Book. re b ^2)3 / I THE AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY? CONTAINING BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCHES OF THE OFFICERS OF THE REVOJ^ftpiON, AND OF THE PRINCIPAL STATESMEN OF THAT PERIOD, TO WHICH ARE ADDED THE LIFE AND CHARACTER OF BENEDICT ARNOLD, AND THE NARRATIVE OF MAJOR ANDRE. COMPILED FROM AUTHENTIC SOURCES. V WHEELING; \ PRINTED AND PUBLISHED FOR F. KENYON, 1833. ^ ADVERTISEMENT. Numerous Biographies of the distinguished pien who acted a conspicuous part during the scenes of the Revolution, have been pubhshed at various times, and in different parts of the country. These have been issued various titles, such as. Biographies of the Signers of the Declaration of Independence ; American Mili- tary Biography; American Military and Political Biography, &.c. &c. None, however, have combined all the several departments embraced in the present work, which includes not only the lives of the distinguished military and naval officers, both native and foreign, whafought our battles ; but also the Biographies of many of those emmBRt statesmen, whose wisdom in council, and forti- tude in trying emergencies, contributed in a very great degree, under Divine Providence, to conduct our country through the perils and storms of the Revolution. While, therefore, we hold up the names of Washington, Warren, Lafayette, and their brave companions, to the admiration of posterity, we should never for- get that John Adams, Jefferson, Franklin, and their coadjutors in the cabinet, have equal claims upon our admiration. Contrasted with these brilliant names, stands the character of Arnold, the detestation of whose treachery should be "burnt in on the memory of every American, by the immortal fires of po- etry" and history. In this volume, the circumstances of his me- ditated treason, and the capture, trial, and execution of major Andre, are more fully detailed, than in many of the works which have treated of this subject. The introductory matter, detailing the proceedings of the pa- rent country, in relation to taxing the colonies, will serve as a useful exposition of the principles involved in the great contest, which resulted in the establishment of our political freedom. CONTENTS. INTRODUCTION. Page. Summary view of the causes which led to the American Re- volution, 5 PART I. AMERICAN MILITARY OFFICERS. George Washington, Esq. Commander-in-Chief of the Amer- ican army, 47 Joseph Warren, Major-General in the American army, 76 -Nathaniel Greene, Major-General in the American armv, 87 Horatio Gates, Majoi--General in the American armjIJ HI Richard Montgomery, Major-General in the American^arm} , 122 Israel Putnam, Major-General in the American army, 132 Henry Knox, Major-General in the American army, 147 Arthur St. Clair, Major-General in the American army, 154 Anthony Wayne, Major-General in the American army, 160 Philip Schuyler, Major-General in the American army, 170 Charles Lee, Major-General in the American army, 176 William Moultrie, Major-General in the American army, 184 Thomas Mifflin, Major-General in the American army, 188 John Sullivan, Major-General in the American army, 189 Benjamin Lincoln, Major-General in the American army, 193 Hugh Mercei*, Major-General in the American army, 200 William Heath, Major-General m the American army, 202 William Alexander, Major-General in the American army, 210 James Clinton, Major-General in the American army, 212 Thomas Conway, Major-General in the American army, 217 Ethan Allen, Brigadier-General in the American army, 218 John Cadwalader, Brigadier-General in the American army, 223 George Clinton, Brigadier-General in the American army, 225 William Davidson, Brigadier-General in the American army, 230 Christopher Gadsden, Brigadier-Gen'l in the American army, 232 Daniel Morgan, Brigadier-General in the American army, 236 John Stark, Brigadier-General in the American army, 243 Otho H. Williams, Brigadier-General in the American army, 251 Rufus Putnam, Brigadier-General in the American army, 253 Peleg Wadsworth, General of the Massachusetts militia, 257 Timothy Pickering, Colonel in the American army, 263 William Washington, Colonel in the American army, 271 Henry Lee, Colonel in the American army, - 273 John Laurens, Colonel in the American army, - 274 CONTENTS. Seth Warner, Colonel in the American army, - 278 Isaac Hayne, Colonel in the American army, - 286 John Eager Howard, Colonel in the American army, 288 William Richardson Davie, Colonel-Commandant of the state cavalry of North Carolina, _ _ _ 290 Henry Dearborn, Colonel in the American army, - 294 Joseph Reed, Adjutant-general in the American army, 299 Peter Horry, Colonel in the American army, - 302 John James, Major in the American army, - 303 Evan Edwards, Major in the American army, - 305 Nathan Hale, Captain in the American army, - 306 Francis Marion, Colonel in the American army, - 309 William Jasper, Sergeant in Marion's brigade, - 332 PART n. JFOREIGN OFFICERS IN THE AMERICAN SERVICE. Gilbert Malier Lafayette, Major-General in the American continental army, _ _ _ _ 337 Baron De Steuben, Major-General in the American army, 368 Count Kosciusko, Colonel in the American army, t- 377 Count Pulaski, - _ _ _ 388 Baron De Kalb, - - - - 395 PART III. NAVAL OFFICERS IN THE AMERICAN SERVICE. John Paul Jones, Commodore in the American navy, 401 John Barry, Commodore in the American navy, - 419 Nicholas Biddle, Commodore in the American navy, 423 Edward Preble, Commodore in the American navy, 431 Thomas Truxtun, Commodore in the American navy, 448 PART IV. EMINENT AMERICAN STATESMEN OF THE REVOLUTION. Benjamin Franklin, - - - - 453 John Adams _____ 472 Thomas Jefferson, _ _ _ _ 490 Roger Sherman, - - - - 511 Charles Carroll, of Carrollton, , - - - 521 John Witherspoon, _ ~ _ _ _ 526 John Hancock, _ _ _ _ 537 Samuel Adams, _ _ ^ _ 545 Richard Henry Lee, _ _ _ _ 554 Daniel Boone, the first settler of Kentucky, - 561 Alexander Hamilton, Inspector-Gen'l in the American army, 572 Tne Life and Character of Benedict Arnold, and the circum- stknces of the capture, trialj and execution of Major Andre, 596 INTRODUCTION. SUMMARY VIEW OF THE EVENTS WHICH LED TO THE AMERICAN REVOLUTION. Persitution peopled America. «God,'" says the pious Staugh- ton, "sifted the chaff of the three kingdoms for the grain with which to sow the wilds of America."" The pious pilgrims and the liardy emigrants however, who first planted the American conti- nent, and most of their successors who laid the foundation of our government on the basis of civil and religious liberty, have found a resting place in the grave. But their virtues, such as patience i-n days of suffering; courage and zeal in asserting and maintain- ing their rights; and the wisdom evinced in laying the foundation of our government, will be held in grateful remembrance. It has, indeed, been said, that the settlement of America, and the history of her revolution, are becoming "a trite theme." The i^emark is not founded in truth. Too well does the present gene- ration appreciate the excellence of those men, who guided the destinies of our country in days of bitter trial ; too well does it es- timate the glorious events, which have exalted these United States to their present elevation, ever to be weary of the pages which shall record the virtues of the one, and the interesting character of the other. The minuter portions of our history, and the humbler men who have acted a part therein, must, perhaps, pass into oblivion. But the more important transactions, and the more distinguished char- acters, instead of being lost to the remembrance, and affections of posterity, will be the more regarded and admired the farther "we roll down the tide of time." Indeed "an event of real mag- 2 6 IXTRODUCTION. nitude in human history," as a recent literary journal has well observed, "is never seen, in all its grandeur and importance, till some time after its occurrence has elapsed. In proportion as the memory of small men, and small things, is lost, that of the truly great becomes more bright. The contemporary aspect of things, is often confused and indistinct. The eye, vthich is placed too near the canvass, beholds, too distinctly, the separate touches of the pencil, and is perplexed with a cloud of seemingly discoi-dant tints. It is only at a distance, that they melt into a harmonious, living picture." Nor does it detract from the honor of the eminent personages, who were conspicuous in the transactions of our earlier history, that they foresaw not all the glorious consequences of their actions. Not one of our pilgrim fathers, it may be safely conjectured, had a distinct anticipation of the future progress of our country. Nei- ther Smith, Newport, nor Gosnold, who led the eiTiigrants of the south ; nor Carver, Brewster, Bradford, or Standish, who conduct- ed those of the north ; looked forward to results like those which are witnessed by the present generation. But is the glory of their enterprise thereby dim.inished? By no means; it shines with an intenser light. They f )resaw nothing with certainty, but hard- ships and sacrifices. These they deliberately and manfully en- countered. They went forward unassured, that even co.'nmon prosperity would attend their enterprise. They breasted them.- selves to every shock; as did the vessel which bore them, to the waves of the ocean. In a work, w^hose professed object is, to speak of men who lived and flourished in the days of our revolutionary struggle, we have little to do with the motives which induced the first settlers of our country to seek an asylum in what was then an unexplored wilderness. Nor is this the place to record the thousand sufferings which they endured, before the era of their landing; or their numberless sorrows and deprivations, whilst establishing them- selves in the rude land of their adoption. The heroic and chris- tian virtues of our fathers will occupy a conspicuous page in his- tory, while the world shall stand. The year 1607 is the era of the first settlement of the English INTRODUCTION. 7 in America. During the interval between this date, and the year 1732, thirteen colonies were established; Virginia being the first, and Georgia the last. The others were Massachusetts, Connec- ticut, New-Hampshire, Rhode-Island, New-York, New-Jersey, Pennsylvania, Delaware, Maryland, and the two Carolinas. In the settlement of these colonies, three forms of government were established. These w'ere severally denominated, charter, proprietary, and royal governments. This difference arose from the different circumstances Avhich attended the settlement of dif- ferent colonies, and the diversified views of the early emigrants. The charter governments were confined to New-England. The proprietary governments were those of Maryland, Pennsylvania, the Carolinas,- and the Jerseys. The two former remained such, until the ^^erican revolution ; the two latter became royal gov- ernments long before that period. In the charter governments, the people enjoyed the privileges and powersof self government; in the proprietary governments these privileges and powers were vested in the proprietor, but he was required to have the advice, assent, and approbation, of the greater part of the freemen, or their deputies ; in the royal governments, the governor and coun- cil were appointed by the crown, and the people elected represen- tatives to serve in the colonial legislatures. — [Pitkin.] The colonies, with the exception of Georgia, had all been estab- lished, and had attained to considerable strength, without even the slightest aid from the parent country. Whatever was expend- ed in the acquisition of territory from the Indians, proceeded from private resources of the European adventurers. Neither the crown, nor the parliament of England, made any compensation to the original masters of the soil ; nor did they in any way contrib- ute to those improvements which so soon bore testimony to the industry and intelligence of the planters. The settlement of the province of Massachusetts Bay alone cost £200,000; — an enor- mous sum at that period. Lord Baltimore expended £40,000, for his contingent, ia the establishment of his colony in Maryland. On that of Virginia, immense wealth was lavished; and we are told by Trumbull, that the first planters of Connecticut consumed great estates in purchasing lands from the Indians, and making W INTRODUCTION. their settlements in that province, in addition to large sums previ- ously expended in the procuring of their patents, and of the rights of pre-emption. — [ WaZ^/j.] It is conceded by historians of every party, that from the earli- est settlements in America, to the period of the revolution, the parent country, so far as her own unsettled state would permit, pursued towards those settlements a course of direct oppression. Without the enterprise to establish colonies herself, she was ready, in the very dawn of their existence, to claim them as her legitimate possessions, and to prescribe, in almost every minute particular, the policy they should pursue. Her jealousies, coeval with the foundation of the colonies, increased with every succeeding year; and led to a course of arbitrary exactions, and lordly oppressions, which resulted in the rupture of those ties that bound the colonies to the parent country. No sooner did the colonies, emerging from the feebleness and poverty of their incipient state, begin to direct their attention to commerce and manufactures, than they were subjected by the parent country to many vexatious regulations, which seemed to indicate, that with regard to those subjects they were expected to follow that line of policy, which she in her wisdom should mark out for them. At every indication of colonial prosperity, the com- plaints of the commercial and manufacturing interests in Great Britain were loud and clamorous, and repeated demands were made upon the British government, to correct the growing evil, and to keep the colonies in due subjection. "The colonists," said the complainants, "are beginning to carry on trade ; — they will soon be our formidable rivals : they are al- ready setting up manufactures ; — they will soon set up for inde- pendence." It was not easy for the colonists to see by what principle their removal to America should deprive them of the rights of English- men. It was difficult for them to comprehend the justice of restric- tions so materially different from those at "home ;" or why they might not equally with their elder brethren in England, seek the best markets for their products, and, like them, manufacture such articles as were within their power, and essential to their comfort. ► INTRODUCTION. 9 But the selfish politicians of England, and her still more selfish merchants and manufacturers, thought not so. A different doc- trine was accordingly advanced, and a different policy pursued. Ac mediately resolved that a levy of thirteen thousand men should I c made. At the same time, the treasurer was directed to bor- row £ 100,000, for the use of the province,- and they declared the citizens were absolved from all obligations of obedience to governor Gage. As the news of the battle of Lexington spread round the country, a universal ardor inflamed the minds of the inhabitants; and shortly after were assembled, in the neighbor- hood of Boston, thirty thousand men, readvj'shculd occasion re- quire, to do justice to themselves and their country. In this critical state of public affairs, congress again assembled at Philadelphia, on the 10th of May. An official account of the late aggressions of his majesty's troops in Massachusetts, was soon after laid before them; upon which it was unanimously resolved to place the colonies in a state of defence.' To the colony of New- York, which had solicited the advice and direction of congress, la anticipation of the speedy arrival of foreign troops, they recom- mended a course of action entirely on the defensive. They were, however, advised to move all military stores, and to pro;vkle a place of retreat for their women and children; to hold themsehes in readiness for the protection of the city; and, in the event of hostilities, to meet the enemy with promptness and decision. To some of the members of congress, it appeared desirable to make yet another attempt at reconciliation with the British gov- ernment. Justice, indeed, required no such advance ; and by many the measure was considered only as a work of supererrogation. They were willing, however, while raising the sword with one hand, to extend the olive branch with the other; and, though driv- en to the necessity of forcibly vindicating their rights, they were 38 INTRODUCTION. stiUdisposed to secure them, if possible, by a firm remonstrance. Yielding, therefore, to the pacific wishes of several members, they prepared an address to the king, by way of a solemn appeal, and a second address to the people of Great Britain. Towards the king, they yet used the language of loyalty and affection; and assured him, notwithstanding the injuries they had sustained, and the grievous oppressions under which they were suffering, they still wished for peace ; and if redressed in respect to their wrongs, and secured in the just rights of subjects, they would manifest towards him all the affection and devotion which a sovreign could require. In their address to the inhabitants of Great Britain, after recap- itulating former injuries, and stating more recent acts of hostility, they ask: "Can the descendants of Britain tamely submit tothis? No, we never will; while we revere the memory of our gallant and virtuous ancestors, we never can surrender those glorious privileges for which they fought^ bled, and' conquered.- "Admit that your fleets and armies can destroy our towns,. and ravage our coasts ; these are inconsiderable objects, things of no moment to men whose bosoms glow with the ardor of liberty. We can retire beyond the reach of your navy- and without any sensible diminution of the necessaries of life, enjoy a luxury which, from that period,' you will want — the luxury of being free." They again repel the charge of aiming at independence: "Our enemies," say they, "charge us with sedition. In what does it consist? In our refusal to submit to unwarrantable acts of injustice and cruelty? If so, show us a period in your history in which you have not been equally seditious. "We are accused of aiming at independence ; but haw is this accusation supported? By the allegations of your ministers, not by our actions. Abused, insulted, and contemned, what steps have we pursued to obtaiji redress? We have carried our duti- ful petitions to the throne. We have applied to your justice for relief. We have retrenched our luxury, and withheld our trade. "The advantages of our commerce were designed as a com- pensation for your protection : when you ceased to protect, for what were we to compensate? INTRODUCTION. 39 "What has been the success of our endeavors ? The clemency of our sovereign is unhappily diverted ; our petitions are treated with indignity; our prayers answered by insults. Our application to you remains unnoticed, and leaves us the melancholy appre- hension of your wanting either the will, or the power, to assist us." After reminding them, that the loss of liberty in America would only be a prelude to its loss in Great Britain, they con- clude : "A cloud hangs over your head and ours : ere this reaches you, it may probably burst upon us. Let us then, (before the re- membrance of former kindness is obliterated,) once more repeat those appellations which are ever grateful to our ears ; let us enti-eat heaven to avert our ruin, and the destruction that threat- ens our friends, brethren, and countrymen, on the other side of the Atlantic." Having thus done all which the most scrupulous conscience could demand, congress proceeded to adopt measures to place the country in a proper attitude of defence, by organizing an army, and appointing the necessary military officers. On the 15th of June, George Washington, by the united voice of congress, was appointed commander-in-chief of the army then raised, or to be raised, for the defence of American liberty. Washington was, at that time, a member of congress, and in a measure prepared to decide on the important question of accept- ance. On the day following, he appeared in the house, and, standing in his place, said, that he thanked congress for the honor they had conferred upon him; but that he felt great distress, from a consciousness that his abilities and military experience were not equal to the extensive and important trust: "however, as the congress desire it, I will enter upon the momentous duty, and exert every power I possess in their service, and for the sup- port of the glorious cause. I beg they will accept my most cordial thanks for this distuiguished testimony of their approbation. "But lest some unlucky event should happen, unfavorable to my reputation, I beg it may be remembered by every gentleman in the room, that I this day declare, with the utmost sincerity, I do not think myself equal to the command I am honored with. "As to pay, sir, I beg leave to assure the congress, that as no «*t 40 INTRODUCTION. pecuniary consideration could have tempted me to accept this arduous employment, at the expense of my domestic ease and happiness, I do not wish to make any profit from it. I will keep an exact account of my expenses. These, I doubt not, they wiil discharge, and that is all I desire." During the winter of 1776, the subject of a Declaration of Independence, occupied the attention of many men in all parts of the country. The ablest pens were also employed on this momentous subject. The propriety and necessity of the measure was enforced in the numerous gazettes, and in pamphlets. Among the latter, "Common Sense," from the popular pen of Thomas Paine, produced a wonderful effect in the different colonies in favor of independence. Influential individuals urged it as a step absolutely necessary to preserve the rights and liberties of Amer- ica, and effectually secure her happiness and prosperity. In the ensuing spring, several of the colonies, by means of their assemblies, expressed their sentiments in favor of independence and instructed their delegates in the general congress to propose to that respectable body, to declare the united colonies free and independent states. On the 7th of June, Richard Henry Lee, one of the delegates from Virginia, brought the great question of independence before the house, by submitting the following resolution : "That these united colonies are, and of right ought to be, free and indepen- dent states; that they are absolved from all allegiance to the Bril- ish crown, and that all political connexion between them and the state of Great Britain is, and ought to be, totally dissolved." This resolution was postponed until the next da}', when it was debated in committee of the whole. On the 10th, it was adopted by a bare majority of the colonies. To give time for greater una- nimity, the resolution was postponed in the house until the first of July. In the mean time, a committee, consisting of Mr. Jefferson, John Adams, Dr. Franklin, Mr. Sherman, and R. R. Livingston, was appointed to prepare a declaration of independence. The committee thus appointed, selected Mr. Adams and Mr. Jefferson as a sub-committee. The draft made by Mr, Jefferson, was the one reported to congress. It was oiscussed on the second and INTRODUCTION. 41 third and fourth days of the month, in committee of the whole ; and on the last of those days, being reported from that committee, it received the final approbation and sanction of congress. It was ordered, at the same time, that copies be sent to the several states, and that it be proclaimed at the head of the army. The declara- tion thus published, did not bear the names of the members, for as yet it had not been signed by them. It was authenticated, like other papers of the congress, by the signatures of the president and secretary. On the. 19th of July, as appears by the secret journal, cougress '•'■Resolved, That the declaration, passed on the fourth, be fairly engrossed on parchment, with the title and style of 'The unanimous declaration of the thirteen United States of America,' and that the same, when ehgrossed, be signed by every member of congress." And on the second day of August follow- ing, the declaration, being engrossed and compared at the table, was signed by the members. The declaration thus adopted, and which gave birth to a new empire, was as follows : "When, in the course of human events, it becomes necessary for one people to dissolve the political bands which have connect- ed them with another, and to assume, among the powers of the earth, the separate and equal station to which the laws of nature and of nature's God entitle them, a decent respect for the opinions rf mankind, requires that they should declare the causes which impel them ta the separation. "We hold these truths to be self-evident : — That all men are Created equal ; that they are endowed by their Creator with cer- tain unalienable rights ; that among these are life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. That to secure these rights, governments are instituted among men, deriving their just powers from the consent of the governed: that whenever any form of government becomes destructive of these ends, it is the right of the people to alter or to abolish it, and to institute a new government, laying its foundation on such principles, and organizing its powers in such form, as to them shal) seem most likely to effect their safety and happiness. Prudence, indeed, will dictate, that governments long established should not be changed for light and transient causes ; 5 42 l^THODUCTION. and accordingly all experience hath shown, that mankind are more disposed to suffer while evils are sufferable, than to right themselves by abolishing the forms to which they are accustomed. But when a long train of abuses and usurpations, pursuing inva- riably the same object, evinces a design to reduce them under absolute despotism, it is their right, it is their duty, to throw off such government, and to provide new guards for their future se- curity. Such has been the patient sufferance of these colonies ; and such is now the necessity which constrains them to alter their former systems of government. The history of the present king of Great Britain, is a history of repeated injuries and usurpations, all having in direct object the establishment of an absolute ty- ranny over these states. To prove this, let facts be submitted to a candid world. "He has refused his assent to laws the most wholesome and necessary for the public good. "He has forbidden his governors to pass laws of immediate and pressing importance, unless suspended in their operation till his assent should be obtained ; and when so suspended, he has utterly neglected to attend to them. He has refused to pass other law? for the accommodation of large districts of people, unless those people would relinquish the right of representation in the legislature — a right inestimable to them, and formidable to ty- rants only. "He has called together legislative bodies at places unusual. \mcomfortable, and distant from the repository of their public records, for the sole purpose of fatiguing them into a compliance with his measures. "He has dissolved representative houses repeatedly, for oppos- ing, with manly firmness, his invasions on the rights of the people. "He has refused, for a long time after such dissolutions, to cause others to be elected ; whereby the legislative powers, inca- pable of annihilation, have returned to the people at large, for their exercise, the state remaining, in the mean time, exposed to all the dangers of invasion from without, and convulsions within. "He has endeavored to prevent the population of these states ; for that purpose obstructing the laws for naturalization of foreign; INTRODUCTION. 43 ers ; refusing to pass others to encourage their migration hither, and raising the conditions of new appropriations of lands. "He has obstructed the administration of justice, by refusing his assent to laws for establishing judiciary powers. "He has made judges dependent on his will alone, for the ten- ure of their offices, and the amount and pefyment of their salaries. "He has erected a multitude of new offices; and sent hither swarms of officers, to harrass our people and eat out their substance. "He has kept among us, in times of peace, standing armies, without the consent of our legislatures. "He has affected to render the military independent of, and superior to, the civil power. "He has combined with others to subject us to a jurisdiction foreign to our constitution, and unacknowledged by our laws ; giving his assent to their acts of pretended legislation : "For quartering large bodies of armed troops among us: "For protecting them, by a mock trial, from punishment for any murders which they should commit on the inhabitants of these states ; "For cutting off our trade with all parts of the world : "For imposing taxes on us without our consent : "For depriving us, in many cases, of the benefits of trial by jury. "For transporting us beyond seas to be tried for pretended offences : "For abolishing the free system of English laws in a neigh- boring province, establishing therein an arbitrary government, and enlarging its boundaries, so as to render it at once an exam- ple and fit instrument for introducing the same absolute rule into these colonies: "For taking away our charters, abolishing our most valuable laws, and altering, fundamentally, the forms of our governments : "For suspending our own legislatures, and declaring them- selves invested with power to legislate for us in all cases what- soever. "He has abdicated government here, by declaring us out of his protection, and waging war against us. 44 INTRODUCTION. "He has plundered our seas, ravaged our coasts, burnt our towns, and destroyed the lives of our people. "He is at this time transporting large armies of foreign merce- naries to complete the works of death, desolation, and tyranny, already begun, with circumstances of cruelty and perfidy, scarce- ly parallelled in the most barbarous ages, and totally unworthy the head of a civilized nation. "He has constrained our fellow-cititizens, taken captive on the high seas, to bear arms against their country, to become the ex- ecutioners of their friends and brethren, or to fall themselves by their hands. "He has excited domestic insurrections amongst us, and has endeavored to bring on the inhabitants of our frontiers, the mer- ciless Indian savages, Vi'hose known rule of warfare is an undis- tinguished destruction of all ages, sexes, and conditions. "In every stage of these oppressions we have petitioned for re- dress in the most humble terms: our repeated petitions have been answered only by repeated injury. A prince whose char- acter is thus marked by every act which may define a tyrant, is unfit to be the ruler of a free people. "Nor have we been wanting in attentions to our British breth- ren. We have warned them, from time to time, of attempts by their legislature to extend an unwarrantable jwisdiction over us. We have reminded them, of the circumstances of our emigration and settlement here. We have appealed to their native justice and magnanimity, and we have conjured them by the ties of our common kindred to disavow these usurpations, which would inev? ! itably interrupt our connexions and correspondence. They too have been deaf to the voice of justice and consanguinity. We must, therefore, acquiesce in the necessity which denounces our separation, and hold them, as we hold the rest of mankind — ene- mies in war, in peace, friends. "We, therefore, the representatives of the United States of America, in general congress assembled, appealing to the Su- preme Judge of the world for the rectitude of our intentions, do, in the name and by the authority of the good people of these colonies, solemnly publish and declare, that these united colonies are, and INTRODUCTION. 45 of right ought to be, free and independent states; that they are absolved from all allegiance to the British crown, and that all po- litical connexion between them and the state of Great Britain is, and ought to be, dissolved; and that, as free and independent states, they have full power to levy war, conclude peace, contract alliances, establish commerce, and to do all other acts and things, which independent states may of right do. And for the support of this declaration, with a firm reliance on the protection of Di- vine Providence, we mutually pledge to each other our lives, our fortunes, and our sacred honor." JOHN HANCOCK, Prest. Attest — Charles Thompson, Secy. Nev;-Hampshire. Josiah Bartlett, William Whipple, Matthew Thornton. Massachusetts-Bay. Samuel Adams, John Adams, Robert Treat Paine, El bridge Gerry. Rhode-Island, 6fc. Stephen Hopkins, William Ellery. Connecticut. Roger Sherman, Samuel Huntington, William Williams, Oliver Wolcott. New-York. William Floyd, Philip Livingston, Francis Lewis, Lewis Morris. New- Jersey. » Richard Stockton, John Witherspoon, Francis Hopkinson, John Hart, Abraham Clark. Maryland. Samuel Chase, William Paca, Thomas Stone, Charles Carroll. 5* Pennsylvania. Robert Morris, Benjamin Rush, Benjamin Franklin, John Morton, George Ciymer, James Wilson, George Ross. Delawdre. Caesar Rodney, Thomas M'Kean, George Read, Virginia. George Wythe, Richard Henry Lee, Thomas Jefferson, Benjamin Harrison, Thomas Nelson, juu. Francis Lightfoot Lee, Carter Braxton. North Carolina. William Hooper, Joseph Hewes, John Penn. South Carolina. Edward Rutledge, Thomas Heyward, jun. Thomas Lynch, jun. Arthur Middleton. Georgia. Button Gwinnet, Lyman Hall, George Walton. PART I. BIOGRAPHY OF AMERICAN MILITARY OFFICERS, GEORGE WASHINGTON, ESQ. Co>i>iandek-ix-Chief of the American Ae>iv. To give us the delightful assurance, that we are always under the watchful care of our powerful and kind Creator, he has told us in the Bible, that he notices every little sparrow ; and as we are "of more value than many sparrows," he will surely ever care for us. It was his powerful and kind care that protected and guided Columbus, the once poor sailor boy, to obtain the favor of a great king and queen, and then to pass over the waves of a dangerous ocean, in a little vessel, and reach in safety an unknown land. And it was the same kind and powerful care, protected and guided houseless strangers to seek spots in that land, on which they might find homes; and then gave Washington to their children, to lead' them on to take a place amongst the nations of the earth. His history is as a shining light upon the path of virtue, for he "ac- knowledged God in all his ways." , , George Washington was the third son of Augustine Washing- ton, whose grandfather left England, his native country, in 1657, and chose a home at Bridge's creek, in Virginia, where, on the 22d of February, in the year 1732, his great grandson, George, was born. ' One of the first lessons which young Washington received from his faithful parents, was, the importance of always speaking the truth ; and they enjoyed a satisfactory reward for their attention to this duty, for through his childhood the "law of truth was in his mouth,"' so that he was not known, in one instance, to tell a false- hood, either to obtain a desired indulgence, or to escape a deserved punishment or reproof. His character as a lover of truth, was so well known at the school which he attended, that the children were certain of being believed, when they related any thing, if they could say, "George Washington saj's it was so." In all the little disputes of his school companions, he was called on to say which party was right, and his decisions were always satisfactory, for ^^Where truth is found, bright virtve still resides, And equal Justice every action guides.'''' 48 GEORGE WASHINGTON, 1742. When he was ten years old, his worthy father died, and he became the care of an anxious mother, whose fortune was not sufficient to enable her to give him more than a plain English education. He was very fond of studying mathematics, and ap- plied his mind in diligently using all the instruction which he could get in that science. As he grew up to manhood, he was remarkable for the strength and activity of his frame. In run- ning, leaping, and managing a horse, he was unequalled by his companions j and he could with ease climb' the heights of his na- tive mountains, to look down alone from some wild crag, upon his followers, who were panting from the toils of the rugged way. — By these healthful exercises, the vigor of his constitution was in- creased, and he gained that hardiness so important to him in the employments designed for him by his Creator. Mrs. Washington was an affectionate parent; but she did not •encourage in herself that imprudent tenderness, which so oflen causes a mother to foster the passions of her children by foolish indulgences, and which seldom fails to destroy the respect which every child should feel for a parent. George was early made to understand that he must obey his mother, and therefore he respect- ed as well as loved her. She was kind to his young companions, but they thought her stern, because they always felt that they must behave correctly in her presence. She owned a remarkably fine colt, which she valued very much; but which, though old enough for use, had never been mounted: no one would venture to ride it, or atrempt to break its wild and vicious spirit. George proposed to some of his young companions, that they should assist him to secure the colt until he could mount it, as he had deter- mined that he would try to tame it. Soon after sunrise, one morning, they drove the wild animal into an enclosure, and with great difficulty succeeded in placing a bridle on it. George then sprang upon its back, and the vexed colt bounded over the open fields, prancing and plunging to get rid of his burden. The bold rider kept his seat firmly, and the struggle between them became alarming to his companions, who were watching him. The speed of the colt increased, until at length, in making a furious effort to throw his conqueror, he burst a large blood-vessel, and instantly died. George was unhurt, but GEOJRGE WASHINGTON'. 49 was much troubled by the unexpected result of his exploit. His companions soon joined him, and when they saw the beautiful colt, lifeless, the first words they spoke were, "What will your mother say — who can tell her?" They were called to breakfast, and soon after they were seated at the table, Mrs. Washington said, "Well, young gentlemen, have you seen my fine sorrel colt in your rambles?" No answer was given, and the question was repeated ; her son George then replied — "Your sorrel colt is dead, mother." He gave her an exact account of the event : the flush of displeasure which first rose on her cheek, soon passed away J and she said calmly, "While I regret the loss of my faifor- ite, / rejoice in my fion, who always speaks the tnith.'''' In his fifteenth year, he had so strong a desire to be actively employed, that he applied for a place as a midshipman in the English navy, and succeeded in obtaining it. Full of youthful ex- pectations of , enjoyment in a new scene, he prepared ardently to engage in it, when he became convinced that by doing so, he should severely pain an anxious parent; and with a true spirit of obedience to the command, "Honor thy mother," he gave up his fondly cherished plan, and yielded his own inclinations to promote her comfort. This act of filial affection proves, that while his manly superiority to companions of his own age caused admira- tion, his self-denying tenderness as a son deserved esteem. 1751. Being unwilling to remain inactive, he employed him- self industriously and usefully in surveying unsettl^l lands; and Avhen he was nineteen years of age, he was appointed one of the adjutant-generals of Virginia, with the rank of a major. In the year 1753, the plan formed by France for connecting Canada with Louisiana by a line of posts, and thus of enclosing the British colonies, and of establishing her influence over the numerous tribes of Indians on the frontiers, began to be developed. In the prosecution of this design, possession had been taken of a tract of land, then believed to be within the province of Virginia. Mr. Dinwiddle, the lieutenant-governor, being determined to re- monstrate against the supposed encroachment and Violation of the treaties between the two countries, despatched major Washington through tiie wilderness to the Ohio, to deliver a letter to the com- manding officer of the French, and also to explore the countr\\ 1 50 GEORGE .WASHINGTON. This trust of danger and fatigue he executed with great ability. He left Williamsburg, October 31, 1753, the very day on which he received his commission, and, at the frontier settlement of the English, engaged guides to conduct him over the Alleghany mountains. After passing them, he pursued his route to the Monongahela, examining the country with a military eye, and taking the most judicious means for securing the friendship of the Indians. He selected the forks of the Monongahela and Allegha- ny rivers, as a position which ought to be immediately possessed and fortified. At this place the French very soon erected Fort du Quesne, which fell into the hands of the English in 1758, and was called by them Fort Pitt. Pursuing his way up the Allegha- ny to French creek, he found, at a fort upon this stream, the com- manding officer, to whom he delivered the letter from Mr. Din- widdie. On his return he encountered great difficulties and dan- gers. As the snow was deep, and the horses weak from fatigue, he left his attendants at the mouth of French creek, and set out on foot, with his papers and provisions in his pack, accompanied only by his pilot, Mr. Gist. At a place upon the Alleghany, cal- led Murdering town, they fell in with a hostile Indian, who was one of a party then lying in wait, and who fired upon them, not ten steps distant. They took him into custody, and kept him until nine o'clock, and then let him go. To avoid the pursuit which they presumed would be commenced in the morning, they travelled all night. On reaching the Monongahela, they had a hard day's work to make a raft with a hatchet. In attempting to cross the river to reach a trader's house, they were enclosed b} masses of ice. In order to stop the raft, major Washington put down his setting-pole, but the ice came with such force against it, as to jerk him into the water. He saved himself by seizing one of the raft logs. With difficulty they landed on an island, where they passed the night. The cold was so severe that the pilot's hands and feet were frozen. The next day they crossed the river upon the ice. Washington arrived at Williamsburg, January 16, 1754. His journal, \yhich evinced the solidity of his judgment and his fortitude, was published. "As the French seemed disposed to remain upon the Ohio, it was determined to raise a regiment of three hundred men to GEORGE WASHINGTON. 51 maintain the claims of the British Crown. The command was ffiven to Mr. Fry, and major Washington, who was appointed lieutenant-colonel, marched with two companies early in April, 1754, in advance of the other troops. A few miles west of the ( Jreat Meadows, he surprised a French encampment in a dark, rainy night, and only one man escaped. Before the arrival of the two remaining companies, Mr. Fry died, and the command de- volved on colonel Washington. Being joined by two other com- panies of regular troops from South Carolina and New-York, after erecting a small stockade at the Great Meadows, he proceed- ed towards Fort du Quesne, which had been built but a short time, with the intention of dislodging the French. He had marched only thirteen miles to the westernmost foot of the Laurel Hill, before he received information of the approach of the enemy with superior numbers, and was induced to return to his stockade. He began a ditch around it, and called it Fort Necessity ; but the next day, July 3d, he was attacked by fifteen hundred men. His own troops were only about four hundred in number. The ac- tion commenced at ten in the morning, and lasted until dark. A part of the Americans fought within the fort, and a part in the ditch filled with mud and water. Colonel Washington was him- .<5elf on the outside of the fort during the whole day. The enemy fought under cover of the trees and high grass. In the course of the night, articles of capitulation were agreed upon. The garri son was allowed to retain their arms and baggage, and to march unmolested to the inhabited parts of Virginia. The loss of the Americans in killed and wounded was supposed to be about a hundred, and that of the enemy two hundred. In a few months afterwards orders were received for settling the rank of the offi- cers, and those who were commissioned by the king being direct- ed to take rank of the provincial officers," colonel Washington in- dignantly resigned his commission. He now retired to Mount Vernon; that estate, by the death of his brother, having devolved upon him. But in the spring of 1775, he accepted an invitation from General Braddock, to enter his family as a volunteer aid-de- camp, in his expedition to the Ohio. He proceeded with him to Will's creek, afterwards called Fort Cumberland, in April. After the troops had marched a few miles from this place, he was seized 1)2 GEORGE WASHINGTON. with a raging fever; but refusing to remain behind, he was con- i?leyed in a covered wagon. By his advice, twelve hundred men }ere detached, in order, by a rapid movement, to reach Fort du uesne before an expected re-inforcement should be received at *liat place. These disencumbered troops were commanded by fcaddock himself, and colonel Washington, though still extremely /ill, insisted upon proceeding with them. After they arrived upon the Monongahela, he advised the general to employ the ranging / companies of Virginia to scour the woods, and to prevent ambus- , cades, but his advice was not followed. On the 9th of July, when the army was within seven miles of Fort du Quesne, the enemy commenced a sudden and furious attack, being concealed by the wood and high grass. In a short time colonel Washington was the only aid that was unwounded, and on him devolved the whole duty of carrying the oi-ders of the commander-in-chief He was cool and fearless. Though he had two horses killed under him, and four balls through his coat, he escaped unhurt, while every other officer on horseback was either killed or wounded. Doctor Craik, the physician who attended him in his last sickness, was present in this battle, and says, "I expected every moment to see him fall. Nothing but the superintending care of Providence could have saved him from the fate of all around him." After an action of three hours, the troops gave way in all directions, and colonel Washington and two others brought offBraddock, who had been mortally wounded. He attempted to rally the retreating troops ; but as he says himself, it was like endeavoring "to stop the wild bears of the mountains." The conduct of the regular troops was most cowardly. The enemy were few in numbers, and had no expectation of victory, "la a sermon occasioned by this expedition, the Rev. Mr. Davis, of Hanover county, thus prophetically expressed himself: "As a remarkable instance of patriotism, I may point out to the public that heroic youth, colonel Washington, whom I cannot but h ope Providence has hitherto preserved in so singular a man- ner for some important service to his country." For this purpose he was indeed preserved, and at the end of twenty years he be- gan to render his country more important services than the minis- ter of Jesus could have anticipated. From 1755 to 1758 he GEORGE WASHIXqTON, 53 commanded a regiment which was raised for the protection of the frontier s, and during this period he was incessantly occupied in efforts to shield the exposed settlements from the. incursions of the sava^s. His exertions were in a great degree ineffectual, in consequence of the errors and the pride of government, and of the UTipossibility of guarding, with a ("ew troops, an extended ter- ritary from an enemy which was averse to open warfare. He, in thft most earnest manner, recommended offensive measures, as the only method of giving complete protection to the scattered settle- fnents. "In the yffar 1758, to his great joy, it was determined to un- dertake another expedition against Fort du Quesne, and he engag- ed in it with zeal. Early in July, the troops were assembled at Fort Cumberland ; and here, against all the remonstrances and ar- guments of colonel Washington, general Forbes resolved to open a neMroad to the Ohio, instead of taking the old route. Such was the predicted delay, occasioned by this measure, that in Novem- ber it was resolved not to proceed further during that campaign. But intelligence of the weakness of the garrison induced an alter- ation of the plan of passing the winter in the wilderness. By slow marches the army was enabled, the 25th of November, to reach Fort du Quesne, of which peaceable possession was taken, as the enemy, on the preceding night, after setting it on fire, had aban- doned it, and proceeded down the Ohio. The works in this place were repaired, and its name was changed to that of Fort Pitt. The success of the expedition was to be attributed to the British fleet, which intercepted re-inforcements destined for Canada, and to events in th« northern colonies. The great object which he had been anxious to effect, being now accomplished, and his health be- ing enfeebled, colonel Washington resigned his commission as com- mander-in-chief of all the troops raised in Virginia, "Soon after his resignation he was married to the widow of Mr. Custis, a young lady to whom he had been for some time strongly attached, and who, to ajarge fortune and a fine person, added those amiable accomplishments which fill with silent felicity the scenes of domestic life. His attention, for several years, was principally directed to the management of his estate, which had now become considerable. He had nine thousand acres under his own man- 6 54 GEOEGE WASHIXGTOX. agement. So great a part was cultivated, that, in one year, he raised seven thousand bushels of wheat and ten thousand of Indian corn. His slaves and other persons employed by him, amounted to near a thousand ; and the woollen and linen cloth necessary for their use was chiefly manufactured on the estate. He was at this'' period a respectable member of the legislature of Virginic\, ia which he took a decided part in opposition to the principle of tax- ation asserted by the British parliament. He also acted as a judge of a county court. In 1774, he was elected a member of the fir^t congress, and was placed on all those committees whose duty i*: was to make arrangements for defence. In the following year, af- ter the battle of Lexington, when it was determined by congress to resort to arms, colonel Washington was unanimously elected commander-in-chief of the army of the united colonies. All were satisfied as to his qualifications, and the delegates from New-En- gland were particularly pleased with his election, as it would tend to unite the southern colonies cordially in the war. He accepted the appointment with diffidence, and expressed his intention of re- ceiving no compensation for his services, and only a mere discharge of his expenses. He immediately repaired to Cambridge, in the neighborhood of Boston, where he arrived on the 2d of July. He formed the army into three divisions, in order the most effectually to enclose the enemy, intrusting the division at Roxbury, to gene- ral Ward, the division on Prospect and Winter Hills, to general Lee, and commanding himself the centre at Cambridge. Here he had to struggle with great difficulties, with the want of ammu- nition, clothing, and magazines, defect of arras and discipline, and the evils of short enlistments ; but instead of yielding to despon- dence, he bent the whole force of his mind to overcome them. He soon made the alarming discovery, that there was only sufficient powder on hand to furnish the army with nine cartridges for each man. With the greatest caution to keep this fact a secret, the ut- most exertions were employed to procure a supply. A vessel which was despatched to Africa, obtained for New-England rum, all the gunpowder in the British factories ; and in the beginning of wintef, captain Manly captured an ordnance brig, which furnished the American army with the precise articles of which it was m the greatest want. In September, general Washington despatched GEORGE WASHIXGTOX. 55 Arnold on an expedition against Quebec. In February, 1776, ■he proposed to a council of his officers to cross the ice and attack the enemy in Boston ; .but they unanimously disapproved of the daring measure. It was, however, soon resolved.to take posses- sion of the hciglits of Dorchester. This was done without dis- cover}', on the night of the 4th of March, and on the 17th the enemy found it necessary to evacuate the town. The recovery of Boston induced congress to pass a vote of thanks to general Wash- ington and his brave army. •*'In the belief that the efforts of the British would be directed to- wards the Hudson, he hastened the army to New-York, where he himself arrived on the 14th of April. He made every exertion to fortify the city, and attention was paid to the forts in the highlands. While he met the most embarrassing- difficulties, a plan was form- ed to assist the enemy in seizing his pei'son, and some of his own guards engaged in the conspiracy ; but it was discovered, and some who were concerned in it were executed. "In the beginning of July, general Howe landed his troops at Staten Island. His brother, lord Howe, who commanded the fleet, soon arrived ; and as both were commissioners for restoring peace to the colonies, the latter addressed a letter upon the subject to •'George Washington, esq.' but the general refused to receive it, as it did not acknowledge the public character with which he was invested by congress, in which character only he could have any intercourse with his lordship. Another letter was sent to 'George Washingtcn, »Scc. &,c. &c.' This, for the same reason, was re- jected- "After the disastrous battle of Brooklyn, on the 27th of August, in which Stirling and Sullivan were taken prisonersj and of which he was only a spectator, he withdrew the troops from Long Island, and in a ^ew days he resolved to withdraw from New-York. At Kipp's Bay, about three miles from the city, some works had been thrown up to oppose the enemy ; but, on tlieir approach, the Amer- ican troops fled with precipfitation. Washington rode towards the lines, and made every exertion to prevent the disgraceful flight. He drew his sword, and threatened to run the cowards through ; he cocked and snapped his pistols ; but it was all in vain. Such was the state of his mind at this moment, that he turned his horse 56 GEORGE WASHINGTON. towards the advancing enemy, apparently with the intention of rushing upon death. His aids now seized the bridle of his horse and rescued him from destruction. New-York, was, on the same day, September 15th, evacuated. In October he retreated to the White Plains, where, on the 28th, a considerable action took place, in which the Americans were overpowered. After the loss of Forts Washington and Lee, he passed into New-Jersey, in No- vember, and was pursued by a numerous and triumphant enemy. His army did not amount to three thousand, and it was daily dimin- ishing; his men, as the winter commenced, wer« barefooted and almost naked, destitute of tents, and of utensils with which to dress their scanty provisions; and every circumstance tended to fill the the mind with despondence. But general Washington was undis- mayed and firm. He showed himself to his enfeebled army with a serene and unembarrassed countenance, and they were inspired with the resolution of their commander. On the 8th of Decem- . ber he was obliged to cross the Delaware ; but he had the precau- tion to secure the boats for seventy miles upon the river. While the British were waiting for the ice to afford them a passage, as his own army had been re-inforced by several thousand men, he formed the resolution of carrying the cantonments of the enemy by surprise. On the night of the 25th of December, lie crossed the river nine miles above Trenton, in a stonn of snow mingled with hail and rain, with about two thousand and four hundred men. Two other detachments were unable to effect a passage. In the morning, precisely at eight o'clock, he surprised Trenton and took a thousand Hessians prisoners, a thousand stand of arms, and six field pieces. Twenty of the enemy were killed. Of the Americans two privates were killed and two frozen to death; and one officer and three or four privates were wounded. The surprise and capture of the Hessian troops at Trenton is a well remembered event in our revolutionary history. It occurred at the darkest period of the struggle, and it was in the hour when the hopes of the most sanguine had almost failed, that God so sig- nally interposed to save our land. On that eventful morning, colonel Biddle, of Philadelphia, rode by the side of Washington, and it is from his ofl repeated relation GEORGE WASHINGTON. 57 of the circumstances of that contest .that we have derived our knowledge of the following interesting fact: The American troops crossed the Delaware about nine miles above Trenton, and marched in two divisions upon the town. This unexpected approach and vigorous attack of foes supposed to be dispirited and defeated, was completely successful ; and althouo-h the floating ice in tl\e river had delayed the crossing, and it was eight o'clock when Washington entered the village, the victory was gained with an ease altogether unexpected. In a few min- utes all the outguards were driven in, the American forces having surrounded the town, resistance became fruitless, and the enemy surrendered. When this event was communicated to Washington, he was pressing forward and animating his troops by his voice and example. Instantly checking. his horse, and throwing the reins upon his neck, the venerable man raised his hands and eyes to heaven, and thus silently and emphatically acknowledged whence the victory had come, and what aid he had implored to guard his beloved country in the perilous conflicts. It was not until the lapse of about a minute that he paused from his devout thankful- ness, and ordered the troops to stand to their arms. "On the same day he re-crossed the Delaware with the fruits of his enterprise; but in two or three days passed again into New- Jersey, and concentrated his forces, amounting to five thousand, at Trenton. On the approach of a superior enemy under Cornwal- lis, January 2, 1777, he drew up his men behind Assumpinck creek. He expected an attack in the morning, which would pro- bably result in a ruinous defeat. At this moment, when it was hazardous, if not impracticable, to return into Pennsylvania, he formed the resolution of getting into the rear of the enemy, and thus stop them in their progress towards Philadelphia. In the night he silently decamped, taking a circuitous route through Al- lenstown to Princeton. A sudden change of the weather to se- vere cold, rendered the roads favorable for his march. About sun- rise his van met a British detachment on its way to join Cornwal- lis, and was defeated by it; but as he came up, he exposed him- self to every danger, and gained a victory. With three hundred prisoners he then entered Princeton. "During this march many of his soldiers were without shoes, and 6* 58 GEORGE WASHINGTON. their feet left the marks of blood upon the frozen ground. This hardship, and the want of repose, induced him to lead his army to a place of security on the road to Morristown. Cornwallis, in the morning, broke up his camp, and, alarmed for his stores at Brunswick, urged the pursuit. Thus the military genius of the American commander, under .the blessings of Divine Provi- dence, rescued Philadelphia from the threatened danger, obliged the enemy, which had overspread New-Jersey, to return to the neighborhood of New-York, and revived the desponding spirit of his country. Having accomplished these objects, he retired to> Morristown, where he caused his whole army to be inoculated with the small pox, and thus was freed from the apprehension of a ca- lamity which might impede his operations during the next cam- paign. "On the last day of May he removed his army to Middlebrook, about ten miles from Brunswick, where he fortified himself very strongly. An ineffectual attempt was made by Sir William Howe to draw him from his position, by marching towards Phil- adelphia ; but after Howe's return to New- York, he moved to- wards the Hudson, in order to defend the passes, in the expecta- tion that a junction with Burgoyne, who was then upon the lakes, would be attempted. After the British general sailed from New-York and entered the Chesapeake, in August, general Washington marched immediately for the defence of Philadel- phia. On the 11th of September, he was defeated at Brandy- wine, Aviththe loss of nine hundred in killed and wounded. A few days afterwards, as he was pursued, he turned upon the enemy, determined upon another engagement; but a heavy rain so damaged the arms and ammunition, that he was under the absolute necessity of again retreating. Philadelpliia was enter- ed by Cornwallis on the 26th of September. On the 4th of October, the American commander made a well planned attack upon the British camp at Germantown ; but in consequence of the darkness of the morning, and the imperfect discipline of his troops, it terminated in the loss of twelve hundred men, in killed, wounded, and prisoners. In December, he went into winter quarters at Valley Forge, on the west side of the Schuylkill, be- tween twenty and thirty miles from Philadelphia. Here his ar- GEORGE \\'ASniXGTOX, 50 my was in the greatest distress for want of provisions, and he was reduced to the necessity of sending out parties to seize what they could find. "In describing their state in the hut-camp, he said, 'For some days there has been Httle less than a famine in the camp ; but naked and starving as they are, I cannot enough admire the in- comparable fidelity of the soldiers, that they have not before this time been excited to a general mutiny or dispersion.' "The inhabitants of the surrounding country, knowing this sad state of the army, were very uneasy ; one of them left his home one day, with an anxious heart, and as he was parsing thought- fully the edge of a wood near the hut-camp, he heard low sounds of a voice. He stopped to listen, and looking between the trunks of the large trees, he saw general Washington engaged in pray- er. He passed quietly on, that he might not disturb him: and on returning home, told his family he was cheered with a confident hope of the success of the Americans; for their leader did not trust to his own strength, but sought aid from the hearer of prayer, w ho promised in his word, 'Call unto me, and I will answer thee, and show thee great and mighty things which thou knowest not.' "A female, who lived at the Valley Forge when the army was encamped there, told a friend who visited her Soon after they left it, that she had discovered that it was the constant custom of Wash- ington to retire to a short distance from the camp to worship God in prayer. "About the same time a combination, in which some members of congress were engaged, was formed to remove the comman- der-in-chief, and "to appoint to his place Gates, whose successes of late had given him a high reputation. But the name of Wash- ington was too dear to the great body of Americans to admit of such a change. Notwithstanding the discordant materials of which his army was composed, there was something in his char- acter which enabled him to attach both his oflicers and soldiers so strongly to him, that no distress could weaken their affection, nor impair the veneration in which he was generally held. Without this attachment to him, the army must have been dissolved. — General Conway, who was concerned in this faction, being wounded in a duel with general Cadwallader, and thinking his 60 GEORGE WASHINGTON. wound mortal, wrote to general Washington, 'You are, in my eyes,i the great and good man.' On the 1st of February, 1778, there were about four thousand men in camp, unfit for duty, for want. of clothes. Of these, scarcely a man had a pair of shoes. The hospitals also were filled with the sick. At this time the enemy, if they had marched out of their winter quarters, would easily have dispersed the American army. The apprehension of the approach of a French fleet inducing the British to concentrate their forces, when they evacuated Philadelphia, on the 17th of June, and marched towards New- York, general Washington fol- lowed them. Contrary to the advice of a council, he engaged in the battle of Monmouth on the 28th; the result of which made an impression favorable to the cause of America. He slept in his cloak on the field of battle, intending to renew the attack the next morning; but at midnight the British marched off in such silence, as not to be discovered. Their loss in killed Was about three hundred, and that of the Americans sixty-nine. As the campaign now closed in the middle states, the American army went into winter quarters in the neighborhood of the highlands, upon the Hudson. Thus, after the vicissitudes of two years, both armies were brought back to the point from which they set out. Dur- ing the year 1779, general Washington remained in the neighbor- hood of New-York. In January, 1780, in a winter memorable for its severity, his utmost exertions were necessary to save the army from dissolution. The soldiers, in general, submitted with heroic patience to the want of provisions and clothes. At one time they ate every kind of horse food but hay. Their suffer- ings, at length, were so great, that in March, two of the Connec- ticut regiments mutinied: but the mutiny was suppressed, and the ringleaders secured. In September, the treachery of Ar- nold was detected. In the winter of 1781, such were again the privations of the army, that a part of the Pennsylvania line re- volted, and marched home. Such, however, was still their pa- triotism, that they delivered up some British emissaries to general Wayne, who hanged them as spies. Committing the defence of the posts on the Hudson to general Heath, general Washington, in August, marched, with count Rochambeau, for the Chesapeake, to co-operate with the French fleet there. The siege of Yorktown GEORGE WASHINGTON. (51 commenced on the 28(h of September, and on the 19th of Octo- ber he reduced Cornwallis to the necessity of surrendering, with upwards of seven thousand men, to the combined armies of A«ier- ica and France. The day after the capitulation he ordered tjhat those who were under arrest should be pardoned, and that divine service in acknowledgement of the interposition of Providence- should be performed in all the brigades and divisions. This event filled America with joy, and was the means of terminating the war. "Few events of importance took place in 1782. In March, 1783, he exhibited his characteristic tirmness and decision, in op- posing an attempt to produce a mutin}^ by anonymous letters.t— His address to his officers on the occasion, displays in a remarka- ble degree, his prudence, and the correctness of his judgment. When he began to read it, he found himself in some degree em- barrassed by the imperfection of his sight. Taking out his spec- tacles, he said, 'These eyes, my friends, have grown dim, and these locks white, in the service of my countr}^, yet I have never doubted her justice.' He only could have repressed the spirit which was breaking forth. On the 19th of April, a cessation of hostilities Was proclaimed in the American camp. In June he addressed a letter to the governors of the several states, congratu- lating them on the result of the contest in the establishment of independence, and recommending an indissoluble union of the states under one federal head, a sacred regard to public justice, the adoption of a proper peace establishment, and the prevalence ■ of a friendly disposition among the people of the several states. It was with keen distress, as well as with pride and admiration, that he saw his brave and veteran soldiers, who had suftcred so much, and who had borne the heat and burden of the war, returti- ing peaceably to their homes, without a settlement of their ac- counts, or a farthing of money in their pockets. On the 25th of November, New-York was evacuated, and he entered it, accom- panied by governor Clinton, and manj^ respectable citizens. On the 4th of December he took his farewell of his brave comrades in arms. At noon the principal officers of the army assembled at Francis' tavern, and their beloved commander soon entered the room. His emotions were too strong to be concealed. Filling a 62 GEORGE WASHINGTON. glass with wine, he turned to them and said, 'With a heart full of love and gratitude, I noAv take leave of you ,• I most devoutly wish that your latter days may be as prosperous and happy as your for- mer ones have been glorious and honorable.' Having drunk, he added, 'I cannot come to each of you to take my leave, but shall be obliged to you if each of you will come and take me by the hand.* Geaeral Knox, being nearest, turned to him. Incapable of utter- ance, general Washington grasped his hand, and embraced him. In the same affectionate manner he took his leave of each succeed- ing officer. In every eye was (he tear of dignified sensibility, and not a word was articulated, to interrupt the silence and the tender- ness of the scene. Ye men, who delight in blood, slaves of ambi- tion! when your work of carnage was finished, could ye thus part ■\rith your companions in crime? Leaving the room, general Washington passed through the corps of light infantry, and walked io Whitehall, where a barge waited to carry him toPowles' Hook. The whole company followed in mute procession, with dejected countenances. When he entered the barge, he turned to them, and waving his hat, bade them a silent adieu ; receiving from them the same last, affectionate compliment. On the 23d of December he resigned his commission to congress, then assembled at Annap- -olis. He delivered a short address on the occasion^ in which he said, 'I consider it an indispensable duty to close this last solemu act of .my official life by commending the interests of our dearest country to the protection of Almighty God, and those who have the superintendence of them to his holy keeping.' He then retired to Mount Vernon, to enjoy again the pleasures of domestic life.— ~ Here the expressions of the gratitude of his countrymen, in affec- tionate addresses, poured in upon him, and he received every tes- tmiony of respect and veneration. "In his retirement, however, he could not overlook the ptiblic interests. He was desirous of opening, by water carriage, a com- munication betv/een the Atlantic and the western portions of cur country, in order to prevent the diversion of trade down the Mis- sissippi and to Canada; fi-om which he predicted consequences injurious to the Union. Through his influence, two companies were formed for promoting inland navigation. The legislature of Virginia presented him with one hundred and fifty shares in them, GEORGE WASHI>-GTOX. ' 63 which he appropriated to public uses. In the year 1786, he wa!5 convinced, with other statesmen, of the necessity of substituting a more vigorous general government in the place of the impotent articles of confederation. Still he was aware of the danger of running from one extreme to another. He exclaims, in a letter to Mr. Jay, "What astonishing changes a few years are capable of producing! I am told that even respectable characters speak of a monarchical form of government without horror. From thinking proceeds speaking : thence to acting is often but a single step. But how irrevocable and tremendous ! What a triumph for our enemies to verify their predictions! What a triumph for the advocates of despotism, to find that we are incapable of governing ourselves, and that systems founded on the basis of equal liberty, are merely ideal and fallacious!'" In the following year he was persuaded to take a seat in the convention which formed the present constitu- tion of the United States ; and he presided in that body. In 17S9, he was unanimously elected the first president of the United States. It was with great reluctance that he accepted this ofhce. His feelings, as he said himself, were like those of a culprit going to the place of execution. He wished his journey to be private; but that wish was not to be gratified. Preparations were made in every town and village through which he was to pass, to give him proofs of the gratitude of his countrymen for his past services, and of their exulting confidence that his future ones would be blessin^-s to them. "Philadelphia was illuminated, and the next day he was wel- comed to Trenton with joy. On the bridge over the Assumpinck creek, an arch had been erected and ornamented with laurels and flowers, and it was supported by thirteen pillars, entwined with wreaths of evergreen. On the front of the arch was inscribed, in large letters, the date of the first battle of Trenton, and of the day on which the American troops had made a bold stand on the bor- ders of the Assumpinck, by which the progress of the English army had been stopped. Under this was written, "The defender of the mothers will be the protector of the daughters." "Washington left his carriage to walk over the bridge, and a company of young girls went before him, and strewed fresh flowers for his steps to press, These innocent and heart touching proofs 64 GEORGE WASHINGTON. of grateful respect, caused tears to roll down his toil marked cheeks ; and no doubt those of devout thankfulness were mingled with them, by the recollection of the peculiar manner in which he had experienced the aid of Divine Providence on ihe spot over which he was passing. "At Elizabethtown a committee from congress received him, and conducted him to the Point, where he entered a handsome boat, that had been prepared to convey him to New- York. "After receiving such proofs of affectionate attachment, he ar- rived at New-York, and was inaugurated first ' president of the United States on the 13th of April. In making the necessary arrangements of his household, he publicly announced, that nei- ther visits of business nor of ceremony would he expected on Sun- day, as he wished to reserve that day sacredly to himself. "At the close of his first term of four years, he prepared a val- edictory address to the American people, anxious to return again to the scenes of domestic life ; but the earnest entreaties of his friends, and the peculiar situation of his country, induced him to be a candidate for a second election. During his administration of eight years, the labor of establishing the different departments of a new government was accomplished ; and he exhibited the great- est firmness, wisdom and independence. He was an American, and he chose not to involve his country in the contests of Europe. He accordingly, with the unanimous advice of his cabinet, consist- ing of Messrs. Jefferson, Hamilton, Knox, and Randolph, issuecTa proclamation of neutrality, April 22, 1793, a few days after he heard of the commencement of the war between England and France. This measure contributed, in a great degree, to the prosperity of America. Its adoption was the more honorable to the president, as the general sympathy was in favor of the sister republic, — against whom it was said Great Britain had com- menced the war for the sole purpose of imposing upon her a mon- archical form of government. He preferred the peace and wel- fare of his country to the breath of popular applause. Another . act, in which he proved himself to be less regardful of the public partialities and prejudices than of what he conceived to be for the public good, was the ratification of the British treaty. The En- glish government had neglected to surrender the western posts, GEORGE WASHINGTON. 65 and by commercial restrictions, and in other ways, had evinced a hostile spirit towards this country. To avert (he calamity of ano- ther war, Mr. Jay was nominated as envoy extraordinary, in April, 1794. In June, 1795, the treaty which Mr. Jay had made, was submitted to the senate, and was ratified by that body, on the con- dition that one article should be altered. While the president was deliberating upon it, an incorrect copy of the instrument was made public by a senator, and the whole country was thrown into a state of extreme irritation. At this period he, in August, conditionally ratified it: and in February, 1796, when it was returned from his Britannic majesty with the proposed alteration, he declared it to be the law of the land. After this transaction, the house of repre- sentatives requested him to lay before them the papers relating to the treaty ; but he, with great independence, refused to comply with their request, as they could have no claim to an inspection of them except upon a vote of impeachment, and as a compliance would establish a dangerous precedent. He had, before this, shown a disposition to maintain the authority vested in his office, by declining to affix his signature to a bill which had passed both houses." When the time came for a third election of president, the peo- ple felt that eight years of peace and prosperity, under the wise rule of Washington, had increased the attachment and gratitude which he had merited by eight years of faithful service in the de- fence of their liberty ; and again they were ready to unite in voting for him. Bat he firmly refused to be re-elected. He assured his countrymen, that he did not do so from any want of respect for their past kindness, or from feeling less anxious for their future prosperity ; — that he had twice yielded to their wishes, because he thought that it was his duty to do so, but felt that then the happy state of their concerns would permit his retiring to enjoy the quiet of his own home. As his determination was fii'm, they did not per- sist in opposing it, and he prepared to take again the character of a private citizen. Dec. 7. In concluding his last speech to congress, he said, "I cannot omit the occasion to repeat my fervent supplications to the Supreme Ruler of the Universe and Sovereign Arbiter of nations, that his providential care may still be extended to the United 7 66 GEORGE WASHINGTON. States- that the virtue and happiness of the people may be pre- served, and that the government, which they have instituted for the protection of their liberties, may be perpetual." Congress addressed to him an answer, in the name of the peo- jile, in which they expressed their sincere regret for his determi- nation "to retire from the public employments of his country ;" and concluded it with the wish, — "May you long enjoy that liberty which is so dear to you, and to which your name will ever be dear. May your own virtue, and a nation's prayers, obtain the happiest sunshine for the decline of your days, and the choicest of future blessings. For our country's sake, — for the sake of republican liberty, it is our earnest wish, that your example may be the guide of your successors ; and thus, after being the ornament and safe- guard of the present age, become the patrimony of our descend- ants." In every country, amongst the high and the low, the rich and the poor, there are persons who delight in the employment of "bearing false witness" against the upright. They may have ex- cuses for doing so, which satisfy themselves; but if they would examine those excuses fairly, they would know that they are not such as they will venture to offer to the great Searcher of hearts, when they appear before him, to give an account of their evil thoughts and false words. The character of Washington was at- tacked by slanderous tongues; but ^^Malice never could blast his honor." "Greatness and guilt have too often been allied; but his fame was whiter than it was brilliant." Ilis last address to his countrymen was like that of an affec- tionate father to a beloved family, and contained the most instruc- tive, important, and interesting advice that was ever given by man to any nation. He counselled his countrymen to cherish union as the main prop of their liberty, and said, that "Party spirit was baneful in its effects ; created jealousies and false fears ; kin- dled enmities, and often caused riots;" and that the mischiefs it occasioned, were "sufficient to make it the duty and interest of a wise people to discourage and restrain it." He said, "Observe good faith and justice towards all nations; cultivate peace and harmony with all; religion and morality enjoin this conduct." He recommended active attention to every means for increas- * GEORGE WASHINGTON. 67 ing useful instruction in every part of the country; and said that religion and morality were the only sure supports of national pros- perity; and that in vain would that man "claim the tribute of pat- riotism, who should labor to subvert those great pillars of human happiness, these firmest props of the duties of men and citizens. The mere politician equally with the pious man, ou^ht to respect and cherish them. A volume could not ti'ace all their connexions with public and private felicity." He said there could be no safety for property or reputation, if there was no sense of the religious obligation of the oaths taken in a court of justice. That morality and religion must not be separated, for there could be no certainty of upright conduct where there Avas no religious principle. In closing this important and affectionate farewell address, he said, "Though in reviewing the incidents of my administration, I am unconscious of intentional error; lam, nevertheless, too sensible of my defects, not to think it probable that I may have committed many errors. Whatever they may be, I fervently beseech the Almighty to avert or mitigate the evils to which they may tend. I shall also carry with me the hope, that my country will never cease to view them with indulgence ; and that after forty-five years of my life, dedicated to its service, with an upright zeal, the faults of incom- petent abilities mil be consigned to oblivion, as myself must soon be to the mansion of rest." Not many of his countrymen had hearts so cold as to be indif- ferent to this tender and instructive farewell, and it was received with grateful feelings. It was long, and has been often published ; and all young Americans should read it with attention, and make a firm determination, that they will endeavor to follow the important and affectionate counsel which the wise and virtuous Washington has left them as a legacy. He toiled through years of anxious c'kres to promote the happiness of his countrymen, and knowing that "sin is a disgrace to any people," but that "righteousness ex- alteth a nation," he earnestly entreated them to consider religion as the only lasting support of national prosperity. The rest for which Washington had longed, was not idleness; and when he had examined every part of his large farm, which had been in some degree neglected during his absence, he imme- diately commenced the employment of improving it. 68 GEORGE WASHINGTON. His faithful mother, in forming his first habits, had not neglect- ed that of early rising; and through the whole of his useful life, that habit was continued ; in winter, he rose usually two hours be- fore day ; and in summer, was ready to enjoy the healthful fresh- ness and beauty of the dawn. Thus did the man, who stands high- est in the admiration of the world, and whose deeds were exalted and laborious, set an example to his countrymen, which if they imitate, they will gain for themselves many a precious hour ; which, if well employed, may tend to secure the Divine promise, "The Lord shall command the blessing upon thee in thy store-houses, and in all that thou settest thy hand unto; and he shall bless thee in the land which the Lord thy God giveth thee." Tlie habit of early rising, in connexion with the exemplary one of strict attention to order in all his employments, gave Washing- ton "time for all things," so that though he had such numerous and arduous public duties to attend to, he did not neglect any private one, but performed with ease himself, what would seem to be em- ployment for many. He was remarkably neat in his person ; but used a very short portion of time for attention to his dress. After his return to his farm, he visited his stables every day, to be certain that his horses were well taken care of The one on which he rode, when he was dirfecting the seige of Yorktown, he did not use again; it was allowed to graze on the best pasture in summer, and was carefully stabled in winter, and died of old age, several years after the close of the war. Washington was employed for several hours, each day, in visit- ing all parts of his large farm. He went alone, opening and shut- ting the gates, and pulling down and putting up the bars as he passed. One day colonel Meade, a valued friend of Washington, was met by Mr. Custis, a relation of Mrs. Washington; colonel Meade inquired if he should find the general at the house, or if he was out on the farm. Mr. Custis, not knowing colonel Meade, replied, that the general Avas out; and giving directions as to the part of the farm on which he would probably be found, added, "You will meet, sir, with an old gentleman, riding alone, in plain drah clothes, a broad hrimmed white hat, a hickory switch in his hand, and carrying an umbrella, with a long staff, which is attached to GEORGE WASHINGTON. 69 his saddlc-how, — that, sir, is general Washington .'" The old friend of Washington replied, "Thank ye, thank ye, young gentle- man; I think, if I fall in with the general I shall be rather apt to know him." This description of Washington, gives us some knowledge of how he looked on his farm. So many pictures of him, in different situations, have been drawn, — and young Americans have so often seen him represented on sign-posts in every part of the land, that they think they know exactly how he looked ; but unless they had seen him, instead of pictures of him, they can have no correct idea of his noble appearance. In his youth he was remarkable for the straightness and manliness of his form, which was six feet and two inches high. The expression of his countenance was serious, but very pleasing; his eyes were a mild blue, and the flush of health gave a glow to his cheeks. His step was always firm; but after the toils of the long war, his body was a little bent as he walked, and his once smooth forehead and cheeks, were marked vdth care-worn furrows. The venerable Charles Wilson Peale, who was the founder of the Philadelphia Mtiseum, and lived to enter hjs eighty -sixth year, drew a likeness of him, when he was colonel Washington, in the service of the king of England ; and another, when he was the president of the freed and United States. At Harper's Ferry are extensive public works for making mili- tary arms. If his countrymen regard and follow the important farewell counsel of Washington, to '■'■ Observe good faith and jus- tice towards all nations, and cultivate peace and harmony with all,'''' these arms will not be used, except as weapons of defence; and then not until "the cup of reconciliation is exhausted to the last drop." A weekly school is kept at Harper's Ferry, for the'children of the workmen, and they have the blessing of Sunday school in- struction. If Washington had lived to the time when there are Sunday schools in almost every portion of his native land, no doubt as a christian patriot, he would have rejoiced to see the children, who are to form a nation, taught to know their Creator as he has revealed himself in his word, — to fear, obey, and love him, — and thus secure the blessing of "the faithful God, which "7 * 70 GEORGE WASHINGTON'. keepeth covenant and mercy with them that love him and keep his commandments, to a thousand generations." Washington said, "Of all the dispositions and habits which lead to political prosperity, religion and morality are indispensable supports." Certainly, then, he would have approved of infants being taught to lisp the pure precepts of the gospel, and trained to restrain those natural dispositions, which, if indulged, would make them in manhood, useless or vicious members of the com- munity. He also said, that, "without an humble imitation of the example of the Divine Author of our blessed religion, we cannot hope to be a happy nation." And as Washington always acted as if he believed what he expressed, he would have encouraged the effort to place in every family of his country the bible, which teaches what that divine example was, and how to obtain that "new heart," and "right spirit," which delights in following it. The wants of the poor were neither forgotten nor neglected by Washington. He contributed liberally to the support of schools for the children of the indigent; and the sick and the aged would bear testimony to the benevolence of his heart. On his farm he had a coiTifortable house built for an old English soldier, who had been an attendant of general Braddock, at the time of his defeat ; after his death, he entered into the service of Washington, and continued in it until the close of the provincial war; he then married, and a home was provided for him at Mount Vernon. " He was too old to follow his revered commander in the struggle for independence, and was left at home to enjoy the com- forts which old age requires. Children loved to visit the old sol- dier, and listen to his tales of the Indian war, which he delighted in telling. When Washington was passing round his farm, he often stopped to gladden the heart of the grey-headed veteran with kind words ; and he lived to enjoy the comforts which had been provided for him, until he was eighty years of age. The days of Washington were spent in useful employment;-', and his evenings in the enjoyment of domestic happiness. It was Ihen his custom to read to his family, such new publications as interested him, and on Sunday evenings, the bible and sermons. Sometim.es he would sit, as if he forgot that he was not alone, and raising his hand he would move his lips silently. In town or GEORGE WASHI^GTOX. 71 country, he was a constant attendant at church, and by his devout deportment there, proved that he went to church for the purpose of worshipping God. He always acknowledged by his example, that he felt his solemn obligation to keep holy the Sabbath dav ; and to influence others to do so as far as was in his power. General Washington said, that "both reason and experience forbid us to expect that morality can prevail to the exclusion of religious principle ;" and this sentiment is well supported by the great chief justice Hale, of England, who said, "that of all the persons who were convicted of capital crimes, while he was upon tlie bench, he found a few only, who W'ould not confess, on inqui- ry, that they began their career of wickedness by a neglect of the duties of the Sabbath, and vicious conduct on that day.''"' And no doubt, the prisons of our country could produce a host of witnesses to testify the same. Then the example of Washington in remem- bering "the Sabbath day, to keep it holy,"' was that of a patriot as well as a christian. The peaceful life of Washington on his farm was again dis- turbed by a call from his countrymen to become their leader in the defence of their rights as a nation. The French republic had refused to receive general Pinkney, a highly respectable Ameri- can, whom Washington had sent to France us minister in the year 1796. He was ordered to quit the territories of France ; and at the same time that the French republic expressed great attachment to the people of the United States, they abused the government, and thus showed an intention to endeavor to sepa- rate the people from their government. They also captured American vessels wherever they were found. The government of the United States appointed three envoys, one of whom was general Pinkney, to endeavor to preserve peace "on terms com- patible with the rights, duties, interests, and honor of the nation.*' In the spring of 1798, they informed their government that they had entirely failed, and were treated in a very insulting manner. Two of them were ordered to quit France, and one who was thought to be disposed to favor the designs of the French republic. was permitted to remain. That these designs were to attempt to make the x\jnerican a tributary nation soon became plain, and 72 GEORGE WASHINGTON. throughout the United States the favourite sentiment of all parties was, "millions for defence, but not a cent for tribute." Congress determined on raising an army, and though they re- gretted to deprive the venerable Washington of that rest which he had earned by his past services, they complied with the wishes of his countrymen, and requested him to accept the command of the army. In his reply to this request, which was communicated in a letter from the president, he said, (July 13,) "I cannot ex- press how greatly I am affected by this new proof of public confi- dence. ****** Satisfied that you have sincerely wished and endeavored to avert war, and exhausted to the last drop, the cup of reconciliation ; we can with pure hearts appeal to heaven for the justice of our cause, and may confidently trust the final result to that kind Providence, who has heretofore, and so often signally favored the people of the United States. Thinking in this man- ner, and feeling how incumbent it is upon every person of every description, to contribute at all times to his country's welfare, I have finally determined to accept the commission of commander- in-chief of the armies of the United States, with this reserve only, that I shall not be called into the field until the army is in a situa- tion to require my presence, or it becomes indispensable by the urgency of circumstances." He continued to employ himself on his farm, being ready at any moment to obey a call to the duties of his appointment. He was one day (Dec. 13,) attending to some improvements which he had planned, when a shower of rain fell ; before he could reach a shelter, his clothes were wet : he changed them when he returned home, and sat down to an in-door employment, for he never pass- ed an hour in idleness. In the evening, when he joined his fami- ly at the tea-table, he said he felt a chillness, and after drinking one cup of tea, he went into his library, where he remained alone all the evening, for his family knew that he wished not to be dis- turbed when he was there. His usual hour for retiring to rest was 6 o'clock. When that hour had passed, Mrs. Washin gton be- came uneasy, because she did not hear his well known step, or his call to the family to prepare for bed. When at length he en- tered his chamber, she expressed her surprise that he had staid in his library so late when he was not well ; he replied, "I came as GEORGE WASHINGTON. 73 soon as the business I was engaged in was accomplished; you know that through Ufe it has been my unvaried rule, never to put off till to-morrow the duties which should be performed to-day." Soon after he laid down to rest, he was seized with a violent dis-- ease in his throat, accompanied with a fever. He would not dis- turb his family until towards morning, and he was then bled, but did not feel relieved. At 1 1 o'clock his physician, who was a long loved friend, arrived, and on seeing him, became so much alarm- ed that he desired that two other physicians might be sent for. — They came, but all human skill wasuseless. When Washington felt the chill the evening before, he believed it to be a messenger from his Creator to warn him to prepare for entering "the valley of the shadow of death ;" and he only consented to take the med- icines which were offered to him, because he thouglit it was his duty to gratify his anxious friends. He rose from his bed, and named a place where two papers would be found which he wish- ed tohave. When they were brought, he directed that one should be destroyed, but said, taking the other in his hand, "preserve tliis, it is my will." His disease increased so much that he could not swallow, and he undressed himself and laid down to die, re- questing that he might not be disturbed, and saying, with calmness, "I am dying, and have been dying for a long time, but I am not afraid to die." He did not speak again until the night was far ad- vanced; and then he asked faintly what was the hour, and was answered, "near 12 o'clock." In a few minutes he stretched his form to its full length, folded his arms across his breast, and his countenance became so placid, as his "spirit returned to God who gave it," (December 14,) that the friends who were watching him in almost breathless silence, did not know the moment of his death. His loved wife kneeled beside his bed, with her head resting on the Bible, in which she daily read the precepts and cheering pro- mises of her Saviour; and they comforted her in her hour of deepest sorrow. Her miniature portrait was found on the bosom of Washington, where he had worn it for forty years. The report of his death reached congress before they knew of his sickness ; and when they heard it, a solemn silence prevailed for several minutes; judge Marshall, the present chief justice of the United States, observed, "This information is not certain, but 74 GEOBGE WASHINGTON. there is too much reason to believe it true. After receiving intel- gence of a national calamity so heavy and afflicting, the house of representatives can be but ill-titted for public business." He then moved an adjournment, and both houses adjourned until the next day. When congress then met, Mr. Marshall rose and said, "The melancholy event which was yesterday announced with doubt, has been rendered but too certain; our Washington is no more! The hero, the patriot, the sage of America — the man on whom in times of danger every eye was turned, and all hopes were placed, lives now only in his own great actions, and the hearts of an affectionate and afflicted people. If it had even not been usual openly to testify respect for the memory of those whom heaven has selected as its instruments for dispensing gootl toman, yet such has been the uncommon worth, and such the extraordina- ry incidents which have marked th5 life of him whose loss we de- plore, that the whole American nation, impelled by the same feel- ings, wouW call with one voice for a public manifestation of that sorrow, which is so deep and so universal. More than any other individual, and as much as to one individual was possible, he has contributed to found this our wide-spreading empire, and to give the western world independence and freedom. Having effected the great object for which he was placed at the head of our armies, we have seen him convert the sword into the ploughshare, and sink the soldier into the citizen. "When the debility of our federal system had become manifest, and the bonds which connected this vast continent were dissolving, we have seen him the chief of those patriots who have formed for us a constitution, which, by preserving the union, will, I trust, substantiate and perpetuate those blessings which our revolution had promised to bestow. "In obedience to the general voice of his country calling him to preside over a great people, we have seen him once more quit the retirement he loved, and in a season more stormy and tem- pestuous than war itself, with calm and wise determination pur- sue the true interests of the nation, and contribute more than any other could contribute, to the establishment of that system of poli- cy, which will, I trust, yet preserve our peace, our honor, and our independence. Having been twice unanimously chosen the chief GEORGE WASHINGTON. 75 magistrate of a free people, we have seen him, at a time when his re-election with universal suftrage could not be doubted, afford to the world a rare instance of moderation, by withdrawing from his station to the peaceful walks of private life. However public confidence may change, and the public affections fluctuate with respect to others, they have in war and in peace, in public and in private life, been as steady as his own firm mind, and as constant as his own exalted virtues. Let us, then, pay the last tribute of respect to our departed friend. Let the grand council of the na- tion display those sentiments which the nation feels." Mr. Marshall then proposed several resolutions; one of which was, "Resolved, That a committee, in conjunction with one from the senate, be appointed to consider on the most suitable manner of paying honor to the memory of the man, first in war, first in peace, and first in the hearts of his fellow citizens." The senate addressed a letter to the president, in which they said, "Permit us, sir, to mingle our tears with yours. On this oc- casion it is manly to weep. To lose such a man at such a crisis, is no common calamity to the world. Our country mourns a fa- ther. The Almighty Disposer of human events, has taken from us our greatest benefactor and ornament. It becomes us to submit with reverence to him 'who maketh darkness his pavilion.' " The president returned an answer expressive of his sorrow for the death of Washington, and in the conclusion of it, said, "His ex- ample is now complete,- and it will teach wisdom and virtue to magistrates, citizens and men, not only in the present age, but in future generations, as long as our history shall be read." The people throughout the United States, mourned for Wash- ington. They had been ever ready to unite in expressing their grateful attachment to him, and they felt that they had indeed lost their greatest benefactor. In his will, which was a just and benevolent one, he directed that his body should be laid in a vault, at Mount Vernon, and add- ed, "It is my express desire, that my corpse may be interred in a private manner, without parade or funeral oration." On the 18th of December, he was laid in the grave, "the house appointed for all living;" and the last home of Washington is an humble grass-covered tomb, surrounded with evergreens. 70 JOSEPH WAREEN. JOSEPH WARREN, Major-General in the American Army. Joseph Warren, whose biography is given in the following pages, was born in Roxbury, Massachusetts, in the year 1741, — His father was a respectable farmer in that town, and was elected by his fellow citizens to several municipal offices, the duties of which he discharged to general acceptance. Little is known res- pecting the early years of young Warren. Joseph, with several of his brothers, was instructed in the elementary branches of knowledge, at the public grammar school of the town, which was distinguished for its successive instructors of superior attainments. In 1755, he entered college, where he sustained the character of a youth of talents, fine manners, and of a generous, independent deportment, united to great personal courage and perseverance. An anecdote will illustrate his fearlessness and determination at that age, when character can hardly be said to be formed. Sev- eral students of Warren's class shut themselves in a room to ar- range some college affairs, in a way which they knew was con- trary to his wishes, and barred the door so effectually that he could not without great violence force it : but he did not give over the at- tempt of getting among them; for perceiving that the window of Jhe room in which they were assembled was open, and near a spout which extended from the roof of the building to the ground, he went to the top of the house, slid down to the eaves, seized the spout, and when he had descended as far as the window, threw himself into the chamber among them. At that instant the spout, which was decayed and weak, gave way and fell to the ground. He looked at it without emotion, said that it had served his purpose, and began to take his part in the business, A spectator of this feat and narrow escape related this fact to me in the college yard, nearly half a century afterwards; and the impression it made on his mind was so strong, that he seemed to feel the same emotion as though it happened but an hour before. ■ On leaving college in 1759, Warren turned his attention to the study of medicine, under the direction of Dr. Lloyd, an eminent physician of that day, whose valuable life has been protracted al- most to the present time, Warren was distinguished very soon after he commenced practice ; for when, in 1764, the small-po.\ JOSEPH WARREN. 77 spread in Boston, he was among the most successful in his method of treating that disease, which was then considered the most dread- ful scourge of the human race; and the violence of which had baffled the efforts of the learned faculty of medicine from the time of its first appearance. From this moment he stood high among his brethren, and was the favorite of the people ; and what he gained in their good will he never lost. His personal appearance, his address, his courtesy, and his humanity, won the way to the hearts of all; and his knowledge and superiority of talents, secur- ed the conquest, A bright and lasting fame in his profession, with the attendant consequences, wealth and influence, were within his reach, and near at hand ; but the calls of a distracted country were paramount to every consideration of his own interests, and he en- tered the vortex of politics never to return to the peaceful course of professional labor. The change in public opinion had been gradually preparing the minds of most men for a revolution. This was not openly avowed ; amelioration of treatment for the present, and assurances of kind- ness in future, were all that the colonies asked from Great Britain — but these they did not receive. The mother country mis- look the spirit of her children, and used threats, when kindness would have been the best policy. When Britain declared her right to direct, govern, and tax us in any form, and at all times, the colonies reasoned, remonstrated, and entreated for awhile; and when these means did not answer, they defied and resisted. The pohtical writers of the province had been active and busy, but they were generally screened by fictitious names, or sent their productions anonymously into the world : but the time had arrived, when speakers of nerve and boldness were wanted to raise their voices against oppression in every shape. Warren possessed first rate qualites for an orator, and had early declared in the strongest terms his political sentiments, which were somewhat in advance of public opinion; for he held as tyranny all taxation, which could" be imposed by the British parliament upon the colonies. In times of danger, the people are sagacious, and cling to those who best can ser^'e them; and every eye wa£ on him in every emergency ; for he had not only the firmness and decision they wished for in a Jeader, but was prudent and wary iu all his plan?. His first object 78 JOSEPH WARRE3V. v/as to enlighten the people ; and then he felt sure of engaging their feelings in the general cause. He knew when once they began, it would be impossible to tread back — independence only would satisfy the country. With an intention of directing public sentiment, without appearing to be too active, he met frequently with a considerable number of substantial mechanics, and others in the middle classes of society, who were busy in politics. This crisis required such a man as they found him to be ; one who could discern the signs of the times, and mould the ductile mate- rials to his will, and at the same time seem only to follow in the path of others. His letter to Barnard, which attracted the notice of government, had been written several years before, in 1768 j but in some form or other he was constantly enlightening the peo- ple by his pen ,• but it is now difficult, and of no great importance to trace him in the papers of that period. The public was not then always right in designating the authors of political essays. In the different situations in which he was called to act, he assum- ed as many characters as fable has ever given to the tutelar god of his profession, and like him, in every one of them he retained the wisdom to guide, and the power to charm. At one time he might be found restraining the impetuosity, and bridling the fury of those hot-headed politicians who felt more than they reasoned, and dared to do more than became men. Such was his versatility, that he turned from these lectures of caution and prudence, to as- serting and defending the most bold and undisguised principles of liberty, and defying in their very teeth the agents of the crown. Twice he was elected to deliver the oration on the 5th of March, in commemoration of the massacre; and his orations are among the most distinguished, produced by that splendid list of speakers who addressed their fellow-citizens on this subject, so interesting to them all. In these productions generally, the immediate causes of this event were overlooked, and the remote ones alone were discussed. Here they were on safe ground; for tyranny, in its in- cipient stages, has no excuse from opposition ; but in its march, it generally finds some plausible arguments for its proceedings, drawn from the very resistance it naturally produces. These oc- casions gave the orators a fine field for remark, and a fair opportu- mity for effect. The great orators of antiquity, in their speeches, JOSEPH WARREN. 79 attempted only to rouse the people to retain what they possessed. Invective, entreaty, and pride had their effect in assisting these niii^hty masters to influence the people. They were ashamed to lose what their fathers left them, won by their blood, and so long preserved by their wisdom, their virtues and their courage. Our statesmen had a hard task to perform,- for they were compelled to call on the people to gain what they had never enjoyed — an inde- pendent rank and standing among the nations of the world. His next oration was delivered March Gth, 1775. It was at his own solicitation that he was appointed to this duty a second time. The fact is illustrative of his character, and worthy of rememb- rance. Some British officers of the army then in Boston, had publicly declared that it should be at the price of the life of any man to speak of the event of March 5, 1770, on that anniver- sary. Warren's soul took fire at such a threat, so openly made, and he wished for the honor of braving it. This was readily gran- ted ; for at such a time a man would probably find but few rivals. Many who would spurn the thought of personal fear, might be ap- prehensive that they would be so far disconcerted as to forget their discourse. It is easier to fight bravely, than to tliink clearly or correctly in danger. Passion sometimes nerves the arm to fight, but disturbs the regular current of thought. The day came, and the weather was remarkably fine. The Old South meeting-house was crowded at an early hour. The British officers occupied the aisles, the fiight of steps to the pulpit, and several of them were within it. It was not precisely known whether this Avas accident or design. The orator, with the assistance of his friends, made his entrance at the pulpit window by a ladder. The officers see- ing his coolness and intrepidity, made way for him to advance and address the audience. An awful stillness preceded his exordium. Each man felt the palpitations of his own heart, and saw the pale, but determined face of his neighbor. — The speaker began his oration in a firm tone of voice, and proceeded with great energy and pa- thos. Warren and his friends were prepared to chastise contume- ly, prevent disgrace, and avenge an attempt at assassination. The scene was sublime ; a patriot, in whom the flush of youth and the grace and dignity of manhood were combined, stood armed in the sanctuary of God, to animate and encourage the sons of 80 JOSEPH WARREN, liberty, and to hurl defiance at their oppressors. The orator cont' menced with the early history of the country, described the tenure by which we held our liberties and property — the affection we had constantly shown the parent country, and boldly told them how, and by whom these blessings of life had been violated. There was in this appeal to Britain — in this description of suffering, agony and horror, a calm and high-souled defiance which must have chilled the blood of every sensible foe. Such another hour has seldom happened in the history of man, and is not surpassed in the re- cords of nations. The thunders of Demosthenes rolled at a dis- tance from Philip and his host — and Tully poured the fiercest tor- rent of hisinvective when Cataline was at a distance, and his dag- ger no longer to be feared ; but Warren's speech was made to proud oppressors resting on their arms, whose errand it was to overawe, and whose business it was to fight. If the deed of Brutus deserved to be commemorated by history, poetry, painting, and sculpture, should not this instance of patriot- ism and bravery be held in lasting remembrance ? If he " That struck the foremost man of all this world,'''' was hailed as the firstof freemen, what honors are not due to him, who, undismayed, bearded the British lion, to show the world what his countrymen dared to do in the cause of liberty? If the statue of Brutus was placed among those of the gods, who were the pre- servers of Roman freedom, should not that of Warren fill a lofty niche in the temple reared to perpetuate the remembrance of our birth as a nation? If independence was not at first openly avowed by our leading men at that time, the hope of attaining it was fondly cherished, and the exertions of the patriots pointed to this end. The wise knew the storm, which the political Prosperos were raising, would pass away in blood. With these impressions on his mind, Warren for several years was preparing himself by study and observation, to take a conspicuous rank in the military arrangements which he knew must ensue. On the 18th of April, 1775, by his agents in Boston, he dis- covered the design of the British commander to seize or destroy our few stores at Concord. He instantly despatched several con- fident messengers to Lexington. The late venerable patriot, Paul JOSEPH WARREN. 81 Revere, was one of them. This gentleman has given a very in- teresting account of the dilficulties he encountered in the discharge of this duty. The alarm was given, and the militia, burning with resentment, were at day -break, on the 19th, on the road to repel insult and aggression. The drama was opened about sunrise, within a few yards of the house of God, in Lexington. Warren hastened to the field of action, in the full ardor of his soul, and shared the dangers of the day. While pressing on the enemy, a musket ball took off a lock of his hair close to his ear. The lock was rolled and pinned, after the fashion of that day, and con- siderable force must have been necessary to have cut it away. The people were delighted with his cool, collected bravery, and already considered him as a leader whose gallantry they were to admire, and in whose talents they were to confide. On the 14th of June, 1775, the provincial congress of Massachusetts made him a major-general of their forces, but previous to the date of his commission, he had been unceasing in his exertions to maintain order and enforce discipline among the troops, which had hastily assembled at Cambridge, after the battle of Lexington. He mingled in the ranks, and by every method and argument strove to inspire them with confidence, and succeeded in a most wonder- ful manner in imparting to them a portion of the flame which glowed in his own breast. At such a crisis genius receives its birth-right — the homage of inferior minds, who, for self preserva- tion, are willing to be directed Previous to receiving the appoint- ment of major-general, he had been requested to take the office of physician-general to the army ; but he chose to be where wounds were to be made, rather than where they were to be healed. Yet he lent his aid and advice to the medical department of the army, and was of great service to them in their organization and ar- rangements. He was at this time president of the provincial congress, having been elected the preceding year a member from the town of Bos- ton. In this body he displayed his extraordinary powers of mind, and his peculiar fitness for responsible offices at such a juncture. Cautious in proposing measures, he was assiduous in pursuing what he thought, after mature deliberation, to be right, and never counted the probable cost of a measure, when he had decided that 82 JOSEPH WARREN. it was necessary to be taken. When this congress, which was pitting at Watertown, adjourned for the day, he mounted his horse and hastened to the camp. Every day "he bought golden opinions of all sorts of men ;" and M'hen the troops were called to act on Breed's Hill, he had so often been among them, that his person was known to most of the soldiers. Several respectable historians have fallen into some errors in describing the battle in which he fell, by giving the command of the troops on that day to Warren, when he was only a volunteer in the fight. He did not arrive on the battle ground until the en- emy had commenced their movements for the attack. As soon as he made his appearance on the field, the veteran commander of the day, colonel Prescott, desired to act under his directions, but Warren declined taking any other part than that of a volunteer, and added that he came to learn the art of war from an experi- enced soldier, whose orders he should be happy to obey. In the battle he was armed with a musket, and stood in the ranks, now and then changing his place to encourage his fellow soldiers by words and example. He undoubtedly, from the state of hostilities, expected soon to act in his high military capacity, and it was in- dispensable, according to his views, that he should share the dan- gers of the field as a common soldier with his fellow citizens, that his reputation for bravery might be put beyond the possibility of a .suspicion. The wisdom of such a course would never have been doubted, if he had returned with safety from the fight. In such a struggle for independence, the ordinary rules of prudence and caution could not govern those who were building up their names for future usefulness by present exertion. Some maxims drawn from the republican writers of antiquity were worn as their mottos. Some precepts descriptive of the charms of liberty, were ever on their tongues, and some classical model of Greek or Roman patri- otism, was constantly in their minds. Instances of great men mixing in the i-anks of common soldiers, were to be found in anci- ent times, when men fought for their altars and their homes. The cases were parallel, and the examples were imposing. When the battle was decided, and our people fled, Warren was one of the last who left the breast-work, and was slain within a few yards of it, as he was slowly retiring. He probably felt mortified at the .4' JOSEPH WARREN. 83 event of the day, but had he known how dearly the victory was purchased, and how little honor was gained by those who won it, his heart might have been at rest. Like the band of Leonidas, the vanquished have received by the judgment of nations, from which there is no appeal, the imperishable laurels of victors. His death brought a sickness to the heart of the community; and the people mourned his fall, not with the convulsive agony of a betrothed virgin over the bleeding corse of her lover — but with the pride of the Spartan mother, who in the intensity of her grief, smiled to see that the wounds whence life had flown, were on the breast of her son — and was satisfied that he had died in the de- fence of his country. The worth of the victim, and the horror of the sacrifice, gave a higher value to our liberties, and produced a more fixed determination to preserve them. The battle of Bunker Hill has often been described, and of late its minutest details given to the public, but never was the military, moral, and political character of that great event more forcibly drawn, than in the following extract from the North American Review, for July, 1818: — "The incidents and the result of the battle itself, were most im- portant, and indeed, most wonderful. As a mere battle, few sur- pass it in whatever engages and interests the attention. It was fought on a conspicuous eminence, in the immediate neighborhood of a populous city; and consequently in the view of thousands of spectators. The attacking army moved over a sheet of water to the assault. The operations and movements were of course all visible and distinct. — Those who looked on from the houses and heights of Boston had a fuller view of every important operation and event, than can ordinarily be had of any battle, or than can possibly be had of such as are fought on a more extended ground, 01" by detachments of troops acting on different places, and at dif- ferent times, and in some measure independently of each other. — When the British columns were advancing to the attack, the flames of Charleston, (fired as is generally supposed, by a shell,) began to ascend. The spectators, far outnumbering both armies, thronged and crowded on every height and every point which af- forded a view of the scene, themselves constituted a very impor- tant part of it. V. 84 JOSEPH WARREN. "The troops of the two armies seemed like so many combatants in an amphi-theatre. — The manner in which they should acquit themselves, was to be judged of, not as in other cases of military engagements, by reports and future history, but by a vast and anxious assembly already on the spot, and waiting with unspeak- able concern and emotion, the progress of the day. "In other battles the recollection of wives and children has been used as an excitement to animate the warrior's breast and nerve his arm. Here was not a mere recollection, but an actual presence of them, and other dear connexions, hanging on the skirts of the battle, anxious and agitated, feeling almost as if wounded themselves by every blow of the enemy, and putting forth, as it were, their own strength, and all the energy of their own throb- bincr bosoms, into every gallant effort of their warring friends. "But there was a more comprehensive and vastly more impor- tant view of that day's contest than has been mentioned, — a view- indeed, which ordinary eyes, bent intently on what was immedi- ately before them, did not embrace, but which was perceived in its full extent and expansion, by minds of a higher order. Those men who were at the head of the colonial councils, who had been engaged for years in the previous stages of the quarrel with Eng- land, and who had been accustomed to look forward to the future, were well apprised of the magnitude of the events likely to hang on the business of that day. They saw in it not only a battle, but the beginning of a civil war, of unmeasured extent and uncertain issue. All America and all England were likely to be deeply con- cerned in the consequences. The individuals themselves, who knew full well what agency they had had, in bringing affairs to this crisis, had need of all their courage ; — not that disregard of personal safety, in which the vulgar suppose true courage to con- sist, but that high and fixed moral sentiment, that steady and de- cided purpose, which enables men to pursue a distant end, w ith a fall view of the difficulties and dang before them, and with a conviction that, before they arrive at the proposed end, should the} ever reach it, they must pass through evil report as well as gootl report, and be liable to obloquy, as w^ell as to defeat. "Spirits, that fear nothing else, fear disgrace ; and this danger is necessarily encountered by those who engage in civil war. — I JOSEPH WAHKEN. 85 Unsuccessful resistance is not only ruin to its authors, but is es- teemed, and necessarily so, by the laws of all countries, treasona- ble. This is the case, at least till resistance becomes so general and formidable as to assume the form of regular war. But who can tell, when resistance commences, whether it will attain even to that degree of success ? Some of those persons who signed the declaration of independence in 1776, described themselves as signing it, 'as with halters about their necks.' If there were grounds for this remark in 1776, when the cause had become so much more general, how much greater was the hazard, when the battle of Bunker Hill was fought? "These considerations constituted, to enlarged and liberal minds, the moral sublimity of the occasion; while to the outward senses tlie movement of armies, the roar of artillery, the brilliancy of the reflection of a summer's sun from the burnished armour of the British columns, and the flames of a burning town, made up a scene of extraordinary grandeur. "This eminence has become sacred ground. It contains in its bosom the ashes of the brave who died fighting to defend their al- tars and their homes. Strangers from all countries visit this spot, for it is associated in their memories with Marathon and Plataea, and all the mighty struggles of determined freemen. Our citizens love to wander over this field — the aged to awake recollections, and the youthful to excite heroic emotions. The battle ground is now all plainly to be seen — the spirit of modern improvemetfit, which would stop the sti-eams of Helicon to turn a mill and cause to be felled the trees of Paradise to make a rafter, has yet spared this hallowed height. "If 'the days of chivalry be gone forever,' and the high and enthusiastic feelings of generosity and magnanimity be not so widely diflfused as in more heroic ages, yet it cannot be denied but that there have been, anjj still are, individuals whose bosoms are warmed with a spirit as gr -fing and ethereal as ever swelled the heart of 'mailed knight,' wlio, in the ecstacies of love, religion, and martial glory, joined the war-cry on the plains of Palestine, or proved his steel on the infidel foe. The history of every revolu- tion is interspersed with brilliant episodes of individual prowess. The pages of our own history, when fully written out, will spar- kle profusely with these gems of romantic valor. 8(3 JOSEPH WARREN, "The calmness and indifference of the veteran 'in clouds of dust, and seas of blood,' can only be acquired by long acquain- tance with the trade of death ; but the heights of Charlestown will bear eternal testimony how suddenly, in the cause of free- dom, the peaceful citizen can become the invincible warrior — stung by oppression, he springs forward from his tranquil pursuits, undaunted by opposition, and undismayed by danger, to fight even to death for the defence of his rights. Parents, wives, children, and country, all the hallowed properties of existence, arc to him tiie talisman that takes fear from his heart, and nerves his arm to victory. In the requium over those who have fallen in the cause of their country, which " TVme with his own eternal lips shall sing^^ the praises of Warreiv shall be distinctly heard. The blood of those patriots who have fallen in the defence of republics, has of- ten "cried from the ground" against the ingratitude of the country for which it was shed. No monument was reared to their fame; no record of their virtues written ; no fostering hand extended to their oftspring — but they and their deeds were neglected and for- gotten. Toward Warren there was no ingratitude — our country is free from this stain. Congress were the guardians of his honor, and remembered that his children were unprotected orphans: — Within a year after his death congress passed the following resolu- tions: "That a monument be erected to the memory of general Warren, in the town of Boston, with the following inscription : In honor of JOSEPH WARREN, Major-General of Massachusetts Bay. He devoted his life to the liber- ^ ties of his country, and, in bravely defending them, fell an early vic- tim in the BATTLE OF BUNKER HILL, June 17, 1775. The congress of the United States, as an acknowledgment of his ser- vices and distinguished merit, have erected this monument to his memory. NATHANIEL GREENE. 87 "It was resolved, likewise, "that the eldest son of general War- ren should be educated, from that time, at the expense of the United States." On the 1st of July, 1780, congress recognising these former resolutions, further resolved, 'That it should be re- commended to the executive of Massachusetts Bay, to make pro- vision for the maintenance and education of his three younger children. And that congress would defray the expense to the amount of half-pay of a major-general, to commence at the time of his death, and continue till the youngest of the children should be of age." The part of the resolutions relating to the education of the children, was carried into effect accordingly. The monu- ment is not yet erected, but it is not too late. The shade of War- ren will not repine at this neglect, while the ashes of Washington repose without grave-stone or epitaph." — Biographical Sketches, NATHANIEL GREENE, Major-General in the American Army. Perhaps nothing more strikingly illustrates the excellence of free institutions, than the facilities afforded indigent merit of ris- ing by its own exertions to its proper station in the community. — It was this circumstance which enabled Nathaniel Greene, the son of an anchor maker, and a member of the society of Friends, to emerge from obscurity and become one of the most distinguished of that glorious band that achieved our national independence. Greenft was, in all respects, what is properly termed a "self-made man. " That is, he was his own instructor, and the founder of his own fame and fortune. He was the second son of Nathaniel Greene, and was born, 1741, in the town of Warwick, county of Kent, Rhode Island. Being intended by his father, for the business which he himself pursued, young Greene received, at school, nothing but the ele- ments of a common English education. But to him, an education so limited, was unsatisfactory. With such funds as he was able to raise, he purchased a small, but well selected library, and spent his evenings, and all the time he could redeem from his father's business, in regular study. At a period of life, unusually early, Greene was elevated, by a very flattering suffrage, to a seat in the legislature of his native 88 NATHANIEL GREENE, colony. This was the commencement of a public career, which, heightening as it advanced, and flourishing in the midst of diffi- culties, closed with a lustre that was peculiarly dazzling. Thus introduced into the councils of his country, at a time when the rights of the subject, and the powers of the ruler, were beginning to be topics of liberal discussion, he felt it his duty to avow his sentiments on the momentous question. Nor did he pause or waver, as to the principles he should adopt, and the de- cision he should form. He was inflexibly opposed to tyranny and oppression in every shape, and manfully avowed it. But his character, although forming, was not completely developed until the commencement of the troubles which terminated in our inde- pendence. It was then that he aspired to a lead in the public councils; and, throwing from him, as unsuitable to the times, the peaceful habits in which he had been educated, sternly declared for a redress of grievances, or open resistance. This open de- parture from the sectarian principles in which he had been edu- cated, was followed, of course, by his immediate dismissal from ihe society of Friends. The sword was earliest unsheathed in the colony of Massachu- setts ; and on the plains of Lexington and Concord, the blood of British soldiers, and American subjects, mingled first in hostile strife. Nor was Rhode Island, after that sanguinary afiair, be- hind her sister colonies, in gallantry of spirit and promptitude of preparation. Greene commenced his military pupilage in the capacity of a private soldier, in October, 1774, in a military association, com- manded by James M. Varnum, afterwards brigadier-general. But Rhode Island having in the month of May, 1775, raised three regiments of militia, she placed them under the command of Greene, who, without loss of time, conducted them to head quar- ters, in the village of Cambridge. On the 2d of July, 1775, general Washington, invested by con- gress with the command in chief of the armies of his country, arrived at Boston. Greene availed himself of an early opportu- nity amid the public demonstration of joy, to welcome the com- mander-in-chief, in a personal address, in which, with much warmth of feeling, and kindness of expression, he avowed his at- NATHANIEL GREENE. 89 tachment to his person, and the high gratification he derived from the prospect of being associated with him in arms, and serving under him, in defence of the violated rights of his country. This was a happy prelude to a friendship between these two great and illustrious officers, which death alone had the power to dissolve. It is a fact of notoriety, that when time and acquain- tance had made him thoroughly acquainted witli the character of general Greene, Washington entertained and frequently expressed an anxious wish, that, in case of his death, he might be appointed his successor to the supreme command. During the investment of Boston, by the American forces, a state of things which lasted for months, no opportunity presented itself to Greene, to acquire distinction, by personal exploit. But his love of action, and spirit of adventure, were strongly manifested; for he was one of the few officers of rank, who concurred with general Washington, in the propriety of attempting to carry the town by assault. On the evacuation of Boston by the British, the American troops were permitted to repose from their toils, and to exchange, for a ' time, the hardships and privations of field encampment, for the en- joyment of plenty, in comfortable barracks. During this period of relaxation, Greene continued, with unabating industry, his military studies, and as far as opportunity served, his attention to the prac- tical duties of the field. This course, steadily pursued, under the immediate supervision of Washington, could scarcely fail to pro- cure rank, and lead to eminence. Accordingly, on the 2Gth of August, 1776, he was promoted, by congress, to the rank of ma- jor-general in the regular army. A crisis, most glowing and portentous to the cause of freedom had now arrived. In the retreat which now commenced, through New-Jersey, general Washington was accompanied by general Greene, and received from him all the aid, that, under circum- stances so dark and unpromising, talents, devotion, and firmness could aflford. Possessed alike of ardent temperament, hearts that neither danger nor misfortune could appal, and an inspiring trust in the righteousness of their cause, it belonged to the character of these two great and illustrious commanders, never for a moment to despair of their country. Hope and confidence, even now, 9 90 NATHANIEL GREENE. beamed from their countenances, and they encouraged their fol- lowers, and supported them under the pressure of defeat and mis- fortune. Greene was one of the coi^ncil of Washington, who resolved on the enterprise of the 26th of December, 1776, against the post of the enemjf at Trenton. The issue is known, and is glorious in our history. About one thousand Hessians, in killed, wounded, and prisoners, with their arms, field equipage, and artillery, were the trophies of that glorious morning, which opened on the friends of American freedom, with the day-star of hope. He was again of the council of the commander-in-chief, in planning the daring attack of the 2d of January, 1777, on the British garrison at Prince- ton, as well as his associate in achieving its execution. In both these brilliant actions, his gallantry, prudence, and skill, being a- like conspicuous, he received the applauses of his commander. He continued the associate and most confidential counsellor of Washington, through the gloomy and ominous period that followed. In the obstinate and bloody battle of Brandywine, general Greene, by his distinguished conduct added greatly to his former renown. In the course of it, a detachment of American troops, commanded by general Sullivan, being unexpectedly attacked by the enemy, retreated in disorder. General Greene, at the head of Weeden's Virginia brigade, flew to their support. On ap- proaching, he found the defeat of general Sullivan a perfect rout. Not a moment was to be lost. Throwing himself into the rear of his flying countrymen, and retreating slowly, he kept up, especial- ly from his cannon, so destructive a fire, as greatly to retard the advance of the enemy. Aiming at length at a narrow defile, se- cured on the right and left by thick woods, he halted, sent forward his cannon, that they might be out of danger, in case of his being compelled to a hasty retreat, and formed his troops, determined to dispute the pass with his small arms. This he effected with com- plete success, notwithstanding the vast superiority of the assail- ants; until after a conflict of more than an hour and a half, night came on, and brought it to a close. But for this quick-sighted in- terposition, Sullivan's detachment must have been nearly annihi- lated. On this occasion only, did the slightest misunderstanding ever NATIIAIflEL GREENE. 