Class. Book_«ia_^il£:. COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT WASHINGTON THE GENERALS OP THE American RexjoluttDu- TWO VOLUMES COMPLETE IN oIe?^^^' WITH FINELY-ENGRAVED PORTRAITS, fROM ORIGINAL fICTUKES. N£W EDITION. WITH CORRECTIONS. V^OL. I. i'-tB ' ^ PHILADELPHIA EDWAED MEEKS, 1002 Walnut Stkeet. Copyright. EDWARD MEEKS. 1885. SOG *G{S^^ PREnCS TO THE NEW EDITION. The American Revolution was one of the grandest events in history; and for its influence upon the condition of men, and the destinies of nations, it must long remain among the most interesting subjects of study. But readers have hitherto been without any work of authority through which they might be made acquainted with its actors. Scattered biographies of many of the leading soldiers of the time have indeed appeared, but no one production that could serve as a com- panion to our military annals, properly intro- ducing the dramatis personcB. In tins volume an attempt has been made to supply this want, a 2 V VI PREFACE. To produce it, the accessible i^ublished and un- published memoirs, correspondence, and other materials relating to the period, have been carefully examined and faithfully reflected. It is believed that while it will gratify a Laudable curiosity, it will also, in most cases, deepen the reverence with which the people of this country regard the purchasers of their liberties. PuiLADELPHIA, 1885. CONTENTS OF THE FIRST VOLUME. TAa* GEORGE WASHINGTON, Commander-in-Chief 1 Popular recognition of Grealness — Washington's extraordinary Abili- ties — How estimated — Comparison of him with his most illustrious Coitemporaries — His early Experience — Expedition to the Ohio — Ap- pointed a Lieutenant-Colonel — Fort Necessity — Great Meadows — Brad- doCiS's Expedition — Commands the Virginia Troops — Married — Dele- gated to Congress — Elected Chief of the Army— Establishment of Dis- cipline — Correspondence with Gage — Enthusiasm and Perseverance- British evacuate Boston — He visits Philadelphia — Concentrates his Forces in New York — Battle of Long Island — Embarkation at Brook- lyn — Retreat through New Jersey — He is invested with dictatorial Power — Battle of Trenton; of Princeton; of Brandyvvine; of German- town — Treaty with France — Battle of Monmouth; of Stoney Point — He visits Rochambeau — Treason of Arnold — Affairs in the South — Surrender ofCornwallis — Incidents at Newburgh — He takes leave of the Army — Elected President — Closing Events of his Life — His military Character. MAJOR-GENERAL NATHANIEL GREENE 61 Parentage — Education — Elected to the Rhode Island Assembly — Com- mands the Troops of the Colony — On Long Island — In New York — ^The Retreat through New Jersey — Washington's Confidence in him — Con- duct at Brandy wine; at Germantown — Conway Cabal — His Conduct at Monmouth; in Rhode Island — Resigns the Quartermaster's Depar*- ment — Affair at Elizabethtown — Presides at the Trial of Andr6 — Joins the Army in the South — Reception in Carolina — Anecdote — Passage of the Yadkin — Retreat to Virginia — Recrosses the Dan — Battle of Guil- ford Court-House; of Hobkirk's Hill — Siege of Fort Ninety-Six — Mur- der of Colonel Hayne — Battle of Eutaw — Close of the Campaign — Re- ceives public Honours — Conspiracy in the Pennsylvania Line — Close of the War — He removes to Georgia — His Death and Character. MAJOR-GENERAL ANTHONY WAYNE 105 Of Irish Descent — Interest in public Affairs — Raises a Regiment — Joins Sullivan in Canada — Appointed a Brigadier-General — Conduct in Nev^ Jersey — At Brandywine — Near Lancaster — Court of Inquiry —Battle of Germantown — He obtains Supplies — Battle of Monmouth — Washing- ton commends him — Storming of Stoney Point — Thanks of Congress — vii Vlll CONTENTS. Leiter to Wasainglon — Revolt of the Pennsylvania I/inc — Tlis Conduct in the South — Defeats the Creeks — At the Close of the War. enters th« Legislature — Commander-in-Chief against the Indians — His Success- Treaty of Greenville — Commissioner to treat with the Indians — Die« — His Monument MAJOR-GENERAL ISRAEL PUTNAM > 133 Now England Manners a Hundred Years Ago — Putnam's early Occu- pation — Engages in the Seven Years' War — Events of ITSS-t) — Bold Adventures — Bravery; Sagacity; Cheerfulness — He is appointed a Major — Rescues Captain Litile — Captured liy the Indians— Campaign of 1759— The Stamp-Act— Battle of Bunker Hill— Elecled a Major- Geiieral — Battle of Long Island — Curious Stratagem — Alfairs on the H)iuBur> — £s«&ii« at Horseneck — His Death and Character raAJOR-GENERAL HORATIO GATES 15' His early military Service — Stationed at Halifax — Accompanies Brad- dock — Wounded — Attack on Martinico — Peace of Pans — lie settles in America — Personal Appearance — Joins the revolutionary Army — Commands in the North — Rejoins the Commander-in-Chief — Descent of Burgxjyne — He resumes the Conimaiid of the northern Army — Battle of Suratog-a — Aims at Ihe supreme Authority— Ordered to the South — [X^feat at Camden — ICnd of his military Career — Elected to the New York Legistaiurc — Death — His abilities and Services. MAJOR-GENERAL WILLIAM EARL OF STIRLING.... 164 His Family and Education — Aid de Camp to General Shirley — Earldom of Stirling — His Claims to the Pcerago — Rotiiras from Great Britain to New Jersey — Einploymeiits — Private Life — Beginning of the Revolu- tion — Joins the Contiiiontal Line — Thanks o( Congress for his gallant Capture of a British TraiisiK)rl — Fortifies New York — Bailie of l^ng Island — Taken Prisoner — I'.veiits in New Jersey — Baltic of Brandy- wne — The CVsnway Cabal — His Death — His public and private Cha- racter. MAJOR-GENERAL PHILIP SCHUYLER 183 Described by Mrs. Grant of Laggan — The Scene of his Life — Service under Lord Howe — In the Legislature — Resists Britisli Aggression — Elected to Congress — Commands the northern Division — Thanks of Congress^Approach of Burgoyne — Affair of Fort Stanwix — Super- seded by Gates — His civil Services — Close of his Life. M \JOR-GENERAL JOHN SULLIVAN 194 His Youth — He is aduiined lo the bar — 1'ngagcd in the first military Op- position to British Rule — Enters Congress — Brigadier-General — Com- mands In Ciuiadii — Succeeded by Gates — Taken Prisoner on l^ng Island — Expeililion to Slaten Island — Battle of Brandywine — Battle of Gerniantown— Valley Forge — Commands in Rhode-Island — Dithcultie* with the French — Retreat iVom Newport — Thanks of Congress -Ex- pedition against the Iroquois — Polilical Services— Death. CONTENTS. iX BRIGADIER-GENERAL HUGH MERCER 215 The British Empire a Hundred Years Ago — Hugh Mercer in the Camp of Charles Edward— Kmigrales to America — Engages in the French War— Serves under John Armstrong — Becomes acquainted with Wash- ngton — Concord of the Colonics — Reflections on the Times — His first Campaign in the Revolution— Battle of Trenton— Battle of Princeton- Wounded — Dies. BRIGADIER-GENERAL JOHN ARMSTRONG 234 Affair at Kittanning — Appointed Brigadier-General — Resignation — Com- mands Pennsylvania Militia at Brandywine and Germantown — In Congress — Death. MAJOR-GENERAL HENRY KNOX 235 His Occupation before the Revolution— A Volunteer at the Battle of Bunker Hill — His Acquaintance with Andr^ — Commands the Artillery — In every Battle with Washington — His Confidence of Success — Praised by the Commander-in-Chief for his Conduct at Monmouth- Washington's Friendship for him — He founds the Society of Cincinnati — Appointed Secretary of War— His personal Appearance — Major General under President Adams — His Death and Character. MAJOR-GENERAL BENEDICT ARNOLD 243 Washington's Judgment of him — Analysis of his Character — His early Life — Reckless Adventures — Associations of Fort Ticonderoga — His Services on Lake Champlain — Expedition to Quebec — Bravery and Folly — Scenes at Quebec — Attack on the City — Enterprise, Indiscre- tion, Want of Honour — Conflict with the British Fleet — AflTair at Dan- bury — Appointed Major-Gencral — Understood by Congress — Conduct at Saratoga — Commands at Philadelphia — Secret mercantile Partner- ship — Interest in local Politics— The Meschianza— Reprimanded for Misconduct — Correspondence with Andrfi — Appointed to West Point — Meeting with Andrfi — The Treason — Ruffianism in Connecticut and Virginia — His Death — His Infamy. MAJOR-GENERAL WILLIAM SMALLWOOD 274 Appointed a Brigadier-General— With Sullivan at Staten Island— In the Buttle of Germantown— With Gates in the South— Absurd Pretension* in regard to Rank — Leaves the Army — In Congress — Death. BRIGADIER-GENERAL JOHN P. DE HAAS 275 Little Knowledge possessed in regard to him. MAJOR-GENERAL ARTHUR ST. CLAIR 276 His unhappy History- Early Life— With Wolfe at Quebec— Res.des in Pennsylvania — Marches with a Regiment to Canada, in 1776 — Ap- pcmted Major-General — Abandonment of Ticonderoga — Battle of Hub- bardton — Court of Inquiry — Washington's Confidence in him — Elected to Congress — Governor of the north-western Territoiy--IIi« Defeat by Ube Indians — Poverty— Death— Monument. X CONTENTS. /AM BRIGADIER-GENERAL SAMUEL ELBERT 28i Kxpeilition to Floridii — Governor ot"(;eorgia — Beuth. BRIGADIER-GENERAL WILLIAM IRVINE 284 Surgeos ill llie IJritisli Navy — Emigrates to Americu — a Member of the first CV>i.gress — Kaiscs a Regiment — Captured at Trois Rivieres — Ap- pointed Urigadier-General — Coininands Fort Pitt — Tlie Whisky In- Rurrectioii — Close of his Life. BRIGADIER-GENERAL GEORGE WEEDON 286 Account of him from SmytliW Travels — Retires from the Continental Service, and commands in the Virginia Militia. BRIGADIER-GENERAL JAMES M. VARNUM 287 Studies Law — Enters the Army — Commands in New Jersey — Resigns his commission — A Member of the Old Congress — Judge- of the Su- preme Court of Ohio — I'orensic Abilities BRIGADIER-GENERAL WILLIAM vVOODFORD 289 Wounded at the Uattle of Brandy wine — Taken Prisoner at Charleston — Death. BRIGADIER-GENERAL OTHO H. WILLIAMS 291 At Fort Washington — Camden — Made Adjutant-General — Brilliant Con- duct at the Battle of Eutaw — Brigadier-General — End of his Life. BRIGADIER-GENERAL STEPHEN MOYLAN 292 Aid-de-Camp to Washington — Commissary-General — Enters the Line of the Army — Commands a regiment of Dragoons — Appointed Brigadier- General. MAJOR-GENERAL ALEXANDER McDOUGALL 293 Washington's Opinion of him — His Address to the People of New York — Imprisonment — Defiance of the Assembly — Presides at the Meeting in the Fields — Activity in Preparing for the War — Colonel — Brigadier- General — Promotion recommended by the Commander-in-Chief — Ser- vices in the Army — Sent to Congress — Letter to General Reed — Minister of Marine — Member of the New York Senate — Deatli. BRIGADIER-GENERAL JOHN GLOVER 299 Marblehead Regiment at Cambridge — Glover's Services in organizing the Troops — Made a Brigadier-Gent ral — Correspondence with Wash- ington — Joins Schuyler — Has chargi of the surrendered Army of Burgoyne — In New Jersey— In Rhcde Island— In Massachusetts — His Death. BRIGADIER-GENERAL LACHLAN McIN fOSH 301 Settlement of live Mcintosh Family in Georgia— General Oglethorpe — John More Mcintosh— Education of Lachlan Mcintosh — Spends hia Youth with Henry Laurens — Becomes a Surveyor — Brigadier-General of the Georgia Militia— Kills Button Gwinnett in a Duel — Joins the Continental Army — Sent to the Ohio — With Lincoln in Charleston — Marches to Savannah — Disagreement with the French Admiral- Slaughter at Savannah— Foil of Charleston— Last Days of Mcintosh. C O N T K N T S. XI BRIGADIER-GENERAL WILLIAM THOMPSON 305 Pennsylvania Regiment of Riflemen — Tliotnpson serve* as Captain ia the French War — Joins llie revolutionary Army at Cambridge — AlTuir at Lechmcre Point— Appointed nrigadier-GonernI— Joins the Nbrihein Army— Attacks the Knomy at Three Rivers— Taken Prisoner— Ex- etmaged. BRIGADIER-GENERAL JOHN NIXON 306 At the Capture of Louishourg — At the Defeal of Abercroinbio — At Lex- ington and Runker Hill — Made lirigadier-General — With Gates — At the Battle of Stillwater — Death. BRIGADIER-GENERAL MORDECAI GIST 307 Trained to commercial Mfe— Personal Appearance- On I,oMg Island — Made Colonel — Urigadicr-Gencral — Hatlle ofCunulen — Tliiinks of Con- gress — Commands the light Troops at Combahee — Death — His Sons. BRIGADIER-GENERAL DAVID WOOSTER 309 Visits England — His Reception— Serves in the French War- In the Re- volution—At Quebec— The AflTair al Danbury— Mortally Wounded. MAJOR-GENERAL JOSEPH SPENCER... 311 In the French War — Among the first Brigadiers appoint'^! by the Conti- nental Congri-ss — In ISostcm— Sent to Connecticut — commands in Rhode Island — Failure al Newport- His old Ago. BRIGADIER-GENERAL ENOCH POOR 313 Lafayette's Recollections — Poor's early Life — Appointed Colonel — Or- dered to New York — Canada — I5rigadier-(Jcneral — Valley Forge — Ac- companies Sullivan to the Six Nations — His Death — Announced by Washington to Congress. BRIGADIER-GENERAL JAMES MOORE 311? First Tory Hlood shed in North Carolina—" Highlanders" and " Regula- tors" — Colonel Moore's Expedition against them — Correspondence with General McDonald — Battle with him — Thanks of the Provincial Con- gress — His Death. BRIGADIER-GENERAL JOHN PATTERSON 319 A Berkshire Preacher — John Pallerson in the Massachusetts Congress — Leads a Regiment to Cambridge — Ordered to Canada — March to Trenton — Shay's Rebellion. BRIGADIER-GENERAL JAMES REED 8X1 New Hampshire before the Revolution — Colonel Reed commands a B«- giment at Charleston — Sent to Canaf tb's is true of literary art, which is so much within Ihe HIS GREAT ABILITIES. 