91 occur between general Greene, ^nd the commander-in-chief. In his general orders after the battle, the latter neglected to bestow any special applause on Weeden's brigade. Against this, general Greene remonstrated in person. General Washington replied, "You, sir, are considered my fa- vorite officer. Weeden's brigade, like myself, are Virginians. Should I applaud them for their achievement under your com- mand, I shall be charged with partiality; jealousy will be excited, and the service injured." "Sir," exclaimed Greene, with considerable emotion, "I trust your excellency will do me the justice to believe that I am not selfish. In my own behalf, I have nothing to ask. Act towards mens 3"ou please; I shall not complain. However richly I prize your excellency's good opinion and applause, a consciousness that I have endeavored to do my duty, constitutes at present, my rich- est reward. But do not, sir, let me entreat you, on account of the jealousy that may arise in little minds, withhold justice from the brave fellows I had the honor to command." Convinced that prudence forbade the special notice requested, the commander-in-chief persisted in his silence. Greene, on cool reflection, appreciated the motives of his general, and lost no time in apologizing for his intemperate manner, if not for his expres- sions. — Delighted with his frankness and magnanimity, Washing- ton replied, with a smile, — "An officer, tried as you have been who errs but once in two years, deserves to be forgiven." — With that, he ofiered him his hand, and the matter terminated. Following general Greene in his military career, he next pre- sents himself on the plains of Germantown. In this daring as- sault, he commanded the left wing of the American army, and his utmost endeavors were used to retrieve the fortune of the day, in which his conduct met the approbation of the commander-in-chief. Lord Cornwallis, to whom he was often opposed, had the magna- nimity to bestow on him a lofty encomium. "Greene," said he, "is as dangerous as Washington. He is vigilant, enterprising, and full of resources. With but little hope of gaining any advan- tage over him, I never feel secure when encamped in his neighbor- hood." At this period, the quarter-master department in the American 92 NATHANIEL GREENE. army, was in a veiy defective and-alarming condition^ and required a speedy and radical reform ; and general Washington declared, that such reform could be effected only by the appointment of a quarter-master-general, of great resources, well versed in busi- ness, and possessing practical talents of the first order. When requested by congress, to look out for such an officer, he, at once, fixed his eyes on general Greene. Washington well knew that the soul of Greene, was indissolu- bly wedded to the duties of the line. Notwithstanding this, he ex- pressed, in conversation with a member of congress, his entire persuasion, that if general Greene could be convinced of his abil- ity to render his country greater services in the quarter-master department, than in the field, he would at once accept the ap- pointment. "There is not," said he, "an officer of the army, nor a man in America, more sincerely attached to the interests of his country. Could he best promote their interests in the charac- ter of a corporal, he would exchange, as I firmly believe, without a znurmur, the epaulet for the knot. For although he is not with- out ambition, that ambition has not for its object, the highest rank so much as the greatest goodP When the appointment was first offered general Greene, he de- clined it, but after a conference with the commander-in-chief, he consented to an acceptance, on condition, that he should forfeit nothing of his right to command, in time of action. On these terms he received the appointment, on the22d of March, 1778, and en- tered immediately on the duties of the office. In this station he fully answered the expectations formed of his abilities, and ena- bled the American army to move with additional celerity and vigor. During his administration of the quarter-master department, he took, on two occasions, a high and distinguished part in the field; the first in the battle of Monmouth ; the second in a very brilliant expedition against the enemy in Rhode Island, under the com- mand of general Sullivan. At the battle of Monmouth, the com- mander-in-chief, disgusted with the behavior of general Lee, de- posed him on the field of battle, and appointed general Greene to command the right wing, where he greatly contributed to retrieve the errors of his predecessor, and to the subsequent events of the day. NATHANIEL GREENE. 93 His return to his native state was hailed by the inhabitants, with general and lively demonstrations of joy. Even the leading members of the society of Friends, who had reluctantly excluded him from their communion, often visited him at his quarters, and expi'essed their sincere satisfaction at the elevation he had at- tained in the confidence of his country. One of these plain gentle- men being asked, in jest, by a young officer, how he, as an advo- cate of peace, could reconcile it to his conscience to keep so much company with general Greene, whose profession was war? — promptly replied, "Friend, it is not a suit of uniform that can ei- ther make or spoil a man. True, I do not approve of this many- colored apparel, (the officers' dress,) but whatever may be the form or color of his coat, Nathaniel Greene still retains the same sound head and virtuous heart that gained him the love and es- teem of our society." During the year 1779, general Greene was occupied exclusive- ly in the extensive concerns of the quarter-master department. About this time general Greene was called to the performance of a duty, the most trying and painful he had ever encountered. We allude to the melancholy affair of major Andre, adjutant-gen- eral to the British army, who was captured in disguise within the American lines. Washington detailed a court for his trial, com- posed of fourteen general officers, Lafayette and Steuben being two of the number, and appointed general Greene to preside. When summoned to his trial, Andre frankly disclosed without interrogatory, what bore heaviest on his own life, but inviolably concealed whatever might endanger the safety of others. His confessions were conclusive, and no witness was examined against him. The court were unanimous, that he had been taken as a spy, and must suffer death. Of this sentence he did not complain, but wished that he might be permitted to close a life of honor by a professional death, and not be compelled like a common felon, to expire on a gibbet. To effect this, he made, in a letter to general Washington, one of the most powerful and pathetic appeals that ever fell from the pen of a mortal. Staggered in his resolution, the commander-in-chief referred the subject, accompanied by the letter, to his general officers, who, with one exception, became unanimous in their desire that Andre should be shot. 9* 94 NATHANIEL GREENE. That exception was found in general Greene, the president of the court. "Andre," said he, "is either a spy or an innocent man. If the latter, to execute him, in any way, will be murder; if the former, the mode of his death is prescribed by law, and you have no right to alter it. Nor is this all. At the present alarming crisis of our affairs, the public safety calls for a solemn and im- pressive example. Nothing can satisfy it, short of the execution of the prisoner as a common spy ; a character of which his own confession has clearly convicted him. Beware how you suffer your feelings to triumph over your judgment. Besides, if you shoot the prisoner, instead of hanging him, you will excite suspi- cions which you will be unable to allay. Notwithstanding all your efforts to the contrary, you will awaken public compassion ; and the belief will become general, that in the case of major Andre there were exculpatory circumstances, entitling him to lenity beyond what he received — perhaps entitling him to pardon. — Hang him, therefore, or set him free." This reasoning being considered conclusive, the prisoner suffered as a common spy. We have now advanced to that period of the revolutionary war, in which the situation of Greene is about to experience an entire change. No longer acting in the vicinity, or subject to the imme- diate orders of a superior, we are to behold him, in future, removed to a distance, and virtually invested with the supreme command of a large section of the United States. Congress, dissatisfied with the loss of the southern army, re- solved that the conduct of general Gates be submitted to the ex- amination of a court of inquiry, and the commander-in-chief di- rected to appoint an officer to succeed him. * In compliance with the latter part of the resolution, general Washington, without hes- itation, offered the appointment to general Greene. In a letter to Congress, recommending the general support of that body, he made the most honorable mention of him, as "an officer in whose abilities, fortitude and integrity, from a long and intimate exper- ience of them, he had the most entire confidence." Writing to Mr. Mathews, a member from Charleston, he says, "You have your wish, in the officer appointed to the southern command. I ihink I am giving you a general ; but what can a general do with- out arms, without clothing, without stores, without provisions ?" NATHANIEL GREENE. 95 General Greene ai-rived at Charlotte, the head-quarters of gen- eral Gates, Dec. 2d, 1780, and in entering on the duties of his command, he found himself in a situation that was fearfully em- barrassing. His army, consisting mostly of militia, amounted to less than two thousand men, and he found on hand but three days' provision, and a very defective supply of ammunition. In front was an enemy, proud in victory, and too strong to be encountered. With such means, and under such circumstances, to recover two states, already conquered, and protect a third, constituted a task that was almost hopeless. It was not merely to meet an enemy in the field, to command skil- fully, and fight bravely, either in proffered or accepted battle. — These operations depend on mere professional qualifications, that can be readily acquired by moderate capacities. But to raise and provide for an army in a dispirited and devastated country, creating resources where they do not exist; to operate with an im- competent force on an extended and broken line of frontier; to hold in check, in many points, and to avoid coming into contact in any, with an enemy superior in numbers and discipline ; — to con- duct a scheme of warfare like this, and such, precisely, was that which tested the abilities of general Greene, requires a genius of the highest order, combined with indefatigable industry and skill. Preparatory to the commencement of the campaign, Greene's first care was to prepare for his troops, subsistence and ammuni- tion; and in effecting this, he derived great aid from his personal experience in the business of the commissary and quarter-master's departments. This qualification for such a diversity of duties, presented him to his troops in the two-fold relation of their suppor- ter and commander. Much of the moral strength of an army consists in a confidence in its leader, an attachment to his person, and a spirit of subordination, founded on principle. To puch an extent was this true, that even the common soldiery, sensible of the superintendence of a superior intellect, predicted confidently a change of fortune. Their defeat at Camden was soon forgoti en by them, in their anticipations of future victory. They fancied themselves ready once more to take the field, and felt a solicitude to regain their lost reputation, and signalize their prowess in pres- ence of their new and beloved commander. 96 NATHANIEL GREENE. But, notwithstanding the spirit and confidence of his troops, Greene found himself unable to meet the enemy in the field. — With Washington in his eye, and his own genius to devise his measures, he resolved on cautious movements and protracted war. Yet, to sustain the spirit of the country, it was necessary that he should not altogether shun his enemy; but watching and confron- ting his scouts and foraging parties, fight, cripple, and beat him in detail : and in all his movements, it was necessary for him to main- tain a communication with Virginia, from which he was to receive supplies of provisions, munitions and men. General Greene's first movement from the village of Charlotte, was productive of the happiest effect. In the month of Decem- ber he marched, with his main army, to the Cheraw Hills, about seventy miles to the right of lord Cornwallis, despatching, at the same time, general Morgan, with four hundred continentals under colonel Howard, colonel Washington's corps of dragoons, and a few militia, amounting in all to six hundred, to take a position on the British left, distant from them about fifty miles. This judicious disposition, which formed a rallying point for the friends of independence, both in the east and west, and facilitated the procurement of provisions for the troops, excited his lordship's apprehensions for the safety of Ninety-six and Augusta, British posts, which he considered as menaced by the movements of Mor- gan; and gave rise to a train of movements which terminated in the celebrated battle of the Cowpens. Cornwallis, immediately on learning the movements of Greene, despatched col. Tarlton with a strong detachment, amounting, in horse and foot, to near a thousand, for the protection of Ninety-Six, with orders to bring general Morgan, if possible, to battle. — Greatly superior in numbers, he advanced on Morgan with a men- acing aspect, and compelled him, at first, to fall back rapidly. But this was not long continued. Glorying in action, and relying with great confidence in the spirit and firmness of his regular troops, Morgan halted at the Cowpens, and prepared to give his adversa- ry battle. The opportunity was eagerly seized by Tarlton. An engagement was the immediate consequence, and a complete vic- tory was obtained by the Americans. Upwards of five hundred of the British laid down their arms, and were made prisoners, and NATHANIEl GREENE. 97 a very considerable number M-ere killed. Eight hundred stands of arms, two field pieces, and thirty-five baggage wagons fell to the victors, who had only twelve killed and sixty wounded. The victory of the Cowpens, although achieved under the im- mediate command of Morgan, was the first stroke of general Greene's policy, in the south, and augured favorably of his fu- ture career. It led to one of the most arduous, ably-conducted, and memorable operations, that occurred in the course of the re- volutionary war — the retreat of Greene, and the pursuit of Corn- wallis, during the inclemencies of winter, a distance of 230 miles. Galled in his pride, and crippled in his schemes, by the over- tlirow of Tarlton, lord Cornwallis resolved, by a series of prompt and vigorous measures, to avenge the injury and retrieve the loss which the royal arms had sustained at the Cowpens. His medi- tated operations, for this purpose, were, to advance rapidly on Mor- gan, retake his prisoners, and destroy his force ; to maintain an in- termediate position, and prevent his union with general Greene ; or, in case of the junction of the two armies, to cut off their re- treat towards Virginia, and force them to action. But general Greene, no less vigilant and provident than him- self, informed, by express, of the defeat of Tarlton, instantly per- ceived the object of his lordship, and ordering his troops to pro- ceed under general Huger, to Salisbury, where he meditated a junction with Morgan's detachment, he himself, escorted by a few dragoons, set out for the head-quarters of that officer, and joined him shortly after. Cornwallis, having committed to the flames his heavy baggage, and reduced his army to the condition of light troops, dashed tc- Avards Morgan. And here commenced the retreat of general Greene, in the course of which he displayed such resources, and gained, in the end, such lasting renown. Sensible of the im- mense prize for which he was contending, he tasked his genius to the uttermost. On the issue of the struggle was staked, not mere- ly the lives of a few brave men; not alone the existence of the Mhole army; but the fate of the south and the integrity of the Union. But his genius was equal to the crisis. By the most mas- terly movements, Greene effected a junction of the two divisions of his little armv. 98 NATHAMEL GREENE. To his great mortification, lord Cornwallis now perceived that in two of his objects, the destruction of Morgan''s detachment, and the pi'eventioH of its union with the main division, he was com- pletely frustrated by the activity of Greene. But to cut off the retreat of the Americans into Virginia, after their union, and to compel them to action, was still, perhaps, practicable ; and to the achievement of this, he now directed his undivided energies. The genius of Greene, however, did not desert him on this try- ing occasion. Self-collected, and adapting his conduct to the na* lure of the crisis, his firmness grew with the increase of danger; and the measure of his greatness was, the extent of the difficulties he was called to encounter. Notwithstanding the vigilance and activity of his enemy, he brought his men in safety into Virginia; and to crown the whole, no loss was sustained by him, either in men^ munitions, artillery, or any thing that enters into the equip- ment of an army. Frustrated thus in all his purposes, lord Corn- wallis, although the pursuing party, must be acknowledged to have been completely vanquished. Victory is the successful issue of a struggle for superiority. Military leaders contend for different objects; to vanquish their enemies in open conflict; to attack and overthrow Ihem by stratagem and surprise ; to exhaust their re- "sources by delay of action; or to elude them in retreat, until, strengthened by reinforcements, they may be able to turn and meet them in the field. Of this last description was the victory of Greene, in his memorable retreat. In Virginia, general Greene received some reinforcemeets, and had the promise of more ; on which he returned again into North Carolina, where, on their arrival, he hoped to be able to act on the offensive. He encamped in the vicinity of lord Cornwallis's army. By a variety of the best concerted manoeuvres, he so judi- ciously supported the arrangement of his troops, by the secrecy and promptitude of his motions, that during three weeks, while the enemy remained near him, he prevented them from taking any advantage of their superiority, and even cut off all opportunity of their receiving succors from the royalists. About the beginning of March, he effected a junction with a continental regiment, and two considerable bodies of Virginia and Carolina militia. He then determined on attacking the British NATHAJVIEL GREENE. 99 commander, without loss of time, "being persuaded," as he de- clared in his subsequent despatches, "that, if he was successful, it would prove ruinous to the enemy ; and if otherwise, that it would be but a partial evil to him." On the 14th, he arrived at Guilford Court-house, the British then lying at twelve miles distance. His army consisted of about four thousand five hundred men, of whom near two-thirds were North Carolina and Virginia militia. The British were about two thousand four hundred, all regular troops, and the greater part inured to toil and service in their long expedition under lord Cornwallis, who, on the morning of the 15th, being apprised of general Greene's intentions, marched to meet him. The latter disposed his army in three lines : the militia of North Carolina were in front ; the second line was composed of those of Virginia; and the third, which was the flower of the army, was formed of continental troops, near fifteen hundred in number. They were flanked on both sides by cavalry and riflemen, and ■ were posted on a rising ground, a mile and a half from Guilford Court-house. The engagement commenced at half an hour after one o'clock, by a brisk cannonade ; after which the British advanced in three columns, and attacked the first line, composed of North Carolina militia. These, who probably had never been in action before, were panic-struck at the approach of the enemy, and many of them ran away without firing a gun, or being fiii'ed upon, and even before the British had come nearer than one hundred and forty yards to them. Part of them, however, fired; but they then fol- lowed the example of their comrades. Their officers made every possible effort to rally them; but the advantages of their position, nor any other consideration, could induce them to maintain their ground. This shameful conduct had a great effect upon the issue of the battle. The next line, however, behaved much better: they fought with great bravery, and were thrown into disorder; rallied, returned to the charge, and kept up a heavy fire for a long time ; but were at length bx'oken, and driven on the third line ; when the engagement became general, very severe, and very bloody. At length, superiority of discipline carried the day from superiority of numbers. The conflict endured an hour and a half, and was terminated by general Greene's ordering a retreat, when he per. 100 NATHANIEL GREENE. ceived that ttie enemy were on the point of encircling his troops. This was a hard-fought action, and ^the exertions of the two rival generals, both in preparing for this action, and during the course of it, were never surpassed. Forgetful of every thing but the for- tune of the day, they on several occasions mingled in the danger, like common soldiers. The loss sustained by the Americans, in this battle, amounted in killed and wounded to only about 400; while in its effect upon the enemy it was murderous ; nearly one third of them, including many officers of distinction, were killed and wounded. The result of this conflict, although technically a defeat, was virtually a victory on the part of general Greene. In its relation to his adversary, it placed him on higher ground than he had pre- viously occupied; enabling him immediately afterwards, instead of retreating, to become the pursuing party. This is evinced by his conduct soon after the action. Not doubting that lord Corn- wallis would follow him, he retreated slowly, and in good order, from the field of battle, until attaining, at the distance of a few miles, an advantageous position, he again drew up his forces, de- termined to renew the contest on the arrival of his enemy. But his lordship was in no condition to pursue. Having by past expe- rience, not to be forgotten, learnt that his adversary was an Ulysses in wisdom, he now perceived that he was an Ajax in strength. Alike expert in every mode of warfare, and not to be van- quished either by stratagem or force, he found him too formidable to be again approached. Influenced by these sentiments, lord Cornwallis, instead of pursuing his foe, or even maintaining his ground, commenced his retreat, leaving behind him about seventy of his wounded, whom he [recommended, in a letter written by himself, to the humanity and attention of the American chief. Had general Greene been in a situation to pursue his lordship as soon as he commenced his retreat, the destruction of that officer and his army would have been inevitable. Some spot on the plains of Carolina would have witnessed the surrender that was reserved for Virginia; and the hero of the south would have won the laurels which, shortly afterwards, decorated the brow of the hero of the nation. But Greene's military stores were so far ex- pended, that he could not pursue until he received a supply; and NATHAMEL GREENE. 101 the delay, thus occasioned, gave time to the British commander to effect his escape. Having received his supplies, Greene immediately pursued the enemy; but the advanced position of lord Cornwallis, and the im- practicable condition of the roads, frustrated every exertion that general Greene could make to compel the enemy to a second en- gagement. — Convinced of this, he halted to indulge his troops in that refreshment and repose which they so much needed. Were we to indicate the period in the life of general. Greene, most strongly marked by the operations, and irradiated by the genius of a great commander, we would without hesitation, select that which extends from the commencement of his retreat before Cornwallis, to the termination of his pursuit of him at this time. Perhaps a brighter era does not adorn the military career of any leader. It was in the course of it that he turned the current of adverse fortune consequent on the defeat of Gates, which he af- terwards directed with such certain aim and irresistible force, as to keep the enemy from his numerous strong holds in the southern department, and contributed so pre-eminently to the speedy and fe- licitous issue of the war. Having abandoned the pursuit of the British army, the general again found himself encircled with difficulties. Of the southern department of the union, over which Greene's command extended, the enemy was in force in three large and important sections. Georgia and South Carolina were entirely in their possession ; lord Cornwallis had taken post in the maritime district of North Carolina, and part of Virginia was occupied by a powerful detach- ment of British troops, under the command of general Philips. At a loss to determine in which of these points he should act in person, he consulted his officers, and found them greatly divided in opinion. He, however, resolved, in accordance to the views of colonel Lee, that, leaving his lordship, whose object evidently was the invasion of Virginia, to be met by the energies of that state, with such assistance as might arrive from the north, he should penetrate South Carolina, his army divided into two columns, at- tack and beat the enemy at their different posts, without permit- ting them to concentrate their forces, and thus recover that rich and important member of the union. 10 102 NATHANIEL GREENE. An officer who had distinguished himself in the late action, not satisfied with the proposed plan of operations, asked general Greene by way of remonstrance, — "What will you do, sir, in case lord Cornwallis throws himself in your rear, and cuts off your communication with Virginia?" — "I will punish his temerity," replied the general, with great pleasantness, "by ordering you to charge him as you did at the battle of Guilford. But never fear, sir; his lordship has too much good sense ever again to risque his safety so far from the seaboard. He has just escaped ruin, and he knows it, and I am greatly mistaken in his character as an of- ficer, if he has not the capacity to profit by experience. On the seventh of April, general Greene broke up his encamp- ment, and with the main column of his army, moving to the south, took position on Hobkirk's Hill, in front of Camden, the head-quar- ters of lord Rawdon, now the commander-in-chief of the British forces in the south. "The strength of the British position, which was covered on the south and east side by a river and creek; and to the westward and northward, by six redoubts ; rendered it impracticable to carry it by storm, with the small army Greene had, consisting of about seven hundred continentals, the militia having gone home. He, there- fore, encamped at about a mile from the town, in order to prevent supplies from being brought in, and to take advantage of such favorable circumstances as might occur. Lord Rawdon's situation was extremely delicate. Colonel Watson, whom he had sometime before detached, for the protec- tion of the eastern frontiers, and to whom he had, on intelligence of general Greene's intentions, sent orders to return to Camden, was so effectually watched by general Marion, that it was impos- sible for him to obey. His lordship's supplies were, moreover, very precarious ; and should general Greene's reinforcements ar- rive, he might be so closely invested, as to be at length obliged to surrender. In this dilemma, the best expedient that suggested it- self, was a bold attack ; for which purpose, he armed every person with him capable of carrying a niusket, not excepting his musici- ans and drummers. He sallied out on the 25th of April, and at- tacked general Greene in his camp. The defence was obstinate ; and for some part of the engagement the advantage appeared to NATHANIEL GREENE. 103 be in favor of America. Lieutenant-colonel Washington, who commanded the cavalry, had at one time not less than two hundred British prisoners. However, by the misconduct of one of the American regiments, victory was snatched from general Greene, who was compelled to retreat. He lost in the action about two hundred killed, wounded, and prisoners. Rawdon lost about two hundred and fifty -eight. There was a great similarity between the consequences of the affair at Guilford, and those of this action. In the former, lord Gornwallis was successful ; but was afterwards obliged to retreat two hundred miles from the scene of action, and for a time aban- doned the grand project of penetrating to the northward. In the latter, lord Rawdon had the honor of the field; but was shortly af- ter reduced to the necessity of abandoning his post, and leaving behind him a number of sick and wounded. The evacuation of Camden, with the vigilance of general Greene, and the several officers he employed, gave a new com- plexion to affairs in South Carolina, where the British ascendancy declined more rapidly than it had been established. The nume- rous forts, garrisoned by the enemy, fell, one after tlie other, into the hands of the Americans. Orangeburg, Motte, Watson, George- town, Grandy, and others. Fort Ninety-Six excepted, were surren- dered; and a very considerable number of prisoners of war, with military stores and artillery, were found in them. On the 22d May, general Greene sat down before Ninety-Six, with the main part of his little army. The siege was carried on for a considerable time with great spirit; and the place was defen- ded with equal bravery. At length, the works were so far redu- ced, that a surrender must have been made in a few days, when a reinforcement of three regiments, from Europe, arrived at Charles- ton, which enabled lord Rawdon to proceed to relieve this import- ant post. The superiority of the enemy's force reduced general Greene to the alternative of abandoning the siege altogether, or, previous to their arrival, of attempting the fort by storm. The latter was most agreeable to his enterprising spirit ; and an attack was made, on the morning of the 19th of June. He was repulsed with the loss of one hundred and fifty men. He raised the siege and retreated over the Saluda. 104 NATHANIEL GREENE. Dr. Ramsay, speaking of the state of affairs about this periodj says, "trul)', distressing was the situation of the American army; when in the grasp of victory, to be obliged to expose themselves to a hazardous assault, and afterwards to abandon a siege. When they were nearly masters of the whole country, to be compelled to retreat to its extremity ; and after subduing the greatest part of the force sent against them, to be under the necessity of encoun- tering still greater reinforcements, when their remote situation precluded them from the hope of receiving a single recruit. In this gloomy situation, there were not wanting persons who advised general Greene to leave the state, and retire with his remaining forces to Virginia. To arguments and suggestions of this kind he nobly replied, "I will recover the country, or die in the attempt." This distinguished officer, whose genius was most vigorous in those extremities, when feeble minds abandon themselves to des- pair, adopted the only resource now left him, of avoiding an en- gagement, until the British force should be divided." Greene, having, without loss, made good his passage over the ri- vers in front, lord Rawdon, perceiving the futility of any further attempt to overtake him, abandoned the pursuit, and retreating to Ninety-Six, prepared for its evacuation. Thus did the policy of Greene, which is moral strength, compel the surrender of that for- tress, although from a want of physical strength, he failed to cany it by the sword. No sooner had lord Rawdon commenced his retrograde move- ments towards Ninety-Six, than general Greene changed his front and moved in the same direction. On the breaking up of the garrison of Ninety-Six, and the return of lord Rawdon towards Charleston, which immediately ensued, the British army moved in two columns, at a considerable distance from each other. It was then that general Greene became, in reality, the pursuing party, exceedingly anxious to bring the enemy to battle. But this he was unable to accomplish until September. "September the 9th, general Greene, having assembled about two thousand men, proceeded to attack the British, who, under the command of colonel Stewart, were posted at Eutaw Springs. The American force was drawn up in two lines; the first com- posed of Carolina militia, was commanded by generals Marion NATHANIEL GREENE. 105 and Pickens, and colonel de Malmedy. The second, which con- sisted of continental troops, from North Carolina, Virginia, and Maryland, was commanded by general Sumpter, lieutenant-colo- nel Campbell, and colonel Williams; lieutenant-colonel Lee, with his legion, covered the right flank; and lieutenant-colonel Hen- derson, with the state troops, covered the left. A corps de reserve was formed of the cavalry, under lieutenant-colonel Washington, and the Delaware troops under captain Kirkwood. As the Amer- icans came forward to the attack, they fell in withsome advanced parties of the enemy, at about two or three miles a-head of the main body. These being closely pursued, were driven back, and the action soon became general. The militia were at length for- ced to give way, but were bravely supported by the second line. In the hottest part of the engagement, general Greene ordered the Maryland and Virginia continentals to charge with trailed arms. This decided the fate of the day. "Nothing," says Dr. Ramsay, "could surpass the intrepidity of both officers and men on this oc- casion. They rushed on in good order through a heavy cannon- ade and a shower of musquetry, with such unshaken resolution, that they bore down all before them." The British were broken, closely pursued, and upwards of 500 of them taken prisoners. They, however, made a fresh stand in a favorable position, in im- penetrable shrubs and a picquetted garden. Lieutenant-colonel Washington, after having made every effort to dislodge them, was wounded and taken prisoner. Four six pounders were brought forward to play upon them, but they fell into their hands ; and the endeavors to bring them from their station, being found impractica- ble, the Americans retired, leaving a very strong picquet on the field of battle. Their loss was about five hundred; that of the British upwards of eleven hundred. General Greene was honored by congress with a British standard, and a gold medal, emblemati- cal of the engagement, 'for his wise, decisive, and magnanimous conduct in the action at Eutaw Springs, in which, with a force infe- rior in number to that of the enemy ,he obtained a most signalvictory .' In the evening of the succeeding day colonel Stewart abandoned his post, and retreated towards Charleston, leaving behind up- wards of seventy of his wounded and a thousand stand of arms. He was pursued a considerable distance, but in vain, 10* 106 NATHANIEL GREENE. In Dr. Caldwell's memoirs of the life of general Greene, we have the following interesting story as connected with the severe conflict at Eutaw Springs : "Two young officers, bearing the same rank, met in personal combat. The American, perceiving that the Briton had a decided superiority in the use of the sabre, and being himselfof great ac- tivity and personal strength, almost gigantic, closed with his ad- versary and made him his prisoner. Gentlemanly, generous, and . high minded, this event, added to a personal resemblance which they were observed to bear to each other, produced between these two youthful warriors, an intimacy, which increased in a short time to a mutual attachment. Not long after the action, the Amer- ican officer returning home on furlough, to settle some private bu- siness, obtained permission for his friend to accompany him. — Travelling without attendants or guard, they were both armed and well mounted. Part of their route lay through a settlement highly disaffected to the American cause. When in the midst of this, having, in consequence of a shower of rain, thrown around them their cloaks, which concealed their uniforms, they were sud- denly encountered by a detachment of tories. The young Amer- ican, determined to die rather than become a prisoner, especially to men whom he held in abhorrence for disloyalty to their country, and the generous Briton resolved not to survive one by whom he had been distinguished and treated so kindly ; they both together, with great spirit and self possession, charged the royalists, having first made signals in their rear, as if directing others to follow tliem, and thus, without injury on either side, had the address and good fortune to put the party to flight. Arriving in safety at their place of destination, what was their surprise and augmented satisfaction, on finding, from some questions proposed by the Amer- ican officer's father, that they were first cousins ! With increas- ing delight, the young Briton passed several weeks in the family of his kinsman, where the writer of this narrative saw him daily, and often listened with the rapture of a child, to the checkered story of his military adventures. To heighten the occurrence and render it more romantic, the American officer had a sister, beautiful and accomplished, whose heart soon felt for the gallant stranger, more than the affection due to a cousin. The attach- NATHANIEL GREENE, 107 ment was mutual. But here the adventure assumes a tragical cast. The youthful foreigner, being exchanged, was summoned to re- turn to his regiment. The message was fatal to his peace. But military honor demanded the sacrifice ; and the lady, generous and high-minded as himself, would not be instrumental in dim- ming his laurels. The parting scene was a high-wrought picture of tenderness and sorrow. On taking leave, the parties mutually bound themselves, by a solemn promise, to remain single a cer- tain number of years, in the hope that an arrangement contem- plated might again bring them together. A few weeks afterwards, the lady expired under an attack of small pox. The fate of the officer we never learnt." Judge Johnson in his life of general Greene, says — "At the bat- tle of the Eutaw Springs, Greene says "thathundredsof my men were naked as they were born." Posterity will scarcely believe that the bare loins of many brave men who carried death into the enemy's ranks, at the Eutaw, were galled by their cartouch boxes, while a folded rag or a tuft of moss protected the shoulders from sustaining the same injury from the musket. Men of other times will enquire, by what magic was the army kept together? By what supernatural power was it made to fight ?" General Greene in his letters to the secretary at war, says — "We have three hundred men without arms, and more than one thousand so naked that they can be put on duty only in cases of a desperate nature." Again he says — "Our difficulties are so nu- merous, and our wants so pressing, that I have not a moment's re- lief from the most painful anxieties, I have more embarrass- ments than it is proper to disclose to the world. Let it suffice to say that this part of the United States has had a narrow escape, / have been seven months in the field loiihout taking off my clothes.'''' The battle of the Eutaw Springs being terminated, general Greene ordered the light troops under Lee and Marion, to march circuitously, and gain a position in the British rear. But the Brit- ish leader was so prompt in his measures, and so precipitate in his movements, that leaving his sick and wounded behind him, he made good his retreat. The only injury he received in his flight, was from Lee and Marion, who cut off part of his rear guard, galled his flanks, killed several, and made a number of prisoners.' 108 NATHANIEL GREENE. Such was the issue of the battle of Eutaw. Like that of every other fought by general Greene, it manifested in him judgment and sagacity of the highest order. Although he was repeatedly forced from the field, it may be truly said of that officer, that he never lost an action — the consequences, at least, being always in his favor. In no instance did he fail to reduce his enemy to a condition, relatively much worse than that in which he met him: his own condition of course being relatively improved. The battle of the Eutaw Springs, was the last essay in arms in which it was the fortune of general Greene to command, and was succeeded by the abandonment of the whole of South Carolina by the enemy, except Charleston. During the relaxation that fol- lowed, a dangerous plot was formed, by some mutinous persons of the army, to deliver up their brave general to the British. The plot was discovered and defeated; the ring-leader apprehended, tried and shot, and twelve of the most guilty of his associates de- serted to the enemy. To the honor of the American character, no native of the country was known to be concerned in this conspi- racy. Foreigners alone were its projectors and abettors. The surrender of lord Cornwallis, whose enterprising; spirit had been by the British ministry, expected to repair the losses and wipe away the disgrace which had been incurred through the in- activity and indolence of other generals, having convinced them of the impracticability of subjugating America, they discontinued offensive operations in every quarter. The happy period at length arrived, when by the virtue and bravery of her sons, aided by the bounty of heaven, America compelled her invaders to acknowl- edge her independence. Then her armies quitted the tented field and retired to cultivate the arts of peace and happiness. — General Greene immediately withdrew from the south, and returned to the bosom of his native state. The reception he there experienced, was cordial and joyous. The authorities welcomed him home with congratulatory addresses, and the chief men of the place waited upon him at his dwelling, eager to testify their gratitude for his services, their admiration of his talents and virtues, and the pride with which they recognized him as a native of Rhode Island. On the close of the war, the three southern states that h^ad been NATHANIEL GREENE. 109 the most essentially benefitted by his wisdom and valor, manifested, at once, their sense of justice and their gratitude to general Greene, by liberal donations. South Carolina presented him with an es- tate, valued at ten thousand pounds sterling; Georgia, with an es- tate, a few miles from the city of Savannah, worth five thousand pounds ; and North Carolina, with twenty -five thousand acres of land in the state of Tennessee. Having spent about two years in his native state in the adjust- ment of his private affairs, he sailed for Georgia, in October, 1785, and settled with his family, on his estate near Savannah. En- gaging here in agricultural pursuits, he employed himself closely in arrangements for planting, exhibiting the fairest promise to be- come as eminent in the pi-actice of the peaceful virtues, as he had already shown himself in the occupations of war. But it was the will of heaven, that in this new sphere of action, his course should be limited. The short period of seven months was destined to witness its commencement and its close. Walk- ing over his grounds, as was his custom, without his hat, on the afternoon of the 15th of June, 1786, the day being intensely hot, he was suddenly attacked with such a vertigo and prostration of strength, as to be unable to return to his house without assistance. The affection was what is denominated a "stroke of the sun." It was succeeded by fever, accompanied with stupor, delirium, and disordered stomach. All efforts to subdue it proving fruitless, it terminated fatally on the 19th of the month. Intelligence of the event being conveyed to Savannah, but one feeling pervaded the place : sorrow was universal, and the whole town instinctively assumed the aspect of mourning. All business was suspended ; the dwelling houses, stores and shops were closed, and the shipping in the harbor half-masted their colors. On the following day, the body of the deceased, being conveyed to the town at the request of the inhabitants, was interred in a private cemetery, with military honors ; the magistrates of the place, and other public officers, the society of the Cincinnati, and the citizens generally, joining in the procession. General Greene left behind him a wife and five children. On the 12th of August, of the year in which the general died, the congress of the United States unanimously resolved, "That a no NATHANIEL GREENE. monument be erected to the memory of the honorable Nathaniel Greene, at the seat of the federal government, with the following inscription : Sacred to the memory of the HON. NATHANIEL GREENE, who departed this life the 19th of June, 1786; . late major-general in the service of the United States, and commander of the army in the southern department. The United States, in congress assembled, in honor of his patriotism, valor, and ability, have erected this monument." To the disgrace of the nation, no monument has been erected; nor, for the want of a head-stone, can any one at present designate tlie spot, where the relics of the hero of the south lie interred! In estimating the military character of general Greene, facts authorise the inference, that he possessed a genius adapted by nature to military command. After resorting to arms, his attain- ment to rank was much more rapid than that of any other officer our country has produced; perhaps the most rapid that history records. These offices, so high in responsibility and honor, were conferred on him, not as matters of personal favor, or family in- Siuence, nor yet through the instrumentality of political intrigue : they were the rewards of pre-eminent merit,-and tokens of recog- nized fitness for the highest functions of military service. It is said, that on his very first appearance in the camp at Cambridge, from the ardor of his zeal, unremitted activity, and strict attention to every duty, he was pronounced, by soldiers of distinction, a man of real military genius, "His knowledge," said general Knox to a distinguished citizen of South Carolina, "is intuitive. He came to us the rawest and most untutored being I ever met with; but in less than twelve months, he was equal in military knowledge to any general officer in the army, and very superior to most of them." Even the ene- my he conquered, did homage to his pre-eminent talents for war. Tarlton, who had strong ground to know him, is reported to have pronounced him, on a public occasion, the most able and accom- plished commander that America had produced. When acting under the orders of others, he never failed to dis- charge to their satisfaction, the duties entrusted to him, however HORATIO GATES. Ill arduous. But it is the southern department of the union, that constitutes the theatre of his achievements and fame. It was there, where his views were unshackled, and his genius free, that by performing the part of a great captain, he erected for himself a monument of reputation, durable as history, lofty as victory and conquest could render it, and brightened by all that glory could bestow. In compliment to his brilliant successes, the chivalric de la Luzerne, the minister of France, who, as knight of Malta, must be considered as a competent judge of military merit, thus speaks of him: — "Other generals subdue their enemies by the means with which their country or their sovereign furnished them ; but Greene appears to subdue his enemies by his own means. He commenced his campaign without either an army, provisions, or military stores. He has asked for nothing since; and yet scarcely a post arrives from the south, that does not bring intelli- gence of some new advantage gained over his foe. He conquers by magic. History furnishes no parallel to this." HORATIO GATES, Major-General in the American Army. General Gates was. a native of England, and was born iij the year 1728. He was educated to the military profession and entered the British army at an early age, in the capacity of lieu- tenant, where he laid the foundation of his future military excel- lence. Without purchase, he obtained the rank of major. He was aid to general Monckton at the capture of Martinico, and after the peace of Aix-la-Chapelle, he was among the first troops which landed at Halifax under general Cornwallis. He was an officer in the army which accompanied the unfortunate Braddock in the expedition against Fort du Quesne, in the year 1755, and was shot through the body. When peace was concluded, he purchased an estate in Virginia, where he resided until the commencement of the American war, in 1775. Having evinced his zeal and attachment to the violated rights of his adopted country, and sustaining a high military repu- tation, he was appointed by congress adjutant-general, with the rank of brigadier; and he accompanied general Washington to the American camp at Cambridge, in July, 1775, where he was em- 112 HORATIO GATES. ployed for some time in a subordinate, but highly useful capacity. In June, 1776, Gates was appointed to the command of the army, of Canada, and on reaching Ticonderoga, he still claimed the command of it, though it was no longer in Canada, and was in the department of general Schuyler, a senior officer, who had ren- dered eminent services in that command. On representation to congress, it was declared not to be their intention to place Gates over Schuyler; and it was recommended to these officers, to en- deavor to co-operate harmoniously. General Schuyler was how- ever, shortly after, directed by congress to resume the command of the northern department, and general Gates withdrew himself from it; after which he repaired to head quarters, and joined the army under general Washington in Jersey. Owing to the prevalent dissatisfaction with the conduct of gen- eral Schuyler in the evacuation of Ticonderoga,* Gates was again directed to take command. He arrived about the 21st of August, and continued the exertions to restore the affairs of the depart- ment, which had been so much depressed by the losses conse- quent on the evacuation of Ticonderoga. It was fortunate for general Gates, that the retreat from Ticonderoga had been con- ducted under other auspices than his, and that he took the com- mand when the indefatigable, but unrequited labors of Schuyler, and the courage of Stark and his mountaineers, had already ensured the ultimate defeat of Burgoyne. Burgoyne, after crossing the Hudson, advanced along its side, and encamped on the height, about two miles from Gates' camp, which was three miles above Stillwater. This movement was the subject of much discussion. Some charged it on the impetu- osity of the general, and alleged that it was premature, before he was sure of aid .from the royal forces posted at New- York; but he pleaded the peremptory orders of his superiors. The rapid ad- vance of Bui'goyne, and especially his passage of the North river, added much to the impracticability of his future retreat, and made the ruin of his army in a great degree unavoidable. The Ameri- cans, elated with their successes at Bennington and Fort Schuyler, thought no more of retreating, but came out to meet the advancing British, and engaged them with firmness and resolution. * Vide biography of general Schuyler. HORATIO GATES. . 113 The attack began a little before mid-day, September 10th, be- tween the scouting parties of the two armies. The commanders of both sides supported and I'einforced their respective parties. The conflict, though severe, was only partial for an hour and a half; but after a short pause, it became general and continued for three hours without any intermission. A constant blaze of fire was kept up, and both armies seemed determined on death or victory. The Americans and British alternately drove, and were driven by each other. The British artillery fell into our possession at ever} charge, but we could neither turn the pieces upon the enemy nor bring them off, so sudden were the alternate advantages. It was a gallant conflict, in which death, by familiarity, lost his terrors ; and such was the ardor of the Americans, that, as general Wilkin- son states, the wounded men after having their wounds dressed, in many instances returned again into the battle. Men, and pax'ticu- larly ofiicers, dropped every moment, and on every side. Several of the AHuej'icans placed themselves on high trees, and as often as they coi^ld distinguish an ofRcer''s uniform,tookhimofr by delib- erately aiming at his person. Few actions have been charttctfer- ized by more obstinacy in attack or defence. The British rqpeat- edly tried their bayonets, but without their usual success in the use of that weapon. The British lost upwards of five hundred men, including their killed, wounded, and prisoners. The Americans, inclusive of the missing, lost three hundred and nineteen. Thirty-six out of fortj- eight British artillerists were killed or wounded. The 62d British regiment, which was five hundred strong, when it left Canada, was reduced to sixty men, and four or five officers. In this engage- ment, general Gates, assisted by generals Lincoln and Arnold, commanded the American army, and general Burgoyne was at the head of his army, and generals Phillips, Reidesel, and Frazer, with their respective commands, were actively engaged. This battle was fought by the general concert and zealous co- cperation of the corps engaged, and was sustained more by indi- vidual courage than military discipline. General Arnold, who af- terwards traitorously deserted his country, behaved with the most -undaunted courage, leading on the troops, and encouraging them :by his personal efforts and daring exposure. The gallant colonel 11 114 HORATIO GATES, Morgan obtained immortal honor on this day. Lieutenant-colonel Brooks, with the eighth Massachusetts regiment, remained in the field till about eleven o'clock, and was the last who retired. Ma- jor Hull commanded a detachment of three hundred men, who fought with such signal ardor that more than half of them were killed. The whole number of Americans engaged in this action v/as about two thousand five hundred; the remainder of the army, from its unfavorable situation, took little or no part in the action. Each army claimed the victory, and each believed himself to have beaten, with only part of its force, nearly the whole of the enemy. The advantage, however, was decidedly in favor of the Americans, In every quarter they had been the assailants, and after an encounter of several hours, they had not lost a single inch of ground. General Gates, whose numbers increased daily, remained on his old ground. His right, which extended to the ri\'er, had been rendered unassailable, and he used great industry to strengthen his left. Both armies retained their position until the 8th of October; Burgoj'ne, in the hope of being relieved by Sir Henry Clinton; and Gates, in the confidence of growing sti'onger every day, and of rendering the destruction of his enemy more certain. But re- ceiving no further intelligence from Sir Henry, the British gene- ral determined to make one more trial of strength with his adver- sary. The following account of the brilliant affair of the 7th of October, 1777, is givenin Thacher's Military Journal: — "I am fortunate enough to obtain from our officers, a particular account of the glorious event of the 7th instant. The advanced parties of the two armies came into contact about three o'clock, on Tuesday afternoon, and immediately displayed their hostile at- titude. The Americans soon approached the royal army, and each party in defiance awaited the deadly blow. The gallant colonel Morgan, at the head of his famous rifle corps, and major Dearborn, leading a detachment of infantry, commenced the ac- tion, and rushed courageously on the British grenadiers, comman- ded by major Ackland; and the furious attack was most firmly resisted. In all parts of the field the conflict became extremely arduous and obstinate ; an unconquerable spirit on each side dis- IIOEATIO GATES. 115 daining to yield the palm of victory. Death appeared to have lost his terrors ; breaches in the ranks were no sooner made than supplied by fresh combatants, awaiting a similar fate. At length the Americans pressed forward with renewed strength and ardor, and compelled the whole British line, commanded by Burgoyne himself, to yield to their deadly fire, and they retreated in disor- der. The German troops remained firmly posted at their lines ; these were now boldly assaulted by brigadier-general Lincoln and lieutenant-colonel Brooks, at the head of their respective com- mands, with such intrepidity, that the works were carried, and their bmve commander, lieutenant-colonel Breyman, was slain. The Germans were pursued to their encampment, which with all the equipage of the brigade, fell into our hands. Colonel Cilley, of general Poor's brigade, having acquitted himself honorably, was seen astride on a brass field-piece, exulting in the capture. Major Hull, of the Massachusetts line, was among those who so bravely stormed the enemy's entrenchment, and acted a conspicu- ous part. General Arnold in consequence of a serious misunder- standing with general Gates, was not vested with any command, by which he was exceedingly chagrined and irritated. He entered the field, however, and his conduct was marked with intemperate rashness ; flourishing his sword, and animating the troops, he struck an officer on the head without cause, and gave him a considerable wound. He exposed himself to every danger, and, with a small party of riflemen, rushed into the rear of the enemy, where he received a ball which fractured his leg, and his horse was killed under him. Nightfall put a stop to our brilliant career,, though the victory was most decisive ; and it is with pride and exultation that we recount the triumph of American bravery. Besides lieuten- ant-colonel Breyman slain, general Frazer, one of the most valu- able officers in the British service, was mortally wounded and sur- vived but a few hours. Frazer was the soul of the British army, and v\'as just changing the disposition of a part of the troops to re- pel a strong impression which the Americans had made, and were still making, on the British right, when Morgan called together two or three of his best marksmen, and pointing to Frazer, said, "Do you see that gallant officer? that is general Frazer — I respect and honor him ; but if is necessary he should die." This was enough. 116 HORATIO GATES. Frazer immediately received his mortal wound, and was carried off the field. Sir Francis Clark, aid-de-camp to general Burgoyne, was brought into our camp with a mortal wound, and major Ack- land, who commanded the British grenadiers, was wounded through both legs, and made prisoner. Several other officers, and about two hundred privates, were prisoners in our hands, with nine pieces of cannon, and a considerable supply of ammunition, which was much wanted for our troops. The loss on our side was supposed not to exceed thirty killed, and one hundred wounded, in obtaining this signal victory." The position of the British army, after the action of the 7th, was so dangerous, that an immediate and total change of position became necessary, and Burgoyne took immediate measures to re- gain his former camp at Saratoga. There he arrived with little molestation from his adversary. His provisions being now redu- ced to the supply of a few days, the transport of artillery and bag- gage towards Canada, being rendered impracticable by the judici- ous measures of his adversary; the British general resolved upon a rapid retreat, merely with what the soldiers could carry. On examination, however, it was found that they were deprived even of this resource, as the passes through which their route lay, were so strongly guarded, that nothing but artillery could clear them. In this desperate situation a parley took place, and on the 17th of October, the whole army surrendered to general Gates. The prize obtained, consisted of more than five thousand prisoners, forty-two pieces of brass ordnance, seven thousand muskets, clothing for sev- en thousand men, with a great quantity of tents, and other mili- tary stores. Soon after the convention was signed, the Americans marched into their lines, and were kept these until the royal army had de- posited their arms at the place appointed. The delicacy with which this business was conducted, reflected honor on the Amer- ican general. Nor did the politeness of Gates end here. Every circumstance was withheld that could constitute a triumph in the American army. The captive general was received by his con- queror with respect and kindness. A number of the principal of- ficers of both armies met at general Gates' quarters, and for a while HORATIO GATKS. 117 seemed to forget, in social and convivial pleasures, that they had been enemies. General Wilkinson gives the following account of the meeting between genera,l Burgoyne and general Gates: "General Gates, advised of Burgoyne's approach, met him at the head of his camp,Burgoyne in a rich royal uniform, and Gates in a plain blue frock. When they had approached nearly within sword's length, they reined up and halted. I then named the gen- tleman, and general Burgoyne, raising his hat most gracefully, said, "The fortune of war, general Gates, has made me your pris- oner ;" to which the conqueror, returning a courtly salute, prompt- 1}" replied, "I shall always be ready to bear testimony that it has not been through any fault of your excellency." The thanks of congress were voted to general Gates and his army ; and a medal of gold, in commemoration of this great event, was ordered to be struck, to be presented to him by the president, in the name of the United States. It was not long after that the wonderful discovery was supposed to be made, that the illustrious Washington was incompetent to the task of conducting the operations of the American army, and that general Gates, if elevated to the chief command, would speed- ily meliorate the condition of our affairs. There were those who imputed to general Gates himself a principal agency in the affair,, which, however, he promptly disavowed. But certain it is, that a private correspondence was maintained between him and the in- triguing general Conway, in which the measures pursued by gen- eral Washington are criticised and reprobated; and in one of Con- way's letters, he pointedly ascribes our want of success to a weak general and bad counsellors. General Gates, on finding that gen- eral Washington had been apprised of the correspondence, ad- dressed his excellency, requesting that he would disclose the name of his informant; and in violation of the rules of decorum,, he addressed the commander-in-chief on a subject of extreme deli- cacy, in an open letter transmitted to the president of congre.ss. General Washington, however, did not hesitate to disclose the names and circumstance? which brought the affair to light. Gen- eral Gates, then, with inexcusable disingenuousness, attempted to vindicate the conduct of Conway, and to deny that the letter con- 11* 118 HOBATIO GATES. tained the reprehensible expressions in question, but utterly, re- fused to produce the original letter. This subject, however, was so ably and candidly discussed by general Washington, as to cover his adversary with shame and humiliation. It was thought inex- cusable in Gates, that he neglected to communicate to the com- mander-in-chief an account of so impoi'tant an event as the cap- ture of the British army at Saratoga, but left his excellency to ob- tain the information by common report. Dr. Thacher, in his Military Journal, relates the following anec- dote : "Mr. T , an ensign in our regiment, has, for some time, discovered symptoms of mental derangement. Yesterday he in- triided himself at genera! Gates' head quarters, and after some amusing conversation, he put himself in the attitude of devotion, and prayed that God would pardon general Gates for endeavoring to supercede that godhke "man, Washington. The general ap- peared to be much disturbed, and directed Mr. Pierce, his aid-de- camp, to take him away." On the 13th of June, 1780, general Gates was appointed to the chief command of the southern army. Rich in fame from the fields of Saratoga, he hastened to execute the high and important trust; and the arrival of an officer so exalted in reputation, had an immediate and happy effect on the spirits of the soldiery and the hopes of the people. It was anticipated that he who had humbled Great Britain on the heights of the Hudson, and liberated New- York from a formidable invasion, would prove no less successful in the south, and become the deliverer of Carolina and Georgia from lawless rapine and military rule. But anticipations were vain, and the best Founded hopes were blighted ! In the first and only encounter which he had with lord Cornwallis, at Camden, August 15th, he suffered a total defeat, and was obliged to fly from the enemy for personal safety. Proudly calculating on the weight of his name, and too confi- dent in his own superiority, he slighted the counsel which he ought • to have respected, and hurrying impetuously into the field of bat- tle, his tide of popularity ebbed as fast at Camden as it had flowed at Saratoga.* *When the appointment of general Gates to the chief command of the sovthern army teas announced, general Lee remarked, that HORATIO GATES . 110 It would be great injustice, however, to attribute the misfortune altogether to the commander, under his peculiar circumstances. A large proportion of his force consisted of raw militia, who were panic-struck, and fled at the first fire ; their rout was absolute and irretrievable. In vain did Gates attempt to rally them. That their speed might be the greater, they threw away their arms and accoutrements, and dashed into the woods and swamps for safety. A rout more perfectly wild and disorderly, or marked with grea- ter consternation and dismay, was never witnessed. Honor, man- hood, country, home, every recollection sacred to the feelings of the soldier and the soul of the brave, was merged in an ignomini- ous love of life. But from the moment general Gates assumed the command in the south, his former judgment and fortune seemed to forsake him. He was anxious to come to action immediately, and to terminate the war by a few bold and energetic measures ; and two days af- ter his anival in camp, he began his march to meet the enemy, without properly estimating his force. The active spirits of the place being roused and encouraged by the presence of a considerable army, and daily flocking to the standard of their country, general Gates, by a delay of action, had much to gain in point of numbers. To the prospects of the ene- my, on the contrary, delay would have been ruinous. To them there was no alternative but immediate battle and victory, or im- mediate retreat. Such, however, was the nature of the country, and the distance and relative position of the two armies, that to compel the Americans to action was impossible. The imprudence of the American general in hazarding an engagement at this time, is further manifested by the fact, that in troops on whose firmness he could safely rely, he was greatly inferior to his foe, they a - mounting to sixteen hundred veteran and highly disciplined regu- lars, and he having less than a thousand continentals. General Gates having retreated to Salisbury, and thence to Hillsborough, he there succeeded in Collecting around him the fragments of an army. Being soon after re-inforced by several small bodies of regulars and militia, he again advanced towards "his northern laurels would soon be exchanged for southern wil- lows. 120 IWRATIO GATES, the south, and took post in Charlotte. Here he continued in com- mand until the 5th day of October, fifty days after his defeat at Camden, when congress passed a resolution requiring the com- mander-in-chief to order a court of inquiry on his conduct, as commander of the southern army, and to appoint some other offi- cer to that command. The inquiry resulted in his acquittal ; and it was the general opinion that he was not treated by Congress with that delicacy, or indeed gratitude, that was due to an officer of his acknowledged merit. He, however, received the order of his supercedure and suspension, and resigned the command to general Greene with becoming dignity, as is manifested, much to his credit^ in the following order: ^''Head-Quarters, Charlotte, 3(Z Decemher, 1780. "Parole, Springfield — countersign, Greene. "The honorable major-general Greene, who arrived yesterday afternoon in Charlotte, being appointed by his excellency general Washington, with the approbation of the honorable congress, to the command of the southern army, all orders will, for the future, issue from him, and all reports are to be made to him. "General Gates returns his sincere and grateful thanks to the southern army, for their perseverance,^ fortitude, and patient en- durance of all the hardships and sufferings they have undergone while under his command. He anxiously hopes their misfortunes will cease therewith, and that victory, and the glorious advantages of it, may be the future portion of the southern army." General Greene had always been, and continued to be, the firm advocate of the reputation of general Gates, particularly if he heard it assailed with asperity • and still believed and asserted, that if there was any mistake in the conduct of Gates, it was in hazarding an action at all against such superior force ; and when informed of his appointment to supercede him, declared his con- fidence in his military talents,, and his willingness "to serve under him." General Gates was re-instated in his military command in the main army, in 1782*, but the great scenes of war were now- passed, and he could only participate in the painful scene of a final separation. In the midst of his misfortune, general Gates was called to mourn the afflictive dispensation of Providence, in the death of HOEATIO GATES. 121 liis only son. Major Garden, in his excellent publication, has re- corded the following affecting anecdote, which he received from Dr. William Reed : "Having occasion to call on general Gates, relative to the busi- ness of the department under my immediate charge, I found him traversing the apartment which he occupied, under the influence of high excitement; his agitation was excessive — every feature of his countenance, every gesture betrayed it. Official despatches, informing him that he was superceded, and that the command of the southern army had been transferred to general Greene, had just been received and perused by him. His countenance, how- ever, betrayed no expression of irritation or resentment; it was sensibility alone that caused his emotion. An open letter, which he held in his hand, was often raised to his lips, and kissed with devotion, while the exclamation repeatedly escaped them — 'Great man! Noble, generous procedure!' When the tumult of his mind'' had subsided, and his thoughts found utterance, he, v.^ith strong expression of feeling, exclaimed, 'I have received this day a communication from the commander-in-chief, which has convey- ed more consolation to my bosom, more ineffable delight to my heart, than I had believed it possible for it ever to have felt again. With affectionate tenderness he sympathizes with me in my do- mestic misfortunes, and condoles with me on the loss I have sus- tained by the recent death of an only son; and then, with peculiar delicacy, lamenting my misfortune in battle, assures me that his coniidence in my zeal and capacity is so little impaired, that the command of the right wing of the army will be bestowed on me so soon as I can make it convenient to join him." After the peace, he retired to his farm in Berkley county, Vir- ginia, where he remained until the year 1790, when he went to reside in New-York, having first emancipated his slaves, and made a pecuniary provision for such as were not able to provide for themselves. Some of them would not leave him, but continued in his family. On his arrival at New- York, the freedom of the city was presented to him. In 1800 he accepted a seat in the legislature; hut he retained it no longer than he conceived his services might be useful to the cause of liberty, which he never abandoned. His political opinions did not separate him frcm many 122 RICHARD MONTGOMERV. respectable citizens, whose views differed widely from his own. — He had a handsome person, and was gentlemanly in his manners, remarkably courteous to all, and gave indisputable marks of a social, amiable, and benevolent disposition. A fev/ Aveeks before his death, he closed a letter to a friend in the following words : "I am very weak, and have evident signs of an approaching dis- solution. But I have lived long enough, since I have lived to see a mighty people animated with a spirit to be free, and gov- erned by transcendent abilities and honor." He died without posterity, at his abode near New-York, on the 10th day of April, 1806, aged seventy-eight years. RICHARD MONTGOMERY, Major-General in the Americats' Army. General Montgomery, whose premature death, under the- walls of Quebec, robbed the American army of one of its brightes^t ornaments, was born in the north of Ireland, in the year 1737. — He possessed an excellent genius, which was matured by a fine education. Entering the army of Great Britain, he successfully fought her battles with Wolfe at Quebec, in 1759, and on the very spot where he was doomed to fall, when fighting against her under the banners of freedom. After his return to England, he quitted his regiment in 1772, though in a fair way to preferment. He had imbibed a strong attachment to America, and viewing it as the rising seat of science and freedom, resolved upon trans- ferring to her his allegiance. After his arrival in this country, he purchased an estate in New-York, about one hundred miles from the city, and married a daughter of judge Livingston. He now considered himself as an American. Connected with one of the first families in New-York, and happy in the highest enjoyment of domestic felicity, he was led by principle to quit the occupations of rural life; and animated with an ardent zeal for the cause of human nature, the liberties of mankind, and the glory of America, both his active life, and his heroic death, verified his last expression to his amiable lady — " You shall never blush for your Montgomery,'''' At the commencement of the struggle with Great Britain, the command of the continental forces in the northern department RICHARD MONTGOMERY. 123 was entrusted to him and general Schuyler, in the fall of 1775, 'AVhile the British_ army was cooped up in Boston, without the power of much annoyance to the surrounding country, the con- gress conceived the design of sending a force into Canada, for the purpose of putting a stop to the preparations which it was known that general Carleton, the governor of that province, was making, for aiding his majesty's forces on this side of the lakes. For this purpose, generals Schuyler and Montgomery, with two regiments of New-York militia, and a body of New-England men, amounting in the whole to about two thousand men, were ordered to move towards Ticonderoga, which had remained in possession of the Americans since the expedition of colonels Arnold and Al- len. General Schuyler being detained at Albany, Montgomery proceeded alone to Crown Point, where he received intelligence that several armed vessels, which lay at the fort of St. John's, were preparing to enter the lake Champlain, for the purpose of imped- ing the passage of his troops. This determined him, though not more than half his troops liad arrived, to cross to the Isle aux Noix, at the entrance of the Sorel, and thus blockade the vessels + which lay in that river. He had scarcely succeeded in this de- sign, before he was joined by general Schuyler; and it Avas deter- mined, after publishing a declaration to the Canadians, setting forth their friendly intentions towards them, to proceed immedi- ately against the fort of St. John's. With this view they proceeded with their batteaux for a few miles down the Sorel, and landed on a swampy ground, through which, with great difficulty, they marched within two miles of the fort. Here they were suddenly attacked by a party of Indians, which, after a smart skirmish, they dispersed with a trifling loss, and continued their march ; but upon coming within view of the fort, and seeing its strength, general Schuyler, whose force did not amount to a thousand men, thought it prudent to return to the Isle aux Noix, without attempting its reduction. The general being then obliged to return to Albany, to settle a treaty with the Indians, left the command solely to Montgomery ; and never was there a general better qualified for the duties which now devolved upon him. "It was absolutely necessary, before he could go against Mon- treal, that the fort of St. John's should be reduced. It was well 124 HORATIO GATES. provided, and strongly garrisoned. The supply of ammunition with which general Montgomery was provided, was much too small to render an immediate siege of St. John's prudent; and he would probably have been compelled to remain inactive until too late in the season to effect his object, but for the information of some Canadians, that the little fortress of Chamblee, which was but feebly garrisoned, contained a good store of that article. He accordingly made himself master of that place, and, to his great satisfaction, found one hundred and twenty barrels of powder, besides a large quantity of other military stores and provisions. — The expedition against this fortress was conducted by majors Brown and Livingston. "General Montgomery being thus enabled to carry on the siege of St. John's, proceeded to erect his works, and to prepare for a general assault. General Carleton, in the mean time, hearing the situation of St. John's, prepared to i-aise a force for its relief He had posted colonel M'Lean, with a regiment of Scotch emi- o-rants, at the mouth of the Sorel ; and having raised about a thou- sand men at Montreal, he attempted to cross at Longueil, for the purpose of forming a junction, and marching for the relief of St. John's. But colonel Ward, Avho was stationed at Longueil, with three hundred Green Mountain boys and a small piece of artil- lery, kept so warm a fire upon their boats, that the general was glad to return to Montreal. "When the news of this repulse reached Montgomery, he sent a flag to major Preston, who commanded the besieged fortress, summoniag him to surrender, as all hope of relief was cut off by Carleton's repulse, and a farther resistance could only lead to a useless waste of lives. Major Preston solicited a few days to consider the proposal, being still impressed with the hope that general Carleton might be able to come to his assistance ; but upon his request being refused, he accepted the honorable terms of capitulation which general Montgomery offered to him, and surrendered his garrison prisoners of war. The British officers spoke highly of the polite regard and attention shown to them by Montgomery, who permitted them to wear their swords, and to take off all their baggage and effects. The fort surrendered on the 3d of November." — Allen's Revolution. RICHARD MONTGOMERV. 125 On the 12th, he took Montreal, the British general Carleton, havinff abandoned the town to its fate, and made his escape down the river in the night, in a small canoe with mufHed oars. Mont- jromery thus obtained possession of the naval force of the river, consisting of elevftn armed vessels. "Many circumstances combined to render the situation of gen- eral Montgomery, though a conqueror, extremely unpleasant. The season was far advanced, and the severities of the climate in- duced many of his men to desert — the time for which many others were enlisted was abodtto expire, and few were willing to encoun- ter the hardships of a long march through the deep snows of De- cember. Nothing but personal attachment to the noble character of the commander, could have kept a single regiment together. After new clothing all his men at Montreal, and rendering them in other respects as comfortable as the magazines there would ad- mit of, and having taken the necessary measures to ensure a sup- ply of provisions on the march, the general pushed on through every difficulty, and joined Arnold, who had marched through the wilderness, and arrived before Quebec, a short time previous, on the 1st of December. His appearance was a source of great joy to the colonel's troops, as he had not forgotten to bring with him a store of such supplies as he knew them to want. Montgomery lost no time after his arrival in preparing for an immediate attack. The whole of his force did not amount to more than the troops of the garrison ■ but he attempted, by assuming an appearance of greater strength, to weaken the confidence of the latter, and thereby accomplish his object without bloodshed. — For this purpose, on the 5th of December, he addressed a letter to the governor, in which he urged him, by every argument calculated to produce an effect upon his humanity or his fears, to spare his garrison the dreadful consequences of a storm, by an immediate surrender. General Carleton, however, was too old a soldier to be deceived by appearances — he knew the difficulties under which Montgomery labored, and was convinced that, if his garrison could hold out for a few days, the climate would compel the provincials to abandon the siege. Montgomery's messenger was fired at, and all communication forbidden. In this situation, fllontgomery com- menced a bombardment from five small mortars, which he kept 12 126 RICHARD MONTGOMERY, up for several days, with the hope of throwing the garrison into confusion. But it seemed to produce no effect. A battery of six guns was next opened upon them, at a distance of seven hundred yards, with no better success. The garrison remained insensible ,to any impressions of alarm. "General Montgomery now found himself under circumstances much more delicate and embarrassing, than those which had six- teen years before, environed the hero Wolfe, at the same spot. — Several feet of snow covered the ground — his troops had under- gone every hardship that it was possible to suffer, and it seemed now almost impossible for human nature to endure more. He had ari-ived before Quebec a conqueror, his fame had reached his coun- trymen and his commander at Cambridge, and they would expect a continuance of success. He remembered, moreover, his parting words to the beloved partner of his bosom — 'You shall never blush for your Montgomery,' he had said when he gave her the last embrace. While these feelings and recollections were alter- nately elevating and depressing his noble spirit, he made a des- perate resolution to attempt the enemy's works by escalade. And such was the skill with which his plan had been formed, that no doubt can remain that he would ultimately have succeeded, had not his whole scheme been communicated to the garrison, by some scoundrels who deserted him at this critical moment. "Montgomery soon perceived that the garrison were prepared; and it became necessary to change his whole plan of operations. Having disposed his army into four divisions, two of which he in- tended should make feigned attacks, while Arnold and himself should be engaged in real attacks upon two opposite sides, before daylight, on the 31st of December, in a thick fall of snow, Mont- gomery advanced at the head of the New-Yorkers. Here again his fate resembled Wolfe's, for before he could reach the place from whence he intended to commence the attack, the signal had been given through mistake, and the whole garrison were alarmed. It was too late now to make another change in the plan of attack, and Montgomery pushed on — ^lie was compelled to advance through a narrow path between a precipice and overhanging rocks — he had seized and passed the first barrier, and was boldly advancing towards the second, with a few of his bravest companions, when a RICHARD MONTGOMERY. 127 discharge of grape shot from the cannon that were placed there, stopped the progress of this brave and excellent officer, and des- troyed the hopes of the enterprise. Upon the fall of the general, the officer upcm whom the command of his party devolved, retired with- out making any attempt to pursue the advantages already gained. Some of his bravest officers had shared the glorious destiny of Montgomery, or Quebec must have fallen to the united efforts of this party and that under Arnold." — Audi's Revolution. In accordance with the concerted plan, "Arnold advanced with the utmost intrepidity against the battery in the other quarter of the city. The alarm was immediately given, and the fire on his flank commenced^ which, however, did not prove very destructive. As he approached the barrier, he received a musket ball in his leg, which shattered the bone, and was carried off the field to the hospital. Morgan rushed forward to the battery, at the head of his company, and received from one of the pieces, almost at its mouth, a discharge of grape shot, which killed only one man. A few rifles were immediately fired into the embrazures, by which a British soldier was wounded in the head, and the barricade being instantly mounted, with the aid of ladders brought by his men on their shoulders, the battery was deeerted without discharging the other gun. The captain of the guard, with the greater number of his men, fell into the hands of the Americans, and the others made their escape. "Morgan formed the troops, consisting of his own company and a few bold individuals who had pressed forward from other parts of the division, in the streets within the barrier, and took into cus- tody several English and Canadian burghers ; but his situation soon became extremely critical. He was not followed by the main body of the division ; and was, himself, totally ignorant of the situation of the town. It was yet dark; and he had not the slight- est knowledge of the course to be pursued, or of the defences to be encountered. Thus circumstanced, it was thought unadvisa- ble to advance further. "As the glow, produced by immense exertion, gave way to the cold, which was so intense that they were covered with icicles, and as the ardor, excited by action, subsided when they were no longer engaged, even this daring party became less animated. 128 RICHARD MONTGOMERY, Whilst waiting in total ignorance of the fate of the residue of the division, the darkness of night, the fury of the storm, the scat- tering fire still kept up by the enemy, principally in their rear, the paucity of their numbers, and the uncertainty con- cerning their future operations, visibly affected them. It was af- ter some deliberation, determined to maintain their ground, while IMorgan should return to the barrier they had passed, for the pur- pose of bringing up the troops, who were supposed to be still on the other side of it. "They were soon joined by lieutenant-colo- nel Greene and majors Bigelow and Meigs, with several frag- ments of companies, so as to constitute, altogether, about two hun- dred men. "As the light of the day began to appear, this small but gallant party was again formed, with Morgan's company in front ; and with one voice, they loudly called on him to lead them against the second barrier, which was now known to be less than forty paces from them, though concealed by an angle of the street from their immediate view. Seizing the few ladders brought with them, they again rushed on to the charge, and on turning the angle, were hailed by captain or lieutenant Anderson, who was just issuing with a body of troops through the gates of the barricade, for the purpose of attacking the Americans, whom he had expected to find dispersed, and probably plundering the town. Morgan, who was in the front, answered his challenge by a ball through his head, and he fell : he was drawn within the barricade, and the gate closed upon the assailants, who received at the same instant a tremendous fire from the windows overlooking the barrier, and from the port-holes through it. Ladders were immediately placed against the barricade, and for some time a fierce contest was main- tained, which on the part of the assailants, was also a bloody one. A few of the bolder among the front files, ascended the ladders under this deadly fire ; and saw on the other side of the barricade, double ranks of roldiers, who with their muskets planted on the ground, presented hedges of bayonets to receive them, if they should attempt to leap to the earth. Exposed thus, in a narrow street, to a most galling fire, many of the assailants threWthem- selves into the stone houses on each side, which afforded them a shelter from the storm and from the enemy, and through the win- RICMARD MOJJTGfOMERY. 129 flows of which they kept up an irregular and not very effective fire. One circumstance which greatly contributed to the irreso- lution that now displayed itself, was, that, scarcely more than one in ten of their fire arms could be used. Notwithstanding the pre- caution of tying handkerchiefs around the locks, the violence of the storm had totally unfitted them for service. Morgan soon found himself at the barrier, with only a few ofiicers and a small number of soldiers ; yet he could not prevail on himself to relinquish the enterprise. With a voice louder than the tempest, he called on those who were sheltered in the houses, to come forth and scale the barrier; but he called in vain; neither exhortations nor reproaches could draw them in sufficient numbers to the point of attack. Be- ing at length compelled to relinquish all hope of success, he or- dered the few brave men who still adhered to him, to save them- selves in the houses, while he, accompanied only by lieutenant Heth, returned towards the first barrier, in order to concert with the field officers some plan for drawing off the troops. He soon met majors Bigelow and Meigs, to whom he proposed an immedi- ate retreat by the same route along which they had marched to the attack. This proposition was assented to, and lieutenant Heth was despatched to draw the troops from their present situation." — MarshalVs Washington. "In Montgomery, the Americans lost one of the bravest and most accomplished generals that ever led an army to the field. — ■ But he was not more illustrious for his skill and courage as an officer, than he was estimable for his private virtues. He pos- sessed a mind adorned with every accomplishment, and a person in which every, manly grace shone with conspicuous lustre. He was "yl combination, and a form indeed, Where every God did seem to set his seal, To give the world assurance of a man.'''' "General Montgomery had borne the commission of a colonel in the war of 1759, and was fighting by the side of Wolfe when that Spartan hero fell. His bravery and his worth were Ihen ac- knowledged by the British army, and they were proud to regard him as a friend and brother; but notwithstanding the many profes- sions of attachment and esteem for his character, his body would 12* 130 RICHARD MONTGOMERY, have been thrown "with the heap of slain, uncoffined and unmarked, into the same indiscriminate pit, but for the lieutenant-governor; who, urged by the solicitations of the lady whom he afterward married, reluctantly procured a coffin of the roughest sort, and thus, apart from the rest, buried his former friend and companion. From this spot, after mouldering in the grave for more than forty- two years, the bones of this galliant soldier were removed by his fellow citizens of New-York, and deposited in a tomb more worthy of him. "The resemblance in the character, conduct, and destiny of Wolfe and Montgomery, is too striking to be passed over without a remark. Montgomery had been, in some measure, the pupil of Wolfe ; under his guidance he had learned the first rudiments of war; and in his career of glory he saw an example worthy of imitation.. We have seen the difficulties under which Wolfe had to struggle, and we have seen the noble daring which led him, perhaps against the suggestions of prudence, to attempt to sur- mount them. He lived, as he expressed himself, bi it to fight Mont- calm on equal ground — this accomplished, he had consummated the only object of his existence, and died '■'■content P Wolfe was fighting for his king, under the orders of his ministry; and here lies the striking difference in the lives and fortunes of these he- rocs. Montgomery entered on the expedition with the name of rebel. He ventured his fame, his character, his life, in the ser- vice of revolted colonies — but it was to secure to these colonies the enjoyment of liberty under the riglrts of the constitution. — For this he sacrificed the tender endearments of conjugal felicity, and at the head of an undisciplined body of men, placed himself in opposition to a veteran general. The skill which he displayed was equal to the fortitude which such an enterprise demanded. — He had not only to contend against a formidable enemy, but a- gainstthe severities of a climate to which none of his men were accustomed. His having in one night constructed a battery of ice, will at once show his military skill and industry, and the in- tense coldness of the climate. With a discontented, starving, and mutinous army, he pushed boldly forward in search of that victo- ry which had cheered the parting moments of Wolfe. But destiny had marked a different course for him ; death arrested his steps too RICHARD MONTGOMERV. 131 soon. He was cut offin the onset, and none was left to follow the plan which he had marked out — his last sigh was embittered by anticipated defeat. "Victory brings its own lustre ; and when she entwines her gar- lands around the head of an insensate corpse, they seem from that single circumstance to display a lovelier verdure: death gives a more touching interest, a deeper pathos to the fate of the hero — the million will admire, and posterity will always applaud. But how does the tragedy deepen, when the hero expires on the field of battle, surrounded, not by the beams of victory, but by the dark- ness of defeat. He sees nothinij to cheer his parting moments, nothing in anticipation but public obloquy, and that reproach which seems inseparable from want of success. This reproach, and this • obloquy, did pursue the shade of Montgomery ; his heroism was stigmatized with the character of rashness — of insanity. But let it be remembered, that nothing but the difference of a few hours in the term of his life, prevented that victory which consecrated the same rashness in Wolfe, and impressed upon it the character of 2'lory. '•The turn of a die decides the fate of an army ; and the same thing is desperation in one, or the highest effort of military skill in another, according as defeat or success shall attend the enter- prise. Posterity, that looks at the records of history unbiassed, will observe no difference in the merits of Wolfe and Montgome- ry. They were both heroes — both entitled to the chaplet of im- mortal fame." — American Revolution. To express the h igh sense entertained by his country of his ser- vices, congress directed a monument of white marble to be erected, with the following inscription, which was placed in front of St. Paul's church, New-York : — "This Monument was erected by or- der of Congress, 25th January, 1776, to transmit to posterity, a grateful remembrance of the patriotism, conduct, enterprise, and perseverance of Major-Gteneral Richard Mo:vtgom;ery, who, a:f- ter a series of successes, amidst the most discouraging difficulties, fell in the attack on Quebec, 31st December, 1775 ; aged 39 years." The remains of general Montgomery, after resting 42 years at Quebec, by a resolve of the state of New-York, were brought to i32 ISRAEL PUTNAM. the city of New-York, on the 8th of July, 1818, and depositee^ with ample form, and grateful ceremonies, near the aforesaid mon- ument in St. Paul's church. ISRAEL PUTNAM, MaJOR-GeNERAL in the AMERICAN ArMV. Israel Putnam, who, through a regular gradation of promotion, became the senior major-general in the army of the United States, and next in rank to general Washington, was born at Salem, Mas- sachusetts, on the 7th day of January, 1718. Courage, enter- prise, activity, and perseverance, were the first characteristics of his mind; and his disposition was as frank and generous, as his mind was fearless and independent. Although he had too much suavity in his nature to commence a quarrel, he had too much sensibility not to feel, and too much honor not to resent an intend- ed insult. The first time he went to Boston, he was insulted for his rusticity by a boy of twice his size and age. After bearing sarcasms until his patience was worn out, he challenged, engaged, and vanquished his unmannerly antagonist, to the great diversion of a crowd of spectators. While a stripling, his ambition was to perform the labor of a man, and to excel in athletic diversions. In the year 1739, he removed from Salem to Pomfret, an inland fertile town in Connecticut. Having here purchased a consider- able tract of land, he applied himself successfully to agriculture. "Our farmer, sufficiently occupied in building a house and barn, felling woods; making fences, sowing grain, planting orchards, and taking care of his stock, had to encounter in turn, the calam- ities occasioned by drought in summer, blight in harvest, loss of cattle in winter, and the desolation of his sheepfold by wolves. In one night he had seventy fine sheep and goats killed, besides many lambs and kids wounded. This havoc was committed by a she- wolf, which, with her annual whelps, had for several years infest- ed the vicinity. This wolf at length became such an intolerable niiisance, that Mr. Putnam entered int© a combination with five of his neighbors, to hunt alternately until they could destroy her. Two, by rotation, were to be constantly in pursuit. It was known, that having lost the toes from one foot by a steel trap, she made one track shorter than the other, By this vestige the pursuers ISRAEL PUTNAM. 133 recognized, in a light snow, the route of this pernicious animal. Having followed her to Connecticut river, and found she had turned in a direct course towards Pomfret, they immediately re- turned ; and by ten o'clock the next morning, the blood-hounds had driven her into a den, about three miles distant from the house of Mr. Putnam. The people soon collected with dogs, guns, straw, fire, and sulphur, to attack the common enemy. With this appa- ratus, several unsuccessful efforts were made to force her from the den. The hounds came back badly wounded, and refused to return ,• the smoke of blazing straw had no effect ; nor did the fumes of burnt brimstone, with which the cavern was filled, compel her to quit the retirement. Wearied with such fruitless attempts, which had brought the time to ten o'clock at night, Mr. Putnam tried once more to make his dog enter, but in vain. He proposed to his negro man to go down into the cavern and shoot the wolf: the negro declined the hazardous service. Then it was that the master, angry at the disappointment, and declaring that he was ashamed to have a coward in his family, resolved himself to de- stroy the ferocious beast, lest she should escape through some un- known fissure of the rock. His neighbors strongly remonstrated against the perilous enterprise; but he, knowing that wild animals jyere intimidated by fire, and having provided several strips of birch bark, the only combustible which he could obtain, that would afford light in this deep and darksome cave, prepared for his de- scent. Having divested himself of his coat and waistcoat, and having a long rope fastened round his legs, by which he might be pulled back at a concerted signal, he entered head foremost, with the blazing torch in his hand. The aperture of the den, on the east side of a very high ledge of rocks, is about two feet square; from thence it descends obliquely fifteen feet, then running hori- zontally about ten more, it ascends gradually sixteen feet towards its termination. The sides of this subterraneous cavity are com- posed of smooth and solid rocks, which seem to have been divided from each other by some former earthquake. The top and bottom are also of stone, and the entrance in winter, being covered with ice, is exceedingly slippery. It is in no place high enough for a man to raise himself upright, nor in any part more than three feet in width. Having groped his passage to the horizontal part of 134 ISRAEL PUTNAM. the den, the most terrifying darkness appeared in front of the dim circle of light afforded by his torch. It was silent as the house of death. None but monsters of the desert, had ever before ex- plored this mansion of horror.^ He, cautiously proceeding on- wards, came to the ascent, which he slowly mounted on his hands and knees, until he discovered the glaring eyeballs of the wolf, who was sitting at the extremity of the cavern. Startled at the sight of fire, she gnashed her teeth, and gave a sullen growl. As soon as he had made the necessary discovery, he kicked the rope as a signal for pulling him out. The people at the mouth of the den, who had listened with painful anxiety, hearing the growling of the wolf, and supposing their friend to be in the most imminent danger, drew him forth with such celerity, that his shirt v.as stripped ever his head, and his skin severely lacerated. After he had adjusted his clothes, and loaded his gun with nine buck- shot, holding a torch in one hand, and the musket in the other, he descended the second time. When he drew nearer than before^ the wolf, assuming a still more fierce and terrible appearance, howling, rolling her eyes, snapping her teeth, and dropping her head between her legs, was evidently in the attitude, and on the point of springing at him. At this critical instant, he levelled and fired at her head. Stunned with the shock, and sufix>cated wiih the smoke, he immediately found himself drawn out of the cave. But having refreshed himself, and permitted the smoke to dissi- pate, he went down the third time. Once more he came within sight of the wolf, who appearing very passive, he applied the torch to her nose, and perceiving her dead, he took hold of her ears, and then liicking the rope, (still tied round his legs,) the people above, with no small exultation, drew them both out together."-l/i/hould be remitted. The gallant commandant, not less astonished than charmed at the boldness of his conduct, forbade any more effects to be carried out of the fort, animated the men to redoubled diligence, and exclaimed, "If we must be blown up, we will go all together." At last, when the barracks were seen to be tumbling, Putnam descended, placed himself at the interval, and continued from an incessant rotation of replenished buckets, to pour water upon the magazine. The outside planks were already consumed by the proximity of the fire, and as only one thickness of timber intervened, the trepidation now became general and extreme. — Putnam, still undaunted, covered with a cloud of cinders, and scorched with the intensity of the heat, maintained his position un- til the fire subsided, and the danger was wholly over. He had contended for one hour and a half with that terrible element. His legs, his thighs, his arms, and his face were blistered ; and when 13 138 ISRAEL PUTNAM. he pulled off his second pair of mittens, the skin from his hands and fingers followed them. It was a month before he recovered. The commandant, to whom his merits had before endeared him, could not stifle the emotions of gratitude due to the man who had been so instrumental in preserving the magazine, the fort, and the garrison. In the month of August, five hundred men were employed, un- der the orders of majors Rogers and Putnam, to watch the motions of the enemy near Ticonderoga. At South-Bay they separated the party into two equal divisions, and Rogers took a position on Wood creek, twelve miles distant from Putnam. Upon being, sometime afterwards, discovered, they formed a re- union, and concerted measures for returning to Fort Edward. — Their march through the woods was in three divisions by files; the right commanded by Rogers, the left by Putnam, and the cen- tre by captain D'EIL At the moment of moving, the famous French partizan, Molang, who had been sent with five hundred men to intercept our party, was not more than one mile and a half distant from them. Major Putnam was just emerging from the thicket into the common forest, when the enemy rose, and with discordant yells and whoops, commenced an attack upon the right of his division. Surprised, but undismayed, Putnam halted, re- turned the fire, and passed the word for the other divisions to ad- vance for his support. D'Ell came. The action, though widely scattered, and principally fought between man and man, soon grew general and intensely warm. Major Putnam, perceiving it would be impracticable to cross the -creek in his rear, determined to maintain his ground. Inspired by his example, the officers and menbehaved with great bravery ; sometimes they fought aggregately in open view, and sometimes individually under cover; taking aim from behind the bodies of trees, and acting in a manner independent of each other. For himself, having discharged his fuzee several times, at length it missed fire, while the muzzle was pressed against the breast of a large and well proportioned savage. This icarrior, availing hira- .self of the indefensible attitude of his adversary, with a tremend- .ous war-whoop, sprung forward, with his lifted hatchet, and com- ISRAEL PUTNAM. 139 peliedhim to surrender; and having disarmed and bound him fast to a tree, returned to the battle. The intrepid captains D'EU and Harman, who now commanded, were forced to give ground for a little distance : the savages, con- ceiving this to be the certain harbinger of victory, rushed impetu- ously on, with dreadful and redoubled cries. But our two parti- sans, collecting a handful of brave men, gave the pursuers so warm a reception as to oblige them, in turn, to retreat a little be- yond the spot at which the action had commenced. Here they made a stand. This change of ground occasioned the tree to which Putnam was tied to be directly betw'een the fire of the two parties. Human imagination can hardly figure to itself a more deplorable situation. The balls flew incessantly from either side, many struck the tree, while some passed through the sleeves and skirts of his coat. In this state of jeopardy, unable to move his body, to stir his limbs, or even to incline his head, he remained more than an hour. So equally balanced, and so obstinate was the fight! At one moment, while the battle swerved in favor of the enemy, a young savage chose an odd way of discovering his humor. He found Putnam bound. He might have despatched him at a blow. But he loved better to excite the terrors of the prisoner, by hurling a tomahawk at his head, or rather it should seem his object was to see how near he could throw it without touching him — the weapon struck in the tree a number of times at a hairs breadth distance from the mark. When the Indian had finished his amusement, a French bas-ofiicer (a much more invet- erate savage by nature, though descended from so humane and polished a nation) perceiving Putnam, came up to him, and, level- ling a fuzee within a foot of his breast, attempted to discharge it — it missed fire. Ineffectually did the intended victim solicit the treatment due to his situation, by repeating that he was a prisoner of war. The degenerate Frenchman did not understand the lan- guage of honor or of nature : deaf to their voice, and dead to sen- sibility, he violently, and repeatedly, pushed the muzzle of his gun against Putnam's ribs, and finally gave him a cruel blow on the jaw with the butt-end of his piece. After this dastardly deed he left him. At length the active intrepidity of D'EU and Harman, seconded 140 ISRAEL PUTNAM. by the persevering valor of their followers, prevailed. They drove from the field the enemy, who left about ninety dead behind them. As they were retiring, Putnam was untied by the Indian who had made him prisoner, and whom he afterwards called mas- • ter. Having been conducted for some distance from the place of action, he was stripped of his coat, vest, stockings, and shoes; loaded with as many of the packs of the wounded as could be piled upon him ; strongly pinioned, and his wrists tied as closely together as they could be pulled with a cord. After he had marched, through no pleasant paths, in this painful manner, for many a tedious mile, the party, (who were excessively fatigued) halted to breathe. His hands were now immoderately swelled from the tightness of the ligature j and the pain had become intol- erable. His feet were so much scratched, that the blood dropped fast from them. Exhausted with bearing a burden above his strength, and frantic with torments exquisite beyond endurance, he entreated the Irish interpreter to implore, as the last and only grace he desired of the savages, that they would knock him on the head and take his scalp at once, or loose his hands. A French officer, instantly interposing, ordered his hands to be unbound, and some of the packs to be taken off. By this time the Indian who captured him, and had been absent with the wounded, coming up, gave him a pair of moccasons, and expressed great indignation at the unworthy treatment his prisoner had suffered. That savage chief again returned to the care of the wounded, and the Indians, about two hundred in number, went before the rest of the party to the place where the whole were that night to encamp. They took with them major Putnam, on whom, besides innumerable other outrages, they had the barbarity to inflict a deep wound with the tomahawk in the left cheek. His sufferings were in this place to be consummated, A scene of horror, infinite- ly greater than had ever met his eyes before, was now preparing. It was determined to roast him alive. For this purpose they led him into a dark forest, stripped him naked, bound him to a tree, and piled dry brush, with other fuel, at a small distance, in a cir- cle round him. They accompanied their labors, as if for his fu- neral dirge, with screams and sounds inimitable but by savage voices. Then they set the piles on fire. A sudden shower ISRAEL PUTNAM. 141 damped the rising flame. Still they strove to kindle it, until at last, the blaze ran fiercely round the circle. Major Putnam soon began to feel the scorching heat. His hands were so tied that he could move his body. He often shifted sides as the fire approached. This sight, at the very idea of which all but savages must shudder, afforded the highest diver- sion to his inhuman tormentors, who demonstrated the delirium of their joy by correspondent yells, dances, and gesticulations. He saw clearly that his final hour was inevitably come. He sum- moned all his resolution, and composed his mind, as far as the cir- cumstances could admit, to bid an eternal farewell to all he held most dear. To quit the world would scarcely have cost a single pang; but for the idea of home, but for the remembrance of do- mestic endearments, of the affectionate partner of his soul, and of their beloved offspring. His thought was ultimately fixed on a hap- pier state of existence beyond the tortures he was beginning to en- dure. The bitterness of death, even of that death which is ac- companied with the deepest of agonies, was, in a manner, past — nature, with a feeble struggle, was quitting its last hold on sublu- nary things — when a French officer rushed through the crowd, opened a way by scattering the burning brands, and unbound the victim. It was Molang himself — to whom a savage, unwilling to see another human sacrifice immolated, had run and communicated the tidings. That commandant spurned and severely repriman- ded the barbarians, whose noctural powwows and hellish orgies he suddenly ended. Putnam did not want for feeling or gratitude. The French commander, fearing to trust him alone with them, re- mained until he could deliver him with safety into the hands of his master. The savage approached his prisoner kindly, and seemed to treat him with particular affection. He offered him some hard biscuit; but finding that he could not chew them, on account of the blow he had received from the Frenchman, this more humane savage soaked some of the biscuit in water, and made him suck the pulp- like part. Determined, however, not to lose his captive, (the re- freshment being finished) he took the moccasons from his feet, and tied them to one of his wrists ; then directing him to lie down on his back upon the bare ground, he stretched one arm to its Ml 13* 142 ISRAEL PUTNAM. length, and bound it fast to a young tree ; the other arm was ex- tended and bound in the same manner — his legs were stretched apart, and fastened to two saplings. Then a number of tall, but slender poles, were cut down, which, with some long bushes, were laid across his body from head to foot ; on each side lay as many Indians as could conveniently find lodging, in order to prevent the possibility of his escape. In this disagreeable and painful posture, he remained until morning. During this night, the longest and rhost dreary conceivable, our hero used to relate, that he felt a ray of cheerfulness come casually across his mind, and could not even refrain from smiling, when he reflected on this ludicrous group for a painter, of which he himself was the principal figure. The next day he was allowed his blanket and moccasons, and permitted to march without carrying any pack, or receiving any insult. To allay his extreme hunger, a little bear's meat was given, and which he sucked through his teeth. At night the party arrived at Ticonderoga ; and the prisoner was placed under the care of the French guard. The savages, who had been prevented from glutting their diabolical thirst for blood, took other opportu- nities for manifesting their malevolence for the disappointment, by horrid grimaces and angry gestures ; but they were suffered no more to offer violence or personal indignity to him. After having been examined by the marquis de Montcalm, ma- jor Putnam was conducted to Montreal, by a French officer, who treated him with the greatest indulgence and humanity. At this place were several prisoners. Colonel Peter Schuyler, remarkable for his philanthropy, generosity and friendship, was of the number. No sooner had he heard of major Putnam's ar- rival, than he went to the interpreter's quarters, and inquired whether he had a provincial major in his custody? He found ma- jor Putnam in a comfortless condition — without coat, waistcoat or hose — the remnant of his clothing miserably dirty and ragged — his beard long and squalid — his legs torn by thorns and briars — his face gashed with wounds, and swollen with bruises. Colonel Schuyler, irritated beyond all sufierance at such a sight, could scarcely restrain his speech within limits, consistent with the pru- dence of a prisoner and the meekness of a christian. Major Putnam was immediately treated according to his rank, clothed rSKAEL PUTNAM. 143 in a decent manner, and supplied with money by that liberal and sympathetic patron of the distressed. The capture of Fontenac by general Bradstreet, afforded occa- sion for an exchange of prisoners. Colonel Schuyler was com- prehended in the cartel. A generous spiri^can never be satisfied with imposing tasks for its generosity to accomplish. Apprehen- sive that if it should be known that Putnam, was a distinguished partizan, his liberation might be retarded, and knowing that there were officers who, from the length of their captivity, had a claim of priority to exchange, he had, by his happy address, induced the governor to offer, that whatever officer he might think proper to nominate should be included in the preseot cartel. With great politeness in manner, but seeming indifference as to the object, he expressed his warmest acknowledgments to the governor, and said, — 'There is an old man here, who is a provincial major, and wishes to be at home with his wife and children ; he can do no good here or any where else : I believe your excellency had better keep some of the young men, who have no wife nor children to care for, and let the old fellow go home with me.' This justifiable finesse had the desired effect. — Life of Putnam. Shortly after, Putnam was promoted to a lieutenant-colonel, in which he continued until the close of the war, ever, and on all oc- casions, supporting his hard-earned reputation for valor and intre- pidity ; and, at the expiration of ten years from his first receiving a commission, after having seen as much service, endured as many hardships, encountered as many dangers, apver the wall, seized the flag, and fastened it to a sponge-staff, imounted the merlon, amidst the thunder of the enemy's guns, and fix^d it in a conspicuous place. "The ships of the enemy kept up their fire with unsubdued courage until half-past nine o'clock, when the darkness of the 'cight put a stop to the carnage on both sides ; and the ships with the exception of the Actcon, soon after slipped their cables, and xiropped down about two miles from the scene of action. The ter- rible slaughter on board the ships bore melancholy testimony to the bravery of the British seamen. At one time captain Morris, ■of the Bristol, was almost the only man left upon the quarter- deck. He had received several wounds, but gallantly refused to -cjuit the deck, until no longer able to stand, or give an order. This 'Ship had one hundred and eleven killed and wounded. The Ex- ^peviment lost ninety-nine killed and wounded, and among the lat- ter her commander, captain Scott. The Acteon had a lieutenant ■killed and six wounded, and the Solchay eight wounded. The whole killed and wounded two hundred and twenty-five. Sir Pe- ter Parker, and lord WUiam Campbell, who served as a volunteer, •were both wounded. The Americans lost only ten killed, and twenty -two wounded. "It is impossible to give too much praise to colonel Moultrie and his brave Carolinians, who for more ihaxi ten hours sustained the ■continued fire of upwards of one handred guns and bombs; from ■which, in the course of that time were thrown more th9.n ten thou- WILLIAM MOULTRIE. 187 sand shot and shells, seven thousand of which were picked up on the next day. "On the next day, a few shot were fired from the garrison at the Acteon, which remained aground^ and the crew returned them; but finding it impossible to get her off", they soon set fire to, and abandoned her, leaving the colors flying, the guns loaded, and all theirammunition and stores. In this perilous situation she was boarded by a small party of Americans, who fired three of the guns at their late owners, while the flames were bursting ai'ound them, filled their boats with the stores, secured the flag, and had just time to save themselves, when she was blown into the air. "The fort which had been so gallantly defended by Moultrie, afterward received his name." — Allen's American Revolution, "In 1779, he gained a victory over the British, in the battle near Beaufort. In 1780, he was second in command in Charleston, during the siege. After the city surrendered, he was sent to Phil- adelphia. In 1782, he returned, and was repeatedly chosen gov- ernor of the state of South Carolina . "Notwithstanding his labors, his victories, and public services, however zealous, however glorious, however serviceable, the enemy had the audacity to make choice of him as a fit object to be gained over to them by bribery. His talents, his experience, and enter- prise, would be an invaluable acquisition to the enemy, if it could be employed on the continent; and if it could not be so employed, then the depriving of the Americans of him would be of impor- tance nearly as great ; it was, in the eyes of a selfish, greedy enemy, highly probable that a man who had suflfered so much in his private property would listen to a proposal which would enable him to go to Jamaica as colonel of a British regiment, the com- mander of which, lord Charles Montague, politely offered, as a proof of his sincerity, to quit the command, and serve under him. ^No,' replied the indignant Moultrie, 'not the fee simple of that valuable island of Jamaica should induce me to part with my in- tegrity.'' "This incorruptible patriot died at Charleston, September 27, 1805, in the seventy -sixth year of his age." — Amer. Biography. 188 THOMAS MIFFLIN. THOMAS MIFFLIN, Major-General in the American Army. "Thomas Mifflin, a major-general in the American army dur- ing the revolutionary war, and governor of Pennsylvania, was born in the year 1744, of parents who were quakers. His educa- tion was intrusted to the care of the Rev. Dr. Smith, with whom he was connected in habits of cordial intimacy and friendship for more than forty years. Active and zealous, he engaged early in opposition to the measures of the British parliament. He was a member of the first congress, in 1774. He took arms and was among the first officers commissioned on the organization of the continental army, being appointed quarter-master-general, in Au- gust 1775. For this offence he was read out of the society of quakers. In 1777, he was very useful in animating the militia, and enkindling the spirit which seemed to have been damped. — His sanguine disposition, and his activity, rendered him insensi- ble to the value of that coolness and caution which were essential to the preservation of such an army as was then under the command of general Washington. In 1787, he was a member of the con- vention which framed the constitution of the United States, and his name is affixed to that instrument. In October, 1788, he suc- ceeded Franklin as president of the supreme executive council of Pennsylvania, in which station he continued till October, 1790. In September, a constitution for this state was formed by a con- vention, in which he presided, and he was chosen the first gov- ernor. In 1794, during the insurrection in Pennsylvania, he em- ployed to the advantage of his country, the extraordinary powers of elocution with which he was endowed. The imperfection of the militia laws was compensated by his eloquence. He made a circuit through the lower counties, and at different places, publicly addressed the militia on the crisis in the affairs of their country, and through his animating exhortations the slate furnished the quota required. He was succeeded in the office of governor by Mr. M'Kean, at the close of the year 1799, and he died at Lan- caster, January 20, 1800, in the fifty-seventh year of his age. He was an active and zealous patriot, who had devoted much of his life to the public service." — American Biographical Dictionary. JOHN S0LLIVAN. 189 JOHN SULLIVAN, Major-General in the American Army. General Sullivan was a native of New-Hampshire, where he resided before the revolution, and attained to a high degree of eminence in the profession of the law. He was a member of the first congress, 1774 ; but on the commencement of hostilities, pre- ferring a military commission, he relinquished the fairest pros- pects of fortune and fame, and appeared among the most ardent patriots and intrepid warriors. "In 1775, he was appointed a brigadier-general, and immedi- ately joined the army at Cambridge, and soon after obtained the command on Winter Hill. The next year he was ordered to Can- ada, and, on the death of general Thomas, the command of the army devolved on him.. The situation of our army in that quarter was inexpressibly distressing ; destitute of clothing, dispirited by defeat and constant fatigue, and a large proportion of the troops sick with the small pox. By his great exertions and judicious manage- ment, he meliorated the condition of the army, and obtained gen- eral applause. On his retiring from that command, July 12th, 1776, the field officers thus addressed him ; 'It is to you, sir, the public are indebted for the preservation of their property in Cana- da. It is to you we owe our safety thus far. Your humanity will call forth the silent tear and the grateful ejaculation of the sick. Your universal impartiality will force the applause of the wearied soldier.' "In August, 1776, he was promoted to the rank of major-general, and soon after was, with major-general lord Stirling, captured by the British in the battle of Long-Island. General Sullivan being paroled, was sent by general Howe with a message to congress, after which he returned to New-York. In September, he was ex- changed for major-general Prescott. We next find him in com- mand of the right division of our troops, in the famous battle at Trenton, and he acquitted himself honorably on that ever memor- able day. "In August, 1777, without the authority of congress, or the com- mander-in-chief, he planned and executed an expedition against the enemy on Staten-Island. Though the enterprise was conduct- ed with prudence and success, in part, it was said by some to have 17* 190 JOHN SULLIVAN. been less brilliant than might have been expected under his favor- able circumstances ; and as that act was deemed a bold assumption of responsibility, and reports to his prejudice being in circulation, a court of inquiry w^as ordered to investigate his conduct. The result was an honorable acquittal ; and congress resolved, that the result, so honorable to general Sullivan, is highly pleasing to congress, and that the opinion of the court be published, in justi- fication of that injured officer. "In the battles of Brandy wine and Germantown, in the autumn of 1777, general Sullivan commanded a division, and in the latter conflict his two aids were killed, and his own conduct was so con- spicuously brave, that general Washington, in his letter to congress, concludes with encomiums on the gallantry of general Sullivan, and the whole right wing of the army, \yho acted immediately under the eye of his excellency. "In August, 1777, general Sullivan was sole commander of the expedition to the island of Newport, in co-operation with the French fleet under the count D'Estaing. The marquis de la Fayette and general Greene volunteered their services on the occasion. The object of the expedition was defeated, in consequence of the French fleet being driven off by a violent storm. By this unfor- tunate event, the enemy were encouraged to engage our army in battle, in which they suffered a repulse, and general Sullivan fi- nally effected a safe retreat to the main. This retreat so ably exe- cuted, without confusion or the loss of baggage or stores, increased the military reputation of general Sullivan, and redounds to his honor as a skilful commander." About this time the following event took place, which is highly characteristic of the bravery and darini> of the American troops. When the combined forces of France and America were contem- plating an attack on Newport, R. I. general Sullivan arranged his army to march against the British forces. He disposed his troops into three divisions; the first division were ordered to take the west road, the second to take the east road, and the third to march in the centre. The advanced guard having arrived within three hundred yards of the British fort, commenced throwing up entrenchments. The British then fired a few scattering shots which passed over the lieads of the Americans without doing any injury. The American guard v/ere placed about thirty rods in JOHN SULLIVAN. 191 advance of the army, and within speaking distance of the guards of the British. And in full view were six hundred horses feed- ing, which belonged to the British army, which excited the enter- prise of a young man by the name of Mason, about twenty A^ears old. This young man, in open day, and in the presence of both armies, conceived the bold design of bringingoffoneof these hor- ses as a prize. In a low piece of ground between both sentinels, were a hw scattering alders, by means of which he contrived to pass both lines undiscovered, and made direct for the pasture where the horses, with their saddles on, were feeding, and the bridles slipped about their necks. Among these he selected the best horse he could find, which he mounted, and after leaping two or three fences, entered the road leading to the American army. As he approached the British guards, he put spurs to his horse, and passed them before they had time to recover from surprise; when he received the fire of both sentinels at the same time. — But our hero had the good fortune to escape unhurt, and arrived safe in the American camp with his noble prize: when he halted, and in a dignified manner drew from his holsters both pistols, ex- tended his arms and discharged them in triumph. But the alarm given by the sentinels, called out both armies, and the panic extended even to the British fleet in the harbor. — Alarm guns were fired for many miles up and down the coast and the whole country was filled with the utmost consternation. The British army paraded in front of the fort, expecting an immediate attack. The troopers inrunediately sprung to their horses, when lo! one poor red coat was seen wandering alone destitute of a horse. The cause of alarm was soon discovered, and both armies retired. Our hero, after exhibiting his horse in proud triumph, for about two hours, sold him to one of the officers for five hundred dollars ; a reward worthy of one of the most bold, daring and suc- cessful enterprises of which history can boast. "The bloody tragedy acted at Wyoming, in 1778, had deter- mined the commander-in-chief, in 1779, to employ a large detach- ment from the continental army to penetrate into the heart of the Indian country, to chastise the hostile tribes and their white asso- ciates and adherents, for their cruel aggressions on the defence- less inhabitants. The command of this expedition was committed 192 JOHN SULLIVAN. to major-general Sullivan, with express orders to destroy their set- tlements, to ruin their crops, and make such thorough devastations as to render the country entirely uninhabitable for the present, and thus to compel the savages to remove to a greater distance from our frontiers. "General Sullivan had under his command several brigadiers, and a well chosen army, to which were attached a number of friendly Indian warriors. With this force he penetrated about ninety miles, through a horrid swampy wilderness, and barren mountainous deserts, to Wyoming, on the Susquehannah river, thence by water to Tioga, and possessed himself of numerous towns and villages of the savages. "During this hazardous expedition general Sullivan and his ar- my encountered the most complicated obstacles, requiring the greatest fortitude and perseverance to surmount. He explored an extensive tract of country, and strictly executed the severe but necessary orders he had received. A considerable number of Indians were slain, some were captured, their habitations were burnt, and their plantations of corn and vegetables laid waste in the most effectual manner. "Eighteen villages, a number of de- tached buildings, one hundred and sixty thousand bushels of corn, and those fruits and vegetables which conduce to the comfort and subsistence of man, were utterly destroyed. Five weeks were unremittingly employed in this work of devastation." "On his return from the expedition, he and his army received the approbation of congress. It is remarked on this expedition, by the translator of M. Chastelleaux's travels, an Englishman, then resident in the United States, that the instructions given by general Sullivan to his officers, the order of march he prescribed to his troops, and the discipline he had the ability to maintain, would have done honor to the most experienced ancient or modern generals. "At the close of the campaign, in 1779, general Sullivan, in consequence of impaired health, resigned his commission in the army. Congress, in accepting his resignation, passed a resolve, thanking him for his past services. His military talents and bold spirit of enterprise were universally acknowledged. He was fond of display, and his personal appearance and dignified deport- BEN/AMIN LINCOLN. 193 ment commanded respect. After his resignation, he resumed his professional pursuits at the bar, and was much distinguished as a statesman, politician, and patriot. He acquired very considera- ble proficiency in general literature, and an extensive knowledge of men and the world. He received from Harvard University a degree of master of arts, and from the University of Dartmouth a deo-ree of doctor of laws. He was one of the convention who formed the state constitution for New-Hampshire, was chosen into the first council, and was afterward elected chief magistrate in that state, and held the office for three years. In September, 1789, he was appointed judge of the district court for the district of New- Hampshire, and continued in the office till his death, 1795." — Thacher's Military Journal. BENJAMIN LINCOLN, Major-Genkral in the American Arm\'. "General Lincoln desei'ves a high rank in the fraternity of American heroes. He was born in Hingham, Massachusetts, January 23d, O. S. 1733. His early education was not auspi- cious to his future eminence, and his vocation was that of a farmer, till he was more than forty years of age, though he was commis- sioned as a magistrate, and elected a representative in the state legislature. In the year 1775, he sustained the office of lieuten- ant-colonel of militia. In 1776, he was appointed by the council of Massachusetts a brigadier, and soon after a major-general, and he applied himself assiduously to training and preparing the mili- tia for actual service in the field, in which he displayed the mili- tary talent which he possessed. In October he marched with a body of militia, and joined the main army at New-York. The commander-in-chief, from a knowledge of liis character and merit, recommended him to congress as an excellent officer, and in Feb- ruary, 1777, he was by that honorable body created a major-gen- eral on the continental establishment. For several months he commanded a division, or detachments in the main army, under Washington, and was in situations which required the exercise of the utmost vigilance and caution, as well as firmness and cour- age. Having the command of about five hundred men in an ex- posed situation near Bound Brook, through the neglect of his pat- 194 BENJAMIN LINCOLN. roles, a large body of the enemy approached within two hundred yards of his quarters undiscovered; the general had scarcely time to mount and leave the house before it was surrounded. He led ofFhis troops, however, in the face of the enemy, and made good his retreat, though with the loss of about sixty men killed and wounded. One of his aids, with the general's baggage and pa- pers, fell into the hands of the enemy, as did also three small pieces of artillery. In July, 1777, general Washington selected him to join the northern army under the command of general Gates, to oppose the advance of general Burgoyne. He took his station at Manchester, in Vermont, to receive and form the New- Enn-land militia as they arrived, and to order their march to the rear of the British army. He detached colonel Brown with five hundred men, on the 13th of September, to the landing at Lake George, where he succeeded in surprising the enemy, and took possession of two hundred batteaux, liberated one hundred Amer- ican prisoners, and captured two hundred and ninety -three of the enemy, with the loss of only three killed and five wounded. Thii< enterprise was of the highest importance, and contributed essenti- ally to the glorious event which followed. Having detached two other parties to the enemy's posts at Mount Independence and Skeensborough, general Lincoln united his remaining force with the army under general Gates, and was the second in command. During the sanguinary conflict on the 7th of October, general Lincoln commanded within our lines, and at one o'clock the next morning, he marched with his division to relieve the troops that had been engaged, and to occupy the battle ground, the enemy having retreated. While on this duty he had occasion to ride for- ward some distance, to reconnoitre, and to order some disposition of his own troops, when a party of the enemy made an unexpected movement, and he approached within musket shot before he was aware of his mistake. A whole volley of musketry was instant- ly discharged at him and his aids, and he received a wound by which the bones of his leg were badly fractured, and he was obli- ged to be carried off the field. The wound was a formidable one, and the loss of his limb was for some time apprehended. He was for several months confined at Albany, and it became necessary to remove a considerable portion of the main bone before he was BENJAMIN LINCOLN. 195 conveyed to his house at Hingham, and under this painful surgi* cal operation, the writer of this, being present, witnessed in him a degree of firmness and patience not to be exceeded. "I have known hira," says colonel Rice, who was a member of his milita- ry family, "during the most painful operation by the surgeon, while bystanders were frequently obliged to leave the room, en- tertain us with some pleasant anecdote, or story, and draw forth a smile from his friends." His wound continued several years in an ulcerated state, and by the loss of the bone the limb was short- ened, which occasioned lameness during the remainder of his life. "General Lincoln certainly afforded very important assistance in the capture of Burgoyne, though it was his unfortunate lot, while in active duty, to be disabled before he could participate in the capitulation. Though his recovery was not complete, he repaired to head quarters in the following August, and was joyfully re- ceived by the commander-in-chief, who well knew how to appre- ciate his merit. It was from a developement of his estimable character as a man, and his talent as a military commander, that he was designated by congress for the arduous duties of the chief command in the southern department, under innumerable embar- rassments. On his arrival at Charleston, December 1778, he found that he had to form an army,' to provide supplies, and to arrange the various departments, that he might be able to cope with an enemy consisting of experienced officers and veteran troops. — This, it is obvious, required a man of superior powers, indefatiga- ble perseverance, and unconquerable energy. Had not these been his inherent qualities, Lincoln must have yielded to the for- midable obstacles which opposed his progress.- About the 28th of December, general Prevost arrived with a fleet, and about three thousand British troops, and took possession of Savannah, after routing a small party of Americans under general Robert Howe, General Lincoln immediately put his troops in motion, and took post on the eastern side of the river, about twenty miles from the city,- but he was not in force to commence offensive operations, till the last of February. In April, with the view of covering the upper part of Georgia, he marched to Augusta; after which Pre- vost, the British commander, crossed the river into Carolina, and marched for Charleston. General Lincoln, therefore, re-crossed 196 BENJAMIN LINCOLN. the Savannah and followed his route, and on his arrival near the city, the enemy had retired from it during the previous night. A detachment of the enemy, supposed to be about six hundred men, under lieutenant-colonel Maitland, being posted at Stone Ferry, where they had erected works for their defence, general Lincoln resolved to attack them, which he did on the 19th of June. The contest lasted one hour and twenty minutes, in which he lost one hundred and sixty men killed and wounded, and the enemy suf- fered about an equal loss. Their works were found to be much stronger than had been represented, and our artillery proving too light to annoy them, and the enemy receiving a reinforcement, our troops were obliged to retire. "The next event of importance which occurred with our gen- eral, was the bold assault on Savannah, in conjunction with the count D'Estaing. General Pre vest had again possessed himself of that city; and count D'Estaing arrived with his fleet and arma- j! ment in the beginning of September, 1779. Having landed nearly "' three thousand French troops, general Lincoln immediately united about one thousand men to his force. The prospect of success was highly flattering; but the enemy exerted all their efforts in .strengthening their lines, and after the count had summoned the garrison, and while Prevost was about to arrange articles of capi- tulation, he received a reinforcement. It was now resolved to attempt the place by a regular siege; but various causes occa- sioned a delay of several days ; and when it commenced, the can- nonade and bombardment failed of producing the desired effect, and the short time allowed the count on our coast, was quite in- sufficient for reducing the garrison by regular approaches. The two commanders concluded, therefore, to make an effort on the works by assault. On the 9th of October, in the morning, the troops were led on by D'Estaing and Lincoln united, while a co- lumn led by count Dillon missed their route in the darkness, and failed of the intended co-operation. Amidst a most appalling fire of the covered enemy, the allied troops forced the abattis, and planted two standards on the parapets : but being overpowered at the point of attack, they were compelled to retire — the French having seven hundred, the Americans two hundred and forty. BENJAMIN LINCOLN. 197 killed and wounded. The count Pulaski, at the head of a body of our horse, was mortally wounded. "General Lincoln next repaired to Charleston, and endeavored to put that city in a posture of defence, urgently requesting of con- gress a reinforcement of regular troops, and additional supplies, which were but partially complied with. In February 1780, gen- eral Sir Henry Clinton arrived, and landed a formidable force in the vicinity, and on the 30th of March encamped in front of the American lines at Charleston. Considering the vast superiority of the enemy, both in sea and land forces, it might be questioned whether prudence or correct judgment would dictate an attempt to defend the city. It will not be supposed, however, that the deter- mination was formed without the most mature deliberation, and for reasons perfectly justifiable. It is well known that the general was in continual expecta*ron of an augmentation of strength by reinforcements. On the 10th of April, the enemy, having made some advances, summoned the garrison to an unconditional sur- render, which was promptly refused. A heavy and incessant cannonade was sustained on each side till the 11th of May, when the besiegers had completed their third parallel line, and having made a second demand of surrender, a capitulation was agreed on. It is to be lamented that, with all the judicious and vigorous efforts in his power, general Lincoln was requited only by the frowns of fortune ; whereas, had he been successful in his bold enterprise and views, he would have been crowned with unfading laurels. But, notwithstanding a series of disappointments and unforeseen occurrences, he was censured by no one, nor was his judgment or merit called in question. He retained his popularity and the con- fidence of the army, and was considered as a most zealous patriot, and the bravest of soldiers. "In the campaign of 1781, general Lincoln commanded a divi- sion under Washington, and at the siege of York-town he had his full share of the honor of that brilliant and auspicious event. — The articles of capitulation stipulated for the same honor in favor of the surrendering army, as had been granted to the garrison cf Charleston. General Lincoln was appointed to conduct them to the field where their arms were deposited, and received the custo- mary submission. In the general order of the commander-in- 18 198 BEXJAMIN LINX'OLN. chief the clay after the capitulation, general Lincoln was among the general officers whose services were particularly mentioned. In October, 1781, he was chosen by congress secretary of war, retaining his rank in the army. In this office he continued till October, 1783, when his proffered resignation was accepted by congress. "Having relinquished the duties and cares of a public employ- ment, he retired and devoted his attention to his farm j but in 1784 he was chosen one of the commissioners and agents on the part of the state, to make and execute a treaty with the Penobscot Indi- ans. When in the year 1786-7, the authority of our state gov- ernment was in a manner prostrated, and the country alarmed by a most audacious spirit of insurrection, under the guidance of Shays and Day, general Lincoln was appointed by the governor and council to command a detachment of militia, consisting of four or five thousand men, to oppose their progress, and compel them to a submission to the laws. He marched from Boston on the 30th cf January, into the counties of Worcester, Hampshire, and Berk- shire, where the insurgents had erected their standard. They were embodied inconsiderable force, and manifested a determined resistance, and a slight skirmish ensued between them and a par- ty of militia under general Shephei'd. I>incoln, however, con- ducted with such address and energy, that the insurgents were routed from one town to another, till they were completely disper- sed in all directions ; and by his wise and prudent measures, the in- surrection was happily suppressed without bloodshed, excepting a few individuals who were slain under general Shepherd's com- mand. "He was a member of the convention for ratifying the federal •constitution, and in the summer of 1789 he received from president Washington the appointment of collector of the port of Boston, V, hich office he sustained till, being admonished by the increasing infirmities of age, he requested permission to resign. "Having, after his resignation of the office of collector, passed about two years in retirement and in tranquility of mind, but exr periencing the feebleness of age, he received a short attack of disease, by which his honorable life was terminated on the 9th of May, 1810, aged seventy-seven years. BENJAMIN LINCOLN. 199 "The following tribute is on the records of the Society of Cin- cmnatti. 'At the annual meeting in July, 1810, major-general . John Brooks was chosen president of the society, to supply the place of our venerable and much lamented president, general Ben- jamin Lincoln, who had presided over the society from the organi- zation thereof in 1783, to the 9th of May, 1810, the day of his de- cease, with the entire approbation of every member, and the grateful tribute of his surviving comrades, for his happy guidance and afiectionate attentions during so long a period.' "While at Purysburg, on the Savannah river, a soldier, named Sickling, having been detected in frequent attempts to desert, was tried and sentenced to be hanged. The general ordered the exe- cution. The rope broke : a second was procured, which broke al- so. The case was reported to the general for directions. 'Let him run,' said the general, 'I thought he looked like a scape-gal- iows.' ''Major Garden, in his anecdotes of the American revolution, relates this story, with some addition. It happened, that as Fickling was led to execution, the surgeon-general of the army passed ac- cidentally on his way to his quarter?, which were at some distance. When the second rope was procured, the adjutant of the regiment, a stout and heavy man, assayed by every means to break it, but without effect. Fickling was then haltered and again turned off, when, to the astonishment of the by-standers, the rope untwisted, and he fell a second time, uninjured, to the ground. A cry for mercy was now general throughout the ranks, which occasioned major Ladson, aid-de-camp to general Lincoln, to gallop to head- quarters, to make a representation of facts, which were no sooner stated, tlianan immediate pardon was granted, accompanied with an order that he should instantaneously be drummed, with every mark of infamy, out of camp, and threatened with instant death if he ever should be found attempting to approach it. In the in- terim, the surgeon-general had established himself at his quarters, ' in a distant barn, little doubting but that the catastrophe was at an end, and Fickling quietly resting in his grave. Midnight was at hand, and he was busily engaged in writing, when, hearing the approach of a footstep, he raised his eyes, and saw with astonish- ment the tignrc of the man who had, in his opinion, been executed, 200 HUGH MERCER. slowly, and with haggard countenance approaching towards him. 'How '.how is this?' exclaimed the doctor j 'whence come you? what do you want with me? were you not hanged this morning? 'Yes sir,' replied the resuscitated man, 'I am the wretch you saw going to the gallows, and who was hanged.' 'Keep your distance,' said the doctor, 'approach me not till you say why you come here.' — 'Simply, sir,' said the supposed spectre, 'to solicit food. I am no ghost, doctor. The rope broke twice while the executioner was doing his office, and the general thought proper to pardon me.' — 'If that be the case,' rejoined the doctor, 'eat and be welcome ; but I beg of you in future to have a little more consideration, and not intrude so unceremoniously into the apartment of one who had every right to suppose you an inhabitant of the tomb." — ThacJier'^s Military Journal. HUGH MERCER, M\jor-Generax in the American Arm v. General Hugh Mercer was a Scotchman by birth, but at an early age emigrated to Virginia, where he continued to reside, and become a practising physician. General Wilkinson relates the following interesting incidents in his life : "He served in the campaign of 1755, with general Braddock, and was wounded through the shoulder in the unfortunate action near Fort du Quesne: unable to retreat, he lay down under cover of a large fallen tree, and in pursuit, an Indian leaped upon the covert immediately over him, and after looking about a few seconds for the direction of the fugitives, he sprung oft' without obs erving the wounded man who lay at his feet. So soon as the Indians had killed the wounded, scalped the dead, rifled the baggage, and cleared the field, the unfortunate Mercer, finding himself exceed- ingly faint and thirsty, from loss of blood, crawled to an adjacent brook, and, after drinking plentifully, found himself so much re- freshed that he was able to walk, and commenced his return by the road the army had advanced ; but being without subsistence, and more than one hundred miles from any christian settlement, he ex- pected to die of famine, when he observed a rattlesnake on his path, which he killed and contrived to skin, and throwing it over HUGH MERCER. 201 hi.- sound shoulder, he subsisted on it as the claims of nature ur- ged, until he reached Fort Cumberland, on the Potomac." General Mercer, at the commencement of the revolution, hear- tily engaged in the cause of American liberty. He was one of those gallant spirits who adhered to the American cause "in times that tried men's souls," and bravely supported the commander-in- chief in his disastrous retreatthrough the Jerseys. He was present at the battle of Princeton, where he greatly distinguished himself, and was mortally wounded. "On the night of the 1st of January, general Mercer, colonel C. Biddle, and doctor Cochran, spent the evening with general St, Clair. Fatigued with the duties of the day, I had laid down in the same apartment, and my attention was attracted by the turn of their conversation, on the recent promotion of captain William ^V'ashing•ton, from a regiment of infantry to a majority of cavalry. General Mercer expressed his disapprobation of the measure ; at which the gentlemen appeared surprised, as it was the reward cf acknowledged gallantry, and Mercer, in explanation, observed, 'We are not engaged in a war of ambition ; if it had been so, I should never have accepted a commission under a man who had not seen a day's service, (alluding to the great orator and distin- guished patriot, Patrick Henry;) we serve not for ourselves, but for our country, and every man should be content to fill the place in which he can be most useful. I know Washington to be a good captain of infantry, but I know not what sort of a major of horse he may make ; and I have seen good captains make indiflerent ma- jors; for my own part, my views in this contest are confined to'a single object, that is, the success of the cause, and God can wit- ness how cheerfully I would lay down my life to secure it.' "In general Mercer, we lost a chief who, for education, experi- ence, talents, disposition, integrity, and patriotism, was second to no man but the commander-in-chief, and Avas qualified to fill the highest trusts of the country. The manner in which he was wounded is an evidence of the excess to which the common sol- diery are liable in the heat of action, particularly when irritated by the loss of favorite officers. Being obstructed when advancing by a post and rail fence in front of the orchard, it may be pre- sumed the general dismounted voluntarily, for he was on foot when 18* 202 WILLIAM HEATH. the troops gave way; in exerting himself to rally them, he was thrown into the rear, and perceiving he could not escape, he tur- ned and surrendered, but was instantly knocked down, and bayo- netted thirteen times, when feigning to be dead, one of his mur- derers exclaimed 'Damn him, he is dead, let us leave him.' After the retreat of the enemy, he was conveyed to the house of Tho- mas Clark, to whom he gave this account, and languished until the 12th, when he expired." WILLIAM HEATH, Major-General in the American Army, ^ General William Heath descended from an ancient family, and was of the fifth generation of the family who have inherited the same real estate, taken up in a state of nature. He was born in the year 1737, in Roxbury, Massachusetts, and was from his youth a cultivator of the soil, of which profession he was passion- ately fond. From his childhood he was remarkably fond of military exer- cises, which passion grew up with him, and as he arrived at years of maturity, led him to procure, and attentively study, every mili- tary treatise in the English language, which he could procure. As the dispute between Great Britain and her American colonies assumed a serious aspect. Heath did not hesitate for a moment to declare his sentiments in favor of the rights and liberties of his fellow countrymen. So early as the year 1770, he commenced addresses to the public, under the signature of^AMilitari/ Coun- tryjjiar},'''' in which he urged the importance of military discipline, and skill in the use of arms, as the only means under heaven that could save the country; and he assiduously applied himself in or- ganizing and disciplining the companies of militia and minute men. Being ranked among the patriots, and advocates for liberty, he v/as commissioned, in 1775, by the provincial congress, as a briga- dier-general, and in 1770, he received a commission from con- gress, appointing him a major-general in the army of the United States. ' Though high in rank, and respectable as an officer of parade and discipline, we look in vain for laurels acquired in the field. Had it been his destiny however to encounter the perils of a con- WILLIAM HEATH. 203 flict in the field of battle, no one can say how valorously he would have acted the hero. During the years 1777 and 1778, he was the commanding offi- cer of the eastern department, with his head-quarters at Boston. Here devolved upon him the arduous and difficult duties of super- intendent of the convention troops captured with Burgoyne at Sara- toga, and now quartered at Cambridge. The station required the exercise of uncommon firmness and decision of character. And had general Heath been destitute of these characteristics, he would have been subjected to the grossest impositioiis and indignities, from the haughtiness of the British generals, Burgoyne and Phil- lips, and the perverse temper of their soldiery. He who had vaunt- ingly declared in the British parliament, that "with five thousand men he would make elbow room from one end of the continent to the other," could ill support himself under the chagrin and mortifica- tion of a state of captivity. His lofty spirit frequently broke forth, but general Heath soon convinced him that he was neither deficient in spirit, nor ignorant of his duty as a military commander. The following circumstances that occurred during the stay of the British troops at Cambridge, and the letters which passed be- tween the olficers, at once show the difficulties which arose in the path of duty prescribed to general Heath, and the promptness and vigor with which he met and surmounted them. Soon after the arrival of the British generals at Cambridge, they made an insidious attempt to retain the chief command over their own troops. In a conversation, general Phillips turning to gene- ral Heath, observed, "Sir, you well know the disposition of sol- diers, and that they will more or less, in all armies, commit some disorders; suppose you should delegate to general Burgoyne the power of seeing your orders executed?" General Heath promptly replied, "that he knew the disposition of soldiers, and also the necessity of order and discipline ; that he was not only willing, tut expected that general Burgoyne, and every other ofiicer, would exert themselves to keep them in order. But as to the exercise of his own command, and enforcement of his own orders when necessary, that was a jurisdiction which gen- eral Burgoyne must not expect to exercise while here." For two weeks after his arrival in Boston, general Burgo} ne had 204 WILLIAM HEATir. neglected upon trifling excuses, to sign his parole in the manner specified in the articles of capitulation. Finding him thus dispo- sed to evade, general Heath addressed him in the following letter : Head-Quarters, Boston, Nov. 23, 1777. Sir — Two weeks have now elapsed since I had fully expected that the officers would have signed their paroles. They have, during this time, been enjoying, in a great measure, the liberty of the limits intended to be assigned to them, without pledging their honor by parole; which is not only contrary to the established cus- tom of nations, but contrary to the eleventh article of the conven- tion. I must, therefore, in the most explicit terms, insist that the officers who wish and expect to be permitted on parole, agreeably to the convention, do sign it to-morrow. This is so reasonable, that I expect there will be no ftirther hesitancy ; and I still assure your excellency, that no endeavors of mine shall be wanting to fulfil the convention, and to treat the officers with politeness and generosity. lam, &c. (Signed) WM. HEATH. November 8th, 1777, congress directed general Heath "to cause to be taken down the name and rank of every commissioned offi- cer, and the name, size, age, and description of every non-com- missioned officer and pi'ivate, and all other persons comprised in the convention made between lieutenant-general Burgoyne and major-general Gates, on the 16th of October, 1777, and transmit an authentic copy thereof to the board of war, in order that if any officer or soldier, or other person as above mentioned, of the said army, shall hereafter be found in arms against these states, during the present contest, he may be convicted of the offence, and sufier the punishment in such case inflicted b}'- the law of nations." Upon the foregoing being communicated to general Burgoyne, and he called upon to have said descriptive lists made out according- ly, he wrote our general the follov.'ing letter: Cambridge, Nov. 20, 1777. Sir — I have received a paper, dated head-quarters, Boston, Nov. 20th, purporting to be founded upon express orders from the honorable continental congress, which paper I return as inadmis- ' sible, because extending to matters in which the congress have no right of intefference. WILLIAM HEATH. 205 A list of the names and rank of every commissioned officer, and the numbers of the non-commissioned officers and soldiers, may be necessary to you, sir, for the purpose of fulfilling the conven- tion, in quartering officers, and the regular delivery of provisions, fuel, (fee. Such lists shall be prepared at your request ; but before any other list can be granted, I must be assured of the purposes for which they are intended, and the word order must neither be mentioned or implied. I have the honor to be, &c. (Signed) J. BURGOYNE, Lieut. Gen. To the foregoing, our general wrote an answer as follows : Head- Quarters, Boston, Nov. 21, 1777. Sir — Yours of yesterday is before me ; and although you might at first imagine that the honorable continental congress have no right of interference in matters of the convention, yet I conclude, upon further reflection you must be convinced, that as that body are the representatives of that people who are to reap the advan- tages or disadvantages of the convention, and as all continental officers are acting by virtue of their authority, and under their di- rection, they assuredly have a right of interference, and to give such orders to their officers as they may think proper for the full completion of the convention, and for the safety and good of the people. I must therefore insist that you furnish me with proper lists of names, and descriptions, for the purposes before mentioned, as soon as may be. I shall at all times endeavor to found my orders on the princi- ples of honor, reason and justice, and not to infringe those deli- cate principles in others; but my orders for the purposes of order and regularity, must be obeyed by every man and all bodies of men, placed under my direction; and fully determined I am, that offenders shall not pass with impunity. I am, &c. (Signed) W. HEATH. Gen. Burgoyne, had received intimations that a fleet of trans- ports was about to come round for the troops, and that the Jvno frigate was to wear a flag for his particular accommodation. This he mentioned to general Heath, and wished to know if the frigate might come up into the harbor. General Heath had no appre- hensions of any danger from a frigate entering the harbor, but ap- 206 WILLIAM IIEATri. prehended that some people might think that he was not sufficient- ly vigilant, in case he allowed it. He therefore told general Bur- goyne, that the frigate could not come up into the harbor, and hint- ed to him the taking of the most convenient transport in the fleet for the purpose ; and he might do as he pleased when he got ofi'. This touched general Burgoyne exceedingly, who wrote a letter to general Heath, in which was the following paragraph : "As to your allotment of a ^convenient transport for my pas- sage, if it was from yourself, I am to thank you, sir, for a sort of insult, which the most haughty man of office would be ashamed of, in any other country. However, as I am determined every trans- action concerning this convention shall be notorious, and beyond the powers of subterfuge to explain away, 1 have directed the fri- gate together with the transports, to come round ; and it will then 1)3 for you, sir, to prohibit the entry of Boston harbor, to any ships bearing a flag of truce, and declaring they are sent for the express purpose of conveying to Great Britain any part of the troops of the convention. (Signed) J. BURGOYNE. To which general Heath wrote the following answer: Head Quarters, Boston, Jan. 5, 1778. Sir — Your excellency's favor of yesterday came duly to hand, and I must confess I was not a little surprised at some expres- sions in it. As by the convention transports only are stipulated to receive the troops, I submit to you, sir, whether a hint (if you were even sure that it came from myself,) that you should take a convenient one, rather than introduce a frigate, which is neither expressed nor implied in the convention, merits those epithets which you are pleased to bestow on me. I have ever aimed to treat you with politeness; and the plighted faith and honor of my country require me to pay strict attention to the convention on their part: of course, when transports arrive to receive troops, they will enter the harbor; and if you can find by the convention, that a frigate is to enter for the particular re- ception of yourself, she will not be prohibited. But if it is rather uncommon for ships of war to bear flags of truce, and if consenting to it in the present case should appear to be rather an act of po' WILLIAM IIEATil. 207 liteness and generosity than otherwise, I leave you to your own reflections, whether you have made choice of the most happy ex- pressions to obtain it. (Signed) W. HEATH. Another serious matter took place about this time. Colonel Henley, who had the immediate command at Cambridge, a brave and good officer, but warm and quick in his natural temper, having ordered some prisoners who were under guard, to be turned out, that he might examine them, one of them treated him, as he judged , with much insolence, upon which he pricked him whh a sword or bayonet. General Burgoyne immediately presented a complaint against colonel Henley, charging him with barbarous and wanton conduct and intentional murder, as appears in the following letter : Cambridge, Jan. 9, 1778. Sir — A report has been made to me, of a disturbance that hap- pened at the barracks on Wednesday afternoon, for which I am much concerned; and though the provocations from your people, which originally occasioned it, were of the most atrocious nature, I was willing the offender on our part should be properly punished. But Colonel Henly, not content with that, made prisoners of eigh- teen innocent men, and sent them on board a guard-ship, as -alleged by your order. It is not only a duty to my situation, to demand the immediate discharge of these men, together with a satisfactory apology; but I also mean it as an attention to you, sir, that I give you an immediate o}>portunity to disavow so unjustifiable a pro- ceeding, as committing men to the worst of prisons upon vague report, caprice, and passion. I am, &c. (Signed) J. BURGOYNE. To which our general returned the following answer: Head-Quarters, Jan. 10, 1778. Sir — Yours of yesterday's date, I received last evening. What provocations you allude to, as having been offered by my troops, I am at a loss to determine. The insults and abuses which they have received, I will venture to say, unless I have been most grossly misinformed, are unparallelled ; and whether you are wil- ling or unwilling, sir, offenders shall no longer pass with impunity. If it can be made to appear that any of those soldiers sent to the guard-ship by my orders, are innocent, they shall be released from their confinement. But with respect to such as have been guilty 208 WILLIAM HEATH. of violating my standing orders of the garrison, instead of dis- avowing or making any apology for the confinement of such, be assured that I do most explicitly avow it. And, as I have before observed to your excellency in a former letter, of which you may be assured, I shall at all times endeavor to found my orders on the principles of honor, reason, and justice, and not to infringe those de- licate principles in others; so also be assured, sir, that such my orders shall be obeyed by every officer and soldier placed under my direction ; and such as have the hardiness to transgress them, shall abide the consequences. I am, &.c. (Signed) W. HEATH. June 17th, 1778, a British officer was shot by an American sentinel, the officer attempting to pass, contrary to the standing orders. The sentinel was immediately reheved and put under guard, to await a legal trial. Upon receiving an official account, general Heath immediately informed major-general Phillip^' who was now the senior British officer, (Burgoyne having sailed for England,) of the circumstance, and of his determination to give the offender a fair trial. A few minutes after general Heath had sent his letter, he received the following from general Phillips : Cambridge, June 17, 1778. Murder and death has at length taken place. An officer, riding out from the barracks on Prospect Hill, has been shot by an Amer- ican sentinel. I leave the horrors incident to that bloody dispo- tion, which has joined itself to rebellion in these colonies, to the feelings of all Europe. I do not ask for justice, for I verily be- lieve that every principle of it is fled from this province. I demand liberty to send an officer to Sir Henry Clinton, by way of the head- quarters of general Washington, with my report of this murder. (Signed) W. PHILLIPS. The next morning our general wrote the following to general Phillips, by the hands of lieutenant-colonel Pollard, who was or- dered to post a sufficient number of sentinels to confine general Phillips to the liniits assigned himj and then to inform the next senior officer that general Phillips was confined. Head-Quarters, Boston, June 18, 1778. Sir— Were it even certain that the shooting of the officer was an act of the most deliberate and wilful murder, wljy should you WILLIAM HEATH. 209 charge these free, independent states with a bloody disposition and with rebellion, and this state in particular as void of every principle of justice ? Although I ever had, and still have a per- sonal regard for you, and wish in every respect to treat you with the utmost generosity; yet that duty which 1 owe to the honor and dignity of the United States, will not allow me to pass unnoticed such expressions as are contained in your letter; and I cannot put any other interpretation upon them, than that they are a violent infraction of your parole, most sacredly given. I do conceive it to be my duty, and I do hereby restrict you to the limits of your house, gardens, and yard, and to the direct road from your quarters to the quarters of the troops of the convention, on Prospect and Winter Hills; expecting from you a parole for propriety of conduct within those limits; which if you refuse, I shall be under the ne- cessity of ordering you to narrower limits, until I can obtain the pleasure of the honorable congress touching this matter; to whom I shall transmit your letter, and crave their directions. I am, your obedient servant, (Signed) W. HEATH, Maj. Gen. General Phillips continuing to exhibit the same temper, he was kept under arrest until the troops of the convention were ordered to be removed to Charlottesville, in Virginia; when general Heath was relieved altogether of his troublesome guests. In June, 1779, general Heath was elected by congress a com- missioner of the board of war, with a salary of four thousand dol- lars per annum, and allowed to retain his rank in the army, which he declined, preferring to participate in active operations in the field. In the summer of 1780, he was directed by the commander-in- chief to repair to Rhode-Island, to make arrangements for the re- ception of the French fleet and army, which were expected soon to arrive. In his interview with the count Rochambeau, and other officers of the French army and navy, he proffered his friend- ly civilities, and contributed all in his power to their comfortable accommodation, which was productive of a mutual and lasting friendship between them. Indefatigable attention to duty, in the various stations assigned him, w^as a prominent trait in his charac- ter. In May, 1781, general Heath was directed by the comman- 19 210 WILLIAM ALEXANDER. der-in-chief to repair to the New-England states, to represent to their respective executives the distressing condition of our army, and to solicit a speedy supply of provisions and clothing, in which he was successful. As senior major-general, he was more than once commander of the right wing of our army, and during the absence of the commander-in-chief at the siege of York-Town, he was intrusted with the command of the main army, posted at the Highlands and vicinity, to guard the important works on the Hudson. On the 24th of June, 1784, hostilities having ceased between the two armies, general Washington addressed a letter to general Heath, expressing his thanks for his meritorious servi- ces, and his great affection and esteem, and on the same day they took their final leave. Such was general Heath's public life. His private one v;as re- tired and domestic, amiable, orderly, and industrious, but not re- markable for hospitality, or a liberal appropriation of property to public purposes. He died at Roxbury, January 24, 1814, aged seventy -seven years. — Thachers Military J onrnal. WILLIAM ALEXANDER, Major-General in the American Army. General William Alexander, commonly called lord Stirling. was a native of the city of New-York. He was considered, by many, as. the rightful heir to the title and estate of an earldom in Scotland, of which country his father was a native ; and although when he went to North Britain in pursuit of this inheritance, he failed of obtaining an acknowledgment of his claim by govern- ment; yet, among his friends and acquaintances, he received, by courtesy, the title of lord Stirling. In his youth, his labors were arduous in the pursuit of science, and he discovered an early fondness for the study of mathematics and astronomy, in which he attained great eminence. At the commencement of the revolutionary war, he attached himself to the cause of America, and entered the field against her enemies. He was a brave, discerning, and intrepid officer. In the battle on Long Island, August 27th, 1776, he shared largely in the glory and disasters of the day. The part he bore in that en- gagement is described as follows : — "The fire towards Brooklyn. WILLIAM ALEXANDER. 211 gave the first intimation to the American right that the enemy had gained their rear- Lord Stiriing, perceiving the danger with which he was threatened, and tliat he could only escape it by in- stantly retreating across the creek by the Yellow Mills, not far from the cove, orders to this effect were immediately given; and the more effectually to secure the retreat of the main body of the detachment, he determined to attack, in person, a corps of the British under lord Cornwallis, stationed at a house somewhat a- bove the place at which he proposed crossing the creek. About four hundred men were chosen out for this purpose ; and the attack was made with great spirit. This small corps was brought up to the charge several times, and lord Stirling stated that he was on ihe point of dislodging lord Cornwallis from his post ; but the force ■in his front increasing, and general Grant advancing on his rear, the brave men he commanded were no longer able to oppose the superior numbers which assailedthem on every quarter, and those who survived were, with their general, made prisoners of war. — This bold and well-judged attempt, though unsuccessful, was pro- ductive of great advantages. It gave an opportunity to a large part of the detachment to save themselves by crossing the creek. Immediately after his exchange, lord Stirling joined the army under the immediate command of general Washington. In the battle of Germantown, his division, and the brigade of generals Nash and Maxwell, formed the corps of reserve. At the battle of Monmouth, he commanded the left wing of the American army. At an important period of the engagement, he brought up a de- tachment of artillery, commanded by lieutenant-colonel Carring- ton, with some field-pieces, which played with great effect on the €nemy, who were pressing on to the charge. These pieces, with the aid of several parties of infantry detached for the purpose, effectually put a stop to their advance. The American artillery maintained their ground with admirable firmness, under a heavy lire from the British field artillery. His attachment to Washington was proved in the latter part of 1777, by transmitting to him an account of the disaffection of gen- eral Conway to the commander-in-chief. In the letter he said, ^•such wicked duplicity of conduct I shall always think it my duty to detect.'" He died at Albany, Jan. 15th, 1783, aged 57 years. 212 JAJIES CLINTON, JAMES CLINTON, Major-General in the American Armv. General James Clinton was the fourth son of colonel Charles Clinton, and born in Ulster county, New-York, August 19th, 1736. In common with his brothers, he received an excellent education. In the critical and eventful affairs of nations, when their rights and their interests are invaded. Providence, in the plentitude of bis beneficence, has generally provided men qualified to raise the standard of resistance, and has infused a redeeming spirit into the community, which enabled it to rise superior to the calamities that menaced its liberty and its prosperity. History does not record a more brilliant illustration of this truth than the American revolu- tion. In defiance of the most appalling considerations, constella- tions of the most illustrious men pierced the dark and gloomy clouds which enveloped this oppressed people, and shone forth in the councils and the armies of the nation. Their wisdom drew forth the resources, and their energy vindicated the rights of Ame- rica. They took their lives in their hands, and liberty or death was inscribed on their hearts. Amidst this gallant band, general Clinton stood deservedly conspicuous. To an iron constitution, and an invincible courage, he added great coolness in action and perseverance in effort. The predominant inclination of his mind was to a military life, and by a close attention to the studies con- nected with it, he prepared himself to perform those duties which afterwards devolved upon him, and thereby established his char- acter as an intrepid and skilful officer. In the war of 1756, usually denominated the French war, Clin- ton first encountered the fatigues and dangers of a military life. — He was a captain under colonel Bradstreet, at the capture of Fort Frontenac, and rendered essential service in that expedition by the capture of a sloop of war on Lake Ontario. "His company was placed in row-galleys, and favored by a calm, compelled the French vessel to strike, after an obstinate re- sistance. His designation as captain commandant of the four com- panies raised for the protection of the western frontiers of the counties of Orange and Ulster, was a post of great responsibility and hazard, and demonstrated the confidence of the government. The safety of a line of settlements, extending at least fifty miles. JAMES CLINTON. 213 v.as intrusted to his vigilance and intrepidity. The ascendency of the French over the ruthless savages was always predominant, and the inhabitant of the frontiers was compelled to hold the plough with one hand for his sustenance, and to grasp his gun with the other for his defence ; and he was continually in danger of be- ing awakened, in the hour of darkness, by the war-whoop of the savages, to witness the conflagration of his dwelling and the mur- der of his family. After the termination of the French war, Mr. Clinton married Mary Do Witt, and he retired from the camp to enjoy the repose of domestic life. When the American revolution was on the eve of its commence- ment, he was appointed, on the 30th of June, 1775, by the conti- nental congress, colonel of the 3d regiment of New- York forces. On the 25th of October following, he was appointed by the pro- vincial congress of New-York, colonel of the regiment of foot in Ulster county; on the 8th of March, 1776, by the continental con- gress, colonel of the second battalion of New-York troops; and, on the 9th of August, 1776, a brigadier-general in the army of the United States; in which station he continued during the gi-eatest part of the war, having the command of the New-York line, or the troops of that state; and at its close he was constituted a ma- jor-general. In 1775, his regiment composed part of the army under general Montgomery, which invaded Canada; and he participated in all the fatigues, dangers, and privations of that celebrated but unfor- , tunate expedition. In October, 1777, he commanded at Fort Clinton, which, to- gether with its neighbor, Foi't Montgomery, constituted the defence of the Hudson river, against the ascent of an enemy. His bro- ther, the governor, commanded in chief at both forts. Sir Henry Clinton, with a view to create a diversion in favor of general Bur- goyne, moved up the Hudson, with an army of four thousand men, and attacked those works, which were very imperfectly fortified, and only defended by five hundred men, composed principally of militia. After a most gallant resistance, the forts were carried by storm. General Clinton was tlae last man who left the works, and not until he was severely wounded by the thrust of a bayonet, pur- 19* 214 JAMES CLINTON. sued and fired at by the enemy, and his attending servant killed. He bled profusely, and when he dismounted from his war horse, in order to effect his escape from the enemy, who were close on him, it occurred to him that he must either perish on the mountains or be captured, unless he could supply himself with another horse; an animal which sometimes roamed at large in that wild region. In this emergency, he took the bridle from his horse and slid down a precipice of one hundred feet to the ravine of the creek which separated the forts, and feeling cautiously his way along its pre- cipitous banks, he reached the mountain at a distance from the enemy, after having fallen into the stream, the cold water of which arrested a copious efTusion of blood. The return of light furnish- ed him with the sight of a horse, which conveyed him to his house, about sixteen miles from the fort, where he arrived about noon, covered with blood, and laboring under a severe fever. In his helpless condition the British passed up the Hudson, within a few miles of his house, and destroyed the town of Kingston. The cruel ravages and horrible irruptions of the Iroquois, or Six Nations of Indians, on our frontier settlements, rendered it necessary to inflict a terrible chastisement, which would prevent a repetition of their atrocities. An expedition was accordingly planned, and the principal command was committed to general Sul- livan, who was to proceed up the Susquehannali, with the main body of the army, while general Clinton was to join him by the way of the Mohawk. The Iroquois inhabited, or occasionally occupied, that immense and fertile region which composes the western parts of New-York and Pennsylvania, and besides their own ravages, from the vici- nity of their settlements to the inhabited parts of the United States, they facilitated the inroads of the more remote Indians. When general Sullivan was on his way to the Indian country, he was joined by general Clinton, with upwards of sixteen hundred men. The latter had gone up the Mohawk in batteaux, from Schenec- tady, and after ascending that river about forty-four miles, he con- veyed his batteaux from Canajoharie to the head of Otsego lake, one of the sources of the Susquehannah. Finding the stream of water in that river too low to float his boats, he erected a dam across the mouth of the lake, which soon rose to the altitude of the dam. JAMES CLINTON. 215 Having got his batteaux ready, he opened a passage through the dam for the water to flow. This raised the river so high that he was enabled to embark all his troops, to float them down to Tioga, and to join general Sullivan in good season. The Indians collec- ted their strength at Newton, took possession of proper ground, and fortified it with judgment; and on the 29th of August, 1779, an attack was made on them, their works were forced, and their con- sternation was so great that they abandoned all further resistance; for, as the Americans advanced into their settlements, they re- treated before them without throwing any obstructions in their way. The army passed between the Cayuga and Seneca lakes, by Geneva and Canandaigua, and as far west as the Genesee ri- ver, destroying large settlements, and villages, and fields of corn, orchards of fruit trees, and gardens abounding with esculent veg- etables. The progress of the Indians in agriculture, struck the Americans with astonishment. Many of their ears of corn meas- ured twenty-two inches in length. They had horses, cows, and hogs, in abundance. They manufactured salt and sugar, raised the best apples and peaches, and their dwellings were large and commodious. The desolation of their settlements, the destruction of their provisions, and the conflagration of their houses, drove them to the British fortresses of Niagara for subsistence, where living on salt provisions, to which they were unaccustomed, they died in great numbers; and the effect of this expedition was, to di- minish their population, to damp their ardor, to check their arro- gance, to restrain their cruelty, and to inflict an irrecoverable blow on their resources of extensive aggression. For a considerable portion of the war, general Clinton was sta- tioned at Albany, where he commanded in the norther ndepartment of the union, a place of high responsibility, and requiring uncom- mon vigilance and continual exertion. An incident occurred when on this command, which strongly illustrates his character. A re- giment which had been ordered to march, mutinied under arms, and peremptorily refused obedience. The general, on being ap- prised of this, immediately repaired, with his pistols, to the ground ; he went up to the head of the regiment and ordered it to march ; a silence ensued, and the order was not complied with. He then presented a pistol to the breast of a sergeant, who was the ringlea- 216 JAMES CLINTON. der, and commanded him to proceed, on pain of death j and so on in succession along tlie line ,• and his command was in every instance obeyed, and the regiment restored to entire and complete subordi- nation and submission. General Clinton was at the siege of York-Town, and the cap- ture of Cornwallis, where he distinguished himself by his usual intrepidity. His last appearance in arms was on the evacuation of the city of New- York. by the British. He then bid the com- mander-in-chief, a final and affectionate adieu, and retired to his ample estates, where he enjoyed that repose which was required by a long period of fatigue and privation. He was, however, frequently called from his retirement, by the unsolicited voice of his fellow-citizens, to perform civic duties. — He was appointed a commissioner to adjust the boundary line be- tween Pennsylvania and New-York, which important measure was amicably and successfully accomplished. He was also selected by the legislature for an interesting mission to settle controversies about lands in the west, which also terminated favorably. He represented his native county in the assembly and in the conven- tion that adopted the present constitution of the United States, and lie was elected, without opposition, a senator from the Middle district; all which trusts he executed with perfect integrity, with solid intelligence, and with the full approbation of his constituents. The temper of general Clinton was mild and affectionate, but when raised by unprovoked or unmerited injury, he exhibited ex- traordinary and appalling energy. In battle he was as cool and as collected as if sitting by his fire-side. Nature intended him for a gallant and efficient soldier, when she endowed him with the fac- ulty of entire self-possession in the midst of the greatest dangers. He died on the 22dof December, 1812, and was interred in the family burial-place in Orange county, and his monumental stone bears the following inscription : "Underneath are interred the remains of James Clinton, esquire. "He was born the 9th of August, 1736; and died the 22d of December, 1812. "His life was principally devoted to the military service of his country, and he had filled with fidelity and honor several distin- guished civil offices. THOMAS COJVWAY. 217 '•He was an officer in the revolutionary war, and the war pre- cedino-; and at the close of the former was a major-general in the army of the United States. He was a good man and a sincere patriot, performing, in the most exemplary manner, all the duties of life rand he died, as he lived, without fear, and without re- proach." — American Biographical Dictionary. THOMAS CONWAY, Major-General in the American Army. General Thomas Conway was born in Ireland, and went with his parents to France, at the age of six years, and was from his youth, educated to the profession of arms. He had obtained con- siderable reputation as a military officer, and as a man of sound understanding aixl judgment. He arrived from France with am- ple recommendations, and congress appointed him a brigadier- general in May, 1777. He soon became conspicuously inimical to general Washington, and sought occasions to traduce his char- acter. In this he found support from a ' faction in congress, who were desirous that the commander-in-chief should be superseded. The congress not long after elected general Conway to the office of inspector-general to our army, with the rank of major-general, though he had insulted the commander-in-chief, and justified him- self in doing so. This gave umbrage to the brigadiers over whom he was promoted, and they remonstrated to congress against the proceeding, as implicating their honor and character. Conway, now smarting under the imputation of having instigated a hostile faction against the illustrious Washington, and being extremely unpopular among the officers in general, and finding his situation did not accord with his feelings and views, resigned his commis- sion, without having commenced the duties of inspector. He was believed to be an unprincipled intriguer, and after his resignatioc, his calumny and detraction of the commander-in-chief, and army generally, were exercised with unrestrained virulence and outrage. No man was moi'e zealously engaged in the scheme of elevating general Gates to the station of commander-in-chief. His vile in- sinuations and direct assertions, in the public newspapers, and in private conversations, relative to the incapacity of Washingtoi. to conduct the operations of the army, received countenance from 218 ETHAN ALLEN. several members of congress, who were induced to declare their want of confidence in him, and the affair assumed an aspect threat- ening the most disastrous consequences. Conway maintained a correspondence \fvith general Gates on the subject, and in one of his letters he thus expresses himself: "Heaven has been deter- mined to save your country, or a weak general and bad counsellors M'ould have ruined it." He was himself at that time one of the counsellors against whom he so basely inveighs. Envy and malice ever are attendant on exalted genius and merit. But the delusion was of short continuance: the name of Washington proved unas- sailable, and the base intrigue of Conway recoiled with bitterness on his own head. — Thaclicr''s Military Journal. General Cadwallader, of Pennsylvania, indignant at the attempt to vilify the character of Washington, resolved to avenge himself on the aggressor in personal combat. The particulars of thi^ meeting are given in the biography of general Cadwallader. — General Conway, conceiving his wound to be mortal, and believ- ing death to be near, acted honorably in addressing to general Washington, whom he had perfidiously slandered, the following letter of apology : Philadelphia, Feb. 23, 1778. Sir — I find myself just able to hold my 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, esteem, and veneration of these states, whose liberties you have* asserted by your virtues. I airi, with the greatest respect. Your excellency's most obedient and humble servant, THS. CONWAY. ETHAN ALLEN, Brigadier-General in the American Army. General Allen was born in Salisbury, Connecticut, from whence, while he was yet young, his pai'ents emigrated to Ver- ment. By this circumstance he was deprived of the advantages of an early education. But, although he never felt its genial in- ETHAN ALLEN. 219 fiuence, nature had endowed him with strong powers of mind, and when called to take the field, he showed himself an able leader, and an intrepid soldier. At the commencement of the disturbances in Vermont, about the year 1770, he took a most active part in favor of the Green Mountain Boys, as the first settlers were then called, in opposition to the government of New-York. Bold, enterprising, and ambi- tious, he undertook to direct the proceedings of the inhabitant>;, and wrote several pamphlets to display the supposed injustice and oppressive designs of the New-York proceedings. The unculti- vated roughness of his own temper and manners seems to have assisted him in giving a just description of the views and proceed- ings of speculative land-jobbers. His writings produced effects so hostile to the views of the state of New-York, that an act of out- lawry was passed against him, and five hundred guineas were offered for his apprehension. But his party was too numerous and faithful, to permit him to be disturbed by any apprehensions for his safety. In all the struggles of the day he was successful, and proved a valuable friend to those whose cause he had espoused. The news of the battle of Lexington determined Allen to en- gage on the side of his country, and inspired him with the desire of demonstrating his attachment to liberty by some bold exploit. While in this state of mind, a plan for taking Ticonderoga and Crown Point by surprise, which was formed by several gentlemen in Connecticut, was communicated to him, and he readily engaged in the project. Receiving directions from the general assembly of Connecticut, to raise the Green Mountain Boys and conduct the enterprise, he collected two hundred and thirty of the hardy set- tlers, and proceeded to Castleton. Here he was unexpectedly joined by colonel Arnold, who had been commissioned by the Massachusetts committee to raise four hundred men, and effect the same object which was now about to be accomplished. They reached the lake, opposite Ticonderoga, on the evening of the 9th * of May, 1775. With the utmost difficulty boats were procured, and eighty-three men were landed near the garrison. Arnold now wished to assume the command and lead on the men ; but Allen objected, and it was agreed that they should both advance together. The following is Allen's own account of the affair: — 220 ETHAN ALLEN. "It was with the utmost difficulty that I procured boats to cross the lake. However, I landed eighty-three men near the garrison, and sent the boats back for the rearguard, commanded by colonel Seth Warner; but the day began to dawn, and I found myself ne- cessitated to attack the fort before the rear guard could cross the lake ; and as it was viewed hazardous, I harangued the officers and soldiers in the manner following: 'Friends and fellow-citizens, you have for a number of years past been a scourge and terror to arbitrary powers. Your valor has been famed abroad, and ac- knowledged, as appears by the advice and orders to me from the general assembly of Connecticut, to surprise and take the garrison now before 'US. I now propose to advance before you, and in per- son conduct )^ou through the wicket-gate; for we must this morning either quit our pretensions to valor, or possess ourselves of this fortress in a few minutes; and inasmuch as it is a desperate at- tempt, which none but the bravest of men dare undertake, I do not urge it on any contrary to his will. You that, will undertake voluntarily, poise your firelocks.' "The men being at this time drawn up in three ranks, each, poised his firelock. I ordered them to face to the right, and at the head of the centre file, marched them immediately to the wicket- gate aforesaid, where I found a sentry posted, who instantly snap- ped his fusee at me. I ran immediately towards him, and he re- treated through the covered way into the parade within the garri- son, gave a halloo, and ran under a bomb-proof My party, who followed me into the fort, I formed on the parade in such a manner as to face the barracks, which faced each other. The garrison be- ing asleep, except the sentries, we gave three huzzas, which greatly surprised them. One of the sentries made a pass at one of my officers with a charged bayonet, and slightly wounded him. My first thought was to kill him with my sword, but in an instant I al- tered the design and fury of the blow to a slight cut on the side of the head ; upon which he dropped his gun and asked quarters, which I readily granted him ; and demanded the place where the commanding officer kept. He showed me a pair of stairs in the front of the garrison, which led up to a second story in said bar- racks, to which I immediately repaired, and ordered the comman- der, captain Delaplace, to come forth instantly, or I would sacrifice ETHAN ALLEX. 221 the whole garrison; at which time the captain came immediately to the door with his breeches in his liand, when I ordered him to deliver tome the fort instantly ; he asked me by What authority I demanded it. I answered him, 'In the nanle of the Great Jehovah and the continental congress.' The authority of congress beino^ very little known at that time, he began to speak again; but I in- terrupted him, and with my drawn sword near his head, again de- manded an immediate surrender of the garrison; with which he then complied, and ordered his men to be forthwith paraded with- out arms, as he had given up the garrison. In the mean time, some of my officers had given orders, and in consequence thereof, sundry of the barrack doors were beat down, and about one-third of the garrison imprisoned, which consisted of said commander, a lieutenant Feltham, a conductor of artillery, a gunner, two ser- geants, and forty-four rank and file ; abopt one hundred pieces of cannon, one thirteen inch mortar, and a number of swivels- This surprise was carried into execution in the gray of the morning on the 10th of May, 1776. The sun seemed to rise that morning with a superior lustre ; and Ticonderoga and its dependencies smiled on its conquerors, who tossed about the flowing bowl, and wished success to congress, and the liberty and freedom of Amer- ica. Happy it was for me, at that time, that the future pages of fate, which afterwards unfolded a miserable scene of two years and eight months' imprisonment, were' hid from my view." This brilliant exploit secured to Allen a high reputation for in- trepid valor throughout the country. In the fall of 1775, he was sent twice into Canada to observe the dispositions of the people, and attach them, if possible, to the American cause. During one of these excursions, he made a rash and romantic attempt upon Montreal. He had been sent by general Montgomery, with a guard of eighty men, on a tour into the villages in the neighbor- hood. On his return he was met by a major Brown, who had been on the same business. It was agreed between them to make a descent upon the island of Montreal, Allen was to cross the riv- er, and land with his party a little north of the city ; while Brown was to pass over a little to the south, with near two hundred men. Allen crossed the river in the night, as had been proposed ; but by some means, Brown and his party failed. Instead of return- 20 222 ETHAN ALLEN. ing, Allen, with greatrashness, concluded to maintain his ground. General Carlton soon received intelligence of Allen's situation and the smallness of his numbers, and marched out against him with about forty regulars, and a considerable number of English, Canadians and Indians, amounting, in the whole, to some hun- dreds. Allen attempted to defend himself, but it was to no pur- pose. Being deserted by several of his men, and having fifteen killed, he, with thirty-eight of his men, were taken prisoners. He was now kept for some time in irons, and was treated with the most rigorous and unsparing cruelty. From his narrative, it appears that the irons placed on him were uncomm.only heavy, and so fastened, that he could not lie down otherwise than on his back, A chest was his seat by day and his bed by night. Soon after his capture, still loaded with irons, he was sent to England, being assured that the halter would be the reward of his rebellion when he arrived there. Finding that threats and menaces had no effect upon him, high command and a large tract of the conquered country, were afterwards offered him, on condition that he would join the British. To the last he replied, "that he viewed their of- fer of conquered United States land to be similar to that which the devil offered to Jesus Christ: to give him all the kingdoms of the world, if he would fall down and worship him, when, at the same time, the poor devil had not one foot of land upon earth." After his arrival, about the middle of December, he was lodged, for a short time, in Pendennis castle, near Falmouth. On the 8th of January, 1776, he was put on board a frigate, and by a circu- itous route again carried to Halifax. Here he remained closely confined in the jail from June to October, when he was removed to New-York. During the passage to this place, captain Burke, a daring prisoner, proposed to kill the British captain, and seize the frigate ; but Allen refused to engage in the plot, and was pro- bably the means of saving the life of captain Smith, who had trea- ted him with kindness. He was kept at New-York about a year and a half, sometimes imprisoned, and sometimes permitted to be on parole. While here, he had an opportunity to observe the in- human manner in which the American prisoners were treated. — In one of the churches in which they were crowded, he saw seven lying dead at one time, and others biting pieces of chips fromhun- i JOHN CADWALADER. 223 ger. He calculated, that of the prisoners taken on Long Island and at Fort Washington, near two thousand perished by hunger and cold, or in consequence of diseases occasioned by the impuri- ty of their prisons. Colonel Allen was exchanged for a colonel Campbell, May tith, 1778, and after having repaired to head-quarters, and offered his services to general Washington, in case his health should be res- tored, he returned to Vermont. His arrival on the evening of the last day of May, gave his friends great joy, and it was announced by the discharge of cannon. As an expression of confidence in liis patriotism and military talents, he was very soon appointed to the command of the state militia. His intrepidity, however, was never again brought to the test, though his patriotism was tried by an unsuccessful attempt of the British to bribe him to attempt a union of Vermont with Canada. He died suddenly on his estate, February 13th, 1789. General Allen w-as brave, humane, and generous ; yet his con- duct does not seem to have been much influenced by considera- tions respecting that holy and merciful Being, whose character and whose commands are disclosed to us in the scriptures. His notions with regard to religion were loose and absurd. He be- lieved with Pythagoras, the heathen philosopher, that man, after death, would transmigrate into beasts, birds, fishes, reptiles, &lc. and often informed his friends that he himself expected to live a- £ain in the form of a laro;e white horse. JOHN CADWALADER, Brigadier-General in the American Army. This zealous and inflexible friend of America was born in Phil- adelphia, 1742. He was distinguished for his intrepidity as a soldier, in upholding the cause of freedom during the most dis- couraging periods of danger and misfortune that America ever be- held. At the dawn of the revolution, he commanded a corps of volun- teers, designated as ^'the silk stocking company,'''' of wbihich met at Jacksonburgh in 17S2. General Gadsden continued in the country throughout the year 1782, serving as one of the governor's council. On the 14th of December, 1782, he, with the American army and citizens, made their triumphant entry into Charleston in the rear of the evacua- ting British. In the first moment of his return, after an absence of more than two years, he had the pleasure of seeing the British 236 DANIEL MORGAN. fleet, upward of three hundred sail, in the act of departing from the port, and the capital, as well as the country, restored to its proper owners. Mr. Gadsden henceforward devoted himself to private pursuits, but occasionally served in the assembly, and with unspeakable delight in the two state conventions ; the one for the ratification of the national constitution in 1788, and the other for revising the state constitution in 1790. He survived his 81st year, generally enjoying good health, and at last died, more from the consequences of an accidental fall than the weight of disease, or decays of nature. His opinions of lawyers were not favorable. He considered their pleadings as generally tending to obscure what was plain, and to make difficulties where there were none; and much more sub- servient to render their trade lucrative than to advance justice. He adhered to that clause of Mr. Locke's fundamental constitu- tion, which makes it "a base and vile thing to plead for money or reward;" and wished that the lawyers, when necessary to justice, should be provided with salaries at the public expense, like the judges, that they might be saved from the shame of hiring their tongues to the first who offered or gave the largest fee. Of phy- sicians he thought very little. He considered temperance and ex- ercise superior to all their prescriptions, and that in most cases they rendered them altogether unnecessary. In many things he was particular. His passions were strong, and required all hi? religion and philosophy to curl) them. His patrioiism was both disinterested and ardent. He declined all offices of profit, and through life refused to take the compensations annexed by law to such offices of trust as were conferred on him. His character was impressed with the hardihood of antiquity ; and he possessed an erect, firm, intrepid mind, which was well calculated for buffeting with revolutionary storms. — Ramsay's History of S. Carolina. DANIEL MORGAN, Brigadier-General IN the American Army. General Morgan was the creator of his own fortune. Bora of poor, though honest parents, he enjoyed none of the advanta- ges which result from wealth and early education. But his was a spirit that would not tamely yield to difficulties. DANIEI. MORGAN. 237 He was born in New- Jersey, where, from his poverty and low condition, he had been a day-laborer. To early education and breeding, therefore, he owed nothing. But for this deficiency, his native sagacity and sound judgment, and his intercourse with the best society, made much amends in after life. "Enterprising in his disposition, even now he removed to Vir- ginia in 1755, with a hope and expectation of improving his for- tune. Here he continued, at first, his original business of day -la- bor; but exchanged it afterward for the employment of a wagoner. "His military novitiate he served in the campaign under the un- fortunate Braddock. The rank he bore is not precisely known. It must, however, have been humble; for, in consequence of im- puted contumely towards a British officer, he was brought to the halbert, and received the inhuman punishment of five hundred lashes ; or, according to his own statement,, of four hundred and ninety-nine; for he always asserted that the drummer charged \vith the execution of the sentence, miscounted, and jocularly ad- ded, 'That George the Third was still indebted to him one lash.' To the honor of Morgan, he never practically remembered this savage treatment during the revolutionary war. Towards the British officers whom the fortune of battle placed within his power, his conduct was humane, mild and gentlemanly. "After his return from this campaign, so inordinately was he ad- dicted to quarrels and boxing matches, that the village of Berrys- town, in the county of Frederick, which constituted the chief the- atre of his pugilistic exploits, received, from this circumstance, the name of Battletown. "In these combats, although frequently overmatched in personal strength, he manifested the same unyielding spirit which charac- terized him afterward in his military career. When worsted by his antagonist, he would pause for a time, to recruit his strength, and then return to the contest, again and again, until he rarely failed to prove victorious. "Equally marked was his invincibility of spirit in maturer age, when raised, by fortune and his own merit, to a higher and more honorable field of action. Defeat in battle he rarely experienced; but when he did, his retreat was sullen, stern, and dangerous. "The commencement of the American revolution found Mr. 21* 238 DANIEL MORGAN. Morgan married and cultivating a farm, which, by industry and economy, he had been enabled to purchase, in the county of Fred- erick. ^Placed at the head of a rifle company, raised in his neighbor- liood in 1775, he marched immediately to the American head- quarters in Cambridge, near Boston. By order of the commander-in-chief, he soon afterward joined in the expedition against Quebec, and was made prisoner in the attempt on that fortress, where Arnold was wounded, and Mont- gomery fell. During the assault, his daring valor and persever- ing gallantry attracted the notice and admiration of the enemy. "The assailing column to which he belonged, was led by major Arnold. When that othcer was wounded, and carried from the ground, Morgan threw himself into the lead, and, rushing forward, passed the first and second barriers. For a moment. Victory ap- peared certain. But the fall of Montgomery closing the prospect, the assailants were repulsed, and the enterprise abandoned. Dur- ing his captivity, captain Morgan was treated with great kindness, and not a little distinction. He was repeatedly visited in confine- ment by a British officer of rank, who at length made an attempt on his patriotism and virtue, by offering him the commission and emoluments of colonel in the British army, on condition that he would desert the American and join the royal standard. "Morgan rejected the proposal with scorn, and requested the courtly and corrupt negotiator 'never again to insult him in his misfortunes by an oflfer which plainly implied that he thought him a villain.' The officer withdrew, and did not again recur to the subject. "On being exchanged, Morgan immediately re-joined the Amer- ican army, and received, by the recommendation of general Wash- ington, the command of a regiment. "In the year 1777, he was placed at the head of a select rifle corps, with which, in various instances, he acted on the enemy with terrible effect. His troops were considered the most danger- ous in the American service. To confront them in the field was almost certain death to the British officers. "On the occasion of the capture of Burgoyne, the exertions and services of colonel Morgan and his riflemen were beyond all DANIEL MORGAN. 239 praise. Much of the glory of the achievement belonged to them. Yet so gross was the injustice of general Gates, that he did not even mention them in his official despatches. His reason for -this was secret and dishonorable. Shortly after the surrender of Bur- goyne, general Gates took occasion to hold with Morgan a private conversation. In the course of this he told him confidentially, that the main army was exceedingly dissatisfied with the conduct of general Washington ; that the reputation of the commander-in- chief was rapidly declining; and that several officers of great worth threatened to resign, unless a change was produced in that department. "Colonel Morgan fathoming in an instant the views of his com- manding officer, sternly, and with honest indignation, replied, "Sir, I have one favor to ask. Never again mention to me this hateful subject; under no other man but general Washington, as' commander-in-chief, will I ever serve.' From that moment ceased the intimacy that had previously subsisted between him and general Gates. "A few daj's afterward the general gave a dinner to the princi- pal officers of the British, and some of those of the American ar- my. Morgan was not invited. In the course of the evening, that officer found it necessary to call on general Gates, on official busi- ness. Being introduced into the dining room, he spoke to the gen- eral, received his orders, and immediately withdrew, his name un- announced. Perceiving, from his dress, that he was of high rank, the British officers inquired his name. Being told that it was colonel Morgan, commanding the rifle corps, they rose from the table, followed him into the yard, and introduced themselves to him, with many complimentary and flattering expressions, declar- ing that, on the day of action, they had very severely felt him in the field. "In 1780, having obtained leave of absence from the army on account of the shattered condition of his health, he retired to his estate in the county of .Frederick, and remained tTiere until the appointment of general Gates to the command of the southern ar- my. Being waited on by the latter, and requested to accompany him, he reminded him, in expressions marked by resentment, of the unworthy treatment he had formerly experienced from him, in 240 DANIEL MORGAN. return for the important services which, he did not hesitate to as- sert, he had rendered him in his operations against the army of general Burgoyne. Having received no acknowledgement, nor even civility, for aiding to decorate him with laurels in the north, he frankly declared that there were no considerations, except of a public nature, that could induce him to co-operate in his campaigns to the south. 'Motives of public good might influence himj be- cause his country had a claim on him, in any quarter where he could promote her interest ; but personal attachment must not be expected to exist where he had experienced nothing but neglect, and injustice.' The two officers parted, mutually dissatisfied ; the one on account of past treatment; the other, of the recent inter- view. "In the course of a few weeks afterward, congress having pro- moted colonel Morgan to the rank of brigadier-general by brevet,, with a view to avail themselves of his services in the south, he proceeded without delay to join the army of general Gates. But he was prevented from serving any length of time under that offi- cer, by his defeat near Camden, before his arrival^ and his being soon afterward superseded in command by general Greene. "Soon after taking command of the southern army, general Greene despatched general Morgan with four hundred continen- tals under colonel Howard, colonel Washington's corps of dragoons,, and a few militia, amounting in all to about six hundred, to take position on the left of the British army, then lying at Winnsbo- rough, under lord Cornwallis, while he took post about seventy miles to his right. This judicious disposition excited his lordship's apprehensions for the safety of Ninety-Six and Augusta, British posts, which he considered as menaced by the movements of Mor- gan. "Colonel Tarleton, with a strong detachment, amounting, in horse and foot, to near a thousand men, was immediately des- patched by Cornwallis to the protection of Ninety-Six, with or- ders to bring general Morgan, if possible, to battle. To the ardent temper and chivalrous disposition of the British colonel, this direc- tion was perfectly congenial. Greatly superior in numbers, he advanced on Morgan with a menacing aspect, and compelled him, at first, to fall back rapidly. But the retreat cf the American DAXIEL MORGAN. 241 commander was not long continued. Irritated by pursuit, rein- forced by a body of militia, and reposing great confidence in the spirit and firmness of his regular troops, he halted at the Cowpens, and determined to gratify his adversary in his eagerness for com- bat. This was on the night of the 10th of January, 1781. Ear- ly in the morning of the succeeding day, Tarleton, being apprised of the situation of Morgan, pressed towards him with a redoubled rapidity, lest, by renewing his retreat, he should again elude him. "But Morgan now had other thoughts than those of flight. Al- ready had he, for several days, been at war with himself in rela- tion to his conduct. Glorying in action, his spirit recoiled frora the humiliation of retreat, and his resentment was roused by the insolence of pursuit. This mental conflict becoming more intol- erable to him than disaster or death, his courage triumphed, per- haps, over his prudence, and he resolved on putting every thing to the hazard of the sword. '•By mihtary men who have studied the subject, his disposition lor battle is said to have been masterly. Two light parties of mi- litia were advanced in front, with orders to feel the enemy as they approached ; and preserving a desultory, well-aimed fire, as they fell back to the front line, to range with it, and renew the conflict. The main body of the militia composed this line, with general Pickens at its head. At a suitable distance in the rear of the first line, a second was stationed, composed of the continental infantry and two companies of Virginia militia, commanded by colonel How-^ ard. Washington's cavalry, reinforced with a company of moun- ted militia, armed with sabres, was held in reserve, ''Posting himself then in the line of the regulars, he waited in silence the advance of the enemy. "Tarleton coming in sight, hastily formed his disposition for bat- tle, and commenced the assault. Of this conflict, the following picture is from the pen of general Lee : "The American light parties quickly yielded, fell back, and ar- rayed with Pickens. The enemy shouting, rushed forward upon the front line, which retained its station, and poured in a close fire; but continuing to advance with the bayonet on our militia, they re- _ tired, and gained with haste the second line. Here, with part of the corps, Pickens took post on Howard's right, and the rest fled } 242 DANIEL MORGAN. to their horses, probably with orders to remove them to a further distance. Tarleton pushed forward, and was received by his ad- versary v/ith unshaken firmness. The contest became obstinate; and each party, animated by the example of its leader, nobly con- tended for victory. Our line maintained itself so firmly as to oblige the enemy to order up his reserve. The advance of M' Ar- thur reanimated the British line, which again moved forward, and outstretching our front, endangeredcolonel Howard's right. This officer instantly took measures to defend his flank, by directing his right company to change its front; but mistaking this order, the company fell back; upon which the line began to retire, and gene- ral Morgan directed it to retreat to the cavalry. This manceuvre being performed with precision, our flank became relieved, and the new position was assumed with promptitude. Considering this retrograde movement the precursor of flight, the British line rushed on with impetuosity and disorder ; but as it drew near, How- ard faced about, and gave it a close and murderous fire. Stunned by this unexpected shock, the most advanced of the enemy re- coiled in confusion. Howard seized the happy moment, and fol- lowed his advantage with the bayonet. This decisive step gave us the day. The reserve having been brought near the line, sha- red in the destruction of our fire, and presented no rallying poiiit to the fugitives. A part of the enemy's cavalry having gained our rear, fell on that portion of the militia who had retired to their horses. Washington struck at them with his dragoons, and drove them before him. Thus, by a simultaneous effort, the infantr}"" and cavalry of the enemy were routed. Morgan pressed home his success, and the pursuit became vigorous and general.' "In this decisive battle we lest about seventy men, of whom twelve only were killed. The British infantry, with the exception of the baggage guard, were nearly all killed or taken. One hun- dred, including ten ofiicers, were killed; twenty-three officers and five hundred privates were taken. The artillery, eight hundred muskets, two standards, thirty-five baggage wagons, and one hun- dred dragoon horses, fell into our possession." In this battle, sa glorious to the American arms, Tarleton had every advantage in point of ground, cavalry and numbers, aided by two pieces of tirtillery. JOHN STARK. 243 Soon after this brilliant exploit, frequent attacks of rheumatism compelled general Morgan to retire from the army, and he returned to his seat in Frederick, Virginia, where he continued in retire- ment until the insurrection in the western part of Pennsylvania, in 1794, when he was detached by the executive of Virginia, at the head of the militia quota of that state, to suppress it. This done, he returned into the bosom of his family, where he remained until death closed his earthly, career, in 1799. "There existed in the character of general Morgan a singular contradiction, which is worthy of notice. Although in battle no man was ever more prodigal of the exposure of his person to dan- ger, or manifested a more deliberate disregard for death; yet so strong was his love of life at other times, that he has been fre- quently heard to declare, 'he would agree to pass half his time as a galley-slave, rather than quit this world for another.' "The following outline of his person and character is from the pen of a military friend, who knew him intimately: 'Brigadier- general Morgan was stout and active, six feet in height, strong, not too much encumbered with flesh, and was exactly fitted for the toils and pomp of war. His mind was discriminating and solid, but not comprehensive and combining: his manners plain and de- corous, neither insinuating nor repulsive; his conversation grave, sententious and considerate, unadorned and uncaptivating. He reflected deeply, spoke little, and executed with keen persever- ance whatever he undertook. He was indulgent in his military command, preferring always the affections of his troops, to that dread and awe which surrounded the rigid disciplinarian.' ''A considerable time before his death, when the pressure of infirmity began to be heavy, he became seriously concerned g,bout his future welfare. From that period, his chief solace lay in the study of the scriptures, and in devotional exercises. He died in the belief of the truths of Christianity, and in full communion with the Presbyterian church." — Life of Greene. JOHN STARK, Brigadier-General in the American Army. General Stark was a native of New-Hampshire, and was born in Londonderry, August 17th, 1728. From his early youth he 244 JOHN STARK. had been accustomed to the alarm of war, having lived in that part of the country which was continually subject to the incursions of the savages. While a child, he was captured by them, and adopted as one of their own; but after a few years was restored. Arrived at manhood, his manners were plain, honest, and se- vere; excellen' ly calculated for the benefit of society in the private walks of life; and as a courageous and heroic soldier, he is enti- tled to a high rank among those who have been crowned with unfading laurels, and to whom a large share of glory is justly due. He was captain of a company of rangers in the provincial service during the French war, in 1755. From the commencement of the difficulties with the mother country, until the closing scene of the revolution, our country found in general Stark, one of her most resolute, independent, and per- severing defenders. The first call of his country found him ready. When the report of Lexington battle reached him, he was engaged at Avork in his saw-mill. Fired with indignation and a martial spirit, he immediately seized his musket, and with a band of heroes proceeded to Cambridge. The morning after his arrival, he re- ceived a colonel's commission, and availing himself of his own popularity, and the enthusiasm of the day, in two hours he enlisted eight hundred men. On the memorable 17th of June, at Breed's Hill, colonel Stark, at the head of his backwoodsmen of New- Hampshire, poured on the enemy that deadly fire, from a sure aim, which effected such remarkable destruction in their ranks, and compelled them twice to retreat. During the whole of this dreadful conflict, colonel Stark evinced that consummate bravery and intrepid zeal, which entitle his name to lasting remembrance. His spirit pervaded his native state, and excited them to the most patriotic efforts. The British general Burgoyne in one of his letters observes, that "the New-Hampshire grants, alniost unknown in the last war, now abound in the most active and most rebellious race on the continent, and hang like a gathering storm upon my left.'' Distinct from his efforts in rallying the energies of his native state, he obtahied great credit in the active operations of the field. At that gloomy period of the revolution, the retreat of Washington through New-Jersey, in 1776, when the saviour of our country, apparently 43eserted of heaven and by his country, with the few JOHN STARK. 245 gallant spirits who gathered the closer around him in that dark hour, precipitately fled before an imperious and victorious enemy; St was on this occasion that the persevering valor of Stark enrolled him among the fii'm and resolute defenders of their country ; and, with them, entitles him to her unceasing gratitude. But as he fearlessly shared with Washington the dark and gloomy night of defeat, so also he participated with him in the joy of a bright morning of victory and hope. In the successful enter- prise against Trenton, Stark, then a colonel, acted a conspicuous part, and covered himself with glory. General Wilkinson, in his memoirs, says, "I must not withhold due praise from the dauntless Stark, who dealt death wherever he found resistance, and broke down all opposition before him." Soon after this affair, colonel Stark, from some supposed injus- tice towards him on the part of congress, quitted the continental service, and returned to New-Hampshire. When he was urged by the government of New-Hampshire to take the command of their militia, he refused, unless he should be at liberty to serve, or not, under a continental oflicer, as he should judge proper. It was not a time for debate, and it was known that the militia would follow wherever Stark would lead. The assem- bly therefore vested him with a separate command, and gave him orders to repair to Charlestown, on Connecticut river; and to act in conjunction with the troops of any of the states, or of the United States, or separately, as it should appear expedient to him, for the protection of the people and the annoyance of the enemy. Agreeably to his orders, Stark proceeded, in a few d!ays» co Charlestown; his men very readily followed, and, as fast as they arrived, he sent them forward to join the troops of Vermont under colonel Warner, who had taken his station at Manchester, At that place he joined Warner, with about eight hundred men from New-Hampshire, and found another body of men from Vermont, -who put themselves under his command; and he was at the head of fourteen hundred men. Most of them had been in the two for- mer campaigns, and well officered; and were in every respect, a body of very good troops. Schuyler repeatedly urged Stark to join the troops under his command, but he declined complying. — He was led to this conduct not only by the reasons which have 22 246 JOHN STARK. been mentioned, but by a difference of opinion as to the best method of opposing Burgoyne. Schuyler wished to collect all the Amer- ican troops in the front, to prevent Burgoyne from marching on to Albany. Stark was of opinion that the surest way to check Bur- goyne, was to have a body of men on his rear, ready to fall upon him in that quarter, whenever a favorable opportunity should pre- sent. The New-England militia had not formed a high opinion of Schuyler as a general ; and Stark meant to keep himself in a situ- ation in which he might embrace any favorable opportunity for action, either in conjunction with him, or otherwise; and with that view intended to hang on the rear of the British troops, and era- brace the first opportunity which should present, to make an attack upon that quarter. But Stark assured Schuyler, that he would join any measure necessary to promote the public good, but wished to avoid any thing that was not consistent with his own honor ; and if it was thought necessary, he would march to his camp. He wrote particularly, that he would lay aside all private resentment, when it appeared in opposition to the public good. But in the midst of these protestations he was watching for an opportunity to discover his courage and patriotism, by falling upon some part of Burgoyne's army. While the American army was thus assuming a more respecta- ble appearance, general Burgoyne was making very slow advances towards Albany. From the 28th of July, to the 15th of August, the British army was continually employed in bringing forsvard batteaux, provisions, and ammunition, from Fort George to the first navigable part of Hudson's river, a distance of not more than eighteen miles. The labor was excessive; the Europeans were but little acquainted with the methods of performing it toad- vantage, anfl the effect was in no degree equivalent to the expense of labor and time. With all the efforts that Burgoyne could make, encumbered with his artillery and baggage, his labors were inade- quate to the purpose of supplying the army with provisions for its daily consumption, and the establishment of the necessary maga- zines. And after his utmost exertions for fifteen days, there were not above four days' provisions in the store, nor above ten batteaux in Hudson's river. Iij such circumstances, the British general found that it would JOHJV STARK. 1^7 be impossible to procure sufficient supplies of provisions by the way of Fort George, and determined to replenish his own maga- zines at the expense of those of the Americans. Having received information that a large quantity of stores were laid up at Ben- nington, and guarded only by the militia, he formed the design of surprising that place; and was made to believe that as soon as a detachment of the royal army should appear in that quarter, it would receive effectual assistance from a large body of loyalists, Avho only waited for the appearance of a support, and would in that event come forward and aid the royal cause. Full of these ex- pectations, he detached colonel Baum, a German officer, with a select body of troops, to surprise the place. His force consisted of about five hundred regular troops, some Canadians, and more than one hundred Indians, with two light pieces of artillery. To facilitate their operations, and to be ready to take advantage of the success of the detachment, the royal army moved along the east bank of Fludson's river, and encamped nearly opposite to Saratoga ; having, at the same time, thrown a bridge of rafts over the river, by which the army passed to that place. With a view to support Baum, if it should be found necessary, lieutenant-colonel Brey- man's corps, consisting of the Brunswick grenadiers, infantry, and chasseurs, were posted at Battenkill. General Stark having received information that a party of In- dians were at Cambridge, sent lieutenant-oulonel Greg, on August the 13th, with a party of two hundred men, to stop their progress. Toward night he was informed by express, that a large body of regulars was in the rear of the Indians, and advancing toward Bennington. On this intelligence. Stark drew together his brigade, and the militia that were at hand, and sent on to Manchester, to colonel Warner, to bring on his regiment ; he sent expresses at the same time to the neighboring militia, to join him with the utmost speed. On the morning of the 14th, he marched with his troops, and at the distance of seven miles he met Greg on the retreat, and the enemy within a mile of him. Stark drew up his troops in order of battle ; but the enemy, coming in sight, halted upon a very ad- vantageous piece of ground. Baum perceived the Americans were too strong to be attacked by his present force, and sent an express to Burgoyne, with an account of his situation, and to have 248 JOHN STARK. # Breyman march immediately to support him. In the meantime, small parties of the Americans kept up a skirmish with the enemy, killed and wounded thirty of them, with two of their Indian chiefs, without any loss to themselves. The ground the Americans had taken was unfavorable for a general action, and Stark retreated about a mile and encamped. A council of war was held, and it was agreed to send two detachments upon the enemy's rear, while the rest of the troops should make an attack upon their front. The next day the weather was rainy, and though it prevented a general action, there were frequent skirmishes in small partie?, which proved favorable and encouraging to the Americans. On August the 16th, in the morning, Stark was joined by colo- nel Symonds and a body of militia from Berkshire, and proceeded to attack the enemy, agreeably to the plan which had been con- certed. Colonel Baum in the mean time, had entrenched on ars advantageous piece of ground near St. Koick's mills, on a branch of Hoosic river; and rendered his post as strong as his circumstan- ces and situation would admit. Colonel Nichols was detached with two hundred men to the rear of his left, colonel Herrick with three hundred men to the rear of his right; both M'ere to join, and then make the attack. Colonels Hubbard and Stickney, with two hundred men, were ordered on the right, and one hundred were advanced towards the front, to draw the attention of the enemy that way. About three o'clock in the afternoon, the troops had taken their station, and were ready to commence the action. While Nichols and Herrick were bringing their troops together, the In- dians were alarmed at the prospect, and pushed off between the two corps ; but received a fire as they were passing, by which three of them were killed and two wounded. Nichols then began the at- tack, and was followed by all the other divisions : those in the front immediately advanced, and in a few minutes the attack became general. It lasted about two hours, and was like one continued peal of thunder. Baum made a brave defence; and the German dragoons, after they had expended their ammunition, led by their colonel, charged with their swords, but they were soon overpow- ered. Their works were carried on all sides, their two pieces of cannon were taken, colonel Baum was himself mortally wounded and taken prisoner, and all his men, except a few who had escaped JOHN STARK. 249 into the woods, were either killed or taken prisoners. Having completed the business by taking the whole party, the militia be- gan to disperse and look for plunder. . But in a few minutes Stark received information that a large reinforcement was on their march, and within two miles of him. Fortunately at that moment colonel Warner came up with his regiment from Manchester. This brave and experienced officer commanded a regiment of continen- tal troops, which had been raised in Vermont. Mortified that he had not been in the former engagement, he instantly led on his men against Breyman, and began the second engagement. Stark collected the militia as soon as possible, and pushed on to his as- sistance. The action became general, and the battle continued obstinate on both sides till sunset, when the Germans were forced to give way, and were pursued till dark. They left their two field- pieces behind, and a considerable number were made prisoners. They retreated in the best manner they could, improving the ad- vantages of the evening and night, to which alone their escape was ascribed. In these actions the Americans took four brass field-pieces, twelve brass drums, two hundi'ed and fifty dragoon swords, four ammunition wagons, and about seven hundred prisoners, with their arms and accoutrements. Two hundred and seven men were found dead upon the spot ; the numbers of wounded jjvere unknown. The loss of the Americans was but small ; thirty were slain, and about forty were wounded. Stark was not a little pleased at hav- ing so fair an opportunity to vindicate his own conduct. He had now shown that no neglect from congress, had made him disaffec- ted to the American cause, and that he had rendered a much more important service than he could have done by joining Schuyler, and remaining inactive in his camp. Congress embraced the op- portunity to assign to him his rank; and though he had not given to them any account of his victory, or wrote to them at all upon the subject, on October the fourth, they resolved, "That the thanks of congress be presented to general Stark, of the New-Hampshire militia, and the officers and troops under his command, for their brave and successful attack upon, and signal victory over the ene- my, in their lines at Bennington : and that brigadier Stark be ap- pointed a brigadier-general in the army of the United States." — • 22* 250 JOHN STARK. ^ And never were thanks more deserved, or more wisely given to a military officer. — Williams' Vermont. "In his official account of the affair, general Stark thus writes: 'It lasted two hours, the hottest I ever saw in my life; it represen- ted one continued clap of thunder; however, the enemy were obliged to give way, and leave their field-pieces and all their bag- gage behind them ; they were all environed within two breast-works with artillery; but our martial courage proved too strong for them. I then gave orders to rally again in order to secure the victory ; but in a few minutes was informed, that there was a large reinforce- ment on their march, within two miles. Colonel Warner's regi- ment luckily coming up at the moment, renewed the attack with fresh vigor. I pushed forward as many of the men as I could to their assistance ; the battle continued obstinate on both sides until sunset; the enemy was obliged to retreat; we pursued them till dark, and had day lasted an hour longer, should have taken the whole body of them.' "On what small events does the popular humor and military suc- cess depend ! The capture of one thousand Germans by general Washington, at Trenton, had served to wake up, and save the whole continent. The exploit of Stark, at Bennington, operated with the same kind of influence, and produced a similar effect. This victory was the first event that had proved encouraging to the Americans in the northern department, since the death of general Montgomery. Misfortune had succeeded misfortune, and defeat had followed defeat from that period till now. The present in- stance was the first in which victory had quitted the roj al standard, or seemed even to be wavering. She was now found with the A- nierican arms, and the effect seemed, in fact, to be greater than the cause. It raised the spirit of the country to an uncommon degree of animation ; and by showing the militia what they could perform, rendered them willing and desirous to turn out and try what fortunes would await their exertions. It had a still greater effect on the royal army. Tne British generals were surprised to hear that an enemy whom they had contemplated with no other feelings than those of contempt, should all at once wake up, and discover much of the spirit of heroism. To advance upon the mouth of cannon, to attack fortified lines, to carry strong entrench- OTHO H. WILLIAMS. 251 ments, were exploits which they supposed belonged exclusively to the armies of kings. To see a body of American militia, ill dressed, but little disciplined, without cannon, armed only with farmers' guns without bayonets, and who had been accustomed to flv at their approach ; that such men should force the entrench- ments, capture the cannon, kill and make prisoners of a large body of the royal army, was a matter of indignation, astonish- ment and surprise." — Williams^ Vermont. "General Stark volunteered his services under general Gates at Saratoga, and assisted in the council which stipulated the sur- render of general Burgoyne ; nor did he relinquish his valuable services till he could greet his native country as an independent empire. General Stark was of the middle stature, not formed by nature to exhibit an erect soldierly mien. His manners were frank and unassuming, but he manifested a peculiar sort of eccen- tricity and negligence, which precluded all display of personal dignity and seemed to place him among those of ordinary rank in life. His character as a private citizen, was unblemished, and he was ever held in respect. For the last few years of his life, he enjoyed a pecuniary bounty from the government. He lived to the advanced age of ninety-three years eight months and twen- four days, and died May 8th, 1823. — Thacker's Journal. OTHO H. WILLIAMS, Brigamer-Genekal in the American Arjiy. This gentleman was formed for eminence in any station. His talents were of a high order, and his attainments various and ex- tensive. Possessing a person of uncommon symmetry, and pe- culiarly distinguished by the elegance of his manners, he would have graced alike a court or a camp. "Rich in that species of military science which is acquired by experience, and a correct, systematic, and severe disciplinarian, general Greene confided to him the important trust of adjutant- general in the southern army. The services which, in this and other capacities, he rendered to that division of the American for- ces, in the course of their toilsome and perilous operations, wore beyond all praise. *'He was born in the county of Prince George, in the year 1748, 252 OTHO H. WILLIAMS. and received, during his youtli, but a slender education. Tliis iie so much improved by subsequent study, that few men had a finer taste, or a more cuhivated intellect. "He commenced his military career as lieutenant of a rifle com- pany in 1775,- and, in the course of the following year, was pro- moted to the rank of a major in a rifle regiment. "In this course he very honorably distinguished himself in the defence of Fort Washington, on York Island, when assaulted by Sir William Howej and, on the surrender of that post, became a prisoner. Having suffered much by close confinement during his captivity, he was exchanged for major Ackland, after the capture of Burgoyne, and immediately rejoined the standard of his coun- try. "Being now promoted to the rank of colonel of a regiment of infantry, he was detached, under Baron De Kalb, to the army of the south. General Gates having been appointed to the command of this division of the American forces, he was present with that officer at the defeat before Camden; and during the action mani- fested great valor and skill, in directing and leading the operations against the enemy, while resistance was practicable; and an e- qual degree of self-possession and address, in conducting the troops from the field, when compelled to retreat. But as an officer, his valor and skill in battle were among the lowest of his qualifica- tions. His penetration and sagacity, united to a profound judg- ment and capacious mind, rendered him in the cabinet particular- ly valuable. Hence he was one of general Greene's favorite counsellors, during the whole of his southern campaigns. Nor did any thing ever occur, either through neglect or mistake, to in;- pair the confidence thus reposed in him. In no inconsiderable de- gree, he was to Greene, what that officer had been to general Wash- ington, his strongest hope in all emergencies, where great policy and address were required. "This was clearly manifested by the post assigned to hira by general Greene, during his celebrated retreat through North Car- olina. In that great and memorable movement, on which tlie fate of the south was staked, to Williams was confided the command of the rear guard, which was literally the shield and rampart of the army. Had he relaxed, but for a moment, in his vigilance and ex- EUFtrS PUTNAM. 253 ertion, or been guilty of a single imprudent act, ruin must have ensued. Nor was his command much less momentous, when, re- crossino- the Dan, Greene again advanced on the enemy. Still in the post of danger and honor, he now, in the van of the army, com- manded the same corps with which he had previously moved in the rear. '•'A military friend who knew him well, has given us the follow- ing summary of his character : '•He possessed that range of mind, although self-educated, which entitled him to the highest military station, and was ac- tuated by true courage, which can refuse, as well as give battle. Soaring far above the reach of vulgar praise, he singly aimed at promoting the common weal, satisfied with the consciousness of doing right, and desiring only that share of applause which was justly his own. • There was a loftiness and liberality in his char- acter, which forbade resort to intrigue and hypocrisy in the acccm- plishment of his views, and rejected the contemptible practice of disparaging others to exalt himself In the field of battle he was self- possessed, intelligent, and ardent; in camp, circumspect, attentive^ and systematic ; in council, sincere, deep, and perspicuous. Dur- ing the campaigns- of general Greene, he was uniformly one of his few advisers, and held his unchanged confidence. Nor was he less esteemed by his brother officers, or less respected by his sol- *liery. "' -•Shortly before the close of the war, he was promoted to the rank of brigadier-general." — Life of General Greene. RUFUS PUTNAM, Brigadier-General in the American Army. General Rufus Putnam was born in the town of Sutton, in the state of Massachusetts, in the month of April, 1738. His im- mediate progenitors were from Danvers, in the same state, where Mr. John Putnam, from England, settled ; being among the first pilgrims that arrived in North America — from whom all the Put- nams (as far as it is known) in the United States took their origin. At the early age of seven years, Rufus Putnam had the misfortune to lose his father, and was thrown upon the world an orphan. His advantages of edixation were extremely limited ; perhaps not to 254 RUFUS PUTNAM. exceed six months of common schooling. Notwithstanding such unfavorable circumstances, possessing strong powers of mind, and an insatiable desire after knowledge, by improving leisure mo- ments, and hours stolen from sleep, he acquired a respectable fund of useful information. Among other pursuits, he became a first rate mathematician, and made considerable progress in the arts and sciences. Indeed he was truly a self-made man. Such were his acquirements in the various departments of knowledge, that he was enabled to fill, with credit to himself, and advantage to the public, several highly respectable and important offices. At the age of fifteen, he was put an apprentice to the millwright business, and he acquired a competent knowledge of that trade. At the age of nineteen years, he enlisted as a private soldier in the provincial army, which was engaged in the famous French war of 1756. After his discharge, at the close of that war, he and twenty -two'others, in returning home, missed their way, and wan- dered several days in the pathless forests of the northern regions of New-York ; and such was their extremity of suffermg, (in the dead of winter,) that the whole company had no other food^ for eighty hours, but one poor dog, which they devoured even to the bones. The snow, during the whole march, was from four to six feet deep on the ground; which they were enabled to surmount only with rackets, or snow shoes. The company arrived safely at the settlements on Deerfield river, Connecticut, after having en- dured sufferings that are indescribable. After Mr. Putnam returned from the French war, he married and settled in Brookfield, Massachusetts, where he followed his trade and cultivated a small farm, until the commencement of the American revolution. In every sense a violent whig, he was among the first who engaged in that important, and then consid- ered perilous struggle. At the beginning of the war, he was ap- pointed a colonel in the Massachusetts line. He repaired to Bos- ton, and bore a part in the earliest scenes of the revolutionary contest. He was soon noticed by the commanding geneml, and employed by him as an engineer during a considerable part of the war; and was often sent, under circumstances of the greatest dan- ger, to reconnoitre the movements of the enemy. At the head of his regiment, he stormed one of the redoubts at the capturing of an RUFUS PUTNAM- 255 general Burgoyne's army, where he received a slight wound. — Near the close of the revolutionj he was promoted to the rank of brigadier-general . After the termination of the war which established the indepen- dence of our country, general Putnam retired to a farm in Rutland, in his native state. For a number of years he was employed as a magistrate, and occasionally served his town in the Massachu- setts legislature. He was engaged by the state to make extensive surveys of her lands lying in the district of Maine. He took an active part in the suppression of the Shays insurrection, and more than once jeopardised his Ufe. In the years 1786 and 7, he was engaged in organizing the Ohio Company, for the purpose of purchasing western lands. He was one of the directors of that company, and appointed general superintendent of its concerns. Late in the season of 1787, he started from home, with forty men in his employ, for the Ohio country. The weather was very inclement. The roads over the mountains (if they could be called roads, scarcely travelled except by pack-horses,) were so bad, that the party did not arrive at the mouth of the Muskingum river, until the 7th day of April 1788. The company had contracted for one million and a half of acres of land in the neighborhood of this place. Here they landed, and began the first permanent white settlement in what is now called the state of Ohio. The country was then a perfect wilderness. From this circumstance, general Putnam has been properly called the Father of Ohio. Several forts and block-houses were erected to protect the inhabitants, in case the Indians should prove to be hostile. This settlement advanced slowly for near two years. — Small improvements had been extended in various directions, when on a sudden a dreadful Indian war broke out. Big Bottom settlement, about forty miles above Marietta, on the river, was utterly destroyed, and nearly all the inhabitants were massacred. This happened on the 31st of December, 1790. The settlers were driven to forts and stockades for safety. Thus the progress of the infant settlements was retarded for several years. In the mean time the defeats of general Harmar and general St. Clair took place, which much emboldened the Indians, and stimulated them to further ruthless deeds. Shut up in garrisons, and cultivating 256 RUFtJS PUTNAM. their corn-fields, to prevent starvation, under the cover of mihtary protection, the people felt nothing like safety, until the treaty of general Wayne with the Indians in 1795. From this auspicious event, the country began to settle fast; and general Putnam lived to see the flourishing state of Ohio parcelled into seventy counties, containing a population of nearly a million of inhabitants — a ra- pidity of growth unparallelled in the history of nations. General Putnam was appointed by president Washington, (who knew his merit,) a judge of the supreme court of the North West- ern Territory ; being preferred to several eminent lawyers, who were applicants for the same office. Being possessed of strong, discriminating powers of mind, having read some law, and assisted by an excellent library, he discharged the duties of that office to general acceptance. In the year 1792, general Putnam was appointed a brigadier- general in the army of the United States, under general Wayne, He went as far as Vincennes, on the Wabash — held a treaty with some Indians — was taken sick, and with difficulty reached home ; on which he resigned his commission, and bid a final adieu to a military life. In 1795, president Washington appointed him surveyor-general of the United States ; which office he held nine years, ably and honestly discharging its onerous and important duties. He repre- sented the county of Washington in the convention that formed the constitution of Ohio, and took a prominent part in the deliberations which resulted in that excellent instrument. The last twenty years of his life were spent in retirement, and exertions to do good. In early life he professed his belief in the religion of Jesus Christ, and ever after evinced a sincere attachment to his holy- cause, in the first settlement of the country, he supported a min- ister of the gospel, for several years, almost wholly at his own expense. He was at the majority of the expense of erecting one of the best churches in Ohio, which still stands the monument of his beneficence. His frequent, and (for him, who never was very rich,) liberal donations to colleges, academies, missionary and other benevolent institutions, demonstrate his attachment to the best interests of man. General Putnam was twice married. His first wife and child PELEG WADSWORTH. 257 died within one year after their union. By his second marriage he had nine children ; eight of whom arrived at mature age, and, with the exception of one, had families. His children, grand, and great grand children, are scattered through the state of Ohio, and other adjoining states. He lived to the advanced age of eighty-six years, and died on the first day of May, 1824. His closing scene was that of a Christian soldier. He who had faced death so often in the field of carnage, now met him unappalled. His end was peace. PELEG WADSWORTH, General of the Massachusetts Militia, *'The following is an abstract of an interesting narrative taken from the travels of the late Dr. Dwight : "After the failure of the expedition against the British garrison at Penobscot, general Peleg Wadsworth was appointed, in the spring of 1780, to the command of a party of state troops in Cam- den, in the district of Maine. At the expiration of the period for which the troops were engaged, in February following, general Wadsworth dismissed his troops, retaining six soldiers only as a guai'd, and he was making preparations to depart from the place. A neighboring inhabitant communicated his situation to the British commander at Penobscot, and a party of twenty-five soldiers, commanded by lieutenant Stockton, was sent to make him a pris- oner. They embarked in a small schooner, and landing within four miles of the general's quarters, they were Concealed at the house of one Snow, a raethodist preacher, professedly a friend to him, but really a traitor, till eleven o'clock in the evening, where they made their arrangements for the attack on the general's quar- ters. The party rushed suddenly on the sentinel, who gave the alarm, and one of his comrades instantly opened the door of the kitchen, and the enemy were so near as to enter with the sentinel. The lady of the general, and her friend Miss Fenno, of Boston, were in the house at the time ; and Mrs. Wadsworth escaped from the room of her husband into that of Miss Fenno. The assailants soon became masters of the whole house, except the room where the geaeral was, and which was strongly barred, and they kept up a constant firing of musketry into the windows and doors, ex- cept into those of the ladies' room. General Wadsworth was pro- 23 258 PELEG WADSWORTH. vided with a pair of pistols, a blunderbus?, and a lusce, which he employed with great dexterity, being determined to defend himself to the last moment. With his pistols, which he discharged several times, he defended the windows of his room, and a door which opened into the kitchen. His blunderbuss he snapped several times, but unfoi'tunately it missed hre; he then seized his fusee. which he discharged on some who were breaking through one of the windows, and obliged them to flee. He next defended himself with the bayonet, till he received a ball through his left arm, when he surrendered, which terminated the contest. The firing, how- ever, did not cease from the kitchen till the general unbarred the door, when the soldiers rushed into the room: and one of them, who had been badly wounded, pointing his musket at his breast, exclaimed with an oath, 'You have taken my life, and I will take vours.' But lieutenant Stockton turned the musket and saved his life. The commanding officer now applauded the general for his admirable defence, and assisted in putting on his clothes, saying, 'You see we are in a critical situation- you must excuse haste.' — Mrs. Wadsworth threw a blanket over hmi, and Miss Fenno ap- plied a handkerchief closely around his wounded arm. In this condition, though much exhausted, he with a wounded American soldier, was directed to march on foot, while two British wounded soldiers were mounted on a horse taken from the general's barn. They departed in great haste. When they had proceeded al)0ut a mile, they met at a small house a number of people vvho had collected, and who inquired if they had taken general Wadsworth. They said no, and added that they must leave a wounded man in their care; and if they paid proper attention to him, they should be compensated ; but if not they Avould burn down their house : but the man appeared to be dying. General Wadsworth was now mounted on the horse, Ijehind the other wounded soldier, and was warned that his safety depended on his silence. Having crossed over a frozen mill-pond, about a mile in length, they were met by some of their party who had been left behind. At this place they found the British pri- vateer which brought the party from the fort. The captain, on being told that he must return there with the prisoner and the par- ty, and seeing some of his men wounded, became outrageous, and PELEG WADSU'OKTH. 259 damned the general for a rebel, demanded how he dared to fire on tiie king's troops, and ordered him to help launch the boat, or he vould put his hanger through his body. The general replied that he was a prisoner, and badly wounded, and could not assist in launching the boat. Lieutenant Stockton, on hearing of this a- busive treatment, in a manner honorable to himself, told the cap- tain that the prisoner \vas a gentleman, had made a brave defence, and was to be treated accordingly, and added, that his conduct should be represented to general Campbell. After this, thg cap- tain treated the prisoner w ith great civility, and afforded him eve- ry comfort in his power. General Wadsworth had left the ladies in the house, not a window of which escaped destruction. The doors were broken down, and two of the rooms were set on fire, the floors covered with blood, and on one of them lay a brave old soldier dangerously wounded, begging for death, that he might be released from misery. The anxiety and distress of Mrs. Wads- worth was inexpressible, and that of the general was greatly in- creased by the uncertainty in his mind respecting the fate of his little son, only five years old, who had been exposed to every dan- ger by the firing into the house; but he had the happiness after- ward to hear of his safety. Having arrived at the British post, tlie capture of general Wadsworth was soon announced, and the shore thronged with spectators, to see the man who, through the preceding year, had disappointed all the designs of the British in that quarter; and loud shouts were heard from the rabble which covered the shore; but when he arrived at the fort and was con- ducted into the ofiicer's guard-room, he was treated with polite- ness. General Campbell, the commandant of the British garri- son, sent his compliments to him, and a surgeon to dress his wounds ; assuring him that his situation should be made comfortable. The next morning general Campbell invited him to breakfast, and at table paid him many compliments on the defence he had made, observing, however, that he had exposed himself in a degree not perfectly justifiable. General Wadsworth replied, that from the manner of the attack he had no reason to suspect any design of taking him alive, and that he intended therefore to sell his life as dearly as possible. 'But, sir,' says general Campbell, 'I under- stand that the captain of the privateer treated vou very ill; I shall 260 PELEG WADSWORTH. see that matter set right.' He then informed the prisoner that a room in the officers' barracks within the fort was prepared for him, and that he should send his orderly-sergeant daily to attend him to breakfast and dinner at his table. Having retired to his solitary apartment, and while his spirits were extremely depressed by a recollection of the past, and by his present situation, he re- ceived from general Campbell several books of amusement, and soon after a visit from him, kindly endeavoring to cheer the spirits of his prisoner by conversation. Not long after, the officers of the party called, and among others the redoubtable captain of the privateer, who called to ask pardon for what had fallen from him when in a passion ; adding that it was not in his nature to treat a gentleman prisoner ill; that the unexpected disappointment of his cruise had thrown him off'his guard, and he hoped that this would be deemed a sufficient apology. This general Wadsworth ac- cepted. At the hour of dining he was invited to the table of the commandant, where he met with all the principal officers of the garrison, and from whom he received particular attention and po- liteness. General Wadsworth soon made application to the com- mandant for a flag of truce, by which means he could transmit a letter to the governor of Massachusetts, and another to Mrs. Wads- worth : this was granted, on the condition that the letter to the governor should be inspected. The flag was inti-usted to lieuten- ant Stockton, and on his return the general was relieved from all anxiety respecting his wife and family. General Campbell, and the officers of the garrison, continued their civilities for some time, and endeavored, by books and personal visits, to render his situa- tion as pleasant as circumstances would admit of. At the end of five weeks, his wound being nearly healed, he requested of gene- ral Campbell the customary privilege of a parole, and received in reply, that his case had been reported to the commanding officer at New-York, and that no alteration could he made till orders were received from that quarter. In about two months, Mrs. Wads- worth and Miss Fenno arrived ; and general Campbell, and some of the officers, contributed to render their visit agreeable to all con- cerned. About the same time orders were received from the com- manding general at New-York, which were concealed from gen- eral Wads worth; but he finally learned that he was not to be pa- PKLEG WADSWORTH. 261 roled nor exchanged, but was to be sent to England as a rebel of too much consequence to be at liberty. Not long afterward major Benjamin Burton, a brave and worthy man, who had served un- der general Wadsworth the preceding summer, was taken and brought into the fort, and lodged in the same room with general Wadsworth. He had been informed that both himself and the general were to be sent, immediately after the return of a priva- teer now out on a cruise, either to New-York or Halifax, and thence to England. The prisoners immediately resolved to make a desperate attempt to effect their escape. They were confined in a grated room in the officers' barracks, within the fort. The walls of this fortress, exclusively of the depth of the ditch sur- rounding it, were twenty feet high, with fraising on the top, and chevaux-de-frise at the bottom. Two sentinels were always in the entry, and their door, the upper part of which was of glass, might be opened by these watchmen whenev er they thought pro- per, and was actually opened at seasons of peculiar darkness and silence. At the exterior doors of the entries, sentinels were also stationed; as were others in the body of the fort, and at the quar- ters of general Campbell. At the guard-house a strong guard was daily mounted. Several sentinels were stationed on the walls of the fort, and a complete line occupied them by night. Without the ditch, glacis, and abattis, another complete set of soldiers patroled through the night also. The gate of the fort was shut at sunset, and a picket-guard was placed on or near the isthmus leading from the fort to the main land. "The room in which they were confined was railed with boards . One of these they determined to cut off so as to make a hole large enough to pass through, and then to creep along till they should come to the next or middle entry, and lower themselves down into this entry by a blanket. If they should not be discovered, the passage to the walls of the fort was easy. In the evening, after the sentinels had seen the prisoners retire to bed, general Wads- worth got up, and standing on a chair, attempted to cut with his knife, the intended opening, but soon found it impracticable. The next day, by giving a soldier a dollar, they procured a gimblet. With this instrument they proceeded cautiously, and as silently as possible, to perforate the board, and in order to conceal every ap- 23* 262 PELEG WADS%VORTir. pearance from their servants, and from the officers, their visiters, they carefully covered the gimblet holes with chewed bread. At the end of three weeks, their labors were so far completed, that it only remained to cut with a knife, the parts which were left to hold the piece in its place. When their preparations were finished, they learned that a privateer in which they were to embark was daily expected. In the evening of the 18th of June, a very severe storm of rain, with great darkness, and almost incessant lightning, came on. This the prisoners considered as the propitious moment. Having extinguished their lights, they began to gut the corners of the board, and in less than an hour the intended opening was com- pleted. The noise which the operation occasioned was drowned by the rain falling on the roof. Major Burton first ascended to the ceiling, and pressed himself through the opening. General Wadsworth next, having put the corner of his blanket through the hole, and made it fast by a strong wooden skewer, attempted to make his way through, standing on a chair below, but it was with extreme difficulty that he effected it, and reached the middle entry. From this he passed through the door which he found open, and made his way to the wall of the fort, and had to encounter the greatest difficulty before he could ascend to the top. He had now to creep along the top of the fort, between the sentry-boxes, at the very moment when the relief was shifting sentinels ; but the falling of heavy rain kept the sentinels within their boxes, and favored his escape. Having now fastened his blanket round a picket at the top, he let himself dov/n through the chevaux-de-frise to the ground, and in a manner astonishing to himself, made his way into the open field. Here he was obliged to grope his way among rocks, stumps, and brushy in tlie darkness of night, till he reached the cove ; happily the tide had ebbed, and enabled him to cross the wa- ter, about a mile in breadth, and not more than three feet deep. About two o'clock in the morning, general Wadsworth found him- self a mile and a half from the fort, and he proceeded through a thick wood and brush to the Penobscot river, and after passing some distance along the shore, being seven miles from the fort, to his unspeakable joy he saw his friend Burton advancing towards him. Major Burton had been obliged to encounter in his course equal difficulties with his companion ; and such were the incredi^ TIBIOTHY PICKERING. 263 ble perils, dangers, and obstructions, which they surmounted, that their escape may be considered almost miraculous. It was now necessary they should cross the Penobscot river, and very fortu- nately they discovered a canoe with oars on the shore suited to their purpose. While on the river, they discovered a barge with a party of British from the fort in pursuit of them, but by taking an oblique course, and plying their oars to the utmost, they happily eluded the eyes of their pursuers, and arrived safe on the western shore. After having wandered in the wilderness for several days and nights, exposed to extreme fatigue and cold, and with no other food than a little dried bread and meat which i hey brought in their pockets from the fort, they reached the settlements on the river St. George, and no further difficulties attended their return to their respective families." — Thacher's Military Journal. TIMOTHY PICKERING, Colonel in the American Army. Colonel Pickering was born in Salem, Massachusetts, on the 17th July, 1746, and was descended from a respectable family, v/ho were among the earliest emigrants. He received a liberal education, and was graduated at Harvard University in 1763, at the moment when the peace between Great Britain and Frsnce, had liberated the colonies from a harassing war, and left them at leisure to investigate and ascertain their rights in relation to the mother country. The controversy, that soon arose, engrossed his feelings and enlisted all the powerful faculties of his mind on the side of his country. He soon became the champion and leader of the whigs in his vicinity. The disputes between Great Britain and her American colonies, (which now form the United States,) commencing with the stamp act, in 1765, and revived in 1767, by the act of parliament for raising a revenue in the colonies, gave rise to two parties, which at length were distinguished by the name of whig and tory; the latter acquiescing in the British claims of taxation ; the former re- sisting them. In 1767, the assembly of Massachusetts sent a circular letter to the speakers of the assemblies, for the purpose of promoting the adoption of uniform measures, (by petitions and re- monstrances,) to obtain a redress of grievances. Most of those 264 TIMOTHY PICKERING. assemblies concurred with that of Massachusetts. In 1768, a let- ter from lord Hillsborough, required the assembly of Massachu- setts to rescind the vote of their predecessors for sending that cir- cular letter. This was peremptorily refused by a majority of 92 to 17. The representatives of Salem, colonel Pickering's native town, were among the 17. At the next election they were neg- lected, and whigs chosen in their stead. This was the crisis of the political revolution in Salem. Colonel Pickering was then four and twenty years old. His elder and only brother was cho- sen one of the representatives : and from that time he was himself actively engaged in all the whig measures that were preliminary to the final revolution and independence of the colonies. Always a member of the committees of inspection and correspondence, the burthen of the writing rested upon him. The memory of one of tliem, characterized by the most magnanimous and generous sen- timents, is preserved by Dr. Ramsay, in his elegant "History of the American Revolution." When in 1774, the British parliament, by an act usually called the "Boston port-bill," shut up the capital of Massachusetts from the sea, thereby prostrating its active and extensive commerce^ the seat of the provincial government was removed from Boston to Sa,lem. Sympathizing with the sufferers of Boston, the inhab- itants of Salem, at a full town meeting, voted an address to the new governor, general Gage, the great object of which was, so far as an expression of their sentiments would go to procure relief for their brethren in Boston. That address was written by colonel Pickering. Its conclusion doctor Ramsay justly thought worth transcribing on the page of history. It here follows with his in- troductory observations : "The inhabitants of Salem, in an address to governor Gage, concluded with these remarkable words — 'By shutting up the port of Boston, some imagine that the course of trade might be turned hither, and to our benefit; but nature, in the formation of our harbor, forbid our becoming rivals in commerce, with that convenient mart ; and were it otherwise, we must be dead to every idea of justice, lost to all feelings of humanity, could we indulge one thought to seize on wealth, and raise our fortunes on the ruins of our suffer- ing neighbors.' " TIMOTHY PICKERING. 