4 sphere ol reflection, it may be expected to find more striking illustration in great practical and public moral characters. These considerations occur naturally to the mind in con- templating the fame of Washington. An attentive exami- nation of the whole subject, and of all that can contribute to the formation of a sound opinion, results in the belief that General Washington's mental abilities illustrate the very highest type of greatness. His mind, probably, was one of the very greatest that was ever given to mortality. Yet it is impossible to establish that position by a direct analysis of his character, or conduct, or productions. When we look at the incidents or the results of that great career — when we contemplate the qualities by which it is marked, from its beginning to its end — the foresight which never was surprised, the judgment which nothing could deceive, the wisdom whose resources were incapable of exhaustion — combined with a spirit as resolute in its offi- cial duties as it was moderate in its private pretensions, as indomitable in its public temper as it was gentle in its personal tone — we are left in wonder and reverence. But when we would enter into the recesses of that mind — when we would discriminate upon its construction, and reason upon its operations — when we would tell how it was composed, and why it excelled — we are entirely at fault. The processes of W^ashington's understanding are 2ntirely hidden from ug. What came from it, in counsel or in action, was the life and glory of his country ; what went on within it, is shrouded in impenetrable concealment. Such elevation in degree, of wisdom, amounts almost to a change of kind, in nature, and detaches his intelligence from the sympathy of ours. W^e cannot see him as he was, because we are not like him. The tones of the mighty bell were heard with the certainty of Time itselt, and with a force that vibrates still upon the air of life, and will vibrate for ever. But the clock-work, by which they 4 GEORGE WASHINGTON. jvere regulated and given forth, we can neither see nor unde/stand. In fact, his intellectual abilities did not exist in an analytical and separated form ; but in a combinea and concrete state. They " moved altogether when they moved at all." They were in no degree speculative, but only practical. They could not act at all in the region of imagination, but only upon the field of reality. The sympathies of his intelligence dwelt exclusively in the national being and action. Its interests and energies were absorbed in them. He was nothing out of that sphere, because he was every thing there. The extent to which he was identified with the country is unexampled in the relations of individual men to the community. During the whole period of his life he was the thinking part of the nation. He was its mind ; it was his image and illustra- tion. If we would classify and measure him, it must be with nations, and not with individuals. This extraordinary nature of Washington's capacities — this impossibility of analyzing and understanding the ele- ments and methods of his wisdom — have led some persons to doubt whether, intellectually, he was of great superiori- ty; but the public — the community — never doubted of the transcendant eminence of Washington's abilities. From the first moment of his appearance as the chief, the recog- niiion of him, from one end of the country to the other, as THE MAN — the leader, the counsellor, the infallible in sug gestion and in conduct — was immediate and universal. From that moment to the close of the scene, the national confidence in his capacity was as spontaneous, as enthu- siastic, as immovable, as it was in his integrity. Particu- lar persons, affected by the untoward course of events, sometimes questioned his sufficiency ; but the nation never questioned it, nor would allow it to be questioned Neither misfortune, nor disappointment, nor accidents, nor delay, nor the protracted gloom of years, could avail ».o disturb the public trust in him. It was apart from cir- HOW TO ESTIMATE HIS CHARACTER. ^ cumstances; it was beside the action of caprice ; it was beyond all visionary, and above all changeable feelings. It was founded on nothing extraneous; not upon what he had said or done, but upon what he was. They saw something in the man, which gave them assurance of a nature and destiny of the highest elevation — something inexplicable, but which inspired a complete satisfaction. We feel that this reliance was wise and right; but why it was felt, or why it was right, we are as much to seek as those who came under the direct impression of his personal presence. It is not surprising, that the world re- cognising in this man a nature and a greatness which philosophy cannot explain, should revere him almost to religion. The distance and magnitude of those objects which are too far above us to be estimated directly — such as stars- are determined by their parallax. By some process of that kind we may form an approximate notion of Wash- ington's greatness. We may measure him against the great events in which he moved ; and against the great men, among whom, and above whom, his figure stood like a tower. It is agreed that the war of American Inde- pendence is one of the most exalted, and honourable, and difficult achievements related in history. Its force was contributed by many ; but its grandeur was derived from Washington. His charac'er and wisdom gave unity, and dignity, and effect to the irregular, and often divergent en- thusiasm of others. His energy combined the parts ; his intelligence guided the whole : his perseverance, and fortitude, and resolution, were the inspiration and support of all. In looking back over that period, his presence seems to fill the whole scene ; his influence predominates throughout ; his character is reflected from every thing. Perhaps nothing less than his immense weight of mind could have kept the national system, at home, in that po- sition which t held, immovably, for seven years; perhaps 1* D GEORGE WASHINGTON. nothing but the august respectability which his demeanour threw around the American cause abroad, would have induced a foreign nation to enter into an equal alliance with us upon terras that contributed in a most important degree to our final success, or would have caused Great Britain to feel that no great indignity was suffered in ad- mitting the claim to national existence of a people who had such a representative as Washington. What but the most eminent qualities of mind and feeling — discretion superhuman — readiness of invention, and dexterity of means, equal to the most desperate atlairs — endurance, self-control, regulated ardour, restrained passion, caution mingled with boldness, and all the contrarieties of moral excellence — could have expanded the life of an individual into a career such as this? If we compare him with the great men who were his contemporaries throughout the nation ; in an age of extra- ordinary personages, Washington was unquestionably the first man of the time in ability. Review the correspon- dence of General Washington — that sublime monument of intelligence and integrity — scrutinize the public history and the public men of that era, and you will find that in all the wisdom that was accomplished or was attempted, Wash- ington was before every man in his suggestions of the plan, and beyond every one in the extent to which he contri- buted to its adoption. In the field, all the able generals acknowledged his superiority, and looked up to him wiih loyalty, reliance, and reverence ; the others, who doubted his ability, or conspired against his sovereignty, illustrated, in their own conduct, their incapacity to be either his judges or his rivals. In the state, Adams, Jay, Rutledge, Pinckney, Morris — these are great names; but there is not one whose wisdom does not vail to his. His superiority was felt by all these persons, and was felt by Washington himself, as a simple matter of fact, as little a subject of question, or a cause of vanity, as the eminence COMPARED WITH HAMILTON. 7 of his personal stature. His appointment as commander- in-chief, was the result of no design on his part, and of no efforts on the part of his friends ; it seemed to take place spontaneously. He moved into the position, because there was a vacuura'which no other could supply: in it, he was not sustained by government, by a party, or by connexions; he susiained himself; and then he sustained every thing else. He sustained Congress against the army, and the army against the injustice of Congress. The brightest mind among his contemporaries was Hamilton's; a cha- racter which cannot be contemplated without frequent ad- miration, and constant affection. His talents took the form of'genius, which Washington's did not. But active, various, and brilliant, as the faculties of Hamilton were, whether viewed in the precocity of youth, or in the all- accomplished elegance of maturer life — lightning-quick as his intelligence was to see through every subject that came before it, and vigorous as it was in constructing the argu- mentation by which other minds were to be led, as upon a shapely bridge, over the obscure depths across which his had flashed in a moment — fertile and sound in schemes, ready in action, splendid in display, as he was — nothing is more obvious and certain than that when Mr. Hamilton approached Washington, he came into the presence of one who surpassed him in the extent, in the comprehension, the elevation, the sagacity, the force, and the ponderous- ness of his mind, as much as he did in the majesty of his aspect, and the grandeur of his step. The genius of Ha- milton was a flower, which gratifies, surprises, and en- chants; the intelligence of Washington was a stately tree, which in the rarity and true dignity of its beauty is as su- perior, as it is in its dimensions. GicoRGE Washington, third son of Augustine Washing- ton, and the eldest of five children by a second marriage, was born on the 22d of February, 1732, near the Potomac, in Westmoreland county, Virginia. His great grandfathei 8 GEORGE WASHINGTON. Uad einigratid about the year 1657, from the north of England, where his family had long been eminent, and in some of its branches was allied to nobility. The senti- ment of social respectability — the consciousness of having been born a gentleman, was an important element in Ge- neral Washington's character, and contributed to deter- mine the kind of reputation which he obtained from the country. In 1743, his eldest half-brother married the daughter of the Hon. George William Fairfax, and in con- sequence of this connexion, Mr. Washington was appointed surveyor in the western part of Virginia, by Lord Fairfax, then proprietor of the northern neck. At the Natural Bridge, in Rockbridge county, carved at a great elevation, theinitialsof the young surveyor's name, renewed, of course, in later years, are still shown to the traveller. For a long time it was the highest inscription at the place ; but lately, some one has had the indilTerent taste to register his insicj- nificance over the name of the Father of his country. There is another tablet on which the world will readily give him leave to write his name above that of Washing- ton, if he thinks fit. About the middle of the century, the attention of Lieutenant-Governor Dinwiddie, of Virginia, was attracted to the encroachments of the French, in the north, who appeared to be engaged in dinnecting their possessions in Canada with those in Louisiana, by a line of forts extending down the Alleghany and Ohio rivers; and he determined to send a messenger to require, in the name of the English monarch, that these posts should be discontinued. The mission was intrusted to Mr. Wash- ington, then at the age of twenty-one ; and in the begin- ning of November, 1753, he set out from Williamsburg, on his toilsome and perilous tour. Encountering many obstacles from the snow, he crossed the Alleghany moun- tains, visited the forks of the Ohio, now Pittsburgh, passed what is now the town of Franklin, at the confluence of the Alleghany river and French creek, ascended the latter ADVENTURE ON THE ALLEGHANY. 3 Stream, passing Meadville, as far apparently as the smal^. lake, Le Boeuf. It was at a fort at this point, near pro- bably to the present town of Waterford, in F]rie county, that Washington had his interview with the French officer in command on the Ohio, and delivered the letter of Go- vernor Dinwiddie. A letter was written in answer, and the youthful ambassador set off on his return, on the 15th of December, to traverse that wintry and inhospitable re- gion. An adventure on the Alleghany river, about two miles above Pittsburgh, on the 28th of December, is thus described in a journal kept by Washington for the informa- tion of Governor Dinwiddie, and afterwards published. "We expected to have found the river frozen, but it was not, only about fifty yards from each shore. The ice, I suppose, had broken up above, for it was driving in vast quantities. There was no way of getting over but on a raft, which we set about, with but one poor hatchet, and finished just after sun-setting. This was a whole day's work; we next got it launched, then went on board of it, and set off; but before we were half way over, we were jammed in the ice in such a manner, that we expected every moment our raft to sink and ourselves to perish. I put out my setting pole to try to stop the raft, that the ice might pass by, when the rapidity of the stream threw it with such violence against the pole, that it jerked me out, into ten feet water ; but I fortunately sav^d myself by catch- ing hold of one of the raft logs. Notwithstanding all our efforts, we could not get to either shore, but were obliged, as we were near an island, to quit our raft and make to it. The cold was so extremely severe, that Mr. Gist had all his fingers and some of his toes frozen;^' His conduct on this mission, made known by the publication of his journal, attracted much admiration and respect. In 1754, Washington was appointed lieutenant-colonel of a regiment of three hundred men, under the command of Colonel Fry, which was raised by the Assembly of Vir iO G E O R G E W A S H I N C T N. ginia, for the purpose of resisting (he aggressions of the French. By the death of Colonel Fry, .'■con afterwards, the command devolved upon him ; ami in July of that year he distinguished himself by a bravo detVnce of Fort Ne- cessity, at the Great Meadows, in the Aliigliany mountains, against a very superior French force, under the command of M. De Villier. The fort capitulated, after a loss of fifty-eight of the Virginia regiment, killed and wounded; but the gallantry of Washington and his comrades received the special thanks of the legislature of Virginia, and the applause of the country generally. Towards the close of the year, Colonel Washington, disgusted with the arrange- ments by which officers in the roval service were au- thorized to take rank above provincial officers, quitted the service, and fixed his residence at Mount Vernon, which he had recently inheritetl under the will of his brother. On the 14th of April, 1755, a council wi)^ held at the camp at Alexandria, by General Edward Braddock, com- mander-in-chief of the royal forces in America, the Hon. Au- gustus Keppel, commander-in-chief of the tleet. Governor Dinwiddie, and others, at which an enterprise against the French forts of Niagara and Crown Point, and the rein- forcement of Fort Oswego, were determined upon. In execution of the plan arranged at this council. General Braddock moved from Alexandria at the head of a de- tachment, consisting of two English regiments — the 44th and 4Sth — and some companies of New York and Vir- ginia provincial troops. Desirous of availing himself ol the local knowledge as well as military service of Colonel Washington, he offered him the post of aid-de-camp, which was readily accepted. The expedition left Fort Cumberland, on Willes's Creek, in Maryland, on the 12th of June, 1755. On reaching the Great Meadows, it was, upon the advice of Washington, determined to push for- ward twelve hundred troops, w^ith the light artillery, under the personal command of Braddock, with the greatest ra- BRADDOCk's DEFEAT. 11 pidity, to Fort Da Quesne — then just erected — to take ad- vantage of its sdpposed feebleness before reinforcements and supplies could reach it ; leaving the heavy artillery and baggage with the rear division of the army at Great Meadows, under Colonel Dunbar, with orders to join the advanced corps as soon as possible. The progress of this select corps was, however, so slow, that it did not reach the banks of the Monongahela till about the 8th of July. Colonel Washington, who had been left on the 23d of June at the great ford of the Youghiogany, ill with a vio- lent fever, rejoined the army on that day in a covered wagon, and entered on the services of his post. There being some steep and rugged ground on the north side of the Monongahela, the troops, early on the 9th, crossed tc the southern side, about twenty-five miles from Fort Du Quesne, and marched along that bank for about fifteen miles, when they recrossed and advanced towards the fort. They h^d just entered upon a level plain, about nine milea from Fort Du Quesne, now called in that neighbourhood Braddock's Field, when they fell into an ambush of Indians and French, which resulted in their destruction. Of this panic and rout, so well known as Braddock's defeat, in wliich a company of the finest troops, who, as Colonel Washington observed, a few moments before thought themselves equal to the force of Car»ada, were scattered and destroyed by a handful of French and savages, who merely intended to molest and annoy their march, one of the best accounts is contained in a letter written to Governor Morris by Robert Orme, one of the general's aids-de-camp, and dated at Fort Cumberland, July I8ih, 1755. A part of this letter only has ever before been published ; and as the narrative is clear and succinct, a part not hitherto in print is here extracted : "The 9th instant," says the writer, who was with the raam body, under Braddock, " we passed and repassed the Moncngahela, by advancing first a party of three hun- 12 G E O R G K WASHINGTON. dred men, wliich was iinmoiliately followed by one of two hundred. The general, with the column of artillery, baggage, and the main body of the army, passed the river the last time about one o'clock. As soon as the whole had got on the fort side of the Monongahela, we heard a very heavy and quick fire in our front. We immediately advanced, in order to sustain them ; but the detachments of the two and three hunilred men gave way, and fell back upon us, which caused such confusion, and struck so great a panic among our men, thai afterwards no military expedient could be made use of that had any elFect upon them. The men were so extremely deaf to the exhorta- tion of the general and the othcers, that they fired away, in the most irregular manner, but without any effect upon the enemy, and fled, leaving all their ammunition, provi- sions, and baggage ; nor could they be persuaded to stop, till they got as far as Gist's plantation ; nor there only in part, many of them proceeding as far as Colonel Dunbar's party, who lay six miles on this side. The oihcers were absolutely sacrificed by their unparalleled good behaviour; advancing sometimes in bodies, and sometimes separately ; hoping by such examples to engage the soldiers to follow them ; but to no purpose. The general had five horses kiUed under him, and at last received a wound through hijj right arm into his lungs, of which he died on the 13th instant. Poor Shirley* was shot through the head ; Cap- t?m Morrisf was wounded. Mr. Washington had two horses shot under him, and his clothes shot through in several places, behaving the whole time with the greatest courage and resolution. Sir Peter HalketiJ: was killed upon the spot. Colonel Burton§ and Sir John St. Clair]] ^^•ounded." The writer encloses a list of about six hundred oien • The Hon. Wm. Shirley, Esq., Secretary. ■f Roger Morris, Esq., Aid-ile-camp. j Colonel of the Forty-fourth. § Lieutenaiit-Colonel of the Forty-eighth. II Deputy Quartermast<>r-General. HISMARRIAGE, 13 killed and wounded, as far as could then be ascertained. Colonel Dunbar returned to Fort Cumberland with the remains of the army, the whole artillery, ammunition, and stores having been left or destroyed ; and not long after- wards marched to Philadelphia. The conduct of Colonel Washington elevated him to the highest place in the esteem and respect of the community. The command of the Virginia troops was given to him by the legislature of the colony, with flattering marks of the public trust and admiration. Until the close of (he year 1758 he continued to be actively engaged in opposition to the French, and in repelling the aflnual inroads of the Indians on the frontier. Th;se occupati'ins were of un- appreciable value in the formation of his military character, and in the establishment of a reputation throughout the colonies, which caused him to be looked to with universal confidence at the outbreak of the war of independence. But the minute detail of these irregular operations would be of little interest to the reader. In the winter of 1758 he retired from the army, and soon after was married to Mrs. Martha Custis, a lady of fortune, and amiable charac- ter, daughter of Mr. John Danbridge, and widow of Mr. John Parke Custis. In the following spring he retired to Mount Vernon, and in the honourable and manly pursuits of a Virginia planter, or country gentleman, he continued until, in 1774, at the age of forty-two, he was appointed by the convention of Virginia one of seven delegates to represent that colony in the Congress, at Philadelphia. This Congress assembled in Philadelphia, of that year, and Washington at once took that rank among its members which every circumstance of his life sustained. " If you Dpeak of eloquence," said Patrick Henry, one of the Vir- ginia delegates, when asked, on his return home, whom he thought the greatest man in Congress ; " Mr. Rutledge^ of South Carolina, is by far the greatest orator , but if you speak of solid information and sound judgment, Colonel ' Vol. I. 2 14 G E O R G K WASHINGTON. Washington is unquestionably the greatest man on that floor/' The second continental Congress assembled in Philadel- phia, on the 10th of May, 1775 ; and to this also Wash inston was a deleo-ate. It is not intended here to follow the history of the rise and progress of the Revolution ; nor to give a complete view of the war of the Revolution. It is designed merely to trace the personal connexion of Washington with the military events of the period. The acquaintance of the reader with the general outline of events is therefore taken for granted. The battles of Lex- ington and Concord had been fought, in April, 1775, and every where it was felt that the war had begun. Congress proceeded at once to take into consideration the subject of organizino: a K^'neral militarv defence throufrhout the colonies. It is owing to the patriotism and liberal views and feelings of Massachusetts, and especially of John Adams and Artemus Ward, that this ditficult task was accomplished. At this time a considerable body of New England troops, under the command of General Ward, who acted by the appointment of Massachusetts, was oc- cupied in the siege of Boston ; and, early in June, Mr. Adams moved that this force should be adopted by Con- gress, as the continental army ; and added, that it was his intention to propose, for commander-in-chief, a certain gentleman from Virginia, who was then a member of that body. A few days after, Washington was nominated by Mr. Thomas Johnson, of Maryland ; and the vote being taken by ballot, he was found to be unanimously elected. With a dignity that nothing ever surprised or embarrassed, Washington at once placed himself upon the very highest moral grountl with regard to this appointment, and as- sumed an impregnable position before the country, in which neither failure on his own part, nor cabals on the part of others, could disturb or impair his firmness, inde- pendence, and honour. On the following morning, when RECEIVES HIS COMMISSION 15 the decision of the House was communicated to him, ho rose in his place, and, in acknowledging and accepting the duty, said : — " But lest some unlucky event should happen, unfavourable 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 my- self equal to the command I am honoured with." At the same time he declined all pecuniary compensation, which, before the appointment, had been fixed at five hundred dollars a month ; but stated that he would keep an exact account of his expenses, which Congress, no doubt, would discharge. Two days after, in a letter to his wife, he gave utterance to a sentiment which was shared very generally throughout the nation : " As it has been a kind of destiny that has thrown me upon this service," said he, '< I shall hope that my undertaking it is designed to answer some good purpose." The appointment of General Washing- ton was made on the 15th of June, 1775, two days before the battle of Bunker Hill was fought. On the 19th, his commission and instructions as " general and com- mander-in-chief of the army of the United Colonies, and of all the forces raised or to be raised by them, and of all others who shall voluntarily offer their service and join the said army, for the defence of American liberty,' were made out, and delivered to him ; and on the 21st, attended by Lee, Schuyler, and other distinguished per- sons, he set out for the camp at Cambridge, tarrying a few days at New York. His progress was like the triumphant passage of a deliverer, or a " tutelary god ;" every where marks of public confidence and private respect were lavished upon him. He reached the camp on the 3d ot July, and immediately visited the several posts occupied by the American troops. The British army, under General Gage, the royal governor of Massachusetts, and commander ot the forces in America, amounted in all to about eleven thousand. The bulk of it, under General Howe, lay on 16 GEORGE WASHINGTON. Bunker's Hill, advanced about half a mile from the place of the recent action, where they were strongly entrenching ; the light-horse, and a few infantry, were in Boston, with a battery on Copp's Hill ; the remainder were on Roxbury Neck, where they were also deeply entrenched and strongly fortified. On the other hand, the American forces were extended around Boston, at the distance of from one to two miles, in a pretty complete line of invest- ment, above twelve miles in circuit, from Mystic or Med- ford river, on their lefr, to Dorchester on the right. Winter Hill and Ploughed Hill, near the Mystic, on the extreme left, were occupied by the New Hampshire line, and part of the Rhode Island troops; Prospect Hill, in the imme- diate vicinity, was held by General Putnam, and the Con- necticut troops ; at Cambridge, in the centre, a part of the Massachusetts regiments were stationed ; and the residue of the Rhode Island troops were at Sewell's farm, between Cambridge and Boston, at the mouth of the Charles river. At Roxbury, General Thomas, with two regiments of Connecticut and nine of Massachusetts, had thrown up a strong work, which, with the irregularity of the ground, rendered that position a safe one. The whole American force was nominally about seventeen thousand ; but the effective force present was not much above fourteen thou- sand. At the first council of war, which was held at head- quarters, on the 9th of July, it was resolved unanimously to hold and defend these works as long as possible ; but it was also agreed that two and twenty thousand men at least were necessary for this service. The first embarrassment which the commander-in-chief had to encounter on assuming the command, was in car- rying out the arrangements of Congress for transferring the existing military forces to a uniform, continental system, and organizing the whole upon one comprehensive esta- blishment. About the 18th of June, Congress, m pro- viding for the national arrny, which it used every effort to APPOINTMENT OF GENERALS. il constitute, had appointed four major-generals — Artenius Ward of Massaciiusetts, at that time commander of all the forces raised by that colony; Charles Lee, a colonel in the British array, on half pay, who formally resigned that com- mission as soon as he was appointed, and before he was commissioned by Congress ; Philip Schuyler of New York; and Israel Putnam of Connecticut ; and on the 22d of June eight brigadier-generals were elected — Seth Pom- roy of Massachusetts, Richard Montgomery of New York, David Wooster of Connecticut, John Thomas of Massachusetts, John Sullivan of New Hampshire, and Nathaniel Greene of Rhode Island ; and the commissions of these officers were brought to the camp by General Washington. In these appointments Congress came in conflict, in some cases, with existing rank, derived from the separate colonies ; and in others, with the opinions en- tertained by some of the gentlemen themselves, in respect to their relative pretensions. Disgusts were occasioned ; threats of resignation made; and difficulties created which required all the influence and persuasion of the commander in-chief to control. The system was at last completed and the army distributed in the following manner: Six brigades of six regiments each were formed, and the whole thrown into three divisions, each consisting of two brigades. That forming the left wing was stationed at Winter and Prospect Hills, under Major-General Lee, with whom were Brigadiers Greene and Sullivan ; the right wing was at Roxbury, under Major-General Ward ; the centre was under General Putnam, at Cambridge, and the commander- in-chief had his headquarters at the same place. The next concern was the establishment of discipline, and the extension and completion of the works. Military subordination and authority were almost unknown. In many instances, the officers of the regiments had been elected bj the men, and were not superior to them in social standing. The greater part of the troops were %rmers and 2* B 18 GEORGE WASHINGTON. mechanics, who had rushed into the field, in the sudden enthusiasm created by the outrages at Lexington and Con cord, and the contest at Bunker Hill. These acknow- ledged no duty but that which inclination suggested. " On entering the camp near Boston," says Colonel Wil- kinson, arriving recently from Maryland, " I was struck with the familiarity which prevailed among the soldiers and officers of all ranks ; from the colonel to the private I observed but little distinction ; and I could not help re- marking, to the young gentlemen with whom I made ac- quaintance, that the military discipline of these troops was not so great as the civil subordination of the community in which I lived." General Washington grappled these evils with a strong hand. The strictest government was enforced, and the distinction between officers and soldiers established and preserved by rigorous military penalties. At the same time, the works were carried on by the efforts of the whole army, with the utmost rapidity. But every thing was wanting ; engineers, tools, materials. Early in August, the astounding fact was discovered, that the actual quantity of powder in the camp did not amount to more than half a pound to each man. Owing to a mistake, by which the committee of supplies had returned the whole amount fur- nished by the province, instead of the existing quantity, the deficiency was not discovered sooner. " When this fact was made known to Washington," says General Sullivan, in a letter written August 5th, 1775, "he was so struck, that he did not utter a word for half an hour." What added to the consternation was, that owing to the rapacity with which stores of every kind were appropriated and re- tained by every village and settlement throughout the country, there did not exist the least probability that this vital want would be in any degree relieved. For a long time the safety of the army, without bayonets or powder, depended upon the enemy's ignorance of their destitution About the middle of August, General Washington ad ORDERS OF RETALIATION. 19 dressed to Lieutenant-General Gage a communication re- monstrating against the treatment imposed upon prisoners in the hands of the British, who were represented as having been "thrown indiscriminately into a common jail, ap- propriated for felons." This remonstrance was based upon the ground that the treatment of prisoners taken in open war, does not properly depend upon political con- siderations, but upon obligations arising from the rights of humanity and the claims of rank, which were declared to be universally binding and extensive, except in case of retaliation. General Gage, in reply, denied the cruelty of treatment, but admitted that military rank was disre- garded in the disposition of prisoners, as he acknowledged no rank not derived from the king. He declared that by the law of the land, the lives of the prisoners were destined to the cord; and added some advice as to the political duty and personal behaviour of the American general, which showed that none of the arrogance of British as- sumption had yet been abated. General Washington re- plied in a tone of dignified and lofty rebuke, and closed the correspondence, with the remark, that if the British officers, prisoners of the Americans, received a treatment different from that which it had been wished to show them, they and their general would remember the cause of it. About the same time orders of retaliation were issued by General Washington ; but his far-sighted wisdom and vir- tue soon controlled this natural feeling. The orders were in a few days revoked ; and the prisoners directed to be treated with "every indulgence and civility." It was emmently honourable to the intelligence and good feeling of Washiifgton, that he was never at any time induced to adopt the system of retaliatory treatment of prisoners. When Congress at a later period, in the case of General. Lee, were disposed to such a measure, his earnest and un- answerable expostulation was interposed. 20 GEORGE WASHINGTON. The most imminent danger, however, to the American cause, lay in the approaching departure of the troops, at the expiration of their brief period of enlistment. In view of the danger, and of the importance of reviving the spirits of the country, and justifying the confidence that had been placed in him, General Washington was very strongly in- clined to attempt an assault upon the city. On the 8th of September, he submitted his opinion, and a plan, to a council of war; but it was unanimously deemed inexpe- dient. On the 18th of the following month, he renewed his suggestion to another council, and it was again over- ruled. When the ditliculties arising from the disorgani- zation of the army a few months later had fully displayed themselves, General Washington seems to have regretted that he did not, at an early period, act upon his own inde- pendent judgment. His opinion of the feasibility of the plan, continued to be unchanged. " Could I have fore- seen the difficulties which have come upon us," said he in a letter to Colonel Reed, dated January 14, 1776, *< could I have known that such a backwardness would have been discovered in the old soldiers of the service, all the generals upon earth should not have convinced me of the propriety of delaying an attack upon Boston till this time. When it can now be attempted, I will not under- take to say ; but this much I will answer for, that no op- portunity can present itself earlier than my wishes." In reply to an inquiry in regard to the bombardment of the city, addressed by General Washington to a committee of Congress in camp, and by them referred to Congress, it was resolved by that body, on December 22d, that if the general and his officers should be of opinion that a success- ful attack could be made upon Boston, he might do it in any manner he thought fit, notwithstanding the town and property in it might be destroyed ; and John Hancock, in communicating this resolution lo Washington, added, HIS DEVOTED ENTHUSIASM. 21 "may God crown your attempt with success. I most heartily wish it, though by it I may be the greatest suf- ferer." None of the troops before Boston were engaged to serve beyond the end of December, 1775, and the Connecticut and Rhode Island troops only until the first of that month. To aid in the establishment of a new army, a committee of three, at the urgent request of Washington, had been appointed by Congress on the 29th of September, to con- fer with the commander-in-chief at camp, and the autho- rities of the New England states. The committee con- sisted of Franklin, Lynch and Harrison ; and they arrived at headquarters on the 18th of October. The plan being digested, the greater difficulty remained of inducing the soldiers to consent to re-enlistment. The ardour of ex citement had declined, or the interest of novelty worn off, or the fatigues and privations of the field in winter were too severely felt ; and the utmost disinclination to continue was exhibited by the soldiers. To counteract this, little existed but the exhortations, the advice, the remonstrances, of the commander-in-chief. He gave himself to the task with devoted enthusiasm and perseverance ; and at no pe- riod does Washington appear so great ; at no period did he sustain such a weight of diversified public cares and labours, as at this era. At one time, when the old enlist- ments had expired, and before the new ones had come fully into action, the American force was reduced to nine thousand and six hundred men. It was a period of intense responsibility, anxiety, and toil to Washington; yet his security in relation to the enemy required that his condition should be concealed ; but the country murmured at his in- action. "The reflection on my situation and that of this army," he writes, on the 14th of January, 1776, "pro- duces many an unhappy hour when all around me are wrapped in sleep. Few people know the predicament we are in, on a thousand accounts ; fewer still will believe, if 22 GEORGE WASHINGTON. any disaster happens to these lines, from what cause it flows. I have often thought how much happier I should have been, if, instead of accepting the command under such circumstances, I had taken my musket on my shoulder, and entered the ranks ; or, if I could have justified the measure to posterity and my own conscience, had roiirtMl to the back country and lived in a wigwam." A little earlier, he wrote, " It is e;ij;ier to conceive than to describe the situation of my mind for some time past, and my feel- ings under our present circumstances. Search the vast volumes of history through, and I much question whether a case similar to ours can be found ; to wit, to maintain a post against the flower of the British troops for six months together, without * and at the end of them to have our army disbanded, and another to raise, within the same distance of a reinforced enemy."t Either from mistake, or from another cause, the enlistments in the new army, in- stead of being made for the war, were for one year, unless sooner dismissed by Congress. The consequences of this error were well nigh fatal, when, in December of the fol- lowing year, Washington was flying before Cornwallis, in New Jersey, and the army was on the eve of political dis- solution, while its military existence hung by a thread. The active and enterprising mind of the commander-in-chief, however, had not been engrossed by his own present con- cerns, or his schemes limited to a single position. The expedition against Quebec, designed to take advantage of the diversion produced by the movements of General Schuyler by the order of Congress against Montreal and St. Johns, was planned in the autumn of 1775, by the commander-in-chief; and is one of the finest movements of • Left blank in tlie original, for fear of the miscarriage of the letter The wonl, no doubt, intcndoil to he supplied, was powder or aminuiiifion. t Tiiis is from the orisjiiwl, recetitly published in the life of General Keod, vol. j. p. 141. It differs from the version given in Marshall's Life of Washington, vol. i. p. 39. and in iSparks's Washington, vol. iii. p. 225 ^hich was from the letter books. HIS ANXIETY TO ATTACK BOSTON. 23 his military genius. The heroic march of Arnold, the commander of the expedition, to Quebec; the junction with him at that place, effected by Montgomery, after having captured Montreiil ; the night attack upon Quebec, and its failure, will be related in other parts of this work. The object of the expedition was not realized, but the evi- dence afforded by it of the genius, and sagacity, and daring of Washington, reinams unimpaired by the result. In addi tion, also, to other labours, Washington gave much atten tion to the formation of a marine, which proved to be of the utmost service. On the 1st of October, 1775, General Gage was re- called, and General Howe succeeded him as commander- in-chief. About the middle of December, it became known that an expedition was preparing in the British fleet, at i3oston, but for what service it was designed was not ascertained. Intelligence was immediately despatched by the commander-in-chief to the authorities at Rhode Island and New York, which seemed likely to be points intended to be attacked. Soon after. General Lee, at the request of Governor Cooke, of Rhode Island, was de- spatched to Newport, with his guard and a party of rille- men, to take measures for counteracting the disaffection of that place. He returned after a few days, and, on the 11th of January, 177G. was again despatched, with orders to raise volunteers along his route, and provide for the defence of New York, the danger and the value of which were keenly felt by the commander-in-chief. It turned out, however, that the naval expedition was not intended for New York, but for North Carolina, whither it sailed, with several regiments, under the command of General Clinton. The anxiety of General Washington to strike a decisive blow against Boston continued unabated. On the 16th of January, he again urged the necessity of such an at- tempt, and the probability of its success, upon a council 24 GEORGE WASHINGTON. of war, who were of opinion that the time for this step had not yet arrived. In the following month, the pros- pects of the American array had somewhat improved. A considera'ble body of militia from Massachusetts had as- sembled, and troops raised by Congress from Pennsylvania and Maryland had arrived, increasing the whole regular force to above fourteen thousand men. A supply of pow- der also had been received. TowarcTs the close of Febru- ary, appearances indicated an intention on the part of General Howe to evacuate Boston. Washington renewed his effort to induce a council of officers to sanction his de- sign of an assault ; but, to his great mortification and dis- appointment, it was again declined. It was determined, however, that more decisive operations should at once be undertaken. Accordingly, for the purpose of compelling either a decisive action or the abandonment of the town, possession was taken of Dorchester Heights,- by two thou- sand men, under General Thomas, on the night of March 4th, 1776 ; a violent cannonade and bombardment having been kept up the two previous nights from Cobble Hill and Roxbury, to divert the enemy's attention from the real object, and to harass them. Before morning, the men had with great industry thrown up such works on Dorches- ter Heights, that they were protected from the fire of the town. Ground was broken soon after on Nook's Hill, a northern spur of the Heights. The greater part of Boston, and the harbour, being thus commanded by the American position, it was obvious that this force must be dislodged, or the town abandoned. A detachment of three thousand men, under the command of Lord Percy, was despatched, on the afternoon of the 5ih, for the purpose of carrying the Heights ; but, owing to the state of the tide, not more than one thousand were able to embark, in six transports, and these falling down towards the castle, were driven on shore by a violent storm, and the attempt was not renewed. Preparations had been made for an assault on the west BRITISH EVACUATE BOSTON. 