265 While the seat of government remained at Salem, colonel Pick- ering received a note from the secretary of the province, inform- ing him that the governor wished to see him at the secretary's house. He went and was introduced to general Gage. Taking colonel Pickering into another room, the general entered into con- versation on the state of things, the solemn league and covenant, and the non-importation agreement. In the conclusion, the gene- ral said — "Well, there are merchants who, notwithstanding all your agreements, will import British goods." Colonel Pickering answered — "They may import them, but the people will use their liberty to buy them or let them alone." These incidents are men- tioned as evidence of the confidence he had acquired among his fellow-citizens, from an early period of our political disputes with Great Britain. On the 28th of April, 1775, was the battle of Lexington. About 6 o'clock in the morning, colonel Pickering being in his office, (the register of deeds for the county of Essex) a captain of militia from the adjacent town of Danvers, came in and informed him that a man had ridden into that town, and informed that the British troops had marched from Boston to Lexington, and attacked the militia. This officer, whose company belonged to colonel Pickering's regi- ment, asked for orders and received a verbal answer, that the Dan- vers companies should march without waiting for those of Salem. Immediately colonel Pickering went to the centre of the towu and met a few of the principal inhabitants. A short consultation ensued. Those who knew the distance of Lexington from Salem, and its relative situation to Boston, observed, that the British troops would certaiidy have returned to Boston long before the Salem militia could reach the scene of action; and that to march would^ therefore, be useless. It was, nevertheless, concluded to assemble the militia, and commence the march; and for this sole reason — That it would be an evidence to their brethren in the country, of , their disposition to co-operate in every measure which the common safety required. This idea, however, of the fruitlessness of their march, was so predominant, that they halted a short time, when about two miles from the town ; expecting every moment intelli- gence that the British troops had returned. But receiving none, they resumed their march, and proceeded to Medford, which was 2(56 TIMOTHY PICKERING. about five miles from Boston. Here colonel Pickering first receiv- ed certain information that the British troops were still on their march, and on a route which rendered it impossible to meet therh. He hastened the march of the militia on the direct road to Charles- town and Boston; until on ah elevated part of the road, the smoke "was seen from the fire of a small number of militia muskets dis- charged at a distance, at the British troops. He halted the companies, and ordered them to load; in full e.\- pectation of coming to an engagement. At that moment a mes- senger arrived from general Heath, who informed colonel Picker- ing that the British troops had their artillery in the rear, and could not be approached by musketry ; and that the general desired to see liim. Leaving the companies in that position, he went across the fields and met general Heath. They soon after saw the British troops ascend the high ground called Bunker's-hill. It was about sunset. — The next day they entered Boston. It was before the close of the year 1775, that in organizing the provisional government of Massachusetts, colonel Pickering was appointed one of the judges of the court of common pleas for Es- sex, his native county, and sole judge of the maritime court (which had cognizance of all prize-causes) for the middle district, compre- hending Boston, with Salem and the other ports in Essex; offices which he held until he accepted an appointment in the army. In the fall of 1776, the arnxy under general Washington's com- mand being greatly reduced in numbers, a large reinforcement of militia was called for; five thousand from Massachusetts. Colonel Pickering took the command of a regiment of seven hundred men furnished from Essex. The quota of Salem was composed of vo- lunteers. This tour of duty was performed in the winter of 1776-7, terminating at Boundbrook, in New-Jersey ; general Washington's head-quarters being at JMorristown. Soon after his return home, colonel Pickering received an invi- tation from general Washington, to take the ofiice of adjutant-gen- eral. This he accepted, and joined the army under Washington's command at Middlebrook, in New-Jersey. Colonel Pickering was selected by the commander-in-chief for this station, on account of his high character, "both as a great military genius, cultivated by an industrious attention to the study of war, and as a gentle- TIMOTirV PICKERING. 267 man of liberal education, distinguished zeal, and great method and activity in business." General Howe having embarked his army at New-York, to proceed, as it was understood, either to Delaware or Chesapeake Bay, general Washington's army marched from New-Jersey to the state of Delaware, and thence into the adjacent part of Pennsyl- \ania, to oppose the British army then marching from the head of Elk for Philadelphia. On the 11th of September, the battle of Brandywine took place. After carrying general Washington's orders to a general officer at Chad's ford, colonel Pickering re- paired to the right, where the battle commenced, and remained by the general's side till its te rminationat the close of the day. Orders were given for the rendezvous at Chester, whence they marched the next day to the neighborhood of Philadelphia. When refreshed and supplied with ammunition, the army again crossed the Schuyl- kill river, and advanced to meet general Howe. On the IGth of September, in the morning, information was received of the ap- proach of the enemy. Some detachmenis were made to reinforce the advanced guards, and keep the enemy in check until the A- merican army should be arrayed for action. General Washingtcri ordered colonel Pickering to the right wing, to aid ia forming the order of battle. On his return to the centre, he found the line not formed. Seeing the commander-in-chief with a number of officers about him, as in consultation, colonel Pickering pressed his horse up to learn the object. It was a question, whether they sliould receive the British on the ground then occupied by the American troops, or retire beyond a valley in the rear of the British, in which the ground was said to be wet, and impassable with artil- lery, which, in case of a defeat would of course be lost, excepting that with the left wing, commanded by general Greene, through which there was a firm road. By this time the fire of the troops engaged appeared to be drawing near. At this moment, the con- sultation continuing, colonel Pickering addressed general Wash- ington — "Sir," said colonel Pickering, "the advancing of the Brit- ish is manifest by the reports of musketry. The order of battle is not completed. If we are to fight the enemy on this ground, the troops ought to be immediately arranged. If we are to take the high ground on the other side of the valley, we ought to march 268 TIMOTHY PICKERING. immediately, or the enemy may fall upon us in the midst of oui movements." "Let us move," was the general's answer. The movement then took place. It had begun to rain. The British army halted. The Americans formed on the high ground beyond the valley, and there remained during a very heavy rainy day. They then marched to a place called the Yellow Springs. The cartridge boxes were bad, and nearly all the ammunition in them was spoiled. Hence it became necessary to keep aloof from the enemy, till fresh ammunition could be made up and distributed. * On the 5th of October, general Washington attacked the British troops at Germantown. After the right wing, commanded by general Sullivan, had for some time been briskly engaged, general Washington sent colonel Pickering forward with an order to that officer. Having delivered it, he returned to rejoin the commander- in-chief It had been found that a party of the British troops had taken post in a large and strong house, since well known by the name of Chew's house, on which the light field artillery of the A- mericans could make no impression. Colonel Pickering first dis- covered the enemy to be there, by their firing at him from the windows on his return from general Sullivan. On rejoining general Washington, colonel Pickering found a question was agitated, in his presence, whether the whole of the troops then behind, should pass on, regardless of the enemy in Chew's house, or summon them to surrender. A distinguished officer urged a summons. He said it would be "unmilitary to leave a castle in our rear." Colonel Pickering answered, "doubt- less that is a correct general maxim; but it does not apply to this case. We know the extent of this castle, (Chew's house ;) and to guard against the danger from the enemy's sallying out and falling on the rear of the troops, a small regiment may be posted here to watch them, and if they sally out, such a regiment will take care of them : but, (he added) to summon them to surrender will be useless. We are now in the midst of the battle, and its issue is unknown. In this state of uncertainty, and so well secured as the enemy find themselves, they will not regard your summons; they will fire at your flag." A subaltern officer, with a white flag and drum, was sent with a summons. He had reached the gate at the road, when a shot from the window gave him a mortal wound. TIMOTHY PICKERING. 269 In December the army marched to Valley Forge, and took up •winter quarters in log huts, which they erected at that place. Before this, the congress, then sitting at York-town, in Pennsyl- vania, had elected colonel Pickering a member of the continental board of war. General Gates and general Mifflin were elected members of the same board; and before the expiration of the win- ter, they all repaired to York-town, where the board sat. In this situation colonel Pickering remained until general Greene re- signed the office of quarter- master-general. On the 5th of August, 1779, congress elected him Greene's successor, and he continued in the office of quarter-master-general during the remainder of the war. The project of besieging the city of New-York in 1781, having been relinquished, and the siege of York-town, in Virginia, re- solved on, colonel Pickering received general Washington's orders to prepare immediately for the march of a part of the army to that place, and for the transportation of artillery, and of all the stores requisite for the siege. This was done. The event is known to every body. Lord Cornwallis and his army were made prisoners. This decided the fate of the war. In the succeeding winter, the British government, despairing of conquest, abandoned all offen- sive operations, in America^ and in November, 1782, articles of peace were agreed on. From the year 1790 to 1794, colonel Pickering was charged by general Washington, (then president of the United States,) with several negotiations with the Indian nations on our frontiers : in 1793, in a joint commission with general Lincoln and Beverly Randolph, Esq. of Virginia, to treat of peace with the western In- dians. And in 1794, he was appointed the sole agent to adjust all our disputes with the six nations ; which were terminated with a satisfactory treaty. In the year 1791, general Washington appointed him post mas- ter general. In this office he continued until the close of the year 1794; when on the resignation of general Knox, he was appointed secretary of war. In August, 1796, Mr. Edmund Randolph hav- ing resigned the office of secretary of state, general Washington gave colonel Pickering the temporary charge of that department also. Some time before the meeting of congress, which was in 24 370 TIMOTHY PICKERINGf. December following, he also tendered to colonel Pickering the of- fice of secretary of state, which was at once declined; but as soon as congress assembled, without speaking to colonel Pickering a- gain, Washington nominated him to the senate to be secretary of state, and the senate approved the nomination. He continned in this office until May, 1800; when he was removed by president Adams. At the close of the year 1801, colonel Pickering returned to live in Massachusetts — In 1803, the legislature appointed him a senator to represent the state in congress for the residue of the term of Dwight Foster, Esq. who had resigned — In 1805, the legis- lature again elected him a senator, and for the term of six years. Being in debt for new lands purchased some years before, and by the appreciation of which he had hoped to have made an event- ual provision for his eight surviving children, and having no other resources — as soon as he was removed from office in 1800, he car- ried his family back from Philadelphia into the country; and with one of his sons went into the backwoods of Pennsylvania, where, w ith the aid of some laborers, they cleared a few acres of land, sowed wheat, and built a log hut, into which he meant the next year to remove his family. — From this condition he was dravn by the kindness of his friends in Massachusetts ; by the spontaneous liberality of those friends in taking a transfer of new lands, in ex- change for money^ colonel Pickering was enabled to pay his debts, return to his native state, and finall)^ to purchase a small farm in the county of Essex, on which he lived many years, cultivating it with his own hands, and literally with the sweat of his brow. Colonel Pickering continued to sustain the office of a senator in congress, till 1811, when he devoted himself entirely to the la- bors of agriculture. Soon after he was chosen by the legislature of this state, a member of the executive council, and, during the late war, when appi-ehensions were entertained that the enemy contemplated assailing our towns and cities, he was chosen a men> ber of the board of war for the defence of the state. — In 1814 he was chosen a representative in congress, and held his seat (ill March, 1817. Colonel Pickering closed his long and brilliant career of pa- WILUAH WASHINGTON. 271 triotism, integrity, disinterestedness and public service, at Salem, January 29, 1829, in the 84th year of his age, after a sickness of a few days. WILLIAM WASHINGTON, Colonel in the American Armv. "He was the eldest son of Baily Washington, Esq. of Stafford county, in the state of Virginia, and belonged to a younger branch of the original Washington family. "In the commencement of the war, and at an early period of life, he had entered the army as captain of a company of infantry under the command of general Mercer. In this corps he had ac- quired, from actual service, a practical knowledge of the profes- sion of arms. He fought in the battle of Long-Island j and in liis retreat through New-Jersey, accompanied his great kinsman, cheerful under the gloom, coolly confronting the danger, and bearing, with exempla- ry fortitude and firmness, the heavy misfortunes and privations of the time. "In the successful attack on the British post at Trenton, captain Washington acted a brilliant and most important part. Perceiv- ing the enemy about to form a battery, and point it into a narrow street, against the advancing American column, he charged them at the head of his company, drove them from their guns, and thus prevented, certainly, the effusion of much blood, perhaps the re- pulse of the assailing party. In this act of heroism he received a severe wound in the wrist. It is but justice to add, that on this occasion captain Washington was ably and most gallantly sup- ported by lieutenant Monroe, late president of the United States, who also sustained a wound in the hand. "Shortly after this adventure, Washington was promoted to a majority in a regiment of horse. In this command he was very actively engaged in the northern and middle states, with various success, until the year 1780. Advanced to the rank of lieutenant- colonel, and placed at the head of a regiment of cavalry, com- posed of the remains of three that had been reduced by sickness and battle, he was then attached to the army under general Lin- coln, engaged in the defence of South Carolina. 7 DO 272 WILLIAM WASHINGTON. "Here his service was various, and his course eventful ; marked by a few brilliant strokes of fortune, but checkered with two se- vere disasters. The first of these reverses was at Monk's cor- ner, where he himself commanded ; the other at Leneau's Ferry, where he was second in command to colonel White. "Inured to an uncommon extent and variety of hard services,^ and sufficiently disciplined in the school of adversity, colonel Washington, although a young man, was now a veteran in milita- ry experience. Added to this, he was somewhat accustomed to a warm climate, and had acquired, from actual observation, con- siderable knowledge of that tract of country which was to consti- tute, in future, the theatre of war. "Such was this officer when^ at the head of a regiment of ca- valry, he was attached to the army of general Greene. "One of his partisan exploits, however, the result of a well conceived stratagem, must be succinctly narrated. "Having learnty during a scouting excursion, that a large body of loyalists, commanded by colonel Rudgley, was posted at Rudg- ley's mill, twelve miles from Camden, he determined on attacking > them. Approaching the enemy, he found them so secured in a large log barn, surrounded by abattis, as to be perfectly safe from the operations of cavalry. Forbidden thus to attempt his object by direct attack, his usual and favorite mode of warfare, he deter- mined for once to have recourse to policy. Shaping, therefore, a pine log in imitation of a field-piece, mountmg it on wheels, and. staining it with mud, to make it look like iron, he brought it up in military style, and affected to make arrangements to batter down the barn. To give the stratagem solemnity and effect, he des- patched a flag, warning the garrison of the impending destruction, and to prevent bloodshed, summoned them to submission. Not prepared to resist ai'tillery, colonel Rudgley obeyed the summons ; and with a garrison of one hundred and three, rank and file, sur- rendered at discretion. "In the spring of 1782, colonel Washington married Miss El- liot, of Charleston, and established himself at Sandy-hill, her an- cestral seat. "After the conclusion of peace, he took no other concern in HENRY LEE. 273 public affairs than to appear occasionally in the legislature of South Carolina. "When general Washington accepted the command in chief of the armies of the United States, under the presidency of Mr. Ad- ams, he selected, as one of his staff, his kinsman, colonel William Washington, with the rank of brigadier-general. Had other proof been wanting, this alone was sufficient todecidehis military worth. "In private life he was a man of unsullied honor, united to an amiable temper, lively manners, a hospitable disposition, and a truly benevolent heart." — Life of General Greene. HENRY LEE, Colonel in the American Army. Colonel Lee was by birth a Virginian, and descended from the most distinguished branch of the Lees in that state. He pos- sessed the lofty genius of his family, united to invincible courage and firmness, and all the noble enthusiasm of the warrior. Gen- eral Charles Lee, who was beyond question a competent judge of military talent, averred, "that Henry Lee came a soldier from his mother's womb." General Greene pronounced him " The Eye''"' of the southern army, and to his counsels gave the most implicit, con- stant, and unbounded confidence. In the hour of difficulty, was danger to be averted, was prompt exertion necessary to prevent revolt, crush insurrection, cut off supplies, harass the enemy, or pursue him to destrijction, to no one did he so often turn as to Lee. But his ardor, brillia^ncy, and daring resolution, constituted but a pail of his militairy worth. In him the fierce impetuosity of youth was finely blended with the higher and more temperate qualities of age. If he had in his temperament something of the electrical fire of Achilles, it was ennobled by the polished dignity of Hector, and repressed and moderated by the wisdom of Nestor. For vigilance, intelligence, decision of character, skill in arms, a spirit of enterprise, and powers of combination, he had but few equals, youthful as he was, in the armies of his country. As an officer of horse, and a partisan commander, perhaps ho had no superior upon earth. That he was justly entitled to this encomium, appears, as well from the extensive catalogue of his exploits, as from the high con- 34* 274 JOHN LAURENS. fidence always reposed in him by the commanding officer under whom he served. This is true, no less in relation to Washington than Greene. He was the intimate friend and confidant of both. The sentiments of the latter, with regard to him, are forcibly ex- pressed in the following extract of a letter, dated February 18th, 1782. "Lieutenant-colonel Lee retires for a time, for the recovery of his health. I am more indebted to this officer than any other, for the advantage gained over the enemy in the operations of the last campaign; and I should be wanting in gratitude, not to acknowl- edge the importance of his services, a detail of which is his best panegyric." — Life of Greene. JOHN LAURENS, Colonel in the American Army, "Son of Henry Laurens, w^as born in Charleston, in 1755. In- youth he discovered that energy of character which distinguished him through life. When a lad, though laboring under a fever, on the cry of fire, he leaped from his bed, hastened to the scene of danger, and was in a few minutes, on the top of the exposed houses, risking his life to arrest the progress of tlie flames. This is the more worthy of notice, for precisely in the same way and under a similar, but higher impulse of ardent patriotism, he lost his life in, the year 1782. "At the age of sixteen, he was taken to E^jrope by his father, and there put under the best means of ijistru^tion in Geneva.. and afterward in London. * "He was entered a student of law at the temple in 1774, and v/as daily improving in legal knowledge till the disputes between Great Britain and her colonies arrested his attention. He soon found that the claims of the mother country struck at the- root of liberty in the colonies, and that she perseveringly resolved to en- force these claims at every hazard. Fain would he have come out to join his countrymen in arms at the commencement of the contest; but the peremptory order of his father enjoined his contin- uance in England, to prosecute his studies and finish bis education. Asa dutiful son, he obeyed these orders; but as a patriot burning M ith a desire to defend his country, he dismissed Coke, Littleton, JOHN LAURENS. 275 and all the tribe of jurists, and substituted in their place Vauban,. Folard, and other writers on war. He also availed himself of the excellent opportunities which London affords, of acquiring practical knowledge of the manual exercise, of tactics, and the mechanism of war. Thus instructed, as soon as he was a free- man of legal age, he quitted England for France, and by a circuit- ous voyage in neutral vessels, and at a considerable risk, made his way good, in the year 1777, to Charleston. "Independence had been declared — the American army was raised, officered, and in the field. He who by his attainments in general science, and particularly in the military art, deserved high rank, had no ordinary door left open to serve his country, but by entering in the lowest grade of an army abounding with offi- cers. General Washington,^ ever attentive to merit, instantly took him into his family, as a supernumerary aid-de-camp. Shortly after this appointment,, he had an opportunity of indulging his military ardor. He fought and was wounded in the battle of Ger- mantown, October 4th, 1777. He continued in general Washing- ton's family, in the middle states, till the British had retreated from Philadelphia to New-York, and was engaged in the battle of Mon- mouth, June 28, 1778. "After this, the war being transferred more northwardly, he was indulged in attaching himself to the army on Rhode Island, where the most active operations were expected soon to take place. There he was intrusted with the command of some light troops. The bravery and good conduct which he displayed on this occa- sion was honored by congress. On the 5th of November, 1778, they resolved, 'that John Lau- rens, Esq. aid-de-camp to general Washington, be presented with a continental commission of lieutenant-colonel, in testimony of the sense which congress entertain of his patriotic and spirited ser- vices as a volunteer in the American army ; and of his brave conduct in several actions, particularly in that of Rhode Island, on the 29th of August last; and that general Washington be directed, whenever an opportunity shall offer, to give lieutenant-colonel Laurens command agreeable to his rank.' On the next day, a let- ter from lieutentant-colonel Laurens was read in congress, expres- sing 'his gratitude for the unexpected honor which congress were 276 JOHN LAURENS. pleased to confer on him by the resolution passed the day before j and the high satisfaction it would have aflforded him, could he have accepted it without injuring the rights of the officers in the line of the army, and doing an evident injustice to his colleagues in the family of the commander-in-chief — that having been a spectator of the convulsions occasioned in the army by disputes of rank, he held the tranquility of it too dear to be instrumental in disturbing it, and therefore entreated congress to suppress the resolve of yes- terday, ordering him a commission of lieutenant-colonel, and to ac- cept his sincere thanks for the intended honor.' In this relin- quishment there was a victory gained by patriotism over self-love. Lieutenant-colonel Laurens loved military fame and rank; but he loved his country more, and sacrificed the former to preserve the peace and promote the interest of the latter. "In the next year the British directed their military operations chiefly agamstthe most southern states. Lieutenant-colonel John Laurens was induced by double motives to repair to Carolina. The post of danger was always the^objectof his preference. His na- tive state was become the theatre of war. To its aid he repaired, and in May, 1779, with a party of light troops, had a skirmish with the British at TuUifinny. In endeavoring to obstruct their pro- gress towards Charleston, he received a wound. This was no sooner cured than he rejoined the army, and was engaged in the unsuccessful attack on Savannah, on the 9th of October of the same year. To prepare for the defence of Charleston, the reduc- tion of which was known to be contemplated by the British, was the next object of attention among the Americans. To this colonel Laurens devoted all the energies of his active mind. "In the progress of the siege, which commenced in 1779, the success of defensive operations became doubtful. Councils of war were frequent — several of the citizens were known to wish for a surrender, as a termination of their toils and dangers. In these councils, and on proper occasions, colonel Laurens advocated the abandonment of the front lines, and to retire to new ones to be erect- ed within the old ones, and to risk arcassault. When these spirited measures were opposed on the suggestion that the inhabitants pre- ferreAa capitulation, he declared that he would direct his sword to JOHN LAURENS. 277 the heart of the first citizen who would urge a capitulation against the opinion of the commander-in-chief. "When his superior officers, convinced of the inefficacy of fur- tlier resistance, were disposed to surrender on terms of capitula- tion, he yielded to the necessity of the case, and became a prisoner of war. The reverse of fortune opened a new door for serving his country in a higher line than he ever yet had done. He was soon exchanged, and reinstated in a capacity for acting. In ex- pediting his exchange, congress had the ulterior view of sending him a special minister to Paris, that he might urge the necessity of a vigorous co-operation on the part of France with the United States against Great Britain. When this was proposed to colo- nel Laurens, he recommended and urged that colonel Alexander Hamilton should be employed in preference to himself. Congress adhered to their first choice. "Colonel Laurens sailed for France in the latter end of 1780^. and there, in conjunction with Dr. Franklin, and count de Ver- gennes^ and marquis de Castries, arranged the plan of the cam- paign for 1781, which eventuated in the surrender of lord Corn- wallis, and finally in a termination of the war. Within six months from the day colonel Laurens left America, he returned to it, and brought with him the concerted plan of combined operations. Ar- dent to rejoin the army, he was indulged with making a verbal re- port of his negotiations to congress ; and in three days set out to resume his place as one of the aids of Washington. The Amer- ican and French army about this time commenced the siege of York-town. In the course of it, colonel Laurens, as second ia command, with his fellow-aid, colonel Hamilton, assisted in storming and taking an advanced British redoubt, which expedited the sur- render of lord Cornwallis. The articles of capitulation were ar- ranged by colonel Laurens on behalf of the Americans. Charleston and a part of South Carolina still remained in the power of the British. Colonel Laurens thought nothing done while any thing remained undone. He, therefore, on the surrender of lord Cornwallis, repaired to South Carolina, and joined the south- ern army commanded by general Greene. In the course of the summer of 1782, he caught a common fever, and was sick in bed when ^n expedition was undertaken against a party of the British, 278 SETH WARNEK. which had gone to Combakee to carry off rice. Colonel Laurens rose from his sick bed and joined his countrymen. While leading an advanced party, he received a shot, which, on the 27th of Au- gust, 1782, at the close of the war, put an end to his valuable life, in the 27th year of his age. Kis many virtues have been ever since the subject of eulogy, and his early fall, of national lamen- tation. The fourth of July seldom passes without a tribute to his memory. — Rainsay''s History of South Carolina. SETH WARNER, Colonel in the American Army, "Among the persons who have performed important services to the state of Vermont, colonel Seth Warner deserves to be remem- bered with respect. He was born at Woodbury, in the colony of Connecticut, about the year 1744, of honest and respectable pa- rents. Without any other advantages for an education than what were to be found in the common schools of the town, — he was early distinguished by the solidity and extentof his understanding. About the year 1703, his parents purchased a tract of land in Ben- nington, and soon after removed to that town with their family. In the uncultivated state of the country, in the fish with which the rivers and j)onds were furnished, and in the game with which the woods abounded, young Warner found a variety of objects suited to his favorite inclinations and pursuits; and he soon became distin- guished as a fortunate and indefatigable hunter. "His father, captain Benjamin Warner, had a strong inclination to medicinal inquiries and pursuits; and agreeably to the state of tilings in new settlements, had to look for many of his medicines in the natural virtues of the plants and roots that were indigenous to the country. His son Seth frequently attended him in these bo- tanical excursions, contracted something of his father's taste for the business, and acquired more information of the nature and properties of the indigenous plants and vegetables, than any other man in the country. By this kind of knowledge he became useful to the families in the new settlements, and administered relief in many cases where no other medical assistance could at that time be procured. By such visits and practice, he became known to most of the families on the west side of the Green mountains; and SETH WARNER, 279 was generally esteemed by them as a man highly useful, both on account of his information and humanity. "About the year 1763, a scene began to open which gave a new turn to his active and enterprising spirit. The lands on which the settlements were made, had been granted by the governors of New- Hampshire. The government of New- York claimed jurisdiction to the eastward as far as Connecticut river; denied the authority of the governor of New-Hampshire to make any grants to the west of Connecticut river; and announced to the inhabitants that they were within the territory of New- York, and had no legal title to the lands on which they had settled. The controversy became very serious between the two governments ; and after some years spent in altercation, New- York procured a decision of George HI. in their favor. This order was dated July 20, 1764, and declared Hhe western banks of the river Connecticut, from where it enters the province of Massachusetts bay, as far north as the 45th degree of north latitude, to be the boundary line between the said two pro- vinces of New-Hampshire and New- York.' No sooner was this decree procured, than the governor of New-York proceeded to make new grants of the lands which the settlers had before fairly bought of the crown, and which had been chartered to them in the king's name and authority by the royal governor of New-Hampshire. — All became a scene of disorder and danger. The new patentees under New-York, brought actions of ejectment against the settlers. The decisions of the court of Albany, were always in favor of the New- York patentees; and nothing remained for the inhabitants but to buy their lands over again, or to give up the labors and earnings of their whole lives, to the new claimants under titles from New- York. "In this scene of oppression and distress, the settlers discovered the firm and vigorous spirit of manhood. All that was left to them, was either to yield up their whole property to a set of unfeeling land-jobbers, or to defend themselves and property by force. They wisely and virtuously chose the latter; and by a kind of common consent, Ethan Allen and Seth Warner became their leaders. No man's abilities and talents could have been better suited to this business than Warner's. When the authority of New-York pro- ceeded with an armed force to attempt to execute their laws, War- 280 SETH WARKER. ner met them with a body of Green Mountain Boys, properly armed, full of resolution, and so formidable in numbers and cou- rage, that the governor of New-York was obliged to give up this method of proceeding. When the sheriff came to extend his exe- cutions, and eject the settlers from their farms, Warner would not suffer him to proceed. Spies were employed to procure intelli- gence, and promote division among the people. When any of these were taken, Warner caused them to be tried by some of the most discreet of the people, and, if declared guilty, to be tied to a tree and whipped. An officer came to take Warner by force ; he considered it as an affair of open hostility, engaged, wounded, and disarmed the officer; but, with the honor and spirit of a soldier, spared the life of an enemy he had subdued. These services ap- peared in a very different light to the settlers, and to the govern- ment of New-York: the first considered him as an eminent patriot and hero; to the other he appeared as the first of villains and rebels. To put an end to eill further exertions, and to bring him to an ex- emplary punishment, the government of New-York, on March 9th, 1774, passed an act of outlawry against him; and a proclamation was issued by W. Tryon, of New-York, offering a reward of fifty pounds to any person who should apprehend him. These proceed- ings of New-York were beheld by him with contempt; and they had no other effect upon the settlers, than to unite them more firmly in their opposition to that government, and in their attach- ment to their own patriotic leader, thus wantonly proscribed. "In services of so dangerous and important a nature, Warner was engaged from the year 1765 to 1775. That year a scene of the highest magnitude and consequence opened upon the world. ■On the 19th of April, the American war was begun by the British troops at Lexington. Happily for the country, it was commenced with such circumstances of insolence and cruelty, as left no room for the people of America to doubt what was the course which they ought to pursue. The time was come, in which total subjection, or the horrors of war, must take place. All America preferred the latter; and the people of the New-Hampshire grants immediately undertook to secure the British forts at Ticonderoga and Crown Point. Allen and Warner immediately engaged in the business. Allen took the command, and Warner raised a body of excellent SETH WARISER. 281 troops in the vicinity of Bennington, and both marched against Ticonderoga. They surprised and took that fortress on the morn- ing of the 10th of May,- and Warner was sent the same day, with a detachment of the troops, to secure Crown Point. He effected the business, and secured the garrison, with all the warlike stores, for the use of the continent. "The same year, Warner received a commission from congress to raise a regiment to assist in the reduction of Canada. He en- gaged in the business with his usual spirit of activity, raised his regiment chiefly among his old acquaintances and friends, the Green Mountain Boys, and joined the army under the command of general Montgomery. The honorable Samuel SafTord, of Ben- nington, was his lieutenant-colonel. Their regiment conducted with great spirit, and acquired high applause, in the action at Longueil, in which the ti-oops designed for the relief of St. John's were totally defeated and dispersed, chiefly by the troops under the command of colonel Warner, The campaign ended about the . 20th of November, in the course of which, Ticonderoga, Crown Point, Chamblee, St. John's, Montreal, and a fleet of eleven sail of vessels, had been captured by the American arms. No man in this campaign had acted with more spirit and enterprise than col- onel Warner. The weather was now become severe, and Warner's men were too miserably clothed to bear a winter's campaign in the severe climate of Canada ; they were accordingly now dis- charged by Montgomery, with particular marks of I'espect, and the most affectionate thanks for their meritorious services. "Warner returned with his men to the New-Hampshire grants, but his mind was more than ever engaged in the cause of his country. Montgomery with a part of his army pressed on to.Qbe- bec, and, on December 31st, was slain in an attempt to carry the city by storm. This event gave an alarm to all the northern part of the colonies, and it became necessary to raise a reinforcement to march to Quebec in the midst of winter. The difficulty of the business suited the genius and ardor of Warner's mind. He was at Woodbury, in Connecticut, when he heard the news of Mont- gomery's defeat and death. He instantly repaired to Bennington, raised a body of men, and marched in the midst of winter to join the American troops at Quebec. The campaign during the winter 85 282 SETH WAR?fER. proved extremely distressing to the American troops. In want of comfortable clothing, barracks, and provisions, most of them were taken by the small-pox, and several died. At the opening of the spring, in May 1776, a large body of British troops arrived at Quebec, to reheve the garrison. The American troops were forced to abandon the blockade, with circumstances of great dis- tress and confusion. Warner chose the most difficult part of the busiuess, remaining always with the rear, picking up the lame and diseased, assisting and encouraging those who were the most un- able to take care of themselves, and generally kept but a few miles in advance of the British, Avho were rapidly pursuing the retreat- ing Americans from post to post. By steadily pursuing this con- duct, he brought off most of the invalids ; and with the corps of the infirm and diseased, he arrived at Ticonderoga, a few days after the body of the army had taken possession of that post. "Highly approving his extraordinary exertions, the American congress, on July 5th, 1776, the day after they had declared inde- pendence, resolved to raise a regiment out of the troops which had served with deputation in Canada. Warner was appointed a colo- nel, SafFord lieutenant -colonel of this regiment; and most of the other officers were persons who had been distinguished by their opposition to the claims and proceedings of New-York. By this appointment he was again placed in a sityation perfectly agreeable to his inclination and genius ; and in conformity to his orders he repaired to Ticonderoga, where he remained till the close of the campaign. "Oji January 16, 1777, the convention of the New-Hampshire grants declared the whole district to be a sovereign and indepen- dent state, to be known and distinguished ever after by the name of Vermont. The committee of safety in New- York were then sitting, and on January 20th, they announced the transaction to congress, complaining in high terms of the conduct of Vermont, censuring it as a dangerous revolt and opposition to lawful author- ity ; and at the same time remonstrating against the proceedings of congress in appointing Warner to the command of a regiment independent of the legislature, and within the bounds of that state; 'especially,' said they, 'as this colonel Warner hath been constantly aud invariably opposed to the legislature of this state ; and bath SETH WARNER. 2g3 been, on that account, proclaimed an outlaw by the late govern- ment thereof. It is absolutely necessary to recall the commissions given to colonel Warner, and the officers under him, as nothing else will do justice.' No measures were taken by congress, at that time, either to interfere in the civil contest between the two states, or to remove the colonel from his command. Anxious to effect this purpose the convention of New-York wrote further on the subject, on March 1st, and among other things, declared, Hhat there was not the least probability that colonel Warner could raise such a number of men as would be an object of public concern.' Congress still declined to dismiss so valuable an officer from their service. On June 23d, congress was obliged to take up the con- troversy between New-York and Vermont ; but instead of proceed- ing to disband the colonel's regiment, on JuneSOth, they resolved, 'that the reason which induced congress to form that corps, was, liiat many officers of different states who had served in Canada, and alleged that they could soon raise a regiment, but were then unprovided for, might be reinstated in the service of the United States.' Nothing can give us a more just idea of the sentiments which the American congress entertained of the patriotic and mil- itary virtues of the colonel, than their refusing to give him up to the repeated solicitations and demands of so respectable and pow- erful a state as that of New-York. "The American army stationed at Ticonderoga were forced to abandon that fortress on July 6, 1777, in a very precipitate and irregular manner. The colonel, with his regiment, retreated along tlie western part of Vermont, through the towns of Orwell, Sud- bury, and Hubardton. At the last of these towns, the advanced corps of the Britisharmy overtook the rear of the American troops, on the morning of the 7th of July. The American army, all but part of three regiments, were gone forward ; these were part of Hale's, Francis', and Warner's regiments. The enemy attacked them with superior numbers, and the highest prospect of success. Francis and Warner opposed them with great spirit and vigor, and no officers or troops could have discovered more courage and firm- ness than they displayed through the whole action. Large rein- forcements of the enemy arriving, it became impossible to make any effectual opposition. Francis fell in a most honorable dis- 284 SETH WARNER. charge of his duty. Hale surrendered with his regiment. Sur- rounded on every side by the enemy, but calm and undaunted, colonel Warner fought his way through all opposition, brought off the troops that refused to capitulate with Hale, checked the enemy in their pursuit, and, contrary to all expectations, arrived safe with his troops at Manchester. To the northward of that town the whole country was deserted. The colonel determined to make a stand at that place ; encouraged by his example and firmness, a body of the militia soon joined him ; and he was once more in a situation to protect the inhabitants, harass the enemy, and break up the advanced parties. "On the 16th of- August, the vicinity of Bennington became the seat of a memorable battle. Colonel Baum had been despatched by general Burgoyne to attack the American troops and destroy the magazines at Bennington. General Stark, who commanded at ~ h at place, had intelligence of the approach of the enemy, and sent orders, on the morning of the 16th, to colonel Warner, at Manches- ter, to march immediately to his assistance. In the meantime. Stark, with the troops which had assembled at Bennington, had at- tacked the enemy under colonel Baum, and, after a severe action, had captured the whole body. Just as the action was finished, intelligence was received that a large reinforcement of the enemy had arrived. Fatigued and exhausted by so long and severe an action. Stark was doubtful whether it was possible for his troops to enter immediately upon another battle with a fresh body of the enemy. At that critical moment Warner arrived with his troops from Manchester. Mortified that he had not been in the action, and determined to have some part in the glory of the day, he urged Stark immediately to commence another action. Stark consented, and the colonel instantly led on his men to battle. The Amer- icans rallied from every part of the field, and the second action became as fierce and decisive as the first. The enemy gave way in every direction; great numbers were slain, and the rest saved themselves altogether by the darkness of the night. Stark ascri- bed the last victory very much to colonels Warner and Herrick ; and spoke in the highest terms of their superior information and activity, as that to which he principally owed his success. The success at Bennington, gave a decisive turn to the affairs of that SETH WARNEE. 285 campaign. Stark, Warner, and the other officers, with their troops, joined the army under general Gates. Victory every where fol- lowed the attempts of the northern army ; and the campaign termi- nated in the surrender of Burgoyne and his whole army at Sarato- ga, on October 17th, 1777. "The contest in the northern department, being in a great mea- sure decided by the capture of Burgoyne, Warner had no further opportunity to discover his prowess in defence of his beloved state, but served occasionally at different places on Hudson river, as the circumstances of the war required, and always with reputation. Despairing of success in the northern parts, the enemy carried the war into the southern states; and neither New-York nor Vermont any longer remained the places of distinguished enterprise. But such had been the fatigues and exertions of the colonel, that when he returned to his family in Bennington, his constitution, naturally firm and vigorous, appeared to be worn down, and nature declined under a complication of disorders, occasioned by the excessive labors and sufferings he had passed through. "Most of those men who have been engaged with uncommon ardor in the cause of their country, have been so swallowed up with the patriotic passion, as to neglect that attention to their pri- vate interests, which other men pursue as the ruling passion. — Thus it proved with colonel Warner: intent at first upon saving a state, and afterwards upon saving a country, his mind was so en- tirely engaged in those pursuits, that he had not made that provi- sion for his family, which, to most of the politicians and land-job- bers, was the ultimate end of all their measures and exertions. With a view the better to support his family, he removed to Wood- bury, where, in the year 1785, he ended an active and useful life, in high estimation among his friends and countrymen. "His family had derived little or no estate from his services. After his death, they applied to the general assembly of Vermont, for a grant of land. The assembly, with a spirit of justice and generosity, remembered the services of colonel Warner, took up the petition, and granted a valuable tract of land to his widow and family; a measure highly honorable to the memory of colonel Warner and of that assembly." — Williams'' Vermont. 25* 286 ISAAC HAYNE, ISAAC HAYNE, Colonel in the American Army. "This gentleman had been a distinguished and very active offi- cer in the American service, previous to the subjugation of Charles- ton. When this event took place, be found himself called to a separation from his family, a direliction of his property, and sub- mission to the conqueror. In this situation he thought it his duty to become a voluntary prisoner, and take his parole. On surren- dering himself, he offered to engage and stand bound on the prin- ciples of honor, to do nothing prejudicial to the British interest until he was exchanged ; but his abilities and services were of such con- sideration to his country, that he was refused a parole, and told he must become a British subject, or submit to close confinement. "His family was then in a distant pait of the country, and in great distress by sickness, and from the ravages of the royalists in their neighborhood. Thus he seemed impelled to acknowledge himself the subject of a government he had relinquished from the ' purest principles, or renounce his tenderest connexions, and leave them without a possibility of assistance, and at that moment whea he hourly expected to hear of the death of an affectionate wife, ill of the small-pox. "In this state of anxiety, he subscribed a declaration of his al- legiance to the king of Great Britain, with this express exceptiony that he should never be required to take up arms against his country. Notwithstanding this, he was soon and repeatedly called upon to arm in support of a government he detested, or to submit to the severest punishment. Brigadier-general Patterson, com- mandant of the garrison, and the intendant of the British policcj a Mr. Simpson, had both assured colonel Hayne, that no such thing would be required ; and added, 'that when the royal army could not defend a country without the aid of its inhabitants, it would be time to quit it.' "Colonel Hayne considered a requisition to act in British ser- vice, after assurances that this would never be required, as a breach of contract, and a release in the eye of conscience, from any obli- gation on his part. Accordingly he took the first opportunity of resuming his arms as an American, and assumed the command of his own regiment; who following their former commander, colonel ISAAC HAVNE. 287 Hayne marched with a respectable body to the relief of his coun- trymen, then endeavoring to drive the British partizans, and keep them within the environs of Charleston. He very unfortunately, in a short time, fell into the hands of a strong British party, sent out for the recovery of a favorite officer,general Williamson, who had left the American cause, and become a devotee to the British government. "As soon as colonel Hayne was captured, he was closely im- prisoned. This was on the 26th of July. He was notified the same day, that a court of officers would assemble the next day, to determine in what point of view he ought to be considered. On the 29th, he was informed, that in consequence of a court of in- quiry held the day before, lord Rawdon and lieutenant-colonel Balfour, had resolved upon his execution within two days. "His astonishment at these summary and illegal proceedings can scarcely be conceived. The sentence seized all classes of people with horror and dismay. A petition headed by the British governor Ball, and signed by a number of royalists, was pre- sented in his behalf, but was totally disregarded. The ladies of Charleston, both whigs and tories, now united in a petition to lord Rawdon, couched in the most eloquent and moving language, pray ing that the valuable life of colonel Hayne might be spared ; but this also was treated with neglect. It was now proposed that col- onel Hayne's children (the mother had recently expired with the small-pox) should, in their mourning habiliments be presented to plead for the life of their only surviving parent: — ^being intro- duced into his presence they fell on their knees, and with clasped hands and weeping eyes they lispedt heir father's name, and plead- ed most earnestly for his life. (Reader ! what is your anticipation ? Do you imagine that lord Rawdon, pitying their motherless con- dition, tenderly embraced these afflicted children, and restored to them the fond embrace of their father? No!! The unfeeling man still remained inexorable ; he suffered even those little ones to plead in vain !) His son, a youth of thirteen, who was permit- ted to stay with his father in prison, beholding his only parent loaded with irons, and condemned to die, was overwhelmed with grief and sorrow? 'Why,' said he, 'my son, will you thus break your father's heart with unavailing sorrow? have I not often told 288 JOHN EAGER HOWABD you that we came into this world to prepare for a better life ? my dear boy your father is prepared, instead then of weeping, rejoice my son, that my troubles are so near an end. To-morrow I set out for immortality. You will accompany me to the place of my departure, and when I am dead, take me and bury me by the side of your mother.' The youth fell on his neck. Oh, my father, my father! I will die with you ! Colonel Hayne would have returned the strong embrace of his son, but alas ! his hands were confined with irons. 'Live,' said he, 'my son, live to honor God by a good life — live to serve your country, and live to take care of your broth- er and little sister !' The next morning colonel Hayne was con- ducted to the place of execution. His son accompanied him. — Soon as they came in sight of the gallows, the father strengthened himself and said — Now show yourself a man ! That tree is the bou ndary of my life's sorrows. Beyond that the wicked cease from troubling, and the weary are at rest. Don't lay too much at heart, my separation from you- — it Avill be but short. It was but lately your mother died. To-day I die, and you, my son, though but young, must soon follow us.' 'Yes, my father,' replied the broken hearted youth, 'I shall shortly follow you, for indeed I feel ihat I cannot live long.' On seeing, therefore, his father in the hands of the execution- er, and then struggling in the halter, he stood like one transfixed and motionless with horror. Till then he had wept incessantly, but as he saw that sight, the fountain of his tears was staunched and he never wept more. He died insane, and in his last moments often called on his father in terms that brought tears from the hard- est heart. JOHN EAGER HOWARD, COLOJVEL IN THE AMERICAN ArMY. For gallantry and firmness, decision of character and sound judgment, colonel Howard was not exceeded by any officer of his rank in the service of his country. With great intelligence and skill in arms, he was one of those heroic spirits on whom general Greene reposed his hopes, during the time he vvas deepest in ad. versity, and in his high determination to recover the south, or per- ish in the attempt. JOHN EAGER HOWARD. 289 He was born June 4th, 1752, near the city of Bahimore. His paternal ancestors were from England, his maternal from Ireland. Burning with the generous enthusiasm of the time, Howard was among the first to enrol hmiself under the standard of American liberty. He was first in commission as a captain, and afterward as major, but he does not appear to have been much in action, un- til he took his station at the head of a regiment in the southern army. Accomplished in tactics, and ripe in experience, although only now in his twenty -seventh year, he was, in all respects, fitted for the operations of the field. Accordingly, no sooner did an opportunity for action present itself, than his valor as a soldier, and his reputation as a comman- der, became conspicuous in the midst of the accomplished and the brave. His brightest laurel was gathered at the Cowpens, where, as- suming to himself the responsibility of the act, he charged with- out orders, and at the point of the bayonet, a party of the enemy superior in number to his own command, and consisting of the flower of the British army. — Life of General Greene. After having thrown the British line into confusion by his fire and unexpected charge; he called out to them, in a loud and com- manding voice, to surrender, and they should receive "good quar- ters." On this summons five hundred of them instantly threw down their arms. His interview, immediately after the action, with general Mor- gan, the commanding officer, was eminently interesting; and were other evidence wanting, shows on how precarious a footing stands the reputation and the life of a warrior. "My dear Howard," said Morgan, cordially pressing his hand as he spoke, "you have given me victory, and I love and honor you; but had you failed in your charge, which you risked without orders, I should have shot you." Previously to this, colonel Howard had distinguished himself a- mong those who, by their gallantry and good conduct, had sus- tained the character of the American arms, and prevented the utter destruction of the forces, m the battle near Camden, where Gates was defeated. 290 WILLIAM RICHARDSON DAVIE. Nor was he entitled to less applause for the spirit and judgment which he afterward displayed at Guilford, Hobkirk's Hill, and the Eutaw Springs; at the latter of which he was severely wounded. But a letter from general Greene, dated November 14th, 1781, to a friend in Maryland, is conclusive as to the military reputation of colonel Howard. "This will be handed to you (says the general) by colonel How- ard, as good an officer as the world affords. He has great ability, and the best disposition to promote the service. My own obliga- tions to him are great — the public's still more so. He deserves a statue of gold no less than the Roman and Grecian heroes. H» has been wounded, but has happily recovered, and now goes home to pay a little attention to his private affairs, and to take the charge of the fifth Maryland regiment, recruiting in your state." — Life of Greene. On the conclusion of the war, he married Miss Chew, daugh- ter of the honorable Benjamin Chew, of Philadelphia. Contented and happy in domestic life, and much occupied with his private affairs, he never sought political honors, but left to others to govern the country which he, by his valor, contributed to set free. He died on the 12th of October, 1827,. on his patrimonial estate, surrounded by a large and respectable family, pre-eminent in af- fluence, and passed the evening of his life in that dignified and felicitous retirement, which a high and unsullied reputation, a peaceful conscience, a cultivated intellect, and polished manners alone can bestow. WILLL4M RICHARDSON DAVIE, COLOXEL-COJIMANDANT OF THE CaVALRY OF NoRTH CAROLINA. Colonel Davie was born in the village of Egremont, in Eng- land, on the 20th of June, 1759. His father, visiting South Caro- lina soon after the peace of 1763, brought with him this son; and returning to England, confided him to the Rev. William Richard- son, his maternal uncle : who becoming much attached to his neph- ew, not only took charge of his education, but adopted him as his son and heir. At the proper age, William was sent to an acade- my in North Carolina ; from whence he was, after a few years, WILLIAM RICHARDSON DA VIE, 291 removed to the college of Nassau-hall, in Princeton, New Jersey., then becoming the resort of most of the southern youth, under the auspices of the learned and respectable doctor Witherspoon, Here he finished his education, graduating in the autumn of 1776, a year memorable in our military as well as civil annals. Returning home, young Davie found himself shut out for a time from the army, as the commissions for the troops just levied had been issued. He went to Salisbury, where he commenced the study of law. The war continuing, contrary to the expectations which generally, prevailed when it began, Davie could no longer resist the wish to plant himself among the defenders of his country. Inducing a worthy and popular friend, rather too old for military service, to raise a troop of dragoons, as the readiest mode of ac- complishing his object, Davie obtained a lieutenancy in this troop. Without delay the captain joined the southern army, and soon af- terward returned home on a furlough. The command of the troop devolving on lieutenant Davie, it was, at his request, annexed to the legion of count Pulaski, where captain Davie continued until promoted by major-general Lincoln to the station of brigade-major of cavalry. In this office Davie served until the affair at Stono, devoting his leisure to the acquirement of professional knowledge, and rising fast in the esteem of the general and the army. When Lincoln attempted to dislodge lieutenant-colonel Maitland from his entrenched camp on the Stono, Davie received a severe wound, and was removed from camp to the hospital in Charleston, where he was confined five months. Soon after his recovery, he was empowered by the government of North Carolina to raise a small legionary corps, consisting of one troop of dragoons and two companies of mounted infantry ; at the head of which he was placed, with the rank of major. Quickly succeeding in completing his corps, in whose equip- ment he expended the last remaining shilling of an estate be- queathed to him by his uncle, he took the field, and was sedulously engaged in protecting the country between Charlotte and Camden from the enemy's predatory excursions. On the fatal 19th of Au- gust, he was hastening with his corps to join the army, when he met our dispersed and flying troops. He nevertheless continued to advance towards the conqueror, and :by his prudence.^ zeal, and 292 WILLIAM RICHARDSON DAVIE. vigilance, saved a few of our wagons, and many of our stragglers. Acquainted with the movement of Sumpter, and justly apprehend- ing that he would be destroyed unless speedily advised of the de- feat of Gates, he despatched immediately a courier to that officer, communicating what had happened ; performing, in the midst of distress and confusion, the part of an experienced captain. So much was his conduct respected by the government of North Carolina, that he was in the course of September promoted to the rank of colonel-commandant of the cavalry of the state. At the two gloomiest epochs of the southern war, soon after the fall of Charleston and the overthrow of Gates, it was the good fortune of colonel Davie to be the first to shed a gleam through the surrounding darkness, and give hope to the country by the brilliancy of his exploits. In one instance, without loss or injury on his part, he entirely destroyed an escort of provisions, taking forty prisoners, with their horses and arms. In the other, under the immediate eye of a large British force, which was actually beating to arms to attack him, he routed a party stronger than his own, killing and wounding sixty of the enemy, and carrying off with him ninety-sLx horses, and one hundred and twenty stand of arms. When lord Cornwallis entered Charlotte, a small village in North Carolina, colonel Davie, at the head of his detachment, threw himself in his front, determined to give him a specimen of the firmness and gallantry with which the inhabitants of the place were prepared to dispute with his lordship their native soil. Colonel Tarlton's legion formed the British van, led by major Hanger, the commander himself being confined by sickness. When that celebrated corps had advanced near to the centre of the village, where the Americans were posted, Davie poured into it so destructive a fire, that it immediately wheeled and retired in dis- order. Being rallied on the commons, and again led on to the charge, it received on the same spot another fire with similar effect. Lord Cornwallis, witnessing the confusion thus produced among his choicest troops, rode up in person, and in a tone of dissatisfac- tion upbraided the legion with unsoldierly conduct, reminding it of its former exploits and reputation. Pressed on his flanks by the British infantry, colonel Davie had now fallen back to a new and well selected position. To dislodge WILLIAM RICHARDSON DAVIE. 293 him from this, the legion cavalry advanced on him a third time, in rapid charge, in full view of their commander-in-chief, but in vain. Another fire from the American marksmen killed several of their officers, wounded major Hanger, and repulsed them again with increased confusion. The main body of the British being now ^vithin musket shot, the American leader abandoned the conte.st. It was by strokes like these, that he seriously crippled and inti- midated his enemy, acquired an elevated standing in the estimation of his friends, and served very essentially the interest of freedom. In this situation he was found by general Greene, on assuming (he command of the southern army; whose attention had been occupied, from his entrance into North Carolina, in remedying the disorder in the quarter-master and commissary departments. To the first, Carrington had been called; and Davie was now in- iUiced to take upon himself the last, much as he preferred the sta- tion he then possessed. At the head of this department, colonel Davie remained throughout the trying campaign which followed, contributing greatly by his talents, his zeal, his local knowledge, and his influence, to the maintenance of the difiicult and successful operations which followed. While before Ninety-Six, Greene, foreseeing the difficulties again to be encountered, in consequence ')f the accession offeree to the enemy by the arrival of three regi- ments from Ireland, determined to send a confidential officer to the legislature of North Carolina, then in session, to represent to them his relative condition, and to urge their adoption of effectual mea- sures, without delay, for the collection of magazines of provisions, and the reinforcement of the ami}'. Colonel Davie was selected by Greene for this important mission, and immediately repaired to the seat of government, where he ably and faithfully exertcBd himself to give effect to the views of his general. The effect of the capture of Cornwallis assuring the quick re- turn of peace, colonel Davie returned home, and resumed the pro- fession with the practice of the law, in the town of Halifax, on the Roanoake. He was afterward governor of North Carolina, and one of our ambassadors to France at a very portentous conjuncture. Although younger by several years, than either Pickens, Ma- rion, or Sumpter, colonel Davie possessed talents of a higher order, and was much more accomplished in education and manners, than 26 294 HENRY DEARBORN. either of them. For the comeliness of his person, his martial air^ his excellence in horsemanship, and his consummate powers of field eloquence, he had scarcely an equal in the armies of the country. But his chief excellence lay in the magnanimity and generosity of his soul, his daring courage, his vigilance and ad- dress, and his unrelaxing activity and endurance of toil. If he was less frequently engaged in actual combat than either of his three compeers, it was not because he was inferior to either of them in enterprise or love of battle. His district being more in- terior, was at first less frequently invaded by British detachments. When, however, lord Cornwallis ultimately advanced into that quarter, his scouts and foraging parties found in colonel Davie and his brave associates, as formidable an enemy as they had ever encountered. HENRY DEARBORN, Colonel in the American Arjiy. The subjoined sketch of the revolutionary services rendered bv general Dearborn, is collected from his brothers in arms. When the British sent a detachment to destroy the military stores in the vicinity of Lexington, Mr. Dearborn, then a young gentleman in the study of medicine, resided at Nottingham, in New-Hampshire. Animated by the patriotic resistance of the Americans, immediately upon being informed of the battle, he assembled the inhabitants, and observed that the time had now ar- rived when the rights of the American people must be vindicated by arms, or an odious despotism would forever be rivetted upon them. The militia had already gathered, and, impressed with these sentiments, a company of sixty-five men, armed and ac- coutred, paraded at 10 o'clock of the next day after the battle of Lexington. Dearborn advanced with them in such rapidity that they reached Cambridge common, a distance of fifty miles, in twenty hours. After remaining at Cambridge for several days, there being no immediate occasion for their services, they returned. Dearborn was soon after commissioned a captain in one of the New-Hampshire regiments, under the command of colonel Stark, and such was his popularity, and the confidence of the people in jhis bravery and conduct, that in ten days from the time he received HENRY DEARBORN. 295 his commission, he enlisted a full company, and again marched to Cambridge. On the glorious seventeenth of June, information was received at Mystic, (now Medford,) where Dearborn was station- ed, that the British were preparing to come out from Boston and storm the works which had been thrown up on Breed's Hill, the night before, by the Americans. The regiment to which he was attached was immediately pa- raded and marched to Charleston-Neck. Dearborn's company composed the flank guard to the regiment. They crossed the Keck under a galling fire from the Biitish men of war and floating batteries, and having sustained some loss, arrived at the heights. The action soon commenced, and the Americans stood their ground imtil their ammunition was expended, and they could no longer beat otf the British bayonets with the but-ends of their muskets. Dearborn carried a fusee into the battle of Bunker's Hill, and fired regularly with his men. The next arduous service in which he was engaged, was the expedition to Canada, through the wilds of Kennebec, under the command of general Arnold. He was not ordered on this dan- gerous and difficult service, but persuaded a captain who was drafted, to exchange places with him. Thirty-two days were em- ployed in traversing the hideous wilderness between the settle- ments on the Kennebec and the Chaudiere, in which every hard- ship and fatigue of which human nature is capable, was endured indiscriminately by the officers and troops. On the highlandsy be- tween the Kennebec and St. Lawrence, the remnant of provisions ■was divided among the companies, who were directed to make the best of their way in separate divisions to the settlement of Chaudiere. The last fragment of food in Dearborn's company was shortly consumed, and he was reduced to the extremity of di- viding a large dog which accompanied him, with his associates. When they reached the Chaudiere, from cold, extreme hardship, and want of sustenance, his strength failed him, and he was un- able to walk but a short distance without walking into the river to refrigerate and stimulate his limbs. With difficulty he reached a poor hut on the Chaudiere, where he told his men he could ac- company them no further, animated them forward to a glorious discharge of their dutv, and would suffer no one to remain to at- 296 HENRY DEARBORN. tend him in his illness. His company left him with tears in their eyes, expecting to see him no more. Dearborn was here seized with a violent fever, during which his life was in danger for ten days, without physician or medicine, and with scarcely the com- mon necessaries of life. His fine constitution at last surmounted his disease, and as soon as he was able to mount a horse, he pro- ceeded to Point Levi, crossed over to Wolf's Cove, and made his unexpected appearance at the head of his company a few days be- fore the assault on Quebec. At four o'clock in the morning of the 31st December, in a severe snow-storm, and in a climate that vies with Norway in tempest and in intense cold, the attack was com- menced. Dearborn was attached to the corps under general Ar- nold, who was wounded early in the action, and carried from the field. Morgan succeeded to the command, and "with a voice loud- er than the tempest," animated the troops as they stormed the first barrier and entered the town. Montgomery had already bled on immoi'tal ground, and his division being repulsed, the corps under Morgan was exposed to a sanguinary but unavailing contest. — From the windows of the store-houses, each a castle, and from the tops of the parapets, a destructive fii'e was poured upon the assail- ants. In vain was the second barrier gained by scaling ladders; double ranks of soldiers presented a forest of bayonets below, and threatened inevitable destruction to any one who should leap from the walls. Dearborn maintained for a long time this desperate Avarfare, until at last he and the remnant of his company were over- powered by a sortie of two hundred men, with field-pieces, who attacked him in front and rear, in a short street, and compelled him to surrender. The whole corps, originally led on by Arnold, were killed or made prisoners of war. Dearborn was now put into rigid confinement, with a number of other officers, who were not allowed to converse with each other unless in the presence of the officer of the guard. While in prison he was urgently solicited by the English officers to join the British ; was promised a colonel's commission if he would accept, and was assured, if he refused, that he would be sent out to England in the spring, and be inevitably hanged as a rebel. The only reply he made to their solicitations or menaces, was that he had taken up arms in defence of the liberties and the rights of his country ; that HENEY DEARBORN. 297 he never would disgrace himself, or dishonor his profession, by receiving any appointment under Great Britain, but he was ready to meet death in any shape rather than relinquish the glorious cause he had espoused. In May, 177G, colonel Meigs and himself were permitted to re- turn on their parole. They were sent round to Halifax in a ship of war, and treated with the usual contempt and hauteur of En- glish officers, who would not deign to speak to Americans, nor even allow them to walk the same side of the quarter-deck with them- selves. They were put ashore in Penobscot bay, and returned by land. In the March following. Dearborn was exchanged and appointed major to the third New-Hampshire regiment, commanded by colonel Schammell. ■ In May, he arrived at Ticonderoga, and was constantly in the rear guard, skirmishing with the British and Indians, in the retreat of St. Clair, when pressed on by Burgoyne's army. When the advance of Burgoyne was checked, and he encamp- ed on the heights of Saratoga, Dearborn was appointed lieutenant- colonel commandant of a partisan corps of three hundred men, stationed in front, to act as a corps of observation in concert with Morgan's riflemen. In the famous engagement of the 19th of September, colonel Morgan himself commenced the encounter by driving in the out-posts and picket-guards of the right wing of the British army, which was commanded by general Burgoyne in per- son. In the hard fought battle of the 7th of October, he was in the division of genei'al Arnold, who commenced a furious and per- severing attack upon the right wing of the British forces. Wliilst Arnold pressed hard on the enemy, Dearborn was ordered to pass the right, and take possession of eight heavy cannon, which played over the British into the American lines. In executing this order he was charged by a corps of light infantry, which he repulsed with iixed bayonets, gained the eminence, took the cannon and corps of artillery attached to them, and having disposed of them, made a rapid movement into the rear of the British lines, and gave a full fire before his approach was discovered. The British were soon after forced to a precipitate retreat, and Dearborn assisted in storming their works through the whole extent, under a tre- mendous fire of grape and mvisketry, Arnold was wounded in 26* 298 HENRY DEAHEOEX. the same leg which suffered when Dearborn followed him to the assault of Quebec, and was repulsed from the works after having gained a temporary possession of them; but lieutenant-colonel Brooks having gained the left of the encampment, was enabled to maintain his ground. During the long contested battle which de- cided the fate of Burgoyne's army, Dearborn was unable to rest or to take any refreshments, from day -light until late at night. — The succeeding winter he passed in camp, at Valley Forge, with the main body of the American army, commanded by general Washington in person. At the battle of Monmouth, the spirited conduct of colonel Dear- born, and the corps under his command, attracted particularly the attention of the commander-in-chief After Lee had made a pre- cipitate and unexpected retreat, Washington, among other meas- ures which he took to check the advance of the British, ordered Dearborn, with three hundred and fifty men, to attack a body o-f troops which were passing through an orchard on the right wing of the enemy. The Americans advanced under a heavy fire, Mth a rapid movement, and shouldered arms. The enemy filed off" and formed on the edge of a morass; the Americans Avheeled to the right, received their second fire with shouldered arms; marched up till within eight rods, dressed, gave a full fire, and charged bayonets. The British having sustained considerable loss, fled with precipitation across the morass, where they were protected by tlie main body of the army. "What troops are those ?'' enquired Washington, with evident pleasure at their gallant con- duct — "Full blooded Yankees, from New-Hampshire, sir," replied Dearborn. When the disaffection and treason of Arnold transpired, he was stationed at West Point, and was officer of the day at the execu- tion of major Andre. In 1781, he was appointed deputy-quartcr-master-general, with the rank of colonel, and served in that capacity at the siege of York-Town. In short, there was scarcely a battle between York- Town and Quebec, during the long protracted war, in which col- onel Dearborn did not take a brave, active, and conspicuous part. JOSEPH REED. 299 JOSEPH REED, Adjutant-General in the American Armv. Joseph Reed, president of the state of Pennsylvania, was born m the state of New-Jersey, the27th of August, A. D. 1741. In the year 1757, at the early age of sixteen, he graduated with con- siderable honor, at Princeton college. "Having studied the law with Richard Stockton, Esq. an emi- nent counsellor of that place, he visited England and pursued his studies in the temple, until the disturbances which first broke out in the colonies on the passage of the stamp act. On his return to his native country, he commenced the practice of the law, and bore a distinguished part in the political commotions of the day. Hav- ing married the daughter of Dennis De Berdt, an eminent mer- chant of London, and, before the American revolution, agent for the province of Massachusetts, he soon after returned to America, and practised the law with eminent success in the city of Phila- delphia. "Finding that reconciliation with the mother country was not to be accomplished without the sacrifice of honor as well as liberty, • he became one of the most zealous advocates of independence. — In 1774, he was appointed one of the committee of correspondence of Philadelphia, and afterward president of the convention, and subsequently, member of the continental congress. On the for- mation of the army, he resigned a lucrative practice, which he was enjoying in Philadelphia, and repaired to the camp at Cam- bridge, where he was appointed an aid-de-camp and secretary to general Washington ; and although merely acting as a volunteer, he displayed in this campaign, on many occasions, the greatest courage and military ability. At the opening of the campaign in 177C), on the promotion of general Gates, he was advanced, at the special recommendation of general Washington, to the post of ad- jutant-general, and bore an active part in this campaign, his local knowledge of the country being eminently useful in the afiair at Trenton, and at the battle of Princeton. In the course of these events, and the constant follower of his fortunes, he enjoyed the confidence and esteem of the commander-in-chief At the end of the year he resigned the office of adjutant-general, and was imme- diately appointed a general officer, with a view to the command of 300 JOSEPH HEED. cavalry; but, owing to the difficulty of raising troops, and the very detached parties in which they were employed, he was prevented from acting in that station. He still attended the army, and from the entrance of the British army into Pennsylvania, till the close of the campaign of 1777, he was seldom absent. He was enga- ged at the battle of Germantown, and at White Marsh, assisted general Porter in drawing up the militia. In 1778, he was ap- pointed a member of congress, and signed the articles of confede- ration. "About this time the British commissioners, governor Johnstone, lord Carlisle, and Mr. Eden, invested with the power to treat of peace, arrived in America, and governor Johnstone, the principal of them, addressed private letters to Henry Laurens, Joseph Reed, Francis Dana, and Robert Morris, offering them many advantages in case they .';houldlend themselves to his views. Private infor- mation was communicated from governor Johnstone to general Reed, that in case he would exert his abilities to promote a recon- ciliation, ten thousand pounds sterling, and the most valuable office in the colonies, were at his disposal; to which Mr. Reed made this memorable reply: — Hhat he was not loorth purchasing, but that, such as he loas, the king of Great Britain urns not rich enough to do it? These transactions caused a resolution in congress, by which they refused to hold any further communication with that commissioner. Governor Johnstone, on his return to England, denied in parliament ever having made such offers ; in consequence of which general Reed published a pamphlet, in which the whole transaction was clearly and satisfactorily proved, and which was extensively circulated both in England and America. "In 1778, he was unanimously elected president of the supreme executive council of the state of Pennsylvania; to which office he was elected annually, with equal unanimity, for the constitutional period of three years. About this time there existed violent par- ties in the state, and several serious commotions occurred, particu- larly a large armed insurrection, in the city of Philadelphia, which he suppressed, and rescued a number of distinguished citizens from the most imminent danger of their lives, at the risk of his own ; for which he received a vote of thanks from the legislature of the state. JOSEPH REED. 301 "At the time of the defection of the Pennsyhania line, gov- ernor Reed exerted himself strenuously to bring back the revolters, in which he ultimately succeeded. Amidst the most ditTicult and trying scenes, his administration exhibited the most disinterested zeal and firmness of decision. In the civil part of his character, his knowledge of the law was very Useful in a new and unsettled government ; so that, although he found it in no small weakness and confusion, he left it, at the expiration of his term of office, in as much tranquility and energy as could be expected from the time and circumstances of the war. In the year 1781, on the ex- piration of his term of office, he returned to the duties of his pro- fession. "General Reed was very fortunate in his military career, for, although he was in almost every engagement in the northern and eastern section of the union, during the war, he never was wound- ed : he had three horses killed under him, one at the battle of Bran- dywine, one in the skirmish of White Marsh, and one at the bat- tle of Monmouth. During the whole of the war, he enjoyed the confidence of generals Washington, Greene, Wayne, Steuben, La- fayette, and many others of the most distinguished characters of tlie revolution, with whom he was in the habits of the most confi- dential intercourse and correspondence. The friendship that ex- isted between genei-al Reed and general Greene, is particularly mentioned by the biographer of general Greene. 'Among the many inestimable friends who attached themselves to him, during hii military career, there w as no one whom general Greene prized more, or more justly, than the late governor Reed of Pennsylvania. It was before this gentleman had immortalized himself by his cel- ebrated reply to the agent of corruption, that these two distinguish- ed patriots had begun to feel for each other the sympathy of con- genial souls. Mr. Reed had accompanied general Washington to Boston, when he first took command of the American army ; there he became acquainted with Greene, and, as was almost invariably the case with those who became acquainted him, and had hearts to acknowledge his worth, a friendship ensued which lasted with their lives.' Had the life of general Reed been sufficiently pro- longed, he would have discharged, in a manner worthy of the sub- ject, the debt of national gratitude to which the efforts of the biog- 302 PETER HORRY. rapher of general Greene, have been successfully dedicated, who had in his possession the outlines of a sketch of the life of general Greene by his friend. "In the year 1784, he again visited England, for the sake of his health ; but his voyage was attended with but little effect, as in the following year he fell a victim to a disease, most probably brought on by the fatigue and exposure to which he was constantly sub- jected. In private life he was accomplished in his manners, pure in his morals, fervent and faithful in his attachments. "On the 5th of March, 1785, in the forty-third year of his age,too soon for his country and friends, he departed a life, active, useful, and glorious. His remains were interred in the Presbyterian ground in Arch street, in the city of Philadelphia, attended by the president and executive council, and the speaker and the general assembly of the state. — American Biographical Dictionary/. PETER HORRY, COLOXEL IN THE AmERICAX ArmY. This officer was a descendant of one of the many protestant families who removed to Carolina, from France, after the revoca- tion of the edict of Nantz. He early took up arms in the defence of his country ; and through all the trials of peril and privation ex- perienced by Marion's brigade, gave ample proof his strict integ- rity and undaunted courage. The fame which he acquired as oive of the band of heroes who defended the post at Sullivan's Island, was never tarnished. For although, in a moment of despondency, he once said to his general, 'I fear our happy days are all gone by;' it was not the consequences that might accrue to himself, but the miseries apprehended for his country, that caused the excla- mation ; for never were his principles shaken ; never, even for a moment, did the thought of submission enter his bosom. No man more eagerly sought the foe ; none braved danger with greater in- trepidity, or more strenuously endeavored to sustain the military reputation of his country. A ludicrous story is told of him, that, though probably varied in the narration, has its foundation in truth. "Colonel Horry was once ordered to await the approach of a British detachment in ambuscade; a service which he performed with such skill that he had them completely within his power; when JOHN JAMES, 303 from a dreadful impediment in his speech, by which he was afflic- ted, he could not articulate the word y?rc.' In vain he made the attempt it was fi-i-fi-fi, but he could get no further. At length, irritated almost to madness, he exclaimed, ^shoot, damn you, shoot— yonkmw very well what I would say — shoot, shoot, and bedamn'd to youP He was present in every engagement of consequence, and on all occasions increased his reputation. At Quinby, colonel Baxter, a gallant soldier, possessed of great cool- ness, and still greater simplicity of character, called out, 'I am wounded, colonel!' Horry replied, 'think no more of it, Baxter, but stand to your post.' 'But I can't stand, colonel ; I am wounded a second time!' 'Then lie down, Baxter, but quit not your post.' 'Colonel (cried the wounded man) they have shot me again, and if I remain any longer here, I shall be shot to pieces.' 'Be it so, Bax- ter, but stir not.' He obeyed the order and actually received a fourth wound before the engagement ended." — Gardai's AneciTs. JOHN JAMES, Major in thp: American Army, Was born in Ireland, in 1732, and was the son of an officer who had served king William in his wars in Ireland against king James, This circumstance was the origin of the name of Williamsburg, which is now attached to one of the districts of Carolina. The elder James, with his family and several of his neighbors, migrated to that district in 1733, made the first settlement there, and in honor of king William, gave his name to a village laid out on the east bank of Black river. To this district major James, when an in- fant, was brought by his parents. His first recollections were those of a stockade fort, and of war between the new settlers and the natives. The former were often reduced to great straits, in procuring the necessaries of life, and in defending themselves against the Indians. In this then frontier settlement, major James, Mr. James Bradley, and other compatriots of the revolution, were trained up to defend and love their country. Their opportunities for acquiring liberal educations were slender, but for obtaining religious instruction wer« very ample. They were brought up under the eye and pastoral care of the Rev. John Rae, a Presby- terian minister, who accompanied his congregatipa in their mi- 304 JOHN JAMES. gration from Ireland to Carolina. When the revolution comnienced in 1775, major James had acquired a considerable portion both of reputation and property. He was a captain of militia under the crown. Disapproving of the measures of the British government, he resigned his royal commission, but was soon after reinstated by a popular vote. In the year 1776, he marched with his company to the defence of Charleston. In the year 1779, he was with gen- eral Moultrie on his retreat before general Prevost, and command- ed one hundred and twenty riflemen in the skirmish of Tullifinny • When Charleston was besieged in 1780, major James marched to its defence ; but governor Rutledge ordered him back to embody the country militia. The town having fallen, he was employed by his countrymen to wait on the conquerors, and to inquire of them what terms they would give. On finding that nothing short of unconditional submission, and the resumption of the character and duties of British subjects, would be accepted, he abruptly broken off all negotiation, and, rejoining his friends, formed the stamina of the distinguished corps known in the latter periods of the revo- lutionary war by the name of ]Marion's brigade. In the course of this cruel and desultoiy warfare, major James was reduced from easy circumstances to poverty. All his moveable property was carried off, and every house on his plantation burnt; but he bore up under these misfortunes, and devoted, not only all his posses- sions, but life itself, for the good of his country. After Greene, as commander-in-chief, had superseded Marion, major James conti- nued under the former, and fought with him at the battle of Eu- taw. The corps with which he served consisted mostly of rifle- men, and were each served with twenty-four rounds of cartridges. Many of them expended the whole, and most of them twenty of these, in firing on the enemy. As they were in the habit of taking aim, their shot seldom failed of doing execution. Shortly after this action, major James and general Marion were both elected members of the state legislature. Before the general had rejoined his brigade, it was unexpectedly attacked, and after retreating, was pursued by a party of the British, commanded by colonel Thompson. In this retreat, major James, being mounted, was nearly overtaken by two British dragoons, but kept them from cutting him down by a judicious use of his pistols, and escaped EV.\Jf EDWARDS. 305 by leaping a chasm in a bridge, of twenty feet width. The dra- goons did not follow. The major being out of their reach, rallied his men, brought them back to the charge, and stopped the pro- gi-ess of the enemy. When the war was nearly over, he resigned his commission, and, like another Cincinnatus, returned to his farm, and devoted the remainder of his days to the improvement of his property and the education of his children. In the year 1791, he died with the composure and fortitude of a Christian hero. — Ramsay's History of South Carolina. EVAN EDWARDS, Major in the American Army. The following interesting account is taken from Garden's "Anecdotes of the Revolutionary War." ^' Among the' many meritorious officers who gained distinction in the service, there were few who deserved better, or in a more extensive degree obtained, the respect of the public, and affec- tionate esteem of his military associates, than major Edwards. — The major was of the Baptist persuasion, and originally designed for the ministry ; but, imbibing the military spirit of the times, he entered the army, and appeared, at the commencement of the war, as one of the defenders of Fort Washington. A brave and stubborn resistance could not save the post, which fell into the hands of the enemy, and Edwards became a prisoner. I have often heard him make a .jest of the whimsical and fantastical fig- ure which he exhibited on this occasion. 'It was not to be won- dered,' he said, 'that, starch in person, emaciated as an anatom}', •with rueful countenance, rendered more ghastly by misfortune, my dress partly military, but showing much of a clerical cut, the risibility of the conquerors should have been very highly excited. One of the leaders of the successful assailants, anxious to excite a still higher degree of merriment, ordered me to ascend a cart, and as a genuine specimen of a rebel officer, directed that I should be paraded through the principal streets of New-York. I was much amused by the exclamation of a Scottish female follower of the camp, who called to a companion, 'Quick, quick, lassie, rin hither a wee, and devart yoursel' ; they've cotch'd a braw and bonny rebel ; 'twill do ye guid to laugh at him.' Hooting and derision 27 •306 NATHAN HALE. attended my whole career, and at the conclusion of the farce I was committed to prison.' "In the eventful changes of the war, it so happened that the very individual who had so ungenerously abused his power, be- came a captive, experiencing the additional mortification of yield- ing his sword into the hands of the man whom he so lately had treated with scornful indignity. Struck with the singularity of the rencounter, and thoroughly ashamed of his former behavior, he with frankness said, 'You are the last man, sir, that I wished to meet on such an occasion, for no one have I ever so wantonly offended : from you I have nothing to look for but merited retalia- tion.' 'Not a word more on the subject, I beseech you, sir,' was the reply of Edwards ; 'the surrender of your sword destroyed every recollection of former animosity : rest assured, therefore, that while you remain with us, it will be equally my pride and pleasure to soothe the pains of captivity, and to render you every service in my power.' " NATHAN HALE, Captain in the American Army. After the unfortunate engagement on Long Island, general Washington called acouncil of war, who determined on an imme- diate retreat to New-York. The intention was prudently concealed from the arm}^, who knew not whither they were going, but ima- gined it was to attack the enemy. The field artillery, tents, bag- gage, and about nine tliousand men, were conveyed to the city of New-York, over the East river, more than a mile wide, in less than thirteen hours, and without the knowledge of the British, though not six hundred yards distant. Providence in a remarkable man- ner favored the retreating army. The wind, which seemed to prevent the troops getting over at the appointed hour, afterward shifted to their wishes. Perhaps the fate of America was never suspended by a more brittle thread than previously to this memorable retreat. A spec- tacle is here presented of an army destined for the defence of a great continent, driven to the narrow borders of. an island, with a victorious army double its number in front, with navigable waters m its rear; constantly liable to have its communication cut off by XATHAN HALE, 307 the enemy's navy, and every moment exposed to an attack. The presence of mind which animated the commander-in-chief in this critical situation, the prudence with which all the necessary mea- sures were executed, redounded as much or more to his honor than the most brilliant victories. An army, to which America looked for safety, preserved ; a general who was considered as an host him- self, saved for the future necessities of his country. Had not, how- ever, the circumstances of the night, of the wind and weather, been favorable, the plan, however well concerted, must have been defeated. To a good Providence, therefore, are the people of America, indebted for the complete success of an enterprise so im- portant in its consequences. This retreat left the British in complete possession of Long Island. What would be their future operations remained uncer- tain. To obtain information of their situation, their strength, and future movements, was of high importance. For this purpose, gen- eral Washington, applied to colonel Knowlton, who commanded a regiment of light infantry, which formed the rear of the American army, and desired him to adopt some mode of gaining the necessary information. Colonel Knowlton communicated this request to captain Nathan EL\le, of Connecticut, who was a captain in his regiment. This young officer, animated by a sense of duty, and consider- ing that an opportunity presented itself by which he might be use- ful to his country, at once offered himself a volunteer for this haz" ardous service. He passed in disguise to Long Island, and exam- ined every part of the British army, and obtained the best possi- ble information respecting their situation and future operations. In his attempt to return, he was apprehended, carried before Sir William Howe, and the proof of his object was so clear, that he frankly acknowledged who he was, and what were his views. Sir William Howe, at once gave an order to have him executed the next morning. This order was accordingly executed in the most unfeeling man- ner, and by as great a savage as ever disgraced humanity, A clergyman, whose attendance he desired, was refused him; a Bible, for a few moments' devotion, was not procured, although he wished it. Letters which, on the morning of his execution, he wrote to 308 NATHAN HALE. his mother and other friends, were destroyed ; and this very extra* ordinary reason given by the provost-mai-tial, ^^That the rebels should not know they had a man in their army who could die with so much firmness!''' Unknown to all around him, without a single friend to offer him the least consolation, thus fell as amiable and worthy a young man as America could boast, with this as his dying observation, that "Ae only lamented that he had but one life to lose for his country. Although the manner of this execution will ever be abhorred by every friend to humanity and religion, yet there cannot be a question but that the sentence was conformable to the rules of \var» and the practice of nations in similiar cases. It is, however, but justice to the character of captain Hale, to observe, that his motives for engaging in the service were entirely different from those which generally influence others in similar circumstances. Neither expectation of promotion, nor pecuniary reward, induced him to this attempt. A sense of duty, a hope that he might in this way be useful to his country, and an opinioa which he had adopted, that every kind of service necessary to the general good, became honorable by being necessary, were the great motives which induced him to engage in an enterprise by which his connexions lost an amiable friend, and his country one of its most promising supporters. The fate of this unfortunate young man, excites the most inter- esting reflections. To see such a character, in the flower of youth, cheerfully treading in the most hazardous paths, influenced bj' the purest intentions, and only emulous to do good to his country, with- out the imputation of a crime, fall a victim to policy, must have been wounding to the feelings even of his enemies. Should a comparison be drawn between major Andre and cap- tain Hale, injustice would be done to the latter, should he not be placed on an equal ground with the former. While almost every historian of the American revolution has celebrated the virtues, and lamented the fate of Andre, Hale has remained unnoticed, and it is scarcely known such a character existed. To the memory of Andre, his country has erected the most magnificent monuments, and bestowed on his family the highest FRANCIS MAEION. 309 honors and most liberal rewards. To the memory of Hale, not a stone has been erected, nor an inscription to preserve his ashes from insult. FRANCIS MARION, Colonel in the American Armv. Francis Marion, colonel in the regular service, and brigadier- general in the militia of South Carolina, was born in the vicinity of George Town, in the year 1733. To portray the meteor-like course of hardihood and exploit traced by general Marion and his heroic followers, would constitute a picture rich in admiration and delight to the lovers of bravery and romantic adventure. Never was an officer better suited to the times in which he lived, and themuation in which it was his for- tune to act. For stratagems, unlooked-for enterprises against the enemy, and devices for concealing his own position and move- ments, he had no rival. Never in a single instance, was he over- taken in his course, or discovered in his hiding-place. Even some of his own party, anxious for his safety, — and well acquainted with many of the places of his retreat, have sought for him whole days in his immediate neighborhood without finding him. Sud- denly and unexpectedly, in some distant point, he would again ap- pear, pouncing upon his enemy like the eagle upon his prey. — These high and rare qualities conducted him repeatedly into the arms of victory, when the force encountered was tenfold the num- ber that he commanded. Young Marion at the age of sixteen, entered on board a vessel bound to the West Indies, with a determination to fit himself for a seafaring life. On his outward passage, the little schooner in which he embarked, was suddenly attacked by some monstrous fish, prob- ably a thorn-back whale, who gave it such a terrible stroke with his tail as started a plank. The frightened crew flew to their pumps, but in vain ; for the briny flood rushed with such fury into their vessel, that they were glad to quit her, and tumble as fast as they could into their little jolly boat. The event showed (hat this was but a leap "owi of the frying pan into the fire;'''' for their schooner went down so suddenly as not to give them time to fake a mouthful of food with them, not even so much as a bro^vn biscuit 27* 310 FRANCIS MARIOX. or a pint of water. After three wretched days of feverish hunger and thirst, they agreed to kill a little cabin dog, who had swam to them from the schooner just before she sunk. On his raw jlesh they feasted without restraint; but the hlood they preserved with more economj^, to cool their parched lips. In a few days, how- ever, their own blood for lack of cooling food, became so fiery hot as to scald their brain to frenzy. About the tenth day, the captain and mate leaped overboard, raving mad; and the day following^ the two remaining seamen expired in the bottom of the boat, pite- ously crying to the last for icater ! water ! Scarcely was this mel- ancholy scene concluded before a vessel hove in sight, standing directly for the boat, as if purposely sent to save the child that was tossing in it on the gloomy waves. Little Marion was so weak tlA he could not stir hand or foot t& climb up the side of the vessel.^ The captain, however, soon had him on board ; and by means of, chocolate and turtle broth, spar- ingly given him,at first, recruited him so fasty that, by the time he reached his native shores, he was in much better health than ever. So that on his return to his friends, it was founds as is often the case, that what was at first looked on as a great misfortune, had proved a very noble blessing. His constitution seemed renewed^ his frame commenced a second and rapid gi'owth ; while his cheeks, quitting their pale cast, assumed a bright and healthy olive. Ac- cording to the best accounts, Marion never thought of another trip to sea, but continued in his native parish, in that most independ- ent and happy of all callings, a cultivator of the earth, till his 27th j'ear. — Wecjiis' Life of Clarion. Among the few who escaped was young Marion. After reach- ing land, Marion relinquished his original plan of life, and en- gaged in the labors of agriculture. In this occupation he contin- ued until 1759, v.hcn he became a soldier, and was appointed a lieutenant in a company of volunteers, raised for an expedition against the Cherokee Indians, commanded by captain William Moultrie, (since general Moultrie.) As soon as the war broke out between the colonies and the mo- ther country, Marion was called to the command of a company in the first corps raised by the state of South Carolina. He was >;oon afterward promoted to a majority, and served in that rank FRANCIS MARIOX, 311 under colonel Moultrie, in his intrepid defence of Fort Moultrie, against the combined attack of Sir Henry Clinton and Sir Peter Parker, on the 2d of June, 1776. He was afterward placed at the head of a regiment as lieutenant-colonel commandant, in which capacity he served during the siege of Charleston; when, having fractured his leg by some accident, he became incapable of mili- tary duty, and, fortunately for his country, escaped the captivity to which the garrison was, in the sequel, forced to submit. When Charleston fell into the enemy's hands, lieutenant-colo- nel Marion abandoned his state, and took shelter in North Caro- lina. The moment he recovered from the fracture of his leg, he engaged in preparing the means of annoying the enemy, then in the flood-tide of prosperity. W^ sixteen men only, he crossed the Santee, and commenced that caring system of warfare which so much annoyed the British army. The following anecdotes of Marion and the officers and soldier? who served with him, are taken from colonel Horry's life of Ma- rion. Marion, with his feeble force, dared to dash up at once to Nel- son's ferry, on the great war path between the British armies at Charleston and Camden. "Now, my gallant friends," said he, at sight of the road, and with a face burning for battle, "now look sharp ! here are the British wagon tracks, with the sand still falling in! and here are the steps of their troops passing and repassing. We shall not long be idle herel" And so it turned out. For scarcely had we reached our hiding place in the swamp, before in came our scouts at half speed, stating that a British guard, with a world of American prisoners, were on their march for Charleston. "How many prisoners do you suppose there were'" said Ma- non. ^ "Near two hundred," replied the scouts. "And what do you imagine was the number of the British guard ?" "Why, sir, we counted about ninety." "Ninety 1" said Marion, with a smile ; "ninety ! Well, that will do. And now, gentlemen, if you will only stand by me, I've a 312 FRANX'IS BIARION. good hope that we thirty will have those ninety by to-morrow's sunrise." We told him to lead on, for that we were resolved to die by his side. Soon as the dusky night came on, we went down to the ferry, and passing for a party of good loyalists, we easily got set over. The enemy, with their prisoners, having just effected the passage of the river as the sun went down, halted at the first tavern, gen- erally called "the Blue House,*' where the officers ordered supper. In front of the building, was a large arbor, wherein the topers were wont to sit, and spend the jocund night away in songs and gleeful draughts of apple brandy grog. In this arbor, flushed with their late success, sat the Britkh guard; and tickler after tickler swilling, roared it away to the tune of "Britannia strike home :" till overcome with fatigue, and the opiate juice, down they sunk, deliciously beastified, to the ground. Just as the cock had winded his last horn for day, we approached the house in perfect concealment, behind a string of fence, within a few yards of it. But in spite of all our address, we could not effect a complete surprisal of them. Their sentinels took the alarm, and firing their pieces, fled into the yard. Swift as light- ning we entered with them, and seizing their muskets, which were all stacked near the gate, we made prisoners of the whole party, without having been obliged to kill more than three of them. Had Washington and his whole army been upon the survivors, they could hardly have roared out louder for quarter, .^fter se- curing their arms, Marion called for their captain; but he was not to be found, high or low, among the living or dead. However, after a hot search, he was found up the chimney ! He begged very hard that we would not let his men know where he had con- cealed himself Nothing could equal the mortification of the Brit- ish, when thdf^came t© see what a handful of militiamen had taken them, and recovered all their prisoners. Marion was at first in high hopes, that the American regulars, whom he had so gallantly rescued, would, to a man, have joined his arms, and fought hard to avenge their late defeat. But equal- ly to his surprise and their aim disgrace, not one of them could FRANCIS MARION. 313 be prevailed on to shoulder a musket! "Where is the use," said they, "of fighting now when all is lost?" This was the general impression. And indeed, except those unconquerable spirits, Marion and Sunipter, with a few others of the same heroic stamp, who kept the field, Carolina was no better than a British province. In our late attack on the enemV) we had but four rounds of pow- der and ball ; and not a single sword that deserved the name. But Marion soon remedied that defect. He bought up all the old saw blades from the mills, and gave them to the smiths, who pre- sently manufactured for us a parcel of substantial broadswords sufficient, as I have often seen, to kill a man at a single blow. From our prisoners in the late action, we got completely armed; a couple of English muskets, witk bayonets and cartouch boxes, to each of us, with which we retreated into Britten's neck. We had not been there above twenty -four hours before the news was brought us by a trusty friend^ that the tories on Pedee, were mustering, in force, under a captain Barfield. This, as we learnt afterwards, was one of the companies that my uncle's old coach- man had been so troubled about. We were quickly on horseback ; and after a brisk ride of forty miles, came upon their encamp- ment, at three o'clock in the morning. Their surprise was so complete, that they did not fire a single shot! Of forty-nine men, who composed their company, we killed and took about thirty. — The arms, ammunition, and horses, of the whole party, fell into our hands, with which we returned to Britton's neck, without the loss of a man. The rumor of these two exploits soon reached the British and their friends the tories, who presently despatched three stout com- panies to attack us. Two of the parties were British ; one of them commanded by major Weymies, of house-burning memory. The third party were altogether tories. We fled before them towards North Carolina. Supposing they had entirely sc(!wted us, they gave over the chase, and returned for their respective stations ; the British to Georgetown, and the tories to Black Mingo. Learn- ing this, from the swift mounted scouts whom he always kept close hanging upon their march, Marion ordered us to face about, and dog them to their encampment, which we attacked with great fury. 314 FRANCIS MARION. Our fire commenced on them at a short distance, and with great effect; but outnumbering us, at least two to one, they stood their ground and fought desperately* But loosing their commander, and being hard pressed, they at length gave way, and fled in the utmost precipitation, leaving upwards of two-thirds of their num- ber, killed and wounded, on the ground. The surprise and des- truction of the tories would have been complete, had it not been for the alarm given by our horses' feet in passing Black Mingo bridge, near which they were encamped. Marion never after- wards suffered us to cross a bridge in the night, until we had first spread' our blankets on it, to prevent noise. This third exploit of Marion rendered his name very dear to the poor whigs, but utterly abominable to the enemy, particularly the tories, who were so terrified at this last handling, that, on their retreat, they would not halt a moment at Georgetown, though twenty miles from the field of battle; but continued their flight, not thinking themselves safe, until they had got Santee river be- tween him and them. Marion was soon after called upon to break up a tory meeting on the Little Pedee. Having put our fire-arms in prime order for an attack, we mount- ed; and giving our friends three cheers, dashed off, just as the broad-faced moon arose; and by daybreak next morning, had gained a very convenient swamp, within ten miles of the grand tory rendezvous. To avoid giving alarm, we struck into the swamp, and there, man and horse, lay snug all day. About e- leven o'clock, Marion sent out a couple of nimble-footed young men, to conceal themselves near the main road, and take good heed to what was going on. In the evening they returned and brought word, that the road had been constantly alive with horse- men, tories they supposed, armed with new guns, and all moving on very gaily towards the place the lad had told us of. Soon as it was darkfwe mounted, and took the track at a sweeping gallop, which, by early supper time, brought us in sight of their fires. — Then leaving our horses under a small guard, we advanced quite near them, in the dark, without being discovered; for so little thought had they of Marion, that they had not placed a single sen- tinel; but were, all hands, gathered about the fire, some cooking, FRANCIS MARION. 3l5 some fiddling and dancing, and some playing cards, as we could hear them every now and ihen brawling out, — ^^Huzza, at him a- gain, damme ! aye, thafs the dandy ! My trick, begad .'" Poor wretches, little did they think how near the fates were grinning around them. Observing that they had three large* fires, Marion divided our little party of sixty men into three companies, each opposite to a fire, then bidding us to aim, with his pistol he gave the signal for a general discharge. In a moment the woods were all in a blaze, as by a flash of lightning, accompanied by a tremendous clap of thunder. Down tumbled the dead; off" bolted the living; loud screamed the wounded ; Avhile far and wide, all over the woods, nothing was to be heard but the running of tories, and the snort- ing of wild bounding horses, snapping the saplings. Such a tragi- comedy was hardly ever seen. On running up to their fires, we found we had killed, twenty-three, and badly wounded as many more ; thirteen we made prisoners; poor fellows Avho had not been grazed by a bullet, but were so frightened that they could not budge a peg. We got eighty-four stand of arms, chiefly English muskets and bayonets, one hundred horses, with new saddles and bridles, all English too, with a good deal of ammunition and bag-^ gage. The consternation of the tories was so great that thev never dreamed of carrying off* any thing. Even their fiddles and fiddle bows, and playing cards, were all left strewed around their fires. One of the gamblers, (it is a serious truth) though shot dead, still held the cards hard griped in his hands. Led by curiosity to inspect this strange sight, a dead gambler, we found that the cards which he held were ace, deuce, and jack. Clubs were trumps. Holding high, low, jack and the game, in his own hand, he seemed to be in a fair way to do well ; but Marion came down upon him with a trump that spoiled his sport, and non-suited him for ever. Soon after this last victory on Pedee, Marion moved down into the neighborhood of Black river, where he instantly got notice that a large body of tories, under the celebrated colonel Tynes, were making great preparation to attack him. This Tyne was a man of valor and address worthy of a better cause. In several contests with the whigs, he had handled them very roughly; and he was become such a terror to the friends of liberty in that part 316 FRANCIS MARION. of the world, that they were greatly alarmed on finding that he was mustering all his forces to attack Marion. We were scarcely encamped, before three expresses arrived from the whig settle- ments on Black river, staging colonel Tynes' movements, and ad- vising to keep a good look out, for that he was a very artful and dangerous fellow. According to their conjectures, colonel Tynes must have had no less than one hundred and fifty men. Our number did not quite reach ninety ; but they were all volunteers, and exceedingly chafed and desperate in their minds, by the barbarous usage of the British and tories. Having, by this day's march of fifty miles, got within twenty miles of the enemy, who supposed that we were still on Pedee, Marion instantly resolved to attack him that night. No sooner was this made known to the troops, than the fatigues of the day appeared to be entirely for- gotten. All hands fell to work, currying, rubbing, and feeding their horses, like young men preparing for a ball or barbacue. Then after a hearty supper and a few hours sleep, we all sprung upon our chargers again, and dashed off about one o'clock, to try our fortune with colonel Tynes. Just before day, we came upon the enemy, whom we found buried in sleep. The roar of our "uns first broke their slumbers ; and by the time the frightened wretches had got upon their legs, man and horse, we were among them, hewing down. Three and thirty fell under our swords ; forty-six were taken; the rest, about sixty, made their escape: colonel Tynes himself, with upwards of one hundred horses, and all the baggage, fell into our hands. A day or two after this victory, the genei-al ordered me to take captain Baxter, lieutenant Postell, and sergeant Macdonald, with thirty privates, and see if I could not gain some advantage over the enemy near the lines of Georgetown, About midnight we crossed Black river; and, pushing on in great silence through the dark woods, arrived at dawn of day near the enemy's sentries, where we lay in ambush close on the road. Just after the usual hour of breakfast, a chair, with a couple of young ladies, 'squired by a brace of British officers elegantly mounted, came along at a sweeping rate from Georgetown. They had not passed us more than fifty steps, before they stopped short. I was confoundedly afraid at first that they had, FRANCIS MARION. 317 somehow or other, smelt a rat ; but it turned out, as we afterwards learned, that this was only a little courting party, going into the country to dine. On getting into the gloomy woods, the girls were taken with a quaking fit for their sweethearts, lest that vile <'swamp fox," as they called Marion, should come across them. Whereupon the halt aforesaid was ordered, and a consultation held; the result of which was, that the girls should go on to their friend's house, and the officers back to town for a party of dra- goons. Accordingly the chair proceeded, and the officers galloped back by us, undisturbed ; for we did not think it Worth while to risk an alarm for the sake of a couple of officers. Presently beginning to feel very hungry, for we had travelled all night and eaten no- thing, we agreed to retire to the house of a neighboring planter, who was known to be a good whig. As we entered the yard, what should we see but the identical chair that had passed us a little before ! and on stepping into the house, behold the very same young ladies! They were richly dressed, and well formed, and would no doubt have appeared handsome, but for the hostile pas- sions which glared from their eyes, and gave their physiognomy a fury-like expression. They asked us, with great pertness, what business we had there. "The gentleman of the house," continued they, "is not at home, and there are no provisions here for you ; and to be sure, you are too much of a gentleman to think of frightening a family of poor helpless women !" Happily I made no reply; for while these young viragoes were catechisinjjf us at this rate, I discovered with much pleasure, that the lady of the house did not utter a word, but walked the room backward and forward with a smiling countenance. Pre- sently she went out; and showing herself at an opposite window, beckoned me to come to her ; when she said in a low voice, "Go back into the house, I'll be there directly. On my stepping in you must demand provisions; I will deny that I have any. You must then get into a violent passion, and swear you will have them, or set the house on fire. I will then throw down the keys, and you can take just what you want; for thank God, there is enough, both for you and your horses." Such was the farce, which the whigs of those days, both ladies and gentlemen, were obliged to play, when they had any of their 28 318 FRANCIS 3IARI0N. tory acquaintance about them. We now played it, and with the desired success ; for the troughs in the yard were all presently filled with corn and fodder for our cavalry ; while for ourselves, the good-natured cook wenches soon served a most welcome repast of fried bacon and eggs, with nice hearth cakes and butter and butter milk. "God be praised," said we ; and down we sat, and made a breakfast, of which even kings, without exercise and keen appetites, can form no idea. Just as we had got completely refreshed, and braced up again, what should we hear but the filing of our sentinels. "Tb horse! to horse my brave felloicsP'' was the cry of one and all. Quick as thought, we were all mounted and formed, Avhen, in came our sentinels, with the British dragoons hard after them, smack up to the fence. "Charge boys, charge! was the word. In a moment the yard was bright with the shining of our swords. The tory girls shrieked out for their sweethearts — "OA the British! the British! murder! murder! Oh!''"' Then off we went, all at once, in solid column. The enemy took to their heels, and we pursued. Over the fence we bounded like stags. Down the hill went the British. Down the hill went we; helter-skelter, man and horse, we flew, roaring through the woods like the sound of distant thun- der. We were all excellently mounted; but there was no horse that could hold the way with Selim. He was the hindmost of all when the chase began ; and I wondered at first what had become of Se- lim; but presently I saw him and Macdonald coming up on my right like a thundergust. Indeed, with his wide spread nostrils, and long extended neck, and glaring eyeballs, he seemed as a fly- ing dragon in chase of his prey. He soon had his master up with the enemy. I saw when Macdonald drew his claymore. The shining of his steel was terrible, as, rising on his stirrups, with high-lifted arm, he waved it tliree times in fiery circles over his head, as if to call up all his strength. Then, with a voice of thun- der, he poured his charging shout, dreadful as the roar of the lion, when, close up to his game, with hideous paws unclenched, he makes his last spring on the fat buffaloes of his chase. Though their mortal enemy, I could not but pity the poor fugi- tives, for I saw that their death was at hand. One of the British FRANCIS MARION. 319 officers fired a pistol at him, but without effect ; before he could try another, he was cut down by Macdonald. After this, at a blow a piece, he sealed the eyes of three dragoons in lasting sleep. — Two fell beneath the steel of the strong-handed Snipes; nor did my sword return bloodless to its scabbard. In short, of the whole party, consisting of twenty-five, not a man escaped, except one officer, who, in the heat of the chase and carnage, cunningly shot off, at right angles, for a swamp, which he luckily gained, and so cleared himself. In consequence of his incessant attacks on the British and tories, Marion was, I believe, as heartily hated by them, as ever Samson was by the Philistines, or George Whitefield by the devil. Nu- merous were the attempts made by their best officers, to surprise him; but such was his own vigilance and the fidelity of his whig friends, that he seldom failed to get the first blow at them, and to take their unwary feet in the same evil net which they had spread for him. His method to anticipate the meditated malice of his enemies, is well worthy of notice. He always had in his service a parcel of active young men, generally selected from the best whig fami- lies, and of tried courage and fidelity. These, mounted on the swiftest horses, he would station in the neighborhood of those pla- ces where the British and tories were embodied in force, as Cam- tlen, Georgetown, &ic. with instructions to leave no stratagem un- tried to find out the intended movements of the enemy. Instantly as this information was obtained, (whether by climbing tall trees that overlooked the garrisons; or from friends acting as market people) they were to mount and push ofl'at full speed to the near- est of a chain of posts established at short and convenient distan- ces, with fleet horses ready saddled and bridled, to bear the intel- ligence with equal speed, the first to the second, the second to the third, and so on. In this expeditious method, as by a telegraph, Marion was presently notified of the designs of the enemy. Of the exceeding importance of such a plan, we had a very striking proof at this time. Exasperated against Marion, for the infinite harm he did the royal cause in Carolina, the British general, in Camden, determined to surprise him at his old place of retreat, Sxow's Island ; and thus destroy or break him up completely. To 820 FRANCIS MABION. this end he despatched a couple of favorite oflficers, colonels Watson and Doyle, with a heavy force, both cavalry and infantry, to seize the lower bridge on Black river, and thereby effectually prevent our escape. But the vigilance and activity of his scouts frustrated this well-concerted plan entirely. Getting early notice of this maceuvre by captain, now general Canty, Marion instantly started his troops, composed chiefly of mounted riflemen and light dragoons, and pushed hard for the same point. By taking a nearer cut, we had the good fortune to gain the bridge before the enemy ; and hav- ing destroyed it as soon we crossed, we concealed ourselves in the dark swamp, anxiously waiting their arrival. In a short time they came in full view on the opposite hill, and there encamped. Pre- sently, unapprehensive of danger, for they saw nothing of us, two of their men came down for water to the river. Unable to resist such a temptation, two of our noted marksmen instantly drew their sights and let fly. The two Englishmen fell ; one of them was killed dead; the other badly wounded and so frightened, that he bellowed like a bull-calf for help. Severalof his gallant comrades ran to his assistance, but they were shot down as fast as they got to him. The next morning colonel Watson sent a flag over to Marion, whom he charged with carrying on war in a manner entirely dif- ferent from all civilized nations. "Why sir," said he to Marion, "you must certainly command a horde of savages, who delight in nothing but murder. I can't cross a swamp or a bridge, but I am waylaid and shot at as if I was a mad dog* Even my sentries are fired at and killed on their posts. Why, my God, sir! this is not the way that christians ought to fight I" To this Marion replied, that "he was sorry that he was obliged to say, that from what he had known of them, the British officers were the last men upon earth, who had any right to preach about honor and humanity. That for men to come three thousand miles to plunder and hang an innocent people, and then to tell that peo- ple how they ought tofiglit, betrayed an ignorance and impudence which he fain would hope had no parallel in the history of man. That for his part, he always believed, and still did believe that he fshould be doing God and his country good service to surprise and FRANCIS MAKIOX. 321 kill such men, while they continued this diabolical warfare, as he would the wolves and panthers of the forest." Thus ended the correspondence for that time. While things remained in this state between the hostile parties, Macdonald, as usual, was employing himself in a close and bold reconnoitre of the enemy's camp. Having found out the situation of their sentries, and the times of relieving them, he climbed up into a^bushy tree, and thence, with a musket loaded with pistol bul- lets, cracked away at their guard as they passed by; of whom he killed one man, and badly wounded the lieutenant, whose name was Torquano; then sliding down the tree, he mounted his swift- footed Selim, and made his escape. The next morning colonel Watson sent another flag to Marion, requesting that he would grant a passport to his lieutenant Tor- quano, who was badly wounded, and wished to be carried to. Charleston. On receiving the flag, which happened while I was by him, Marion turned to me, and with a smile, said, "Well this note of colonel Watson^ looks a little as if he were coming to his senses. But who is lieutenant Tbrquano?'* I replied that he was a young Englishman, who had been quar- tered in Charleston, at the house of that good whig lady, Mrs. Brainford and her daughters, whom he had treated very politely, and often protected fz-om insults. '•Well," said he, "if that be lieutenant Torquano, he must be a very clever fellow ; and shall certainly have a passport to Charles- ton, or even to Paradise, if I had the keys of St. Peter." On re-passing Black river in haste, Macdonald had left his clothes behind him at a poor woman's house, where the enemy seized them. By the return of the flag just mentioned, he sent word to colonel Watson, that if he did not immediately send back his clothes, he would kill eight of his men to pay for them. Several of Watson's officers who were present when the mes- sage was delivered, advised him by all means to return his clothes, for that they knew him to be a most desperate fellow, one who would stop at nothing he set his head upon ; witness his late daring act of climbing like a cougar into a tree, to kill his passing enemies. Watson sent him back his wallet of clothes. From Georgetown Marion proceeded with colonel Lee to attack 28* 322 FRANCIS MARION. tlie British post on Scott's lake, generally called fort Watson. The situation of this fort was romantic and beautiful in the extreme. — Overlooking the glassy level ofthe lake, it stood on a mighty bar- row or tomb like a mount, formed of the bones of Indian nations, there heaped up from time immemorial, and covered with earth and herbage. — Finding that the fort mounted no artillery, Marion re- solved to make his approaches in a way that should give his rifle- men a fair chance against their musqueteers. For this purpose, large quantities of pine logs were cut; and as soon as dark came on, were carried in perfect silence, within point blank shot of the fort, and run up in the shape of large pens or chimney-stacks, con- siderably higher than the enemy's parapets. Great, no doubt, was the consternation of the garrison next morning, to see themselves thus suddenly overlooked by this strange kind of steeple, pouring down upon them from its blazing top, incessant showers of rifle bullets. Nor were they idle the while, but returned the blaze with equal fury, presenting to us, who lay at a distance, a very inte- resting scene — as of two volcanoes that Tad suddenly broke out into fiery strife, singeing the neighboring pines. Though their enemy, yet I could not bufpity the British, when I saw the great disadvantage under which they fought. For our riflemen, lying above them and firing through loop-holes, were seldom hurt, while the British, obliged, every time they fired, to show their heads, were frequently killed. — Increasing still the awkwardness of their situation, their well, which was on the out- side of the fort, was so entirely in the reach of our rifles, that they could not get a pail of water for coffee or grog, without the utmost hazard. After a gallant resistance, they surrendered themselves prisoners of war; one hundred and twenty in number. This fort had been very judiciously fixed in a country exceed- ingly fertile, and on a lake abounding with fine fish, and from its contiguity to the river Santee, forming an admirable deposit for their upland posts. From their military storehouse, which was on the outside of the fort, the British attempted, at the commence- ment of our attack, to get out their goods, and to roll them up into the fort. But in this exposed state, their men were picked off" so fast by our sharp-shooters, that they were soon obliged to quit such hot work. FRANCIS MARIOX. 323 The sight of their casks and bales, rolled out and shining so richly on the side of the hill, set the fingers of our ragged militia- men on such an itch, that there was no resisting it. And presently a squad of three of them were seen pushing out, without leave or license, to attack a large hogshead, that lay very invitingly on the outside of the rest. The enemy seeing the approach of our buc- caneers, reserved their fire until they had got pretty near up to the intended prize ; then all at once cut loose upon them with a thun- dering clap, which killed one, crippled a second, and so frightened the third, that he forgot the cask, and turning tail, thought of noth. ing but to save his bacon ! which he did by such extraordinary run- ning, and jumping, as threw us all into a most immoderate laugh. Presently up comes my black waiter, Billy, with a broad grin on his face, and says, "Why, master, them militia-men there, sir, are tarnal fools: they do not know nothing at all about stealing. — But if you will please, sir, to let me try my hand, I can fetch off that hogshead there, mighty easy, sir." 'No, no, Billy !' said I, shaking my head, "that will never do, my lad. I value you much too highly, Billy, to let you be knocked on the head, so foolishly as all that comes to." "Lord bless you, sir," replied he, smiling, "there is no more dan- ger in it, than in eating when a body is hungry. And if you will only please let me try my hand, sir, if you see any danger, why, then, piaster, you may call me back, you know, sir." Upon this he started. Fortunately for him, our riflemen, see- ing what he was after, made a noble diversion in his favor, by throwing a galling fire into the fort. On getting within thirty yards of the hogshead, he fell flat on his face, and dragged himself along on his belly until he reached it. Then seizing the hogs- head with a hand on each chime he worked it backwards and backwards, like an alligator pulling a dog into the river, until he had fairly rolled his prize to the brink of the hill, where, giving it a suddehjerk by way of a start, and at the same time jumping up, he ran with all his might down the precipice, the hogshead hard after him, and was soon out of all danger. Numbers of shot were fired at him, but not one touched him, which gave great joy to our encampment, who were all anxious spectators of the transaction, and seemed to take a deep interest in Billy's success. And no 324 FRANCIS MARION. wonder; for he was a most noble hearted fellow, and exceedingly useful in camp. Officers or soldiers, cadets or colonels, no matter who they were, that asked Billy a favor, they were sure to have it done for themj and with such a cheerful ah; as did them more good than the service itself So that I much question, whether there was a man in all our camp, whose good luck would have given more general satisfaction than his. On opening Bill's hogshead, which indeed was no hogshead, buti'ather a puncheon, as big as two hogsheads, there was a pro- digious stare among our men at the sight of so much wealth. 100 strong white shirts for soldiers, 50 fine white shirts for officers, 50 camp blankets, 100 black stocks, 100 knapsacks, and 6 dragoon's cloaks, were the valuable contents of Billy's cask. The native genius of the poor fellow instantly broke out in a stream of gener- ous actions, which never stopped, until the hogshead was com- pletely emptied. First of all, he began with me, to whom he presented half a dozen of the fine shirts and black stocks, with a dragoon's cloak. Then to the general he made a present, also to the officers of his family. To his fellow servants, who messed with him, he gave two shirts a-piece. But what pleased me most in Billy's donations, was his generosity to the two men who had miscarried in their attempt on the same cask. Seeing that they were much mortified at their own failure, and a little perhaps at his success, he desired them to come and help themselves to what they liked. Hearing him then express a wish that he knew what to do with the balance, I told him that many of our dragoons were poor men, and much in want of shirts. '■^Aye, sure enough,'''' said he, and immediately handed them out a shirt a-piece, until all were gone. For this generosity of Billyh general Marion dubbed him"cap- tain Billy," a name which he went by ever afterwards. Nothing was ever more seasonable than this supply, purchased by Billy's valor; for before that, we were all as ragged as young rooks. — There was not an officer in camp, except colonel Lee and his staff", who was so rich as to own two shirts. I am very sure that Marion's aids had but one a-piece. • And yet so independent of weahh is cheerfulness, that I have often seen our officers in their FRANCIS MARION. 325 naked buffs, near a branch, singing and dancing around their shirts, which they had just washed, and hung on the bushes to dry. From the reduction of fort Watson, we set out immediately in high spirits, for the still nobler attack on fort Motte. For the sake of fine air and water, and handsome accommodations, the British had erected this fort in the yard of Mrs. Motte's elegant new house, which was nearly enclosed in their works. But alas! so little do poor mortals know what they are about! the fine house, which they had rudely taken from poor Mrs. Motte, proved to the British, what his gay shirt did to Hercules. It wrought their downfall. For, after a fierce contest, in which many valuable lives were lost on both sides, through the sharpshooters of the yaugers, and the still closer cutting of our riflemen, it struck Ma- rion that he could quickly drive the enemy out of the fort, by setting the house on fire. But poor Mrs. Motte! a lone widow, whose plantation had been so long ravaged by the war, herself turned into a log cabin, her negroes dispersed, and her stock, grain, &:-c. nearly all ruined ! must she now lose her elegant build- ings too? Such scruples were honorable to the general ; but they showed his total unacquaintodness Avith the excellent widow. — For at the first glimpse of the proposition, she exclaimed, "O ! burn it! burn it, general Marion! God forbid I should bestow a single thought on my little concerns, when the independence of my coun- try is at stake. — No, sir, if it were a palace it should go." She then stepped to her closet and brought out a curious bow with a quiver of arrows, which a poor African boy, purchased from on board a Guineaman, had formerly presented her, and said, "Here, general, here is what will serve jour purpose to a hair.'" The arrows, pointed with iron, and charged with lighted combustibles, were shot on top of the house, to which they stuck, and quickly communicated the flames. The British, two hundred in number, besides a good many tories, instantly hung out a white flag in sign of submission. The excellent Mrs. Motte was present when her fine new house, supposed to be worth six thousand dollars, took fire ; and without a sigh, beheld the red spiry billows prevailing over all its gran- deur. The reader may form some idea of general Marion, from the 326 FRANCIS MAKION. following anecdote, which was related to me by the honorable Benjamin Hugar, Esq. During the furious contests in South Carolina, between the British and the Americans, it was very common for men of pro- perty to play jack of both sides, for the sake of saving their ne- groes and cattle. — Among these, a pretty numerous crew, was a wealthy old blade, who had the advantage of one of those very accommodating faces, that could shine with equal lustre on his victorious visitants, whether Britons or buckskins. Marion soon found him out; and as soon gave him a broad hint how heartily he despised such trimming; for at a great public meeting where the old gentleman, with a smirking face, came up and presented his hand, Marion turned from him without deigning to receive it. Every body was surprised at this conduct of the general, and some spoke of it in terms of high displeasure. However, it was not long before they caught the old Aveathercock at one of his tricks, and, soon as the confiscation act was passed, had him down on the blacklist, fondly hoping, nodoubt^ to divide a large spoil. Mari- on, who was then a member of the legislature, arose to speak. — The aged culprit, who also was present, turned pale and trembled at the sightof Marion, giving up all for lost. — But how great, how agreeable was his surprise, when, instead of hearing the general thundering against him for judgment, he heard him imploring for mercy! His accusers were, if possible, still more astonished. — Having counted on general Marion as his firmest foe, they were utterly mortified to find him his fastest friend, and, venting their passion with great freedom, taxed him with inconsistency and fickleness that but illy suited with general Marion's character. "It is scarcely eighteen months, sir," said they, "since you treated this old rascal with the most pointed and public contempt on account of the very crime for which we wish to punish him. And here, now, instead of taking part against him, you have de- clared in his favor, and have become his warmest advocate with a legislature." "True, gentlemen," replied Marion, "but you should remember that it was war then; and therefore my duty to make a difference between the real and pretended friends of my country. But it is 2)eace now, and we ought to remember the virtues of men, parti- FRANCIS MARION. 327 cularly of the old and timid, rather than their follies. And we ought to remember too, that God has given us the victory, for which we owe him eternal gratitude. But cruelty to man is not the way to show our gratitude to heaven." Of the same complexion was his behaviour in a large party at governor Matthew's table, just after the passage of the famous act to confiscate the estates of the tories. '■'■Come, general, give us a toast,^'' said the governor. The glasses were all filled, and the eyes of the company fixed upon the general, who, waving hi& bumper in the air, thus nobly called out — '^ Well, gentlemen, here's damnation to the confiscation act^ The following anecdote of Marion I have heard from a thousand lips, and every time with that joy on the countenance, which evinced the deep interest which the heart takes in talking of things that are honorable to our countrymen. While Marion was a member of the legislature, a petition was presented to the house for an act of amnesty of all those arbitrary measures which the American officers had been obliged to adopt during the war, in order to get horses, provisions, dtc. for the ar- my. The petition was signed by the names of all the favorite officers of the state, and among the rest, by that of our hero. — Some of his friends, it seemed, had done it for him, on the suppo- sition that he needed such an act as well as the rest. But Marion, who had listened very attentively to the reading of the petition, on hearing his name mentioned as one of the subscribers, instantly arose, and insisted that his name should be struck off from that paper. He said "he had no manner of objection to the petition ; on the contrary, he most heartily approved of it, and meant to vote for it; for well did he know, he said, that during the war, we liad among us a world of ignoramuses, who, for lack of knowing their danger, did not care a fig how the war went, but were sauntering about in the woods, popping at the squirrels, when they ought to liave been in the field fighting the British: that such gentlemen, since they did not choose to do any thing for their country them- selves, might well afford to let their cattle do something; and as they had not shed any of their blood for the public service, they might certainly spare a little corn to it : at any rate he had no no- ■tion, he said; of turning over to the mercy of these poltroons, some 328 FRANCIS MARION. of the choicest spirits of the nation, to be prosecuted and torn to pieces by them ; but that, nevertheless, he did not like to have his name to the petition, for thank God, he had no favors to ask of them. And if, during the war for his country, he had done any of them harm, there was he, and yonder his property, and let thevi come forxcard, if they dare, and demand satisfaction?'' Colonel Peter Horry, in his life of general Marion, gives the following interesting incident : "-About this time we received a flag from the enemy in Georgetown, South Carolina, the object of which was to make some arrangements about the exchange of prisoners. The flag, after the usual ceremony of blindfolding, was conducted into Marion's encampment. Having heard great talk about general Marion, his fancy had naturally enough sketched out for him some stout figure of a warrior, such as O'Hara, or Coruwallis himself, of martial aspect and flaming regimentals. — But what was his surprise when, led into Marion's presence, and the bandage taken from his eyes, he beheld in our hero a swarthy, smoke-dried little man, with scare ely enough of thread-bare home- spun to cover his nakedness; and instead of tall ranks of gay- dressed soldiers, a handful of sun-burnt, yellow-legged militia- men ; some roasting potatoes, and some asleep, with their black flre-locks and powder-horns lying by them on the logs. Having recovered a little from his surprise, he presented his letter to gen- eral Marion, who perused it, and soon settled every thing to his satisfaction. The officer took up his hat to retire. "Oh no!" said Marion; "it is now about our time of dining, and I hope, sir, you will give us the pleasure of your company to dinner. At the mention of the word dinner, the British officer looked around him, but to his great mortification could see no sign of a pot, pan, or Dutch oven, or any other cooking utensil that could raise the spirits of a hungry man. "Well, Tom," said the general to one of his men, "come, give us our dinner." The dinner to which he alluded, was no other than a heap of sweet potatoes that were very snugly roasting under the embers, and which Tom with his pine stick poker soon liberated from their ashy confinement, pinching them ev«ry now and then with his FRANCIS MARION, 329 fingers, especially the big ones, to see whether they were well done or not. Then, having cleansed them of the ashes, partly by blowing them with his breath, and partly by brushing them with the sleeve of his old cotton shirt, he piled some of the best on a large piece of bark, and placed them between the British officer and Marion, on the trunk of the fallen pine on which they sat. "I fear, sir," said the general, "our dinner will not prove so palateable to you as I could wish; but it is the best we have." Tlie officer, who was a well-bred man, took up one of the pota- toes, and affected to feed as if he had found a great dainty; but it was very plain that he ate more from good manners than good appetite. Presently he broke out into a hearty laugh. Marion looked surprised. "I beg pardon, general," said he ; "but one cannot, you know, always command one's conceits. I was think- ing how drolly some of my brother officers would look, if our gov- ernment were to give them such a bill of fare as this." "I suppose," said Marion, "it is not equal to their style of dining." "No, indeed," quoth the officer; "and this, I imagine, is one of your accidental lent dinners : a sort of ban-yan. In general, no doubt, you live a great deal better." "Rather worse," replied the general ; "for often we don't get enough of this." "Heavens!" rejoined the officer; "but probably what you lose in meat, you make up in malt : though stinted in provisions, you draw noble pay." "Not a cent, sir," said Marion; "not a cent." "Heavens and earth! then you must be in a bad box. I don't see, general, how you can stand it." "Why, sir," replied Marion, with a smile of self-approbation, "these things depend on feeling." The Englishman said, "he did not believe it would be an easy matter to reconcile his feelings to a soldier's life on general IMa- rion's terms; all fighting, no pay, and no provisions but potatoes." "Why, sir," answered the general, "the heart is all ; and when that is once interested, a man can do any thing. Many a youth would think hard to indent himself a slave for fourteen years. But let him be over head and ears in love, and with such a beau- teous sweetheart as Rachel, and he will think no more of fourteen 29 330 rsAXCis marion years' servitude than young Jacob did. Well, now this is exactly iny case. I am in love; and my sweetheart is Liberty. Be that heavenly nymph my companion, and these woods shall have charms beyond London and Paris in slavery. To have no proud monarch driving over me with his gilt coaches; nor his host of excisemen and tax-gatherers insulting and robbing; but to be my own master, ray own prince and sovereign; gloriously preserving my natural dignity, and pursuing my true happiness; planting my vineyards, and eating my luscious fruits; sowing my fields , and reaping the golden gi-ain; and seeing millions around me, equally free and happy as myself — this, sir, is what I long for." The officer replied, that both as a man and a Briton, he must certainly subscribe to this as a happy state of things. "Happy," quoth Marion ; "yes happy indeed : and I would ra- ther fight for such blessings for my country, and feed on roots^ than keep aloof, though wallowing in all the luxuries of Solomon. For now, sir, I walk the soil that gave me birth, and exult in the thought that I am not unworthy of it. I look upon these venerable trees around me, and feel that I do not dishonor them. I think of my own sacred rights, and rejoice that I have not basely de- serted them. And when I look forward to the long, long ages of posterity, I glory in the thought that I am fighting their battles. — The children of distant generations may never hear my name; but still it gladdens my heart, to think that I am contending for their freedom, with all its countless blessings." The Englishman hung his honest head, and looked as if he had seen the upbraiding ghosts of his illustrious countrymen, Sydney and Hampden. On his return to Georgetown, he was asked by colonel Watson why he looked so serious. "I have cause, sir,'' said he, "to look serious." "What! has general Marion refused to treat?" ^'No, sir," "Well, then, has old Washington defeated Sir Henry Clinton, and broke up our army ?" "No, sir, not that neither; but worse." "Ah! what can be worse?" "Why, sir, I have seen an American general and his officers, without pay, and almost without clothes, living on roots, and drinking water ; and all for Liberty] What chance have we against such men?" It is said colonel Watson was not much obliged to him for this jspeech. But the young officer was so struck with Marion's sen- FRA>'CIS BURIOX. 331 timents, that he never rested until he threw up his commission, and retired from the service. Genei-al Marion, whose stature was diminutive, and his person uncommonly light, rode, when in service, one of the fleetest and most powerful chargers the south could produce. When in fair pursuit, nothing could escape him, and when retreating, nothing could overtake him. Being once nearly surrounded by a party of British dragoons, he was compelled to pass into a cornfield by leaping the fence. This field, marked with a considerable descent of surface, had been in part a marsh. IMarion entered it at the upper side. The dragoons in chase leaped the fence also, and were but a short distance behind him. So completely was he now in their power, that his only mode of escape was to pass over the fence on the lower side. But here lay a difficulty which to all but himself appeared insurmountable. To drain the ground of its superfluous waters, a trench had been cut around this part of the field, four feet Avide, and of the same depth. Of the mud and clay removed in cutting it, a bank had been formed on its inner side, and on the top of this was erected the fence. The elevation of the whole amounted to more than seven ket perpendicular height ; a ditch four feet in width, running parallel with it on the outside, and a foot or more of space infeven- ing between the fence and the ditch. The dragoons, acquainted with the nature and extent of this obstacle, and considering it impossible for their enemy to pass it, pressed towards him with loud shouts of exultation and insult, and summoned him to surrender or perish by the sword. Regard- less of their rudeness and empty clamor, and inflexibly deter- mined not to become their prisoner, Marion spurred his horse to the charge. The noble animal, as if conscious that his master's life was in danger, and that on his exertion depended his safety, approached the baiTier in his finest style, and with a bound that was almost supernatural, cleared the fence and the ditch, and re- covered himself without injury on the opposite side. Marion now facing his pursuers, who had halted at the fence, unable to pass it, discharged his pistols at them without effect, and then wheeling his horse, and bidding them "good morning," wilh 332 WILLIAM JASPER. an air of triumph, dashed into an adjoining thicket and disap- peared in an instant. ■« General Marion was a native of South Carolina; and the imme- diate theatre of his exploits was a large section of the maritime district of that state around Georgetown. The peculiar hardihood of his constitution, and its being accommodated to a warm climate and a low marshy country, qualified him to endure hardships, and submit to exposures, which, in that sickly region, few other men would have been competent to sustain. He continued his undi- vided efforts until the close of the war, and lived to see the United States enrolled among the free and independent nations of the earth. ANECDOTE OF SERGEANT JASPER. From Horry's Life "of Marion. In the spring of 1779, Marion and myself were sent with our commands, to Purysburgh, to reinforce general Lincoln, who was there on his way to attack the British in Savannah, which a few months before had fallen into their hands. As the count D'Es- taing, who was expected to co-operate in this affair, had not yet arrived, general Lincoln thought it advisable to entrench and wait for him. While we were lying at Purysburg, a 4ouple of young men of our regiment achieved an act of generosity and courage, which, in former days, would have laid the ground-work of a heroic ro- mance. One of the actors in this extraordinary play was the brave sergeant Jasper, whose name will forever be dear to the friends of American liberty. Jasper had a brother who had joined the British, and held the rank of sergeant in their garrison at Ebenezer. Never man was truer to his country than Jasper, yet was his heart so warm that he loved his brother, though a tory, and actually went over to see him. His brother was exceedingly alarmed at sight of him, lest he should be seized and hung up at once as a spy, for his name was well known to many of the British officers. But Jasper beg- ged him not to give himself much trouble on that head, for, said he, "I am no longer an American soldier." "Well, thank God for that, William," replied his brother, giving .\VtlHSAM JASPER. 333 him a hearty shake by the hand — "and noio only sa^ the word my boy, and here is a commission for you, icith regimentals and gold to hoot, to fight for his majesty.'''' Jasper shook his head and observed, that though there was but little encouragement to fight for his country, yet he could not find in his heart to fight against her. And there the conversation ended. After staying vi'ith his brother some two or three days, inspect- ing and hearing all that he could, he took his leave, and by around about, returned to camp, and told general Lincoln all that he had seen. Having wasted several weeks longer of tiresome idleness, and no news of the French fleet, Jasper took it into his head to make another trip to Ebenezer. On this occasion he did not, as before, go alone, but took with him his particular friend, sergeant Newton, son of an old baptist preacher, and a young fellow, for strength and courage, just about a good match for Jasper himself. He was received as usual, with great cordiality by his brother, to whom he introduced his friend Newton, and spent several days in the British fort, without giving the least alarm. On the morn- ing of the third day his brother had some bad neivs to tell him. "Aye! ichat is it?''"' he asked, "what is it?''"' "Why," replied his brother, "here are some ten or a dozen A- merican prisoners, brought in this morning, as deserters from Sa- vannah, whither they are to be sent immediately. And from what I can learn, it will be apt to go hard with them, for it seems they have all taken the king's bounty." "Lefssee ''em,'''* said Jasper, "Let''ssee''em.''' So his brother took him and Newton to see them. And indeed it was a mournful sight to behold them, where they sat, poor fel- lows ! all hand-cuffed, on the ground. But all pity of them was forgot, soon as the eye was turned to a far more doleful sight hard by, which was a young woman, wife of one of the prisoners, with her child, a sweet little boy of about five years old. The name of this lady was Jones. Her humble garb showed her to be poor, but her deep distress, and sympathy with her unfortunate husband, showed that she was rich in that pure conjugal love, that is more precious than all gold. 29* 334 WILLIAM JASPER. She generally sat on the ground opposite to her husband, with lier little boy leaning on her lap, and her coal black hair spread- ing in long neglected tresses on her neck and bosom. And thus in silence she sat, a statue of grief, sometimes with her eyes hard fixed upon the earth, like one lost in thought, sighing and groaning the while as if her heart would burst — then starting, as from a reverie, she would dart her eager eyes, red with weeping, on her husband's face, and there would gaze, with looks so piercing sad, as though she saw him struggling in the halter, herself a widow, and her son an orphan. Straight her frame would begin to shake with the rising agony, and her face to change and swell; then with eyes swimming in tears, she would look around upon us all, for pity and for help, with cries sufficient to melt the heart of a demon. While the child seeing his father's hands fast bound, and his mother weeping, added to the distressing scene, by his artless cries and tears. The brave are always tender-hearted. It was so with Jasper and Newton, two of the most undaunted spirits that ever lived.-— They walked out in the neighboring wood. The tear was in the eye of both. Jasper first broke silence. "Newton," said he, "my days have been but few ; buti believe their course is nearly done." "Why so, Jasper?" "Why, I feel," said he, "that I must rescue these poor prisoners, or die with them ; otherwise that woman and her child will haunt me to my grave." "Why, that is exactly what I feel too," replied Newton — "and here is my hand and heart to stand by you, my brave friend, to the last drop. Thank God, a man can die but once, and there is not so much in this life that a man need be afraid to leave it, es- pecially when he is in the way of his duty." The two friends then embraced with great cordiality, while each read in the other's countenance, that immortal fire which beams from the eyes of the brave, when resolved to die or conquer in some glorious cause. Immediately after breakfast, the prisoners were sent on for Sa- vannah, under a guard of a sergeant and corporal with eight men. They had not been gone long, before Jasper, accompanied by his friend Newton, took leave of his brother, and set out on some er- WILLIAM JASPER. 33 5 rand to the upper country. They had scarcely, however, got out of sight of Ebenezer, before they struck into the piny woods, and pushed hard after the prisoners and their guard, whom they closely dogged for several miles, anxiously watching an opportu- nity to make a blow. But alas! all hopes of that sort seemed ut- terly extravagant; for what could give two men a chance to con- tend against ten, especially when there was found no weapon in the hand of the two, while the ten, each man was armed with his loaded musket and bayonet. But unable to give up their country- men, our heroes still followed on. About two miles fi-om Savannah there is a famous spring, gen- erally called the Spa, well known to travellers, who often turn in to quench their thirst. "Perhaps," said Jasper, "the guard may stop there." Then hastening on by a near cut through the woods, they gained the Spa as their last hope, and there concealed them- selves among the bushes that grew abundantly round the spring. Presently the mournful procession came in sight, headed by the sergeant, who, on coming opposite to the spring, ordered a halt, Hope sprung up afresh in our heroes' bosoms, strongly throbbing too, no doubt, with great alarms, for it was a fearful odds. The corporal, with his guard of four men, conducted the prisoners to the spring, while the sergeant with the other four, having grounded their arms near the road, brought up the rear. The prisoners, wearied with their long walk, were permitted to rest themselves on the earth. Poor Mrs. Jones, as usual, took her seat opposite to her husband^ and her little boy, overcome with fatigue, fell asleep in her lap. Two of the corporal's men were ordered to keep guard, and the other two to give the prisoners drink out of thejr canteens . These last approached the spring where our heroes lay concealed, and resting their muskets against a pine tree, dipped up water, and having drank themselves, turned away, with replenished can- teens, to give the prisoners drink also. "Now, Newton, is our time," said Jasper. Then bursting, like two lions, from their concealment, they snatched up the two muskets that were rested against the pine, and in an instant shot down the two soldiers that kept guard. And now the question was, who should first get the two loaded muskets that had just fallen from the hands of the slain. For by this time the sergeant and corporal, a couple of brave En- 336 WILLIAM JASPER. glishmen, recovering from their momentary panic, had sprung and seized upon the muskets; but before they could use them, the strong swift-handed Americans, with clubbed guns, levelled each at the head of his brave antagonist, the final blow. The tender bones of the skull gave way beneath the furious strokes, and with wide scattered blood and brains down they sunk, pale and quiver- ing, to the earth, without a groan. Then snatching up the guns which had thus, a second time, fallen from the hands of the slain, they flew between the surviving enemy, and ordered them to surrender, which they instantly did. Having called the prisoners to them, they quickly, with the point of their bayonets, broke off their hand-cufis, and gave each of them a musket. At the commencement of the fray, poor Mrs. Jones, half fright- ened to death, had fallen to the ground in a swoon, with her little son piteously screaming over her. But, when she came to her- self, and saw her husband and friends around her, all freed from their fetters and well armed, she looked and behaved like one frantic with joy. ' She sprung to her husband's bosom, and with her arms around his neck sobbed out, "Oh bless God ! bless God ! my husband is safe ; my husband is not hung yet :" then snatching up her child, and straining him to her soul, as if she would have pressed him to death, she cried out, "Oh praise ! praise ! praise God forever! my son has a father yet!" Then wildly darting round her eyes in quest of her deliverers, she exclaimed, "where' where are those blessed angels that God sent to save my hus- band?" Directing her eyes to Jasper and Newton, where they stood like two youthful Sampsons, she ran and fell on her knees before them, and seizing their hands, kissed and pressed them to her bosom, crying out vehemently, "Dear angels ! dear angels ! God bless you ! God Almighty bless you for ever !" Then instantly, for fear of being overtaken by the enemy, our heroes snatched the arms and regimentals of the slain, and with their friends and captive foes, recrossed the Savannah, and in safety rejoined our army at Purysburgh, to the inexpressible astonishment and joy of us all. PART II. BIOGRAPHY OF FOREIGN OFFICERS IN THE AMER- ICAN SERVICE. GILBERT MOTIER LAFAYETTE, Major-General in the American Continental Army. The family of General Lafayette, has long been distinguished in the history of France. As early as 1422, the Marshal de La- fayette, defeated and killed the Duke of Clarence at Beauge, and thus saved his country from falling entirely into the power of Hen- ry Fifth, of England. His father fell in the battle of Munden, and therefore survived the birth of his son only two years. These, with many more memorials of his family, scattered through the different portions of French history for nearly five centuries, arc titles to distinction, which it is particularly pleasant to recollect, when they fall, as they now do, on one so singularly fitted to re- ceive and increase them. General Lafayette himself was born in Auvergne, in the south of France, on the 6th of September, 1757. When quite young, he was sent to the College of Du Plessis at Paris, where he receiv- ed that classical education, of which, when recently at Cambridge, he twice gave remarkable proof in uncommonly happy quotations from Cicero, suited to circumstances that could not have been fore- seen. Somewhat later, he was sent to Versailles, where the court constantly resided; and there his education was still further con- tinued, and he was made, in common with most of the young noble- men, an officer in the army. When only between sixteen and seventeen, he was married to the daughter of the Duke d'Ayen, son of the Duke de Noailles, and. grand son to the great and good Chancellor d'Aguesseau; and thus his condition in life seemed to be assured to him among the most splendid and powerful in the em- pire. His fortune which had been accumulating during along minor- ity, was vast : his rank was with the first in Europe ; his connexions brought him the support of the chief persons in France ; and his individual character, the warm, open, and sincere manners, which have distinguished him ever since, and given him such singular 338 LAFAYETTE control over the minds of men, made him powerful in the confidence of society wherever he Avent. It was at this period, however, that his thoughts and feelings were first turned towards these thirteen colonies, then in the dark- est and most doubtful passage of their struggle for independence. He made himself acquainted with our agents at Paris, and learned from them the state of our affairs. Nothing could be less tempt- ing to hirn, whether he sought military reputation or military in- struction, for our army at that moment retreating through New- Jersey, and leaving its traces in blood from the naked and torn feet of the soldiery as it hastened onward, was in a state too hum- ble to ofler either. Our credit, too, in Europe, was entirely gone, so that the commissioners, as they were called, without having any commission, to whom Lafayette still persisted in offering his ser- vices, were obliged at last, to acknowledge that they could not even give him decent means for his conveyance. "Then," said he, "I shall purchase and fit out a vessel for myself." He did so. The vessel was prepared at Bordeaux, and sent round to one of the nearest ports in Spain, that it might be beyond the reach of the French government. In order more effectually to conceal his purposes, he made, just before his embarkation, a visit of a few weeks in England, the only time he was ever there, and was much sought in English society. On his return to France, he did not stop at all in the capital, even to see his own family, but hastened with all speed and secrecy, to make good his escape from the coun- try. It was not until he was thus on his way to embark, that this romantic undertaking began to be known. The effect produced in the capital and at the court by its publi- cation, was greater than we should now, perhaps, imagine. Lord Stormont, the English ambassador, required the French ministry to despatch an order for his ari'est, not only to Bordeaux, but to the French commanders on the West India station ; a requisition with which the ministry readily complied, for they were at that time, anxious to preserve a good understanding with England, and were seriously angry with a young man, who had thus put in jeop- ardy the relations of the two countries. In fact, at Passage on the very borders of France and Spain, a lettre de cachet overtook him, and he was arrested and carried back to Bordeaux. There, of LAFAYETTE. 339 course, his enterprise was near being finally stopped ; but watch- ing his opportunity, and assisted by one or two friends, he disguised himself as a courier, with his face blacked and false hair, and rode on, ordering post-horses, for a carriage which he had caused to fol- low him at a suitable distance, for this very purpose, and thus fairly passed the frontiers of the two kingdoms, only three or four hours before his pursuers reached them. He soon arrived at his port, where his vessel was waiting for him. His family, however, still followed him with solicitations to return, which he never re- ceived. Immediately on arriving a second time at Passage, the wind be- mg fair, he embarked. The usual course for French vessels at- tempting to trade with our colonies at that period, was to sail for the West Indies, and then coming up along our coast, enter where tliey could. But this course would have exposed Lafayette to the naval commanders of his own nation, and he had almost as much reason to dread them, as to dread British cruisers. When, there- fore, they were outside of the Canary Islands, Lafayette required his captain to lay their course directly for the United States. The captain refused, alleging, that if they should be taken by a British force and carried into Halifax, the French government would never reclaim them, and they could hope for nothing but a slow death in a dungeon or a prison-ship. This was true, but Lafayette knew it before he made the requisition. He therefore, insisted, until the captain refused in the most positive manner. Lafayette then told him that the ship was his own private property, that he had made his own arrangements concerning it, and that if he, the captain, would not sail directly for the United States, he should be put in irons, and his command given to the next officer. The captain of course, submitted, and Lafayette gave him a bond for forty thou- sand francs, in case of any accident. They, therefore, now made sail directly for the southern portion of the United States, and ar- rived unmolested at Charleston, South Carolina, on the 25th of April, 1777. The sensation produced by his appearance in this country, was, of course, much greater than that produced in Europe by his de- parture. It still stands forth, as one of the most prominent and im- portant circumstances in our revolutionary contest; and, as has 340 LAFAYETTE. often been said by one who bore no small part in its trials and suc- cess, none but those who were then alive, can believe what an im- pulse it gave to the hopes of a population almost disheartened by a long series of disasters. And well it might; for it taught us that in the first rank of the first nobility in Europe, men could still be found, who not only took an interest in our struggle, but were willing to share our sufferings ; that our obscure and almost despe- rate contest for freedom, in a remote quarter of the world, could yet find supporters among those who were the most natural and powerful allies of a splendid despotism; that we were the objects of regard and interest throughout the world, which would add to oar own resources sufficient strength to carry us safely through to final success. Immediately after his arrival, Lafayette received the offer of a command in our army, but declined it. Indeed, during the whole of his service with us, he seemed desirous to show, by his conduct, that he had come only to render disinterested assistance to our cause. He began, therefore, by clothing and equipping a body of men at Charleston at his own expense, and then entered, as a vol- unteer without pay, into our service. He lived in the family of the commander-in-chief, and won his full affection and confidence. He was appointed a major-general in our service, by a vote of con- gress, on the 31st of July, 1777, and in September of the same year, was wounded at Brandy wine. He was employed in 1778, in many parts of the country, as a major-general, and as the head of a separate division; and after having received the thanks of congress for his important services, embarked at Boston, in Janua- ry, 1779, for France, thinking he could assist us more effectually, for a time, in Europe than in America. He arrived at Versailles, then the regular residence of the French court, on the 12th of February, and the same day had a long con. ference with Maurepas, the prime minister. He was not permitted to see the king; and in a letter written at court the next day, we are told, that he received an order to visit none but his relations, as a form of censure, for having left France without permission ; but this was an order that fell very lightly on him, for he was connec- ted by birth or marriage, with almost every body at court, and every body else thronged to see him at his own hotel. The treaty LAFAYETTE. 341 which was concluded between America and France at just about the same period, was by Lafayette's personal exertions, made ef- fective in our favor. He labored unremittingly to induce his gov- ernment to send us a fleet and troops; and it was not until he had gained this point, and ascertained that he should be speedily fol- lowed by Count Rochambeau, that he emljarked to return. He reachcd'the headquarters of the array on the 11th of May, 1780, and there confidentially communicated the important intelligence to the commander-in-chief. He resumed his place in our service, and received the separate command of a body of infantry, consisting of about two thousand men, and equipped it partly at his own expense, rendering it by unwearied exertions, constant sacrifices and wise discipline, the best corps in the army. What he did for us, while at the head of this division, is known to all who have read the history of their country. His forced march to Virginia, in December, 17S0, rais- ing two thousand guineas at Baltimore, on his own credit, to sup- ply the pressing wants of his troops; his rescue of Richmond, which, but for his great exertions must have fallen into the ene- my's hands; his long trial of generalship with Cornwallis, who foolishly boasted, in an intercepted letter, that "the boy could not escape him;" and finally the siege of Yorktown, the storming of the redoubt, and the surrender of the place in October, 1781, are proofs of talent as a militar)'^ commander and devotion to the wel- fare of these states, for which he never has been repaid, and, in some respects, never can be. He was, however, desirous to make yet greater exertions in our favor, and announced his project of revisiting France for the pur- pose. Congress had already repeatedly acknowledged his merits and services in formal votes. They now acknowledged them more formally than ever by a resolution of November 2.3d, in which, besides all other expressions of approbation, they desire the foreign ministers of this government to confer with him in their negotiations concerning our affairs; a mark of respect and defer- ence of which we know no other example. In France, a brilliant reputation had preceded him. The cause of America was already popular there ; and his exertions and sacri- fices in it, which, from the first, had seemed so chivalrous and roman- 30 342 LAfAYETTE. tic, now came reflected back upon him, in the strong light of popular enthusiasm. While he was in the United States for the first time, Voltaire made his remarkable visit to Paris, and having met mad- ame de Lafayette at the Hotel de Choiseuil, he made her a long harangue on the brilliant destinies that awaited her husband as a defender of the great cause of popular freedom ; and ended by offering his homage to her on his knees. It is not remarkable, therefore, with such a state of feeling while he was still absent from the country, that on his return he was fol- lowed by crowds in the public streets wherever he went; and that i^a journey he made to one of his estates in the south of France, the towns through which he passed, received him with processions and civic honors; and that in the city of Orleans, he was detained nearly a week by the festivities they had prepared for him. He did not, however, forget our interests amidst the popular ad- miration with which he was surrounded. On the contrary, though the negotiations for a peace were advancing, he was constantly urging upon the French government the policy of sending more troops to this country, as the surest means of bringing the war to a speedy and favorable termination. He at last succeeded ; and count d'Estaing was ordered to hold himself in readiness to sail for the United States as soon as Lafayette should join him. When, therefore, he arrived at Cadiz, he found forty -nine ships and twenty thousand men ready to follow him, first for the conquest of Jamaica, and then for our assistance ; and they would have been on our coast early in the spring, if peace had not rendered further ex- ertions unnecessary. This great event was first announced to congress, by a letter from Lafayette, dated in the harbor of Cadiz, February 5, 1783. As soon as tranquility was restored, Lafayette began to receive pressing invitations to visit the country, whose cause he had so materially assisted. Washington, in particular, was extremely urgent; and yielding not only to these instances, but to an attach- ment to the United States, of which his whole life has given proof, he embarked again for our shores, and landed at New- York, on the 4th of August, 1784. His visit, however, was short. He went almost immediately to Mount Vernon, where he passed a few days, m the family of which he was so long a cherished member, and LAFAYETTE. 343 then visiting Annapolis, Baltimore, Philadelphia, New-York, Alba- ny, and Boston, received every where with unmingled enthusiasm and delight, he re-embarked for France. But when he was thus about to leave the United States for the third, and, as it then seemed, the last time, congress, in December, 1784, appointed a solemn deputation, consisting for its greater dignity, of one member from each state, with instructions to take leave of him on behalf of the whole country, and to assure him, "that these United States regard him with peculiar affection, and will not cease to feel an interest in whatever may concern his honor and prosperity, and that their best and kindest wishes will always attend him." It was at the same time resolved, that a letter be written to his most christian majesty, expressive of the high sense which the United States in congress assembled, entertain of the zeal, talents, and meritorious services of the marquis de Lafayette, and recommending him to the favor and patronage of his majesty. We are not aware, that a more complete expression of dignified and respectful homage could have been offered to him. During the year that followed tlie arrival of Lafayette in his own country, he found the minds of men more agitated on questions of political right than they had ever been before. He went, for a short time, in 1785, to Prussia, for the purpose of seeing the troops of Frederick second, and was received with distinguished kindness and consideration by that remarkable monarch; at whose courtyby U singular coincidence of circumstances, he frequently met with lord Cornwallis, and several other officers who had fought against him in the campaign that ended at Yorktown. But the grave and perilous discussions that were then going on in France, soon cal- led him back from Prussia. Into some of those discussions, he en- tered at once; on others he waited; but on all, his opinions were openly and freely known, and on all, he preserved the most per- fect consistency. He was for some time ineffectually employed with Malesherbes, the minister of Louis sixteenth, in endeavor- ing to relieve the protestants of France from pt)litical disabilities, and place them on the same footing with other subjects. He was the first Frenchman who raised his voice against the slave trade ; and it is worth notice, that having devoted considerable sums of money to purchase slaves in one of the colonies, and educate them 344 LAFAYETTE. for emancipation, the faction, which in 1792, proscribed him as an enemy to freedom, sold these very slaves back to their original servitude. And finally, at about the same time, he attempted with our minister, Mr. Jefferson, to form a league of some of the Eu- ropean powers against the Barbaresque pirates, which, if it had succeeded, would have done more for their suppression than has been done by Sir Sidney Smith's association, or is likely to follow lord Kxmouth's victories. But while he was busied in the interests, to which these discus- sions gave rise, the materials for great internal changes were col- lecting together at Paris, from all parts of France ; and in February, 1787, the assembly of the notables was opened. Lafayette was, of course, a member, and the tone he held throughout its session, contributed essentially to give a marked character to its delibera- tions. He proposed the suppression of the odious lettres de cachet, of which Mirabeau declared in the national assembly, that seven- teen had been issued against him before he was thirty years old ; he proposed the enfmnchisementof the protestants, who, from the time of the abolition of the edict of Nantz, had been suffering un- der more degrading disabilities than the catholics now are in Ire- land, and he proposed by a formal motion, — which was the first time that word was ever used in France, and marks and important step towards a regular deliberative assembly, — he made a motion for the convocation of representatives of the people. "What," said the count d'Artois, now Charles tenth, who presided in the as- sembly of the notables, "do you ask for the states general ?" "Yes," replied Lafayette, "and for something more and better;" an inti- mation, which, though it can be readily understood by all who have lived under a representative government, was hardly intelligible in France at that time. Lafayette was also a prominent member of the states general, which met in 1789, and assumed the name of the national assem- bly. He proposed in this body a declaration of rights, not unlike our own, and it was under his influence, and while he was, for this very purpose, in the chair, that a decree was passed, on the night of the 13th and 14th of July, at the moment the Bastile was falling before the cannon of the populace, which provided for the respon- sibility of ministers, and thus furnished one of the most important LAFAYETTE. 345 elements of a representative monarchy. Two clays afterwards, he was appointed commander-in-chief of the national guards at Paris, and thus was placed at the head of what was intended to be made, when it should be carried into all the departments, the effective military power of the realm, and what, under his wise management, soon became such. His great military command, and still greater influence, now- brought him constantly in contact with the court and the throne. His position, therefore, w^as extremely delicate and difficult, espe- cially as the popular party in Paris, of which he was not so much the head as the idol, was already in a state of perilous excitement and attrocious violences were beginning to be committed. The abhorrence of the queen was almost universal, and was qxces. sive to a degree of which we can now have no just idea. The circumstance that the court lived at Versailles, sixteen miles from Paris, and that the session of the national assembly, was held there, was another source of jealousy, irritation, and hatred on the part of the capital. The people of Paris, therefore, as a sign of oppo- sition, had mounted their municipal cockade of blue andred, whose effects were already becoming alarming. Lafayette, who was anxious about the consequences of such a marked division, and who knew how important are small means of conciliation, added to it, on the 26th of July, the white of the royal cockade, and as he placed it on his own hat, amidst the acclamations of the multitude, prophesied, that it "would go round the world ;" a prediction which is already more than half accomplished, since the tri-colored cock- ade has been used for the ensign of emancipation in Spain, in Na- ples, in some parts of South America, and in Greece. Still, however, the tendency of every thing was to confusion and violence. The troubles of the times, too, rather than the want of the means of subsistence, had brought on a famine in the capital ; and the populace of the Fauxbourgs, the most degraded certainly in France, having assembled and armed tliemselves, determined to go to Versailles ; the greater part, with a blind desire for vengeance on the royal family, but others only with the purpose of bringing the king from Versailles, and forcing him to reside in the more ancient but scarcely habitable palace of the Thuilleries, in the midst of Pari.s. The national guards clamored to accompany this 30* 346 LAFAYETTE. savage multitude; Lafayette opposed their inclination; the mtinj^ cipality of Paris hesitated, but supported it ; he resisted nearly the whole of the 5th of October, while the road to Versailles was al- ready thronged with an exasperated mob of above an hundred thousand ferocious men and women, until, at last, finding the mul- titude were armed, and even had cannon, he asked and received an order to march, from the competent authority, and set off at four o'clock in the afternoon, as one going to a post of imminent danger, which it had clearly become his duty to occupy. He arrived at Versailles at ten o'clock at night, after having been on horseback from before daylight in the morning, and hav- ing made, during the whole interval, both at Paris and on the road,, incredible exertions to control the multitude and calm the soldiers . "The marquis de Lafayette at last entered the chateau," says madame de Stael, and passing through the apartment where we were, went to the king. We all pressed round him^as if he were the master of events, and yet the popular party was already more powerful than its chief, and principles were yielding to faction^,, or rather, were beginning to serve only as their pretext. M. de Lafayette's manner was perfectly calm; nobody ever saw it otherwise ; but his delicacy suffered from the importance of the part he was called to act. He asked for the interior posts of the chateau, in order that he might ensure their safety. Only the outer posts were granted him." This was not disrespectful to him who made the request. It was given simply because the eti- quette of the court reserved the guard of the royal person and family to another body of men. Lafayette therefore, answered for the national guards, and for the posts committed to them,- but he could answer for no more ; and his pledge was faithfully and des- perately redeemed. Between two and three o'clock, the queen and the royal family went to bed. Lafayette too, slept, after the great fatigues of this fearful day. At half past four, a portion of the populace made their way into the palace by an obscure interior passage^ which had been overlooked, and which was not in that part of the chateau entrusted to Lafayette. They were evidently led by persons who' well knew the secret avenues. Mirabeau's name was afterwards strangely compromised in it, and the form of the infamous duke XAFAVETTE. 347 of Orleans was repeatedly recognized on the great staircase, point- ing the assassins the way to the queen's chamber. They easily found it. Two of her guards were cut down in an instant; and she made her escape almost naked. Lafayette immediately rushed in with the national troops, protected the guards from the brutal populace, and saved the lives of the royal family, which had so nearly been sacrificed to the etiquette of monarchy. The day dawned as this fearful scene of guilt and bloodshed was passing in the magnificent palace, whose construction had ex- hausted the revenues of Louis Fourteenth, and which, for a cen- tury, had been the most splendid residence in Europe. As soon as it was light, the same furious multitude filled the vast space, which, from the rich materials of which it is formed, passes under the name of the court of marble. They called upon the king in tones not to be mistaken, to go to Paris ; and they called for the queen, who had just escaped from their daggers, to come out upon the balcony. The king, after a short consultation with his minis- ters, announced his intention to set out for the capital ; but Lafaj - ette was afraid to trust the queen in the midst of the blood-thirstv multitude. He went to her therefore, with respectful hesitation, and asked her if it were her purpose to accompany the king to Paris. "Yes," she replied, "although I am aware of the danger." "Are you positively determined?" "Yes, sir." "Condescend then to go out upon the balcony, and suffer me to attend you." — "Without the king?" — she replied, hesitating — "have you observed the threats'" "Yes, madam, I have; but dare to trust me." He led her out upon the balcony. It was a moment of great respon- sibility and great delicacy; but nothing, he felt assured, could be so dangerous as to permit her to set out for Paris, surrounded by that multitude, unless its feeUngs could be changed. The agita- tion, the tumult, the cries of the crowd, rendered it impossible that his voice should be heard. It was necessary, therefore, to address himself to the eye, and turning towards the- queen, with that admirable presence of mind which never yet forsook him, and with that mingled grace and dignity which were the peculiar in- heritance of the ancient court of France, he simply kissed her hand before the vast multitude. An instant of silent astonish- ment followed ; but the whole was immediately interpreted, and the 348 LAFAYETTE. air was rent with cries of "long live the queen !" "long live the general!" from the same fickle and cruel populace, that only two hours before, had embrued their hands in the blood of the guards, who defended the Ufe of this same queen. The same day that this scene was passing, the first meeting of the Jacobin club was held. Against this club and its projects, La- fayette at once declared himself. With Bailly, the mayor of Paris, he organized an opposing club, and the victory between the two parties was doubtful for above a year and a half. The contest, however, which was produced by this state of things, placed La- fayette in a very embarrassing and dangerous position. He was obliged to oppose the unprincipled purposes of the Jacobins, with- out retreating towards the principles of the ancient despotism ; and it is greatly to his honor, that he did it most faithfully and consist- ently. When therefore, on the 20th of June, 1790, a proposition was suddenly made in the assembly to abolish all titles of nobility, Lafayette, true to his principles, rose to second it. A short dis- cussion fallowed. It was objected to the abolition of rank, that if there were no titles, no such reward could be conferred as was once conferred by Henry second, when he created an obscure person according to the terms of his patent, "noble and count, for having saved the country at such a time." "The only difference," replied Lafayette, "will be, that the words noble and count will be left out, and the patent will simply declare, that on such an oc- casion, such a man saved the state." From this time Lafayette renounced the title of marquis, and has never since resumed it. Since the restoration of the Bourbons indeed, and the revival of the ancient nobility, there has been sometimes an affectation among the ultra royalists of calling him by his former title ; but he has never recognized it, and is still known in France, only by the ad- dress of general. At least, if he is sometimes called otherwise there, it is not by his friends. At length tiie constitution of a representative monarchy, much more popular than that of Great Britain, which Lafayette's exer- tions had, from the first opening of the assembly, been consistent- ly devoted to establish, was prepared ; and all were desirous that it should be received and recognized by the nation in the most solemn manner. The day chosen as most appropriate for the LAFAYETTE. 349 ceremony, was the 14t]i of July, 1790, the anniversary of the destruction of the Bastile, and the open space behind the military school, called the Champ de Mars, from the Campus Martins of the Romans, was the place fixed on for this great national festival and solemnity. By the constant labor of above two hundred thousand persons of both sexes and all ranks, from dukes and duch- esses, bishops and deputies, down to the humblest artisans, who all made the occasion like the Saturnalia of the ancients, an am- pliitheatre of earth four miles in circumference was raised in a few weeks, whose sides were formed of scats destined to receive the French people, and amidst which stood the throne and the al- tar. On the morning of the day when the whole was to be con- summated, the king, the court, the clergy, the national assembly, a deputation of the military from the eighty -three departments, and a body of people amounting to above four hundred thousand souls, were assembled in this magnificicnt amphitheatre. Mass was first said, and then Lafayette, who, that day had the military command of four millions of men, represented by 14,000 elected militar}^ deputies, and who held in his hands the power of the monarchy, swore to the constitution on behalf of the nation, at the altar which had been erected in the midst of the arena. Eve- ry eye of that immense mass was turned on him; every hand was raised to join the oath he uttered. It was, no doubt, one of the most magnificent and solemn ceremonies the world ever saw ; and |)frhaj)5, no man ever enjoyed the sincere confidence of an entire people more completely than Lafayette did, as he thus bore the most imposing part in these extraordinary solemnities. The Champ de Mars, however, as madame de Stael has m ell observed, was the last monument of a genuine national enthusi- asm in France. The Jacobins were constantly gaining power, and the revolution was falling more and more into the hands of the populace. When the king wished to go to St. Cloud with his family, in order to pass through the duties of Easter, under the min- istration of a priest who had not taken certain civil oaths, which, in the eyes of many conscientious Catholics desecrated those who received them, the populace and the national guards tumultuous- ly stopped his carriage. Lafayette arrived at the first suggestion of danger. "If," said he, "this be a matter of conscience with 350 LAFAYETTE. your majesty, we will, if it is necessary, die to maintain it," and he offered immediately to open a passage by force ; but the king hesitated at first, and finally determined to remain in Paris. Lafayette indeed, under all circumstances, remained strictly faithful to his oaths ; and now defended the freedom of the king, as sincerely as he had ever defended the freedom of the people. His situation, therefore, became every day more dangerous. He might have taken great power to himself, and so have been safe. He might have received the sword of constable of France, which was worn by the Montmorencies, but he declined it ; or he might have been generalissimo of the national guards, who owed their existence to him; but he thought it more for the safety of the state that no such power should exist. Having, therefore, organ- ized this last body, according to the project he had originally formed for it, he resigned all command at the dissolution of the constituent assembly, with a disinterestedness of which, perhaps, Washington alone could have been his example ; and retired to his estate in the country, followed, as he had been for many years, by crowds wherever he went, and accompanied on his way by every form of popular enthusiasm and admiration. From the tranquility to which he now gladly returned, he was soon called by the war with Austria, declared April 20th, and in which he was at once appointed one of the three generals to com- mand the French armies. His labors in the beginning of thisw'ar, whose declaration he did not approve, were very severe, and fhe obstacles he surmounted, some of which were purposely, thrown in his way by the factions of the capital, were great and alarming. But tbe Jacobins of Paris were now a well organized body, and were fast maturing their arrangements to overturn thetonstitution. Violences of almost every degree of atrocity were become common,, find that public order, of which Lafayette had never ceased to speak on all suitable occasions, no longer existed. Under these circumstances, he felt that his silence would be an abandonment of the principles, to the support of which he had devoted his life ;. and with a courage which few men in any age have been able to show, and with a temperance which has always kept his conduct on one even line, he wrote a letter to the national assembly, dated June 16th, in which he plainly denounced the growing faction of ^, LAFAYETTE. 351 Jacobins, and called on the constituted authorities to put a stop to the atrocities this faction was openly promoting. In the course of this letter he dared to say, "let the royai authority be untouched, for it is guaranteed by the constitution ; let it be independent, for its independence is one of the springs of our liberty ; let the king be respected, for he is invested with the majesty of the nation; let him choose a ministry that shall wear the chains of no faction ; and if traitors exist, let them perish only under the sword of the law,-' , There was not another man in France, who would have dared to take such a step at such a time ; and it required all Lafayette's influence to warrant him in expressing such opinions and feelings, or to protect him afterwards. At first the Jacobins seemed to shrink from a contest with him. He said to the assembly, "let the reign of clubs, abolished by you, give place to the reign of the law ;" and they almost doubted whe- ther he had not yet power enough to effect what he counselled. They began, therefore, as soon as the letter had been read, by denying its authenticity : they declared it, in short, to be a forgery. As soon as Lafayette heard of this, he came to Paris, and avowed it at the bar of the assembly. The 20th of June, however, had overthrown the constitution before his arrival ; and though he stood with an air of calm command amidst its ruins, and vindicated it as proudly as ever, he was after all surrounded by those who had triumphed over it. Still the majority of the assembly was decid- edly with him; and when, on the 8th of August, his impeachment was moved, more than two thirds voted in his favor. But things were daily gi-owing worse. On the 9th of August, the assembly declared itself no longer free ; and within two days its number fe 11 to less than one third, and the capital was given up to the terrors of the 10th of August. Lafayette, therefore, could do nothing at Paris, and returned to his army on the borders of the low countries. But the army too was now infected. He endeavored to assure himself of its fidelity, and proposed to the soldiers to swear anew to the constitution. A very large proportion refused, and it now be- came apparent, from the movements both at Paris and in the army, that he was no longer safe. His adversaries, who, for his letter, were determined and interested to ruin him, were his judges, and they belonged to a party which was never known to devote a victim 352 LAFAYETTE. ,; without consummating the sacrifice. On the 17th of August, there- fore, accompanied hy three of his general officers, he left the army, and m a few hours he was beyond the limits of France. His gen- eral purpose was to reach the neutral territory of the republic of Holland, which was quite near, and from that point either rally the old constitutional party, or pass to Switzerland or the United States, where he should be joined by his family. That he did not leave France while any hope remained for him, is certain, since before his escape was known at Paris, a decree accusing him of high treason, which was then equivalent to an order for his ex- ecution, was carried in what remained of the assembly, by a large majority. Lafayette and his companions hoped to avoid the enemy's posts, but they did not succeed. They were seized the same night by an Austrian patrol, and soon afterwards recognized. They were not treated as prisoners of war, which was the only quality iu which they could' have been arrested and detained ; but were exposed to disgraceful indignity, because they Jiad been the friends of tJie constitution. After being detained a short time by the Austrians, they were given up to the Prussians, who, because their fortresses were nearer, were supposed to be able to guard th,em more conve- niently. At first they were confined at Wesel, on the Rhine, and afterwards in dungeons at Magdeburg. But the Prussians at last became unwilling to bear the odium of such unlawful and disgrace- ful treatment of prisoners of war, entitled to every degree of re- spect from their rank and character, and especially from the man- ner in which they had been taken. They therefore gave them up again to the Austrians, who finally transferred them to most un- healthy dungeons in the citadel of Olmutz. The sufferings to which Lafayette was here exposed, in the mere spirit of a barbarous revenge, are almost incredible. He was warned, "that he would never again see any thing but the four walls of his dungeon j that he would never receive news of events or persons; that his name would be unknown in the citadel, and that in all accounts of him sent to court, he would be designated only by a number; that he would never receive any notice of his family, or the existence of his fellow prisoners." At the same time knives and forks were removed from him, as he was officially informed, because his LAFAYETTE. 353 .situation was one which would naturally lead to suicide. His sufferings, indeed, proved almost be3'ond his strength. The want of air, and the loathsome dampness and filth of his dungeon, brought him more than once to the borders of the grave. His frame was wasted with diseases, of which, for a long time, not the sli^^ht- est notice was taken; and on one occasion, he was reduced so low that his hair fell from him entirely by the excess of his sufferinos. At the same time, his estates in France were confiscated, his wife oast into prison, and Fnyettism, as adherence to the constitution was called, was punished with death. His friends, however, all over Europe, were carefully watching every opportunity to obtain some intelligence, which should at least render his existence certain. Among those who made the most vigorous and continued exertions to get some hint of his fate, was count Lally Tolendal, then a refugee from his blood-stained country. This nobleman became acquainted in London with Dr. Erick Bollman, a Hanoverian, who immediately after the massa- cres of August 10th, 1792, had been employed by madame de Stael to effect the escape of count Narbonne, and by great address and courage, had succeeded in conveying him safely to England. Dr. Bollman's adventurous spirit easily led him to engage in the affairs of Lafayette. His first expedition to the continent, under the direction of Lafayette's friends in London, in 1793, was, how- ever, no further successful, than that he learned the determination of the Prussian government to give up Lafayette to Austria, and the probability that he had been already transferred. Where he was, and whether he were even alive, were circumstances Dr. Boliman found it impossible to determine. But the friends of Lafayette were not discouraged. In June, 1794, they again sent Dr. Bollman to Germany, to ascertain what had been his fate, and if he were still alive, to endeavor to pro- cure his escape. With great difficulty he traced the French pris- oners to the Prussian frontiers, and there ascertained that an Aus- trian escort had received them, and taken the road to Olmutz, a strong fortress in Moravia, one hundred and fifty miles north of Vienna, and near the borders of Silesia. At Olmutz, Dr. Bollman ascertained that several state prisoners were kept in the citadel, with a degree of caution and mystery, which must have been not 31 354 LAJ^'AYETTE. unlike that used towards the half fabulous personage in the iron mask. He did not doubt but Lafayette was one of them, and mak- ing himself professionally acquainted with the military surgeon of the post, soon became sure of it. By very ingenious means, Dr, BoUman contrived to communicate his projects through this surgeon to Lafayette, and to obtain answers, without exciting the surgeon's suspicions ; until at last, after the lapse of several months, during which, to avoid all risk. Dr. Bollman made a long visit at Vienna, it was determined that an attempt should bo made to rescue Lafay- ette, while on one of the airings with which he was then regularly indulged, on account of his broken health. As soon as this was arranged, Dr. Bollman returned to Vienna, and communicated his project to a young American by the name of Francis K. Huger, then accidentally in Ai stria, son of the per- son at whose house near Charleston, Lafayette had been fii'st re- ceived on his landing in America, a young man of uncommon tal- ent, decision and enthusiasm, who at once entered into the whole of the design, and devoted himself to its execution with the most romantic earnestness. These were the only two persons on the continent, except Lafayette himself, who had the slightest suspi- cion of these arrangements for his rescue, and neither of these ])ersons knew him by sight. It was, therefore, concerted between the two parties, after the two friends had come to Olmutz, in No- vember, that to avoid all mistakes when the rescue should be at- tempted, each should take off his hat and wipe his forehead, in sign of recognition ; and then, having ascertained a day when Lafay- ette would ride out, Dr. Bollman and Mr. Huger sent their carriage ahead to Hoff, a post about twenty -five miles on the road they wished to take, with directions to have it waiting for them at a given hour. The rescue they determined to attempt on horseback ; and they put no balls into their pistols, and took no other weapons, thinking it would be unjustifiable to commit a murder even to effect their purpose. Having ascertained that a carriage which they supposed must contain Lafayette, since there was a prisoner and an officer inside, and a guard behind, had passed out of the fortress, they mounted and followed. They rode by it, and then slackening their pace, ajfid allowing it again to go ahead, exchanged signals with the pris- • LAFAYETTE. 355 oner. At two or three miles from the gate, the carriage left the high road, and passing into a less frequented track in the midst of an open country, Lafayette descended to walk for exercise, guard- ed only by the officer who had been riding with him. This wa« evidently the moment for their attempt. They therefore rode up at once, and after an inconsiderable struggle with the officer, from which the guard fled to alarm the citadel, the rescue was completed. One of the horses, however, had escaped during the contest, and thus only one remained with which to proceed. Lafayette was immediately mounted on this horse, and Mr. Huger told him, in English, to go to Hotf. He mistook what was said to him for a mere general direction to go off — delayed a moment to see if he conW not assist them — then went on — then rode back again, and asked once more, if he could be of no service — and finally urged anew, galloped slowly away. The horse that had escaped, was soon recovered, and both Dr. Bollman and Mr. Huger, mounted him, intending to follow and as- sist Lafayette. But the animal proved intractable, threw them and ieft them for some time stunned by their fall. On recovering their Siorse n serond time, Dr. Bollman alone mounted; Mr. Huger thinking that from his own imperfect knowledge of the German, he could not do as much towards effecting their main purpose. These accidents defeated their romantic enterprise. Mr. Huger, %vho could now attempt his escape only on foot, was soon stopped by some peasants, who had witnessed what had passed. Dr. Boll- man easily arrived at Hoff; but not finding Lafayette there, lin- gered about the frontiers till the next night, when he too was ar- rested and delivered up to the Austrians. And finally, Lafayette, having taken a wrong road, and pursued it till his horse could pro- ceed no further, was stopped at the village of Jagersdoff, as a sus- picious person, and detained there till he was recognized by an of- ficer from Olmutz, two days afterwards. All three of them were brought back to the citadel and separately confined, without being permitted to know any thing of each other's fate. Mr. Huger was chained to the floor, in a small arched dungeon, about six feet by eight, without light and with only bread and water for food, and once in six hours, by day and by night, the guard entered, and with a lamp, examined each brick in his cell, and each link in his chain. 356 tAFAYETTE. To his earnest request to know something of Dr. Bollman, and to learn whether Lafayette had escaped, he received no answer at all. To his more earnest request to be permitted to send to his mother in America, merely the words, "I am alive," signed with his name, he received a rude refusal. Indeed, at first, every de- gree of brutal severity was practised towards both of them ; but af- terwards, this severity was relaxed. The two prisoners were placed nearer together, where they could communicate; and their trial for what, in Vienna, was magnified into a wide and alarming cons])iracy, was began with all the tedious formalities that could be prescribed by Austrian fear and caution. How it would have turned, if they had beenleftentirely unprotected, it is not difficult to conjecture: but at this crisis of their fate, they were secretly assisted by count Metrowsky, a nobleman living near their prison, whom neither of them had ever seen, and who was interested in them, only for what in the eyes of his government, constituted their crime. The means he used to influence the tribunal that judged them, may be easily imagined, since they were so far suc- cessful, that the prisoners, after having been confined for trial eight months, were sentenced only to a fortnight's imprisonment^ and then released. A few hours after they had left Olmutz, an order came from Vienna, directing a new trial, which, under the man- agement of the ministers, would of course have ended veiy differ^ ently from the one managed by count Metrowsky ; but the prisoners were already beyond the limits of the Austrian Dominions, Lafayette, in the meanwhile, was thrown back into his obscure and ignominious sufferings, with hardly a hope that they could be terminated, except by his death. During the winter of 1794 — 5, he was reduced to almost the last extremity by a violent fever; and yet was deprived of proper attendance, of air, of suitable food, and of decent clothes. To increase his misery, he was made to believe that he was only reserved for a public execution, and that his chivalrous deliverers would perish on the scafibld before his window ; while at the same time, he was not permitted to know whether his family were still alive, or had fallen under the revo- lutionary axe, of which, during the few days he was out of his dun- geon, he had heard such appalling accounts. Madame de Lafayette, however, was nearer to him than he IJIFAVETTE. 357 could imagine to be possible. She had beer, released from prison, where she too, had nearly perished ; and having gained strength sufficient for the undertaking, and sent her eldest son for safety, to the care of general Washington, she set out accompanied by her two young daughters, for Germany, all in disguise, and with Amer- ican passports. They were landed at Altona, and proceeding im- mediately to Vienna, obtained an audience of the emperor, who refused to liberate Lafayette, but as it now seems probable, against the intentions of his ministers, gave them permission to join him in his prison. They went instantly to Olmutz; but before they could enter, they were deprived of whatever they had brought with them to alleviate the miseries of a dungeon, and required, if they should pass its threshold, never again to leave it. Madame de La- fayette's iiealth soon sunk under the complicated sufferings and privations of her loathsome imprisonment, and she wi-ote to Vienna for permission to pass a week at the capital^, to breathe purer air and obtain medical assistance. Two months elapsed before any answer was returned; and then she was told, that no objection would be made to her leaving her husband,- but if she should do so, she must never return to him. She immediately and formally signed her consent and determination "to share his captivity in all its details:'' and never afterwards made an effort to leave him. Madame de Stael has well observed when on this point of the his- tory of the French revolution; — "antiquity offers nothing more admirable than the conduct of general Lafayette, his wife, and hss daughters, in the prison of Olmutz." One more attempt was made to effect the liberation of Lafayette, and it was made in the place and in the way that might have been expected. When the emperor of Austria refused the liberty of her husband to madame de Lafayette^ he told her that "his hands were tied." In this remark, the emperor could, of course, allude to no law or constitution of his empire, and therefore his hands could be tied only by engagements with his allies in the war against France. England was one of these allies, and general Fitzpatrick, in the house of commons, made a motion for an enquiry into the case, in which he was supported by colonel Tarleton, who had fought against Lafayette in Virginia. Afterwards on the 16th of Decem- ber, 1796, general Fitzpatrick renewed his attempt more solemnly, 31* 1 358 LAFAYETTE. and was supported in it by Wilberforce, by Sheridan, and by Fox. in one of his most powerful and happy speeches ; but the motion was lost. One effect, however, unquestionably followed from it : a solemn and vehement discussion on Lafayette's imprisonment, in which the emperor of Austria found no apologist, had been held in the face of all Europe; and all Europe, of course, was informed of his sufferings in the most solemn and authentic way. When, therefore, general Clarke was sent from Paris, to join Bonaparte in Italy, and negotiate a peace with the Austrians, it was understood that he received orders from the directory to stip- ulate for the deliverance of the prisoners in Olmutz, since it was impossible for France to consent to such an outrage on the rights of citizenship, as would be implied by their further detention. — On opening the negotiation, an attempt was made on the part of Austria, to compel Lafayette to receive his freedom on conditions prescribed to him; but this he distinctly refused; and in a docu- ment that has often been published, declared with a firmness which we can hardly believe would have survived such sufferings, that he would never accept his liberation in any way that should com- promise his rights and duties, either as a Frenchman or as an American citizen. Bonaparte often said, that of all the difficulties in this protracted negotiation with the coalition, the greatest was the deliverance of Lafayette. He was, however, at last released with his family, on the 25th of August, 1797; madame de Lafay- ette and her daughters having been confined twenty-two months, and Lafayette himself live years, in a disgraceful spirit of vulgar cruelty and revenge, of which modern history can afford, we trust, very few examples. France was still too little settled to promise peace or safety to Lafayette and his family. They proceeded first to Hamburg; and then, after causing their rights both as French and American citi- zens, to be formally recognized, went to the neighboring neutral territories of Holstein, where they lived in retirement and tran- quility about a year. There they were joined by their eldest son, who came to them from the family of general Washington; there too, their eldest daughter was married to Latour Mauburg, brother of a person who had shared Lamyette's captivity : and there he first devoted himself with great earnestness to those agricultural LAFAYETTE. 359 pursuits, which have since constituted the occupation and the hap- piness of his life. From Holstein he went, at the formal invitation of the Batavian republic, and established himself for several months at Utrecht in Holland, where he was treated with great consideration and kindness, and where he had the advantage of being nearer to the borders of his own country. While he was thus living tranquil and happy, but anxiously watching the pro- gress of events in France, the revolution of the 18th Brumaire, November 10th, 1799, happened and promised for a time to settle the government of his country on a safer foundation. He imme- diately returned to France, and established himself at La Grange ; a fine old castle, surrounded by amoderateestate, about forty miles from Paris, where he has lived ever since. When, however, Bonaparte, to whom the revolution of the 18th Brumaire had given supreme control, began to frame his constitu- tion and organize his government, Lafayette perceived at once, that the principles of freedom would not be permanently respected . He had several interviews and political discussions with the con- sul, and was much pressed to accept the place of Senator, with its accompanying revenues, in the new order of things ; but he re- fused, determined not to involve himself in changes which he al- ready foresaw he should not approve. In 1802, Bonaparte asked to be made first consul for life : Lafayette voted against it, entered his protest, and sent a letter to Bonaparte himself; and from this moment, all intercourse between them ceased. Bonaparte even went so far as to refuse to promote Lafayette's eldest son, and his son-in-law Lasteyrie, though they distinguished themselves re- peatedly in the army; and once, when a report of the services of the former in a bulletin was offered him, he erased it with impa- tience, saying, "these Lafayettes cross my path every where." — Discouraged, therefore, in every way in which they could be of ■service to their country, the whole family was at last collected at La Grange, and lived there in the happiest retirement, so long as the despotism of Bonaparte lasted. The restoration of the Bourbons in 1814, made no change in Lafayette's relations. He presented himself once at court, and was very kindly received ; but the government they established was so different from the representative government, which he 360 LAFAVETTE. had assisted to form and sworn to support in 1789, that he did not again present himself at the palace. The Bourbons, by neglect- ing entirely to understand or conciliate the nation, at the end of a year brought back Bonaparte, who landed the first of March, 1815, and reached the capital on the 20th. His appearance in Paris was like a theatrical illusion, and his policy seemed to be to play all men, of all parties, like the characters of a great drama, around him. Immediately on his arrival upon the soil of France, he endeavored to win the old friends of French freedom ; and the same day that he made his irruption into the ancient palace of the Thuilleries, he appointed Carnot his minister of war, and Carnot was weak enough to accept the appointment with the title of count. In a similar way, he endeavored to obtain the countenance and co-operationi of Lafayette. Joseph Bonaparte, to whom Lafayette was personally known, and for whom he entertained a personal regard, was employed by the emperor to consult and conciliate him; but Lafayette would hold no communion with the new order of things. He even refused, though most pressingly solicited, to have an interview with the emperor; and ended, when still further urged, by positively declaring that he could never meet him unless it should be as a representative freely chosen by the people. On the 22d of April, Napoleon offered to the French nation, his acte additional, or an addition, as he chose to consider it, to the constitutions of 1799, 1802, and 1804; confirming thereby the principles of his former despotism, but establishing among other things, an hereditary chamber of peers,, and an elective chamber of representatives. This act was accepted, or pretended to be accepted by the votes of the French people ; but Lafayette entered his solemn protest against it, in the same spirit with which he had protested against the consulship for life. The very college of electors, however, who received his protest, unanimously chose him, first to be their president and afterwards to be their repre- sentative; and the emperor, determined to obtain his influence,, or at least his silence, offered him the first peerage in the new cham- ber he was forming. Lafayette was as true to his principles as he had oflen been before, under more difficult circumstances. He accepted the place of representative, and declined the peerage. As a representative of the people, he saw Bonaparte for the LAFAYETTE. 361 first time, at the opening of the chambers, on the 7th of June. — "It is above twelve years since we have met, general," said Napo- leon, with great kindness of manner, when he saw Lafayette ; but Lafayette received the emperor with marked distioisl; and all his efforts were directed as he then happily said they should be, "to make the chamber, of which he was a member, a representation of the French people, and not a Napoleon club." Of three candi- dates for the presidency of the chamber on the first ballot, Lafay- ette and Lanjuinaishad the highest number of votes; but finding that the emperor had declared he would not accept Lanjuinais if ■he should be chosen, Lafayette used great exertions and obtained a majority for him; to -which, circumstances compelled Napoleon to submit. From this moment until after the battle of Waterloo, which happened in twelve days, Lafayette did not make himself prominent in the chamber. He voted for all judicious .supplies, on the ground that France was invaded, and that it was the duty of all Frenchmen to defend their country: but he in no way im- plicated himself in Bonaparte''s projects or fortunes, with which it was impossible that he could have any thing in common. At laei, on the 21st of June, Bonaparte arrived from Waterlo , a defeated and desperate man. He was already determined to dissolve the representative body, and assuming the whole dictator- ship of the country, play at least, one deep and bloody game for j)ower and success. Some of his council, and among the rest, Regnault de St. Jean d'Angley, who Mere opposed to this violent measure, informed Lafayette that it would be taken instantly, and that in two hours the chamber of representatives would cease to exist. There was, of course, not a moment left for consultation or advice; the elnperor or the chamber must fall that morning. As soon, therefore, as the session was opened, Lafayette, with the same clear courage and in the same spirit of self-devotion, wilh which he stood at the bar of the national assembly in 17132, im- mediately ascended the tribune for the first time for twenty years, and said these v.ords, which assuredly would have been his deatli warrant, if he had not been supported in them by the assembly he addressed; "when, after an interval of many yeais, I raise a voice which the friends of free institutions will still recognize, I feel myself called upon to .speak to you only of the dangers of the 302 LAFAYETTE. country, which you alone have now the power to save. Sinister intimations have been heard; they are unfortunately confirmed.— This, therefore, is the moment for us to gather round the ancient tri-colored standard; the standard of '89, the standard of freedom^ of equal rights, and of public order. Permit then, gentlemen, a veteran in this sacred cause, one who has always been a stranger to the spirit of faction, to offer you a few preparatory resolutions, whose absolute necessity, I trust, you will feel as I do." These resolu! ions declared the chamber to be in permanent session, and all attempts to dissolve it, high treason; and they also called for the four principal ministers to come to the chamber and explain the state of affairs. Bonaparte is said to have been much agitated, when word was brought him simply that Lafayette was in the tribune ; and his fears were certainly not ill founded, for these re- solutions, which were at once adopted, both by the representatives and the peers, substantially divested him of his power, and left him merely a factious and dangerous individual in the midst of a distracted state. He hesitated during the whole day, as to the course he should pursue; but at last, hoping that the eloquence of Luciun, which had saved him on the 18th Brumaire, might be found no less ef- fectual now, he sent him with three other ministers, to the cham- ber, just at the beginning of the evening; having first obtained a vote that all should pass in secret session. It was certainly a most perilous crisis. Reports M-ere abroad, that the populace of the Fauxbourgs had been excited, and were arming themselves. It was believed, too, with no little probability, that Bonaparte would march against the chamber as he had formerly marched against the council of five hundred, and disperse them at the point of the bayonet. At all events, it was a contest for existence, and no man could feel his life safe. At this moment, Lucien rose, and in the doubtful and gloomy light which two vast torches shed through the hall and over the pale and anxious features of the members, made a partial exposition of the state of affairs and the projects and hopes he still entertained. A dead and painful silence followed. At length, Mr. Jay, well known about twenty years ago in Boston, under the assumed name of Renaud, as a teacher of the French language, and an able writer in one of the LAFAYETTE. 363 public newspapers of that city, ascended the tribune, and, in a Ion"- and vehement speech of great eloquence, exposed the dangers of the country, and ended by proposing to send a deputation to the emperor, demanding his abdication. Lucien immediately fol- lowed. He never showed more power, or a more impassioned eloquence. His purpose was to prove, that France was still de- voted to the emperor, and that its resources were still equal to a contest with the allies. "It is not Napoleon," he cried, "that is attacked, it is the French people. And a proposition is now made to this people, to abandon their eniperor; to expose the French na- tion, before the tribunal of the world, to a severe judgment on its levity and inconstancy. No, sir, the honor of this nation shall never be so compromised!" On hearing these words, Lafayette rose. He did not go to the tribune : but spoke, contrary to rule and custom, from his place. His manner was perfectly calm, but marked with the very spirit of rebuke; and he addressed himself, not to the President, but directly to Lucien. "The assertion, which has just been uttered, is a calumny. Who shall dare to accuse the French nation of inconstancy to the emperor Napoleon ? That nation has followed his bloody footsteps tlirough the sands of Egypt and through the wastes of Russia; over fifty fields of battle ; in disaster as faithful as in victory; and it is for having thus de- votedly followed him, that we now mourn the loss of three millions of Frenchmen." These few words made an impression on the assembly which could not be mistaken or resisted ; and, as Lafay- ette ended, Lucien himself bowed respectfully to him, and with- out resuming his speech, sat down. It was determined to appoint a deputation of five members from each chamber, to meet the grand council of the ministers, and de- liberate in committee on the measures to be taken. This body sat during the night, under the presidency of Cambaceres, arch- chancellor of the empire. The first thing that was done in this committee, was to devise and arrange every possible means of resisting the invasion of the allies and the Bourbons ; and Lafay- ette was foremost in giving the government, for this purpose, eve- ry thing that could be asked. But it was apparent, from the rep- resentations of the ministers themselves, that they could carry on the war no longer. Lafayette then moved that a deputation should 364 LAFAYETTE, be sent to Napoleon, demanding his abdication. The arch-chan- cellor refused to put the motion ; but it was as much decided, as if it had been formally carried. The next morning, June 22d, the emperor sent in his abdication, and Lafayette was on the commit- tee that went to the Thuilleries, to thank him for it, on behalf of the nation. It had been the intention of a majority of both chambers, from the moment of their convocation, to form a free constitution for the country, and to call the whole people to arms to resist the invasion. In both of these great purposes they had been constantly opposed bv Bonaparte; and in the few hurried and anxious days that pre- ceded the battle of Waterloo, there had been time to do very little. There was now nothing but confusion. A project was arranged to place Lafayette at the bead of affairs, because it was known that he could carry with him the confidence of the nation, and es- pecially that of the national guards, whom he would immediately have called out en masse. But a scene of most unworthy intrigues was immediately begun. A crude, provisional government was established, with the infamous Fouche as its president, which lasted only a few days, and whose principal measure was the sending of a deputation to the allied powers, of which Lafayette was the head, to endeavor to stop the invasion of France. This of course failed, as had been foreseen. Paris surrendered on the 3d of July, and what remained of the representative government, which Bonaparte had created for his own purposes, but which Lafayette had turned against him, was soon afterwards dissolved. Its doors were found guarded on the morning of the 8th, but by what authority has never been known; and the members met at Lafayette's house, entered their formal protest, and went quietly to their own homes. Since this era, general Lafayette remained for many years in retirement, and took but little part in public affairs. He was twice returned a member of the chamber of deputies, since 1817, in op- position to all the influence of the ministerial party. He in gen- eral has taken but little part in the business of the legislature, believing that he could do no good. But the plan of the ministers to establish a censorship over the press, aroused the patriotism and spirit of this veteran of three revolutions. He declared with great energy, that the law was incompatible with even the most limited LAFAYETTE. ,. 365 freedom, and an outrage on the rights of the people; and he "con- jured the servants of the crown to maintain the hberties of France within the limits prescribed by the constitution. To violate it, is to dissolve the mutual garantees of the nation and the throne : it is to give ourselves up to total primitive freedom from all duties and from all laws." The proposed law was adopted by a small majority ; which led to the institution of a society, consisting of the members of the opposition and other liberals, for the relief of those who might suffer on account of the unjust restrictions on the press. General Lafayette was placed at the head of this society. As general Lafayette could discover but little gratifying to him in the political condition and future prospects of his native coun- try, his heart seemed to have inclined, with unusual fondness, to the country of his adoption. Having signified to many Americans and others, his intention of visiting the United States once more, numerous public and private letters were written to him from this country, expressing much satisfaction at this intelligence, and the hope that the citizens of the United States would soon be gratified by seeing among them this distinguished friend of America, and great apostle of liberty. Among other communications, were let- ters from the mayors of New-York and Boston, inviting him to visit those cities; and in January, 1824, congress adopted a reso- lution, requesting the president "to ofier him a public ship for his accommodation, and to assure him, in the name of the people of this great republic, that they cherished for him a grateful and af- fectionate attachment," This national respect, more honorable, perhaps, than any individual ever received before under similar circumstances, he declined, probably from motives of delicacy ; but embarked in a private vessel, and arrived at New-York on the 15th of August, 1824. He was accompanied by his son, George Washington Lafayette, and his friend and private secretary, M. Lavassieur. The reception which general Lafayette met with at the com- mercial metropolis of the United States, and in every other town which he visited, or through which he passed, was such as became the free citizens of the freest nation on earth, to offer to the first and most venerated patriot of the age, and the early and undeviat- ing friend of America, who had sacrificed his fortune and his blood 33 366 LAFAYETTE. in establishing its independence and liberty. Although he came among us as a private individual, he was received as a public or national character, as the guest of the country, and honored as the distinguished and disinterested benefactor of America, to whom ten millions of freemen acknowledged themselves measurably in- debted for the political privileges and blessings which they enjoy. No man ever received, and no one can receive greater honor than this ; the homage and gratitude of an entire nation, unbribed and unbought, flowing spontaneously, the free-will offering of the heart ; the universal impulse which vibrated as the pulse of the nation. These honors from the people, in their individual and primary character, called for corresponding conduct from the nation in its collective and corporate capacity ; and the representatives of the people met the wishes of their constituents, and as the organs of the public will, in the name of the nation showed that respect to the distinguished benefactor of the country, which corresponded with the sentiments manifested by the people. They did more; they offered a more substantial tribute of respect, and in some measure discharged the obligations of the nation to its disinter- ested and illustrious benefactor. President Monroe, in his message at the opening of the ses- sion, recommended to congress to make some remuneration to general Lafayette, for his services and sacrifices in the revolution- ary war, worthy the national character. The suggestion of the president, which was in accordance with the sentiments of the peo- ple, was very honorably followed up by congress, which manifest- ed its respect and liberality both, in a manner wholly unexampled. A committee was raised in each house, to consider and report v/hat provision it would be proper to make for general Lafayette, which reported a bill, granting to him two hundred thousand dollars in stock to be created for that purpose, and a township of land, to be located on any of the unappropriated lands of the government. This bill, after some slight opposition, which only served to call forth a disclosure of the immense expenditures and sacrifices of this veteran patriot, during the six years he was engaged in our revolutionary struggle, was adopted, there being only seven dis- senting voices in the senate, and twenty-six in the house. It was stated by Mr. Hayne, in the senate, that he had docu- LAFAYETTE. 367 ments in his hand, which had been obtained without the interfer- ence or knowledge of Lafayette, from which it incontestibly ap- peared, that during six years of the American war, he expended in the service seven hundred thousand francs, or one hundred and forty thousand dollars. This sum, at compound interest for forty three years, would amount to more than a million of dollars. — Mr. Hayne also stated another fact, highly honorable to the gen- eral. In 1803, congress granted him a tract of eleven thousand five hundred and twenty acres of land, to be located in any of the public lands ; and his agent located one thousand acres in the vi- cinity of the city of New-Orleans. Without attending to this fact, congress subsequently included this tract in a grant of land made to that city. This tract was then worth fifty thousand dollars, and is now said to be valued at five hundred thousand. Notwithstand- ing this, and although advised that his title was indubitably valid, the general, with singular delicacy of feeling, immediately relin- quished his claim, and caused a deed to be recorded, remarking, «that he would not enter into controversy ; the act had been gra- tuitous, and congress best knew what they intended to bestow." After the 'return of Lafayette to France, he resumed his agri- cultural pursuits at La Grange, till the breaking out of the revolu- tion of July, 1830. The events of that revolution are so recent that a particular detail in this place is unnecessary. It is well known, that on the first rising of the Parisian population, for the purpose of resisting the illegal measures of Charles X., La- fayette repaired to Paris, and lent all his efforts to overthrow the tyranny of the Bourbons. When this was accomplished, and Louis Phillipe called to the throne, Lafayette was appointed commander of the national guards. This post he held but a few months, ow- ing to a misunderstanding between him and the new king, since which time he has been looked upon with suspicion and distrust by the court. His popularity is still unbounded with the people ; and at the present time, October, 1831, he is a member of the cham- ber of deputies ; and often makes his voice heard in favor of the same principles of liberty, which he imbibed when fighting the battles of our revolution. He is now upwards of seventy years of age, but ^tains, in a remarkable degree, all the powers and faculties of mind, and his bodily activity is very little impaired. 368 STEUBEN. BARON DE STEUBEN, Major-General in the American Army, Among the foreign officers who repaired to the American stand- ard, and nobly and generously assisted in achieving our indepen- dence, none have higher claims upon our gratitude and esteem, after Lafayette, than the "good Baron Steuben :" born and edu- cated under a despotic government, he still was not insensible to the blessings of freedom and the rights of man. Frederick William Steuben was a native of Prussia, and born in the year 1735. Being designed for the profession of arms, he received a military education, and was early engaged in military employments. His military science, undoubted bravery, and as- siduous attention to duty, did not escape the penetration of the great Frederick ; and soon procured for the young baron, the con- fidence of his sovereign and the most honorable preferment. For many years,' he served in the memorable campaigns of his sov- ereign, the greatest commander of the age, with distinguished reputation. This was a school, in which the dullest could hardly fail of acquiring experience and knowledge in the art of war: and at the same time opened a field, sufficiently capacious for the most ardent aspirant for military fame. The war, which was termi- nated by the peace of 1763, in which France, Austria, Russia, Sweden and Saxony, were united against Prussia, and which was commenced on the part of the allies, for the conquest and spolia- tion of the dominions of his Prussian majesty, afforded the boldest and most successful campaigns, and the most splendid victories, of any in modern times. The exertions of the king of Prussia, in sustaining himself, with the assistance of Great Britain, as his ally, against so many, and so powerful enemies, were truly aston- ishing. But his active genius overcame all difficulties, taught his enemies to respect him, and secured to him a military reputation, not second to any commander of the age. To have served with this great general, in his memorable campaigns, and taken a part in such great and splendid victories as those of Prague, Lissa, Crevelt, Zoondorff, Minden, and Torgau, was sufficient to confer experience and establish a military character, of no ordinary dis- tinction. But to have performed this service, undjr a comman- der so severe, with success and honor, and to have secured his STEUBEN. 369 highest confidence, was a more conclusive proof of military genius and talents. And that baron Steuben did this, is sufficiently evi- dent, from the single fact, was there no other, of his having served as aid to his Prussian majesty — who would have no officer around his person, that did not sustain the first reputation for courage and capacity. The baron rose to the high rank of lieutenant-general in the Prussian service. At the breaking out of the American war, there was a general peace in Europe, which favored the wishes of those patriots and adventurers in that hemisphere, who desired to signalize their valor and patriotism, in assisting an infant people, struggling for their rights. Among the numerous foreigners who honored the American cause by crossing the Atlantic to serve it, some, no doubt, acted from no other motive than those which usually gov- ern the conduct of military adventurers. Many however, with- out doubt, were influenced by more noble and exalted motives ; a regard for liberty, and a sincere desire to establish it in the new world, which might serve both as an asylum, and an example for the old. And, notwithstanding the arbitrary government of Prus- sia, under which he had lived, such were the sentiments and views of baron de Steuben. His enlightened mind led him to esteem civil liberty as the highest earthly good ; and he was desirous of consecrating his attachment to it, by his services, if not by his blood. He sailed from France to the United States, and arrived at Portsmouth, in New-Hampshire, in November, 1777. He brought with him strong recommendations from the American com- missioners at Paris and others, to congress. Notwithstanding which, however, he informed that body, that he wished for rjp rank, or compensation, and only requested permission, as a volunteer, to render what service he could to the American army, and the cause in which the country was engaged. The following winter he spent at Valley Forge, where the American army was in win- ter quarters, under Washington. As is well known, the army, at this time, was in a most suffering condition ; being in want of pro- visions, clothing, and almost every thing which their comfort re- quired. But notwithstanding these discouraging circumstances, baron de Steuben exerted himself, with great assiduity, to improve the discipUne and manoeuvres of the army. From his great mil- 32* .'370 STEUBEN. itary science and experience, his prudent conduct, and the inter- est he manifested in the cause he had espoused, he soon acquired the confidence of Washington. Early in the year 1778, general Conway resigned the office of inspector-general ; and Washington, sensible of the great military skill and acquirements of Steuben, immediately recommended him to congress for that important post : which was soon after conferred upon him, with the rank of major- general. Being clothed with authority, and it being now his particular duty to attend to the discipline of the troops, his distinguished tal- ents as a tactician, were soon rendered conspicuous in the im- oroved discipline of the troops. He exerted himself to introduce a uniform and improved system of manoeuvres, and by his skill, perseverance and industry, effected, during the continuance of the troops at Valley Forge, a most important and advantageous improvement in the discipline of all ranks of the army. After general Arnold had treacherously deserted his post at West Point,.the baron never failed to manifest his indignation and abhorrence of his name and character, and while inspecting colonel Sheldon's regiment of light-horse, the name of Arnold struck his ear. The soldier was ordered to the front, he was a tine looking fellow, his horse and equipments in excellent order — "change your name, brother soldier," said the baron, "you are too respect- able to bear the name of a traitor." "What name shall I take, genera'?" "Take any other name; mine is at your service." — Most cheerfully was the offer accepted, and his name was entered on the roll as Steuben. He or his children now enjoy the land given to him in the town of Steuben by the baron. This brave soldier met him after the war. "I am well settled, general," said he, "and have a wife and son ; I have called my son after you, sir." "I thank you, my friend; what name have you given the boy?" "I called him Baron — what else could I call him?" When Sir Henry Clinton evacuated Philadelphia, for New- York, and v.as pursued by Washington, Steuben accompanied the A- merican army ; and although he had no particular command, he volunteered in the action at Monmouth. He continued his exer- tions to improve the discipline of the army and to introduce his system, and thus establish uniformity throughout the different corps STEUBEX, 371 of the army: and for this purpose^in 1779, an abstract of his sys- tem of discipline and tactics was published, in compliance with the wishes of the commander-in-chief, and of congress. This, being put into the hands of all the officers, had a wonderful influ- ence in giving uniformity to the different corps of the army. In October, 1780, after the defeat and dispersion of the south- ern army at Camden, under general Gates, great anxiety a\ as felt for the fate of the southern states • and congress, in a particu- lar manner, directed their attention to the state of the war in that department. Gen. Greene Avas appointed to supercede Gates; major Lee was promoted to the rank of lieutenant-colonel, and ordered to join the southern army with his legionary corps ; and baron de Steuben was directed to proceed to Virginia, to organize from the militia and other elements which the state afforded, the means of defence against the forces of the enemy, then in the state, and threatening the destruction of its principal towns. While upon this duty, a regiment had been collected, and was paraded on the point of marching, when a well looking man on horseback, rode up and informed the baron that he had brought him a recruit. "I thank you, sir," said the baron, "with all my heart; where is your man, colonel?" for he was a colonel in the militia, "Here, sir," ordering his boy to dismount. The baron's countenance changed, for he was too honest to suffer an imposition to be practised on the public. A sergeant was ordered to measure the lad, whose shoes, when off, discovered something by which his stature had been increased. The baron, patting the child's hea d with his hands, trembling with rage, asked him how old he was? He was very young, quite a child. "Sir," said he to the militia colonel, "you must have supposed me to be a rascal." Oh no! baron, I did not." "Then, sir, I suppose you to be a rascal, an infamous rascal, thus to attempt to cheat your country. Sergeant, take off this fellow's spurs, and place him in the ranks, that w-e may have a man able to serve, instead of an infant, whom he would basely have made his substitute ! Go, my boy, take the colonel's spurs and horse to his wife ; make my compliments, and say, her husband has gone to fight for the freedom of his country, as an honest man should do," — And instantly ordered — "platoons ! to the right wheel — forward, march !" 372 STEUBEN. Colonel Gaskins, who commanded the regiment, fearing the consequences, after marching some distance, allowed the man to escape, who immediately made application to the civil authority for redress; but governor Jefferson, Mr. Madison, and others, not doubting the purity of the baron's motive, and fully appreciating his honest zeal, prevented any disagreeable results attending this high-handed exertion of military power. Great apprehensions were felt for the safety of Richmond, — threatened by the British general Leshe, at Portsmouth; but about the time the baron arrived at the capital of Virginia, the enemy left Portsmouth, which prevented the necessity of those measures which had been planned for his expulsion, and Virginia, for a short time, remained tranquil. Early in January, 1781, however, this repose was disturbed by the arrival of the traitor Arnold in the Chesapeake, who landed his forces on the James River, a few- miles below Richmond. His ravages were immediately felt at Richmond, Smithfield, and other places. Baron de Steuben, ex- erted himself to collect and organize a force of militia to oppose his destructive progress. This induced Arnold to retire tp Ports- mouth, and commence works of defence. But the militia came in slow, and a considerable portion of which, being without arms, the baron could do no more than protect the country from the preda- tory incursions of small parties. These movements in Virginia induced congress to order Lafayette to the south, to oppose Arnold, with the expected co-operation of the French fleet. All the troops of the continental establishment of Virginia, being under general Greene, in South Carolina, the defence of the state, against the depredations of the enemy, rested on the militia, of which the baron had collected about 2,000 ; one half were on the north side of James River, under general Nelson, and with the other half, the baron made an attempt to protect Petersburgh, but his means being wholly inadequate to the object, he was obliged to retreat and suffer the enemy to enter the town. Previous to this, Arnold had been reinforced by general Phillips, who had taken the chief com- mand. The baron could do no more than watch the motions of the enemy, and check the predatory incursions of small parties. On the arrival of the marquis Lafayette, with a small force of regulars, he joined Steuben, and took upon him the chief com- STEUBEN. 373 mand. Their united force checked the progress of general Phil- lips, and compelled him to turn his steps towards City Point, where his fleet lay. In the various marches and counter-marches which character* ized the operations between Lafayette and lord Ccrnwallis, who had soon after assumed the command of the British forces in Vir- ginia, the baron Steuben aftbrdedthe most prompt and ready assist- ance to the young marquis. He was stationed at Point Fork, with five hundred new levies, to protect the American stores, when Tarleton was ordered to destroy them ; as the enemy approached, being led into a belief that the whole British army was near, he deemed it advisable to make a rapid retreat during the night, leav- ing all the stores to fall a sacrifice to the enemy. But though he lost the stores, he saved his men, and succeeded in joining the marquis, at the same time that he received a reinforcement of the rifle corps under colonel Clark, which enabled the marquis to as- sume a more imposing attitude. The baron continued to cc-ope- rate with Lafayette in the subsequent events of the campaign m hich was terminated by the siege of York-town. He generally had the command of militia, or of new levies, and was improving their discipline, whilst he was aiding the operations of the marquis. — He was present during tlie siege of York-town, and exerted him- self with great ardor in the various operations, and commanded in die trenches on the day the enemy surrendered, and was entitled (0 share in the honor of this memorable siege, which so gloriously terminated the great struggle in which the country was engaged. "At the siege of York-town, the baron was in the trenches, at the head of his division, and received the first overture of lord Cornwallis to capitulate. At the relieving hour, next morning, the marquis de Lafayette approached at the head of his division, to relieve him. The baron refused to quit the trenches, assigning as a reason the etiquette in Europe, that the oflTer to capitulate had been made during his tour of duty, and that it was a point of honor of which he would not deprive his troops, to remain in the trenches till the capitulation was signed or hostilities recommenced. The dispute was referred to the commander-in-chief, and the baron was permitted to remain till the British flag was struck. While on his duty, the baron, perceiving himself in danger from a shell 374 STEUBEN. thrown from the enemy, threw himself suddenly into the trench; general Wayne, in the jeopardy and hurry of the moment, fell on him; the baron, turning his eyes, saw it was his brigadier: "I al- ways knew you were brave, general," said he, "but I did not know you were so perfect in every point of duty; you cover your gen- eral's retreat in the best manner possible.' " — Thach. Mil. Jour. The Baron returned to the northward, and remained with the ar- my, continually employed, till the peace, in perfecting its discipline. "At the disbandment of the revolutionary army, when inmates of the same tent, or hut, for seven long years, were separating and probably forever; grasping each other's hand, in silent agony, I saw," says Dr. Thacher in his Military Journal, "the baron's strong endeavors to throw some ray of sunshine on the gloom, to mix some drops of cordial with the painful draught. To go, they knew not whither; all recollection of the art to thrive by civil oc- cupations, lost, or to the youthful never known. Their hard-earned military knowledge worse than useless, and with their badge of brotherhood, a mark at which to point the finger of suspicion — igno- ble, vile suspicion! to be cast out on a wide world, long since by them forgotten. Severed from friends and all the joys and griefs which soldiers feel! Griefs, while hope remained — when shared by numbers, almost joys ! To fjo in silence and alone, and poor and hopeless ; it was too hard ! On that sad day, how many hearts were wrung! I saw it all, nor will the scene be ever blur- red or blotted from my view. To a stern old officer, a lieutenant- colonel Cochran, from the Green Mountains, who had met dangei and difficulty in almost every step, from his youth, and from whose furrowed visage, a tear, till that moment had never fallen ; the good baron said what could be said, to lessen deep distress. For myself, said Cochran, "I care not, I can stand it; but my wife and daughters are in the garret of that wretched tavern. I know not where to remove, nor have I means for their removal I" "Come my friend," said the baron, "let us go — I will pay my respects to Mrs. Cochran and your daughters, if you please." "I followed to the loft, the lower rooms being all filled with soldiers, with drunk- enness, despair and blasphemy. And when the baron left the poor unhappy castaways, he left hope with them, and all he had to give." A black man, with wounds unhealed, wept on the wharf; STEUBEN. 375 (for it was at Newbiirg where this tragedy was acting) — there was a vessel in the stream, bound to the place where he once had friends. He had not a dollar to pay his passage, and he could not walk. Unused to tears, I saw them trickle down this good man's cheeks as he put into the hands of the black man, the last dollar he possessed! The negro hailed the sloop, and cried, "God Al- mighty bless you, master baron!" The following anecdote is highly creditable to the magnanimity and honorable feelings of the baron. The baron was a strict disciplinarian. One day on a march, some disorder occurred in the ranks, which would have been of a serious character, had it taken place during battle. This disorder was erroneously attributed by the baron, to the misconduct of a young ensign. The ensign was immediately ordered to the rear as a mark of disgrace. He retired under the deepest mortifica- tion. As soon as opportunity presented, the colonel of the regi- ment represented the affair in its true light to Steuben. "Order ensign to come to the front,"' was his prompt command , When the young man made his appearance, the baron pulled oft' his hat, and in the presence of the whole army, made a dignified and ingenious apology for the wound he had inflicted upon him. No eye among the soldiers was unwet, while the baron stood un- covered, the rain beating upon his bald head, and repaired the in- jury he had done to the feelings of a brother officer so much infe- rior to him in rank. Here was true greatness and magnanimity, for the wise man hath declared, "greater is he that ruleth his own spirit, than he that taketh a city." What good and honorable man, civil or military, before the ac- cursed party spirit murdered friendships, did not respect and love the baron ? Who most? Those who knew him best. After the peace, the baron retired to a farm in the vicinity of New- York, where, with forming a system for the organization and discipline of the militia, books, chess, and the frequent visits of his nume- rous friends, he passed his time as agreeably as a frequent want of funds would permit. The state of New-Jersey, had given him a small improved farm, and the state of New-York, gave him a tract of sixteen thousand acres of land in the county of Oneida. After (he general government was in full operation, by the exertions of 376 STEUBEN. colonel Hamilton, patronized and enforced by president Washing- ton, a grant of two thousand five hundred dollars per annum was made to him for life. The summers were now chiefly spent on his land, and his winters in the city. His sixteen thousand acres of land were in the uncultivated wilderness; he built a convenient log house, cleared sixteen acres, parcelled out his land on easy terms to twenty or thirty tenants, distributed nearly a tenth of the tract in gifts to his aid-de-camp and servants, and sat himself down to a certain degree contented without society, except that of a young gentleman who read to and with him. He ate only at din- ner, but he ate with strong appetite. In drinking he was always temperate; indeed he was free from every vicious habit. His powers of mind and body were strong, and he received, to a certain extent, a liberal education. His days were undoubtedly shortened by his sedentary mode of life. He was seized with an apoplexy, which in a few hours was fatal. Agreeably to his desire, often expressed, he was wrapped in his cloak, placed in a plain coffin, and hid in the earth, without a stone to tell where he lies. A (ew neighbors, his servants, the young gentleman, his late companion, and one on whom for fifteen years, his countenance never ceased to beam with kindness, followed to the grave. It was in a thick, a lonely wood, but in a few years after, a public highway was open- ed near or over the hallowed sod ! Colonel Walker snatched the poor remains of his dear friend from sacrilegious violation, and gave a bounty to protect the grave in which he laid them, from rude and impious intrusion. He died in 1795, in the 65th year of his age." — Thacher's Military Journal. Baron Steuben, possessed profound and extensive professional knowledge, the result of much study and experience, which was united with a competent share of general science and intelligence, matured by great experience ; he was accomplished in his man- ners, correct in his morals, and was sincerely attached to the dear- est interests of humanity. His system of discipline and tactics was adopted in the militia of the United States, and continued to be used for a great number of years ; and had a very e.xtensive and salutary influence in promoting discipline and knowledge of the use of arms. KOSCIUSKO. 377 KOSCIUSKO, Colonel in the American Army. When the fame of our revolutionary struggle reached Europe, it drew to our standard many distinguished foreigners, men of con- siderable military science, who nobly lent their aid to an infant people, struggling in defence of their liberties, in what was sup- posed by many to be an unequal contest. Kosciusko, one of the first and bravest of the Polish patriots, was among the most cele- brated and disinterested of this number. AUhough it does not appear that he performed much, or any important service in the American war; yet, from his distinguished character as a patriot, and the noble struggles he had made in defence of the indepen- dence of his own country, a sketch of his life must be interesting, and properly belongs to a work containing the memoirs of the mil- itary heroes of the American revolutionary war. This high-minded patriot was first distinguished in the war which terminated in the dismemberment of Poland by Russia, Austria, and Prussia. Poland had long been distracted with dis- sentions, often breaking out into civil war; and particularly since the conquest of the country by Charles XII. of Sweden, which led to the interference of Russia; and afterward that dangerous neigh- bor always had a strong party in Poland, and generally a control. ling influence. Charles XII. conquered Augustus, and compelled him to abdicate in favor of Stanislaus Leczinski, whom he had previously caused to be elected king. The armies of the czar, which Augustus had availed hiniself of, had not been sufficient to save him from this humiliating result. The battle of Pultowa overthrew the power of Charles, and Augustus was restored by the aid of Russia, the latter taking care to be well paid for its friendly interference. During the reign of this prince and his son, Augustus II. Poland was little better than a Russian province, surrounded by Russian troops; and the country being torn to pieces by contentions among the nobles, they were kept on the throne only by the power of Russia. On the death of Augustus II. in 1764, Catharine II. empress of Russia, compelled the diet to elect Stanislaus Poniatowski, a Pole of noble rank, who had resided for some time at Petersburgh, and 33 378 KOSCIUSKO. made himself agreeable to the empress, who supposed that his election would promote the influence and designs of Russia. This increased the disorders, and inflamed the rage of the two great parties, the Russian and anti-Russian, towards each other. At this time, to their political causes of dissension, were added those of religion. The Protestants, who in Poland were called Dissi- dents, had long been tolerated, but still suffered under many civil disabilities, which were greatly increased by a decree that was passed during the interregnum that preceded the election of Poni- atowski. They were, in a great measure, denied the free exercise of religious worship, and excluded from all political "privileges. — This unjust and impolitic measure roused the spirit of the Pro- testants : they petitioned and remonstrated ; they applied to the courts of Russia, Prussia, Great Britain, and Denmark, all of which remonstrated to the government of Poland, but without any essen- tial effect. Some unimportant concessions were made, which did not satisfy the Dissidents, who were determined to maintain their rights with their blood, being encouraged to this determination by assurance of support from Russia, Austria, and Prussia. The Ca- tholics were not behind their opponents in preparations for war; and the "confederation of the Barr" formed the bulwark of their strength and hopes. With both parties, "Religion and liberty" became the watchword, and a signal for war. The confederates, as the Catholics were denominated, not only wished to overcome tkeir opponents, but to dethrone Stanislaus, and rescue the country iVom the influence of Russia. This desperate civil v.'ar was very gratifying to the ambitious neighbors of Poland, who, a consider- able lime before, had entered into a secret treaty for the conquest and partition of Poland. The armies of Russia, Prussia, and Aus- tria, invaded the country in various directions, and seized upon different provinces. The confederates, or the anti-Russian party, comprising most of the distinguished Polish patriots, made a resolute and determined struggle; but being feebly supported by Saxony and France, and having to contend with numerous forces of the coalition which invaded the country, as well as those of their opponents at home, they were defeated in every quarter, and the country left a prey to the three royal plunderers. They issued a manifesto, declaring KOSCIUSKO. 37'9 that the dissensions and disorders of Poland had rendered their interference necessary, and that they had adopted combined mea- sures for the re-establishment of good order in Poland, and the set- tlement of its ancient constitution, and to secure the national and popular liberties of the people on a solid basis. But the security and protection which they afforded to unhappy Poland, was like that which the wolf affords to the Iamb; and the tears they shed over her misfortunes, were like those of the crocodile when prey- ing on its victim. Instead of securing the rights of the Dissidents, ■which was the professed object of the war, the combined sover- eigns thought only of aggrandizing themselves; and, after great difficulty, they finally succeeded in dividing the spoil ; a treaty for the partition of Poland being concluded at Petersburgh in Fe- bruary, 1772. Russia took a large proportion of the eastern provinces ; Austria appropriated to herself a fertile tract on the southwest, and Prussia the commercial district in the northwest, including the lower part of the Vistula ; leaving only the central provinces, comprising Warsaw and Cracow, the modern and an- cient capital. Thus was Poland despoiled by three royal robbers, ■which Europe witnessed, not without astonishment, but without an effectual interference. The courts of London, Paris, Stockholm, and Copenhagen, remonstrated against this violent usurpation, ■which probably had as much effect as was expected — none at all. In this unjust and cruel war, Kosciusko had taken an active and zealous part in defence of the independence of his country ; but his patriotism and exertions were unavailing; the patriotic Poles could not resist the power of faction, and the invading armies of three formidable neighbors. To strengthen acquisitions, the allied powers insisted on Stanislaus convoking a diet to sanction the par- tition ; and, notwithstanding the influence of three powerful armies, the diet refused to ratify this injustice for a considerable time ; but, by promises of favors, and by profuse use of money among the members, together with the influence of militarj^ force, a majority of six in the senate, and of one in the assembly, was at length ob- tained in favor of the iniquitous measure, and commissioners were appointed to adjust the terms of the partition. This completed the humiliation and degradation of Poland, and occasioned many of her most distinguished patriots to leave their dismembered and 380 KOSCIUSKO. unhappy country. This took place in May, 1773. Kosciusko was among those who retired from the country. The war that broke out between the American colonies and Great Britain, opened a field for military adventurers from Europe, it being supposed that America was destitute of men of military science and experience ; and being justly regarded as a contest for liberty, between an infant people, few in number, and with feeble means, and the most powerful nation on earth, many patriots of the old world repaired to America, as volunteers in the cause of free- dom. The first events and successes of the contest, and the dig- nified attitude assumed by the solemn declaration of independence, produced the most favorable impression abroad, which brought ma- ny distinguished foreigners to our shores in the early part of the year 1777. The distinguished Polish patriot, who is the subject of this brief notice, and his countryman, count Pulaski, were among the number. It is not known at what time either of them arrived, but it is believed it was early in the year 1777, as the lat- ter was present and distinguished himself in the battle of Brandy- wine. So many foreigners of distinction arrived, that congress was embarrassed in giving them employment corresponding with their expectations and rank ; and from the commissions which were given to foreigners, disagreeable jealousies were produced among the native officers of the continental army. Kosciusko, like the mar- quis de Lafayette and others, had been influenced wholly by pat- riotic motives and an ardent attachment to liberty ; he had no occa- sion to acquire military fame, and he possessed a soul which raised him infinitely above becoming a mercenary soldier. He wanted neither rank nor emolument; his object was to sei've the cause, not to serve himself He, however, received a colonel's commission, and was employed under general Greene, in the southern cam- paign of 1781. In the attack on Ninety-Six, a very strong post of the enemy in South Carolina, Kosciusko being a skilful engi- neer, Greene intrusted to him the important duty of preparing and constructing the works for the siege. He continued in the service until after the capture of Cornwallis at York-town, which terminated all the important operations of the war. On leaving America, Kosciusko returned to his native country, where he exerted himself for the improvement of the political KOSCIUSKO. 