25 side of the town, with four thousand men, if there had been a serious attack by the British on Dorchester Heights. All farther hope of maintaining his position in Boston was now abandoned by General Howe ; and he prepared for a precipitate evacuation. His departure was characterized with all the haste and tumult of a flight. On the 17th of March, 1776, the city was abandoned ; and in a few days the whole fleet, of seventy-eight vessels, carrying eleven thousand men, including sailors and one thousand refugees, sailed out of Nantucket road for Halifax. The same day, General Putnam took possession of Boston ; and, on the l8th, the commander-in-chief entered. This event was hailed with the utmost enthusiasm throughout the whole country. A vote of thanks was passed by Congress to the general and the army, " for their wise and spirited con- duct in the siege and acquisition of Boston ;" and a gold medal ordered to be struck, having on one side a view of the general and his staflT, surveying the departure of the enemy's fleet from Boston, and the motto, " Hostibus primo fugatis." Though it was known that the immediate destination ol the fleet was Halifax, Washington had no doubt that New York was to be the next place of attack. A portion of the American troops were accordingly moved to the south, before the fleet had left the road ; as soon as they had ac- tually put to sea, Washington himself set out, and arrived in New York on the l3th -of April : and orders were issued to concentrate the whole force at that place ; which was eflected a few days after. Shortly after, the general visited Philadelphia, for the purpose of a personal inter- view with Congress, and was absent about a fortnight. On the 28th of June, General Howe, with a part of his fleet, appeared off Sandy Hook ; the residue followed in a few days, and the British headquarters were established at Staten Island, where it was intended to wait for reinforce- ments, which were expected under Lord Howe. th« Vol. 1 S 26 GEORGE WASHINGTON. brother of General Howe, who was also invested witn powers as a commissioner to treat with the colonies. His arrival did not take place until the middle of July : mean- while the Declaration of Independence had been published, and all schemes of that kind were for ever concluded. Lord Howe attempted to open communications with General Washington, by sending a letter with a flag, but, with singular imbecility of judgment, defeated its design by refusing to recognise the official station and rank of the commander-in-chief. The resentment of the country and of Congress was quickened by this injudicious arrogance of one who had professed to come with offers of recon- ciliation, and the possibility of an accommodation was less than ever. By the middle of August, 1776, all the reinforcements expected from England — making the whole force about twenty-five thousand men — had arrived ; and it was ob- vious that the fate of New York was speedily to be de- cided. Even after the arrival of the troops from Pennsyl- vania, Delaware, and Maryland, the rank and file of Washington's array did not amount to eight thousand men present and fit for duty. A body of militia, chiefly from New York and Connecticut, raised the number of the American force to about double that amount. Of these forces, one brigade was at Brooklyn, where an extensive camp had been laid out and strongly fortified, towards the main part of the island, by works erected by General Greene, and, on the water side, defended by batteries at Red Hook and Governor's Island. The principal portion of the army was on the island of New York, where a fort, at the north part of the island, and opposite to Fort Lee, called Fort Washington, had been erected, and was rapidly strengthening. Efforts to obstruct the passage of the river, between these forts, had been made. At King's Bridge, where a body of three thousand New York militia, under General George Clinton, were asse:nblt,d, the BATTLE ON LONG ISLAND. 27 grounds were strongly fortified. Redoubts were thrown up in various places ; batteries erected along the North and East rivers, and every arrangement for defence, that the case allowed of, was made. In directing the erection of works at Brooklyn, General Washington had probably from an early period anticipated what actually took place — that the attack upon New York would be made across Long Island. Towards the close of August, the probability of this course being adopted having become much stronger, General Sullivan, who had succeeded General Greene in the command, the latter having become ill with a fever, was strongly reinforced. On the morning of the 22d of August, the principal part of the British army landed, under the command of General Clinton, between the Narrows and Sandy Hook, and took up a position, extending through Utrecht and Gravesend, from the Narrows to the village of Flatbush. On the 25th, General Putnam was ordered to take the command at Brooklyn, and a reinforcement of six regiments was sent there. On the 26th, General Washington passed the day at Brooklyn, giving directions, and enforcing upon all the necessity of vigilance and enterprise ; in the evening he returned to New York, at a very early hour. On the 27th, the engagement began. The American position, it has been stated, consisted of an entrenched camp, behind Brooklyn, or a line of redoubts extending across the pe- ninsula along the high' ground, from Wallabout Bay, on the East river, on the left, to a deep marsh beside a creek, near Governor's Cove, on the right. Between the two armies extended a range of thickly wooded hills. The British centre, composed of Hessians, under De Hiester. w-as at Flatbush, about four miles from the American lines, and communicating with Brooklyn by two roads, one di- rectly across the heights, and the other somewhat more circuitous, through the village of Bedford, on the Brooklyn side. The left was under General Grant, near the Nar- 28 GEORGE WASHINGTON. rows, about five miles distant, connecting with Brooklyn by a road along the coast, by Governor's Cove. The right, under General Clinton, with whom were Earl Percy and Lord Cornwallis, about nine at night, on the 26lh, moved silently by a circuitous route into the road leading from Jamaica to Bedford, The coast road, and the road be- tween Flatbush and Bedford, had been strongly guarded by detachments, and on the hills; on the direct road from Flatbush, a fort had been constructed by the Americans, but, on the Jamaica road, only a few slight patrols were stationed, and the pass on the heights was wholly unoccu- pied. This neglect, on the part of General Putnam, who, b}'^ written instructions from the commander-in-chief, on the 25th, had been directed to guard the roads between the camps with his best troops, was the cause of the dis- aster which resulted. At about three o'clock in the morning, intelligence was brought that Grant was in motion, on the coast road. Lord Stirling was directed to advance against him, and General Sullivan against the centre, at Flatbush. These detachments were reinforced during the morning, and the contest went on with the greatest spirit. Meanwhile Clinton, who, by his move- ment to the extreme right, had reached and seized the pass upon the Jamaica road, captured the patrols, having completely outflanked the American army, and, about day- break, was in full march to take them in the rear. About nine o'clock, Clinton had reached Bedford, and Sullivan, engaged with De Hiester in front, found himself hopelessly surrounded ; his men retreated, skirmishing with great ob- stinacy and spirit, which, owing to the irregular nature of the ground, they were able to do with great effect, but he himself was captured. Lord Stirling, taken in the rear by a detachment under Lord Cornwallis, met with the same fate ; and the discomfiture of the American army was complete. In this engagement, the American force aroo»-^':''c'. to about five thousand, and the British to fifteen HIS INEXPRESSIBLE ANGUISH. 29 thousand, with an excellent artillery. The American loss amounted to about twelve hundred ; of whom nearly eleven hundred were made prisoners. The British loss was twenty-one officers, and three hundred and forty-six soldiers, killed, wounded, and taken prisoners. Nothing but the excessive caution of General Howe prevented the camp at Brooklyn being attacked and perhaps carried by his victorious army. The American troops, especially those under Lord Stirling, comprising Shee's Pennsyl- vania, Haslett's Delaware, and Sraallwood's Maryland regiments, were admitted to have behaved with the utmost gallantry. General Washington crossed over to the camp at Brooklyn, when the engagement became warm ; and is said to have beheld with " inexpressible anguish"* the overthrow and destruction of his best troops. The loss, however, proved far less than was reasonably to have been expected. General Washington seems, during the 27th, to have intended to risk another engagement at the camp ; and for that purpose orders were sent to Mifflin, at King's Bridge, to repair with some Pennsylvania troops to Brook- lyn ; but, on the evening of that day, it became evident that the enemy intended to rely upon regular approaches, with the aid of the fleet, and not to hazard an assault upon the works. The 28th passed without important occurrences ; a heavy rain operating nearly to suspend all action on either side. On the 29th a heavy fog prevailed, but a sudden change in the wund revealed the British fleet at anchor ofT Staten Island, preparing evidently to take advantage of a breeze, which if it continued, would enable them to come up into the East river, and cut off all communication with the opposite shore. Nothing remained but to take the most immediate measures for removing the American troops from Long Island. Fortunately the fog continued during • The expressdon of the judicial historian, who rarely used intensities. 3* 30 GEORGE WASHINGTON. the night. The embarkation began in the evening, and before the proceeding was discovered on the following morning, all the troops, amounting to nine thousand, the military stores, provisions, and all the artillery, except a fevi^ heavy pieces which could not be dragged through the muddy roads, were safely carried over. The van-guard were crossing the East river, but were out of reach of fear before the movement was known. General Washing- ton remained at the ferry the whole night, superintending and aiding the embarkation. The covering party, con- sisting of Pennsylvania, and the remnants of the Maryland and Delaware troops, was under the command of General Mifflin, A narrative, written by Colonel Edward Hand, of the Pennsylvania brigade, and recently published, pre- sents the following incident as one of the occurrences of that night: "Orders had been delivered, about two o'clock in the morning, to General Mifflin, by Alexander Scammell, one of the aids-de-camp of the commander-in- chief, stating that the boats were ready, and the com- mander-in-chief anxious that the troops should arrive at the ferry. The order being reiterated with great confi- dence, as directly from Washington himself. General Mif- flin put his troops in motion. "I had not gone far," says Colonel Hand, who was commanding under Mifflin, "be- fore I perceived the front had halted, and hastening to inquire the cause, I met the commander-in-chief, who per- ceived me and said, 'Is not that Colonel Hand."" I answered in the affirmative. His excellency said he was surpnsed at me in particular, that he did not expect I would have abandoned my post. I answered that I had not abandoned it, that I had marched by order of my im- mediate commanding officer. He said it was impossible. I ^old him I hoped, if I could satisfy him I had the orders of General Mifflin, he would not think me par- ticularly to blame. He said he undoubtedly would not. General Mifflin just then coming up, and asking what the UNSUCCESSFUL NEGOTIATIONS. 31 matter was, his excellency said, 'Good God! General Mifflin, I am afraid you have ruined us, by so unseason- ably withdrawing the troops from the lines.' General Mifflin replied with some warmth, < I did it by your orfier.' His excellency declared it could not be. Gene- ral Mifflin swore, ' by God, I did!' and asked, 'did Scam- meil act as an aid-de-carap for the day, or did he not?' His excellency acknowledged he did. « Then,' said Mif- flin, ^ted by a storm which lasted for three days and nights, and which ravaged the face of the country, destroying army equipments, ammunition, and, in nume- rous instances, human life. .The return of D'Estaing com- pleted the misfortunes of the Americans. He too had suf- fered from the hurricane. His ships were shattered — his resources diminished — his officers discontented, and his troops dispirited. He could do nothing. It was in vain that the American officers protested against his determi- nation. The enterprise was abandoned. The American forces were drawn off' in the niyht, Greene covering the retreat. With their disappearance, the enemy's force was set in motion. By three o'clock in the morning, the for- mer had reached their redoubts at the end of the island, and at seven the Briu^h were upon them. Greene, be- lieving that they had pursued in detachments, counselled that they should be met boldly ; but his opinions were overruled. The troops were kept on the defensive. Sharp was the skirmishing that followed. From adjacent eminences the American redoubts were cannonade i. An AFFAIB AT EL I Z A BE T H T O WN. 75 attempt was made to turn their right under cover of seve- ral vessels of war; and, for a while, the whole pressure of the British was upon this wing of the array. It was strengthened accordingly. Greene was here in person. His coolness and judgment were conspicuous. He was fighting in the very eye of his homestead. He was minis- tering to freedom at the family altars. The enemy were rej)ulsed after a terrible struggle. They were driven off with great slaughter. The cannonade was renewed nex day, but wiih no effect, and no farther attempt was made to impede the retreat of the Americans. They