381 condition of his countrymen, and promoting the general prosperity. Stanislaus exerted himself to improve what territory was left him by his friendly neighbors ; a taste for agriculture was cherished ; the condition of the peasantry, who had been so long enslaved and degraded, was raised ; and a national system of education estab- lished. But the most important improvement was in the constitution of the state. The disorders and factions which had so long and so unhappily prevailed, had convinced all enlightened patriots, that the existing constitution was the fertile source of their internal dissensions ; and that it was incompatible with the tranquility or prosperity of the countrj'. After repeated attempts, the diet, in 1791, succeeded in establishing a new constitution on just and libe- ral principles, so wisely framed, that Mr. Burke commended it, by saying that the condition of all was made better, and the rights of none infringed. But the prosperity and hopes which these improvements were calculated to afford, were soon dissipated. Poland was again des- tined to become the victim of the "she bear" of the North. A few of the nobles, disaffected at the new constitution, which had de- prived them of some of their privileges, presented their com- plaints to the court of Petersburgh, which, glad of a pretext for interfering in the afTairs of Poland, immediately marched a nume- rous army into the country, for the ostensible object ol' re-estab- lishing the constitution of 1772. But the real designs of Russia, were too apparent to be mistaken ; and the Poles did not delay in making preparations for hostilities. This base aggression, and the remembrance of her former rapacity, aroused the nation to a sense of its danger; all dissensions and animosities were forgotten in the common struggle; a spirit worJhy the occasion was excited, and every class and rank were resolved to conquer or die in de- fence of the independence and liberties of their country. The nobles presented their plate and valuable jewels to enrich the trea- sury, and afford the means of carrying on the war. The prince Poniatowski, nephew of the king, and Kosciusko, were at the head of the armies, and displayed prodigies of valor. But with all their exertions, bravery, and perseverance, they were unable to resist the power of Russia, whose armies were almost every where suc- cessful. And being threatened by the empress, with a devastation 33* 382 KOSCIUSKO. of" the country, if he made further resistance, and that she would double her present force, Stanislaus, to prevent further effusion of blood, surrendered at discretion, and was conveyed to Grodno, to await the decision of the conqueror. Neither the king nor the na- tion, were long kept in suspense, for soon the courts of Russia and Prussia, promulgated a manifesto,^ declaring their intention of an- nexing to their dominions several of the adjoining provinces of Poland. This was early in the year 1793, Not satisfied Avith their former spoliations, the king of Prussia and empress of Russia, resolved to lighten the burdens of gov- ermnent, which they believed too heavy for Stanislaus to sustain, by a second partition of his kingdom. Accordingly the latter seized on the country from the Dwina to theNeister; and assuming the civil government of the territory, the inhabitants were ordered to take the oath of allegiance to her imperial majesty, or abandon the conquered district; and the king of Prussia, not to be behind his ally in a neighborly regard for Poland, wrested from it several provinces, besides the cities of Dantzic and Thorn. These high- handed depredations were made with the assent of the emperor of Austria, and pretended to be necessary precautions against the contagion of jacobinal principles, which might otherwise infect their dominions bordering on Poland. Again a diet was convoked, and compelled, by military power, to sanction this second partition of the Polish dominions. The Russian ambassador informed the diet, "that to prevent any kind of disorder,.he had caused two bat- talions of grenadiers, with four pieces of cannon, to surround the castle, to secure the traivquility of their deliberations." But al- though the country had been rent in pieces, the spirit of the nation was not destroyed; and as long as a particle remained, such injus- tice and violence was calculated to call it into action. The nation was roused, and the patriotism of the Polish nobles was once more called forth. It was readily perceived that nothing could be done without a leader, and the eyes of all were directed to Kosciusko, who had taken refuge in Saxony, with Potocki, Kolontay, and Za- jonzek. These four resolute patriots rejoiced at the spirit of re- sistance to oppression, which was roused among their countrymen, and were prepared to exert all their energies, and to shed the last drop of their blood for the independence and freedom of their op- KOSCIUSKO. 383 pressed and much injured country. Zajonzek was despatched to Warsaw, to learn the state of affairs, to confer with the chief mal- contents, and concert the plan of operations. And in the mean- time, Kosciusko repaired to the frontiers, and anxiously waited the result of this mission. It was determined to make an attempt to rescue the country from the slavery of Russian domination ; but suspicions of the design having been excited, it was thouglit ad- visable that no movements should be made at that time. Kosciusko retired to Italy for greater safety, where he was soon joined by Zajonzek, who had been banished from the Polish territories as a promoter of sedition. He informed Kosciusko that his countrymen were ripe for a revolt, and that they wished to have him appear without dela}^, as a more favorable opportunity would not occur. The ambitious designs of Russia were no longer concealed : the ambassador of the empress ordered the constitution of 1791, an- nulled, and the military force of Poland reduced to sixteen thou- send men ; thus intending to deprive the nation of all power of re- sistance. The patriotic Mondalinski, placing himself at their head, the troops were invincible, and refused to lay down their arms. The spirit of resistance was spread through the country, and the ardor of the nation roused to the highest pitch. The Russians, to enforce their mandates, sent a numerous army into the country, whose ruthless conduct drove the Pol.es to desperation. The pea- santry were compelled to feed, lodge, and convey their enemies from place to place, without compensation, and thus to become the instruments of enslaving their own country. The severe and cruel treatment exasperated the public feeling, and the spirit of revenge and resistance became inveterate and universal. At this time, the great patriot and hero, to whom all looked as a leader, appeared, and was immediately appointed generalissimo of the patriot army, and chief of the confederacy. He took the oath of fidelity to the nation, and of adherence to the act of in- surrection, by which war was declared against the ruthless inva- ders of the rights and independence of Poland. Like Washing- ton, he had conferred on him such ample powers, as, in the pos- session of any other man, would have been a source of jealousy, if not of real danger; but his country had the most unbounded confidence in Kosciusko, which was not misplaced. He issued a 384 KOSCIUSKO. proclamation, containing an appeal to every rank and class of the people, to rally round the standard of their country and of freedom, and to break the chains which enslaved them, or perish in the at- tempt. This appeal was not made in vain : he was soon sur- rounded by a large number of armed peasantry; and the nobility having proclaimed the constitution of 1791, departed to their res- pective estates, to bring their vassals into the field. The Russians were soon driven out of Cracow, which became the head-quar- ters of the patriot army. A Russian force of six thousand men marching toward Cracow, under general Woronzow, to attack the patriots, was engaged by their brave leader, and defeated with the loss of one thousand men, and eleven pieces of cannon, and their general made prisoner. This splendid success became the signal for general hostilities, and had the most favorable influence. The Russian general, Igelstrom, attempted to make himself mas- ter of the arsenal at Warsaw, but was resolutely repelled by the inhabitants, who, after a bloody contest of three days, drove the Russians from the city, with the loss of more than fifteen hundred men. The enemy retired to the camp of the Prussidn general. Wolki. In other towns the inhabitants displayed similar bravery and resolution, and in many, their exertions were successful. These successes served. to inspire confidence, and to animate the most desponding; the whole country was soon in arms, and sixty thous- and troops were in the field, exclusive of the peasantry, who were armed with pikes. These movements filled with astonishment the courts of Petersburg and Berlin, who had flattered themselves that Poland was so far humbled, and the spirit of the nation so broken, that it had no longer the power to make any resistance. Being exasperated at this unexpected resistance, Catharine and Freder- ick madc'great exertions to overcome the insurgents, as they called them, and to defend the country they had forcibly annexed to their own dominions. These two powers marched one hundred and ten thousand men into Poland, all regular and well disciplined troops, which gave them a decided superiority. Kosciusko, how- ever, made a skilful retreat upon Warsaw, where he was besieged by a large Prussian army. He defended the place for ten weeks, when, after sustaining a loss of twenty thousand men, the Prus- KOSCIUSKO. 385 sian commander was obliged to raise the siege and retire to his own territories. During this siege, the Russians had overrun Lithuania and Volhynia; and Kosciusko being at Uberty, marched to oppose them. The eyes of Europe and America were fixed on him, as this was justly viewed as the last struggle of an oppressed but brave people; all who loved hberty, or regarded justice, felt an ardent desire for their success ; and from the noble spirit which pervaded the nation, and from the victories which had been a- chieved, great hopes were entertained. These, however^ were too soon found to be fallacious ; fortune did not favor the patriot chief, and Poland was destined to fall, and to be erased from the map of nations. Kosciusko and his brave companions in arm?, fighting for their liberty, the independence of their country, the safety of their wives and children, displayed feats of bravery and determined perseverance worthy of the sacred cause in which they were engaged, with the disciplined but ferocious barbarians of the north. The battle of Mackijowice, the most bloody and most fatal to the Poles, lasted an entire day, the Russians were twice repulsed, and prodigies of valor rendered the fortune of the day doubtful, when Kosciusko fell senseless, pierced with wounds. He had made his attendants swear not to abandon him living to the power of the Russians, and it is asserted that some Polish horsemen, not being able to rescue his body, struck him with their sabres on the head and left him for dead on the field of battle. The Cosaques were already prepared to strip his body, when he was recognized by some officers. As soon as the name of Kosciusko was pro- nounced, even the Cosaques themselves, testified the respect due to courage and misfortune. All the aid of art was lavished on him and he was treated with the greatest regard. But an order soon arrived to have him transported to Petersburg, where Catha- rine, who was sometimes generous, but then too much irritated to be so, had him plunged into a dungeon. He would, without doubt, have terminated his career in prison, or augmented the number of wretched Poles who already languished in the deserts of Siberia, if the death of the empress had not come to change his destiny. One of the first acts of Paul I., was to render homage to the vir- tues of Kosciusko. He not only immediately set him at liberty, 386 KOSCIUSKO. but granted him a pension, which the noble Pole would not touch, and the brevet of which he sent back as soon as he reached a soil beyond the fear of Russian influence. The last vial of wrath was poured out on Poland, and her fate was irrevocably sealed: — "0/?.' bloodiest picture in the hook of time! Sarmatia fell unv^ept, without a crime, Found not a gcnerousfriend, a pitying foe, Strength in her arms, or mercy in her wo; Dropp''d from her nerveless grasp the shattered spear, Closed her bright eye and ciirVd her high career; — Hope for a season hade the world farewell ; And freedom shrielc'd as Kosciusko felV The whole country was now in the possession of the Russians and Prussians, except Warsaw, where the troops of the invaders were marching to besiege it. The brave Poles, ^^kw, but undis- mayed,'" consisting of not more than ten thousand men, were de- termined to make a desperate resistance, and to sell their lives as dear as possible. As soon as the Russian army reached the sub- urb of Prague, tliey erected during the night several batteries, and a furious assault was then commenced. The two first divisions, after suffering severely from a vigorous fii'e of the inhabitants for more than eight hours, at length overcoming all obstacles, rushed into the place, pursued the routed foe through the streets, slaugh- tered about two thousand of them, and drove one thousand into the Vistula. The entrenchments were every where forced, and the streets filled with dead; a regiment of Jews having made an ob- stinate defence, were nearly all killed ; the fugitives being pursued to the river, which stopped their flight, several thousand were massacred. Not satisfied with the slaughter of the battle, about ten hours afterward, the ruthless and infamous Suwarrow, the Kehgis-Khan of modern times, ordered the city set on fire, and delivered the inhabitants up to plunder and massacre. No age, sex, or condition was spared, but all were alike exposed to the brutal violence of a ferocious soldiery, and were involved in one common ruin. Slore than fifteen thousand persons were killed or drowned, and about the same number were made prisoners ; a majority of whom were soon after released. Humanity weeps KOSCIUSKO. 387 ovt is horrid scene, and Christianity blushes that sr.ch savage mor rs should assume the name. W ii his numerous wounds were healed, Kosciusko repaired to A rica, where he was received as a citizen should be, who had b< n lavish of -his blood in two worlds for the sacred cause of liberty. In 1798 he returned to France, where the same honors awaited him,- at Paris every faction united in celebrating his arri- val, and his countrymen of the army of Italy having found, at the taking of Loretto, the sabre of an ancient defender of Poland and Germany, John Sobiesky, who had vanquished the Turks under the walls of Vienna,judged Kosciusko alone worthy of possessing the weapon, and sent it to him. Kosciusko preferred the sojourn of France to any other, and remained there a long time, without accepting, however, any employment. The Polish hero, in a humble rt;treat in the country, occupied his leisure hours in rustic labor, and like the great Conde at Chantilla, amused himself with the cuituie of flowers. But he did not cease to be attentive to the desire of his country, and to give useful lessons to his fellow citi- zens. In 1814, when France was invaded by foreign troops, Kos- ciusko happened to be at a country house, in the environs of Fon- tainbleau. The commune he inhabited was infested by plunder- ing mercenaries; he threw himself among them, protected the cit- izens, and indignantly addressed the officers of a Polish regiment he met, and whose soldiers were not the least eager in the pillage, "When I commanded brave soldiers," exclaimed he, "they did not plunder; and I would have severely punished the subalterns who would have dared to commit the actions I now witness, and still more severely the officers who would authorise them by their blame- able indifference." "And who are you that speak with so much boldness?" was the question on every side. "I am Kosciusko!" At this name, the soldiers threw down their arms, supplicated him to pardon the fault they had just been guilty of, prostrating them- selves at his feet, and according to the custom of the nation, cov- ered their heads with dust. Kosciusko, unable to support the dis- mal spectacle that the country he loved next to his own presented at this epoch, quitted France, and, after travelling for some time in Italy, at last retired to Soleure in Switzerland. It is from thence we must date the last remarkable act of his life. 388 PULASKI. In 1817, in the presence of the magistrates, and registe) jy a public notary, he abolished slavery on his estate in Polai ie- claring free, and exempt from all charges and personal sej es, the ancient serfs of his lands. A deplorable accident a sho )me after, put an end to his glorious career. His- horse fell ader him, and a grievous wound, the consequence of this fall, occasioned his death a few days afterwards. The old and new world were afflicted by the news. His body was at first deposited in the church at Soleure ; but hi^ grateful country soon claimed the remains df her greatest son. The Polish ladies, with unanimous accord, put on deep mourning, and wore it as for a father. His ashes now repose in the metropolitan church of Cracow, between those of Sobieski and Poniatowski. A colossal monument will be raised to his memory, and the brave of every country have d terruption on the enemy, raked her hinder parts, and daniaged her mast in such amanner, that it was only supported from falling by the yards of our ship, while the tops poured in a continual dis- charge; the fire of the English began to deaden in such a manner as to bereave them of all hopes of success. A circumstance occurred, however, that contributed not a little to the victory of the Richard; this was the extraordinary intrepidi- ty and presence of mind of a Scotch sailor, posted in the main top: this brave fellow, of his own accord, seized a lighted match, and a basket of hand grenades, with which he advanced along the main-yard, until he had arrived exactly above the enemy's deck. As the flames of their parapets and shrouds, added to the light of the moon, enabled hirn to distinguish objects, the moment he perceived two or three persons assembled together, he instant- ly discharged a hand grenade among them; he had even address enough to drop several through their scuttles, and one of them set fire to the catridge of an eighteen pounder belonging to the lower deck, the discharge of which scorched several of the crew. JOHN PAUL JONES. 413 On this, the captain of the Serapis came upon the quarter-deck Howered hia flag, and asked for quarter, at the very moment his mainmast had fallen into the sea. lie then came on board with his officers, and presented me with his sword. While this was transacting, eight or ten men belonging to the Richard seized on the Serapis' shallop, which had been at anchor during the engage- ment, and made ofl". It was more than eleven o'clock when the battle ended; it had consequently lasted more than four hours. My ship had no more than 322 men, good, bad and indifferent, on board at the commence- ment of the engagement; and the sixty of these, posted in the gun room when the gun burst, having been of no farther service during the action, could not be properly considered as forming part of the crew opposed to the Serapis, which had received a supply of English sailors while in Denmark; and it appeared, indeed, by the muster roll, that there were upwards of four hundred on board of her, when the first gun was fired. Her superiority was still more considerable in respect to guns, without mentioning her greater weight in metal, which surpassed ours beyond all com- parison. Thus, setting aside the damage done by the Countess of Scarborough, during the fore-part of the action, and also by the three broadsides from the Alliance, it will be easy to form a due judgment of the combat between the Richard and the Serapis, and set a proper value on a victory obtained over a force so greatly superior, after such a long, bloody and close engagement. The Vengeance, a corvette, mounting twelve three pounder.?, and the boat belonging to the pilot, with my second lieutenant, another officer and ten men, would have been of singular service, either in pursuing and capturing the convoy, or by reinforcing me ; but strange as it may appear, the fact is, that they remained all this time mere spectators of the action, in which they toIMODORE IN THE AsiERICAN NaVY. "Jedediah Preble held the commission of brigadier-general under the colonial government of Massachusetts Bay. In the struggle for independence, he took a decided stand in opposition to the encroachments of the British crown, and during that con- test was for several years a member of the council and senate of that state. He died in the year 1783, aged seventy-seven, having been gratified by the Disposer of human events to live just long enough to see perfected the emancipation of this country from Eu- ropean thraldom, a blessing partly denied to Moses, who was only permitted to view the promised land at a distance, and then ex- pired. "This gentleman, in the year 1761, resided in a part of Fal- mouth, called the Casco bay, now Portland, in the province of Maine, where his son Edward, the subject of this memoir, was 432 EDWARD PREBLE. born on the 15th of August, in that year. In his infantile years, he discovered a persevering and bold temper. His form was ro- bust, his constitution strong, and invigorated by athletic sports. — His father placed him at Dunimer academy, Newbury, where he received the rudiments of a Latin and English education, under a Mr. Samuel Moody, a gentleman in high respect for his integrity and literary qualifications. "In contrariety to the wishes and expectations of his father, he, at an early period, manifested a predilection for the sea, and as he persisted in his inclination, his father at last deemed it proper to gratify him. Hence he left school at the dawn of the revolu- tion, and instead of entering a freshman at college, he entered a freshman on board a letter of marque, captain Friend, and made his first voyage in a trip to Europe. At the age of eighteen, he was a midshipman onboard the state ship Protector, of twenty -six guns, captain John Foster Williams, in 1779. On her first cruise he had to perform his part in a hard fought action with the English letter of marque, Duff, carrying thirty-six guns, off" Newfoundland, when the enemy at last blew up. Scarcely forty of the crew were saved. During his second cruise, the Protector was cap- tured, and her principal officers sent prisoners to England, with tile exception of Preble, who was released at New- York, through the influence of colonel William Tyng, his father's intimate friend. As soon as he had obtained his liberty, he returned home. "Mr. George Williams, the late first lieutenant of the Protector, having been appointed to command the sloop of war Winthrop, then fitting out at Boston, Mr. Preble entered as first lieutenant, and continued in her until the peace of 1783,- rendering many es- sential services in the line of his duty. His daring courage and presence of mind in the midst of danger, will be best illustrated by the following anecdote : "Captain Little, having the tender of an English armed brig, which lay in the harbor of Penobscot, was advised of certain cir- cumstances, Avhich induced him to attempt her capture by surprise. To accomplish this object, he run along side of the brig in the night, and had forty boarders dressed in white frocks, to distin- guish thera from the enemy. As he advanced, he was taken for EDWARD PREBLE. 433 the brig's tender, hailed, and directed to run aboard. Little's re- ply was, that he was coming aboard. "As Little came along side the brig, lieutenant Preble, and fourteen of the party appointed for the purpose, jumped on board ; but the rapidity of the vessel's passage prevented the remainder from following. Captain Little, finding the precariousness of Pre- ble's situation, hailed him, desiring to know if he would not have more men. His reply, indicative of great presence of mind, was, *no, we have more than wc want; we stand in each other's way. The brig being within pistol-shot of the shore, the chief part of the enemy on deck leaped overboard, and swam to land ,• who were followed by some who made their escape through the cabin win- dows. The officers were just rising as Preble entered their cabin ; he assured them that they were his prisoners, and that any resis- tance would be vain and fatal to them. The vessel of course was surrendered, as was supposed, to a superior force. Notwithstand- ing a brisk cannonade and a firing of musketry from a battery on shore, Preble beat his prize out of the hai'bor, and arrived at Bos- ton without injury. The knowledge of this gallant achievement .greatly enhanced his reputation as a naval officer. "From the peace of 1783, to the year 1798, he pursued with unblemished reputation, his professional career in the mercantile employment, with the varied success generally attendant on com- mercial enterprise. About this period, when there was every ap- pearance of immediate hostilities between the United States and France, congress determined to create a navy, and Mr. Preble was one of the five first lieutenants appointed for the naval estab- lishment, which has since shed so much lustre on the American character for nautical skill, daring courage, and chivalrous achieve- ment, "In the fall and winter of 1798 — 9, he was commander of the brig Pickering, in which he made two cruises; and in 1799, he was promoted to be captain, and had the command of the Essex frigate, of thirty-six guns. With this frigate, in company with the frigate Congress, captain Sever, he sailed for Batavia in Jan- uary, 1800, to convoy the American homeward bound vessels, trading in the Indian seas. The day after leaving port, the two frigates parted in a snow storm from the shipping under convoy, 434 EDWARD FEEBLE. outwardly bound. The Congress returned dismasted; the Essex proceeded, and after waiting for captain Sever some time at the Cape of Good Hope, he departed for Batavia. Before and after he arrived at the port, he made two cruises, of a fortnight duration each, in the Straits of Sunda. "In June he sailed homeward bound, with fourteen merchant- men, valued at several millions of dollars. From these he separ- ated off the Banks of Lagullos, in a severe squall ; but most of them rejoined him at St. Helena, from whence he convoj'ed then! out of danger. Off the Isle of France of Mauritius, he gave chase to a French corvette, which escaped in a calm by means of her sweeps. Toward the close of this year, captain Preble arrived at New-York. Ill health induced him afterward to resign- to captain Campbell the command of the frigate Adams, destined for the Mediterranean. Having somewhat recovered from his indisposition, he was, in May, 1803, appointed to the command of the frigate Constitution, lying at Boston, with orders to prepare her for sea. In June a squadron destined to act against Tripoli was entrusted to his direction. The naval force consisted of seven sail. The Constitution, forty-four guns ; Philadelphia, forty -four; Argus, brig, eighteen ; Syren, Nautilus, and Vixen, sixteen each; and Enterprise, fourteen. Every thing being ready, he set sail for the object of his destination, on the 13th of August. Having arrived at Gibraltar, where he was apprised of the unfavorable aspect of affairs between the United States and the emperor of Morocco, captain Bainbridge detained a Moorish cruiser, of twen- ty-two guns and one hundred men, called the Mirboka, which had sailed from Tangier on the 7th of the same month. On board of this vessel he found, among her papers, an unsigned order, author- ising her commander to cruise against the Americans. From that circumstance, as well as her having captured the American brig, Celia, captain Bowen, which was then in company, captain Bainbridge deemed the A!j|porish vessel to be good prize, and res- tored the Celia to her proper commander. "The last of May, captain Rodgers had detained the Mishouda, a Tripolitan vessel under Morocco colors. She had a passport from the American consul, with a reserve for blockaded ports. — She was taken attempting to go into Tripoli, which captain Rod- EDWARD PREBLE. 435 gers, in the John Adams, was known to be blockading. On board her were guns and other contraband articles not in her when she received her passport at Gibraltar; also twenty Tripoline subjects taken in at Algiers. The appearance was that she had been taken under the imperial flag for the purpose of being restored to our enemy. The emperor denied authorising the attempt of the Mis- houda, and said, if she was given up, the captain should be pun- ' ished. The governor, Hashash, on learning the capture of the Mirboka, at which time the emperor was absent, declared she acted without authority, and that war was not intended. At the same time her captain certified that this governor gave him his or- ders. Hashash was and continued to be, in the confidence of Mu- ley Soliman. ■''*^ "The next day after his arrival, commodore Preble wrote to the consul, Simpson, at Tangier, desiring him to assure the Moorish court that the United States wished peace with his majesty, if it could be had on proper terms — that he could not suppose the em- peror's subjects would dare to make war without his permission; but as their authority was disavowed by the governor, he should punish, as a pirate, every Moorish cruiser who should be found to have taken an American. Commodore Rodgers, on whom the command of the former squadron under Morris devolved, and who was under orders to return to the United States with the frigates New- York and John Adams, agreed to remain a few days on the station, and to join commodore Preble in Tangier bay, to assist in effecting an adjustment. "On the 17th, taking into his ship the principal Moorish officers of the two prizes, he appeared with the Constitution and John Ad- ams in Tangier bay, hoisting the white flag in token of peace, but having the men at their quarters. Mr. Simpson, however, was not permitted to come on board, nor to write, except on an open slip of paper, being confined to his house, with two sentinels at his door. Another act of hostility had been done at Mogadore, by an order to detain all American vessels, and the actual seizure of the brig Hannah, of Salem, Joseph M. Williams master. "The commodore determined to adopt a high tone, and vigorous measures. He observes, in his communications to the govern- ment, "that all the Barbary powers, except Algiers, appear to have 436 EDWARD PKEBLE. a disposition to quarrel with us, unless we tamely submit to any propositions they may choose to make. Their demands will in- crease, and be such as our government ought not to comply with. They send out their cruisers : if they prove successful, it is war, and we must purchase peace, suffering them to keep all they have taken — and if they are unfortunate, and we capture their cruisers before they have taken any thing valuable, it is not war, although the orders for capturing are found on board, and we must restore all." This he believed ought not to be suffered. Under these impressions, he did not hesitate to use his discretion, although specific instructions on this subject were not given, and to follow his own ideas on what expadiency and honor required ; taking a firm attitude towards the aggressor. This he would have done, and risked the consequences, if he had been backed by no other force than that of his own squadron. The co-operation of commo- dore Rodgers with the two frigates under his control, left no room for question. Our consul believed the emperor of Morocco had long meditated to make war, as soon as he could do it with a pros- pect of impunity. It was, therefore, essential to make him feel that the system of concession was abandoned. Accordingly the commodore gave orders to his squadron, to bring in for examina- tion, all vessels belonging to the emperor and his subjects ; des- patched three vessels to cruise off Mogadore, Salle, and Zarachi, and one off Tetuan, and entered the bay of Tangier at several times. — That the Tripolitans might not think they were forgotten, he despatched the Philadelphia and Vixen to lie before Tripoli. "The consul, Simpson, made representations to the emperor, before and after the arrival of commodore Preble. The answers received were general, but showed that if he had authorised war, he was now prepared to disavow it. "On the 5th of October, when his majesty was expected, the commodore anchored, with the Nautilus in company, in Tangier bay — the circular battery at the town one mile and a half distant. Here he remained, only changing his ground once to be nearer the town, until peace was concluded. He was joined in the afternoon of the 0th by the frigates New-York and John Adams, The ship was kept constantly cleared for action, and the men at quarters night and day. On the 6th, his majesty arrived with a great body EDWARD PHEBLE. 437 of troops, horse and foot, estimated at five thousand, who encamped on the beach opposite the squadron. The commodore was careful to order the ship dressed, and a salute of twenty-one guns, which was returned from the fort with an equal number, as was the sa- Jute of the other frigates in the morning following. A present of bullocks, sheep, and fowls, was ordered for the squadron, as a to- ken of the emperor's good will. "On the 8th, the emperor, with his court and a large body of troops, visited the batteries on the bay, for the purpose of viewing the United States' squadron, when the Constitution saluted agam with twenty-one guns; a compliment with which his majesty was very much gratified. The present arriving at the same time, it was acknowledged by three guns, according to the Moorish cus- tom. The following day the consul gave notice, that the emperor had given orders to the governor of Mogadore, for the release of the American brig detained in that place, and that Monday wag appointed for giving an audience to the commodore and consul. "On the day assigned, the 1 1th, the commodore, accompanied by colonel Lear, Mr. Morris, as a secretary, and two midshipmen, landed at Tangier, for the proposed audience. He believed there was no danger in landing; but he expressed his desire, that if ho should be forcibly detained, the commanding officer on board should not enter into a treaty for his release, but open a fire upon the town. They were ushered into the presence of the sovereign, through a double file of guards. The commodore at the entrance, was requested, according to Moorish custom in such cases, to la.y aside his side-arms. He said he must comply with the custom of his own country, and retain them, whi^h was allowed. On coming into the imperial presence, the epiperor expressed much sorrow that any difference had arisen, for he was at peace with the United States. He disavowed havi>ig given any hostile orders; said he would restore all Americ^^i vessels and property detained in con- sequence of any acts of his governors, and renew and confirm the treaty made with his ftther in 1786. The commodore and consuJ, on the part of the Uiited States, promised that the vessels and property of the en^eror should be restored, and the orders of cap- ture revoked. The commodore received a formal ratification of the treaty of 1786, and a letter of friendship and peace to the pre~ 38 438 EDWARD PREBLE. sident, signed by the emperor. Thus, by the happy union of pru- dence and energy, our affairs with this piratical despot were placed in a better condition than before the variance. "The commodore having nothing to fear from Morocco, was at liberty to direct his principal attention to Tripoli. The season, however, was too far advanced for active and permanent opera- tions against the enemy. Yet this officer did not indulge himself in repose, or suffer his forces to be idle. In cruising where they necessarily, at this time of the year, encountered a rough sea and tempestuous weather; in supplying convoy, and in maintaining the blockade at Tripoli, when practicable, the squadron was fully and arduously employed. The Philadelphia and Vixen had been ordered to the coast of Tripoli. The commodore now formally declared the blockade of that place, and sent notice of the fact to the ministers and consuls of the United States, to be communicated to the respective neutral powers. He found it expedient to go to Cadiz, in order to make up his complement of men, and procure a few supplies not to be obtained at that time at Gibraltar. He re- turned from Cadiz on the 6th of November, and after making a suitable disposal of his force, proceeded to Algiers, where he was to leave colonel Lear, the consul-general. On the 22d, he sailed from Algiers, for Syracuse ; and on his voyage was informed of the disastrous loss of the Philadelphia, captain William Bainbridge. The following is a brief account of that melancholy event: "On the 31st of October, after pursuing a Tripoline corsair till she came to seven fathoms water, in beating off she run on a rock not laid down on any chart, about four and a half miles from the town. Every exertion to gtt her off proved ineffectual. Mean- while, she was attacked by nu-rierous gun-boats, which she with- stood for four hours, whilst the caiqening of the ship made the guns totally useless. A reinforcement -rooming off, and no possible means of resisting them appearing, thb captain submitted to the horrid necessity of striking to his barbarous enemy. In forty- eight hours, the wind blowing in shore, theTripolitans were able to get off the frigate, and having raised her g;uns, towed her into the harbor. The commodore apprehended the worst from this diminution of his force ; a war with Tunis, and perhaps with Al- giers ; at least a protraction of the present war. He was, however, EDWARD PSEBLE. 439 induced to hope that government would repair this loss by another frigate in the Spring, and would also furnish him with more small vessels or gun-boats. "On the 14th of December, he sailed with the Enterprise, on a winter cruise, amidst boisterous weather; for many days it blew a gale. On the morning of the 23d, the Enterprise captured a ketch in sight of Tripoli. She was under Turkish colors, and naviga- ted by Turks and Greeks, but had on board two Tripolitan officers of distinction, a son of one of the officers, a number of Tripoline soldiers, and forty or more blacks, men and women, slaves belong- ing to the bashaw and his subjects. He at first determined to re lease the vessel and men claimed by the Turkish captain, and retain the Tripolines, about sixty in number, as prisoners; hoping they would aftbrd an advantage in negotiation, and perhaps be ex- changed for some of our countrymen. But before his determina- tion was executed, he ascertained that the captain had been active in taking the Philadelphia. Having received on board this very vessel one hundred Tripolitans, armed with swords and muskets, and substituted the colors of the enemy for his own, he assaulted £he frigate, and when she was boarded, plundered the officers. — He had, therefore, no hesitation in retaining the vessel. As she was not in a condition to be sent to the United States, he transmit- ted her papers to government, and some time after had her ap- praised, and took her into the service as the ketch Intrepid. "February the 3d, 1804, lieutenant Stephen Decatur, with sev- enty volunteers in the Intrepid, and accompanied by the Syren, sailed for Tripoli, with a view to destroy the frigate Philadelphia. On the 16th, the service was accomplished in the most gallant manner. Lieutenant Decatur entered the harbor of Tripoli in the night, and laying his vessel alongside the frigate, boarded and carried her against all opposition. The assailants then set fire to her and left her. She was soon in a complete blaze, and was to- tally consumed. "From this time to the bombardment of Tripoli, the commodore was occupied in keeping up the blockade of the harbor, and in making preparations for an attack. He took the utmost pains to convey supplies and information to captain Bainbridge and his officers and men ; and after a time, by means of the good offices of 440 EDWARD PREBLE . Sir Alexander Ball, succeeded. He tried several times to nego- tiate for a ransom and treaty; but the demands of the regency were sometimes ridiculously extravagant, and when lowest, beyond what he thought himself permitted to accede to. The designs of warfare he had entertained were checked by a solicitude for the release of his countrymen; though he may by some persons, per- haps, be thought to have indulged too far his aversion to the pay- ment of a considerable ransom. He found himself able to make their situation as comfortable as the nature of it would admit; and he believed that the infliction of suffering and terror, when the time should come, upon the enemy, would not produce any long continued aggravation of the evils of their condition, whilst it would essentially serve his country. Indeed, after the destruc- tion of the Philadelphia, the bashaw at first affected to avenge him- self by a severe treatment of the captives; but this was not per- sisted in. "•When the first consul of France, in March, at the instance of Mr. Livingston, directed his commissary at this regency to medi- ate for their release, Mr. Beaussier undertook the office, and an" nounced to the commodore that one hundred and fifty thousand dollars, with some usual gratuities, would probably effect the ob- ject, and that perhaps a cartel for the exchange of prisoners might be negotiated, which would reduce the sum. The commodore did not think himself authorised to agree to these terms, and never would go beyond eighty thousand ; not that the amount was impor- tant, except on principle, and as it might affect our relations with the other Barbary powers. From first to last, it was a point of honor with the bashaw, not to give up the American captives for a less sum than had been usually received from most of the powers of Europe in similar cases. But he was glad at last to accept of sixty thousand dollars, satisfied, no doubt, that our naval armament would be coeval at least with his hostility. "On the 1st of April, the commodore went to display his force at Tunis, where he found a Tripoline polaci-e dismantled, having been blockaded for sixteen days by captain Decatur. The bey of Tunis, had for some time been uneasy at his treaty with the United States, and insisted that the commodore should land and satisfy him for some property alleged to be unlawfully seized by the EDWARD PREBLE. 441 former squadron. The commodore made answer, that it was not his business, and that he must put to sea. He found it necessary to watch Tunis during the whole of his command. In the spring he took another prize, a TripoUne; and upon the presumption of her being condemned, she was estimated, equipped, put in commis- sion, and called the Scourge. "Finding that the expected force did not arrive from the United States, our officers resolved to endeavor to make some use of the friendship of Naples. Although he was without diplomatic author- ity, the minister, general Acton, from personal regard and good will to the service, favored his application to the king, and the com- modore obtained, as a friendly loan to the United States, six gun- boats and two bomb vessels, completely fitted for service, also lib- erty to ship twelve or fifteen Neapolitans to serve under our flag in each boat. "With this addition to his armament, on the 21st of July, he joined the detachment off Tripoli, where his force consisted of the Constitution, forty-four guns, the brigs Argus and Syren, eighteen guns each, the Scourge, , the schooners Vixen and Nautilus, si.xteen guns each, and the Enterprise, fourteen guns. "The enemy had on his castle and several batteries, one hun- dred and fifteen guns; fifty-five of which were heavy battering brass cannon, the others long eighteen and twelve pounders ; nineteen gun-boats, with each a lon^ brass eighteen or twenty- four pounder in the bow, and two howitzers abaft. He had two schooners of eighteen guns ^ach, a brig of ten, and two galleys, having each four guns. Txi addition to the ordinary Turkish gar- rison stationed upon tl-^ fortifications, and the crews of the boats and armed vessels, oomputed at about three thousand, the bashaw had called in to-'^e defence of the city more than twenty thousand Arabs. On the -id of August, the squadron was, at noon, within two or three miles of their batteries. The commodore, observing that several of the enemy's boats had taken a station without the reef of rocks which covers the entrance of the harbor, about two miles from its bottom, resolved to take advantage of this circumstance, and made signal for the squadron to come within speaking dis- tance, when he communicated to the several commanders his in- 38* 442 EDWARD PREBLE. tention of attacking the shipping and batteries. The gun and mortar boats were immediately manned and prepared to cast off. At half past one o'clock, the squadron stood for the batteries; at two, cast off the gun-boats; at half past two, signal for. the bombs and boats to advance and attack; and in fifteen minutes after, sig- nal was given for general action. It was commenced by the bombs throwing shells into the town. In an instant the enemy's line opened a tremendous fire from not less than two hundred guns, which was promptly returned by the whole squadron, now within musket shot of the principal batteries. "At this moment captain Decatur, with three gun-boats, attacked the enemy's eastern division, consisting of nine. He was soon in the centre of them; and the fire of grape, langrage, and mus- quetry, was changed to a deadly personal combat with the bayo- net, spear, sabre, and tomahawk. It would be impossible, in our limits^ to enter into a detail of the gallant exploits of our country- men upon this trying occasion. The Turks fought with despera- tion ; Decatur took two of their boats, in which were thirty-three officers and men killed, and twenty-seven made prisoners, of whom nineteen were severely wounded. "Lieutenant Trippe boarded one of the large boats, with only a midshipman, Mr. Jonathan Henley, and nine men. His boat falling off before any more could join him, he was left to conquer or to perish, with the fearful to-operate with Decatur. But he bore down upon the leeward division of the enemy, and with hissingle boat, within pistol-shot, aitackcd five full manned boats, defeated and drove them, in a EDWARD PREBLE. 443 shattered condition, and with the loss of many lives, under shel- ter of the rocks. "The two bomb-vessels kept their station, although often cov- ered with the spray of the sea, occasioned by the enemy's shot. — They kept up a constant fire, and threw a great number of shells into the town. Five of the enemy's gun-boats and two galleys, composing their centre division, stationed within the rock, joined by the boats which had been driven in, and reinforced* twice at^ tempted to row out and surround our gun-boats and prizes. Thev were as often foiled by the vigilance of the commodore, who gave signal to the brigs and schooners to cover them, which was prompt- ly attended to by those vessels, all of which was gallantly con- ducted, and annoyed the enemy exceedingly. The fire of the Constitution had its ample share in this bombardment. It kept the flotilla in constant disorder, and produced no inconsiderable cftect on shore. "At half past four, the wind inclining to the northward, and at the same tiftie the enemy's flotilla having retreated behind coverts which shielded them from our shot, while our people were neces- sarily much exhausted by two hours and a half severe exertion, signal was given for the gun-boats and bombs to retire from action ; and immediately after for the brigs and schooners to take the gun- boats and their prizes in tow, ^vhich was handsomely executed, the whole covered by a heavy fire from the Constitution. In fif- teen minutes the whole squadron was out of reach of the enemy's shot, and the commodore hauled off to give tow to the bomb-ketches. "On board the frigate not a man was killed. The other vessels and boats suffered in their riggings, and had sundry men wounded, but lost none, except lieutenant Decatur, the brother of the cap- tain Decatur, so conspicuous in this war. ■ Several circumstances explain this impunity of our squadron. Where the engagement was close, as with the boats, the impetuosity of the attack, as well as our most dexterous use of the weapons of destruction, over- powered and appalled the enemy. The Barbarians are unskilful gunners. The shower of grape-shot annoyed and discomposed them, in the application of what little skill they possessed. "Very different was the result of this conflict to the enemy. — The American fire was not an empty peal, but a messenger of 444 EDWARD PREBLE, death in every direction. The three captured boats had one hun- dred and three men on board; forty-seven of whom were killed^ twenty-sLx wounded, and thirty only remained fit for duty. Three other boats were sunk with their entire crews, and the decks of their vessels in the harbor were swept of numbers. Many guns of the forts were dismounted,andthe town was considerably dam- aged. "This action on Tripoli displayed in an eminent degree, the penetration and energy of the commodore, and his power of in- fusing his own spirit of heroism into his officers and men. This achievement, as might be expected, made a powerful impression on the mind of the enemy. The burning of the Philadelphia could not fail to make the bashaw and his people, apprehend some- thing serious, from the present commander. When the squadron was seen standing in, however, he affected contempt, and survey- ing them from his palace, observed, "They will mark their dis- tance for tacking; they area sort of Jews, who have no notion of fighting." The palace and terraces of the houses were covered with spectators, to see the chastisement the bashaw's boats would give the squadron, if they approached too near. This exultation was very transient; for the battle was scarcely joined, when no one was seen on shore,. except on the batteries. An intelligent officer of the Philadelphia, then, in captivity, observed that the Turks asked if those men that fought so were Americans, or in- fernals in Christian shape, sent to destroy the sons of the Pro- phet! "On the 5th of August, the commodore prevailed on a French privateer, which had left Tripoli that morning, to return with four- teen wounded Tripolines, whose wounds had been carefully dressed, and whom the commodore sent with a letter to the ba- shaw's minister. These prisoners, it is said, informed the prince that the Americans in battle were fiercer than lions ; but in the treatment of their captives, were even more kind than Mussul- men. On the 7th, the privateer returned with a letter from the French consul, signifying that the bashaw had very much low- ered his tone, and would probably treat on reasonable terms. But nothing satisfactory being proposed by the enemy, and the terms intimated being higher than the commander was authorised to EDWARD PREBLE. 445 make, ho prepared for a second attack. At half past two the as- sault was made. Within two hours, six of the seven ouns were silenced. Forty-eight shells, and about five hundred round shot, twenty-four pounders, were thrown into the town and batteries, when, between five and six, P. M., the squadron retired from ac- tion. During the engagement, the enemy's gun-boats and gal- leys mancEuvred to gain a position to cut off" the retreat of ours; but the larger vessels were so arranged as to defeat their design. The loss this day, was twenty-two killed and six wounded, two of them mortally. "At eight in the evening, the John Adams, captain Chauncey, joined the squadron. By him the commodore had the first official notice that four frigates were on their passage to reinforce his de- tachment. At the same time, also, he learned that, by the ap- pointment of a senior officer to one of the frigates, he would be superseded in the command. The government were highly satis- fied with the commodore, but they had not a sufficient number of captains, junior to Preble, to supply all the frigates sent out; and they did not think the saving of his feelings would justify the cre- ation of any others. Had they, however, known or anticipated his brilliant success at this time, they would probably have ven- tured upon the promotion of one or two of the gallant lieutenants in the Mediterranean, in order to keep the commodore in the chief command. "As the frigates were to sail four days after the John Adams, farther operations were suspended, in expectation of their arrival . No assistance could be received from this frigate, as her guns had been stowed by the kelson, and their carriages put away into the other frigates to make room for her cargo, she being sent out as a transport. "On the 9th, commodore Preble, in the brig Argus, reconnoitred the harbor. The next day a flag of truce was seen flying on the castle. The commodore sent a boat on shore, which was not per- mitted to land, but returned with a letter from the French consul, advising the commodore that the bashaw would accept five hun- dred dollars each for the ransom of the prisoners, and terminate the war without any consideration or annuity for peace. "The amount of the demand was about one hundred and fifty 446 EDWARD PREBLE. thousand dollars, which the commodore rejected; but for the sake of the captives, and to save the further effusion of blood, offered eighty thousand, and ten thousand for presents. After beginning to treat with the French commissary-general, the bashaw sus- pended the negotiation, saying he would wait the result of another attack. On the night of the 23d, the bomb-vessels, under protec- tion of the gun-boats, were sent in to bombard the town. The bombardment commenced at two, A. M. and continued till day- ^ light, but without much effect. "On the 27th, the weather proving favorable, the commodore i stood in for Tripoli, and anchored his ship two miles N. by E. from, fort English; the light vessels keeping under way. A number of his officers and many of the seamen being employed in the boatSy captain Chauncey, with several of his officers and about sevejity , seamen, volunteered their services on board the Constitution. "The gun-boats, accompanied by the Syren, Ai^i!lt> Vixen, Nau- tilus, Enterprise, and boats of the squadron, anchored at three in the morning, within pistol-shot of the enemy's lines, with springs- on their cables, and commenced a brisk firing on their shipping, town, batteries and castle, which was warmly returned. The ship's boats remained with the gun-boats, to assist in boarding the flotilla, in case it should come out, and the brigs and schooners were kept under way to harass the enemy, or to assist the gun- boats. At day-light, apprehensive that the ammunition in the gun-boats must be nearly exhausted, the commodore weighed an- chor, and made signal for the gun-boats to retire from action. When arrived within a sure distance, he opened his battery with round and grape shot, upon thirteen gun-boats and galleys, which were closely engaged with ours, sunk one of them, disabled two. and put the rest to flight. He continued running in, until within musket-shot of the batteries, when he hove too, fired three hun- dred round shot, besides grape and cannister, into the bashaw's castle, the town, and batteries. He silenced the castle and two of the batteries, and a little after six, hauled off. The gun-boats fired four hundred round shot, besides grape and cannister, with evident effect. "The French commissary now renewed the negotiation for peace ; but it was broken off, in consequence, as he thought, of EDWARD PREBLE. 447 one of the squadron approaching the harbor as a cartel ; which he said was interpreted by the ignorant and mistrustful bashaw, as a proof of discouragement on the part of the invader. "On the 3d of September, the bomb-ketches being repaired, as well as the damages sustained by the other vessels in the action of the 27th, the squadron was again ready, and disposed for an- other attack on the town and batteries. Between three and four o'clock the action commenced, and soon became general. But the wind veering to the northward, and beginning to blow fresh, at half past four, P. M. he gave the signal to retire from action, under cover of the Constitution. In this engagement, although the fri- gate and vessels were much damaged, not a man was lost. The bomb-vessel commanded by lieutenant Robinson, had all her shrouds shot away, and was so shattered in the hull as to be kept above the water with difficulty. The Argus received a thirty-two pound shot in her hull, which cut away a bower cable as it en- tered, and which so checked its velocity, that it fell upon deck without doing injury. The commodore had for some time contemplated sending a fire- ship into the harbor to destroy the flotilla, and, at the same time, throw a quantity of shells into the town. Captain Somers volun- teered in this service, and with the assistance of lieutenants Wads- worth and Israel, fitted out the ketch Intrepid for this expedition. A hundred bai-rels of gunpowder, and one hundred and fifly fixed shells, were placed m the hold, with fuzes and combustibles so applied as to fire them without endangering the retreat of the adventurers. On the evening of the 4th of September, captain Somers chose two fast rowing boats from the squadron, to bring off the people after having fired the vessel. His own boat was manned by four seamen from the Nautilus, with lieutenant Wads- worth and six men from the Constitution. At eight they parted from the squadron and stood into the harbor, convoyed by the Ar- gus, Vixen, and Nautilus, to within a short distance of the batteries. Having gained the inner harbor, and got near to the point of des- tination, she was boarded and carried by twe galleys of one hun- dred men each. At this moment she exploded. The effect was awful. Every battery was silent, and not a gun was fired afler- ward during the night. Captain Somers is said to have declared 446 THOMAS TRUXTUN. to a frieod, that in case he should be boarded he would not suffer the enemy to capture him. There is every reason to believe that, on the enemy proving successful, the captain seized a quick match and touched a train, which communicated instant fire to the mine, by which he and his companions found, with the enemy, a com- mon death. "Nothing occurred after this, till the two squadrons joined on the 9th of September. Here ended Mr. Preble's command, so honorable to himself, and, in both its immediate and distant con- sequences, important to his country. All joined in the suffrage to the distinguished merits of the commodore. His holiness, the Pope, is said to have remarked, that he had done more toward humbling the anti-christian barbarians on that coast, than all the christian states had ever done. Sir Alexander Ball, in a letter of September 20tb, said, 'I beg to repeat my congratulation on the service you have rendered your country, and the hair-breadth escapes you have had in setting a distinguished example. Their bravery and enterprise are worthy a great and rising nation. If I were to offer my opinion, it would be, that you have done weli not to purchase a peace with the enemy. A few brave men have indeed been sacrificed; but they could not have fallen in a better cause; and I even conceive it advisable to risk more lives, rather than submit to terms which might encourage the Barbary states to add fresh demands and insults.' "In the latter part of the year 1806, the health of Mr. Preble began to decline. Finding that the inveteracy of his malady bid defiance to medical skill, he resolved on a water excursion as a last experiment; but it resulted in no beneficial effect. He died on Tuesday the 25th of August, 1807, in the 46th year of his age. On the day of his funeral, business was suspended, the colors were displayed at half-mast from the shipping in the harbor, and he was interred with military honors, and the ceremonies of religion." — Rogers'' American Biography. THOMAS TRUXTUN, Commodore in the American Navy. "The father of captain Truxtun was an eminent counsellor of the bar, in the then colony of New- York, and resided on Loiig or THOMAS TRUXTUN. 449 Nassau Island, where the commodore was born on the 17th Feb- ruary, 1755. Having lost his father at an early age, he was placed under the care of John Troup, Esq. of Jamaica, Long Island; a gentleman well known in the annals of the war between France and England preceding the American revolution. The sea was his favorite element. At twelve years of age he embarked in his naval career, under captain Joseph Holmes, in the ship Pitt, bound for Bristol, England. The next year he sailed under a captain Chambers, in the London trade. While yet in his novitiate, he was impressed on board of an English ship of war of sixty-four guns; from which ship he was afterwards released, through the influence of some friends in power. The commander, however, used every persuasion to induce him to remain in the service of the crown, assuring him that every exertion should be used for his speedy promotion, but without effect, as he immediately returned to the ship and service from which he had been impressed. "In the beginning of the revolutionary struggle, he forthwith embarked in the cause of the colonies, against the unjust oppres- sion of Great Britain, and early in 1776, had the command of an armed vessel, with which he cruised against the enemy with great success. The United States were much benefitted by the quan- tities of powder found on board his prizes, of which article they were greatly in want. Toward the close of the same year, when on a voyage to St. Eustatia, a Dutch island in the West Indies, in a letter of marque, of which he was half owner, he was captured, his vessel condemned, and himself released. His next cruise was in the capacity of first lieutenant of the private armed ship Con- gress. During the early part of the winter of 1776, this vessel, in company with another private armed vessel called the Chance, made several prizes oflf the Havanna, which were very valuable home-bound Jamaica ships. In June of the same year, while the harbor of New-York was blockaded by the British fleet, he made his way to sea, through the Long Island Sound, in a vessel called the Independence. Oflf the Azores, he made several prizes, of which three were large and valuable ships, forming a part of the Windward Island fleet, under convoy. One of these prizes carried more men and guns than his vessel : the proud Englishmen, not- withstanding their vaunted natural prowess, were obliged to strike 39 450 THOMAS TRUXTUN. their colors to an inferior force. Truxtun next directed his Course f.0 the British channel, in the ship Mars, of twenty guns, where he made a number of prizes, several of which he sent into Quib- eron bay, in France. Truxtun, after this cruise, domiciliated himself in Philadelphia, from which port he sailed during the re- mainder of the war, commanding vessels, of which he was usually part owner. His cruises Avere generally successful. "When commanding the St. James, of twenty guns and one hundred men, on a voyage to France with Thomas Barclay, Esq. the consul-general from the revolted colonies to that country, a passenger onboard, he fell in with a British private ship of war, mounting thirty -two guns, and a proportionate number of men, con- sequently nearly double his force. After a severe and close en- gagement, the enemy was obliged to sheer off, and was afterward towed into New-York in a very crippled state. The late Secreta- ry of the navy, William Jones, Esq. acted as captain Truxtim's third lieutenant, and conducted himself during the whole engage- ment, with .such distinguished bravery, that he was shortly alter promoted to a first lieutenancy. In this vessel Truxtun returned safe to Philadelphia with a most valuable cargo. He used every means in his power to harass the enemy on the ocean during every period of the war, and constantly evinced the most consummate skill and undaunted courage; and his exertions were almost uni- versally crowned with complete success. He likewise, in two instances, distinguished himself on land. "On the return of peace, he continued his professional pursuits between tJiis country, Europe and Asia, until 1794, when the low- ering appearance of our affairs with Great Britain, in consequence of the conduct of her naval commanders, under the celebrated Corn Order of Council, in 1793, induced the establishment of a navy, which they could then do, without infracting the treaty of peace, which prohibited them from such an attempt for twelve years. The term of prohibition had just expired. General Wash- ington, then i)resident, by advice and consent of the senate, ap- pointed him captain of one of the six ships of war which had been M-dered to be built. But the building of these vessels was sus- .pendedin consequence of the treaty of 1795. On the abrogation ;Qf.the consular convention with France,, in the year 1798, during THOMAS TRUXTUN. 451 the administration of Mr. John Adams, captain Truxtun was di- rected to superintend the building of the frigate Constellation, at Baltimore, of which he was appointed commander. This vessel was one of the first which put to sea in consequence of the hos- tile attitude assumed by the United States towards the French Re- public. His orders were to cruise in the West India seas for the protection of American property. The 9th of February, 1799, he fell in with the French frigate L'Insurgente, captain Barreau, off the island of St. Nevis. With this vessel he commenced a se- vere engagement, which lasted for an hour and a quarter, when the Frenchman struck ; but not until his ship had become a mere wreck. The Constellation, mounting thirty -six guns, and a pro- portionate crew, lost, in this engagement, only one man killed and two wounded, while the loss on board the Insurgente, mounting forty -four guns, with four hundred and seventy men, was twenty killed and forty -four wounded. With his prize he put into Bassa Terre, St. Christopher's, where he refitted and returned to Amer- ica. This was the first action which had taken place since the commencement of the disturbance between the United States and France. The fame of the achievement was blazoned abroad, both in Europe and America, and produced the commodore the most flattering marks of distinction. The merchants at Lloyd's coffee-house, London, sent him a present of a service of silver plate, with a suitable device, valued at upwards of six hundred guineas. The captive commander, in a letter to the commodore, while he lamented the unhappy posture of affairs between the two countries, e-xpressed himself as being well pleased that the chance of war had thrown him into such gallant and brave hands, and thanked the commodore for his generous conduct towards him- self and his crew. "During his cruise he captured many private armed and other vessels, and completely cleared those seas of the French cruisers, by which so many depredations had been committed on the Amer- ican and English commerce in that quarter. "While our other vessels of war were busily engaged in con- voying the American commerce, the commodore (a title acquired by courtesy, as the laws of the United States know of no such offi- cer) heard in January, 1800, that the French ship of war La Ven- 452 THOMAS TRUXTUN. geance, mounting fifty-four guns, with a complement of five hun- dred men, was lying at Gaudaloupe with troops and several gen- eral officers on board, intending to put to sea. He immediately changed his cruising ground, and endeavored to fail in with her^ and if possible, to bring her to action. The superiority of her force was, in a great measure, counterbalanced by a complement of too many men, and a number of troops. "On the first of February, his wishes were gratified, as he des- cried her on the morning of that day, and after twelve hours chase brought her to action. In consequence of having too many troops, and a great number of oflScers on board, the French commander was unwilling to risk a combat, but the intentions of his gallant antagonist were very different. An engagement took place, and after a close action of nearly five hours, the Frenchman was si- lenced. During a squall, while the Americans were busily en- gaged in clearing their ship, the French captain effected his es- cape. "This he was enabled to do by the darkness of the night, al- though, prior to this circumstance, he had struck his colors, as he afterward acknowledged, but was induced to renew the contest, believing it to be the intention of his antagonist to sink him. The Vengeance now arrived at Curacoa in a very shattered condition? having lost in the engagement one hundred killed and wounded, and all her masts and rigging nearly shot away. Congress, on this occasion, voted Truxtun an emblematic medal, for his gallan- try and good conduct. "After Mr. Jefferson entered on the duties of the presidential office, the commodore was ordered to the Mediterranean. From some cause or other he declined the service, and his resignation was accepted, and another officer succeeded him. Considering his resignation as temporary, he some time afterward wished to resume his naval command, but was informed, that as his resigna- tion had been final, his wishes could not be gratified. He retired to Philadelphia to enjoy the pleasing scenes of domestic life, until 1816, when the citizens of the city and county of Philadelphia evinced their respect for his various services, by electing him to fill the important office of sherifl', the duties of which he discharged with general satisfaction ."-s».i4wi€rica« Biographical Dictionary. PART IV. BIOGRAPHY OF EMINENT AMERICAN STATESMEN OF THE REVOLUTION. BENJAMIN FRANKLIN. Benjamin Franklin, was born at Boston, on the 17th of Jan- uary, 1706. His ancestors were from the county of Northampton, in England, where they had for many generations possessed a freehold estate, near the village of Eaton. During the persecu- tions in the reign of Charles IL against the puritans, the father of Benjamin, who was of the persuasion, emigrated to America, and settling in Boston, had recourse for a livelihood to the business of a chandler and soap boiler. His mother's name was Folger. She was a native of Boston, and belonged to a respectable family. At an early age young Franklin discovered, as his parents thought, a more than ordinary genius ; and they resolved to give him an education, with reference to the profession of a clergyman. Accordingly he was placed at a grammar school, where he soon attained the reputation of a lad of industrious habits, and respect- able genius. His parents, however, at the expiration of a year, found that their slender revenues would not admit of the expense of col- legiate instruction. He was, therefore, soon after taken home to prosecute the business of his father. In this occupation he was employed for two years, but it was ill adapted to his constitution, and he felt unwilling to continue cutting wicks for candles, filling moulds, and running of errands. He became uneasy, and at length resolved to embark on a seafaring life. To such a propo- sition, however, his parents strongly objected, as they had already lost a son at sea. He was permitted, however, to change his busi- ness, and allowed to choose an occupation which was more conge- nial to his inclinations. His fondness for books had, from an early age, been singularly great. He read every thing within his rQp.ch. His father's library was itself scanty, being confined to a few such works as Defoe's 39* 454 BENJAMIN FRANKLIN. Essay upon Projects, Mather's Essay on Doing Good, and the lives of Plutarch. These he perused with great attention, and they ap- pear to have exercised a favorable influence on his mind. His love of books was frequently noticed by his father, who, at length, proposed to bind him as an apprentice to an elder brother, who was at that time a printer of a newspaper in Boston. He was ac- cordingly thus situated, in the year 1717, when he was scarcely twelve years of age. He soon became a proficient in the mechan- ical part of the business, and seized every opportunity for reading books that he could borrow from his acquaintances, in which em- ployment he spent the greater part of his nights. He soon began to indulge himself in writing ballads and other poetical pieces ; but* it is said, that his father speedily satisfied him that this was not the species of composition in which he could excel. His next eftbrts were directed to prose compositions, in which his success is well known and duly appreciated. With a passion for reading and writing, he imbibed a kindred one for disputation; and adopting the Socratic method, he became dexterous in confusing and con- founding an antagonist, by a series of questions. This course gave him a sceptical turn with regard to religion, and while he was young he took every opportunity of propagating his tenets, and with the ordinary zeal of a new convert. He was, however^ soon convinced, by the effect produced on some of his companions, that it was extremely dangerous to loosen the ties of religion, with- out the probability of substituting other principles, equally effica- cious. The doubts which subsisted in his own mind, he was never able to remove; but he was not deficient in fortifying himself with such moral principles as directed him to the most valuable ends, by honorable means. By habits of self-denial, early formed, he ob- tained a complete dominion over his appetite, so that at the age of sixteen, he readily discarded animal food, from the conviction pro- duced in his mind by perusing a work on the subject, that he should enjoy a more vigorous state of health without it. He now offered his brother to maintain himself, for half the sum paid for his board ; and even v.iththis he was able to make savings to purchase what books he wanted. In his brother he found a harsh master, and Benjamin felt indignant at the treatment which he experienced firora him in tho way of business. His brother had established a BENJAMIN FKANKLIA-. 4 55 newspaper, in which the apprentice contrived to insert some papers and essays anonymously. These were read and highly commen- ded by the people of the best judgment and taste in the town, — The young man now began to feel his importance, which was still more impressed on him by having the paper established in his own name, that of his brother, for some political offence, having been interdicted by the state. On the release of his brother, who had for some time been im- prisoned for the above political offence, Franklin was treated by him with so much severity, that at length he determined to leave him. His indentures having before this been cancelled, he secretly went on board of a vessel, bound to New-York, in which he took passage for that city. After a few days spent in New-York, hav- ing sought in vain to procure business, he proceeded on foot to Philadelphia, where he at length arrived, fatigued and destitute of ail means of support. He was butseventeen years of age, at the distance of four hundred miles from home, nearly pennyless, with- out employment, without a counsellor, and unacquainted with a single person in the city. The day following his arrival, he wandered through the streets of Philadelphia, with an appearance little short of a beggar. — His pockets were distended by his clothes, M'hich were crowded into them ; and provided with a roll of bread under each arm, he proceeded through the principal streets in the city. His uncouth appearance attracted the notice of several of the citizens, and among others of a Miss Reed, vvho afterwards became his wife, and by whom, as he passed along, he was thought to present a very awkward and ridiculous appearance. There were at this time but two printing offices in Philadelphia. Fortunately, in one of these he found employment as a composi- tor. His conduct was very becoming ; he was attentive to business, and economical in his expenses. His fidelity not only commended him to his master, but was noticed by several respectable citizens, who promised him their patronage and support. Among others who took much notice of him, was Sir William Keith, at that time governor of the province. The governor hav- ing become acquainted with the history of his recent adventures, professed a deep interest in his wellfare, and at length proposed 456 BENJAMIN FKANKLIN. that he should commence business on his own account; at the same time promising to aid him with his influence and that of his friends, and to give him the printing of the government. Moreover, the governor urged him to return to Boston, to soUcit the assist- ance and concurrence of his father. At the same time, he gave him a letter to that gentleman, replete with assurances of affection, and promises of support to the son. With this object in view, he sailed for Boston, and at length, ' after an absence of several months, he again entered his father's house. He was affectionately received by the family. To his father he communicated the letter of governor Keith, which ex- plained the object of his return. His father, however, judiciously advised him, on account of youth and inexperience, to relinquish the project of setting up a printing office,, and wrote to this effect to his patron, governor Keith. Having determined to follow the advice of his father, he returned to Philadelphia, and again enter- ing the employment of his former master, pursued his business with his usual assiduous attention. Governor Keith, on learning the advice and decision of Frank- lin's father, offered himself to furnish the necessary materials for a printing establishment, and proposed to Franklin to make a voy- age to England to procure them. This proposal Franklin readily accepted, and with gratitude to his generous benefactor, he sailed for England in 1725, accompanied by his friend Ralph, one of his literary associates in Philadelphia. Before his departure, he exchanged promises of fidelity with Miss Reed, of Philadelphia, with whose father he had lodged. Upon his arrival in London, Mr. Franklin found that governor Keith, upon whose letters of credit and recommendation he relied, had entirely deceived him. He was now obliged to work as a journeyman printer, and obtained employment in an office in Bar- tholomew-close. His friend Ralph did not so readily find the means of subsistence, and was a constant drain upon the earnings of Franklin . In that great city, the morals of the young travellers were not much improved; Ralph forgot, or acted as if he had for- gotten, that he had a wife and child across the Atlantic ;^ and Frank- lin was equally forgetful of his promises and engagements to Miss Reed. About this period he published, "A Dissertation on Liberty BENJAMIN FRANKLIN. 457 and Necessity, Pleasure and Pain," dedicated to Ralph, and inten- ded as an answer to WoUaston's "Religion of Nature." This piece gained for him some degree of reputation, and introduced him to the acquaintance of Dr. Meadville, author of the "Fable of the Bees," and some other literary characters. Franklin was always temperate and industrious, and his habits in this respect were eventually the means of securing his morals as well as of raising his fortune. In the interesting account which he has left of his own life, is a narrative of the method which he took in re- forming the sottish habits of his fellow workmen in the second printing office in which he was engaged in London, and which was situated in the neighborhood of Lincoln's-inn-fields. He tried to persuade them that there was more real sustenance in a penny roll, than in a pint of porter; at first, the plan of economy which he proposed was treated with contempt or ridicule ; but in the end he was able to induce several of them to substitute a warm and nourishing breakfast, in the place of stimulating liquors. Having resided about a year and a half in London, he concerted a scheme with an acquaintance, to make the tour of Europe; but falling in with a mercantile friend, he was induced to abandon the project, and enter into the service of his friend in the capacity of a clerk. In July, 1726, they set sail for Philadelphia, where they arrived on the 11th of October. The prospects of Franklin were now brighter. He was pleased with his new profession, and by his assiduous attention to busi- ness, gained the confidence of his employer so much, that he was about to be commissioned as supercargo to the West Indies, when of a sudden his patron died; by which his fair prospects were blighted, and he was once more thrown out of employment. He had, however, one recourse, and that was, a return to the business of printing, in the service of his former master. Having become superintendant of the printing office where he worked, and finding himself able to manage the concern 'with some skill and profit, he resolved to embark in business for himself. He entered into partnership with a fellow workman named Meredith, whose friends were enabled to furnish money for the concern. — His habitual industry and undeviating punctuality, obtained him the notice and business of the principal people of the place. 458 BENJAMIN FRANKLIN. lie instituted a club, under the name of "the Junto," for the purpose of the discussion of poHtical and philosophical questions, ■which proved an excellent school for the mutual improvement of its several members. The test proposed to every candidate before his admission, was this: "Do you sincerely declare that you love mankind in general, of what profession or religion soever? Do you think any person ought to be harmed in his body, name, or goods, for mere speculative opinions, or his external way of wor- ship? Do you love truth for truth's sake; and will you endeavor impartially to find and receive it yourself, and comntunicate it to others?" Mr, Franklin and hi? partner ventured to set up a new public paper, which his own eflbrts as a writer and printer caused to succeed; and they obtained likewise the printing of the votes and laws of the general assembly. In process of time, Meredith withdrew fi-oni the partnership, and Franklin met with friendsy who enabled him to undertake the whole concern in his ova name, and add to it the business of a stationer. In 1730, he married the lady to whom he Mas engaged before his departure for England. During his absence he forgot his promises to her, and on his return to America, he found her the wife of another man. Although a woman of many virtues, she suffered from the unkindness of her husband, who, fortunately for her, lived but a short time. Not long after his death, Franklin again visited her, soon after Mhich they were married, and for many years lived in the full enjoyment of connubial peace and harmony. In 1732, he began to publish "Poor Richard's Almanac;" a work which was continued for twenty-five years, and which, be- sides answering the purposes of a calendar, contained many ex- cellent prudential maxims, which were of great utility to that class of the community, Avho by their poverty or laborious occupations, Avere deprived of the advantages of education. These maxims were from time to time republished both in Great Britain and on the continent. The political course of Franklin began in the year 1736, when he was appointed clerk to the general assembly of Pennsylvania; an office which he held for several years, until he was elected a BENJAMIN FEAXKLIN. 459 representative. During the same year, he assisted in the estab- lishment of the American Philosophical Society, and of a college which now exists under the title of the University of Pennsylva- nia. In the following year he was appointed to the valuable office of post master of Philadelphia. In 1738, he improved the police ' f the city, in respect to the dreadful calamity of fire, by forming a society called a fire company, to which was afterwards added an office of insurance against losses by fire. In 1742, he pub- lished his treatise on the improvement of chimneys, and contrived a stove, which is in extensive use at the present day. In the French war of 1744, he proposed a plan of voluntary association for the defence of the country. This was shonly joined by ten thousand persons, who were trained to the use and exercise of arms. Franklin was chosen colonel of the Philadelphia regi- ment; but he refused the honor, in favor of one whom he supposed to be more competent to ihe discharge of its duties. During the same year he was elected a member of the provm- cial assembly, in which body he soon became very popular, and ■was annually re-elected by his fellow-citizens for the spacsof ten years. About this time, the attention of Mr. Franklin was particularly turned to philosophical subjects. In 1747, he had witnessed in Boston, some experiments on electricity, which excited his curiosi- ty, and which he repeated on his return to Philadelphia, with great success. These experiments led to important discoveries, an ac- count of which was transmitted to England, and attracted great attention throughout all Europe. In the year 1749 be conceived the idea of explaining the phe- nomena of thunder gusts, and of the aurora borealis, upon electri- cal principles ; he pointed out many particulars, in which light- nin'T and electricity agreed, and he adduced many facts and reas- onino^s in support of his propositions. In the same year, he thought of ascertaining the truth of his doctrine by drawing down the forked lightning by means of sharp pointed iron rods, raised into the regions of the clouds. Admitting the identity of lightning and electricity, and knowing the power of points in conducting away silently the electric fluid, he suggested the idea of securing houses, ships, &c, from the damages to which they were liable 460 BENJAMIN FRANKLIN. from lightning, by erecting pointed iron rods, which should rise some feet abbve the most elevated part, and descend some feet into the ground, or water. The effect of these, he concluded, would be either to prevent a stroke, by repelling the cloud be- yond the striking distance, or by drawing off the electrical fluid which it contained; or at least, conduct the stroke to the earth, without any injury to the building. It was not till the summer of 1752, that Mr. Franklin was enabled to complete his grand exper- iment. The plan which he proposed was, to erect on some high tower, or elevated place, a sort of hut, from which should rise a pointed iron rod, insulated by being fixed in a cake of resin. — Electrified clouds passing over this, would, he conceived, impart to it a portion of their electricity, which might be rendered evi- dent to the senses by sparks being emitted, when the knuckle or other conductor was presented to it. While he was waiting for the erection of a spire, it occurred to him, that he might have more ready access to the region of clouds by means of a common kite ; he accordingly prepared one for the purpose, affixing to the upright stick an iron point. The string was as usual, of hemp, except the lower end, which was silk, and where the hempen part termi- nated, a key was fastened. With this simple apparatus, on the appearance of a thunder storm approaching, he went into the fields, accompanied by his son, to whom alone he communicated his in- tentions, dreading probably the ridicule which frequently awaits unsuccessful attempts in experimental philosophy. For some time no sign of electricity appeared ; he was beginning to despair of success, when he suddenly observed the loose fibres of the string to start forward in an erect position. He now presented his knuc- kle to the key, and received a strong spark. How exquisite must his sensations have been at this moment? On this experiment depended the fate of his theory ; repeated sparks were drawn from the key; a phial was charged, a shock given, and all the experi- ments made, which are usually performed with electricity. He immediately fixed an insulated iron rod upon his house, which drew down the lightning, and gave him an opportunity of exam- ining whether it were positive or negative, and hence he applied his discovery to the securing of buildings from the effects of light- ning. BENJAMIN FRANKLIN, 461 It will be impossible to enumerate all, or even a small part of the experiments which were made by Dr. Franklin, or to give an account of the treatises which he wrote on the branches of sci- ence. Justice requires us to say, that he seldom wrote, or dis- coursed on any subject, upon which he did not throw light. Few- men possessed a more penetrating genius, or a happier faculty of discrimination. His investigations attracted the attention, and his discoveries called forth the admiration of the learned in all parts of the world. Jealousy was at length excited in Europe, and at- tempts were made, not only to detract from his well earned fame, but to rob him of the merit of originality. Others claimed the honor of having first made several of his most brilliant experi- ments, or attempted to invalidate the truth and reality of those, an account of which he had published to the world. The good sense of Dr. Franklin led him to oppose his adversaries only by silence, leaving the vindication of his merit to the slow, but sure operations of time. In 1753 he was raised to the important office of deputy post master general of America. Through ill management, this office had been unproductive; but soon after the appointment of Frank- lin, it became a source of revenue to the British crown. In this ^station, he rendered important services to general Braddock, in his wild and fatal expedition against Fort Du Quesne. When, at length, Braddock was defeated, and the whole frontier was ex- posed to the incursions of the savages and the French, Franklin raised a company of volunteers, at the head of which he marched to the protection of the frontier. At length, in 1757, the militia was disbanded by order of the British government, soon after which Franklin was appointed ar- gent to settle the disputes which had arisen between the people of Pennsylvania and the proprietary government. With this object in view, he left his native country once more for England. On his arrival, he laid the subject before the privy council. The point in dispute was occasioned by an effort of the proprietors to ex- empt their private estates from taxation ; and because this exemp- tion was not admitted, they refused to make appropriations for the defence of the province, even in times of the greatest danger and necessity. Franklin managed the subject with great ability, and 40 462 BENJAMIN FRANKLI.V. at length brought the proprietary faction to terms. It was agreed, that the proprietary lands should take their share in a tax for the public service, provided that Franklin would engage that the as- sessment should be fairly proportioned. The measure was ac- cordingly carried into effect, and he remained at the British court as agent for his province. His reputation caused him also to be en- trusted with the like commission from Massachusetts, Maryland and Georgia. The molestation received by the British colonies, from the French in Canada, induced him to write a pamphlet, pointing out the advantages of a conquest of that province by the English; and the subsequent expedition against it, and its reten- tion under the British government, at the peace, were, it is be- lieved, much influenced by the force of his arguments on the sub- ject. About this period, his talents as a philosopher were duly appreciated in various parts of Europe. He was admitted a fel- low of the royal society of London, and the degree of doctor of laws was conferred upon him at St. Andrews, Edinburgh, and at Oxford. In 1702, he returned to America. On his arrival, the provin- cial assembly of Pennsylvania expressed their sense of his meri- torious services by a vote of thanks; and as a remuneration for his successful labors in their behalf, they granted him the sum of five thousand dollars. During his absence, he had annually been elected a member of the assembly, in which body he now took his seat. The following year he made a journey of sixteen hundred miles, through the northern colonies, for the purpose of inspect- ing and regulating the post offices. In 1764, he was again appointed the agent of Pennsylvania, to manage her concerns in England, in which country he arrived in the month of December. About this period the famous stamp act was exciting violent commotions in America. Against this meas- ure. Dr. Franklin strongly enlisted himself, and on his arrival in England, he presented a petition against it, which, at his sugges- tion, had been drawn up by the Pennsylvania assembly. At length the tumults in America became so great, that the ministry found it necessary either to modify the act, or to repeal it entirely. — Among others. Dr. Franklin was summoned before the house of commons, where he underwent a long examination. "No person BENJAMIN FRANKLI3V. 463 was better acquainted with the circumstances and internal con- cerns of the colonies, the temper and disposition of the colonists towards the parent country, or their feehngs in relation to the late measures of parliament, than this gentleman. His answers to the numerous questions put to him in the course of this inquiry, not only show his extensive acquaintance with the internal state of the colonies, but evince his sagacity as a statesman. To the question, whether the Americans would submit tc^pay the stamp duty if the act were modified, and the duty reduced to a small a- mount? He answered, no, they never will submit to it. British statesmen were extremely desirous that the colonial assemblies should acknowledge the right of parliament to tax them, and re- scind and erase from their journals their resolutions on this subject. To a question, whether the American assemblies would do this, Dr. Franklin answered, 'they never will do it, unless compelled by force of arms.' " The \s liole of this examination, on being published, was read with deep interest, both in England and America. To the state- ments of Dr. Franklin, the repeal of the stamp act was, no doubt, in a great measure, attributable. In the years 1766 and 1707, he made an excursion to Holland, Germany and France, where he met with a most flattering and distinguished reception. To the monarch of the latter country Louis XV. he was introduced, and also to other members of the royal family, by whom, as well as by the nobility and gentry at court, he was treated with great hospitality and courtesy. About this time, he was elected a member of the French academy of sciences, and received diplomas from several other literary socie- ties in England and on the continent. Allusion has already been made, in our introduction, to the dis- covery and publication, in 1772, of certain letters of governor Hutchinson, addressed by that gentleman to his friends in Eng- land, and which reflected in the severest manner upon the people of America. These letters had fallen into the hands of Dr. Frank- lin, and by him had been transmitted to America, where they were at length inserted in the public journals. For a time, no one in England knew through what channel the letters had been conveyed to America. In 1773, Franklin publicly avowed him- 464 BENJAMIN FRANKLIN. self to be the person who obtained the letters and transmitted them to America. This occasioned a violent clamor against him, and upon his attending before the privy council, in the following Janu- ary, to present a petition from the colony of Massachusetts, for the dismission of Mr. Hutchinson, a most violent invective was pro- nounced against him, by Mr. Weddeburne, afterwards loitl Lough- borough. Among other abusive epithets, the honorable member called Franklin a coward, a murderer, and a thief. During the whole of this torrent of abuse, Franklin sat with a composed and unaverted aspect, or to use his own expression, in relation to him- self on another occasion, "as if his countenance had been made of wood." During this personal and public insult, the whole as- sembly appeared greatly amused, at the expense of Dr. Franklin. The president even laughed aloud. There was a single person present, however, lord North, who, to his honor be it recorded, ex- pressed great disapprobation of the indecent conduct of the as- sembly. The intended insult, however, was entirely lost. The dignity and composure of Franklin caused a sad disappointment among his enemies, who were reluctantly compelled to acknowl- edge the superiority of his character. Their animosity, however, was not to be appeased, but by doinij Franklin the greatest injury within their power. They removed him from the office of deputy post master general, interrupted the payment of his salary as a- gent for the colonies, and finally instituted against him a suit in chancery concerning the letters of Hutchinson. At length, finding all his eflforts to restore harmony between Great Britain and the colonies useless; and perceiving that the controversy had reached a crisis, when his presence in England was no longer necessary, and his continuance personally hazard- ous, he embarked for America, where he arrived in 1775, just af- ter the commencement of hostilities. He was received with every mark of esteem and affection. He was immediately elected a del- egate to the general congress, in which body he did as much, per- haps, as any other man, to accomplish the independence of his country. In 1776, he was deputed by congress to proceed to Canada, to negotiate with the people of that country, and to persuade them, if possible, to throw off" the British yoke; but the inhabitants of BENJAMIN FRANKLIN. 465 Canada had been so much disgusted with the zeal of the people of New-England, who had burnt some of their chapels, that they re- fused to listen to the proposals made to them by Dr. Franklin and his associates. On the arrival of lord Howe in America in 1776, he entered upon a correspondence with him on the subject of re- conciliation. He was afterwards appointed with two others, to wait upon the English commissioners, and learn the extent of their powers ; but as these only went to the granting of pardon upon submission, he joined his colleagues in considering them as insuffi- cient. Dr. Franklin w^as decidedly in favor of a declaration of independence; and was appointed president of the convention as- sembled for the purpose of establishing a new government for the state of Pennsylvania. When it was determined by congress to open a public negotiation with France, he was commissioned to visit that country, with which he negotiated the treaty of alliance, offensive and defensive, which produced an . immediate war be- tween England and France. Dr. Franklin was one of the com- missioners who, on the part of the United States,, signed the pro- visional articles of peace in 1782, and the definitive treaty in the following year. Before he left Europe, he concluded a treatV/''^^" Sweden and Prussia. By the latter he obtained several^ "' ^'"' eral and humane stipulations in favor of the freedom of" "^i^erce, and the security of private property during war, i' '^^^^^^'^ity to those principles which he had ever maintained Z"^^^*^^^ subjects. Having seen the accomplishment of his w^ ^^ ^'^^ indepen- dence of his country, he requested to b^'^^^^'^^' ^"'^ ^^t^^' '^- peated solicitations, Mr. Jefferson wa/^"^'"'^^ '"^ ^'' '^^^^•- On the arHval of his successor, he^ ^^"'"'^ ^"^ ^^^'^ ^^ ^^^^^' and crossing the English channeJ^^"'^ ^' ^"^^P°^' ^^ '^^ ^^'^ «^ Wight, whence, after a favor/P'^'^'Se, he arrived safe at Phil- adelphia, in September, IJ/' rp. r 1 • . >^vas received with great joy by the cit- 1 he news of his arrj^, , , ^ j j j ^^^^ .'jQ flocked from all parts to see him, and izens. A vast muh^ „ l ,. , T amidst the rinaip^ ^^"'' *^^ ^'^^harge of artillery, and the ac- %sands, conducted him in triumph to his own , Ti/ ^^^^ hewas visited by the members of congress , . ymcipal inhabitants of Philadelphia. From numerous lis and assemblies, he received the most aflectionate ad- 10* 4G6 BENJAMIN FRAXKLIIV. dresses. All testified their joy at his return, and their veneration of his exalted character. This was a period in his life, of which he often spoke with pe- culiar pleasure. "I am now," said he, "in the bosom of my fam- ily, and find four new little prattlers, who cling about the knees of their grandpapa, and afford me great pleasure. I am surround- ed by my friends, and have an affectionate good daughter and son- in-law to take care of me. I have got into my niche, a very good house which I built twenty-four years ago, and out of which I have been ever since kept by foreign employments." He was not long permitted to enjoy the domestic tranquility in which he now found himself, being appointed president of the commonwealth of Pennsylvania; an office which he held for three years, and the duties of which he discharged very acceptably to his constituents. Of the federal convention of 1787, for organ- izing the constitution of the United States, he was elected a dele- gate; and in the intricate discussions which arose on that instru- ment, he bore a distinguished part. \Iu 1788 he withdrew from -public life, his great age rendering rev.^gjjt desirable, and the infirmities of his body unfitting him for thv|,^,j.je„g of p^,]3|ip Qfj'^pg^ Q^ ^j^g l^jlj of April, 17D0, m the eigni..fQ^jj.t|^ y^g^j. of his age, he expired in the city of Phila- delphia, ariu..gj, ii^terred on the 21st. Congress directed a general mourning for i.^^ throughout the United States, for the space of a month. The nt. ^^^j assembly of France, testified their sense of the loss which the .^^j^ sustained, bv decreeing that each mem- ber should wear moun. ^ ^^^ ^j^^.^^ ^^^.^ ^^^^ ^^,^^ ^^ j^^^^^,. perhaps never before pai.. ^j^^ ^^^.^^^j assembly of one coun- try to a citizen of another. p^^^yj,^ ^^3 Juried in the north- west corner of Christ Church y.'^ . ^ J 1 !• T \¥^.,-\i , in Philadelphia. In his will he directed that no monumental ori. , , , , , , , , , , , ^ents should be placed upon his tomb. A small marble slab only, . „ 1 .1 ^ ^ , - , , , "ef ore, and that too, on a level with the surface of the earth, bear.. . „ , . , „ - , . , , , the name of himseit and wife, and the vear ot his death, marks . ^ • ^ j ' . " spot in the yard where he lies. Dr. Franklin had two children, a son and a daughu m, ■= , The son, under the British government, was appointed governoi ^ -^ Jersey. On the occurrence of the revolution, he lefl An. • BENJAMIN FRA>'KLI\. 467 and took up his residence in England, wiiere he spent the remain- der of his life. The daughter was respectably married in Phila- delphia, to Mr. William Bache, -vvhose descendants still reside in that city. In stature, Dr. Franklin was above the middle size. He pos- sessed a healthy constitution, and was remarkable for his strength and activity. His countenance indicated a serene state of mind, great depth of thought, and an inflexible resolution. In his intercourse with mankind, he was uncommonly agreeable. In conversation, he abounded in curious and interesting anecdote. A vein of good humor marked his conversation, and strongly re- commended him to both old and young, to the learned and illiterate. As a philosopher, he justly ranks high. In his speculations, he seldom lost sight of common sense, or yielded up his understand- ing either to enthusiasm or authority. He contributed, in no small degree, to the extension of science, and to the improvement of the condition of mankind. He appears to have entertained, at some periods of his life, opinions which were in many respects peculiar, and which probably were not founded upon a sound phil- osophy. The following experiment, which he made some years after his father's death, and after an absence of several years, to ascertain whether his mother would know him, will be thought at least curious and interesting. It was his conjecture, if not a well settled opinion, that a mother might, by a kind of instinct or natu- ral affection, recognize her children, even although she had lost the recollection of their particular features. It was on a visit to his native town of Boston, after an absence of many years, that this curious incident occurred. "To discover the existence of this instinct by actual experiment," says an unknown writer, to whom we are indebted for the story, and upon whose responsibility we give it to our readers, "the doctor resolved to introduce himself as a stranger to his mother, and to watch narrowly for the moment in which she should discover her son, and then to determine, with the cool precision of the philoso- pher, whether that discovery was the effect of that instinct of affec- tion, that intuitive love, that innate attachment, which is conjec- tured to cement relatives of the same blood; and which, by accord- ing the passions of parent and child, like a well tuned viol, would, 46S BENJAMIN FRANKLIN. at the first touch, cause them to vibrate in unison, and at once evince that they were different chords of the same instrument. "On a sullen, chilly day, in the month of January, in the after- noon, the doctor knocked at his mother's door, and asked to speak with Mrs. Franklin. He found the old lady knitting before the par- lor fire. He introduced himself, and observing, that he under- stood she entertained travellers, requested a night's lodging. She eyed him with that cold look of disapprobation which most people assume, when they imagine themselves insulted, by being sup- posed to exercise an employment but one degree below their real occupation in life — assured him that he had been misinformed; that she did not keep tavern; but that it was true, to oblige some mem- bers of the legislature, she took a number of them into her family during the session ; that she had four jnerabers of the council, and six of the house of representatives, who then boarded with her; that all her beds were full ; and then betook herself to her knitting, with that intense application, which expressed, as forcibly as action could do, if you have concluded your business, the sooner you leave the house the better. But upon the doctor wrapping his coat around him, affecting to shiver with cold, and observing that it was very chilly weather, she pointed to a chair, and gave him leave to warm himself. "The entrance of her boarders precluded all further conversa- tion; coffee was soon served, and the doctor partook with the fam- ily. To the coffee, according to the good old custom of the times, succeeded a plate of pippins, pipes, and a paper of M'Intire's best when the whole family formed a cheerful smoking semi-circle be- fore the fire. Perhaps no man ever possessed colloquial powers to a more fascinating degree than Dr. Franklin, and never was there an occasion when he displayed those powers to greater advantage, than at this time. He drew the attention of the company, by the solidity of his modest remarks, instructing them by the varied, new, and striking lights in which he placed his subjects, and delighted them with apt and amusing anecdotes. Thus employed, the hours passed merrily along, until eight o'clock, when, punctual to a mc- ment, Mrs. Franklin announced supper. Busied with her house- hold affairs, she fancied the intruding stranger had quitted the house immediately after coffee, and it was with difficulty she could I BENJAMIN FRANKLIN. 469 restrain her resentment, when she saw him, without invitation, seat himself at the table with the freedom of a member of the family. -'Immediately after supper she called an elderly gentleman, a member of council, in whom she was accustomed to confide, to an- other room; complained bitterly of the rudeness of the stranger; told the manner of his introduction to her house ; observed that he appeared like an outlandish man; and she thought had somethin"- very suspicious in his appearance; concluding by solicitino- her friend's advice with respect to the way in which she could most easily rid herself of his presence. The old gentleman assured her, that the stranger was certainly a young man of education, and to all appearance a gentleman ; that, perhaps, being in agreeable company, he had paid no attention to the lateness of the hour; and advised her to call him aside, and repeat her inability to lodge him. She accordingly sent her maid to him, and then, with as much temper as she could command, recapitulated the situation of her family, observed that it grew late, and mildly intimated that he- would do well to seek himself a lodging. The doctor replied, that iie would by no means incommode her family ; but that, with her leave, he would smoke one pipe more with her boarders, and then retire. "He returned to the company, filled his pipe, and with the first whiff his powers returned with double force. He recounted the hardships, he extolled the piety and policy of their ancestors. A gentleman present mentioned the subject of the day's debate in the house of representatives. A bill had been introduced to extend the prerogatives of the royal governor. The Dr. immediately en- tered upon the subject; supported the colonial rights with new and forcible arguments; was familiar with the names of the influential men in the house, when Dudley was governor; recited their speeches, and applauded the noble defence of the charter of rights. "During a discourse so appropriately interesting to the company, no wonder the clock struck eleven, unperceived by the delighted circle ; and was it wonderful that the patience of Mrs. Franklin grew quite exhausted ? She now entered the room, and, before the whole company, with much warmth, addressed the doctor; told him plainly, she thought herself imposed on ; observed, it was true 470 BENJAMIN FRANKLIN. she was a lone woman, but that she had friends who would protect her, and concluded by insisting on his leaving the house. The doctor made a slight apology, deliberately put on his great coat and hat, took polite leave of the company, and approached the street door, lighted by the maid, and attended by the mistress. — While the doctor and his companions had been enjoying them- selves within, a most tremendous snow storm had, without, filled the streets knee deep; and no sooner had tiie maid lifted the latch, than a roaring northeaster forced open the door, extinguished the light, and almost filled the entry with drifted snow and hail. As soon as it was re-lighted, the doctor cast a woful look towards the door, and thus addressed his mother:. 'My dear madam, can you turn me out in this dreadful storm? I am a stranger in this town, and shall certainly perish in the streets. You look like a charita- ble lady; I should'nt think you could turn a dog from your door in this tempestuous night.' 'Don't tell me of charity,' said the of- fended matron; 'charity begins at home. It is your own fault you tarried so long. To be plain with you, sir, I do not like your looks, or your conduct; and fear you have some bad designs in thus in- troducing yourself to my family.' *'The warmth of this parley had drawn the company from the parlor, and by their united interference, the stranger was permit- ted to lodge in the house ; and as no bed could be had, he consented to rest on an easy chair before the parlor fire. Although the boarders appeared to confide perfectly in the stranger's honesty, it was not so with Mrs. Franklin. With suspicious caution, she collected her silver spoons, pepper-box, and porringer, from her closet; and, af- ter securing her parlor door by sticking a fork over the latch, car- ried the plate to her chamber; charged the negro man to sleep with his clothes on, to take the great lever to bed with him, and to waken and seize the vagrant at the first noise he made, in attempting to plunder the house. Having thus taken every precaution, she re- tired to her bed with her maid, whom she compelled to sleep in her room. "Mrs. Franklin rose before the sun, roused her domestics, un- fastened the parlor door with timid caution, and was agreeably surprised to find her guest sleeping on his own chair. A sudden transition from extreme distrust to perfect confidence, was natural . EE>'JAr.U>' FRANKLIN, 471 She awakened him with a cheerful good morning; inquired liow he rested j invited him to partake of her breakfast, which was always served previous to that of her boarders. 'And pray, sir,' said the lady, as she sipped her chocolate, 'as you appear to be a stranger here, to what distant country do you belong?' 'I, madam, belong to the city of Philadelphia.'' At the mention of Philadelphia, the doctor declared he, for the first time, perceived some emotion m her. ^Philadelphia,'' said she, and all the mother suffused her eye: 'if you live in Philadelphia, perhaps you know our Ben.' 'Who madam?' 'Why Ben Franklin — my Ben— Oh! he is the dearest child that ever blessed a mother !' 'What,' said the doctor, 'is Ben Franklin, the printer, your son ; why he is my most inti- mate friend : he and I lodged in the same room.' 'Oh ! God forgive me,' exclaimed the old lady, raising her watery eyes to heaven — 'and have I suffered a friend of my Benny to sleep in this hard chair, while I myself rested on a good bed?' "How the doctor discovered himself to his mother, he has not informed us; but from the above experiment he was fully con- vinced, and was often afterwards heard to declare, that natural affection did not exist.", Few men have exhibited a more worthy conduct, than did Dr, Franklin, through his long life. Through every vicissitude of fortune, he seems to have been distinguished for sobriety and temperance ; for his extraordinary perseverance and resolution. — He was not less distinguished for his veracity, for the constancy of his friendship, for his candor, and his fidelity to his moral and civil obligations. In the early part of his life, he acknowledged himself to have been sceptical in religion; but he became in ma- turer years, according to the testimony of his intimate friend. Dr. William Smith, a believer in divine revelation. The following extract from his memoirs, written by himself, deserves to be re- corded: "And here let me with all humility acknowledge, that to Divine Providence I am indebted for the felicity I have hitherto enjoyed. It is that power alone which has furnished me with the means I have employed, and that has crowned them with success. My faith in this respect leads me to hope, though I cannot count upon it, that the divine goodness will still be exercised toward me, either by prolonging the duration of my happiness to the close 472 JOHN ADAMS. of life, or giving me fortitude to support any melancholy reverse which may happen to me as well as to many others. My future fortune is unknown but to Him, in whose hand is our destiny, and who can make our very afflictions subservient to our benefit." We conclude our notice of this distinguished man and profound philosopher, by subjoining the following epitaph, which was writ- ten by himself many years previous to his death : "The body of Bexjamin Fraxklin, printer, like the cover of an old book, its contents torn out, and stripped of its lettering and gilding, lies here, food for worms ; yet the work itself shall not be lost, for it will (as he believed) appear once more, in a new and beautiful edition, corrected and amended by the Author." JOHN ADAMS. John Adams was born at Quincy, then part of the ancient town of Braintree, on the 19th day of October, old syle, 1735. He was a descendant of the Puritans, his ancestors having early emigrated from England, and settled in Massachusetts. Discovering early a strong love of reading and of knowledge, proper care was taken by his father to provide for his education. His youthful studies were prosecuted in Braintree, under a Mr. Marsh, whose fortune it was to instruct several children, who in manhood were destined to act a conspicuous part in the scenes of the revolution. He became a member of Harvard college, 1751, and was gra- duated in course in 1755. Having chosen the law for his profes- sion, he commenced and prosecuted his studies under the direction of Samuel Putnam, a barrister of eminence at Worcester. By him he was introduced to the celebrated Jeremy Gridley, attorney- general of the province of Massachusetts Bay. At the first inter- view they became friends. Gridley at once proposed Mr. Adams for admission to the bar of Suffolk, and took him into special favor. Soon after his admission, Mr. Gridley led his young friend, with an air of secrecy, into a private chamber, and pointing to a book- case, said, "Sir, there is the secret of my eminence, and of which you may avail yourself as you please." It was a pretty good col- lection of treatises of the civil law. In this place Mr. Adams spent his days and nights, until he had made himself master of the principles of the code. JOHN ADAMS. 473 From early life the bent of his mind was towards politics ; a propensity which the state of the times, if it did not create, doubt- less very much strengthened. While a resident at Worcester, he wrote a letter, dated October 12th, 1755, of which the following is an extract: — "Soon after the reformation, a few people came over into this new world for conscience sake. Perhaps this ap- parently trivial incident may transfer the seat of empire into A- merica. It looks likely to me ; for if we can remove the turbulent Gallicks, our people, according to the exactest computations, will in another century become more numerous than England itself. Should this be the case, since we have, I may say, all the naval stores of the nation in our hands, it will be easy to obtain a mas- tery of the seas ; and the united force of all Europe will not be able to subdue us. The only way to keep us from setting up for ourselves, is to disunite us. Be not surprised that I am turned politician. The whole town is immersed in politics. The interests of nations, and of all the dira of war, make the subject of every Qpnversation. I sit and hear, and after having been led through a maze of sage observations, I sometimes retire and lay things together, and form some reflections pleasing to myself. The pro- duce of one of these reveries you have read." This prognostication of independence, and of so vast an in- crease of numbers, and of naval force, as might defy all Europe, is remarkable, especially as coming from so young a man, and so early in the history of the country. It is more remarkable that its author should have lived to see fulfilled to the letter, what would have seemed to others, at that time, but the extravagance of youthful fancy. His early political feelings were thus strongly American; and from this ardent attachment to his native soil, he never departed. In 1757 he was admitted to the bar, and commenced business in Braintree. He is understood to have made his first considerable effort, or to have obtained his most signal "success, at Plymouth, in a jury trial, and a criminal cause. In 1765, Mr. Adams laid before the public his "Essay on the Canon and Feudal Law;" a work distinguished for its power and eloquence. The object of this work was to show, that our New- England ancestors, in consenting to exile themselves from their 41 474 JOHN ADAMS. native land, were actuated mainly by a desire of delivering themselves from the power of the hierarchy, and from the monar- chical, aristocratical, and political system of the other continent ; and to make this truth bear with effect on the politics of the times. Its tone is uncommonly bold and animated for that period. He calls on the people not only to defend, but to study and understand their rights and privileges; and urges earnestly the necessity of diffusing general knowledge. In conclusion, he exclaims — "Let the pulpit resound with the doctrines and sentiments of religious liberty. Let us hear the danger of thraldom to our con- sciences, from ignorance, extreme poverty and dependence; in short, from civil and political slavery. Let us see delineated be- fore us, the true map of man : let us hear the dignity of his nature, and the noble rank he holds among the works of God — that con- senting to slavery is a sacrilegious breach of trust, as offensive in the sight of God, as it is dei'ogatory from our own honor, or inter- est, or happiness ; and that God Almighty has promulgated from heaven, liberty, peace, and good will to man. "Let the &ar proclaim the laws, the rights, the generous plan of power delivered down from remote antiquity ; inform the world of the mighty struggles and the numberless sacrifices made by our ancestors in the defence of freedom. Let it be known that Brit- ish liberties are not the grants of princes or parliaments, but ori- ginal rights, conditions of original contracts, coequal with preroga- tive, and coeval with government. That many of our rights are inherent and essential, agreed on as maxims and. established as preliminaries even before a parliament existed. Let them search for the foundation of British laws and government in the frame of human nature, in the constitution of the intellectual and moral world. There let us see that truth, liberty, justice, and benevo- lence, are its everlasting basis ; and if these could be removed? the superstructure is overthrown of course. "Let the colleges join their harmony in the same delightful con- cert. Let every declamation turn upon the beauty of liberty and virtue, and the deformity, turpitude, and malignity of slavery and vice. Let the public disputations become researches into the grounds, nature, and ends of government, and the means of pre- serving tlie good and demolishing the evil. Let the dialogues and JOHN ADAMS. 475 all the exercise become the instruments of impressing on the ten- der mind, and of spreading and distributing far and wide the ideas of right, and the sensations of freedom." In 1766, Mr. Adams removed his residence to Boston, still con- tinuing his attendance on the neighboring circuits, and not unfre- quently called to remote parts of the province. In 1770 occurred, as has already been noticed, the "Boston mas- sacre." Mr. Adams was solicited by the British officers and sol- diers to undertake their defence, on the indictment found against them, for their share in that tragical scene. This was a severe test of his professional firmness. He was well aware of the pop- ular indignation against these prisoners, and he was at that time a representative of Boston in the general court, an office which depended entirely upon popular favor. But he knew that it was due to his profession, and to himself, to undertake their defence, and to hazard the consequences. "The trial was well managed. The captain was severed in his trial from the soldiers, who were tried first, and their defence rested in part upon the orders, real or supposed, given by the officer to his men to fire. This was in a good measure successful. On the trial of captain Preston, no such oi"der to fire could be proved. The result was, as it should have been, an acquittal. It was a glorious thing that the counsel and jury had nerve sufficient to breast the torrent of public feel- ing. It showed Britain that she had not a mere mob to deal with, but resolute and determined men, who could restrain themselves. Such men are dangerous to arbitrary pov:er. The event proved, that as he judged well for his own reputa- tion, so he judged well for the interest and permanent fame of his country. The same year he was elected one of the representa- tives in the general assembly, an honor to which the people would not have called him, had he lost their confidence and aflfection. In the years 1773, and 1774, he was chosen a counsellor by the members of the general court; but was rejected by governor Hutchinson, in the former of these years, and by governor Gage, in the latter. In this latter year he was appointed a member of the continen- tal congress, from Massachusetts. "This appointment was made at Salem, where the general court had been convened by gover- 476 ' JOHN ADAMS. nor Gage, in the last hour of the existence of a house of represen- tatives, under the provincial charter. While engaged in this im- portant business, the governor having been informed of what was passing, sent his secretary, with a message, dissolving the gener- al court. The secretary finding the door locked, directed the mes- senger to go in, and inform the speaker that the secretary was at the door, with a message from the governor. The messenger re- turned, and informed the secretary' that the orders of the house were that the doors should be kept fast; whereupon the secretary soon after read a proclamation, dissolving the general court, upon the stairs. Thus terminated, forever, the actual exercise of the political power of England in or over Massachusetts." On the meeting of congress in Philadelphia, 1774, Mr. Adams appeared and took his seat. To talents of the highest order, and the most commanding eloquence, he added an honest devotion to the cause of his country, and a firmness of character, for which he was distinguished through life. Prior to that period he had, upon all occasions, stood forth openly in defence of the rights of his country, and in opposition to the injustice and encroachments of Great Britain. He boldly opposed them by his advice, his actions and his eloquence ; and with other worthies, succeeded in spread- ing among the people a proper alarm for their liberties. Mr. Ad- ams was placed upon the first and most important committees. — During the first year, addresses were prepared to the king, to the people of England, of Ireland, Canada, and Jamaica. The name of Mr. Adams is found upon almost all those important commit- tees. His firmness and eloquence in debate, soon gave him a standing among the highest in that august body. The proceedings of this congress have already passed in re- view. Among the members, a vai-iety of opinions seem to have prevailed, as to the probable issue of the contest, in which the country was engaged. On this subject, Mr. Adams, a few years before his death, expressed himself, in a letter to a friend, as fol- lows : "When congress had finished their business, as they thought? in the autumn of 1774, I had with Mr. Henry, before we took leave of each other, some familiar conversation, in which I ex- pressed a full conviction that our resolves, declaration of rights, enumeration of wrongs, petitions, remonstrances, and addresses, JOHN ADAMS. 477 associations, and non-importation agreements, however they might be viewed in America, and however necessary to cement the union of the colonies, would be but waste paper in England. Mr. Hen- ry said, they might make some impression among the people of Eng- land, but agreed with me, that they would be totally lost upon the government. I had just received a short and hasty letter, written to me by major Joseph Hawle}-, of Northampton, containing a few broken hints, as he called them, of what he thought was pro- per to be done, and concluding with these words, 'after all, we must fight.' This letter I read to Mr. Henry, who listened with great attention, and as soon as I had pronounced the words, 'after all, we must fight,' he raised his head, and, with an energy and vehemence that I can never forget, broke out with, 'I am of that man's mind.' I put the letter into his hand, and when he had read it he returned it to me, with an equally solemn asseveration, that he agreed entirely in opinion with the writer. "The other delegates from Virginia returned to their state in full confidence that all our grievances would be redressed. The Jast words that Mr. Richard Henry Lee said to me, when we parted, were, we shall infallibly carry all our points. You will be completely relieved, all the offensive acts will be repealed; the army and fleet will be recalled, and Britain will give up her fool- ish project." "Washington only was in doubt. He never spoke in public. — In private, he joined with those who advocated a non-exportation, as well as a non-importation agreement. With both, he thought we should prevail; without either, he thought it doubtful. Henr}' was clear in one opinion, Richard Henry Lee in an opposite opin- ion, and Washington doubted between the two. On the 15th day of June, the continental congress appointed general Washington commander-in-chief of the American armies. To Mr. Adams is ascribed the honor of having suggested and ad- vocated the choice of this illustrious man. When first suggested by Mr. Adams, to a few of his confidential friends in congress, the proposition was received with a marked disapprobation. — Washington, at this time was almost a stranger to them; and, be- sides, to elevate a man who had never held a higher military rank than that of colonel, over officers of the highest grade in the mi 41* 478 ' JOHN ADAMS. litia, and those too, already in the field, appeared not only irregu- lar, but likely to produce much dissatisfaction among them and the people at large. To Mr. Adams, however, the greatest ad- vantage appeared likely to result from the choice of Washington, whose character and peculiar fitness for the station he well under- stood. Samuel Adams, his distinguished colleague, coincided with him in these views, and through their instrumentality this felicit- ous choice was effected. When a majority in congress had been secured, Mr. Adams introduced the subject of appointing a com- mander-in-chief of the armies, and having sketched the qualifica- tions which should be found in the man to be elevated to so res- ponsible a station, he concluded by nominating George Washing- ton of Virginia to the office. To Washington, himself, nothing could have been more unex- pected. Until that moment he was ignorant of the intended nom- ination. The proposal was seconded by Samuel Adams, and the following day it received the unanimous approbation of congress. When Mr. Adams was first made a member of the continental congress, it was hinted that he, at that time, inclined to a separa- tion of the colonies from England, and the establishment of an in- dependent government. On his way to Philadelphia, he was warned, by several advisers, not to introduce a subject of so deli- cate a character, until the affairs of the' country should wear a different aspect. Whether Mr. Adams needed this admonition or not, will not, in this place, be determined. But in 1776, the affairs of the colonies, it could no longer be questioned, demanded at least ihe candid discussion of the subject. On the 6th of May, of that vear, Mr. Adams offered, in committee of the whole, a resolution ■ hat the colonies should form governments independent of the crown. On the 10th. of May, this resolution was adopted, in the following shape : "That it be recommended to all the colonies, which had not already established governments suited to the exi- gencies of their case, to adopt such governments as would, in the opinion of the representatives of the people, best conduce to the happinf ss and safety of their constituents in particular, and Amer- icans in general.'" "This significant vote was soon followed by the direct propo- sition, which Richard Heney Lee, had the honor to submit to JOHN ADAMS. 479 congress, by resolution, on the 7th day of June. The published journal does not expressly state it. but there is no doubt that this resolution was in the same words, when originally submitted by Mr. Lee, as when finally passed. Having been discussed on Sat- urday the 8th, and Monday the 10th of June, this resolution was, on the last mentioned day, postponed for further consideration to the first day of July ; and at the same time it was voted, that a committee be appointed to prepare a declaration, to the effect of the resolution. This committee was elected by ballot on the fol- lowing day, and consisted of Thomas Jefferson, John Adams, Benjamin Franklin, Roger Sherman, and Robert R. Living- ston." It is usual when committees are elected by ballot, that their members are arranged in order, according to the number of votes which each has received. Mr. Jefferson, therefore, probably re- ceived the highest, and Mr. Adams the next highest number of votes. The difference is said to have been but a single vote. Mr. Jefferson and Mr. Adams, standing thus at the head of the committee, were requested by the other members, to act as a sub- committee to prepare the draft; and Mr. Jefferson drew up the pa- per. The original draft, as brought by him from his study, and submitted to the other members of the committee, with interlinea- tions in the hand writing of Dr. Franklin, and others in that of Mr. Adams, was in Mr. Jefferson's possession at the time of his death. The merit of this paper is Mr. Jefferson's. Some changes were made in it, on the suggestion of other members of the committee, and others by congress, while it was under discussion. But none of them altered the tone, the frame, the arrangement, or the gen- eral character of the instrument. As a composition, the declara- tion is Mr. Jefferson's. It is the production of his mind, and the high honor of it belongs to him clearly and absolutely. "While Mr. Jefferson was the author of the declaration itself, Mr. Adams was its great supporter on the floor of congress. This was the unequivocal testimony of Mr. Jefferson. 'John Adams,' said he, on one occasion, 'was our Colossus on the floor; not grace- ful, not elegant, not always fluent in his public addresses, he yet came out with a power, both of thought and expression, that moved us from our seats;' and at another time he said, 'John Adams was 480 JOHIf ADAMS. the pillar of its support on the floor of congress ; its ablest advo- cate and defender against the multifarious assaults, which were made against it.' " On the second day of July, the resolution of independence was adopted, and on the fourth, the declaration itself was unanimously agreed to. Language can Scarcely describe the transports of Mr. Adams at this time. He has best described them himself, in a let- ter written the day following, to his wife. "Yesterday," says he, "the greatest question was decided that was ever debated in Amer- ica; and greater, perhaps, never was or will be decided among men. A resolution was passed, without one dissenting colony, 'that these United States are, and of right ought to be, free and independent slates.' The day is passed. The 4th of July, 177.6, will be a memorable epoch in the history of America. lam apt to beheve it will be celebrated by succeeding generations as the great anniversary festival. It ought to be commemorated as the day of deliverance, by solemn acts of devotion to Almighty God. It ought to be solemnized with pomps, shows, games, sports, guns. bells, bonfires, and illuminations, from one end of the continent to the other, from this time forward, for ever. You will think me transported with enthusiasm, but I am not. I am well aware of the toil, and blood, and treasure, that it will cost to maintain this declaration, and support and defend these states; yet through all the gloom, I can see the rays of light and glory. I can see that the end is worth more than all the means ; and that posterity will triumph, although you and I may rue, which I hope we shall not." About the time of the declaration of independence, occurred the disastrous battle of Flatbush on Long Island. The victory thus gained by the British, was considered by lord Howe, as a favorable moment for proposing to congress an accommodation ; and for this purpose, he requested an interview with some of the mem- bers. In the deliberations of congress, Mr. Adams opposed this proposal, on the ground that no accommodation could thus be eflected. A committee, however, was appointed to wait on lord Howe, consisting of himself. Dr. Franklin, and Mr. Rutledge. On being apprised of their intended interview, lord Howe sent one of his principal ofiicers as a hostage, but the commissioners taking him JOHN ADAMS. 481 with them, fearlessly repaired to the British camp. On their ar- rival, they were conducted through an army of twenty thousand men, drawn up for the purpose of show and impression. But the display was lost on the commissioners, who studiously avoided all signs of wonder or anxiety. As had been predicted by Mr. Adam?, tlie interview terminated without any beneficial result. On being introduced, lord Howe informed them that he could not treat with them as a committee of congress, but only as private gentlemen of influence in the colonies ,• to which Mr. Adams replied, "you may view me in any light you please, sir, except that of a British subject." During the r«mainder of the year 1776, and all 1777, Mr. Adams was deeply engaged in the affairs of congress. He served as a member of nmety different committees, and was chairman of twen- ty-five committees. From his multiform and severe labors, he was relieved in December of the latter year, by the appointment of commissioner to France, in the place of Silas Deane. In February, 1778, he embarked for that country on board of the frigate Boston. On his arrival in France, he found that Dr. Franklin, and Arthur Lee, who had been appointed commission- ers the preceding year, and were then in France, had already concluded a treaty with the French government. Little business, therefore, of a public nature was left him to do. In the summer of 1779, he returned to America. About the time of his arrival, the people of Massachusetts were adopting measures foV calling a convention to form a new state constitution. Of this convention he was elected a .member, and was also a member of the committee appointed by the convention to report a plan for their consideration. .A pian he drew up was accepted, and was made the basis of the constitution of that state. In the August following, in consequence of an informal sugges- tion from the court of St. James, he received the appointment of minister plenipotentiary for negotiating a treaty of peace, and a treaty of commerce, with Great Britain. A salary of twenty-five hundred pounds sterling was voted him. In the month of October, he embarked on board the French ship La Sensible, and after a tedious voyage was landed at Ferrol, in Spain, w hence he proceeded to Paris, where he arrived in the month of February. He there 482 JOHN ADAMS. communicated with Dr. Franklin, who was at that time envoy of the United States at the court of France, and with the count de Vergennes, the French prime minister. But the British govern- ment, it was found, were not disposed to peace, and the day seemed far distant when any negotiation could be opened with a hope of success. Mr. Adams, however, was so useful in various ways, that towards the close of the year, congress honored him by a vote of thanks, "for his industrious attention to the interest and honor of these United States abroad." In June i7S0, congress being informed that Mr. Laurens, who had been appointed to negotiate a loan in Holland for the United States, had been taken prisoner by the English, forwarded a com- mission to Mr. Adams, to proceed to Holland, for the above purpose. To this, soon after, was added the new appointment of commis- sioner, to conclude a treaty of amity and commerce with the states-general of Holland ; and at the same time, authority was given him to pledge the faith of the United States to the armed "neu- trality" proposed by the Russian government. Mr. Adams re- paired with promptitude to Holland, and engaged with great zeal in the business of his commission. From this station he was suddenly summoned by the count de Vergennes, to consult, at Paris, with regard to a project for a gen- eral peace, suggested by the courts of Vienna and St. Petersburgh. This was one of the most anxious periods in the eventful life of Mr. Adams. France was^ indeed, ready to fulfil her guarantee of independence to the United States ; but it was the politic aim of the count de Vergennes, to secure important advantages for his own country, in the settlement of American difficulties. Hence, no effort was spared to make Mr. Adams, in this important matter, the subordinate agent of the French cabinet. He, on the other hand, regarded solely the interests of the United States, and the instructions of congress ; and his obstinate independence, unshaken by the alternate threats and blandishments of the court of Ver- sailles, occasioned an effort by the count de Vergennes to obtain, through the French minister in Philadelphia, such a modification of the instructions to Mr. Adams, as should subject him to the direction of the French cabinet. The effect of this artful and strenuous measure was, a determi- JOHN ADAMS. 483 nation on the part of congress, that Mr. Adams should hold the most confidential intercourse with the French ministers ; and should "undertake nothing in the negotiation of a peace, or truce, with- out their knowledge and concurrence." Under these humiliating restrictions, the independent and de- cisive spirit of Mr. Adams was severely tried. The imperial mediators proposed an armistice, but without any withdrawal of troops from America. Mr. Adams firmly opposed this stipulation ; and the negotiation proceeded no farther at that time. It was obviously the policy of the French minister, not to facili- tate the peace between Great Britain and the United States, with- out previously securing to France a large share in the fisheries ; and at the same time so establishing the western boundary, as to sacrifice the interests of the United States to those of Spain. Finding all attempts at negotiation unavailing, Mr. Adams re- turned to Holland. Meantime, the apprehensions of congress being much excited by the insinuations of the French minister in Philadelphia, they added to the commission for forming a treaty with Great Britain, Dr. Franklin, then plenipotentiary at Paris ; Mr. Jay, the minister at Madrid; Mr. Henry Laurens, who had been recently appointed special minister to France ; and Mr. Jef- ferson. The whole were instructed to govern themselves by the advice and opinion of the ministers of the king of France. This unaccountable and dishonorable concession, in eifect, made the count deVergennes minister plenipotentiary for the United States, But the indefatigable exertions of Mr. Adams in Holland had a most important beai'ing upon the proposed negotiations. By a la- borious and striking exhibition of the situation and resources of the United States, he succeeded in so influencing public opinion, as to obtain a loan of eight millions of guilders on reasonable terms. This loan, effected in the autunm of 1782, was soon fol- lowed by a treaty of amity and commerce with Holland, recogniz- ing the United States as sovereign and independent states. The disposition towards peace, on the part of the English min- istry, was wonderfully quickened by the favorable negotiation of this loan. During lord Shelburne's administration, the indepen- dence of the states was unconditionally acknowledged, and the first effectual steps were taken to put an end to the war. 484 JOHN ADAMS. During the negotiations that followed, the disposition of France ao-ain evinced itself, to cut off the United States from a share of the fisheries, and to transfer a portion of the American territory to Spain. The American commissioners, therefore, were not a little embarrassed by their instructions from congress, to govern themselves by the opinion and advice of the French minister : but as Mr. Adams had, on a former occasion, found it necessary to (depart from instructions of a similar import, the other commission- ers now joined with him in the determination to secure the best interest of their country, regardless of the interference of the French minister, and of the inconsiderate restrictions imposed on them by congress. Accordingly, provisional articles were signed by them on the 30th of November, 1782; and this measure was followed by an advantageous definitive treaty, in September 1783. Mr. Adams spent a part of the year 1784 in Holland, but re- turned eventually to Paris, on being placed at the head of a com- mission, with Dr. Franklin and Mr. Jefierson as coadjutors, to ne- gotiate several commercial treaties with different foreign nations. Near the commencement of the year 1785, congress resolved to send a minister plenipotentiary to represent the United States at the court of St. James. To this responsible station, rendered peculiarly delicate by the fact that the United States had been so recently and reluctantly acknowledged as an independent nation, Mr. Adams was appointed. It was doubtful in what manner and with what spirit an American minister would be received by the British government. On leaving America, Mr. Jay, then secre- tary of state, among other instructions used the following language : "The manner of your reception at that court, and its temper, views and dispositions respecting American objects, are matters con- cerning which particular information might be no less useful than interesting. Your letters will, I am persuaded, remove all sus- pense on those points." In accordance with this direction, Mr. Adams subsequently forwarded to Mr. Jay, the following interesting account of his presentation to the king: — "During my first interview with the marquis of Carmarthen, he told me it was customary for every foreign minister, at his first presentation to the king, to make his majesty some compliments, conformable to the spirit of his credent JOHN ADAMS. 485 itials; and when Sir Clement Cottrel Dormer, the master of cere- monies, came to inform me that he should accompany me to the secretary of state, and to court, he said that every foreign minister whom he had attended to the queen, had always made an ha- rangue to her majesty, and he understood, though he had not been present, that they always harangued the king. On Tuesday even- mg the baron de Lynden (Dutch ambassador) called upon me, and said he came from the baron de Nolkin, (Swedish envoy,) and had been conversing upon the singular situation I was in, and they agreed in opinion, that it was indispensable that I should make a speech, and that it should be as complimentary as possible. All this was parallel to the advice lately given by the count de Ver- gennes to Mr. Jefferson. So that, finding it was a custom estab- lished at both these great courts, and that this court and the foreign ministers expected it, I thought I could not avoid it, although my first thought and inclination had been, to deliver my credentials silently and retire. At one, on Wednesday the first of June, the master of ceremonies called at my house, and went with me to the secretary of state's office, in Cleveland Row, where the mar- quis of Carmarthen received me, and introduced me to Mr. Fra- zier, his under secretary, who had been, as his lordship said, unin- terruptedly in that office through all the changes in administration for thirty years. After a short conversation upon the subject of importing my effects from Holland and France, free of duty, which Mr. Frazier himself introduced, lord Carmarthen invited me to go with him in his coach to court. When we arrived in the anti- chamber, the master of the ceremonies met me, and attended me, while the secretary of state went to take the commands of the king. While I stood in this place, where it seems all ministers stand on such occasions, always attended by the master of cere- monies, the room very full of courtiers, as well as the next room, you may well suppose that I was the focus of all eyes. I was relieved, however, from the embarrassment of it, by the Swedish and Dutch ministers, who came to me and entertained me ia a very agreeable conversation during the whole time. Some other gentlemen whom I had seen before, came to make their compli- ments too, until the marquis of Carmarthen returned, and desired •me to go with him to his majesty. 486 JOHN ADAMS. "I went with his lordship through the levee room into the king's closet; the door was shut, and I was left with his majesty and the secretary of state alone. I made the three reverences, one at the door, another about half way, and the third before the presence, according to the usage established at this and all the northern courts of Europe, and then addressed myself to his majesty in the following words : — Sir, the United States have appointed me their minister plenipotentiary to your majesty, and have directed me to deliver to your majesty this letter, which contains the evidence of it. It is in obedience to their express commands, that I have the honor to assure your majesty of their unanimous disposition and de- sire to cultivate the most friendly and liberal intercourse between your majesty's subjects and their citizens, and their best wishes for your majesty's health and happiness, and for that of your royal family. "The appointment of a minister from the United States to your majesty's court, will form an epoch in the history of England and America. I think myself more fortunate than all my fellow citi- zens, in having the distinguished honor to be the first to stand in your majesty's royal presence in a diplomatic character; and 1 shall esteem myself the happiest of men, if I can be instrumen- tal in recommending my country more and more to your majesty's royal benevolence, and of restoring an entire esteem, confidence, and affection, or in better words, 'the old good nature, and the old good humor,' between people who, though separated by an ocean, and under different governments, have the same language, a sim- ilar religion, and kindred blood. I beg your majesty's permission to add, that although I have sometimes before been entrusted by my country, it was never, in my whole life, in a manner so agree- able to myself.' " "The king listened to every word I said, with dignity, it is true, but with an apparent emotion. Whether it was the nature of the interview, or whether it was my visible agitation, for I felt more than I did or could express, that touched him, I cannot say, but he was much affected, and answered me with more tremor than I had spoken with, and said : "Sir, the circumstances of this audience are so extraordinary, the language you have now held is so extremely proper, and the JOHN ADAMS. 487/ feelings you have discovered so justly adapted to the occasion, that I must say? that I not only receive with pleasure the assurances of the friendly disposition of the people of the United States, but that I am very glad the choice has fallen upon you to be their minister. I wish you, sir, to believe, and that it may be under- stood in America, that I have done nothing in the late contest but what I thought myself indispensably bound to do, by the duty which I owed to my people. I will be very frank with you. I was the last to conform to the separation ; but the separation hav- ing been made, and having become inevitable, I have always said, as I say now, that I would be the first to meet the friendship of the United States, as an independent power. The moment I see such sentiments and language as yours prevail, and a disposition to give this country the preference, that moment I shall say, let the circumstances of language, religion, and blood, have their natural and full effect.' "I dare not say that these were the king's precise words, and it is even possible that I may have, in some particular, mistaken his meaning ; for although his pronunciation is as distinct as I ever heard, he hesitated sometimes between his periods, and between the members of the same period. He was, indeed, much affected, and I was not less so; and, therefore, I cannot be certain that I was so attentive, heard so clearly, and understood so perfectly, as to be confident of all his words or sense ; this I do say, that the foregoing is his majesty's meaning, as I then understood it, and his own words, as nearly as I can recollect." The year following, 1788, Mr. Adams requested permission to resign his office, which, being granted, after an absence of be- tween eight and nine years, he returned to his native country. — The new government was, at the time, about going into operation. In the autumn of 1788, he was elected vice president of the United States, a situation which he filled with reputation for eight years. —On the retirement of general Washington from the presidency, in 1796, Mr. Adams was a candidate for that elevated station. — At this time, two parties had been formed in the United States. — At the head of one stood Mr. Hamilton and Mr. Adams, and at the head of the other stood Mr. Jefferson. After a close contest between these two parties, Mr. Adams was elected president, hav 488 JOHN ADAljIS. ing received seventy-one of the electoral votes, and Mr. Jeffers&n sixt^'-eight. In March, 1797, these gentlemen entered upon their respective offices of president and vice president of the U. States- Of the administration of Mr. Adams we shall not, in this place, give a detailed account. Many circumstances conspired to ren- der it unpopular. An unhappy dispute with France had arisen a little previously to his inauguration. In the management of this dispute, which had reference to aggressions by France upon A- merican rights and commerce, the popularity of Mr. Adams was in no small degree affected, although the measures which he re- commended for upholding the national character, were more mod" erate than congress, and a respectable portion of the people, thought the exigencies of the case required. Other circumstan- ces, also, conspired to diminish his popularity. Restraints were imposed upon the press,, and authority vested in the president to order aliens to depart out of the United States^ when he should judge the peace and safety of the country required. To these measures, acts were added for raising a standing army, and impos- ing a direct tax and internal duties. These, and other causes, combined to weaken the strength of the party to whom he owed his elevation, and to prevent his re-election. He was succeeded by Mr. Jefferson, in 1801. On retiring from the presidency he removed to his former resi- dence at Quincy, where, in quiet, he spent the remainder of his days. In 1805, he voted as elector of president and vice presi- dent; and, in the same year, at the advanced age of 85, he was a member of the convention of Massachusetts, assembled to revise the constitution of that commonwealth. Mr. Adams retained the faculties of his mind, in remarkable perfection, to the end of his long life. His unabated love of read- ing and contemplation, added to an interesting circle of friendship and affection, were sources of felicity in declining years, which seldom fall to the lot of any one. "But," to use the language of a distinguished eulogist, (Web- ster,) "he had other enjoyments. He saw around him that pros- perity and general happiness, which had been the object of his public cares and labors. No man ever beheld more clearly, and for a longer time, the great and beneficial effects of the services JOHN ADAMS. 480 rendered by himself to his country. That- liberty, which he so early defendqd, that independence of which he was so able an ad- vocate and supporter, he saw, we trust, firmly and securely estab- lished. The population of the country thickened around him fas- ter, and extended wider, than his own sanguine predictions had anticipated ; and the wealth, respectabilitj', and power of the na- tion, sprang up to a magnitude, which it is quite impossible he could have expected to witness, in his day. He lived, also, to be- hold those principles of civil freedom, which had been developed, established, and practically applied in America, attract attention, command respect, and awaken imitation, in other regions of the globe: and well might, and well did he exclaim, 'where will the consequences of the Anierican revolution end'.' " "If any thing yet remains to fill this cup of happiness, let it be idded, that he lived to see a great and intelligent people bestow the highest honor in their gift, where he had bestowed his own kindest parental affections, and lodged his fondest hopes. "At length the day approached wheji this eminent patriot was to be summoned to another world,- and as if to render that day forever memoi'able in the annals of American history, it was the day on which the illustrious Jefferson was himself, also to termi- nate his distinguished earthly career. That day was the fiftietli anniversary of the declaration of independence. '•Until within a few days previous, Mr. Adams had exhibited no indications of a rapid decline. The morning of the 4th of July, 1826, he was unable to rise from his bed. Neither to himself or • his friends, however, was his dissolution supposed to be so near. He was asked to suggest a toast, appropriate to the celebration of the day. His mind seemed to glance back to the hour in which, fifty years before, he had voted for the declaration of indepen- dence, and whh the spirit with which he then raised his hand, he now exclaimed, 'Independence forever.' At. four o'clock in the afternoon he expired. Mr. Jefferson had departed a few hours before him." We close this imperfect sketch of the life of this distinguished man in the language of one (J. Q. Adams,) who, from the relation in which he stood to the subject of this memoir, must have felt, " more than any other individual, the impressiveness of the event. 42* 490 THOMAS JEFFERSON. "They,(Mr. Adams and Mr. Jefferson,) departed cheered by the ben- ediction of their country, to whom they left the inheritance of their fame, and the memory of their bright example. If we turn our thoughts to the condition of their country, in the contrast of the first and last day of that half century, how resplendent and sub- lime is the transition from gloom to glory ! Then, glancing through the same lapse of time, in the condition of the individuals, we see the first day marked with the fulness and vigor of youth, in the pledge of their lives, their fortunes, and their sacred honor to the cause of freedom and of mankind. And on the last, extended on the bed of death, with but sense and sensibility left to breathe a last aspiration to heaven of blessings upon their country; may we not humbly hope, that to them, too, it was a pledge of transition from gloom to glory ; and that while their mortal vestments were sinking to llie clod of the valley, their emancipated spirits were ascending to the bosom of their God!" THOMAS JEFFERSON. Tho3ias Jefferson was born in Shadwell, in Albemarle county. Virginia, on the second day of April, 1743, old style. Of the early incidents of his life, but little is known. He was entered, while a youth, a student in the college of William and Mary, in Willianisburgh : yet the precise standing which he oc- cupied among his literary associates, is probably now lost. He doubtless, however, left the college with no inconsiderable repu- tation. He appears to have been imbued with an early love of let- ters and science, and to have cherished a strong disposition to the physical sciences especially; and to ancient classical literature, he is understood to have had a warm attachment, and never to have lost sight of them, in the midst of the busiest occupations. On leaving the college, he applied himself to the study of the law under the tuition of George Wythe. In the office of this dis- tinguished man, he acquired that unrivalled neatness, system, and method in business, which through all his future life, and in every office that he filled, gave him so much power and despatch. Under the direction of his distinguished preceptor, he became intimately r.cquainted with the whole round of the civil and common law. From the same distinguished example he caught that untiring spirit THOMAS JEFFERSOX. 491 of investigation, which never left a subject till he had searched it to the very foundation. In short, Mr. Wythe performed for him, as one of his eulogists remarks, what Jeremy Gridley did for his great rival, Mr. Adams ; he placed on his head the crown of legal preparation, and well did it become him. For his able legal preceptor, Mr. Jefferson always entertained the greatest respect and friendship. Indeed, the attachment of preceptor and pupil was mutual, and for a long series of years con- tinued to acquire strength and stability. At the close of his life, in 1806, it was found that Mr. Wythe had bequeathed his library and philosophical apparatus to his pupil, as a testimony of the esti- mation in which he was held by his early preceptor and aged friend. Mr. Jefferson was called to the bar in the year 1766. With the advantages which he had enjoyed with respect to legal preparation, it might naturally be expected that he would appear with distin- guished credit in the practice of his profession. The standing which he occupied at the bar, may be gathered from the following account, the production of the biographer of Patrick Henry: "It has been thought that Mr. Jefferson made no figure at the bar: but the case was tar otherwise. There are still extant, in his own fair and neat hand, in the manner of his master, a number of ar- guments, which were delivered by him at the bar, upon some of the most intricate questions of tlie law ; which if they should ever see the light, will vindicate his claim to the first honors of the pro- fession. ' It is true, he was not distinguished in popular debate; why he was not so, has often befen matter of surprise to those who have seen his eloquence on paper, and heard it in conversation. He had all the attributes of the mind, and the heart, and the soul, which are essential to eloquence of the highest order. The only defect was a physical one : he wanted volume and compass of voice, for a large deliberative assembly ,' and his voice from the excess of his sensibility, instead of rising with his feelings and conceptions, - sunk under their pressure, and became guttural and inarticulate. The consciousness of this infirmity, repressed any attempt in a large body, in which he knew he must fail. But his voice was all sufficient for the purposes of judicial debate; and there is no reason to doubt that if the sei'vices of his country had not called him away 492 THOMAS JEFFERSON. SO soon frotn his profession, his fame as a lawyer would now hav e stood upon the same distinguished ground, which he confessedly occupied as a statesman, an author, and a scholar." The year previous to Mr. Jefferson's admission to the bar, Mr, Henry introduced into the Virginia house of burgesses, then sit- ting at Williamsburgh, his celebrated resolutions against the stamp act. Mr, Jefferson was, at this time, present at the debate. "He was then," he says, "but a student, and stood in the door of com- munication, between the house and the lobby, where he heard the whole of this magnificent debate. The opposition to the last reso- lution was most vehement; the debate upon it, to use his own strong language, 'most bloody; but,' he adds, 'torrents of sublime elo- quence from Henry, backed by the solid reasoning of Johnson, prevailed; and.the resolution was carried by a single vote.' "I well remember," he continues, "the cry of 'treason,' by the speak- er, echoed from every part of the house, against Mr. Henry : I well remember his pause, and the admirable address with which he recovered himself, and baffled the charge thus vociferated." He here alludes to that memorable exclamation of Mr. Henry, now become almost too familiar for quotation : "Caesar had his Brutus, Charles the First his Cromwell, and George the Third ('treason !' cried the speaker ; 'treason ! treason !' echoed the house ;) may profit by their example. If this be treason, make the most of it." The talents of Mr. Jefferson, which were early well known. ])ermitted him not long to remain in a private station, or fo pursue the ordinary routine of his profession. A career of more exten- sive usefulness, and objects of greater importance, were now pre- sented to him. His country demanded his services; and at the early age of twenty-five, that is, in the year 1769, he entered the house of burgesses in Virginia, and then first inscribed his name as a champion of his country's rights. At a former period, the attachment of the American colonies to England was like that of an affectionate child towards a venerable parent. In Virginia, this attachment was unusually strong. Va- rious circumstances combined to render it so. Many of the fami- lies of that province were allied to distinguished families in En- gland, and the sons of the former sought their education in the THOMAS JEITEB?orf. 493 universities of the mother country. It was not singular, therefore^ that a strong affection should exist, on the part of tliis colony, for the people in England, nor that the people of the colonies general- ly, should have come to the severance of these ties with peculiar reluctance. Resistance, however, was at length forced upon them by the rash course pursued by the British ministry. The rights cf the colonies were invaded; their choicest privileges were taken away, and loudly were the patriots of America called upon, by the sufferings of the country, to awake to a strong and effectual re- sistance. At this time, Mr. Jefferson commenced his political ca- reer, and has himself given us, in few words, an outline of the reeisons which powerfully impelled him to enter the lists, with other American patriots, against the parent countr}'. "The colonies," says he, "were taxed internally and externally ; their essential interests sacrificed to individuals in Great Britain ; their legislatures suspended; charters annulled: trials by jurors ta- ken away; their persons subjected to transportation across the At- lantic, and to trial by foreign judicatories; their supplications for redress thought beneath answer; themselves published as cowards in the councils of their mother country, and courts of Europe; armed troops sent among them, to enforce submission to these vio- lences; and actual hostilities commenced against them. No alter- native was presented, but resistance or unconditional submission. Between these there could be no hesitation. They closed in the appeal to arms."' In the year 1773, Mr. Jefferson became a member of the first committee of correspondence, established by the provincial assem- blies. We have already noticed the claim which Virginia and Massachusetts have respectively urged, to the honor of having first suggested this important measure in the revolution. Both, probably, in respect to this, are entitled to equal credit; but to whomsoever the credit belongs, that honor is, indeed, great, since this measure, more than most others contributed that union of ac- tion and sentiment, which characterised the proceeding of the sev- eral colonies, and which was the foundation of their final triumph over an ancient and powerful kingdom. In 17^4, Mr. Jefferson published a "Summary- View of the Rights of British America," a valuable production among those 494 THOMAS JEFFERSON, intended to show the dangers which threatened the Uberties of the country, and to encourage the people in their defence. This pamphlet was addressed to the king, whom, in language respectful but bold, it reminded that America was settled by British free- men, whose rights had been violated ; upon whom the hand of ty- ranny was thus heavily lying, and from the sufferings which they were experiencing, they must be, and they would be free. The bold and independent language of this pamphlet gave great umbrage to lord Dunmore, the royal governor of the province. Mr. Jefferson on avowing himself the author of the pamphlet, was threatened with a prosecution for high treason, by the governor; a threat, which he probably would have carried into effect, could he have hoped that the vindictive measm*e would succeed. In the following year, 1775, Mr. Jefferson was selected by the Virginia legislature to answer lord North's famous "Conciliatory proposition," called in the language of the day, his "Olive branch ;" but it was an olive branch that concealed a serpent; or, as the former president Adams observed, "it was an asp in a basket of flowers." The task assigned him, was performed by Mr. Jeffer- son in a manner the most happy and satisfactory. The reply was cool, and calm, and close — marked with uncommon energy and keen sagacity. The document may be found in most of the his- tories of that period, and is manifestly one of the most nervous and manly productions of that day. It concluded with the following strong and independent language : "These, my lord are sentiments on this important subject, which we ofTer only as an individual part of the whole empire. Final determination we leave to the general congress, now sitting, be- fore whom we shall lay the papers your lordship has communica- ted to us. For ourselves we have exhausted every mode of ap- plication, which our invention could suggest as proper and promis- ing. We have decently remonstrated with parliament — they have added new injuries to the old; we have wearied our king with sup- plications — he has not deigned to answer us; we have appealed to the native honor and justice of the British nation — their efforts in our favor have hitherto been ineffectual. What then remains to be done? That we commit our injuries to the even-handed jus- tice of that Being, who doeth no wrong, earnestly beseeching Him THOMAS JEFFERSON. 495 to illuminate the councils, and prosper the endeavors of those to whom America hath confided her hopes; that through their wise directions, we may again see re-united the blessings of liberty, prosperity and harmony with Great Britain." In the month of June, 1775, Mr. Jefferson appeared and took his seat in the continental congress, as a delegate from Virginia. In this enlightened assembly, he soon became conspicuous among the most distinguished for their ability and patriotism. He was appointed on various important committees^ towards the discharge of whose duties he contributed his full share. The cause of lib- erty lay near his heart, nor did he hesitate to incur all necessary hazard in maintaining and defending it. Antecedently to the year 1776, a dissolution of the union with Great Britain had not been contemplated, either by congress or the nation. During the spring of that year, however, the question of independence became one of deep and solemn reflection among the American people. It was perceived by many in all parts of the land, that the hope of reconciliation with the parent country was clearly at an end. It was, indeed, an unequal contest, in which the colonies were engaged. It was a measure of unexam- pled boldness, which they were contemplating; a step, which, should it not receive the smiles of a propitious Providence, would evidently involve them and their posterity in calamities, the full measure and duration of which no political prophet could foretel. But, then, it was a measure rendered necessary by the oppression which they were suffering. The "shadows, clouds, and darkness," which rested on the future, did not deter them. The language which they adopted, and the feelings which they indulged, were the language and feelings of the patriotic Hawley, who said, "we must put to sea — Providence will bring us into port." It was fortunate for the cause of America, and for the cause of freedom, that there was a class of men at that day, who were ad- equate to the high and mighty enterprise of sundering the ties which bound the colonies. For this they were doubtless specially raised up by the God of heaven ; for this they were prepared by the lofty energies of their minds, and by that boldness and intre- pidity of character, which, perhaps, never so signally marked another generation of men. 496 THOMAS JEFFERSON. The measure thus determined upon was, at length, brought forward in the continental congress. When it was resolved to sssue a declaration of independence, Thomas Jefferson was placed at the head of the committee appointed to prepare that important instrument. He was at this time but thirty-two years of age, and was probably the youngest member of the committee, and one of the youngest men in the house, for he had only served part of the former session. To Mr. Jefferson the important duty of preparing the draught of the document was assigned. It was a task of no ordinary magnitude, and demanded the exercise of no common judgment and foresight. By the act itself, a nation was to stand or fall. Nay, in its effects, it was to exercise a powerful influence upon other nations of the globe, and might extend forward to the end of time. To frame a document, which should precisely meet the exigencies of the case — which should set forth the causes of complaint, according to truth — which should abide the scrutiny of enemies at home and abroad — which should stand the test of time, especially of a day which would come, when the high-wrought excitement, then existing, would have subsided — /Aw was no ordi- nary task. Indeed, there were few minds, even at that day, which would have felt adequate to the undertaking. From his study, Mr. Jefferson at length presented to his col- Jeagues the original draught. A few changes only, in the docu- ment, were suggested by two of them. Dr. Franklin and Mr. Adams. The whole merit of the paper was Mr. Jefferson's. On being reported to congress, it underwent a few other slight alter- ations ; none of which, however, altered the tone, the frame, the arrangement, or the general character of the instrument. "It has sometimes been said," observes an eloquent writer, "as if it were a derogation from the merits of this paper, that it con- tains nothing new; that it only states grounds for proceedings, and presses topics of argument, which had often been stated and pressed before. But it was not the object of the declaration to produce any thing new. It was not to invent reasons for inde- pendence, but to state those which governed the congress. For great and sufficient reasons, it was proposed to declare independ- ence ; and the proper business of the paper to be drawn, was, to set forth those causes, and justify the authors of the measure, i^ THOMAS JEFFERSOK, 497 ^ny event or fortune, to the country and to posterity. The cause of American independence, moreover, was now to be presented to the world in such a manner, if it might so be, as to engage its sympathy, to command its respect, to attract its admiration; and in an assembly of most able and distinguished men, Thomas Jef- ferson had the high honor of being the selected advocate of this cause. To say that he performed his great work well, would be doing him injustice. To say that he did excellently well, admirably well, would be inadequate and halting praise. Let us rather say, that he so discharged the duty assigned him, that all Americans may well rejoice that the work of drawing the title deed of their hberties, devolved on his hands." In 1778, Mr. Jefferson was appointed by congress, in conjunc- tion with Dr. Franklin and Silas Deane, a commissioner to France, for the purpose of forming a treaty of alliance and commerce with that nation. In consequence, however, of ill health, and impressed with the conviction that he could be of greater service to his coun- try, and especially to his state, by continuing at home, he declined accepting the office, and Arthur Lee was appointed in his place. Between 1777 and 1779, Mr. Jefferson was appointed, con- jointly with George Wythe and Edmund Pendleton, on a commis- sion for revising the laws of Virginia. This was an arduous service, requiring no less than one hundred and twenty-six bills, which were drawn by these gentlemen, and which, for simplicity and perspicuity, have seldom been excelled. In respect to Mr. Jefferson, it should be noticed, that, besides the laborious share which he took in revising the laws of the state, to him belongs the honor of having first proposed the important laws in the Virginia code, forbidding the importation of slaves; converting estates tail into fees simple ; annulling the rights of primogeniture ; establish- ing schools for general education, and confirming the rights of freedom in religious opinion, with many others. In 1779, Patrick Henry, who was the first republican governor, vmder the renovated constitution, and the successor of the earl of Dunmore, having served his appointed term, retired from that office, upon which Mr. Jefferson was chosen to succeed him. To this office he was re-elected the following year, and continued irj office until June 1781. 43 498 THOWL\S JEFFERSON. The administration of Mr. Jefferson, as governor of Virginia, during the above term, was arduous and difficult. The revolution- ary struggle was progressing, and the southern states were parti- cularly the theatre of hostile operations. At tliree several times, during his magistracy, the state of Virginia was invaded by the enemy; the first time, in the spring of 1780, by the ferocious gen«- eral Tarlton, whose mihtary movements were characterised by unusual barbarity, and who was followed in the invasion by the jmain army under lord Cornwallis. While the eyes of all were directed to these military movements in the south, the state expor rienced a still more unexpected and disastrous attack, from a body of troops under the guidance of the infamous Arnold, whom treach- ery had rendered moi-e daring and more vindictive. fn respect to preparations for hostilities within her own limits, the state of Virginia vvas sadly deficient ; nor had the habits and pursuits of Mr. Jefferson been of a kind which fitted him for mili- tary enterprise. Aware, however, of the necessity of energy and /exertion, in this season of danger and general distress, he ap- plied his mind, with alacrity and ardor, to meet the exigencies of the case. Scarcely had Arnold left the coast, when Cornwallis entered the state on its southern border. At this time the condi- tion of Virginia was extremely distressing. She was wholly un- prepared : her troops were fighting in remote parts of the country ; she had few military stores; and, to add to her distress, her fi- nances were exhausted. On the approach of Arnold, in January, the general assembly had hastily adjourned, to meet again at Charlottesville, on the 24th of May. In the mean time a most anxious part devolved upon the gov- ernor. He had few resources, and was obliged to depend, in a great measure, upon his personal influence, to obtain the munitions of war, and to raise and set in motion troops from different parts of the state. The various expedients which he adopted, were indicative of much sagacity, and were attended by success highly important to the common cause. — On the 24th of May, the legis- lature was to meet at Charlottesville. They were not formed for business, however, until the 28th ; a few days following which, the term for which Mr. Jefferson had been elected expired, and lie again found himself a private citizen. THOMAS JEFFERSON. 499 On leaving the chair of state, Mr. Jefferson retired to Monticel- io, when intelligence was received, two days after, that a body of troops under command of general Tarlton, were rapidly hasten- ing to Charlottesville, for the purpose of surprising and capturing the members of the assembly. They had only time, after the alarm was given, to adjourn to meet at Staunton, and to disperse, before the enemy entered the village. Another party had direct- ed their course to Monticello to capture the ex-governor. Fortu- nately, an express hastened from Charlottesville, to convey intel- ligence to Mr. JefTerson of their approach. Scarcely had the family time to make arrangements, indispensabje for their depar- ture, and to effect their escape, before the enemy were seen as. cending the hill, leading to the mansion-house. Mr. Jefferson himself, mounting his horse, narrowly escaped, by taking a course through the woods. Agreeably to their appointment, the legislature assembled at Staunton on the 7th, soon after which, at the instigation of Mr. George Nicholas, an inquiry was moved into the conduct of Mr. Jefferson in respect to remissness in the discharge of his duty, at the time of Arnold's invasion. The ensuing session of the legis- lature was fixed upon for the investigation of the charges. At the arrival of the appointed time^ Mr. Nicholas had become con- vinced that the charges were without foundation, and this impres- sion having generally obtained, no one appeared to bring forward the investigation. Upon this, Mr. Jefferson, who had been returned a member of the assembly, rose in his place, and entered into a justification of his conduct. His statement was calm, lucid, and convincing. On concluding it, the house unanimously adopted the following resolution : "Resolved, That the sincere thanks of the general assembly be given to our former governor, Thomas Jefferson, for his impar- tial, upright and attentive adminisi ration, whilst in office. The as- sembly wish, in the strongest manner, to declare the high opinion they entertain of Mr. Jefferson's ability, rectitude, and integrity, as chief magistrate of this commonwealth; and mean, by thus pub- licly avowing their opinion, to obviate and to remove all unmerited censure." To this it may be added, that Mr. Nicholas, some time after, 500 THOMAS JEFFERSON. did Mr. Jefferson the justice to acknowlege, in a public manner,, the erroneous views which he had entertained^ and to express his regret that more correct information had not been obtained, befiire the accusation had been brought forward. In the year 1781, Mr. Jefferson composed his "Notes on Vir- ginia," a work which grew out of a number of questions,.proposed to him by M. De Marbois, the secretary of the French legation in the United States. It embraced a general view of the geography of Virginia, its natural productions, statistics, government, history, and laws. In 1786, Mr. Jefferson published the work under his own signature. It attracted much attention in Europe, as well as in America ; dispelled many misconceptions respecting this conti- nent, and gave its author a place among men distinguished for science. It is still admired, for the happy simplicity of its style> and for the extent and variety of its information. In 1782, Mr. Jefferson received the appointment of minister plenipotentiary, to join commissioners already in Europe, to settl© the conditions of peace between the United States and Great Britain „ Before his embarkation, however, intelligence was received, that the preliminaries of peace had been signed. The necessity of his mission being removed, congress dispensed with his leaving America. In November, 1783, he again took his seat in the continental congi'ess • but in May following, was appointed minister plenipo- tentiary to act abroad in the negotiations of commercial treaties, in conjunction with Dr. Franklin and Mr. Adams. In the month of July, Mr. Jefferson sailed for France, and joined the other commissioners at Paris,^ in August. Although ample powers had been imparted to the commissioners.^ they were not as successful in forming commercial treaties as had been expected. It was of great importance to the Unhed States to effect a treaty of this kind with Great Britain, and for this pur- pose Mr. Jefferson and Adams proceeded to London. In this im- portant object they failed, owing, probably, to the hostile feelings which the ministry indulged towards America, and to the wounded pride which still rankled in their breasts j and, moreover, to a sel- fish policy which they had adopted in respect to their navigation system, by which they intended to increase their own navigation rHOMAS JEFFERSON. 501 at the expense of other nations, and especially of the United States. The only treaties which the commissioners were at this time able to negotiate, were with Morocco and Prussia. In 1785, Mr. Jefferson was appointed to succeed Dr. Franklin as minister plenipotentiary to the court of Versailles. The duties of this station he continued to perform until October, 1789, when he obtained leave to retire, just on the eve of that tremendous revo- lution which has so much agitated the world in our times. The discharge of Mr. Jefferson's diplomatic duties while abroad "was marked by great ability, diligence, and patriotism : and while he resided at Paris, in one of .the ntosfinteresting periods, his char- acter for intelligence, his love of knowledge, and of the society of learned men, distinguished him in the highest circles of the French capital. No court in Europe had, at that time, in Paris, a repre- sentative commanding or enjoying higher regard for political knowledge, or for general attainment, than the minister of this then infant republic." During his residence in France, Mr. Jefferson found leisure to visit both Holland and Itah'. In both countries he was received with the respect and attention due to his official station, as the min- ister of a rising republic, and as a man of learning and science. In the year 1789, he returned to his native country. His tal- ents and experience recommended him to president Washington for the first office in his gift. He was accordingly placed at the head of the department of state, and immediately entered on the arduous duties of that important station. Soon after Mr. Jefferson entered on the duties of this office, con- gress directed him to prepare and report a plan for establishing a uniform system of currency, weights and measures. This was followed, at a subsequent day, by reports on the subject of tonnage duties payable by France, and on the subject of the cod and whale fisheries. Each of these reports displayed the usual accuracy, in- formation and intelligence of the writer. Towards the close of the year 1791, the relation of the United States to several countries abroad, became embarrassing, and gave occasion to Mr. Jefferson to exercise those talents of a diplomatic character, with which he was pre-eminently endowed. "His cor- respondence with the ministers of other powers residing here, and 43* 502 THOMAS JEFFERSON. his instructions to our own diplomatic agents abroad ; are among our ablest state papers. A thorough knowledge of the laws and usages of nations, perfect acquaintance with the immediate subject before him, great felicity, and still greater facility, in writing, show themselves in whatever effort his official situation called on him to make. It is believed by competent judges, that the diplo- matic intercourse of the government of the United States, from the first meeting of the continental congress in 1774, to the present time, taken together, would not suffer, in respect to the talent with which it has been conducted, by comparison with any thing which other and older states can produce ; and to the attainment of this respectability and distinction, Mr. Jefferson has contributed his full part." On the 16th of December, 1793, Mr. Jefferson communicated his last official report to congress, on the nature and extent of the privileges and restrictions on the commerce of the United States in foreign countries, and the measures which he deemed important to be adopted by the United States, for the improvement of their commerce and navigation. This report, which has ever been considered as one of primary importance, gave rise to a long and interesting discussion in the national legislature. In regard to the measures recommended in the report, a wide difference prevailed in congress, among the two great parties, into which that body had become obviously and per- manently divided. Indeed, it may be said to have been this report, which finally separated the statesmen of the country into two great political parties which have existed almost to the present time. On the 31st of December, 1793, Mr. Jefferson tendered his re- signation as secretary of state, and again retired to private life. The interval which elapsed between his resignation of the above ■ fffice, and his being summoned again to the councils of the nation, he employed in a manner most delightful to himself, viz: in the education of his fanlily, the management of his estate, and the pursuit of philosophical studies, to the latter of which, though long neglected, in his devotion to higher duties, he returned with re- newed ardor. The attachment of a large proportion of his fellow-citizens, THOMAS JEFFERSON. 503 Avhich Mr. Jefferson carried with him into his seclusion, did not allow him long to enjoy the pleasures of a private life, to which he appears to have been sincerely devoted.. General Washing- ton had for some time determined upon a relinquishment of the presidential chair, and in his farewell address, in the month of September, 1796, announced that intention. This distinguished man, having thus withdrawn himself, the two political parties brought forward their respective candidates, Mr. Adams and Mr. Jefferson. On counting the votes in February, 1797, in the pre- sence of both houses of congress, it was found that Mr. Adams was elected president^he having the highest number of votes, and Mr. Jefferson vice-president, upon which respective offices they entered on the following 4th of March. In the life of Mr. Adams, we had occasion to allude to the un- settled state of the country, and the general dissatisfaction with his administration, which prevailed. During this period, however, Mr. Jefferson resided chiefly at Monticello, pursuing the peaceful and noiseless occupations of private life. The time at length ap- proached for a new election of president. Mr. Jefferson was again proposed by the republican party as a candidate for that of- fice. The candidate of the federal party was Mr. Adams. On the eleventh of February, 1801, the votes were counted in the presence of both houses of congress, and the result declared by the vice-president to be, for Thomas Jefferson seventy-three ; for Aaron Burr seventy-three ; John Adams sixty -five ; C. C. Pinck- ney sixty-four; and John Jay one. The vice-president then, in pursuance of the duty enjoined up- on him, declared that Thomas Jefferson and Aaron Burr, having an equal number of votes, it remained for the house of represen- tatives to determine the choice. Upon this, the two houses sep- arated, "and the house of representatives returned to their cham- ber, where seats had been previously prepared for the members of the senate. A call of the members of the house, arranged according to states, was then made ; upon which it appeared that every member was present, except general Sumpter, who was un- well, but attended, and had a bed prepared for him in one of the committee rooms, to which place the ballot box was carried to him, by the tellers, appointed on the part of the state. 504 THOMAS JEFFERSON. "The first ballot was eight states for Mr. Jefferson, six for Mr. Burr and two divided ; which result continued to be the same af- ter balloting thirty-five times." Thus stood affairs, after a long and even distressing contest, when a member of the house, (general Smith,) communicated to the house the following extract of a letter from Burr : "It is highly improbable that I shall have an equal number of votes with Mr. Jefferson : but if such should be the result, every man who knows me, ought to know that I would utterly disclaim all compe- tition. Be assured that the federal party can entertain no wish forsuch an exchange. "As to my friends, they would dishonor my views, and insult my feelings, by a suspicion that I would submit to be instrumen- tal in counteracting the wishes and expectations of the United States ; and I now constitute you my proxy to declare these senti- ments, if the occasion shall require." This avowal of the wishes of Mr. Burr, induced two federal members to withdraw ; in consequence of which, on the thirty- sixth balloting, Mr. Jefferson was elected president. Colonel Burr, by the provision of the constitution, became of course vice- president. On the 4th of March, 1801, Mr. Jefferson, agreeably to the constitution, took the oath of office, in the presence of both houses of congress, on which occasion he delivered his inaugural address. In this address, after expressing his diffidence in his powers, satisfactorily to discharge the duties of the high and responsible office assigned him, he proceeded to state the principles by which his administration would be governed. These were "equal and exact justice to all men, of whatever state or persuasion, religi- ous or political : peace, commerce and honest friendship with all nations, entangling alliances with none : the support of the state governments in all their rights, as the competent administration for our domestic concerns, and the surest bulwarks against anti-re- publican tendencies : the preservation of the general government in its whole constitutional vigor, as the sheet anchor of our peace at home, and safety abroad : a jealous care of the right of election by the people, a mild and safe corrective of abuses which are lopped by the sword of revolution, where peaceable remedies are THOMAS JEFFERSON. 505 unprovided : absolute acquiescence in the decisions of the major- ity, the vital principle of republics, from which is no appeal but to force, the vital principle and immediate parent of despotisms : a well disciplined militia, our best reliance in peace, and for the first moments of war, till regulars may relieve them: the supre- macy of the civil over the military authority : economy in the public expense, that labor may be lightly burthened : the honest payment of our debts, and sacred preservation of the public faith : encouragement of agriculture, and of commerce as its hand-maid : the diffusion of information, and arraignment of all abuses at the bar of public reason : freedom of religion : freedom of the press : and freedom of person, under the protection of the habeas cor- pus: and trial by juries impartially selected. These principles," added Mr. Jefferson, "should be the creed of our political faith ; and should we wander from them in moments of error or of alarm, let us hasten to retrace our steps, and to regain the road which alone leads to peace, liberty and safety." To enter into a minute detail of the administratioaofTVIr. Jeffer- son, would neither comport with the duties of a biographer, nor with the limits which must necessarily be prescribed to the present sketch. At a future day, more distant by far than the present > when the remembrance of political asperities shall have passed away, can exact justice be done to Mr. Jefferson and his adminis- tration. That he was a distinguished man, distinguished as a statesman, none can deny. But as the measures of his adminis- tration were called in question, in respect to theii" policy^ and as the day of excitement has scarcely passed by, it is deemed more judicious to leave the subject to the research and deliberation of the future historian, than, in this place, to attempt to settle ques- tions, about which there were, while he lived, and still may exist, an honest difierence of opinion. On the meeting of congress in December, 1801, Mr. Jefferson, varying from the practice of the former presidents, communicated a message to congress, instead of delivering a speech in person. The change in this respect thus introduced was obviously so popu- lar and acceptable, that it has been adopted on every subsequent similar occasion. The principal acts w hicli characterised the first term of Mr. 506 THOMAS JEFFERSON. Jefferson's career, were a removal from responsible and lucrative offices of a great portion of those whose political opinions were opposed to his own; the abolition of the internal taxes; reorgan- ization of the judiciary; an extension of the laws relative to nat- uralization; the purchase of Louisiana, and the establishment of commercial and friendly relations with various western tribes of Indians. On the occurrence of a new presidential election, in 1805, the administration of Mr. Jefferson had been so acceptable, that he was re-elected by a majority, not of eight votes, as in the former instance, but by one hundred and forty-eight. Inspired with new zeal by this additional proof of confidence which his fellow-citi- zens had given him, he took occasion, in his second inaugural ad- dress, to assert his determination to abide by those principles upon ' which he had administered the government, and approbation of which, on the part of the people, he read in their re-election of him to the same exalted station. In concluding his inaugural ad- dress, he took occasion to observe : "I do not fear that any motives of interest may lead me astray; I am sensible of no passion which could seduce me knowingly from the path of justice; but the weak*- nes3 of human nature, and the limits of my own understanding,, will produce errors of judgment sometimes injurious to your in- terests; I shall need, therefore, all the indulgence I have hereto- fore experienced ; the want of it will certainly not lessen with in- creasing years. I shall need, too, the favor of that Being in whose hands we are, who led our forefathers, as Israel of old, from their native land, and planted them in a country flowing with ail the necessaries and comforts of life; who has covered our infancy with his providence, and our riper years with his wisdom and {jower." On the second election of Mr. Jefferson to the presidency, the vice-presidency was transferred from Mr. Burr to George Clinton, of New-York. A merited odium has settled upon Mr. Burr, in consequence of his unprincipled duel with general Hamilton, in which the latter gentleman had fallen a victim to murderous re- venge. From this time, Mr. Burr sunk, as it was thought, into final obscurity; but his future conduct showed, that while unob- served by his fellow-citizens, he had been achieving a project, THOMAS JEFFERSON. 507 •which, but for the sagacity and effective measures of Mr. Jeffer- son, might have led even to a dissolution of the union. In the autumn of 1806, the movements of Mr. Burr first at- tracted the notice of government. He had purchased and was building boats on the Ohio, and engaging men to descend that river. His declared purpose was to form a settlement on the banks of the Washita, in Louisiana; but the character of the man, the na- ture of his preparations, and the incautious disclosures of his as- sociates, led to the suspicion that his true object was either to gain possession of New-Orleans, and to erect into a separate gov- ernment the country watered by the Mississippi and its branches, or to invade, from the territories of the United States, the rich Spanish province of Mexico. From the first moment of suspicion, he was closely watched by the agents of the government. At Natchez, while on his way to New-Orleans, he was cited to appear before the supreme court of the Mississippi territory. But he had so enveloped his projects in secresy, that sufHcient evidence to convict him could not be produced, and he was discharged. Hearing, however, that sev- eral persons, suspected of being his accomplices, had been ar- rested at New-Orleans and elsewhere, he fled in disguise from Natchez, was apprehended on the Tombigbee, and conveyed a prisoner to Richmond. Two indictments were found against him, one charging him with treason against the United States, the other with preparing and commencing an expedition against the domin- ions of Spain. In August, 1S07, he was tried upon those indictments before John Marshall, the chief justice of the United States. Full evi- dence of his guilt not being exhibited, he was acquitted by the jury. The people, however, believed him guilty; and by their desertion and contempt he was reduced to a condition of the most abject wretchedness. The ease with which his plans were de^ feated, demonstrated the strength of the government; and his fate will ever be an impressive warning to those who, in a free coun- try, listen to the suggestions of criminal ambition. While these domestic troubles were, in a measure, agitating the country, questions of still greater importance were engaging the attention of the government in respect to our foreign relations. — 508 THOMAS JEFFERSON. War was at this time waging between England and France. A- merica, taking advantage of the belligerent state of these king- doms, was advantageously employing herself, as a neutral power, in carrying from port to port the productions of France and her dependent kin!>doms, and also to the ports of those kingdoms the manufactures of England. Great Britain, at this time, and indeed from the peace of 1783, had claimed a right to search for and seize her seamen, even on board of neutral vessels while traversing the ocean. In the exer- cise of this pretended right, many unlawful seizures were made, against vt'hich Washington, Adams, and Jefferson, had successive- ly remonstrated in vain. Added, to this, the Americans were mo- Jested in the carrying trade, their vessels being seized by British cruizers while transporting to the continent the products of the French colonies, and condemned by the English courts as lawful prizes. In May, 1806, were issued the British orders in council, by w^hich several European ports, under the control of France, were declared to be in a state of blockade, although not invested with a British fleet, and American vessels, in attempttng to enter those ports, were captured and condemned. As a measure retaliatory to the above orders in council, the French emperor issued a decree at Berlin, in 1806, declaring the British islands in a state of blockade. In consequence of these measures of the two belligerents, the commerce of the United States severely suffered, and their merchants were loud in their demands on the government for redress and protection. In June, 1807, an act was committed, which raised the indigna- tion of the whole American people, and concentrated upon the British government the whole weight of popular indignation. — This was an attack upon the frigate Chesapeake, just as she was leaving her port for a distant service, by order of a British admiral, in consequence of which three of her men were killed, and four taken away. This outrage occasioned an immediate proclamation on the part of Mr. Jefferson, requiring all British armed vessels immediately to depart from the waters of the United States, and forbidding all such to enter. Instructions were forwarded to the American minister at the court of Great Britain, to demand satisr faction for the insult, and security against future aggression. THOMAS JEFFERSON. 509 Congress was summoned to meet, and decide upon the further measures which should be adopted. In the mean time, the British government promptly disavowed the act of the officer, by whom the above outrage had been committed, and offered reparation for the injuries done, which some time after was carried into eifect. From this time the conduct of the belligerents was such, in re- spect to each other, as to bear oppressively upon the American nation, leaving the government of the latter no other alternative, but abject submission, or decided retaliation. In respect to the latter course, two measures only could be adopted ; a declaration of war, or a suspension of the commerce of the United States. — The latter alternative was adopted, and on the 23d day of Decem- ber 1807, an act passed both houses of congress, laying a general embargo. In respect to the policy of the embargo, the most pro- minent feature in the administration of Mr. Jefferson, different opinions prevailed among the American people. By the admini- stration it was acknowledged to be only an experiment, which, while it showed the spirit of the nation, and operated with no in- considerable severity upon the interests of the belligerents, left the way open to negotiations, or, if necessary, to actual war. Before the result of thai system of measures, which had been recommended by Mr. Jefferson, was fully known, the period ar- rived when a new election to the presidency was to take place. As Mr. Jefferson had reached the age of sixty-five years, forty of which had almost uninterruptedly been devoted to the arduous duties of public life, he was desirous, at the close of his then pre- sidential term, of ending his political career. Having formed this determination, he alluded to it in a message to congress, in the following language : "Availing myself of this, the last occasion which will occur, of addressing the two houses of the legislature at their meeting, I cannot omit the expression of my sincere gra- titude for th^ repeated proofs of confidence manifested to me by themselves and their predecessors, since my call to the adminis- tration, and the many indulgences experienced at their hands. — • *The same grateful acknowledgments are due to ray fellow citizens generally, whose support has been my great encouragement under all embarrassments. In the transaction of their business, I cannot have escaped error. It is incident to .our imperfect nature But 44 510 THOIHAS JEFFERSON. I may say with truth, my errors have been of the understanding, not of intention ; and that the advancement of their rights and interests has been the constant motive of every measure. On these considerations I solicit their indulgence. Looking forward with anxiety to their future destinies, I trust, that in their steady character, unshaken by difficulties ; in their love of liberty, obedi- ence to law, and support of public authorities, I see a sure gua- rantee of the permanence of our republic; and retiring from the charge of their affairs, I carry v/ith me the consolation of a firm persuasion, that heaven has in store for our beloved country, long ages to come of prosperity and happiness." From the time of his retirement from public life, in 1807, Mr. Jefferson I'esided at Monticello, and lived as became a wise man. "Surrounded by affectionate friends, his ardor in the pursuit of knowledge undiminished, with uncommon health, and unbroken spirits, he was able to enjoy largely the rational pleasures of life, and to partake in that public prosperity, which he had so much contributed to produce. His kindness and hospitality, the charm of his conversation, the ease of his manners, the extent of his ac- quirements, and especially the full store of revolutionary incidents which he possessed, and which he knew when and how to dis- pense, rendered his abode, in a high degree, attractive to his ad- miring countrymen, while his high public and scientific character drew towards him every intelligent and educated traveller from abroad." Although Mr. Jefferson had withdrawn from public life, he was still anxious to promote the objects of science, taste, and literature, and especially solicitous to see established a university in his na- tive state. To this object he devoted several years of incessant and anxious attention, and by the enlightened liberality of the legislature of Virginia, and the co-operation of other able and zealous friends, he lived to see it accomplished. It has often been the lot of those who have devoted themselves to the public service, to suffer in the decline of life from the hand of poverty. This was the lot of Mr. Jefferson. His patrimony was originally large, but was unavoidably neglected, in his atten- dance upon the duties of the high official stations which he filled. Partial efforts were made in his native state, and in other parts ROGKR SHERMAN. 511 of the country, to relieve his embarrassments,- but the precise extent of the measures adopted, in reference to this subject, we have not the means of ascertaining. At length, the day on which this illustrious man was to termin- ate his long and useful career, approached. That day, by the appointment of heaven, was to be the fourth of July, 1826. It was a day which, fifty years before, he had helped to make im- mortal,- and at ten minutes before one o'clock, on that day — mem- orable, also, for the departure of his compatriot, Adams — Mr. Jefferson himself expired at Monticello. At this time he had reached the age of eighty -three years, two months, and tvventy- onie days. In stature, he was six feet and two inches hi^h: his person was erect and well formed, though spare. "In a private memorandum found among some other obituary papers and relics of Mr. Jefferson, is a suggestion, in case a mon- ument over him should ever be thought of, that a granite obelisk, of small dimensions, should be erected with the following inscrip- tion : 'Here was buried Thomas Jeffeesox, author of the Decla- ration of Independence, of the statutes of Virginia for religious freedom, and father of the University of Virginia.'" ROGER SHERMAN. I?f a free nation, where the pathway to the highest offices and the most honorable employments, is open to every aspirant, in which there are no legal obstructions to the advancement of the poor more than the rich, it is sometimes the fact, that individual enterprise, and persevering industry, achieve for children of pa- rents in humble life, and limited property, what the sons of the affluent, accommodated with every facility, but wanting enterprise and application, are never able to attain. Instances have existed, and instances do now exist in the United States, in which this remark has been verified; and since the way is equally open to all, and the prize is placed in clear view before them, as a sure rewai"d to all who reach the goal, it may be reasonably expected that many more will hereafter have it verified, as a reward for their honorable exertions. The most distinguished and the most useful men, do not always lay the foundation of their fame and honorable distinction, in the classical halls and lecture rooms of 512 ROGER SHERMAN, an university. Probably there have been but few instances, in which the preceding remarks have been more literally illustrated and verified, than in the one now under consideration. Roger Sherman's ancestor, his great grandfather, John Sherman, came to America, from Dedham, England, and settled at Water- town, Massachusetts, in the year 1635. William Sherman, the grandson of John, and the father of Roger, lived at Newtown, in Massachusetts, where he cultivated his small farm, and thus ob- tained support for his family by honest industry, until 1723, two years after the birth of his son Roger. This took place in New- town, in 1721, on the 19th day of April, In 1723, the family re- moved to Stoughton, in that state. There his father continued his residence until his death in 1741, when the support of the family and the superintendence of its concerns, devolved on Roger; who was the second son of his parents. His elder brother had previ- ously removed to Connecticut, and settled in New-Milford in the county of Litchfield. Roger at the time of his father's decease, was but nineteen years old. He had enjoyed no other means for obtaining an education, than such as the country common schools at that time aftbrded; and these were extremely limited, as is well known by all who are acquainted with the state of the country for a considerable period subsequent to that date. His father's family was numerous ; and being in humble life and moderate circumstances, Roger was apprenticed to a shoemaker. He continued to reside with his mother's family about three years after his father's decease, and was employed principally in cultivating the farm, and otherwise in providing for the bereaved family. About that time it was judged expedient to change their residence, and remove to a distance. The property which they owned in Newtown, was disposed of; and the family removed to New-Milford, in Connecticut, in 1743. Mr. Sherman made the journey on foot, carrying his tools with him from Massachusetts to their new place of residence. There he commenced business as a merchant, in company with his elder brother, who had estab- lished himself in that town some years before. Mr. Sherman early evinced an unusual thirst for knowledge. — This led him to seize with avidity every opportunity to acquire it. The acquisition of such a mind, even with the disadvantages un- ROGER SHERMAN. 513 der which he labored, must have been comparatively easy, and his improvement was rapid. The variety and extent of his attain- ments, even at this early age, are almost incredible. He soon be- came known in the county of Litchfield, where he resided, as a man of more than ordinary talents, and of unusual skill in the science of mathematics. In 1745, only two years after his re- moval into the above county, and at the age of twenty-four, he was appointed to the office of county surveyor. At this time it appears, also, that he had made no small advance in the science of astron- omy. As early as 1748, he supplied the astronomical calculations for an almanac, published in the city of New-York, and continued this supply for several succeeding years. 1749, he was married to Miss Elizabeth Hartvvell, of Stoughton, in Massachusetts. After her decease, 1760, he married Miss Re- becca Prescot, of Danvers, in the same state. By these wives he had fifteen children, seven by the former, and eight by the latter. In 1754, Mr. Sherman was admitted as an attorney to the bar. It is a trite remark, that great effects often proceed fi-om small causes, and that unfrequently some apparently trivial occurrence, exercises a controlling influence over the whole after life of an individual. Both these remarks are eminently verified in the his- tory of Mr. Sherman. While yet a young man, and, it is believed, before he had relinquished his mechanical occupations, he had oc- casion to go to a neighboring town to transact some business for himself A short time previous to this, a neighbor of his, in set- tling the affairs of a person deceased, became involved in a difficulty which required the assistance of legal counsel. The neighbor stated the case to young Sherman, and authorized him to seek the advice of the lawyer of the town to which he was going. As the subject was not without intricacy, Sherman committed the case to paper, and on his arrival in the town, proceeded with his manuscript to the lawyer's office. In stating the case to the lawyer, he had frequent occasion to recur to the manuscript. This was noticed by the lawyer, and, as it was necessary to present a petition in the case to some court, Sherman was requested to leave the paper, as an assistance in framing the petition. The modesty of young Sherman would scarcely permit him to comply with the 514 ROGER SHERMAN, request. "The paper," he said, "was only a memorandum drawn by himself to assist his memory." He gave it, however, into the hands of the lawyer, who read it with surprise. He found it to contain a clear statement of the case, and remarked, that with some slight verbal alterations, it would be equal to any petition which he himself could draft. The conversation now passed to the situation and circumstances of young Sherman. The lawyer urged him seriously to think upon the profession of the law. At this time, he was deeply involved in the care of his father's family, which, as before noticed, were left in a great measure destitute at his decease. The suggestion . however, appears not to have been lost upon him. A new direc- tion was given to his thoughts. A stronger impulse was added to his energies. His leisure hours were devoted to the acquisition of legal knowledge, and in 1754, as already remarked, he entered upon a professional career, in which few have attained to a greater honor and distinction. From this date, Mr. Sherman soon became distinguished as a judicious counsellor, and was rapidly promoted to offices of trust and responsibility. The year following his admission to the bar, he was appointed a justice of the peace for New-Milford, which town he also represented the same year in the colonial assembly. In 1759, he was appointed judge of the court of common pleas for the county of Litchfield, an office which he filled with great repu- tation for the two following years. At the expiration of this time, that is in 17G1, he became a re- sident of New-Haven, of which town he was soon after appointed a justice of the peace, and often represented it in the colonial as- sembly. To these offices was added, in 1765, that of judge of the court of common pleas. About the same time he was appointed treasurer of Yale college, which institution bestowed upon him the honorary degree of master of arts. In 1766, he was elected by the freemen of the colony, a member of the upper house, in the general assembly of Connecticut. The members of the upper house were called assistants. This bod}- held their deliberations with closed doors. The precise rank, therefore, which Mr. Sherman held among his colleagues, or the services which he rendered his country, cannot now be ascertained. ROGER SHERMAIs', 515 Few men,however, were better fitted for a deliberative assembly. During the same year, the confidence of liis fellow-citizens was still further expressed, by his appointment to the office of judge of the superior court. The offices, thus conferred upon him, during the same year, were not then considered as incompatible. He continued a member of the upper house for nineteen years, until 1785, at which time the two offices which he held, being considered as incompatible, he relinquished his seat at the council board, pre- ferring his station as a judge. This latter office he continued to exercise until 1789, when he resigned it, on being elected to con- gress under the federal constitution. At an early stage of the controversy between Great Britain and her American colonies, Mr. Sherman warmly espoused the cause of his country. This was to be expected of him. A man of so much integrity and consistency of character, of such firmness and solidity, would not be likely to be wanting in the day of trial. It was fortunate for America, that she had some such men in her councils, to balance and keep in check the feverish Spirits which, in their zeal, might have injured, rather than benefitted the cause. Mr. Sherman was no enthusiast, nor was he to be seduced from the path of duty, by motives of worldly ambition, or love of applause. He early perceived, that the contest would have to be terminated ])y a resort to arms. Hence, he felt the paramount importance of union among the colonies. He felt the full force of the sentiment, ^'United we stand, divided we fall." From the justice or clemency of Great Britain, he expected nothing,- nor at an early day, could he perceive any rational ground to hope that the contest could be settled, but by the entire separation of American and British inter- ests. He was, therefore, prepared to proceed, not rashly, but with deliberate firmness, and to resist, even unto blood, the unrighteous attempts of the British parliament to enthral and enslave the Amer- ican colonies. Of the celebrated congress of 1774, Mr, Sherman was a con- spicuous member. He was present at the opening of the session ; and continued uninterruptedly a member of that body for the long space of nineteen years, until his death in 1793. Of the important services which he rendered his country, during liis congressional career, it is difficult and even impossible to form 51G ROGER SHERMAN. an estimate. He served on various committees, whose delibera- tions often involved the highest interest of the country. During the continuance of the war of the revolution, the duties of com- mittees were frequently arduous and fatiguing. No man ad- ventured upon those duties with more courage: no one exercised a more indefatigable zeal than did Mr. Sherman. He investiga- ted every subject with uncommon particularity, and formed his judgment with a comprehensive view of the whole. This, to- gether with the well known integrity of his character, attracted universal confidence. He naturally became, therefore, one of the leading and most influential members of congress, during the period of his holding a seat in that body. Of the congress of 1775, Mr. Sherman was again a member; but of this day of clouds and darkness, when the storm which had long lowered, began to burst forth on every side, we can take no further notice than to mention, with gratitude and admiration, the firmness of those assembled sages who, with courage, breasted themselves to the defence of the liberties of their country, having counted the cost, and being prepared to surrender their rights only with their lives. In the congress of 1776, Mr. Sherman took a distinguished part . He assisted on committees appointed to give instructions for the military operations of the army in Canada; to establish regulations and restrictions on the trade of the United States ; to regulate the currency of the country ; to furnish supplies for the army ; to pro- vide for the expenses of the government; to prepare articles of confederation between the several states, and to propose a plan of military operations for the campaign of 1776. During this year, also, he received the most flattering testimony of the high estimation in which he was held by congress, in being associated with Adams, Jefferson, Franklin and Livingston, in the responsible duty of preparing the declaration of independence. The reputation of Mr. Sherman abroad, was cordially recipro- cated in the state in which he resided. Few men were ever more highly esteemed in Connecticut. The people understood his worth. They respected him for his abilities, but still more for his unbending integrity. During the war, he belonged to the gov- ernor's council of safety ; and from the year 1784 to his death, he EOGER SHERMAN. 517 held the mayoralty of the city of New-Haven. In 1783, he was appointed, with the honorable Richard Law, both of whom were at this time judges of the superior court, to revise the statutes of the state. This service rendered doubly onerous to the committee from their being instructed to digest all the statutes relating to the same subject into one, and to reduce the whole to alphabetical or- der, was performed with great ability. Many useless statutes were omitted ; others were altered to correspond to the great changes which had then recently taken place in the state of the coun- try, find the whole reduced to comparative order and simplicity. Another expression of the public confidence awaited Mr. Sher- man in 1787. Soon after the close of the war, the inefficacy of the old confederation between the states was apparent. The ne- cessity of a federal constitution, by which the powers of the state governments and of the general government should be more nice- ly balanced, became every day more obvious. Accordingly, in 1787, a general convention of the states, for forming a new con- stitution, was called, and Mr. Sherman, in connexion with the learned Mr. Ellsworth and Dr. Johnson, were appointed to attend it, on the part of Connecticut. In this assemblage of patriots, dis- tinguished for their political wisdom, Mr. Sherman was conspicu- ous; and contributed, in no small degree, to the perfection of that constitution, under which the people of America have for more than fifty years enjoyed as much civil liberty and political pros- perity as is, probably, compatible with the lapsed condition of the human race. Many of the convention, who warmly advocated the adoption of the constitution, were not, indeed, well pleased with every feature of that instrument. To this number Mr. Sherman belonged. He was of the opinion, however, as were others, that it was the best which, under existing circumstances, the conven- tion could have framed. On his return to Connecticut, when the question respecting the adoption of the constitution came before the convention of that state, its adoption according to the testimo- ny of the late chief justice Ellsworth, was in no small degree, owing to the influence of Mr. Sherman. On that occasion, he ap- peared before the convention, and with great plainness and per- spicuity, entered into an explanation of the probable operation of the principles of the constitution. 518 KOGER SHERMAN. Under this new constitution, he was elected a representative to congress, troni the state of Connecticut. At the expiration of two years, a vacancy occurring in the senate, he was elevated to a seat in that h )dy, an office which he continued to hold, and the duties of which he continued to discharge with honor and reputa- tion to himself, and with great usefulness to his country, until the 23d day of July, 1793, when he was gathered to his fathers, in the seventy -third year of his age. In estimating the character of Mr. Sherman, we must dwell a moment upon his practical wisdom. This, in him, was a predom- inant trait. He possessed, more than most men, an intimate ac- quaintance with human nature. He understood the springs of human action in a remarkable degree, and well knew in what manner to touch them, to produce a designed effect. This prac- tical wisdom, anotlier name for common sense, powerfully contri- buted to guide him to safe results, on all the great political ques- tions in which he was concerned, and assisted him to select the means which were best adapted to accomplish the best ends. With the habits and opinions, with the virtues and vices, the prejudices and weaknesses of his countrymen, he was also well acquainted. Hence, he understood, better than many others, who were super- ior to him in the rapidityof their genius, what laws and principles they would bear, and what they would hot bear, in government. Of the practical wisdom of Mr. Sherman, we might furnish many honorable testimonies and numerous illustrations. We must con- tent ourselves, however, with recording a remark of president Jefferson, to the late Dr. Spring, of Newburyport. During the sitting of congress at Philadelphia, the latter gentleman, in com- pany with Mr. Jefferson, visited the national hall. Mr. Jefferson pointed out to the doctor several of the members who were most conspicuous. At length, his eye rested upon Roger Sherman.—- "That," said he, pointing his finger, "is Mr. Sherman, of Connec- ticut, a man v}ho never said a foolish thing in his life.'''' Not less complimentary was the remark of Mr. Macon, the aged and dis- tinguished senator, who has recently retired from public life. "Roger Sherman had more common sense than any man I ever knew." Another distinguishing trait in the character of Roger Sherman, ROGER SHERMAN, 519 was his unbending integrity. No man, probably ever stood more aloof from the suspicion of a selfish bias, or of sinister motives. In both his pubhc and private conduct, he was actuated by princi- ple. The opinion which appeared correct, he adopted, and the measure which appeared the best, he pursued, apparently unin- fluenced by passion, prejudice, or interest. It was probably ow- ing to this trait in his character, that he enjoyed such extraordina- ry influence in those deliberative bodies of which he was a mem- ber. In his speech, he was slow and hesitating. He had few of the giraces of oratory; yet no man was heard with deeper atten- tion. This attention arose from the solid conviction of the hear- ers, that he was an honest man. What he said, was indeed al- ways applicable to the point, was clear, was weighty; and, as the late president Dwight remarked, was generally new and important . Yet the weight of his observations, obviously sprung from the in- tegrity of the man. It was this trait in his character, which eli- cited the observation of the distinguished Fisher Ames : "If I am absent," said he, "during the discussion of a subject, and con- sequently know not on which side to vote, I always look at Roger Sherman, for I am sure if I vote with him I shall vote right?'^ To the above excellent traits in the character of Mr. Sherman, it may be added, that he was eminently a pious man. He was long a professor of religion, and one of its brightest ornaments. — Nor was his religion that which appeared only on occasions. It was with him a principle and a habit. It appeared in the closet, in the family, on the bench, and in the senate house. Few meiw had a higher reverence for the bible; few men studied it with deeper attention ; iew were more intimately acquainted with the doctrines of the gospel, and the metaphysical controversies of the day. On these subjects, he maintained an extended correspon- dence with some of the most distinguished divines of that period, among whom were Dr. Edwards, Dr. Hopkins, Dr. TrumbulJ, president Dickenson, and president Withcrspoon, all of whom had a high opinion of him as a theologian, and derived much in- struction form their correspondence with him. If the character of a man's religion is to be tested by the fruits it produces, the religion of Mr. Sherman must be admitted to have been not of this world. He was naturally possessed of strong 520 ROGER SHERMAN. passions ; but over these he at length obtained an extraordinary control. He became habitually calm, sedate, and self-possessed. The following instance of his self-possession is worthy of being recorded. Mr. Sherman was one of tjiose men who are not ashamed to maintain the forms of religion in the family. One morning he called them together, as usual, to lead them in prayer to God : the "old family bible" was brought out, and laid on the table. Mr. Sherman took his seat, and beside him placed one of his children, a small child, a child of his old age; the rest of the family were seated round the room; several of these were now grown up. — Besides these, some of the tutors of the college, and it is believed, some of the students, were boarding in the family, and were pres- ent at the time alluded to. His aged, and now superannuated moth- er, occupied a corner of the room, opposite to the place where the distinguished judge of Connecticut sat. At length he opened the bible, and began to read. The child which was seated beside him, made some little disturbance, upon which Mr. Sherman paused, and told it to be still. Again he proceeded, but again he paused, to reprimand the little offender, whose playful disposition would scarcely permit it to be still. At this time, he gently tapped its ear: the blow, if it might be called a blow, caught the attention of his aged mother, who now with some effort rose from her seat, and tottered across the room. At length, she reached the chair of Mr. Sherman, and in a moment most unexpected to him, she gave him a blow on the ear, with all the power she could summon. " There,''' said she, "j/om strike your child, and I will strike mine.'''' For a moment, the blood was seen rushing to the face of Mr. Sherman ; but it was only for a moment, when all was as mild and calm as usual. He paused — ^he raised his spectacles — he cast his eye upon his mother — again it fell upon the book, from which he had been reading. Perhaps he remembered the injunction, "hon- or thy mother," and he did honor her. Not a word escaped him; but again he calmly pursued the service, and soon after sought in prayer ability to set an example before his household, which should be worthy their imitation. Such self-possession is rare. Such a victory was worth more than the proudest victory ever achieved in the field of battle. CHARLES CARROLL. 521 We have room only to add the inscription, which is recorded upon the tablet which covers the tomb of this truly excellent man : ♦*In memory of the Hon. Roger Sherjl^is, Esq. Mayor of the city of New-Haven, and Senator of the United States. He was born at Newton, in Massachusetts, April 19th, 1721, and died in New- Haven, July 23d, A. D. 1793, aged 72. Possessed of a strong, clear, penetrating mind, and singular perseverance, he became the self-taught scholar, eminent for jurisprudence and policy. — He was nineteen years an assistant, and twenty-three years a judge of the superior court, in high reputation. He was a Dele- gate in the first Congress, signed the glorious act of Independence, and many years displayed superior talents and ability in the na- tional legislature. ' He was a member of the general convention, approved the federal constitution, and served his country with fi- delity and honor, in the House of Representatives, and in the Sen- ate of the United States. He was a man of approved integrity ; a cool, discerning Judge; a prudent, sagacious Politician; a true, faithful, and firm Patriot. He ever adorned the profession of Chris- tianity which he made in youth; and distinguished through life for public usefulness, died in the prospect of a blessed immortality.''' CHARLES CARROLL OF CARROLLTON. This gentleman descended from Irish ancestry. His grand- father, Daniel Carroll, a native of Littarhoura, in Ireland, was a clerk in England, in the office of lord Powis, in the reign of James II. but he left England and emigrated to America, in the latter part of the seventeenth century. He came to Maryland under the patronage of lord Baltimore, the principal patentee or propri- etor of that colony, and was appointed as his agent, to receive his rents, and also as judge, and register of the land office. The father of the subject of this notice, was born in 1702, and died at the age of eighty years. His son, now universally called Charles Carroll of CarroUton, was born at Annapolis, Maryland, on the 27th of September, in the year 1737. When only eight years old, his father took him to France, and placed him in an English Jesuit's college at St. Omer's, to be educated. After re- maining there six years he went to Rheims, to a college of Frencii Jesuits, to pursue his studies in that seminary, There he contin- 45 522 CHARLES CARROLL. ued but one year, and then was removed to the college of Louis le Grand, where he remained two years. He then went to Bourges to study law, and at the end of twelve months removed to Paris. Here he continued till 1757, and then went to London, to study law in England. For this purpose he took apartments in the inner temple. From England he returned to the place of his nativity in 1765, just about the time when the British ministry began to promulgate their system of measures, which eventually led to the independence of the American colonies. A few years following the repeal of the stamp act, the violent excitement occasioned by that measure, in a degree subsided throughout all the colonies. In this calmer state of things, the people of Maryland participated. But about the year 1771, great commotion was excited in that province, in consequence of the arbitrary conduct of governor Eden and his council, touching the fees of the civil officers of the colonial government. These fees had become, in the estimation of the popular branch of the assem- bly, from the manner in which they were charged, exceedingly exorbitant. To correct the abuses growing out of the indefinite character of the law, a new law was framed, and after being passed by the lower house, was sent to the upper house for their concurrence. This, however, was refusied, and the assembly was prorogued without coming to any agreement on the subject. — Shortly after, governor Eden issued his proclamation, the ostensi- ble object of which was, to prevent oppressions and extortions on the part of tlie officers, in exacting unreasonable and oppressive fees. The proclamation was in reality, however, highly excep- tionable in the view of the people, as it affected to settle the point, which was the prerogative only of the people. The fees in ques- tion were considered in the light of a tax, the power to lay which the people justly claimed to themselves. The controversy which grew out of this arbitrary exercise of power on the part of gov- ernor Eden, became exceedingly spirited. Several writers of distinguished character enlisted themselves on different sides of the question. Among these writers, no one was more conspicuous than Mr. Carroll. The natural consequence of his firmness in defence of the rights of the people, was, that great confidence was reposed in him on their part, and he was looked up to as one CHARLES CARROLL, 523 ^vho was eminently qualified to lead in the great struggle which was approaching between the colonies and the parent country. From what has been observed respecting Mr. Carroll, it may justly be inferred that his mind was made up at an early day, as to the course duty required him to take in respect to this coming storm. An anecdote is related of him, which will illustrate his influence with the people of Maryland. By a resolution of the delegates of Maryland, on the 22d day of June 1774, the impor- tation of tea was prohibited. Sometime after, however, a vessel arrived at Annapolis, having a quantity of this article on board. This becoming known, the people assembled in great multitudes, to take effectual measures to prevent its bei^g landed. At length the e.xcitement became so high, that the personal safety of the captain of the yessel became endangered. In this state of things, the friends of the captain made application to Mr. Carroll, to in- terpose his influence with the people in his behalf. The public indignation was too great to be easily allayed. This Mr. Carroll perceived, and advised the captam and his friends, as the only probable means of safety to himself, to set fire to the vessel, and burn it to the water's edge. This alternative was indeed severe; but, as it was obviously a measure of necessity, the vessel was drawn out, her sails were set, and her colors unfurled, in which attitude the fire was applied to her, and in the presence of an im- raense concourse of people, she was consumed. This atonement was deemed satisfactory, and the captain was no farther molested. In the early part of 1776, Mr. Carroll, whose distinguished exertions in Maryland had become extensively known, was ap- pointed by congress, in connexion with Dr. Franklin and Samuel Chase, on a commission to proceed to Canada, to persuade the people of that province to relinquish their allegiance to the crown of England, and unite with the Americans in their struggle for independence. In the discharge of their duties, the commissioners met with unexpected difliculties. The defeat and death of Mont- gomery, together with the compulsion which the American troops found it necessary to exercise, in obtaining the means of support in that province, conspired to diminish the ardor of the Canadians in favor of a union with the colonies, and even, at length, to ren- der them hostile to the measure. To conciliate their affections. 524 CHARLES CARKOLL. and to bring to a favorable result the object of their mission, the commissioners employed their utmost ingenuity and influence. — They issued their proclamations, in which they assured the people of the disposition of congress to remedy the temporary evils which the inhabitants suffered in consequence of the presence of the American troops, so soon as it should be in their power to provide specie, and clothing, and provisions. A strong tide, however, was setting against the American colonies, the strength of which was much increased by the Roman Catholic priests, who, as a body, had always been opposed to any connexion with the united colo- nics. Despairing of accomplishing the wishes of congress, the commissioners at length abandoned the object and returned. The great object of independence was at this time undergoing a discussion in the hall of congress. It has been ajready noticed, that the Maryland delegation, in that body, had been instructed bv their convention, to refuse their assent to a declaration of inde- pendence. On returning to Maryland, Mr. Carroll resumed his seat in the convention, and with the advocates of a declaration of independence, urged the withdrawal of the above instructions, and the granting of power to their delegates to unite in such a decla- ration. The friends of the measure had at length the happiness, on the 28th of June, of procuring a new set of instructions, which secured the vote of the important province of Maryland in favor of the independence of America. On the same day in which the great question was decided in congress, in favor of a declaration of independence, Mr. Carroll was elected a delegate to that body from Maryland, and accor- dingly took his seat on the eighteenth of the same month. Although not a member of congress at the time the question of a declaration of independence was settled, Mr. Carroll had the honor of greatly contributing to a measure so auspicious to the interests of his country, by assisting in procuring the withdrawal of the prohibiting instructions, and the adoption of a new set, by which the Maryland delegates found themselves authorised to vote for independence. He had the honor also, of affixing his signature to the declaration on the second of August; at which time the members generally signed an engrossed copy, which had been prepared for that purpose. From the printed journals of CHARLES CARROLL. 525 congress, it would appear that the declaration was signed on the fourth of July, the same day on which the final question was taken. This is an error. The declaration, as first published, had only the name of Hancock aflSxed to it ; and it was only on the nine- teenth of July that a resolution was adopted, directing the decla- tion to be engrossed on parchment, with a view to a general signature on the part of the members. The truth of this statement may be inferred from the following letter, addressed by Mr. secretary Adams, to Mr. Carroll, on the twenty -fourth of June, 1824 : "Sir — In pursuance of a joint resolution of the two houses of congress, a copy of which is hereto annexed, and by direction of the president of the United States, I have the honor of transmitting to you two fac simile copies of the original declaration of inde- pendence, engrossed on parchment, conformably to a secret reso- lution of congress of nineteenth of July, 1776, to be signed by every member of congress, and accordingly signed on the second day of August of the same year. Of this document, unparalleled in the annals of mankind, the original deposited in this department, exhibits your name as one of the subscribers. The rolls herewith transmitted, are copies as exact as the art of engraving can pre- sent, of the instrument itself, as well as of the signatures to it. "While performing the duty thus assigned me, permit me to fe- licitate you, and the country, which is reaping the reward of your labors, as well that your hand was affixed to this record of glory, as that, after the lapse of near half a century, you survive to re- ceive this tribute of reverence and gratitude, from your children, the present fathers of the land. "With every sentiment of veneration, I have the honor," &c. A signature to the declaration, was an important step for every individual member of congress. It exposed the signers of it to the confiscation of their estates, and the loss of life, should the British arms prove victorious. Few men had more at stake in re- spect to property than Mr. Carroll, he being considered the richest individual in the colonies. But wealth was of secondary value in his estimation, in comparison with the rights and liberties of his country. When asked whether he would annex his name, he re- plied "most willingly," and seizing a pen, instantly subscribed "to 45* 526 JOHN WITHERSPOON. this record of glory." "There go a few millions," said some one who watched the pen as it traced the name of "Charles Carroll, of Carrollton," on the parchment. Millions would indeed have gone, for his fortune was princely, had not success crowned the Amer- ican arms, in the long fought contest. Mr. Carroll was continued a member of congress until 1778, at which time he resigned his seat in that body, and devoted himself more particularly to the interests of his native state. He had served in her convention in 1776, in the latter part of which year he had assisted in drafting her constitution. Soon after, the new consti- tution went into operation, and Mr. Carroll was chosen a member of the senate of Maryland. In 1781, he was re-elected to the same station, and in 1788, on the adoption of the federal constitu- tion, was chosen to the senate of the United States. la 1791, Mr. Carroll relinquished his seat in the national senate, and was again called to the senate of his native state. This office he continued to hold until 1804, at which time the democratic party was successful in electing their candidate, to the exclusion of this long tried and faithful patriot. At this time, Mr. Carroll took leave of public life, and sought in retirement the quiet enjoyment of his family circle. Since the date of his retirement from public office, fevf incidents have occurred in the life of this worthy man which demand par- ticular notice. Like a peaceful stream, his days glided along, and continued to be lengthened out, while the generation of illustrious .men, with whom he acted on the memorable fourth of July, 1776, had all descended to the tomb. On the 14thday of November, 1833, this last survivor of the signers of the declaration of independence, sunk under the weight of old age, in the ninety-sixth year of his eventful life. JOHN WITHERSPOON. Tins venerable gentleman, who was emmently distinguished for his piety, learning, and a strong and powerful mind, as a divine, a president of a seminary of learning, and a statesman ; and whose name stands enrolled among those vv^ho signed the declaration of American independence, was born at Yester, a parish in the vicin- ity of Edinburg, in Scotland, on the 5th day of February, 1722. JOHN WITHERSPOOIV. 527 He was lineally descended from the celebrated John Knox, the great and intrepid leader of the reformation in Scotland. His fa. ther was a respectable minister in the church of Scotland, settled in the parish of Tester ; and was much respected and beloved by the people of his pastoral charge. He as might have been ex- pected from such a father, bestowed much care and watchful at- tention upon the early instruction of his son, to pre-occupy his infant mind with moral and religious impressions, before it should be engrossed with those of an opposite character. Being con- vinced that it is much easier, by beginning right, to impress the in- fant mind with right principles, as fast as it opens to receive them, and thus shut out wrong ones, than it is to eradicate the latter, af- ter they have obtained admission through neglect. And he was not disappointed. It was his early wish that his son might be fit- ted for the gospel ministry; and he was gratified in eventually realizing the object of his wishes. For this care and wisdom of his father in choice of the object, for which he wished to educate his son, and the fidelity with which he attended to its accomplish- ment, doctor Witherspoon felt, and often expressed a pious grati- tude towards his venerable parent. At an early age he was placed at the public school in Hadding- ton, where he soon was distinguished for his assiduous application to study, for his superior native powers of mind, and uncommon attainment in learning. Nor was he less distinguished for a dis- criminating power and quickness of perception, which comprehen- ded, whatever subject engaged his attention. With such native talents, thus faithfully improved, he was prepared for an early transfer from the preparatory academic school to the higher sem- inary, where he was to finish his literary course ; qualified to com- mence his professional studies. He was removed from Hadding- ton school to the university of Edinburg, at fourteen years of age. There great credit was awarded him, for his diligence and attain- ments in the various branches of learning, taught in that eminent seat of science j and at an early stage of his theological studies, he gave indications of talents in sacred criticism, which character- ised him in all his future life. He prosecuted his professional course in the theological hall at the university, and left it at twen- ty-one years of age, a licensed preacher of the gospel. 528 JOHN WITHERSPOON. Such was the esteem in which he w^s held in the place of his nativity, that the people of his father's parish invited him to settle with them as an assistant minister with him, stipulating for the right to succeed him in the charge after his father's decease. But hav- ing received another invitation from the west of Scotland, to settle in the parish of Beith, he gave the latter his preference ; and was ordained there, with the universal approbation of that congrega- tion. In Beith he labored faithfully in the ministry several years, enjoying the esteem and affections of a grateful and attentive people. When the battle of Falkirk was fought, he with several others, had the curiosity to be present, that they might witness the contest. Although they were near the scene of action, they took no part in the contest; but, after the victory was decided in favor of the rebels, these persons paid rather a dear price for gratifying their curiosity. They were taken prisoners, and confined in the castle of Doune. Several of them effected an escape at a great risk of their lives. One lost his life in consequence of the attempt; but doctor Witherspoon seeing the disaster of his companion in the at- tempt, being the last of the number, concluded to remain till regu- larly liberated. After attending faithfully to the duties of his ministry at Beith, for several years, he was transferred to the large manufacturing town of Paisley. He resided there, ministering to an affectionate people, and enjoying the respect and esteem of the surrounding country ; when an application was made to him to come to America, and take the presidency of the college of New-Jersey. While he resided in Paisley he was invited to Dublin, in Ireland ; to Dundee, in Scotland; and to Rotterdam, in Holland; to take the pastoral charge of a large congregation in each of those places, besides the application from the board of directors of New- Jersey college. But he declined them all. To the latter he was invited in 1766, by an unanimous vote of the trustees of the institution, and was informed of it by Richard Stockton, Esq. who was then in Lon- don. The trustees addressed a letter to Mr. Stockton, requesting him to visit Paisley, and personally inform doctor Witherspoon of their request, and solicit his acceptance of the appointment. Lit- tle did either of them anticipate at that time, that they would be- JOHN WITKERSPCOJV. 520 come colleague . members of the American congress, and' act together in declaring the independence of the American colonies, and setting their names, side by side, on the instrument by which that act was proclaimed to the world. Yet that event occurred in ten years from that date. Doctor Witherspoou declined this ap- plication for two reasons. There were considerations respecting the then existing condition of the college, which decided him to give a negative reply to the application. But Mrs. Witherspocn felt an unwillingness to leave the land of her nativity, and the re- sidence of her connexions, and this strengthened and confirmed his decision at that time. Happily, however, both of these impedi- ments in the way of his acceptance were removed, at a subsequent and no very distant period. Despairing of obtaining him, the trustees, about two months previous to their being informed by Mr. Stockton, that the obstacles of doctor Witherspoon's acceptance were removed, had made choice of doctor Samuel Blair; but they immediately re-elected doctor Witherspoon ; and doctor Blair, on being informed that doctor Witherspoon would now accept, imme- diately tendered his resignation. By that noble act of generosity and disinterestedness of doctor Blair, the trustees were relieved from the perplexing embarrassment, and the services of doctor Witherspoon were secured to the seminary, to the great gratifica- tion of its friends and patrons. Doctor Witherspoon arrived at Princeton in August, \1Q8, ac- companied by his family. On his arrival being announced, a special meeting of the board of trustees was called, which met on tlie seventeenth day of that month and inaugurated him as presi- dent of Princeton college. For some time previous to his arrival, the reputation of that college, once justly high, had been on the wane. His entering on his office as president marked a new era in its prosperity. His reputation had been widely diffused before he left Scotland, and had given rise to high anticipations in this country. On his arrival and taking upon himself the charge of presiding over its interests, the effect in the country to revive its prosperity, was almost immediately beneficial. The number of students who sought instruction in that college increased rapidly. He brought with him, and incorporated in the system of instruc- tion, now revised, all the recent improvements that had taken 530 JOHN WITHERSPC^ON. % place in the older seminaries of Great Britain, so far as was prac- ticable in that comparatively feeble and infant institution. Indeed bis acceptance of the presidency of Princeton college, conferred an important benefit on the cause of literature and science in America. Immediately after he entered on the duties of his of- fice, the party feuds and dissentions that had existed in the board of trustees, by his influence and prudence, speedily subsided.-^ The funds of the college, which were in a low condition, and still sinking, were in a short time augmented by the active exertions made use of in various parts of the country ; and the province of New-Jersey, which had done nothing for the benefit of the institu- tion previously to that time, was induced to lend some aid in pro- moting its prosperity. But his learning and his judicious and ad- vantageous system of managing the establishment, were not anjong the greatest advantages resulting from the accession of Dr. . Wisherspoon to the presidency. Although the study of theology had occupied much of his time and attention, that he might be thoroughly furnished for a -faithful discharge of the duties of his pastoral office, yet he was far from limiting his reading to works on theology. Sensible that a knowledge of every valuable science would contribute and enlarge the sphere of his usefulness to man- kind, he applied himself to other branches of science, and became possessed of a knowledge of almost every subject embraced in the circle of the sciences. He was well informed respecting the grounds of the controversy between Great Britain and her Amer- ican colonies ; and early after his arrival in this country, became a decided advocate of the latter. Hence, when the college at Princeton was broken up by the incursions of the enemy, the citi- zens of New-Jersey turned their attention to him to represent them in the general congress. By an election to a seat in that council of the nation, he was called to exercise his talents on a new theatre, where the variety of his learning and the vigorous powers of his mind were so happily displayed as to gather fresh lustre to his already extended reputation. He was called by the citizens of New-Jersey, to assist them in framing a new constitution of government for that state, in 1776. When he appeared in that body, and exhibited his knowledge of legislative science, those present who had made politics the object ■f JOHN WITHERSPOOX. 531 of their principal researches, were not a little surprised at the readiness and intelligence with which he investigated every sub- ject which was discussed in that convention. He was chosen a delegate to the general congress, on the twen- ty-first of June, 1776', by the provincial congress of New-Jersey; and he took his seat in that body, a few days before the fourth of July, the memorable birth day of the American nation. He had deliberated on the great question which was then to be settled forever, in domestic retirement; and when he was introduced, to take a part in the discussion of congress, on that important subject, he at once gave evidence of his preparation. Before his election, he had taken an active and decided part iri the conventions, and revolutionary committees of New-Jersey ; and had manifested his superior qualifications to' conduct the in- terests of the state in a higher station. The maturity and decision of his judgment, on the great quer^- tion of the independence of this nation, is shown in the laconic re- ply he gave to a remark made by a distinguished member of con- gress, "That the people were not ripe for a Declaration of Inde- pendence:" Dr. Wi'therspoon observed, "In my judgment, sir, we are not only ripe, but rotting." Doctor Witherspoon was continued a representative of New- Jers advice of Samuel Adams to him, no longer to insult the feelings oj an already exasperated people. ''"' The independence and sterling integrity of Mr. Adams, might well have secured o him the respect, and even confidence of gov- ernor Gage ; but witU far different feelings did he regard the noble conduct of this high miirled patriot. Under the irritation excited by the failure of a fa-orite plan, governor Gage issued a procla- SAMUEL ADAMS. 551 mation, which comprehended the following language : "I do here- by," he said, "in his majesty's name, ofler and promise his most gracious pardon to all persons, who shall forthwith lay down their arms, and return to the duties of peaceable subjects : excepting only from the benefits of such pardon, Samuel Adams and Johk Hancock, whose offences are of too flagitious a nature to admit of any other consideration but that of condign punishment." Thus these independent men were singled out as the objects of peculiar vengeance, and even their lives endangered, for honora- bly resisting a temptation, to which, had they yielded, they would have merited the reproach of their countrymen, and the scorn of the v/orld. Mr. Adams was a member of the first continental congress, which assembled in Philadelphia on the 5th of September, 1774; and continued a member of that body until the year 1781. Dur- ing this period, no delegate acted a more conspicuou.s or manly part. No man exhibited a more indefatigable zeal, or a firmer tone of character. He early saw that the contest would probably not be decided without bloodshed. He was himself prepared for every extremity, and was willing that such measures should be adopted, as should lead to an early issue of the controversy. He was accordingly among the warmest advocates for the declaration of American independence. In his view, the die was cast, and a further friendly connexion with the parent country was impossi- ble. "I am perfectly satisfied," said he, in a letter written from Philadelphia, to a friend in Massachusetts, in April, 1776, "of the necessity of a public and explicit declaration of independence. I cannot conceive what good reason can be assigned against it.— Will it widen the breach? This would be a strange question, af- ter we have raised armies, and fought battles with the British troops ; set up an American navy; permitted the inhabitants of these col- onies to fit out armed vessels, to capture the ships^ &c., belonging to any of the inhabitants of Great Britain ; declaring them the enemies of the United colonies; and torn into shivers their acts of trade, by allowing commerce, subject to regulations to be made by ourselves, with the people of all coimtries, except such as are subject to the British king. It cannot surely, after all this, be im- 552 SAMUEL ADAMS. agined that we consider ourselves, or mean to be considered by others, in any other state, than that of independence." The independence of America was at length declared, and gave a new political character, and an immediate dignity to the cause of the colonies. But notwithstanding this measure might itself bear the aspect of victory, a formidable contest yet awaited the Americans. The year following the declaration of independence, the situation of the colonies was extremely gloomy. The stoutest hearts trembled within them, and even doubts were expressed, whether the measures which had been adopted, particularly the declaration of independence, were not precipitate. The neigh- borhood of Philadelphia became the seat of war; congress, now reduced to only twenty-eight members, had resolved to remove their session to Lancaster. At this critical period, Mr. Adams accidentally fell in company with several other members, by whom the subject of the state of the country was freely and con- fidentially discussed. Gloomy forebodings seemed to pervade their minds, and the greatest anxiety was expressed as to the issue of the contest. To this conversation, Mr. Adams listened with silent attention. At length he expressed his surprise, that such desponding feelings should have settled upon their hearts, and such desponding lan- guage should be even confidentially uttered by their lips. To this it was answered, "the chance is desperate." "Indeed, indeed, it is desperate," said Mr. Adams, "if this be our language. If %ce wear long faces, others will do so too; if we despair, let us not ex- pect that others will hope ; or that they will persevere in a contest, from which their leaders shrink. But let not such feelings, let not such language, be ours." Thus while the hearts of others were ready tofaint, Samuel Adams maintained his usual firmness. His unshaken courage, and his calm reliance upon the aid and protection of heaven, contributed in an eminent degree to inspire his countrj'^men vdth a confidence of their final success. A higher encomium could not have been bestowed on any member of the continental congress, ihan is expressed in relation to Mr. Adams by Mr. Galloway, in his historical and political reflections on the rise and progress of the American rebellion, published in Great Britain, 1780. "He eats little," says the author, "drinks little. SAMUEL ADAMS. 553 sleeps little, thinks much, and is most indefatigable in tiie pursuit of his object. It was this man, who by his superior application, managed at once the factions in congress at Philadelphia, and the factions of New-England." In 1781, Mr. Adams retired from congress ; but it was to receive from his native state, additional proofs of high estimation of his services, and of the confidence which she reposed in his talents and integrity. He had already been an active member of the con- vention that formed her constitution, and after it went into effect, he was placed in the senate of the state, and for several years pre- sided over that body. In 1789, he was elected lieutenant-governor, and held that office till 1794; when, upon the death of Hancock, he was chosen governor, and was annually re-elected till 1797, when he retired from public life. This retirement, however, he did not long enjoy, as his death occurred on October 2d, 1803, at the advanced age of 82. From the foregoing sketches of Mr. Adams, it will not be dif- ficult for the reader to form a tolerably correct opinion of his char- acter and disposition. In his person, he is said to have been only of the middle size, but his countenance indicated a noble genius within, and a more than ordinary inflexibility of character and purpose. Great sincerity and simplicity marked his manners and deportment. In his conversation, he was at once interesting and instructive; and those who shared his friendship had seldom any reason to doubt his affection and constancy. His writings were volummous, but unfortunately, as they generally related to the temporary politics of the day, most of them are lost. Those which remain, furnish abundant proof of his superiority as a writer, of the soundness of his political creed, and of the piety and sincerity of his character. As an orator, he was eminently fitted for the stormy times in which he lived. His elocution was concise and impressive, partaking more of the logical than the figurative, and rather calculated to enlighten the understanding, than to excite the feelings. Yet no man could address himself more powerfully to the passions, than he did, on certain occasions. As a statesman, his views were broad and enlightened; what his judgment had once matured, he pursued with inflexible firmness, and patriotic ardor. While others desponded, he was fall of hope ; where others 554 RICHARD HENRY LEE. hesitated, ho was resolute ; where others were supine, he was eager for action. His circumstances of indigence led him to habits of simplicity and frugality ; but beyond this, he was naturally averse to parade and ostentation. "Mr. Adams was a christian. His mind was early imbued with piety, as well as cultivated by science. He early approached the table of the Lord Jesus, and the purity of his life witnessed the sincerity of his profession. On the christian Sabbath he con- stantly went to the temple, and the mornmg and evening devotions in his family proved, that his religion attended him in his seasons of retirement. RICHARD HENRY LEE. Richard Heisry Lee, a descendant from an ancient and dis- tinguished family in Virginia, was born in Westmoreland county, of that province, on the twentieth of January, 1732. As the schools of the country for many years furnished but few advantages for an education, those who were able to meet the expense, were ac- customed to send their sons abroad for instruction. At a proper age, young Lee was sent to a flourishing school, then existing at Wakes- field, in the county of Yorkshire, England. The talents which he possessed, industriously employed under the guidance of respect- able tutors, rendered his literary acquisitions easy and rapid ; and in a few years he returned to his native country, with a mind weli stored with scientific and classical knowledge. For several years following his return to America, he continued his studies with persevering industry, greatly adding to his stock of knowledge which he had gained abroad, by which he was still more eminently fitted for the conspicuous part he was destined to act in the approaching revolutionary struggle of his country. About the year 1757, Mr. Lee was called to a seat in the house of burgesses. For several years, however, he made but an indif- ferent figure, either as an orator or as the leader of a party, owing, it is said, to a natural diffidence, which prevented him from dis- playing those powers with which he was gifted, or exercising that influence to which he was entitled. This impediment, however, was gradually removed, when he rapidly rose into notice, and be- came conspicuous as a political leader in his country, and highly RICHARD HENRY LEE, 553 distinguished for a natural, easy, and at the ^ame time impressive eloquence. In the year 1765, Patrick Henry proposed the celebrated reso- lutions against the stamp act. During the debate on these resolu- tions, Mr. Lee arrived at the seat of government, soon after which he entered with great spirit into the debate, and powerfully assisted in carrying these resolutions through the house, in opposition to the timidity of some, and the mistaken judgment of others. The above strong and spirited resolutions served as has already been noticed in a former page, to rouse the energies of the Amer- icans, and to concentrate that feeling, which was spending itself without obtaining any nnportant object. Not long after the above resolutions were carried, Mr. Lee presented to his fellow-citizens the plan of an association, the object of which was an effectual resistance to the arbitrary power of the mother country, which was manifesting itself in various odious forms ; and especially in that detestable measure, the stamp act. The third article of the constitution of this association will show the patriotic and deter- mined spirit which prevailed in the county of Westmoreland, the people of which generally united in the association. "As the stamp act does absolutely direct the property of people to be taken from them, without their consent, expressed by their representa- tives, and as in many cases it deprives the British American sub- ject of his right to be tried by jury, we determine, at every hazard, and paying no regard to death, to exert every faculty to prevent the execution of the stamp act, in every instance within the colony." The influence of this association, and other associations of a similar kind, rendered the execution of the stamp act difficult, and even impossible. It was a measure to which the Americans would not submit; and the ministry of Great Britain, were reluc- tantly forced to repeal it. To Mr. Lee, as well as to his country- men, the removal of the stamp act was an occasion of no small joy ; but the clause accompany ing the repealing act, which declared the power of parliament to bind the colonies in all cases whatever, was a dark cloud, which in a measure obscured the brightness of the prospect, and foreboded an approaching storm. In the year 1773, Mr. Lee brought forward in the Virginia house of burgesses, his celebrated plan for the formation of a committee 556 RICHARD HENRY lEE. of correspondence, whose object was to disseminate information, and to kindle the flame of liberty, throughout the continent ; or, in other language, "to watch the conduct of the British parliament, to spread more widely correct information on topics connected with the interests of the colonies, and to form a closer union of the men of influence in each." The honor of having first established corresponding societies is claimed both by Massachusetts and Vir- ginia; the former placing the merit to the account of her distin- guished patriot, Samuel Adams ; and the latter assigning it to Rich- ard Henry Lee. It is probable, however, that both of these dis- tinguished men are entitled to equal honor, in respect to origina- ting a plan which contributed more than most others, to a unity of sentiment and harmony of action among the different leaders in the respective colonies. Without concert between them, each of these individuals seems to have introduced the plan, about the same period, to the legislatures of their respective colonies. It is certain however, that in respect to Mr. Lee, the plan of these cor- responding societies was not the result of a few days reflection only. It had occupied his thoughts for several years ; had been there form- ing and maturing, and, at length, was proposed and adopted, to the infinite advantage of the cause of liberty in the country. Of the distinguished congress which met at Philadelphia in 1774 Mr. Lee was a delegate from Virginia, with Washington and Hen- ry. In the deliberations of this celebrated body, Mr. Lee acted a conspicuous part, and served on several committees; and to his pen is attributed the memorial, which the continental congress au- thorized, to the people of British America. In the following year, Mr. Lee received the unanimous suffrage of the district in which he resided to the assembly of Virginia, by which he was deputed to represent the colony in the second congress, which was to meet on the tenth of May of that year. At the same time, he received an expression of the thanks of the assembly, "for his cheerful un- dertaking, and faithful discharge of the trust reposed in him, during the session of the last congress." On the meeting of this second congi-ess, it was apparent that all hope of peace and reconciliation with the mother country was at an end. Indeed, hostilities had actually commenced ; the busy note of preparation was heard in all the land. Washington was sum- i RICHARD HENRY LEE. 557 moned by the unanimous voice of congress, to the command of the American armies ; and his commission and instructions it fell to Mr. Lee to furnish, as the chairman of a committee appointed for that purpose. During the same session, also, he was placed on com- mittees which were appointed to the important duties of preparing munitions of war, encouraging the manufacture of saltpetre and arms, and for devising a plan for the more rapid communication of intelligence throughout the colonies. The period liad now arrived, when the thoughts of the American people were turned, in solemn earnest, to the great subject of American independence. Most of the colonies were already pre- pared to hail with joy a measure which should declare to the world their determination to be accounted a free and independent people. Most of th6 provincial assemblies had published resolutions in fa- vor of such a declaration, and had even instructed their delegates to urge upon congress the importance and necessity of this de- cisive step. Mr. Lee was selected to move the resolution in congress on this great subject. This he did on the seventh of June, 1776, in the following words : "That these united colonies are, and of right ought to be, free and independent states ; that they are absolved from all allegiance to the British crown ; and that all political con- nexion between them and the state of Great Britain is, and ought to be, totally dissolved." The motion, thus introduced by Mr. Lee, he followed by one of the most luminous and eloquent speeches ever delivered either by himself or any other gentleman on the floor of congress. "Why then, sir," (said he in conclusion,) "why do we longer delay ? Why still deliberate ? Let this happy day give birth to an American republic. Let her arise, not to devastate and to conquer, but to re- establish the reign of peace and of law. The eyes of Europe are fixed upon us ; she demands of us a living example of freedom, that may exhibit a contrast in the felicity of our citizens to the ever increasing tyranny which desolates her polluted shores. She in- vites us to prepare an asylum, where the unhappy may find a solace, and the persecuted repose. She entreats us to cultivate a propitious soil, where that generous plant which first sprung and grew in England, but is now withered by the poisonous blasts of 48 558 EICHAHD HENRV LEE. Scottish tyranny, may revive and flourish, sheltering under its sa- lubrious and interminable shade, all the unfortunate of the human race. If we are not this day wanting in our duty, the name of the American legislators of 1776, will be placed by posterity at the side of Theseus, Lycurgus and Romulus, of the three Williams of Nassau, and of all those whose memory has been, and ever will be, dear to virtuous men and good citizens." The debate on the above motion of Mr. Lee was protracted until the tenth of June, on which day congress resolved, "that the consideration of the resolution respecting independence, be post- poned till the first Monday of July next; and, in the mean while, that no time be lost, in case the congress agree thereto, that a committee be appointed to prepare a declaration to the effect of the said resolution." On the day on which this resolution was taken, Mr. Lee was unexpectedly summoned to attend upon his family in Virginia, some of the members of which were at that time dangerously ilL As the mover of the original resolution for independence, it would, according to parliamentary usage, have devolved upon Mr. Lee to have been appointed chairman of the committee selected to prepare a declaration, and, as chairman, to have furnished that important document. In the absence of Mr. Lee, however, Mr. Jefferson was elected to that honor, by whom it was drawn up with singular energy of style and argument. In the -following month Mr. Lee resumed his seat in congress, in which body he continued till June 1777; during which period he continued the same round of active exertions for the welfare of his country. It was his fortune, however, as well as the for- tune of others, to have enemies, who charged him with disaffection to his country, and attachment to Great Britain. The ground on which this charge was made, was, that contrary to his former practice, previously to the war, he received the rents of his ten- ants in the produce of their farms, instead of colonial money, which had now become greatly depreciated. This accusation, although altogether unjust and unwarrantable, gained so much credit, that the name of Mr. Lee was omitted by the assembly, in their list of delegates to congress. This gave him an opportunity, and fur- sished him with a motive, to demand of the assembly an enquiry RICHARD HENRV LEE. 559 into the nature of the allegations against him. The enquiry re- sulted in an entire acquittal, and in an expression of thanks to Mr. Lee, which was conveyed, on the part of the house, by their speaker, Mr. Wythe, in the following language : "It is with pecu- liar pleasure, sir, that I obey this command of the house, because it gives me an opportunity, while I am performing an act of duty to them, to perform an act of justice to yourself. Serving with you in congress, and attentively observing your conduct there, I thought that you manifested, in the American cause, a zeal truly patriotic; and as far as I could judge, exerted the abilities for which you are confessedly distinguished, to promote the good and prosperity of your own country in particular, and the United States in general. That the ^tribute of praise deserved, may reward those who do well, and encourage others to follow your example, the house have come to this resolution — That the thanks of this house be given to Richard Henry Lee, for the faithful services he has rendered his country, in discharge of his duty as one of the delegates from this statp. in the gpnpral congiess." At a subsequent period Mr. Lee was again elected a delegate to congress; but during the session of 1778 and 1779, in conse- quence of ill health, he was obliged frequently to absent himself from the arduous duties which devolved upon him, and which he could no longer sustain. From this time until 1784, Mr. Lee de- clined accepting a seat in congress, from a belief that he might be more useful to his native state by holding a seat in her assem- bly. In this latter year, however, the people of Virginia again honored him by again appointing him one of her representatives to congress, of which body he was unanimously elected president. In this exalted station he presided with great ability ; and on the expiration of his term of service, he received the thanks of con- gress for his able and faithful discharge of the duties of president, while acting in that station. To the adoption of the federal constitution without amendment, although not a member of the convention which discussed its me- rits, he was strongly opposed. The tendency of the constitution, he apprehended, was to consolidation. To guard against this, it was his wish that the respective states should impart to the federal head only so much power as was necessary for mutual safety and 560 RICHARD HENRY LEE. happiness. Under the new constitution, Mr. Lee was appointed the first senator from Virginia, in the exercise of which office, he offered several amendments to the constitution, from the adoption of which he hoped to lessen the danger to the country, which he had apprehended. About the year 1792, Mr. Lee, enfeebled by his long attention to public tiuties, and by the infirmities of age, retired to the en- joyment of his family and friends. Not long after, he had the pleasure of receiving from the senate and house of delegates of Virginia, the following unanimous vote of thanks : "Resolved, unanimously, that the speaker be directed to convey to Richard Henry Lee, the respects of the senate ; that they sincerely sym- pathize with him in those infirmities which have deprived their country of his valuable services,- and that they ardently wish he may, in his retirement, with uninterrupted happiness, close the evening of a life, in which he hath so conspicuously shone forth as a statesman and patriot; that, while mindful of his many exertions to promotp. the public interests, they are particularly thankful for his conduct as a member of the legislature of the United States." The following quotation from Sanderson's Biography, is too beautiful, and too just, not to merit an insertion in this history : — "The preceding sketch may give some idea of the public ser- vices of Mr. Lee : but who can depict him in that sphere, of which he was the centre? giving light and happiness to all around him; possessing all the enjoyment which springs from virtue, unblem- ished fame, blooming honors, ardent friendship, eloquence of taste, and a highly cultivated mind. His hospitable door was open to all: the poor and the distressed frequented it for relief and conso- lation ; the young for instruction ; the old for happiness ; while a numerous family of children, the offspring of two marriages, clus- tered around, and clung to each other in fond affection ; imbibing the wisdom of their father, while they were animated and delight- ed by the amiable serenity and captivating graces of his conver- sation. The necessities of his country occasioned frequent ab- sences ; but every return to his home was celebrated by the people as a festival; for he was their physician, their counsellor, and the arbiter of their differences. The medicines which he imported, DANIEL BOONE. 