crossed over to the main that night, without loss or interruption. Greene had now held the office of quartermaster-gene- ral for two years. It was an onerous and unthankful one. A discussion in Congress, as to his mode of administering it, and the mutilation of all the valuable features of a scheme which he had devised for its better organization, afforded him an opportunity of resigning, of which he promptly availed himself. His letter to this effect gave great offence, but his merits saved him from his enemies. The army and the country knew his value, though a party in Congress still angrily denied it. The events of the war silenced the controversy. Greene was at Springfield, N. J., with the Jersey militia, and two brigades of continen- tals, while Washington, watching the movements of Clin- ton, who threatened West Point, moved with the main army tovv^ards the north. While such was the position of the several opponents, Greene was advised of the landing of the enemy at Elizabethtown, and of his advance towards him, with a force fully trebling his own. Expresses were sent to the commander-in-chief, and, with all proper pre- cautions taken, Greene so disposed his little army, by ex- tending his front, as to cover two of the bridges by which the enemy's approach could be made. Forced from this position, it was in his power to contract his wings, and »tire to a strong position in the rear of the village. Lee, 76 NATHANIEL GREEN b;. supported by Ogden, was posted at Little's bridge, on the Vauxhall road ; while that in front of the town was confided to Angell, whose command was strengthened by several small detachments, and provided with one piece of artillery. Their retreat was covered by the regiment of Shreve, which took post at the third bridge, — a short dis- tance behind them. The remainder of the army, consist- ing of two brigades, occupied some higher grounds still farther in the rear. The flanks were guarded by the militia. The action was begun by a sharp cannonade which lasted for two hours, the enemy manoeuvring as if resolved to turn the American flanks. Their right, meanwhile, was advancing upon Lee, who disputed the passage so hand- somely, that, but for the fact that his position was com- manded by a neighbouring hill, which the enemy, by crossing at a ford above, had succeeded in gaining, it would have been scarcely possible to dislodge him. While these events were in progress on the left, Angell, on the right, was engaged hotly with another body of assailants. His single fieldpiece and small force, did famous execution against four times their number, maintaining the conflict with undaunted valour for more than half an hour. They yielded only to superior numbers, and retired to the bridge in the rear, carrying off their wounded, and saving their artillery. The British pressed the pursuit, but were re- pulsed by Shreve. Greene now contracted his front, drew in his regiments, and retired slowly and safely to the strong position which he had chosen with reference to this emergency, among the hills in the rear of the village. From this point, commanding both roads, he effectually checked the pursuit. Here he awaited for the renewal of the conQict. But the stubborn defence which had been already made, discouraged the assailants. Clinton found it a more pleasant and less periloi:s employment to give Elizabethtown to the flames. The burning houses were MAJOR ANDRE. 77 the signal to Greene to change his tactics. He descended from the hills, but the enemy was already in full retreat, and beyond the reach of the avengers. An interval of anxiety followed, which was not action. The war languished. The sluggish nature of events, how- ever, was suddenly broken by the treason of Arnold, and the arrest of Andre. Greene was called to preside over that court of inquiry to which the case of the British spy was confided. The world knows the decision of the court. Painful as was the duty before thera, it was too obvious for evasion. Andre was convicied on his own confession. The fate of armies, the safety of states and nations de- manded that he should be the sacrifice of that treachery in which he shared, and which he may have prompted. In all the proceedings connected with this affair, Greene approved himself equally the man and the warrior — at once true to humanity and duty — yielding his tears to the necessity which he was yet sternly commissioned to obey. The post which Arnold had abandoned, was confided to his keeping. He bad, however, scarcely entered upon its duties, when he found himself appointed to the armies of the south. Gates, the victor at Saratoga, had yielded his laurels to Cornwallis, at the fatal fight of Camden. The war needed a more prudent and not less courageous warrior. The debris of Gates' army awaited Greene at Charlotte, North Caro- lina. Here he found it, but it was a wreck indeed ; — few in number, feeble in spirit, and wanting every thing neces- sary to proper performance. To examine into the nature of the country he designed to penetrate, — to ascertain the objects and resources of his enemy, — to find or make the resources essential to his own troops, and to discipline thera for active and immediate service, req'uired and re- ceived his instant attention. His people were dispirited ; his enemy exulting in repeated conquest. To avoid pre- cipitate conflict with the latter, without stid farther de- 7* 78 NATHANIEL GREENE. pressing the morale of the former, required the talents ot superior generalship. Greene brought these to the work before him. It was fortunate that he was admirably sus- tained by his own officers, and the peculiar abilities of the partisan captains which the south furnished for co-opera- tion with him. With Marion, Sumter, and Pickens, of the Carolina troops ; and Morgan, Williams, Howard, Lee, and Carrington, of the regular service, he might well found his hopes upon a resource which would scarcely fail him, the material of war being still so greauly wanting. He soon entered the region of bloody debate and peril. A detachment, under Morgan, was sent across the Catawba, while Greene, with the main army, encamped upon the Pedee. His presence and proceedings were very soon produc- tive of the most admirable effects. His appearance in Carolina was hailed by results of the most encouraging character. Marion and Lee carried Georgetown by sur- prise, though they failed to hold it ; and Morgan, after some small successes against the tories, met and defeated Tarleton, in the bloody and brilliant battle of the Cowpens. Greene soon appeared in the camp of Morgan, on the banks of the Catawba. Meanwhile, Cornwallis had destroyed his oaggage, to facilitate his movements, and was preparing to cross the same river. His objects were unknown; but Greene endeavoured to anticipate them. He drew his array together, and hastened its march towards Salisbury. " There is great glory ahead," he writes, in one of his letters; "and I am not without hopes of ruining Lord Cornwallis, if he persists in his mad scheme of pushing through the country." The aim of the British general was not long doubtful. The waters of the Catawba, by which the two armies were separated, swollen by recent rams, now began to subside. The fords were practicable. Greene determined to dispute the passage with his militia, and to retard and harass the progress of the enemy, with ANECDOTE OF GREENE. 79 whom he was not yet sufficiently strong to engage in equal battle. Cornwaliis effected the passage of the Catawba, in a rain storm, and under the American fire. ' A sharp conflict ensued. The British suffered severely; but the death of General Davidson, who commanded the militia, had the effect of dispiriting and dispersing them. Greene retreated upon Salisbury. On his route, an anecdote oc- curred, which admirably illustrates the uniform patriotism of the American women, Greene's despondency did not escape the eyes of the landlady, at whose house he stopped for repose and refreshment. He alighted from his horse, in rain and storm, through which he had ridden all the day. His garments were soaked and soiled, — his limbs were weary, — his heart was sad ; and, when asked about his condition, he answered that he was "tired, hungry, and penniless." Scarcely had he procured refreshment, when the good woman drev/ him to a private apartment, and placed in his hands two bags of specie, — all her little hoard, — the treasure of years, and, possibly, all the earn- ings of her life. "Take these," said she; "I can do without them, and they are necessary to you." Cornwaliis urged the pursuit with vigour, sending General O'Hara forward to prevent the Americans from passing the Yadkin. But the providence of Greene, by which boats had been secured in advance, enabled them to efiect the passage before the British appeared in sight. The whigs of Salisbury were bringing up the rear, when O'Hara's advance broke upon them. A sharp skirmish followed, in which both parties claimed the victory. But the Americans gained their object. They threw the river between them and their pursuers, without loss to themselves baffled the efforts of O'Hara to seize upon their boats, and, in the delay thus caused to the pursuit, the Yadkin, swelled by successive rains beyond its bounds, effectually saved the Americans from farther annoyance. It was in vaiD that the British opened with a fierce cannonade upon so N A T H A N I E L G R L E N E. the camp oi Greene. Their bullets tore the shingles trona the root' of the cabin in which he sat, writing his de- spatches, but without disturbing his composure or injuring his person. Cornwallis continued the pursuit, as soon as he could cross tlie river, in the hope of cutting off his adversary from ihe upper lords of the Dan. The manoeuvres which followed from this chase have been justly considered among the most masterly that had been exhibited during the American war. Greene's great merit was that Fabian policy which had so frequently saved Washington. On the 10th of February, the two armies lay within tweiiiy- five miles of each other. Nearly one month had been consumed in this protracted pursuit, and the eyes of the nation were drawn upon the rival armies. To crush his adversary without impediment, Cornwallis had destroyed his baggage. This showed a rare and stern resolution, at all hazards to effect his object. But one river lay be- tween the British general and Virginia. This crossed, ami the south must be detached from the confederacy, certainly for the time, possibly for ever. Greene felt the vast importance of the trust; and his genius rose with its pre.*5sure, and proved equal to its exigencies. We cannot pursue these beautiful details of progress, as exquisitely nice and as admirably calculated as any work of art, by which a series of the most masterly manoeuvres, and occa sional skirmishes of great spirit, placed the Americans in safety on the northern banks of the Dan, and finished this remarkable retreat and pursuit. "Your retreat," said Washington, "is highly applauded by all ranks." Tarle- ton, an enemy, writes — " Every measure of the Americans, difring their march from the Catawba to Virginia, was ju- diciously designed, and vigorously executed." And the retreat, thus made in the immediate presence of afar supe- rior foe, was made by troops many of whom had never seen battle, — raw militia, in fact, — without adequate cloth- BRITISH RETREAT FROM THE DAN. 8) ing, without supplies, in the deptli of winter, and uncle.'' inclement skies. The genius of their commander supplied deiiciencies, soothed discontent, encouraged hope, and converted a dispirited militia iiiio confident and veteran soldiers. Greene soon obtained supplies and reinforcements. Re crossing the Dan, it was now the turn of Cornwallis to re- treat. Pickens advanced with a strong body of miliiia on the left Hank of the enemy. Caswell, with a subsidy from the North Carolina railiua, made a similar demonstration from the opposite direction. The two armies lay sullenly watch- ing each other, when the British columns suddenly began their retreat from the banks of the Dan. Bodies of picked men from the American army followed his movements, at once to harass his progress, and ascenain his objects. These were doubiful. At one moment he seemed to threaten Pickens, at another the magazines on the iloanoke ; but, suddenly turning his back upon the Dan, he moved to- wards Hillsborough, a region filled with loyalists, whence he issued his proclamation calling upon the faithtul to repair to his standard. But the time had come when, as he himself expressed it, the friendly had grow n timid, and the hostile inveterate. Greene watched and followed all his movements, determined to prevent his flight to the coast — a purpose which his proceedings seemed to indicate. The delay of a few days, he well knew, would be fatal to the British. The American partisans were closing around them. The army of Greene was receiving daily acces- sions ; and several smart skirmishes, in which the British sutiered great losses, had encouraged their adversaries with fresher hopes. Greene was not yet sirong enough to give battle to Cornwallis ; but circumstances made it neces- sary that he should keep the field, and exhibit equal bold- ness and activity. His light troops were continually em- ployed in beating up the British quarters, harassing their F 82 N A T U A N I E L G R E E y E. march, cutting off' their supplies, — doing every thing, in short, but pitching their stanihirds before them in the pla.n. It became the policy of Cornwallis to force him to retreat or fight. A war of manoeuvre followed, which our limits will not permit us to describe. The result of this struggle, at length, brought Greene to Guilford Court-House within fourteen miles of the British position. A battle was now nearly inevitable, and, yielding somewhat to popular opi- nion, Greene was prepared to wait tor it, if not to seek it. It was on the 15th of March, 1781, tliat he drew up in order of battle. The ground was chosen with regard to the nature of the American troops. It was broken and irregu- lar. The first line of Greene was drawn out on the skirts of a wood, and at right angles with the road, by which the enemy was approaching. It consisted of raw and untrained militia from North Carolina, who had never crossed arms with an enemy. But they were practised marksmen. They were commanded by Generals Butler and Eaton. The second line, arranged about three hundred yards behind the first, consisted of raw troops also, Virginians, led by Stevens and Lawson, Both of these lines extended across the road. About four hundred yards behind the second line, the continentals were placed under Huger and Wil- liams. They presented, in conformity with the aspect of the grountl they occupied, a double front, — two regiments of Virginia regulars, under Greene and lludford, on the right, and the first and second Maryland ou the left, under Gunby and Ford. A corps of observatic:), composed of the dragoons of the first and third regiments, Lynch's rifieraen, and a detachment of liglitintantry, under Lieutenant-Colonel Washington, covered the right llank. Lee, with his legion, supported by detachments of light infantry and rillemen, increased tlie securities of the left, and both of these corps occupied the woods at the extremities of the first line. The artillery, with the exception of two pieces, under Cap- BATTLE OF GUILFORD COURT-HOUSE. Oo tain Singlotoii; which were pushed forwartl, cominaiuling the enemy's first approaches, was posted with the regulars on the hill, near the Court-House. The van of the British army came under the fire of Singleton's pieces about one o'clock in the day. A brisk cannonade from the royal artillery answered them, until the British had formed their line of battle. They were ranged in a single line, and without a reserve. They advanced under cover of the smoke from dieir artillery, and the militia yielded to the cluirge of the bayonet, deli- vering a partial fire only. The enemy, pressing forward upon the second line, were suddenly checked by a sharp fire from the corps of Washington and Lee. To dislodge these was necessary to the British progress. Concentrating a suiiicient force for this object, Cornwallis drove them slowly before them, suffering severely under their fire, and making his way only with the bayonet. The battle now began with double spirit. The Virginia militia met the tide of conflict manfully, undismayed by its torments, and the bad example of the North Carolinians. Their fire told with deadly effect upon the assailants, whom nothing saved but the flight of the first line of the Americans, and their own admirable discipline. The right wing of the Americans gradually yielded, but with ranks still unbroken. The British followed up their advantage with the bayonet, and the retreat of the vving, which still held together, be- came general throughout the line. Retreating to the third line, they took post on the right of the Marylanders. On the left, where the militia was supported by the corps of Lee and Campbell, the action still continued. The eye of Greene w^as cheered by the prospect, with all its disadvan- tages. By this time the whole of the British army, with the exception of its cavalry, had been brought into action. [t had suflfered to considerable degree, in all its divisions, from the American fire. The line was dismembered , some of its corps were scattered ; and, with his third line 84 NATHANIEL GREENE. fresh, and as yet untouched, the American general had every reason to think that the victory was within his grasp. The veteran regiment of Gunby was the tirst to feel the British fire, as General Webster, with his division, flushed with the successes already won, advanced upon the third line of the Americans. Discipline met discipline. Thoy were received by a steady blaze of fire, general and well- directed, under which they reeled, stunned and con- founded, and before they could recover from the shock, the Americans were upon them with the bayonet. The rout was complete. Had the cavalry of Greene been pre- sent, or could he have ventured to push forward another regiment to follow up the blow, the conflict would have been finished in victory. But he dared not peril his line with such a hope, particularly as the battle was still raging on the lefi, and had assumed an aspect unfavourable to his fortunes. Stevens, who commanded the left w'ing of the Virginians, had been disabled ; his militia, after a gallant struggle, had at length yielded to the push of the veteran bayonet, and, still delivering their fire from tree to tree, as they withdrew, were winding through the woods to the rear of the continentals. 'J'heir retreat left the column of Leslie free to liasten to the support of that of O'Hara, who was now hurrying to the assault upon the second regiment of Maryland. It was their shame and Greene's misfortune, that this latter body failed to follow the brilliant example just given them by that of Gunby, — failed in the moment of trial, and, breaking at the first rude collision with the enemy, scattered themselves in confusion through the field. Gunbv's regiment again interposed to check the progress of the British. Wheeling to the left upon the advancing guards of the enemy, they compelled a renewal of the contest. Fierce and wild was the encounter. Gunby's horse shot down, Howard suc- ceeded to the command. At the moment of greatest peril, »vhen the strife was at its worst, Washington Wilh his BATTLE OF GUILFORD COURT-HOUSE. 85 cavalry dashed through the British ranks, smiting terribly on every side. The charge of the bayonet, led by Howard, rendered the shock irresistible, and Stuart, the commander of the guards, being slain, they sought safety in flight, sulTering dreadfully under the close pursuit of Howard and Washino'ton, who gave them no breathing moment to re- unite their broken ranks. Cornwallis beheld the peril of the day. The field could be saved only by an expedient, at once bold and terrible. He did not scruple to use it. The ground was covered by his favourite but flying troops. The Americans were close upon their footsteps. All was about to be lost, when the stern but sagacious Briton com- manded his artillery to open upon the mingling masses, though every bullet told equally upon friend and foe. "It is destroying ourselves," remonstrated O'Hara. "Very true," was the reply of Cornwallis, " but it is necessary that we should do so, to arrest impending destruc.ion." The expedient was successful ; the pursuing Americans paused from the work of death ; but one half of the British battalion was cut to pieces by their own artillery, z^s the British rallied, Greene seized the opportunity to recall his troops, and retire from a field at once of defeat and victory. The laurel had been within his grasp more than once dur- ing the conflict. T'he premature flight of the first line, before their iire had well told upon their assailants — the unhappy panic of the second regiment of Maryland — had lost liira the day. But for these events the victory was beyond all question. To Cornwallis, who had narrowly escaped captivity in the conflict, it was such a victory as that of Pyrrhus. It left him undone. The fruits of the batile of Guilford enured to the Americans. The remain- ins: force of Cornwallis showed a diminution of one fourth of its strength, and its progress was encumbered by his numerous wounded. It soon became necessary that he should retreat from the barren field that he boasted to have won. Greene pressed upon his retreating footsteps. But Vol. I. 8 86 NATHANIEL GREENE. the flight of Cornwallis was too precipitate ; and, after having contributed, by an eager pursuit, to precipitate nis movements, Greene forbore the chase, and prepared to contemplate a new enemy and another field of action. He determined once more to penetrate the territories of South Carolina, and to attempt, in detail, the distraction of the several British posts, by which they held that state in sub- jection. His appearance in Carolina — his approach to the British post at Camden — was not long concealed from the enemy whom he now sought. The departure of Cornwallis for Virginia left Lord Rawdon in command of the British forces in the extreme south. Rawdon was a bold, cooi, and vigilant commander. He prepared for the enemy whom he had been taught to respect. Greene advanced to a posiiijn within half a mile of the British lines, but failed to beguile Rawdon from their shelter as was his ob- ject. Auvices of a[5proaching reinforcements to the latter, prompted the American general to withdraw from this po- sition, after a demonstration sutliciently long to encourage his troops. He then, in a sudden movement, by a cir- cuitous route, proceeded to throw himself across the path of the advancing reinforcements of the British. Satisfied, f. lally, to leave these to the interposing forces of JMarion and Lee, Greene returned to the post at Hobkirk's Hill, which he had before taken, in proximity to the lines of Rawdon. It was while his troops, fatigued by a long and rapid march, and almost famished by twenty hours of ab- stinence, were preparing a hasty breakfast, that a fire from his vedettes, and a rapid roll of the drum announced the approach of the enemy. In a few moments all was in order for battle. The line occupied a long low ridge, the left wing resting upon an impassable swamp, the right in air, and stretching away into the forests. The field was one unbroken tract of wood. The high road to Camden ran throue:h the centre of the encampment, dividing the BATTLE OF HOBKIRk's HILL. 87 two wings and leaving a space for the artillery. The con- tinentals were too few to form more than a single line of nine hundred men. The Virginians formed the right, led by Huger. The left, which included the veteran regi ment of Gunby, and Ford's second Maryland, was com- mitted to Williams. Harrison, with the artillery, held the centre, while the reserve, consisting of only two hundrea and fifty militia, was posted with Washington's cavalry. The approach of Ravvdon was well arrested by the picket guard, under Benson and Morgan, who disputed the ground inch by inch. Kirkwood, with the remnant of the noble regiment of Delaware, next encountered him with a sturdy spirit that could not be surpassed ; but they could only delay and not arrest or baffle the superior forces that came against them. As Greene beheld the front of the British line, he was struck with its narrowness, and the keen eye of military genius at once seized upon the ad- vantage which the fact suggested. To outflank the British was his prompt decision. " Let Campbell and Ford turn their fianks," was his cry — " the centre charge with the bayonet, and Washington take them in the rear." The battle opened from right to left in an instant ; the Ameri- can fire soon declared its superiority to that of the enemy. Right and lefr, the regiments of Ford and Campbell were gallantly pressing forward upon the British flanks ; and all things promised well for victory, when the former fell by a mortal wound, and a momentary confusion followed in his ranks. It was at this critical moment that the regiment of Gunby, the favourite corps of the army — the only veterans which it had to boast, and to which all eyes turned for example — faltered in the advance, recoiled in panic, and, mistaking a precautionary order of their leader for an order to retreat, wheeled about and hurried in confusion \o the rear. Their officers strove in vain for their recall Panic, in war, is a loss of all the faculties. They were deaf and blind to all things but danger, and the impulse ot 88 NATHANIEL GREENE. terror prnvpd irresistible. Tlieir retreiit isolated the regi« mentofFord. The pernicious example spread. The raw troops under Campbell had been playing well their parts until this disaster, but they soon fell into confusion. The second Virginia regiment still held their ground. Greene, heedless of all the risk, leil them on in person, and pe- riled himself as freely as a captain of grenadiers eager to pluck distinction from the bloody shrines of a first battle- field. But the day was irretrievable. It was in vain that he sj)urred his horse throiigh the thick of conllict, and stood upon the loftiest places of ihe field, indill'erent.to its swarming bullets. His eyes opened only on disaster. To draw oil' the army, to cover the fugitives with the troops that still held together — to do all to lessen the aggregate of loss and mischiei" — was now ihe obvious policy. The artillery was about to be lost. Greene himself seized upon the drag-ropes. His example was irresistd)le. His men gathered about him ; but they began to fall fast beneath ihe assaults of the enemy. Of forty-five that had rushed to liis side, but fourteen remained. All would have been lost, but for the timely charge of Washington's cavalry. This charge arresteil the pursuit. The day closed, and, returning like a wounded tiger to his jungle, Greene paused within two miles of the scene of conllict to draw together his shattered forces. Deep was the mortification of the American general ; — but he did not despair. He had his consolations. Two days after this event saw the garrison of Fort Watson yielded to Marion. That of Fort Mntte soon shared the same fate, in spite of all the efforts of the British general. Orangeburg was yielded to Sumter, and Rawdon began to tremble Jest he should be cut off from his communication with the coast. He evacuated Camden ; thus acknowledging, that, though successful in a pitched battle, the necessary effect of the raanceuvres of the American general had been to gire him the superiority. And these results were the SIEGE OF FORT NINETY-SIX. 89 Iruits of a single month of activity. The strong post of Nineiy-Six, or CambrifJge, was still held by the British under Colonel Cruger. The garrison consisted of near six hundred men, more than half of whom were regulars. The rest were loyalists, practised warriors, men of deadly aim with the rifle, and most of whom fought with a haltei round their necks. Tlie post was one to be defended to the last, at every ha^iard. Greefie's resources in the per- sonnel and matarid of warfare, were equally deficient, but he was resolved to make the most of his ])ossessions. He planted his standard before Ninety-Six, and began the leaguer. The defences were strong. They consisted of a redoubt consisting of sixteen salient and returning angles in the Ibrm of a siar. It was surrounded by a dry ditch, frieze, and abatis. On the opposite' si(Je, at a distance of one hundred and eighty yards, a stockade fort, strengthened by two block-houses, stood upon a gentle eminence. This fort was separated from the town by a small valley. A stream which ran through the valley supplied the garrison with waer. A covered way kept up the communication