561 were carefully and judiciously dispensed; and the equity of his decisions was never controverted by a court of law." And, to give a finishing polish to this beautiful portrait of this estimable man, it may be added, that he was a professed believer in the Christian religion; and this avowal of his faith was made amid the accumulated honors of the world, which were lavishly bestowed on him, with sincere good will, and in the full and un- clouded exercise of his vigorous mind. This highly honored and distinguished man, and eminent bene- factor of his country, closed his useful life at Chantilly, in the county of Westmoreland, in Virginia, on the nineteenth day of June, 1794, in the sixty-fourth year of his age. DANIEL BOONE, The first Settler of Kentucky. The merit of opposing the hostile attacks of men regardless of every law of honor and humanity ; counteracting the treacherous machinations of barbarians, who conceive an advantage can never be unjustly gained; and bearing up against continual party skir- mishes, and uninterrupted harrassments, in a contest for the un- enclosed and unfrequented plains of nature, evidently deserves commemoration. The general entrusted with the chief command of an army, who earns his fame by the capture of a troop, reduc- tion of a town, province, or country, is stimulated by the fame, the natural consequence of his actions, and sees the speedy end of the contest; but the former expects no epic muse to sing« his worthy actions ; though his valor is equally tried, or rather teased, by the continual and petty insults of the disorganized and detached foe. To his courage he must add that persevering integrity, which years of uninterrupted assaults cannot subdue. If personal brav- ery, united with disinterested zeal for the good of that community of \thich he is a member, merit our notice, Daniel Boone should I not be passed over in silence. Though not designed by fortune to display those talents, which in an important campaign between the civilized powers of Europe, would have enrolled his name in the list of worthies; yet fortunately for the cause of virtue and the just success of his fame, his labors are not consigned to oblivion ; but, unlike some of those beauteous productions of nature in the 48* 562 DANIEL BOONE. lonely theatre of his actions, "born to waste their sweetness on the desert air," were by their author plucked from their native soil, and presented to his friends. Daniel Boone was born, as we are informed, near Bridgenorth, in Somersetshire, (England,) about the year 1730. While he was young, his parents emigrated to America, and settled in North Carolina, where he was bred to the profession of arms, and was very early retained in the service of that country, on the part of the English government. He passed through all the inferior gra- dations to the post of colonel, in which capacity he distinguished himself as the most active, zealous, and useful of the original set- tlers of Kentucky, It was his frequent combats with the Indians on that occasion, during the period of thirteen years, which ren- der him the subject of this memoir. The particulars of his campaigns, if they deserve that name, will be read with more pleasure as left us by himself, where, though devoid of art, and the ornaments a qualified biographer might have furnished, there may be seen the stamp of unexaggerated authenticity, and lively feelings of the patriot, citizen, parent and friend. "It was on the first of May, 1769, that I resigned my domestic happiness, and left my family and peaceful habitation on the Yad- kin river, in North Carolina, to wander through the wilderness of America, in quest of the country of Kentucky, in company with John Finley, John Stuart, Joseph Holden, James Money, and William Cool. On the seventh of June, after travelling through a mduntainous wilderness, in a western direction, we found our- selves on Red river, where John Finley had formerly been trading with the Indians; and from the top of an eminence saw with pleasure the beautiful level of Kentucky. For some time we had experienced the most uncomfortable weather. We now encamped, made a shelter to defend us from the inclement season, and began to hunt and reconnoitre the country. We found abundance of wild beasts in this vast forest. The buffaloes were more numer- ous than cattle on other settlements, browsing upon the leaves of the cane, or cropping the herbage of these extensive plains. Wc saw hundreds in a drove, and the numbers about the salt springs were amazing. In this forest, the habitation of beasts of every American kind, we hunted with success until December. On DANIEL BOONE. 563 (he 22(1 of December, John Stuart and I had a pleasing ramble ; but fortune changed the day at the close of it. We had passed through a great forest, in which stood myriads of trees, some gay with blossoms, others rich with fruits. Nature had here a series of wonders and a fund of delights. Here she displayed her in- genuity and industry in a variety of flowers and fruits,^ beautiful- ly colored, elegantly shaped, and charmingly flavored; and we were diverted with numberless animals presenting themselves perpetually to our view. In the decline of the day, near the Kentucky river, as we descended the brow of a small hill, a num- ber of Indians rushed out of a thick cane-brake and made us prisoners. They plundered us, and kept us in confinement seven days. During this time we discovered no uneasiness or desire to escape, which made them Jess suspicious ; but in the dead of night, as we lay by a large fire in a thick cane-brake, when sleep had locked up their senses, my situation not disposing me to rest, I gently awoke my companion. We seized this favorable opportu- nity and departed, directing our course towards our old camp ; but found it plundered, and our companions dispersed and gone home. About this time my brother, Squire Boone, with another adventur- er, who came to explore the country shortly after us, was wander- ing through the forest, and accidentally found our camp. Notwith- standing our unfortunate circumstances, and our dangerous situa- tion, surrounded by hostile savages, our meeting fortunately in the wilderness, gave us the most sensible satisfaction. Soon after this, my companion in captivity, John Stuart, was killed by the savages; and the man that came with my brother returned home by himself. We were then in a dangerous, helpless situation, ex- posed daily to perils and deaths among the savages and wild beasts, not a white man in the country but ourselves. Thus, many hun- dred miles from our families, in the howling wilderness, we did not continue in a state of indolence, but hunted every day, and prepared a little cottage to protect us from the winter storm?. We met with no disturbance during the winter. On the first of May, 1770, my brother returned home by himself for a new recruit of horses and ammunition, leaving me alone, without bread, salt or sugar, or even a horse or a dog. I passed a few days uncomfort- bly . The idea of a beloved wife and family, and their anxiety on 564 DANIEL BOOiNE. my account, would have exposed me to melancholy, if I had fur- ther indulged the thought. One day I undertook a tour through the country, when the diversity and beauties of nature I met with in this charming season, expelled every gloomy thought. Just at the close of the day, the gentle gales ceased; a profound calm en- sued; not a breath shook the tremulous leaf. I had gained the summit of a commanding ridge, and looking round with astonish- ment and delight, beheld the ample plains and beauteous tracts below. On one hand, the famous Ohio, rolling in silent dignity, and marking the western boundary of Kentucky with inconceiv- able grandeur. At a vast distance I beheld the mountains lift their venerable brows and penetrate the clouds. All things were still. I kindled a fire near a fountain of sweet water, and feasted on the loin of a buck, which a few hours before I had killed. The shades of night soon overspread the hemisphere, and the earth seemed to gasp after the hovering moisture. My excursion had fatigued my body and amused my mind. 1 laid me down to sleep, and awoke not until the sun had chased away the night. I continued this tour, and in a few days explored a great part of the country, each day equally pleased as the first; after which I returned to my old camp, which had not been disturbed in my absence. I did not confine my lodging to it, but often re- posed in thick cane-brakes, to avoid the savages, who, I believe, often visited my camp, but fortunately during my absence. No populous city, with all the varieties of commerce and stately structures, could afford so much pleasure to my mind as the beau- ties of nature I found in this country. Until the 27th of July, I spent the time in an uninterrupted scene of sylvan pleasures, when my brother, to my great felicity, met me, according to ap- pointment, at our old camp. Soon after, we left the place, and proceeded to Cumberland river, reconnoitering that part of the country, and giving names to the different rivers. In March, 1771, 1 returned home to my family, being deter- mined to bring them as soon as possible, at the risk of my life and fortune, to reside in Kentucky, Avhich I estemed a second pamdise . On my return, I found my family in happy circumstances. I sold my farm at Yadr in, and what goods we could not carry with us ; and on the 25th ot September, 1773, we bade farewell to our DANIEL BOONE. 565 friends, and proceeded on our journey to Kentucky, in company with five more families, and forty men that joined us in Powell's valley, which is one hundred and fifty miles from the now settled parts of Kentucky ; but this promising beginning was soon over- cast with a cloud of adversity. On the 10th of October, the rear of our company was attacked by a number of Indians, who killed six and wounded one man. Of these, my eldest son was one that fell in the action. Though we repulsed the enemy, yet this un- happy affair scattered our cattle, brought us into extreme difficulty, and so discouraged the whole company, that we retreated forty miles to Clench River. We had passed over two mountains, Pow- ell's and Walden's, and were approaching Cumberland mountain when this adverse fortune overtook us. These mountains are in the wilderness, in passing from the old settlements in Virginia to Kentucky, are ranged in a S. W. and N. E. direction, are of great length and breadth, and not far distant from each other. Over them nature has formed passes, less difficult than might be ex- pected from the view of such huge piles. The aspect of these cliffs is so wild and horrid, that it is impossible to behold them with- out terror. Until the 6th of June, 1774, 1 remained with my family on the Clench, when I and Michael Stoner were solicited by governor Dunmore, of Virginia, to conduct a number of sur- veyors to the falls of Ohio. This was a tour of near eight hun- dred miles, and took us sixty-two days. On my return, governor Dunmore gave me the command of three garrisons, during the campaign against the Shawanese. In March 1775, at the solicitation of a number of gentlemen of North Carolina, I attended their treaty at Wataga with the Chero- kee Indians, to purchase the lands on the south side of Kentucky river. After this I undertook to mark out a road in the best pas- sage from the settlements, through the wilderness, to Kentucky. Having collected a number of enterprising men, well armed, I soon began this work. We proceeded until we came within fif- teen miles of where Boonsborough now stands, where the Indians attacked us, and killed two, and wounded two more. This was the 20th of March, 1775. Three days after, they attacked us again; we had two killed and three wounded. After this we proceeded on to Kentucky river without opposition. On the first of April, 566 DAMEl BOOXE. wc began to erect the fort of Boonsborough, at a salt lick, sixt}' yards from tJic river, on the soutli side. On the 4th, they killed one of our men. On the 14th of June, having finished the fort, I returned to my family on the Clench. Soon aller I removed my family to this fort: wc arrived safe; my wife and daughters being the first white women that stood on the banks of Kentucky river. December 24th, the Indians killed one man and wounded another, seeming determined to persecute us for erecting this tort. July 14th, 1776, two of colonel Colway's daughters, and one of mine, were taken prisoners near the fort. I immediately pursued the Indians with only eighteen men. On the 16th, I overtook them, killed two of them, and recovered the girls. The Indians had di- vided themselves into several parties, and attacked on the same da}', all our settlements and forts, doing a great deal of mischief. The husbandman was shot dead in the field, and most of the cattle were destroyed. They continued their hostilities until the 15th of April, 1777, when a party of one hundred of them attacked Boonsbo- rough, and killed one man and wounded four. July 4th, they at- tacked it again with two hundred men, and killed one of us and wounded two. They remained forty-eight hours, during which wc killed seven of them. All the settlements were attacked at the same time. July 19th, colonel Logan's fort was besieged by two hundred Indians. They did much mischief: there were only fifteen men in the fort; they killed two, and wounded four of them. Indians' loss unknown. July 25th, twenty -five men came from Carolina. About August 20th, colonel Bowman arrived with one hundred men from Virginia. Now we began to strengthen, and had skirmishes with the Indians almost every day. The savages now learned the superiority of the long-knife, as they called the Virginians, being out-generalled almost in every battle. Our af- fairs began to wear a new aspect; the enemy did not now venture upon war, but practised secret mischief. January 1st, 1778, I went with thirty men to the Blue-licks, on Licking river, to make salt for the different garrisons. February 7th, hunting by myself to procure meat for the company, I met a patty of one hundred and two Indians, and two Frenchmen, marching against Boonsborough. They pursued and took me. The next day I capitulated for my men, knowing they could not escape. They were twenty-seven DANIEL DOOXE. 567 i-n number, three having gone homo with salt. The Indians, ac- cording to the capituhition, used u.s generously. They carried us to Old Chillicothe, the principal Indian town on the Little Miami, On the 18th of February, wo arrived there, after an uncomforta- ble journey, in very severe weather. On the 10th of March, 1 and ten of my men were conducted to Detroit. On the 30th, we arrived there, and were treated by governor Hamilton, the British commander at that post, with great humanity. The Indians had such an affection for me, that they refused one hundred pounds sterling offered thcrn by the governor, if they would leave me with the others, on purpose that he might send me home on my parole. Several English gentlemen there, sensible oi' my adverse fortune, and touched with sympathy, generously offered to supply rny wants, which I declined with many thanks, adding, that I never expected it would be in my power to recompense such unmerited generosi- ty. On the 10th of April they brought me towards Old Chillicothe, where we arrived on the 25th day of the same month. This was a long and fatiguing march through an exceeding fertile country, remarkable for fine springs and streams of water. At Chillicothe I spent my time as comfortably as 1 could expect; was adopted according to their custom, into a family, where I became a son, and had a great share in the affections of my new parents, broth- ers, sisters, and friends. I was exceedingly familiar and friendly with them, always appearing as cheerful and satisfied as possible, and they put great confidence in me. I often went a hunting with them, and frequently gained their applause for my activity. At our shooting matches, I was careful not to exceed many of them in shooting,- for no people are more envious than they arc in this sport. I could observe in their countenances and gestures the greatest expressions of joy when they exceeded me, and when the reverse happened, of envy. The Shawanese king took great notice of me, treated me with profound respect and entire friend- ship, and often entrusted me to hunt at my liberty. 1 frequently returned with the spoils of the woods, and as often presented .some of what I had taken to him, expressive of my duty to my sovereign. My food and lodging were in common with tliemj not so good, in- deed, as 1 could desire, but necessity made every thing acceptable. I now began to meditate an escape, but carefully avoided giving 568 DANIEL BOONE, suspicion. Until the 1st of June, I continued at Old Chillicothe, and then was taken to the salt springs on the Scioto, and kept there ten days making salt. During this time I hunted with them and found the land, for a great extent about this river, to exceed the soil of Kentucky, if possible, and remarkably well watered. On my return to Chillicothe, four hundred and fifty of the choicest Indian warriors were ready to march against Boonsborough, paint- ed and armed in a dreadful manner. This alarmed me, and 1 de- termined to escape. On the 16th of June, before sunrise, I went off secretly, and reached Boonsborough on the 20th, a journey of one hundred and sixty miles, during which I had one meal. 1 found our fortress in a bad state; but we immediately repaired our flanks, gates, posterns, and formed double bastions, which we com- pleted in ten days. One of my fellow-prisoners escaped after me, and brought advice that on account of my flight the Indians had put off the expedition for three weeks. About August 1st, I set out with nineteen men to surprise Paint Creek town, on Scioto. Within four miles we fell in with thirty Indians, going against Boonsborough. We fought, and the enemy gave way. We sufiered no loss. The enemy had one killed and two wounded. We took three horses, and all their baggage. The Indians having evacuated their town, and gone altogether against Boonsborough, we returned, passed them on the 6th day, and on the 7th, arrived safe at Boonsborough. On the 8th the Indian ar- my, four hundred and forty-four in number, commanded by cap- tain Duguesne, and eleven other Frenchmen, and their own chiefs, came and summoned the fort. I requested two days considera- tion, which they gi-anted. During this, we brought in, through the posterns, all the horses and other cattle we could collect. On the 9th, in the evening, I informed their commander that we were determined to defend the fort while a man was living. They then proposed a treaty, and said, if we sent out nine men to conclude it, they would withdraw. The treaty was held within sixty yards of the fort, and we suspected the savages. The articles were agreed to and signed ; when the Indians told us it was their custom for two Indians to shake hands with every white man, as aa evi- dence of friendship. We agreed to this also. They immediately grappled us to take us prisoners ; but we cleared ourselves of DANIEL BOONE. 569 them, though surrounded by hundreds, and gained the fort safelv, except one that was wounded by a heavy fire from their army. On this they began to undermine the fort, beginning at the water mark of Kentucky river, which is sixty yards from the fort. We discovered this by the water being made muddy with the clay, and countermined them by cutting a trench across their subterranean passage. The enemy discovering this by the clay we threw out of the fort, desisted. On the 20th of August, they raised the siege. During this dreadful siege, we had two men killed and four wounded. We lost a number of cattle. We killed thirty- seven of the enemy, and wounded a great number. We picked up one hundred and twenty-five pounds of their bullets, besides what stuck in the logs of the fort. Soon after this I went into the settlement, and nothing worthy of notice passed for some time. In July, 1779, during my absence, colonel Bowman, with one hundred and sixty men, went against the Shawanese at Old Chil- licothe. He arrived undiscovered 5 a battle ensued, which lasted till ten in the morning, when colonel Bowman retreated thirty miles. The Indians collected all their strength and pursued him, when another engagement ensued for two hours, not to colonel Bowman's advantage. Colonel Harrod proposed to mount a num- ber of horses and break the enemy's line. \vho at this time fought with remarkable fury. This desperate measure had a happy ef- fect, and the savages fled on all sides. In these two battles we had nine men killed and one wounded. The enemy's loss was un- certain, only two scalps being taken. June 22d, 1780, about six hundred Indians and Canadians, un- der colonel Bird, attacked Riddle's and Martin's stations, and the forts of Licking river, with six pieces of artillery. They took all the inhabitants captive, and killed one man and two women, and loaded the others with the heavy baggage, and such as failed in the journey were tomahawked. The hostile disposition of the savages caused general Clark, the commandant of the Falls of Ohio, to march with his regiment, and the armed force of the country, against Peccaway, the principal town of the Shawanese, on a branch of the Great Miami, which he finished with great suc- cess, took seventeen scalps, and burned the town to ashes, with the loss of seventeen men. About this time I returned to Ken- 49 570 BANIEL BOONE. tucky with my family; for during my captivity, my wife, thinking me killed by the Indians, had transported my family and goods on horses, through the wilderness, amidst many dangers, to her fa- ther's house in North Carolina. The history of my difficulties in going and returning, is too long to be inserted here. On the 6th of October, 1780, soon after my settling again at Boonsborough, I went with my brother to the Blue Licks; and on our return he was shot by a party of Indians. They followed me by the scent of a dog, which I shot, and escaped. The severity of the winter caused great distress in Kentucky; the enemy dur- ing the summer having destroyed most of the corn. The inhab- itants lived chiefly on buffaloe's flesh. In the spring, 1783, the Indians harrassed us. In May, they killed one man at Ashton's station, and took a negro. Captain Ashton pursued them with twenty-five men ; and, in an engage- ment which lasted two hours, he was obliged to retreat, having eight killed and four mortally wounded. Their brave commander fell in the action, August 10th, two boys were carried off from major Hoy's station. Captain Holden pursued with seventeen men: they were also defeated, and lost four, and one wounded.— Our affairs became more and more alarming. The savages in- fested the country, killing men at every opportunity. In a field near Lexington, an Indian shot a man, and running to scalp him^ was himself shot from the fort, and fell dead upon his enemy. AH the Indian nations were now united against us. August 15th, five hundred Indians and Canadians came against Briant's station, five miles from Lexington, They assaulted the fort, and killed all the cattle around it; but being repulsed, they retired the third day, having about thirty killed, their wounded uncertain. The garrison had four killed and three wounded. August 18th, colonel Todd, colonel Trigg, major Harland, and myself, speedily collected one hundred and seventy-six men, well armed, and pursued the sav- ages. They had marched beyond the Blue Licks, to a remarkable bend of the main fork of Licking river, about forty-three miles from Lexington, where we overtook them on the 19th, The sav- ages observing us, gave way, and we, ignorant of their numbers, passed the river. When they saw our proceedings, having greatly jthe advantage in situation, they formed their line of battle from DANIEL BOONE. 571 one bend of Licking to the other, about a mile from the Blue Licks. The battle was exceedmgly fierce for about fifteen min- utes, when we, being overpowered by numbers, were obliged to retreat, with the loss of sixty-seven men, seven of whom were taken prisoners. The brave and much lamented colonels Todd and Trigg, major Harland, and my second son, were among the dead. We were afterwards told that the Indians, on numbering their dead, finding that they had four more killed than we, gave up four of our people that they had taken, to their young warrior?, t© be put to death after their barbarous manner. On our retreat we were met by colonel Logan, who was hastening to join us with a number of well armed men. This powerful assistance we wanted on the day of battle. The enemy said, one more fire from us would have made them give way. I cannot reflect upon this dreadful scene, but sorrow fills my heart. A zeal for the defence of their country led these heroes to the scene of action, though with a few men, to attack a powerful army of experienced war- riors. When we gave way, they pursued us with the utmost eager- ness, and in every quarter spread destruction. The river weis difficult to cross, and many were killed in the flight; some just entering the river, some in the w^ater, others after crossing, in as- cending the cliffs. Some escaped on horseback, a few on foot ; and being dispersed every where, a k\v hours brought the melan- choly news of this unfortunate battle to Lexington. Many widows were now made. The reader may guess what sorrow filled the hearts of the inhabitants, exceeding any thing I am able to de- scribe. Being reinforced, we returned to bury the dead, and found their bodies strewed every where, cut and mangled in a dreadful manner. This mournful scene exhibited a horror almost unparalleled: some torn and eaten by wild beasts; those in the river eaten by fish; all in such a putrified condition, that no one could be distinguished from another. When general Clark, at the Falls of Ohio, heard of our disaster, he ordered an expedition to pursue the savages. We overtook them within two miles of their towns, and we should have obtained a great victory, had not some of them met us when about two hundred poles from their camp. The savages fled in the utmost disorder, and evacuated all their towns. We burned to ashes Old Chillicothe, Peccaway,<^rew 572 ALEXANDER HAMILTON. Chillicothe, Will's Town, and Chillicothe ; entirely destroyed their corn and other fruits, and spread desolation through their country. We took seven prisoners and five scalps, and lost only four men, two of whom were accidentally killed by ourselves. This campaign damped the enemy ,• yet they made secret in- cursions. In October, a party attacked Crab Orchard, and one of them, being a good way before the others, boldly entered a house, in which Avere only a woman and her children, and a ne- gro man. The savage used no violence, but made an attempt to carry off the negro, who happily proved too strong for him and threw him on the ground, and in the struggle the woman cut off his head with an axe, whilst her daughter shut the door. The savages instantly came up, and applied their tomahawks to the door, when the mother putting an old rusty gun barrel through the crevice, the savages went off. From that time till the happy return of peace between the United States and Great Britain, the Indians did us no more mischief. Soon after, the Indians desired peace. Two darling sons, and a brother, I have lost by savage hands, who have also taken forty horses and an. abundance of cattle. Many dark and sleepless nights have I spent, separated from the cheerful society of men, scorched by the summer's sun, and pinched by the winter's cold, an instrument ordained to settle the wilderness. But now the scene is changed — peace crowns the sylvan shade. DANIEL BOONE, Fayette county, Kentucky." ALEXANDER HAMILTON, Inspector-General in the American Armv. Colonel Hamilton was a native of the island of St. Croix, and was born in 1757. His father was the younger son of an English family, and his mother was an American lady of respectable con- nexions. At the age of sixteen, he accompanied his mother to New-York, and entered a student of King's (now Columbia) Col- lege, in which he continued about three years. While a member of this institution, the first buddings of his intellect gave pre- sages of his future eminence. The contest with Great Britain called forth the first talents on each side, and his juvenile pen asserted the violated rights of the ALEXANDER HA3ULT0N. 573 American colonies against the most respectable writers. His pa- pers exhibited such evidence of intellect and wisdom, that they were ascribed to Mr. Jay; and when the truth was discovered, America saw, with astonishment, a lad of seventeen in the list of her able advocates. The first sound of war awakened his martial spirit, and at the age of eighteen he entered the American army as captain, in the corps of artillery. Soon after the war was transferred to the Hud- son, in 1777, his superior endowments recommended him to the attention of the commander-in-chief, into whose family, before completing his twenty -first year, he was invited to enter as an aid, with the rank of lieutenant-colonel. Equally brave and intelli- gent, he continued in this situation to display a degree of firm- ness and capacity which commanded the confidence and esteem of the principal officers in the army. His sound understanding, comprehensive views, application and promptitude, soon gained him the entire confidence of general Washington. In such a school, it was impossible but that his genius should be nourished. By intercourse with his general, by surveying his plans, observing his consummate prudence, by a minute inspection of the springs of national operations, he became fitted for command. Throughout the campaign which terminated in the capture of lord Cornwallis, colonel Hamilton commanded a battalion of light infantry. Atthe siege of York, in 1781, when the second paral- lel was opened, two redoubts, which flanked it, and were advanced three hundred yards in front of the .British works, very much an- noyed the men in the trenches : it was resolved to possess them ; and to prevent jealousies, the attack of one was committed to the French, and of the other to the Americans. The detachment of the Americans was commanded by the marquis de Lafayette ; and colonel Hamilton, at his own earnest request led the advanced corps, consisting of two battalions. Towards the close of the day, on the fourteenth of October, the troops rushed to the charge without firing a single gun ; and so great was their ardor that they did not give the sappers time to remove the abattis and pallisades. Passing over them, they assailed the works with irresistible impet- uosity ou all sides at once, and entered them with such rapidity 49* 574 ALEXANDER HAMILTON. that their loss was inconsiderable. The irritation produced by the recent carnage at Fort Griswold, had not so far subdued the humanity of the American character as to induce retaliation. — Not a man was killed except in action. "Incapable," said colo- nel Hamilton, in his report, "of imitating examples of barbarity, and forgetting recent provocation, the soldiery spared every man that ceased to resist." Soon after the capture of Cornwallis, Hamilton sheathed his sword, and being encumbered with a family, and destitute of funds, at the age of twenty -five, applied to the study of the law. In this profession he soon rose to distinction. But the critical circum- stances of the existing government induced him to accept a seat in the congress of the United States. In all important acts of the day he performed a conspicuous part, and was greatly distin- guished among those distinguished characters whom the crisis had attracted to the councils of the country. Being a member of con- gress while the question of the commutation of the half pay of the army for a sum in gross was in debate, delicacy, and a desire to be useful to the army, by removing the idea of his having an interest in the question, induced him to write to the secretary of war, and relinquish his claim to half pay, which, or the equiva- lent, he never received. We have now arrived at an interesting and important period in the life of Hamilton. After witnessing the debility of the old confedera|ion, and its inefficiency to accomplish the objects pro- posed by its articles, viz : "common defence, security and liberty, and general welfare," a convention of the states was agreed upon, for the purpose of forming an efficient federal government. In this convention was collected the sound wisdom of the country — the patriots and sages who, by their valor and their prudence, had carried her triumphantly through the stormy period of the revo- lution, and had given her a name among the nations of the earth. To this convention Hamilton was appointed a delegate from the state of New-York. It convened at the state-house, in Philadel- phia, May 25th, 1787. A unanimous vote placed general Wash- ington in the chair. "It was soon found," says Mr. Martin, one of the delegates from Maryland, "there were among us three parties of very different AlBXANDER HAMILTON. 575 sentiments and views. One party, whose object and wish it was to abolish and annihilate all state governments, and to bring for- ward one general government over this extensive continent, of a monarchial nature, under certain restrictions and limitations: — Those who openly avowed this sentiment were, it is true, but few ; yet it is equally true, sir, that there was a considerable number who did not openly avow it, who were, by myself and many others of the convention, considered as being in reality favorers of that sentiment, and acting upon those principles, covertly endeavoring to carry into effect what they well knew openly and avowedly could not be accomplished. "The second party was not for the abolition of the state govern- ments nor for the introduction of a monarchial government under any form : but they wished to establish such a system as could give their own states an undue power and influence in the gov- ernment over the other states. '•'A third party was what I considered truly federal and repub- lican; this party was nearly equal in number with the other two, and were composed of the delegates from Connecticut, New-York, New-Jersey, Delaware, and in part from Maryland ; also of some individuals from other representations." During the heat of party animosity, much was said and writ- ten of the monarchial views of Hamilton, and of his attempts, in the convention which formed our constitution, to carry those views into effect. How far the sentiments imputed to him are correct, the following paper read by him as containing his ideas of a suitable plan of government for the United States, will show: "1. The supreme legislative power of the United States of America to be vested in two distinct bodies of men, the one to be called the assembly, the other the senate, who together shall form the legislature of the United States, with power to pass all laws whatsoever, subject to the negative hereafter mentioned. "2. The assembly to consist of persons elected by the people, to serve for three years. "3. The senate to consist of persons elected to serve during good behaviour; their election to be made by electors chosen for that purpose by the people. In order to this, the states to be di- vided into election districts. On the death, removal, or resigna- 576 ALEXANDER HAMILTON. tion of any senator, his place to be filled out of the district from which he came. "4. The supreme executive authority of the United States to be vested in a governor, to be elected to serve during good beha- viour. His election to be made by electors chosen by the people, in the election districts aforesaid. His authorities and functions to be as follows: "To have a negative upon all laws about to be passed, and the execution of all laws passed; to have the entire direction of war, when authorized or begun ; to have, with the advice and approba- tion of the senate, the power of making all treaties ; to have the sole appointment of the heads or chief officers of the departments of finance, war and foreign aflfairs; to have the nomination of all other officers, (ambassadors to foreign nations included,) subject to the approbation or rejection of the senate; to have the power of pardoning all offences, except treason, which he shall not par- don without the approbation of the senate. "5. On the death, resignation, or removal of the governor, his authority to be exercised by the president of the senate, until a suc- cessor be appointed. "6. The senate to have the sole power of declaring war; the power of advising and approving all treaties ; the power of ap- proving or rejecting all appointments of officers, except the heads or chiefs of the departments of finance, war and foreign affairs. "7. The supreme judicial authority of the United States to be vested in judges, to hold their offices during good behaviour, with adequate and permanent salaries. This court to have ori- ginal jurisdiction in all cases of capture, and an appellative juris- diction in all causes in which the revenues of the general govern- ment, or citizens of foreign nations, are concerned. "8. The legislature of the United States to have power to insti- tute courts in each state, for the determination of all matters of general concern. "9. The governors, senators and all officers of the United States, to be liable to impeachment for mal and corrupt conduct; and upon conviction, to be removed from office, and disqualified from holding any place of trust or profit. All impeachments to be tried by a court to consist of the chief, or senior judge of the ALEXANDER HAMILTON. 577 superior court of law in each state; provided that such judge hold his place during good behaviour, and have a permanent salary. "10. All laws of the particular states, contrary to the constitu- tion or laws of the United States, to be utterly void. And the better to prevent such laws being passed, the governor or presi- dent of each state shall be appointed by the general government, and shall have a negative upon the laws about to be passed in the state of which he is governor or president. "11. No state to have any forces, land or naval; and the militia of all the states to be under the sole and exclusive direction of the United States ; the officers of which to be appointed and commis- sioned by them." Such being the views of Hamilton, the constitution framed by the convention did not completely meet his wishes. He was afraid it did not contain sufficient means of strength for its own pre- servation, and that in consequence we should share the fate of many other republics, and pass through anarchy to despotism. He was in favor of a more permanent executive and senate. He wished for a strong government, which would not be shaken by the conflict of different interests through an extensive territory, and which should be adequate to all forms of national exigency. He was apprehensive that the increased wealth and population of the states would lead to encroachments on the union. These were his views and feelings, and he freely and honestly expressed them. A respectable member of the convention once remarked, that if the constitution did not succeed on trial, Mr. Hamilton was less responsible for that result than any other member, for he fully and frankly pointed out to the convention what he apprehended were the infirmities to which it was liable. And that if it answered the fond expectations of the public, the community would be more in- debted to Mr. Hamilton than any other member ; for after its es- sential outlines were agreed to, he labored most indefatigably to heal those infirmities, and to guard against the evils to which they might expose it. The patriotism of Mr. Hamilton was not of that kind which yields every thing because it cannot accomplish all that it desires. Believing the constitution incomparably superior to the old confed- eration, he exerted all his talents in its support. 578 ALEXANDER HAMLTON. After the publication of the constitutionj Hamilton, in concert with Mr. Jay and Mr. Madison, commenced the "Federahst," a series of essays, addressed to the people of the state of New- York, in favor of the adoption of the constitution. These papers first made their appearance in the daily prints, early in Novem- ber, 1787, and the work was not concluded until a short time pre-* vious to the meeting of the state convention, in June, 1788. It was well understood that Mr. Hamilton was the principal author, and wrote at least three-fourths of the number. This work is not to be classed among the ephemeral productions which are calcu- lated to produce a party purpose, and when that purpose is an- swered, to expire forever. It is a profound and learned disquisi- tion on the principles of a federal representative government, and combines an ardent attachment to public liberty. This work will no doubt endure as long as any of the republican institutions of this country, on which it is so luminous and elegant a commentary. His voice co-operated with his pen. In the convention of the state, which met to deliberate on the federal constitution, he was returned a member^ and was always heard with awcy perhaps with conviction, though not always with success. But when the crisis arrived ; when a vote was to determine whether New-York should retain or relinquish her place in the union, and preceding occur- rences made it probable that she would choose the worst part of the alternative, Hamilton arose in redoubled strength. He argued, he remonstrated, he entreated, he warned, he painted, till apa- thy itself was moved, and the most relentless of human beings, a preconcerted majority, was staggered and broken. Truth was again victorious, and New-York enrolled herself under the stand, ard of tiie federal constitution. The constitution having gone into operation, and the executive departments being established, Mr. Hamilton was appointed, in the summer of 1780, to the office of secretary of the treasury. The task of recruiting public credit, of drawing order and antingement from the chaotic confusion in which the finances of America were involved, and of devising means which should render the revenue productive, and commensurate with the demand, in a manner least burthensonie to the people, was justly classed among the most ar- duous of the duties which devolved on the new government. ALEXANDER HAMILTON. 579 This office he held between five and six year? ; and when we look back to the measures that within that period he originated, matured and vindicated, we are astonished in the contemplation of the various powers of his ingenious and exalted mind. Mr. Ham- ilton is justly considered the founder of the public credit of this country. The manner in which the several states entered into and con- ducted the war of the revolution will be recollected. Actinf^ in some respects separately, and in others conjointly, for the attain- ment of a common object, their resources were exerted, some- times under the authority of congress, sometimes under the au- thority of the local governments, to repel the enemy wherever he came. The debt incurred in the support of the war was there- fore, in the first instance, contracted partly by the continent, and partly by the states. When the system of requisition was adoptr ed, the transactions of the union were carried on, in a great de- gree through the agency of the states, and when the measure of compensating the army for the depreciation of their pay became necessary, this burden under the recommendation of congress, was assumed by the respective states. In their exertions to meet the calls of congress, some degree of inequality had obtained, and they looked anxiously to a settlement of accounts between them. To assume these debts, and to fund them in common with that which continued to be the proper debt of the union, was proposed by Mr. Hamilton, in his first report to congress, as secretary of the treasury. This celebrated report, which has been alike the fruitful theme of extravagant praise and bitter censure, was rigorously opposed in congress. It was agreed by all that the foreign debt should be provided for in the manner proposed by the secretary, but with respect to the domestic debt, the same unanimity was far from pre- vailing. It was contended that the general government would acquire an undue influence, and that the state governments would be annihilated by the measure. Not only would all the influence of the public creditors be thrown into the scale of the former, but it would absorb all the powers of taxation, and leave the latter only the shadow of a government. This would probably termi- nate in rendering the state governments useless, and would des- 580 ALEXANDER HAMILTON. troy the system so recently established. The constitutional au- thority of the federal government to assume these debts was questioned. On the ground of policy it was objected, that the assumption would impose on the United States a burden, the weight of which was unascertained, and which would require an extension of tax- ation beyond the limits which prudence would prescribe. That the debt, by being thus accumulated, would be perpetuated ; and the secretary was charged with the doctrine, "that a public debt was a public blessing." The measure was said to be unwise too, as it would affect the public credit. Such an augmentation of the debt must inevitably depreciate its value; since it was the character of paper, what- ever denomination it might assume, to diminish in value in pro- portion to the quantity in circulation. In support of the assumption, the debts of the states were traced to their origin. America, it was said, had engaged in a war, the object of which was equally interesting to every part of the Union. It was not the war of a particular state, but of the United States. It was not the liberty and independence of a part, but of the whole, for which they had contended, and which they had acquired. The cause was a common cause. As brethren, the American people had consented to hazard property and life in its defence. All the sums expended in this great object, whatever might be the authori- ty under which they were raised or appropriated, conduced to the same end. Troops were raised, and military stores were pur- chased, before congress assumed the command of the army, or ■control of the war. The ammunition which repulsed the enemy at Bunker's Hill, was purchased by Massachusetts, and formed a part of the debt of that state. The great moving principle which governed Hamilton in his department, was good faith. "Public credit," said he, "could only be maintained by good faith; by a punctual performance of con- tracts." And good faith was not only recommended by the strong- est inducements of political expediency, but was enforced by considerations of still higher authority. There are arguments for it, which rest on the immutable principle of moral obligation; and in proportion as the mind is disposed to contemplate, in the orde;r ALEXANDER HAMILTON. 581 of Providence, an intimate connexion between public virtue and public happiness, will be its repugnancy to a violation of those principles. "This reflection," he said, "derived additional strength from the nature of the debt of the United States. It loas the price of liberty. The faith of America had been repeatedly pledged for it, and with a solemnity that gave peculiar force to the obligation." His report, though strenuously opposed, was finally adopted; and und€r his administration, the finances advanced to a state of prosperity beyond all expectation. Commerce revived ; agricul- tAire flourished ; property recovered its value ; credit was estab- lished; revenue created; the treasury filled. In January, 1795, Hamilton resigned the office of secretary of the treasury, and retired to private life. He entered the public service with property of his own, the reA^ard of professional ta< lent; he continued in it till his funds were gone, and left it to get bread for a suffering family. The last great occasion which called Hamilton upon the theatre of public action, existed in the spring of the year 1798. It will be recollected that France had long been making depredations ■upon our commerce ; that our ministers had been treated with the grossest indignity, and money demanded of the United States on terms the most degrading. Open and determined war was the consequence. Washington was appointed lieutenant-general and commander-in-chief. The following letter to president Adams, on the subject of appointing Hamilton second in command, shows his high standing in the opinion of the illustrious Washington. "Mount Verno7i, Sept. 25, 1798. "It is an invidious task, at all times, to draw comparisons, and I shall avoid it as much as possible ; but I have no hesitation in declaring, that if the public is to be deprived of the services of colonel Hamilton in the military line, the post he was destined to fill will not be easily supplied — and that this is the sentiment of the public, I think I may venture to pronounce. Although colonel Hamilton has never acted in the character of a general officer, yet his opportunities, as the principal and most confidential aid of the commander-in-chief, afforded him the means of viewing every thing on a larger scale than those who had only divisions 50 582 ALEXANDER HAMILTON. and brigades to attend to; who knew nothing of the correspond- ences of the commander-in-chief, or the various orders to, or trans- actions with, the general staff of the army. These advantages, and his having served in the old congress, in the general conven- tion, and having filled one of the most important departments of government with acknowledged ability and integrity, have placed him on high ground, and made him a conspicuous character in the United States, and even in Europe. To these, as a matter of no small consideration, may be added, that as a lucrative practice in the line of his profession is his most certain dependence, the in- ducement to relinquish it must, in some degree, be commensurate. By some he is considered an ambitious man, and therefore a dan- gerous one. That he is ambitious, I shall readily grant; but it is of that laudable kind, which prompts a man to excel in whatever he takes in hand. He .is enterprising, quick in his perceptions^ and his judgment intuitively great — qualities essential to a gre?it military character; and therefore I repeat, that his loss will be irreparable. GEORGE WASHINGTON-" Hamilton was accordingly appointed inspector-general, with the rank of major-general. When the differences with France were settled, and the army was disbanded, in 1800, he returned again to his profession in the city of New-York. In June, 1804, colonel Burr, vice-president of the United States, addressed a letter to general Hamilton, requiring his acknowledg- ment or denial of the use of any expression derogatory to the honor of the former. The correspondence which led to the fata! interview, is here given at length. New-York, June 18, 1804. Sir — I send for your perusal a letter signed Charles D. Cooper, which, though apparently published sometime ago, has but very recently came to my knowledge. Mr. Van Ness, who does me the favor to deliver this, will point out to you that clause of the letter to which I particularly request your attention. You must perceive, sir, the necessity of a prompt and unquali- fied acknowledgment or denial of the use of any expression which would warrant the assertion of Dr. Cooper. I have the honor to be your obedient serv't, Oen. Hamilton. A. BURR. ALEXANDER HAMILTON. 583 New-York, June 20, 1804. Sir— I have maturely reflected on the subject of your letter of the 18th inst., and the more I have reflected, the more have I be- come convinced that I could not, without manifest impropriety, make the avowal or disavowal which you seem to think necessa- ry. The clause pointed out by Mr. Van Ness, is in these terms : "I could detail to you a still more despicable opinion which gene- ral Hamilton has expressed of Mr. Burr." To endeavor to dis- cover the meaning of this declaration, I was obliged to seek, in the antecedent part of this letter, for the opinion to which it re- ferred, as having been already disclosed. I found it in these words : — "general Hamilton and judge Kent have declared in substance, that they looked upon Mr. Burr to be a dangerous man, and one who ought not to be trusted with the reins of government." The language of Dr. Cooper plainly implies ; that he consid- ered this opinion of you, which he attributes to me, as a despi- cable one ; but he affirms that I have expressed some other more despicable, without, however, mentioning to whom, when or where. 'Tis evident that the phrase "still more despicable," admits of in- finite shades, from very light to very dark. How am I to judge of the degree intended? or how shall I annex any precise idea to language so indefinite? Between gentlemen, despicable and more despicable are not worth the pains of distinction ; when, therefore, you do not inter- rogate me, as to the opinion which is specifically ascribed to me, I must conclude that you view it as within the limits to which the animadversions of political opponents upon each other may justi- fiably extend, and consequently as not warranting the idea of it which Dr. Cooper appears to entertain, if so, what precise in- ference could you draw, as a guide for your conduct, were I to ac- knowledge that I had expressed an opinion of you still more des- picable than the one which is particularized? How could you be sure that even this opinion had exceeded the bounds which you would yourself deem admissible between political opponents. But I forbear further comment on the embarrassment to which the requisition you have made naturally leads. The occasion forbids a more ample illustration, though nothing could be more easy than topursue it. 584 ALEXANDER HAMILTON, Repeating that I cannot reconcile it with propriety to make the acknowledgment or denial you desire, I will add that I deem it in- admissible on principle, to consent to be interrogated as to the justness of the inferences which may be drawn by others fronii whatever I may have said of a political opponent, in the course of fifteen years competition. If there were no other objection to itj this is sufficient, that it would tend to expose my sincerity and del- icacy to injurious imputations from every person who may at any time have conceived the import of my expressions differently from what I may then have intended, or may afterward recollect. I stand ready to avow or disavow, promptly and explicitly, any pre- cise or definite opinion which I may be charged with having de- clared of any gentleman. More than this cannot be fitly ex- pected from me ; and especially it cannot be reasonably expected that I shall enter into an explanation upon a basis so vague as that which you have adopted. I trust, on more reflection, you will see the matter in the same light with me. If not, I can only regre? the circumstance, and must abide the consequences. The publication of Dr. Cooper was never seen by me till after the receipt of your letter. I have the honor to be, &c, €ol. BuRK. A. HAMILTON. • Nexo-York,2\stJune,\%04:. Sir — Your letter of the 20th inst. has been this day received. Having considered it attentively, I regret to find in it nothing of that sincerity and delicacy which you profess to value. Political opposition can never absolve gentlemen from the ne- cessity of a rigid adherence to the laws of honor, and the rules of decorum. I neither claim such privilege nor indulge it in others. The common sense of mankind affixes to the epithet adopted by Dr. Cooper, the idea of dishonor. It has been publicly applied to me under the sanction of your name. The question is not, whether he has understood the meaning of the word^ or has used it according to syntax, and with grammatical accuracy, but wheth- er you have authorised this application, either directly or by ut- tering expressions or opinions derogatory to my honor. The time "when" is in your own knowledge, but no way material to me, as the calumny has now first been disclosed, so as to become the sub- ject of my notice, and as the effect is present and palpable. ALEXANDER HAMILTON. 585 Your letter has furnished me with new reasons for requiring a definite reply. I have the honor to be, Sir, your obedient. Gen. Hamilton. A. BURR. On Saturday, the 22d of June, general Hamilton, foi: the first time, called on Mr. Pendleton, and communicated to him the pre- ceding correspondence. He informed him that in a conversation with Mr. Van Ness, at the time of receiving the last letter, he told Mr. Van Ness that he considered that letter as rude and offensive, and that it was not possible for him to give it any other answer than that Mr. Burr must take such steps as he might think proper. He said further, that Mr. Van Ness requested him to take time to deliberate, and then return an answer, when he m.ight possibly entertain a different opinion, and that he would call on him to receive it. That his reply to Mr. Van Ness was, that he did not perceive it possible for him to give any other answer than that he had mentioned, unless Mr. Burr would take back his last letter and write one which would admit of a different reply. He then gave Mr. Pendleton the following letter, to be delivered to Mr. Van Ness when he should call on Mr. Pendleton for an answer. New-York, June 22d, 1804. Sir — ^Your first letter, in a style too peremptory, made a demand, in my opinion, unprecedented and unwarrantable. My answer, pointing out the embarrassment, gave you an opportunity to take a less exceptionable course. You have not chosen to do it; but by your last letter, received this day, containing expressions inde- corous and improper, you have increased the difficulties to ex- planation intrinsically incident to the nature of your application. If by a "definite reply," you mean the direct avowal or disa- vowal required in your first letter, I have no other answer to give than that which has already been given. If you mean any thing different, admitting of greater latitude, it is requisite you should explain. I have the honor to be, Sir, your obedient servant, Aaron Burr, Esq. ALEX. HAMILTON. This letter, although dated on the 22d of June, remained in Mr. Pendleton's possession until the 25th, within which period he had several conversations with Mr. Van Ness. In these conversations Mr. Pendleton endeavored to illustrate and enforce the propriety of the ground general Hamilton had taken. Mr. Pendleton men - 50*^ 586 ALEXANDER HAMILTON. tioned to Mr. Van Ness as the result, that if colonel Bun* would write a letter, requesting to know in substance, whether in the conversation to which Di*. Cooper alluded, any particular instance of dishonorable conduct was imputed to colonel Burr, or whether there was any impeachment of his private character, general Hajniiton would declare to the best of his recollection what passed in that conversation ; and Mr. Pendleton read to Mr. Van Ness a paper containing the substance of what general Hamilton would say on that subject, which is as follows: "General Hamilton says he cannot imagine to what Dr. Cooper may have alluded, unless it were to a conversation at Mr. Taylor's, in Albany, last winter, (at which he and general Hamilton were present,) general Hamilton cannot recollect distinctly the particu- lars of thiit conversation so as to undertake to repeat them, with- out running the risk of varying or omitting what might be deemed important circumstances. The expressions are entirely forgot- ten, and the specific ideas imperfectly remembered ; but to the hest of his recollection it consisted of comments on the political principles and views of colonel Burr, and the result that might be expected from them in the event of his election as governor, without reference to any particular instance of past conduct or to private character." ^ After the delivery of the letter of the 22d, as above mentioned, in another interview with Mr. Van Ness, he desired Mr. Pendleton to give him in uriting the substance of what he had proposed on the part of general Hamilton, which Mr. Pendleton did in the words following: "In answer to a letter properly adapted to obtain from general Hamilton a declaration whatever he had charged colonel Burr with any particular instance of dishonorable conduct, or had impeached his private character, either in the conversation alluded toby Dr. Cooper, or in any other particular mstance to be specified, he would be able to answer consistently with his honor, and the truth, in substance, that the conversation to which Dr. Cooper alluded, turned wholly on political topics, and did not attribute to colonel Burr any instance of dishonorable conduct, nor relate to his pri- vate character : and in relation to any other language or conver- ALEXANDER HAMILTO^^ 587 sadon of general Hamilton which colonel Burr will specify, a prompt and frank avowal or denial will be given." On the 26th of June, Mr. Pendleton received the following let- ter: Sir — The letter which you yesterday delivered me, and your subsequent communication, in colonel Burr's opinion, evince no" disposition on the part of general Hamilton to come to a satisfac- tor)" accommodation. The injury complained of, and the repara- tion expected, are so definitely expressed in colonel Burr's letter of the 21st inst., that there is not perceived a necessity for further explanation on his part. The difficulty that would result from con- fining the inquiry to any particular times and occasions must be manifest. The denial of a specified conversation only, would leave strong implications that on other occasions improper lan- guage had been used. When and where injurious opinions and expressions have been uttered by general Hamilton, must be best known to him, and of him only will colonel Burr inquire. No denial or declaration will he satisfactory, unless it he general, so as wholly to exclude the idea that rumors derogatory to colonel Burros honor have originated icith general Hamilton, or have been fairly inferred from any thing he has said. A definite reply to a requisition of this nature was demanded by colonel Burr's letter of the 21st inst. This being refused, invites the alternative alluded to in general Hamilton's letter of the 20th. It was required by the position in which the controversy was placed by general Hamilton, on Friday last, (June 22d,) and I was immediately furnished with a communication demanding a per- sonal interview. The necessity of this measure has not, in the opinion of colonel Burr, been diminished by the general's last letter, or any communication which has since been received. I am consequently again instructed to deliver you a message as soon as it may be convenient for you to receive it. I beg, therefore, you will be so good as to inform rae at what hour I can have the pleasure of seeing you. Your most obedient, and very humble servant, W. P. VAN NESS. Nathaniel Pendleton, Esq. June 26th. 588 ALEXANDER HAMILTON. 2Qth June, 1804, Sir — I have communicated the letter which you did me the honor to write to me of this date, to general Hamilton. The ex- pectations now disclosed on the part of colonel Burr, appear to him to have greatly extended the original ground of inquiry, and instead of presenting a particular and definite case of explana- tion, seemed to aim at nothing less than an inquisition into his most confidential conversations, as well as others, through the whole period of his acquaintance with colonel Burr. While he was prepared to meet the particular case fairly and fully, he thinks it inadmissible that he should be expected to answer at large as to every thing that he may possibly have said in relation to the character of colonel Burr, at any time, or upon any occasion. Though he is not conscious that any charges which are in circulation to the prejudice of colonel Burr, have originated with him, except one which may have been so considered, and which has long since been fully explained between colonel Burr and himself — yet he cannot consent to be questioned generally as to any rumors which may be afloat derogatory to the character of colonel Burr, without specification of the several rumors, many of them probably unknown to him. He does not, however, mean to authorize any conclusion as to the real nature of his conduct in relation to colonel Burr, by his declining so loose and vague a basis of explanation, and he disavows an unwillingness to come to a satisfactory, provided it be an honorable accommodation. His objection is, the very indifinite ground which colonel Burr has as- sumed, in which he is sorry to be able to discern nothing short of predetermined hostility. Presuming, therefore, that it will be ad- hered to, he has instructed me to receive the message which you have it in charge to deliver. For this purpose 1 shall be at home, and at your command, to-morrow morning, from 8 to 10 o'clock. I have the honor to be, respectfully, your obedient servant, Wm. p. Van Ness, Esq. NATHANIEL PENDLETON. Sir — The letter which I had the honor to receive from you under date of yesterday, states, among other things, that in gene- ral Hamilton's opinion, colonel Burr has taken a very indefinite ground, in which he evinces nothing short of predetermined hos- ALEXANDER HAMILTOK. 589 tility, and that general Hamilton thinks it inadmissible that the inquiry should extend to his confidential as well as other conver- sations. In this colonel Burr can only reply, that secret whispers, traducing his fame and impeaching his honor, are at least, equally injurious with slanders publicly uttered ; that general Hamilton had, at no time, and in no place, a right to use any such injurious expressions ; and that the partial negative he is disposed to give, with the reservations he wishes to make, are proofs that he has done the injury specified. Colonel Burr's request was, in the first instance, proposed in a form the most simple, in order that general Hamilton might give to the affair that course to which he might be induced by his tem- per, and his knowledge of facts. Colonel Burr trusted with con- fidence, that from the frankness of a soldier, and the candor of a gentleman, he might expect an ingenuous declaration. That if, as he had reason to believe, general Hamilton had used expressions derogatory to his honor, he would have had the magnanimity to retract them; and that if, from his language, injurious inferences had been improperly drawn, he would have perceived the proprie- ty of correcting errors which might thus have been widely diffused. With these impressions, colonel Burr was greatly surprised at receiving a letter which he considered as evasive, and w hich in a manner, he deemed not altogether decorous. In one expectation, however, he was not wholly deceived; for the close of general Hamilton's letter contained an intimation that if colonel Burr should dislike his refusal to acknowledge or deny, he was ready to meet the consequences. This colonel Burr deemed a sort of defiance, and would have felt justified in making it the basis of an immediate message. But as the communication contained some- thing concerning the indefiniteness of the request ; as he believed it rather the offspring of false pride than of reflection, and as he felt the utmost reluctance to proceed to extremeties, while a ny other hope remained, his request was repeated in terms more ex- plicit. The replies and propositions on the part of general Ham- ilton have, in colonel Burr's opinion, been constantly in substance the same. Colonel Burr disavows all motives of predetermined hostility, a charge by which he thinks insult added to injury. He feels as a 590 ALEXANDER HAMILTON. gentleman should feel when his honor is impeached or assailed; and without sensations of hostility, or wishes of revenge, he is determined to vindicate that honor at such hazard as the nature of the case demands. The length to which this correspondence has extended, only tending to prove that the satisfactory redress earnestly desired cannot be obtained, he deems it useless to offer any proposition ex- cept the simple message which 1 shall now have the honor to deliver. I have the honor to be, with great respect, Your humble servant, W. P. VAN NESS. Wednesday viorning, June 27th, 1804. With this letter a message was received, such as was to be ex- pected, containing an invitation; which was accepted, and Mr. Pendleton informed Mr. Van Ness he should hear from him the next day as to further particulars. Tliis letter was delivered to general Hamilton on the same even- ing, and a very short conversation ensued between him and Mr. Pendleton, who was to call on him early the next morning for a further conference. When he did so, general Hamilton said he had not understood whether the message and answer were defi- nitely concluded, or whether another meeting was to take place for that purpose between Mr. Pendleton and Mr. Van Ness. — Under the latter impression, and as the last letter contained matter that naturally led to a niraadversion, he gave Mr. Pendleton the following paper of remarks, to be communicated to Mr. Van Ness, if the state of the affair rendered it pi'oper. Remarhs on the Letter of June 27th, 1804. "Whether the observations in this letter are designed merely to justify the result which is indicated in the close of the letter; or may be intended to give an opening for rendering any thing ex- plicit which may have been deemed vague heretofore, can only be judged of by the sequel. At any rate, it appears to me neces- sary not to be misunderstood. Mr. Pendleton is therefore author- ised to say, that in the course of the present discussion, written or verbal, there has been no intention to evade, defy, or insult, but a sincere disposition to avoid extremeties if it could be done with propriety. With this view, general Hamilton has been ready to ALEXANDER HAMILTON. 591. enter into a frank and free explanation on any and every object of a specific nature ; but not to answer a general and abstract inquiry, embracing a period too long for any accurate recollection, and exposing him to unpleasant criticisms from, or unpleasant discussions with, any and every person who may have under- stood hira in an unfavorable sense. This (admitting that he could answer in a manner the most satisfactory to colonel Burr) he should deem inadmissible, in principle and precedent, and humili- ating in practice. To this, therefore, he can never submit. Fre- quent allusion has been made to slanders, said to be in circulation. Whether they are openly or in whispers, they have a form and shape, and might be specified. "If the alternative alluded to in the close of the letter is definite- ly tendered, it must be accepted ; the time, place and manner, to be afterwards regulated. I should not think it right, in the midst of a circuit court, to withdraw my services from those who may have confided important interests to me, and expose them to the embarrassment of seeking other counsel, who may not have time to be sufficiently instructed in their causes. I shall also want a little time to make some arrangements respecting my own affairs." In an interview with Mr. Van Ness on the same day, after ex- plaining the causes which had induced general Hamilton to sup- pose that the state of the affair did not render it improper, Mr. Pendleton offered this paper to Mr. Van Ness, but he declined re- ceiving it, alleging, that he considered the correspondence as closed by the acceptance of the message that he had delivered. On Friday, the 6th of July, the circuit being closed, Mr. Pendle- ton informed Mr. Van Ness that general Hamilton would be ready at any time after the Sunday following. On Monday the particu- lars were arranged — on Wednesday the parties met at Weahawk, on the Jersey shore, at 7 o'clock, A. M. It was nearly seven in the morning when the boat which car- ried general Hamilton, his friend Mr. Pendleton, and the surgeon mutually agreed on, doctor Hosack, reached that part of the Jersey shore called the WeaJiawk. There they found Mr. Burr, and his friend Mr. Van Ness, who, as I am told, had been employed since their arrival, with coats off, in clearing away the bushes, limbs of trees, &c. so as to make a fair opening. The parties, in a few 592 ALEXA?fI)ER HAMILTON, moments, were at their allotted situation: when Mr. Pendleton gave the word, Mr. Burr raised his arm' slowly, deliberately took his aim, and fired. His ball entered general Hamilton's right side ; as soon as the bullet struck him, he raised himself involuntarily on his toes, turned a little to the left, (at which moment his pistol went ofT,) and fell upon his face. Mr. Pendleton immediately called out for Dr. Hosack, who, in running to the spot, had to pass Mr. Van Ness and colonel Burr; but Mr. Van Ness had the cool precaution to cover his principal with an umbrella, so that Dr. Hosack should not be able to swear that he saw him on the field. What passed after this, the reader willhave in the following letter from Dr. Hosack himself. August 17 th, 1804. Dear Sir — To comply with your request is a painful task; but I will repress my feelings while I endeavor to furnish you with a detail of such particulars relative to the melancholy end of our be- loved friend Hamilton, as dwell most forcibly on my recollection. When called to him, upon his receiving the fatal wound, I found him half sitting on the ground, supported in the arms of Mr. Pen- dleton. His countenance of death I shall never forget. He had at that instant just strength to say, 'This is a mortal wound, doc- tor;' when he sank away, and became to all appearance lifeless, I immediately stripped up his clothes, and soon, alas! ascertained that the direction of the ball must have been through some vital part. His pulses were not to be felt; his respiration was entirely suspended; and on laying my hand upon his heart, and perceiving no motion there,! considered him as irrecoverably gone. I how- ever observed to Mr. Pendleton, that the only chance for his re- viving was immediately to get him upon the water. We therefore lifted him up, and carried him out of the wood to the margin of the bank, where the bargemen aided us in putting him into the boat, which immediately put off. During all this time I could not discover the least symptom of returning life. I now rubbed his face, lips, and temple, with spirits of hartshorn, applied it to his neck and breast, and to his wrists and palms of his hands, and endeavored to pour some into his mouth. When we had got, as I should judge, about fifty yards from the shore, some imperfect efforts to breathe were, for the first time, manifested. In a few ALEXANDER HAMILTON. 593 minutes he sighed, and became sensible to the impression of the hartshorn, or the fresh air of the water: he breathed— his eyes, hardly opened, wandered, without fixing upon any objects, and to our great joy he at length spoke. 'My vision is indistinct,' were his first words. His pulse became more perceptible, his respira- tion more regular; his sight returned. I then examined the wound, 10 know if there was any dangerous discharge of blood : upon slightly pressing his side, it gave him pain, on which I desisted. Soon after recovering his sight, he happened to cast his eyes upon the case of pistols, and observing the one that he had in his hand lying on the outside, he said, 'Take care of that pistol ; it is undis- charged, and still cocked ; it may go off and do harm : Pendleton knows (attempting to turn his head towards him,) that I did not intend to fire at him.' 'Yes,' said Mr. Pendleton, understanding his wish, 'I have already made Dr. Hosack acquainted with your determination as to that.' He then closed his eyes and remained calm, without any disposition to speak; nor did he say much after- wards, excepting in reply to my questions as to his feelings. He asked me once or twice how I found his pulse ; and he informed me that his lower extremities had lost all feeling; manifestincf to me that he entertained no hopes that he should long survive. 1 changed the posture of his limbs, but to no purpose ; they had to- tally lost their sensibility. Perceiving that we approached the shore, he said, 'Let Mrs. Hamilton be immediately sent for — let the event be gradually broken to her; but give her hopes.' Look- ing up, we saw his friend, Mr. Bayard, standing on the wharf in great agitation. He had been told that general Hamilton, Mr. Pendleton, and myself, had crossed the river in a boat together, and too well he conjectured the fatal errand, and foreboded the fatal result. Perceiving, as we came nearer, that Mr. Pendleton and myself only sat in the stern-sheet, he clasped his hands to- gether in the most violent apprehensions; but when I called to him to have a cot prepared, and he at the same time saw his poor friend Wing in the bottom of the boat, he threw up his eyes and burst into a flood of tears and lamentations. Hamilton alone ap- peared tranquil and composed. We then conveyed him as tenderly as possible to the house. The distress of this amiable family was such, that, till the first shock was abated, they were scarcely able 51 594 ALEXANDER HAMILTON. to summon fortitude enough to yield sufficient assistance to their dying friend. Upon our reaching the house he became more languid, occa- sioned probably by the agitation of his removal from the boat. I gave him a little weak wine and water. When he recovered his feelings, he complained of pain in his back: we immediately un- dressed him, laid him in bed, and darkened the room. Ithen gave him a large anodyne, which I frequently repeated. During the first day he took upwards of an ounce of laudanum; and tepid anodyne fomentations were also applied to those parts nearest the seat of his pain — yet were his sufferings during tlie whole of the day almost intolerable. I had not the shadow of a hope of his recovery, and Dr. Post, whom I requested might be sent for immediately on our reaching Mr. Bayard's house, united with me in this opinion. General Rey, the French consul, also had the goodness to invite the sur- geons of the French frigate in our harbor, as they had much expe- rience in gun-shot wounds, to render their assistance. They im- mediately came; but to prevent his being disturbed, I stated to them his situation, described the nature of his wound, and the di- rection of the ball, with all the symptoms that could enable them to form an opinion as to the event. One of the gentlemen then accompanied me to the bedside. The result was, a confirmation of the opinion that had already been e.xpressed by Dr. Post and myself. During the night he had some imperfect sleep; but the succeed- ing morning his symptoms were aggravated, attended however with a diminution of pain. His mind retained all its usual strength and composure. The great source of his anxiety seemed to be in his sympathy with his half-distracted wife and children. He spoke to me frequently of them — 'My beloved wife and children,' were always his expressions. But his fortitude triumphed over his situ- ation, dreadful as it was. Once, indeed, at the sight of his chil- dren brought to his bedside together, seven in number, his utter- ance forsook him : he opened his eyes, gave them one look, and closed them again, till they were taken away. As a proof of his extraordinary composure of mind, let me add, that he alone could calm the frantic grief of their mother. 'Remember, my Eliza, AtEXAKDER HAMILTON. 595 you are a christian,' were the expressions with which he fre- quently, with a firm voice, but in a pathetic and impressive man- ner, addressed her. His words, and the tone in which they were uttered, will never be effaced from my memory. At about two o'clock, as the public well know, he expired. It is painful to reflect, that such a valuable and highly gifted man should come to such an end. He fell a victim to the base and bitter feelings of revenge, proudly and falsely assuming the name of honor. How humiliating, too, that a man of the talents and standing of Hamilton, high in the confidence and esteem of his countrymen, and surrounded by the sweets of domestic life, should have yielded himself a sacrifice to an unlawful and bar- barous custom, which, although it plunged his family into the deepest affliction, could afford no plea of right, or policy, or pa- triotism, in its justification. General Hamilton had exercised the common privilege of the free citizens of our republic, in expressing openly his decided and honest opinions of the public character of a public man. He believed that he had sufficient grounds for distrusting the integrity of colonel Buit; and, as a good citizen, it was his duty to oppose his elevation to public stations. The community has long since been convinced that Hamilton was correct in his opinion of Burr. For judging accurately and speaking independently, Burr took his life. Let the fall of Hamilton serve to confirm the growing abhorrence of the practice of duelling. And let the man, and every man, who thus sheds the blood of a fellow citizen, be con- .■signed by public opinion, and by public indignation, to an infamous 3talion amonsf monsters and assassins, 5% BENEDICT ARNOLD. LIFE AND CHARACTER OF BENEDICT ARNOLD, TOGETHER WITH THE CIRCUMSTANCES OF THE CAPTURE, TRIAL, AND EXECUTION, OF MAJOR ANDRE. One of the most remarkable facts connected with the history of llie American revolution, was the steady adherence to their coun- try's interests manifested by all those whom she entrusted with important stations. Neither fear, nor the temptations of wealth? nor the love of honor and distinction, could induce them to betray the cause of their country into the hands of a foreign power. — All were tampered with at different times, and all as firmly and nobly resisted. "/ am poor, very poor,'''' exclaimed one of these incorruptible patriots in answer to the splendid offers of a British agent, "6m< the king of Great Britain is not rich enough to hvy wie." This was the noble sentiment which actuated them all. — From Washington down to the private soldier in the army — from Hancock through all the members of the old congress, "one spirit in them breathed :" and that was an ardent love of country and an unconquerable determination to achieve its independence or perish. During the gloomiest scenes of the war, and even while Washington was making his disastrous retreat through the Jerseys, and the enemy were in possession of Philadelphia, no one thought of deserting that sacred cause to which they had pledged their '■^lives, their fortunes, and their sacred honor.'''' To this statement there is only one memorable exception, and that is found in the person of him whose life and character is given in the following pages. Benedict Arnold, a major-general in the American army dur- ing the I'evolutionary war, was early chosen captain of a volun- teer company, in New-Haven, Connecticut, where he lived. Af- ter hearing of the battle of Lexington, he immediately marched with his company for the American head-quarters, and reached Cambridge, April 29, 1775. "He immediately waited on the Massachusetts committee of safety, and informed them of the defenceless state of Ticondero- ga. The committee appointed him a colonel, and commissioned him to raise four hundred men, and to take that fortress. He pro- BENEDICT ARNOLD. 597 ceedcd directly to Vermont, and when he arrived at Castleton, was attended by one servant only. Here he joined colonel Allen, and on the tenth of May, the fortress was taken. "In the fall of 1775, he was sent by the commander-in-chief to penetrate through the wilderness of the district of Maine, into Canada. On the 16th of September, he commenced his march, with about one thousand men, consisting of New-England infan- try, some volunteers, a company of artillery, and three companies of riflemen. One "division was obliged to return, or it would have perished by hunger. After sustaining almost incredible hard- ships, he in six weeks arrived at Point Levi, opposite to Quebec. The appearance of an army emerging from the wilderness, threw the city into the greatest consternation. In this moment of sur- prise, Arnold might probably have become master of the place; but the small crafts and boats in the river were removed out of his reach. "It seems that his approach was not altogether unexpected. — He had, imprudently, a number of days before, sent forward a letter to a friend by an Indian, who betrayed him. A delay of several days, on account of the difficulty of passing the river, was inevitable ; and the critical moment was lost. "On the 14th of November he crossed the St. Lawrence in the night ; and ascending the precipice which Wolfe had climbed be- fore him jformed his small corps op the height near the memorable Plains of Abraham. With only about seven hundred men, one- third of whose muskets had been rendered useless in their march through the wilderness, success could not be expected. After parading some days on the heights near the town, and sending two flags to sunmion the inhabitants, he retired to Point-aux- Trembles, twenty miles above Quebec, and there awaited the arrival of Montgomery, who joined him on the 1st of December. The city was immediately besieged, but the best measures had been taken for its defence. On the morning o{ the last day of the year, an assault was made on the one side of the city by Montgomery, who was killed. At the same time, colonel Arnold, at the head of three hundred and fifty men, made a desperate attack on the opposite side. Advancing with the utmost intrepidity along the St. Charles, through a nan-ow path, exposed to an incessant fire of grape-shot 51* 598 BENEDICT ARNOLD. and musketry, as he approached the first barrier, he received a musket-ball in the leg, which shattered the bone ; and he was carried off to the camp. Though the attack was unsuccessful, the blockade of Quebec was continued till May, 1776 ; when the ar my, which was in no condition to risk an assault, was removed to a more defensible position. Arnold was compelled to relinquish one post after another, till the 18th of June, when he quitted Canada. After this period he exhibited great bravery in the com- mand of the American fleet on Lake Champlain. "In August, 1777, he relieved Fort Schuyler, under the com- mand of colonel Gansevoort, which was invested by colonel St. Leger, with an army of from fifteen to eighteen hundred men. — In the battle near Stillwater, September the 19th, he conducted himself with his usual intrepidity, being engaged incessantly for four hours. In the action of October the 7th, after the British had been driven into their lines, Arnold pressed forward, and, under a tremendous fire, assaulted the works throughout their whole ex- tent, from right to left. The entrenchments were at length forced, and with a few men he actually entered the works; but his horse being killed, and himself badly wounded in the leg, he found it necessary to withdraw, and as it was now almost dark, to desist from the attack. "Being rendered unfit for active service, in consequence of his wound, after the recovery of Philadelphia, he was appointed to the command of the American garrison. When he entered the city, he made the house of governor Penn, the best house in the city, his head-quarters. This he fiirnished in a very costly man- ner, and lived far beyond his income. One of the many and of- ten-trodden paths which are on "the broad way that leadeth to destruction," is called the /)a^A of pleasure; its allurements are gay and powerful, and whoever enters that path, either in youth or manhood, loses his moral courage, and submits his mind to giddy deceptions; so that it would be a vain boast to call himself a freeman. Arnold, who had toiled through dangers, and fought for liberty, with bravery and ardor, entered that delusive path, and soon be- came the slave of its weakening influence. While his former com- panions in the field of battle were persevering courageously in BENEDICT AR?COLD. 59?> the defence of their country, and suffering from the want of food and clothing, he was engaged in mirthful revelries, and was wast- ing a fortune in the gratification of idle vanity. He became in- volved in debt; and then dishonestly used every means within his power, to get possession of the property of others. His ill con- duct was at length made known to congress, and they appointed a court of officers of the army to examine the charges brought against him. "From the judgment of commissioners who had been appointed to inspect his accounts, and who had rejected above half the amount of his demands, he appealed to congress, and they ap- pointed a committee of their own body to examine and settle the business. The committee confirmed the report of the commis- sioners, and thought they had allowed him more than he had any right to expect or demaiid. By these disappointments he became irritated, and he gave full scope to his resentment. His invec- tives against congress were not less violent than those which he had before thrown out against the commissioners. He was, how- ever, soon obliged to abide the judgment of a court-martial, upon the charges exhibited against him hy the executive of Pennsyl- vania; and he was subjected to the mortification of receiving a reprimand from Washington. His trial commenced in June, 1778, but such were the delays, occasioned by the movements of the army, that it was not concluded until the 26th of January, 1779. The sentence of a reprimand was approved by congress, and was soon afterwards carried into execution. "Such was the humiliation to which general Arnold was re- duced, in consequence of yielding to the temptations of pride and vanity, and indulging himself in the pleasures of a sumptuous ta- ble and expensive equipage. "From this time, probably, his proud spirit revolted from the cause of America. He turned his eyes to West Point as an ac- quisition which would give value to treason, while its loss would inflict a mortal wound on his former friends. He addressed him- self to the delegation of New- York, in which state his reputation was peculiarly high ; and a member of congress from this state re- commended him to Washington for the service which he desired. — But this request could not be immediately complied with. The 600 BENEDICT ARNOLD. same application to the commander-in-chief was made not long afterwards through general Schuyler. Washington observed, that as there was a prospect of an active campaign, he should be gra- tified with the aid of general Arnold in the field; but intimated, at the same time, that he should receive the appointment requested, if it should be more pleasing to him. "Arnold, without discovering much solicitude, repaired to camp in the beginning of August, and renewed in person, the solicita - tions which had been before indirectly made. He was now oflfer- edthe command of the left, wing of the army, which was advanc- ing against New York; but he declined it, under the pretext that, in consequence of his wounds, he was unable to perforiu the ac- tive duties of the field. Without a suspicion of his patriotism, he was invested with the command of West Point. Previously to his solicitinsf this station, he had, in a letter to colonel Robinson, signified his change of principles, and his wish to restore himself to the favor of his prince, by some signal proof of his repentance. This letter opened him a correspondence with Sir Henry Clinton, the object of which was to concert the means of putting the im- portant post which he cofnmanded into the possession of the British general. The well-known object of Arnold's negotiation was to put Clin- ton in possession of the post at West Point. This is a beautiful little plain, lying on the west bank of the Hudson, a little below where it breaks through the chain of mountains called the High- lands. Its form is nearly circular; in one half of its circumference defended by a precipice of great height, rising abruptly from the river; and on the other, by a chain of rugged, impassable moun- tains. It is accessible by one pass only from the river, and that is narrow and easily defended ; while, on the land sid^, it can be ap- proached only at two points, by roads that wind through the moun- tains, and enter it at the river bank, on the north and south. Great importance had always been attached to this post by the Americans, and great labor and expense bestowed upon fortifying it; whether judiciously, or to good effect, has never been tested. But the place is naturally, scarcely assailable, very healthy, and commands the river, throughout a long circuit that it stretches round the point, and where it is deep and very narrow. BENEDICT AENOLD. 601 "His plan, it is believed, was to have drawn the greater part of his army without the works, under the pretext of fighting the ene- my in the defiles, and to have left unguarded a designated pass, through which the assailants might securely approach and surprise the fortress. His troops he intended to place so that they would be compelled to surrender' or be cut in pieces. But just as his scheme was ripe for execution, the wise Disposer of events, who so often and so remarkably interposed in favor of the American cause, blasted his designs. When he went to West Point, he wrote to Sir Henry that he would manage the troops stationed there, so that he mif^ht, on at- tacking them, readily make them his prisoners, or else entirely destroy them. The English general must have despised and dis- trusted the traitor, and he ought to have scorned the proposal of using such cowardly means for subduing the Americans ; but to get possession of West Point was so desirable, that he gladly re- ceived the base offer, and said that he would appoint an officer to correspond with Arnold on the subject. The officer chosen for this degrading duty was major Andre. — He was young, and had been expensively educated, and was ad- mired for the attainments of his mind, and his disposition was so frank and amiable, that he was esteemed by all who became ac- quainted with him. As an officer he was brave and faithful, and was a favorite in the army. His friends were strongly and tenderly attached to him, and felt a perfect confidence in the strength of his virtuous principles. But the foundation of those principles was a wrong one; they were placed on the duty which he owed to men, and not on that which he owed to God. When Sir Henry Clinton informed him of the employment he intended to give him, he con- sented to take a part in deception and treachery, and by doing so, lost his claim to integrity of mind. Several letters passed between Arnold and Andre, signed by the names of Gustavus and Anderson ; but the plan of treason could not be safely understood without some conversation on the subject, and Arnold sent a pass, or written permission, for Andre to go in the character of a person on business, past the guard at West Point, to a house near to the out-post, where he promised to meet him; in the pass, he was called John Anderson. 602 BENEDICT ARNOLD. An English sloop of war, named the Vulture, was sent up the Hudson to take Andre as near to West Point as possible, without the risk of exciting suspicion. He was rowed in a small boat to the shore, and arrived in safety at the place appointed by Arnold, in September. Night was chosen to veil from human eyes the plottings of treachery; but an "All-seeing eye," to which the ^'darkness is as the noon-day," rested on the deluded and erring Andre. And a power, from which no human strength or wisdom can deliver, was preparing a dreadful punishment for his wander- ings from the path of virtue. The night was spent in deeply interesting conversation, and the morning dawned before all the parts of the dark plot were well understood. Andre could not return to the vessel by the light of day with any hope of safety; and Arnold assured him that he would conceal him until night, and for this purpose took him within the posts, and remained with him all day. The Vulture had been noticed from the fort, and fired on, and the commander thought it necessary to move to a greater distance from the river. When daylight had again faded from the sky, and the hour of darkness had come, for which no doubt Andre had anxiously watched, he left his place of concealment, and expected to be quickly conveyed to the vessel from which he had come the night before; but it was removed to so great a distance, that he could not prevail on any boatman to take him to it, and Arnold did not dare to aid him in persuading them. Sadly perplexed, Andre was obliged at length to determine on passing to New York by land. This was a perilous attempt; for parties of militia were employed in watching all the roads leading from the Highlands to that city. Arnold insisted on his changing his dress for a plain one, and wrote a pass for him, desiring the guards and militia to "permit John Anderson to go to the White Plains, on business of great importance." It is very well known, that major Andre was taken near a place called Tarry Town, on the east side of the Hudson, where it forms Haverstraw Bay. Ten years afterwards, the large s}'ca- more near which he was taken, was shown to the traveller; and the incidents at his capture were familiarly known to, and related by every inhabitant in the village. Paulding, Williams, and Vap. BENEDICT ARNOLD. 603 Wert, who captured him, were poor, but reputable men, and ex- hibited a striking instance of disinterestedness and fidelity. Andre offered them large bribes, but they were not to be corrupted, and conducted him a prisoner to colonel Jamieson, who commanded a scouting party on that side of the river. The circumstances attending the capture of Andre are differ- ently related by the different authors who have written on the American war. They are all correct as far as they go ; but being deficient in a few particulars, excited surprise at the supposed want of self-possession in so brave a man as Andre. The British army in New York was at that time supplied with beef, principally through the aid of a class of men, who obtained the appellation of Cowboys. They M'ere a species of settlers, or dealers in live stock, who being well acquainted with the roads and passes, penetrated into the country, and either stole or pur- chased cattle, which they secretly drove into the enemy-s lines. — Besides watching the movements of the enemy, one principal ob- ject for detaching Jamieson to that quarter was, to check the pro- secution of this trade or practice. For this purpose, small scouting parties were occasionally pushed beyond the American posts, to reconnoitre the interjacent country between their posts and those of the enemy. And as the cattle taken from the Cowboys, unless stolen, were held to be the prize of war; and it was an object with the well affected to suppress a practice which exposed their stock to depredations, small volunteer parties occasionally way- laid the roads for that purpose. Of this description were the cap- tors of Andre J who, after the fatigue of prosecuting their enter- prise, had seated themselves under this tree, in a situation retired from the view of travellers approaching along the road. It is said that they were engaged in a game at cards, when the tread of Andre's horse attracted their notice. The station they had taken, was in view of a point where sev- eral roads unite near the village, and Andre, who was visible to the party before they were visible to him, was engaged in exa- mining a sketch of the route, no doubt to determine which of the roads in his view he ought to follow. At the first rustling of the leaves, made by the motion of the party in ambush, he precipi- tately thrust the paper he had been examining into his boot, on 604 BENEDICT ARXOLD. the opposite side of his horse from that on which the party ap- peared. This was noticed by one of the party, and led to the examination which produced the detection. On being stopped, he resumed his composure, and exhibited the pass from Arnold, on which he had thus far succeeded in clearing the American posts and patrols ; and the party had already released Ids bridle, when one of them inquired what he had done with the paper he was reading. An indistinct view of the dangerous dilem- ma in which the question involved him, produced in Andre a mo- mentary hesitation : his embarrassment was noticed by the party, and made them resolve again to detain him. Knowing that the pass from Arnold would not avail him after the discovery of the contents of his boot, Andre then desired them to tell him truly, whether they were from above or below; and on their answering Hhe latter,' which was consistent with the truth in fact, though not in the sense he meant it, which was, whether they were whigs or lories, he acknowledged himself to be a British officer on urgent business, and begged them not to detain him. On their persisting to detain him, the whole extent of his danger burst upon him, and he liberally tried the persuasive voice of gold. But though he had just witnessed, that one in a much more elevated rank had lent a propitious ear to similar arguments, he found these honest yeomen were not to be corrupted. Until then, he had not learned that it is at last in the integrity of the well-informed yeomanry of a country, that the strength and security of a free government is to be found. Woe to that government which ever suffers this class of men to remain in ignorance, or be exposed to corruption ! Upon searching the boot in which the paper had been thrust, a , plan of West Point, the strength and disposition of the garrison, and other suspicious papers, were discovered ; and Andre was immediately conveyed to the head-quarters of colonel Jamieson. By this time, it appears that Andre had completely recovered his self-possession, if, indeed, he had ever lost it; and he had the in- genuity to play off on Jamieson a nisse de guerre, to which the partiality of his friends, and the feelings of his admirers, have managed to give a character which it by no means merits. He prevailed on Jamieson to despatch a note to Arnold, in- forming him that John Anderson (this was Andre's assumed name) BENEDICT ARNOLD. 605 was taken, This has been construed into a magnanimous effort to save Arnold; whereas it was obviously an ingenious artifice to save himself. And it must have succeeded, had not the former, instead of taking the hint as it was intended, verified by his con- duct the trite adage, 'there is no faith among the dishonest,' by immediately transferring all his attention to his own escape. — Arnold could easily have despatched an order to Jamieson to re- lease Andre, or have adopted some fiction or plan for getting him into his own hands, for the purpose of giving him his liberty, and then have escaped with him. Jamieson obviously entertained no suspicion of Ai-nold, by sending him this message ; and from the time that elapsed before he forwarded to general Washington the papers found upon Andre, it is clear that he waited for some communication from Arnold, with regard to the future disposal of John Anderson. While these things were taking place at New-York and West Point, Washington was absent on a journey to Hartford, Connec- ticut, on the following occasion; About the middle of September, the commander-in-chief, at- tended by generals Lafayette and Knox, with a splendid retinue, left the American camp in New Jersey, and proceeded to Hart- ford, in Connecticut, for the purpose of holding a conference with the commanding officers of the French fleet and army, which had lately arrived at Rhode Island. In the mean time, the command of the x\merican army devolved on major-general Greene, whose head quarters were at Tappan. A week had elaped since the departure of Washington, and no incident of importance had occurred. Greene had learned, through the medium of his spies, that some secret expedition was on foot, at the city of New York : but of its nature and direction, he could not obtain the smallest hint. On the ninth day, however, at three o'clock in the morning, an alarm was spread thi-ough the Ameri- can camp; and in a few minutes, all were under arms. A de- tachment, consisting of two regiments, was immediately ordered to march to West Point, with all possible expedition; and the rest of the troops were directed to hold themselves in readiness to piarch at a moment's warning. Arnold received Andre's letter 52 1 006 BENEDICT ARNOLD. about ten o'clock in the morning, while at breakfast. Two of Washington's aids, major Shaw and Dr. M'Henry, had just ar- rived, and were at breakfast at Arnold's table. His confusion was visible, but no one could divine the cause. Struck with the pressing danger of his situation, momentarily expecting Washington's return from Hartford, the traitor called instantly for a horse. "A horse!" exclaimed he, as he started from the table. "Any one — 'even if a wagon horse !" He then bade a hasty adieu to his wife, and enjoined a positive order on the messenger not to inform any one that he was the bearer of a letter from colonel Jamieson : he repaired to his barge, and ordered the coxswain, with eight oarsmen, to proceed down the river, to the sloop of war Vulture, which he reached in safety, under the protection of a flag, and which immediately set sail for New York. Washington arrived at Arnold's quarters in two hours after the traitor had escaped. Not finding Arnold at home, and being in- formed that he had gone to West Point, Washington passed over the river to view the works at that post; but not finding Arnold, he returned, in the hope of meeting him at his quarters. But here he was again disappointed, for no person could account for his absence. Mrs. Arnold was now in her chamber, in great agitation and distress, deprived of her reason, and Dr. Eustis in attendance. — At a lucid interval, she requested to see Washington; but at the time he reached the chamber her distraction returned, and she knew him not. He then withdrew, and repairing to the dining room, sat down to dinner, but rose soon again with apparent agita- tion, He then took colonel Lamb aside, and expressed to him his suspicion that Arnold had deserted to the enemy. In less than two hours it was ascertained that the conjecture vv^as too well founded ; for a despatch arrived from colonel Jamieson, with an account of the capture of Andre, accompanied by his own letter of confession. The prisoner was conducted to West Point, and from thence to head quarters at Tappan, where preparations were made for his trial by a court-martial, BENEDICT ARNOLD. 607 Andre disdained defence and prevented the examination of wit- nesses, by confessing the character in which he stood. He was consequently declared to be a spy, and condemned to suffer ac- cordingly. Washington approved the sentence, and ordered his execution to take place on the first day of October, at five o'clock in the af- ternoon. In this decision he was warranted by the still exisiting implication of other ofiicers in Arnold's conspiracy; by a due re- gard to public opinion ; and by real tenderness to the prisoner himself. On the first day of October, at the hour appointed, a large con- course of people assembled to witness the execution of the gal- lant and unfortunate young officer. The gallows was erected, and the grave and coffin prepared ; but a flag of truce arrived with a communication from Sir Henry Clinton, making another and further proposal for the release of major Andre; in consequence of which the execution was postponed until twelve o'clock on the following day. This flag was accompanied by the British general Robertson, with Andrew Elliott and William Smith, esquires, for the purpose of pleading for the release of major Andre, the royal army being in the greatest affliction on the occasion. But all intercession was fruitless ; and least of all availed a let- ter to Washington, of which Robertson was the bearer, from the traitor Arnold, filled with threats of retaliation, and the accounta- bility of Washington for the torrents of blood that might be spilt, if he should order the execution of Andre ! It is diflficult to say which created the most astonishment in the breast of Greene — that Arnold should have the consummate effrontery, to write such a letter ; or that Robertson should consent to be the bearer of it. Nothing, of course, was effected by this interview, and the mes- sengers returned in despondency to New-York. Andre, in the mean time, during his confinement, trial and condemnation, evinced a composure and dignity of mind, that enlisted the sympathies of all in his favor. Not a murmur escaped him ; while the civilities and attentions bestowed on him, were gratefully and politely ac- 608 BENEDICT ABWOLD. knowledged. Having left a mother and two sisters in England? he was heard to mention them in terms of the tenderest affection; and in his letter to sir Henry Clinton, he recommended them to his particular attention. We are assured that, though every one acknowledged the policy of the sentence, there was scarcely one that spoke of his approach- ing fate without evincing the deepest emotions of sympathy. The principal guard officer, who was constantly in the room with An- dre, states that when the fatal hour arrived, and the prisoner was summoned to attend, he heard and complied without any visible emotion ; and while all present were more or less affected, he re- tained a serene countenance, with calmness and composure of mind. , ' The prisoner walked from the stone house in which he had been confined, between two subaltern officers, arm in arm, A large detachment of troops was paraded, and an immense concourse of people assembled, to witness the awful ceremony. We will give the remaining particulars in the language of Dr. Thacher. "During the solemn march to the fatal spot," says the doctor^ "I was so near as to observe every movement, and participate in every emotion, which the melancholy scene was calculated to produce. The eyes of the immense multitude were fixed on the prisoner; who, rising superior to the fears of death, appeared as if conscious of the dignified deportment which he displayed. He betrayed no want of fortitude, but retained a complaisant smile on his countenance, and politely bowed to several gentlemen whom he knew, which was respectfully returned. "It was his earnest desire to be shot, as being the mode ofdeath most conformable to the feelings of a military man, and he in- dulged the hope that his request would be granted. At the mo- ment, therefore, when suddenly he came in view of the gallows, he involuntarily started backward, and made a pause. 'Why this emotion, sir?' said an officer at his side. Instantly recovering his composure, he said — 'I am reconciled to my death; but I de- test the mode.' "While waiting, and standing near the gallows," continues Dr. Thacher, "I observed some degree of trepidation: placing his foot BENEDICT ARNOLD. 609 on a stone, and rolling it over, and choking in his throat, as if at- tempting to swallow. So soon, however, as he perceived that things were in readiness, he stepped quickly into the wagon ; and at this moment he appeared to shrink ; but instantly elevating his head with hrmness, he said, 'It will be but a momentary pang;' and taking from his pocket two white handkerchiefs, the provost marshal, with one loosely pinioned his arms ; and with the other, the victim, after taking off his hat and stock, bandaged his own eyes, with perfect firmness, which melted the hearts and moistened the cheeks, not only of his servant, but of the throng of specta- tors. "The rope being appended to the gallows, he slipped the noose over his own head, adjusted it to his neck, without the assistance of the awkward executioner. Colonel Scanimel now informed him that he had an opportunity to speak if he desired it. He raised the handkerchief from his eyes and said — 'I pray you to bear witness that I meet my fate like a brave man.' The wagon being now removed from under him, he was suspended, and in- stantly expired. It proved, indeed, 'but a momentary pang.' "He was dressed in his royal regimentals and boots ; and his re- mains, in the same dress, were placed in an ordinary coffin, and interred at the foot of the gallows; and the spot was consecrated by the tears of thousands." Arnold on the very day of his escape, wrote the following let- tor to Washington : ^^On board the Vulture, Sept. 25, 1780. "Sir — The heart which is conscious of its own rectitude can- not attempt to palliate a step which the world may censure as wrong; I have ever acted from a principle of love to my country, since the commencement of the present unhappy contest between Great Britain and the colonies ; the same principle of love to my country actuates my present conduct, however it may appear in- consistent to the world, who very seldom judge right of any man's actions. "I have no favor to ask for myself. I have too often experienced the ingratitude of ray country to attempt it; but from the known. 52* 610 BENEDICT AHNOLD. humanity of your excellency, I am induced to ask your protectioiis for Mrs. Arnold from every insult or injury the mistaken ven- geance of my country may expose her to. It ought to fall only or* me ; she is as good and as innocent as an angel, and is incapable of doing wrong. I beg she may be permitted to return to her friends in Philadelphia, or to come to me, as she may choose ; from your excellency I have no fears on her account, but she may suf- fer from the mistaken fury of the country. "I have to request that the enclosed letter may be delivered to Mrs. Arnold, and she permitted to write to me. "J have also to ask that my clothes and baggage, which arc of little consequence, may be sent tome; if required, their value shall be paid in money. "I have the honor to be, &c. "BENEDICT ARNOLD "His excellency, general Washington. "N. B. In justice to the gentlemen of n>y family, colonel Vir-^ rack and major Franks, I think myself in honor bound to declare that they, as well as Joshua Smith, Esq. (who I know are suspected,) are totally ignorant of any transactions of mine, which they have reason to believe were injurious to the public." Mrs. Arnold was conveyed to her husband at New York, and his clothes and baggage, for which he had written, were transmit- ted to him. "The following is a concise_description of the figures exhibited and paraded through the streets of the city of Philadelphia, two or three days after the affair : "A stage raised on the body of a cart, on which was an effigy of general Arnold sitting; this was dressed in regimentals, had two faces, emblematical of his traitorous conduct, a mask in his left hand, and a letter in his right from Belzebub, telling him that he had done all the mischief he could do, and now might hang him- self "At the back of the general was a figure of the devil, dressed in black robes, shaking a purse of money at the general's left ear, and in his right hand a pitch-fork, ready to drive him into hell, as BENEDICT AHNOLD. 611 the rew ard due for the many crimes \vhich his thirst for gold had made him conjmit. "In front of the stage, and before general Arnold, was placed a large lantern of transparent paper, with the consequences of his crimes thus delineated, i. e., on one part general Arnold on his knees before the devil, who is pulling him into the flames — a label from the general's mouth with these words : 'My dear sir, I have served you faithfully ;' to which the devil replies, 'And I will re- ward you.' On another side, two figures hanging, inscribed 'The Traitor's reward,' and wrote underneath, 'The adjutant-general of the British army, and Joe Smith ; the first hanged as a spy, and the other as a traitor to his country.' And on the front of the lan- tern was wrote the following : 'Major-general Benedict Arnold,- late commander of the fort West Point. The crime of this man is high treason. 'He has deserted the important post. West Point, on Hudson's river, committed to his charge by his excellency, the commander- in-chief, and is gone off to the enemy at New York. 'His design to have given up this fortress to our enemies has been discovered by the goodness of the Omniscient Creator, who has ndt only prevented him from carrying it into execution, but has thrown into our hands Andre, the adjutant-general of their army, who was detected in the infamous character of a spy, 'The treachery of the ungrateful general is held up to public view for the exposition of infamy; and to proclaim with joyful ac- clamation another instance of the interposition of a bounteous Providence. 'The effigy of this ingrate is therefore hanged, (for want of his body,) as a traitor to his native country, and a betrayer of the laws of honor.' "The procession began about 4 o'clock in the following order: "Several gentlemen mounted on horseback. "A line of continental officers. "Sundry gentlemen in a lino. "A guard of the city infantry. "Just before the cart, drums and fifes playing the "Rogues march. "Guards on each side. 612 BENEDICT ARNOLD. "The procession was attended with a numerous concourse of people, who, after expressing their abhorrence of the treason and the traitor, committed him to the flames, and left both the effigy and the original to sink into ashes and oblivion." ^'Arnold was made a brigadier-general in the British service ; which rank he preserved throughout the war. Yet he must have been held in contempt and detestation by the generous and honora- ble. It was impossible for men of this description, even when acting with him, to forget that he was a traitor, first the slave of his rage, then purchased with gold, and finally secured by the blood of one of the most accomplished officers in the British army. One would suppose that his mind could not have been much at ease ; but he had proceeded so far in vice, that perhaps his reflections gave him but little trouble. 'I am mistaken,' says Washington, in a private letter, 'if at this time, Arnold is undergoing the torments of a mental hell. He wants feeling. From some traits of his character which have lately come to my knowledge, he seems to have been so hackneyed in crime, so lost to all sense of honor and shame, that while his faculties still enable him to continue his sordid pursuits, there will be no time for remorse.' "Arnold found it necessary to make some exertions to secure the attachment of his new friends. With the hope of alluring many of the discontented to his standard, he published an address to the inhabitants of America, in which he endeavoured to justify his conduct. He had encountered the dangers of the field he said, from an apprehension that the rights of his country were in danger. He had acquiesced in the declaration of independence, though he thought it precipitate. But the rejection of the overtures made by Great Britain, in 1778, and the French alliance, had opened his eyes to the ambitious views of those who would sacrifice the hap- piness of their country to their own aggrandizement, and had made him a confirmed royalist. He artfully mingled assertions that the principal members of congress held the people in sover- eign contempt. "This was followed, in about a fortnight, by a proclamation, ad- dressed 'to the officers and soldiers of the continental army, who have the real interests of their country at heart, and who are de- BENEDICT ARNOLD, 613 termincd to be no longer the tools and dupes of congress, or of France.' To induce the American officers and soldiers to desert the cause which they had embraced, he represented that the corps of cavalry and infantry which he was authorized to raise, would be upon the same footing with the other troops in the British ser- vice ; that he should with pleasure advance those whose valor he had witnessed ; and that the private men who joined him should receive a bounty of three guineas each, besides payment, at full value, for horses, arms and accoutrements. His object was the peace, liberty and safety of America . 'You are promised liberty,' he exclaims, 'but is there an individual in the enjoyment cf it save your oppressors ? Who among you dare to speak or write what he thinks against the tyranny which has robbed you of your pro- perty, imprisons your persons, drags you to the field of battle, and is daily deluging your country with blood?' 'What,' he exclaims again, 'is America, but a land of widows, orphans, and beggars? As to you, who have been soldiers in the continental army, can you at this day want evidence that the funds of your country are exhausted, or that the managers have applied them to their private use? In either case you surely can no longer continue in their service m ith honor or advantage. Yet you have hitherto been their supporters in that cruelty which, with equal indifference to yours,, as well as to the labor and blood of others, is devouring a country that, from the moment you quit their colors, will be redeemed from their tyranny.' "These proclamations did not produce the effect designed ; and in all the hardships, sufferings and irritations of the war, Arnold remains the solitary instance of an American officer who aban- doned the side fii-st embraced in the contest, and turned his sword upon his former companions in arms. "He was soon despatched by sir Henry Clinton to make a di- version in Virginia. With about seventeen hundred men he ar- rived in the Chesapeake in January, 1781, and being supported bv such a naval force as was suited to the nature of the service, he committed extensive ravages on the rivers along the unprotected coasts. It is said that, while on this expedition, Arnold enquired of an American captain whom he had taken prisoner, what the 614 BENEDICT ARNOLD. Americans would do with him if he should fall into their hands. — ■ The captain at first declined giving him an answer, but upon be- ing repeatedly urged to it, he said, 'Why, sir, if I must answer your question, you must excuse my telling you the plain truth: if my countrymen should catch you, I believe they would first cut off" that lame leg, which was wounded in the cause of freedom and virtue, and bury it with the honors of war, and afterwards hang the remainder of your body in gibbets.' The reader will recol- lect that the captain alluded to the wound Arnold received in one of his legs at the attack upon Quebec, in 1776." "The return of general Arnold to New-York from Virginia, did not fix him in a state of inactivity. He was sent on an enterprise against New-London, with a sufficient land and marine force. — The embarkation having passed over from Long Island shore in the night, the troops were landed in two detachments on each side of the harbor at ten o'clock in the morning of the 6th of Septem- ber; that on the Groton side being commanded by lieutenant-col- onel Eyre, and that on the New-London side by the general, who met with no great trouble. Fort Trumbull and the redoubts, which were intended to cover the harbor and town, not being tenable, were evacuated as he approached, and the few men in them crossed the river to Fort Griswold, on Groton-hill. Arnold pro- ceeded to the town without being otherwise opposed than by the scattered fire of small parties that had hastily collected. Orders were sent by the general to Eyre for attacking Fort Griswold, so that the possession of it might prevent the escape of the American shipping. The militia, to the amount of one hundred and fifty- seven, collected for its defence, but so hastily as not to be fully furnished with fire arms and other weapons. As the assailants approached, a firing commenced, and the flag-staff" was soon shot down, from whence the neighboring spectators inferred that the place had surrendered, till the continuance of the firing convinced them to the contrary. The garrison defended themselves with the greatest resolution and bravery ; Eyre was wounded near the works, and major Montgomery was killed immediately after, so that the command devolved on Major Bloomfield. The British at onetime staggered; but the fort being out of repair, could not be BENEDICT ARNOLD. 615 maintained by a handful of men against so superior a number as that which assaulted it. After an action of about forty minutes, the resolution of the royal troops carried the place by the point of the bayonet. The Americans had not more than half a dozen killed before the enemy entered the fort, when a severe execution took place, though resistance ceased. The British officer in- quired, on his entering the fort, who commanded ? colonel Led- yard answered— 'I did, sir, but you do now; and presented his sword. The colonel was immediately run through and killed. — The slain was seventy-three : the wounded between thirty and forty, and about fifty were carried off prisoners. Soon after re- ducing the fort, the soldiers loaded a wagon with the wounded, ^ as said, by order of the officers, and set the wagon from the top of the hill, which is long and very steep ; the wagon went a con- siderable distance with great force, till it was suddenly stopped by an apple-tree, which gave the faint and bleeding men so terrible a shock that part of them died instantly. About fifteen vessels, with the effects of the inhabitants, retreated up the river, notwith- standing the reduction of the fort, and four others remained in the harbor unhurt ; a number were burnt by the fire's communicating from the stores when in flames. Sixty dwelling houses and eigh- ty-four stores were burned, including those on both sides of the harbor and in New-London. The burning of the town was inten- tional, and not accidental. The loss that the Americans sus- tained in this destruction was very great; for there were large quantities of naval stores, of European goods, and East and West India commodities, and of provisions in the several stores. The British had two commissioned officers and forty-six privates killed ; eight officers (some of whom are since dead.) with one hundred and thirty-five non-commissioned and privates, wounded." "From the conclusion of the war to his death, general Arnold resided chiefly in England. He died in Gloucester-place, London, June 14, 180L His character presents little to be commended. His daring courage may indeed excite admiration; but it was a courage without reflection and without principle. He fought brave- ly for his country ; and he bled in her cause ; but his country owed him no return of gratitude, for his subsequent conduct proved that 616 BENEDICT ARNOLD. he had no honest regard to her interests, but was governed by selfish considerations. His progress fi-om self-indulgence to treason was easy and rapid. He was vain and luxurious ; and to gratify his giddy desires, he must resort to meanness, dishonesty, and extor- tion. These vices brought with them disgrace; and the contempt into which he fell awakened a spirit of revenge, and left him to she unrestrained influence of his cupidity and passion. Thus 5,00, he furnislied new evidence of the infatuation of the human mind, in attaching such value to the reputation of a soldier, which maybe obtained while the heart is unsound, and every moral sen- •Jiment entirely depraved." FINIS, **' (Ti