between tlie two places; and, as a defence on the right— the left being protected by the fort — an old jail had been converted into a citadel. The place thus strong, was still farther strengtheneil by the garrison, as the tidings reached them of Greene's approach. The whole force which the American general could bri.ig against them did not much exceed a thousand men. Mis chief engineer was the fa- mous Kosciuszko. The leaguers continued to advance. Day and night the labour was carried on. The skirmishes were incessant. The besieged made frequent sallies, 'I'he spiiit of both parties continued to rise. A second parallel was at length completed — a mine had been begun — the enemy was summoned, and returned a defiance, and ^ third parallel was in progress. The British guns were silenced — their works were overawed — and the siege was drawing to a close. It had continued eighteen days, 90 NATHANIEL GREENE. The garrison was dispirited. Despairing of relief, Crugei must soon have yielded the post, when he received tidings of the approach of Lord Rawdon. Greene was already in possession of this knowledge. It was by means of a woman who had a lover in the British garrison, that Cruger received the tidings also. This strengthened his resolution; and nothing now was left to the American ge- neral but to attempt by assault, what he now could not hope to effect by the tedious process of the leaguer. Raw- don, eluding Marion and Sumter, was at hand with an overwhelming force. Not a day was to be lost. The as- sault w s made on ihe iSth June, at noonday. Lee, with the legion, wiih a detachment of Kirkwood's Delawares, was charged with the attack of the right. His forlorn hope was led by Major Rudolph. Campbell, with his own re- giment, ihe first Virginia, and a detachment of Maryland- ers, was to attempt the redoubt. Duval of Maryland, and Seldon of Virginia, commanded his forlorn hope. A con- stant fire from the forts and towers was to cover the as- sault, and sweep (he parapet for the attacking parties. The party commaiuied by Lee, and led by Rudolph, soon succeeded" in their object, and captured the fort. The at- tack on the redoubt was a far more serious mailer. At the signal of battle, the batteries and rifle tower opened their are, anil the several parties rushed forward to the murder ous struggle amid the smoke and thunder of artillery. Duval and Seldon, with their devoted bands, soon made their way into the ditch of the redoubt, and began to throw down the abatis. They were welcomed with a blaze of lightning on every side. Through every loop- hole and crevice did the fatal rifle pour forth its swift and certain death ; and the very overthrow of the abtitis, which went on steadily before their efforts, only the more exposed them to the deadly aim of the defenders. The Dattle raged fiercely, but not long, in this quarter. The ranks of the assailants were soon terribly thinned, as they FORT NINETY-SIX EVACUATED 91 strove in the narrow pathway, hemmed in between two walls of fire, and met, whenever they strove at the waii.i above them, by a glittering array of pikes and bayonets Duval and Seldon were both stricken, but not mortally. Armstrong had fallen dead at the head of his company. But the survivors struggled on. The curtain was won ; and this was all. The conflict was too unequal to be con- tinued. Greene dared no longer cripple his army, with an enemy's force, like that of Rawdon, so near at hand. His troops were withdrawn — his wounded, even, brought ofT under a galling fire — and the leaguer was abandoned There was no good fortune to co-operate with the labours of the American general. Again was the victory plucked from his enjoyment when almost in his grasp. He had not simply to forego his prize ; — he had now to fly before the superior forces of his enemy. But Rawdon soon discontinued pursuit, and it was not long before he withdrew the garrison from Ninety-Six. The necessities of the British army rendered it necessary that they should concentrate in the neighbourhood of the seaboard. Greene wheeled about, at the first show of letreat on the part of Rawdon. The latter continued on his progress to Charles- ton. Orangeburg became the rendezvous of the British army. The Americans were t-ncouraged by several small successes. A force of the enemy's cavalry were captured by Lee, within a mile of their camp. A large supply of British stores were cut olf; the patriots were rapidly crowding to the ranks of the partisan commanders; and Greene once more pushed forward to try his fortunes in a pitched battle. He was now at the head of two thousand men ; most of whom were miliiia indeed; but they were led by Marion, Sumter, and Pickens, under whose eyes they always knew how to fight. But the oppressive heat of a southern summer interfered to check the arm of war, and a brief respite from tou was found among the salu- brious hills of Santee. Still, the light troops and the parti 92 NATHANIEL GREENE. san militia were occasionally busy. Pickens was em- jkloyed to punish the Indians, whom he oveicaine in a man- ner new to their ex[)erience, hy invading them in their fortresses by mounted riflemen. Sumter, Marior., and Lee had shaken their flags in the faces of the British garrison, at Charleston; and the spirit of American valour was never more lively and enterprising than when the army was lying quiet, during the dogdays, in the camp of repose. It was during this period that the British executed Colonel Hayne, in Charleston, as a spy. Greene threatened a terrible retaliation for this crime ; and, but for the termi- nation of the war, would have executed his resolve un- sparingly. He writes to Marion — " It is not upon tory officers that I will retaliate, but upon the British." He felt the necessity — never so obvious as in time of war — of making himself feared by his enemy; if necessary, by the adoption of any practice of severity by which the wan- ton severities of the foe may be restrained. It was fortu- nate for humanity that fate interposed to arrest a warfare in which revenge was fast becoming a principle of common action. On the 22d of August, the camp of Greene was broken up. He had grown impatient of repose. " It must be victory or ruin," was his language ; and he crossed the Wateree to seek his enemy, who lay at the Eutaw Springs. But he had been disappointed of supplies and reinforce- ments. His resources were still very inferior. But some- thing must be periled, and he moved forward with equal silence and celerity. Stewart, who commanded the British, lay at Eutaw in a pleasant security, never dreaming of a foe. On the night of the 7ih of September, Greene slept beneath the green shadows of an olive oak, within seven miles of the British camp. The Americans were in motion at daybreak, the next morning. Stewart was thmking that morning of feeding, rather than fighting His foraging parties, laden with sweet potatoes, which they BATTLE OF EUTAW SPRINGS. 9,^ had been gathering in the contiguous plantations, were suddenly surprised at this agreeable occupation by the advance of the Americans. The British were awakened from a pleasant slumber, to prepare for a struggle which roight conduct to one infinitely more profound. The po- sition taken by Stewart was one of considerable strenglh. On his right was the Eutaw creek, which issued from a deep ravine, thickly fringed with brush and underwood. The only open ground was an old cornfield, through which the public road now ran. This was commanded by a strong brick house, two stories high, the garret-windows furnishing a third story, from which the sharp-shooters could wing their murderous missiles to advantage. A garden in the rear of the building, surrounded by a strong pali- sade, extended to the edge of the creek. A barn and sundry olher outbuildings, furnished defensible places for temporary refuge and retreat. The country was well wooded all around. The British camp lay in the field, under cover of the house ; and, in marching out for battle, such was the unexpectedness of that event, their tents were suffered to remain standing. Stewart, with these advantages, naturally made a skilful disposition of his troops. His force was somewhat supe- rior numerically to that of Greene. They had been trained by an admirable discipline, though a portion of them con- sisted of European recruits, who had never been in action. He drew them out, with a large confidence in their capacity to keep their ground, occupying the skirt of the woods in front of the camp, and fully covering the Charleston road. A detachment of infantry, wiih one fieldpiece, was pushed forward, about a mile in advance of his line, to skirmish with and retard the American approach. The army of Greene advanced in two columns, each containing; the material of a line of battle. The first was composed of the njilitia of South and North Carolina, led by Marion, Pick- ens, and Malmedy. In the second, came the continentals. 94 N A T n A N I K L GREENE. — contingents chiefly from jNIaryland, Virginia, and Nor(h Carolina. General Sumter commanded on the right ; Colonel Campbell led the centre, composed of Virginians ; and the left, consisting of Marylanders, was committed to Williams. Lee, with his legion, and Henderson, with the state troops, were charged with the protection of the flank. Washington, with his cavalry, and the dcbns of Kirk- wood's command of Delawares, formed the reserve. The artillery, four pieces in all, was equally divided between the columns of attack, and moved Mith them. About tour miles from Eutaw, Lee and Henderson en- countered a detachment of the British cavalry, who, mis- taking the ailva!ice for a party of militia, only rushed upon their ruin in rushing to the attack. They were dispersed, leaving several dead, ami forty prisoners to the Americans. Believing this to be the advance of the enemy, Greene pro- ceeded to display his first column, moving slowly forward in order of battle. Lee and Henderson, supported by Williams, and the two pieces of artillery confided to his column, soon came in conflict with the British van, which was quickly driven in upon its main body, the American line pressing forward, and firing as it advanced, until halted by the presence of the enemy's whole array. Stewart, finding himself as yet opposed to militia only, was disposed to take the struggle coolly and with inditfereiice. His men were ordered to keep their ranks and repel the assailants by their fire only, — which, from regulars, was supposed to be quite enough for the dispersion of mere railitia. But these were not mere militia ; — they were the partisans of Marion and Pickens; and, under such leaders, had a confi- dence in their strength and securities which made them quite as stubborn as veterans. Fire answered to fire, and Marion's men always made their mark. They held their ground unwavering. The legion infantry of Lee was engaged with the British sixty-third, on the right ; Avhile on the left, Henderson, with the state troops, was compelled to BATTLE OF EUTAW SPRINGS. 96 endure a galling fire from a neighbouring thicket, where Majoribanks was posted with a battalion of light infantry. Never did militiamen do better duty than on this occa- sion. They yielded only to the whole weight of the British army, enforced by the forward movement of the bayonet, but nol till they had delivered seventeen rounds a man. Their places were supplied by the troops under Sumner, composed of new levies also. Greene was hold- ing back his regulars — the continentals of Williams and Howard — for the last grand effort. Sumner brought his men handsomely into action. The battle soon raged with renewed violence; and the British gave back, unable to withstand the galling severity of the American fire. Stewart felt that every thing was at hazard. The second line of the Americans had only partially engaged in the action. Their cavalry and reserve were still fresh, while, with the exception of the reserve, the whole of the British army had been breathed by the battle. Without loss of time, bringing up his reserve, he condensed his line, and, posting his cavalry under Coffin, on the left, for its better protection from Washington's horse, he apposed a new and firmer front to the fierce fire of the Americans. The latter were now overbalanced by this accession to the British force. Henderson was wounded, and the centre yielded. At this sight the British pressed forward witii a shout, deeming the field already won. This was the mo- ment for Greene's unemployed battalion. " Let Williams and Campbell sv.'eep the field with their bayonets," was the order which the two brigades hastened to obey. At the same moment, observing that the American right now extended beyond the enemy's left, Lee ordered iludolph to turn their flank, and pour in a destructive fire. The air rang with opposing shot and shout. The biigade of Maryland rushed upon" their foes without pulling trigger The Virginians, less practised in action, returned the fire of the British, and their gallant leader, Campbell, received 96 N A T II A N I E L G R E E N E. his inoi' al wouiul at lliis iiregnant inonuMit. Bui ihe ardoiir of the AiiH'ric':uis was unchecked by the.se unj^torUines. Their bohl assault and eager fuing inspired a jianic on the British left which .-oon extended to the cenire. Tliey shrunk, with the exception of the BufTs, from tlie searching thrust of the bayonet ; and these opjiosed themselves to the rush of the Americans in vain. Pressing forward in a compact line upon the ranks already disordered by the b.iyonet, they delivered a sheet of (ire which swept the opjiosing masses tVom the paih. The rout promised (o be complete. Thi' British seemed to be di-spersed. Their fugitives hurried olf madly upon the Charleston road, car- rying the news of their defeat to the metropolis, and filling their friends every where with terror. The Americans pressed the pursuit until they fell in with the Briash tents, as they had been left siantling, and filled with such creature com- forts, ready to their hands, as they h;id not for a long season been permitted to enjoy. The temptation was too great for discipline. Their ranks were broken. They crowded the tents, and in the conviction of a victory completely won, gave themselves up to the gratification of their appe- tites. The dainties and strong drink of their enemies achieved what their weapons and valour had not done ; and the British general, peculiarly fortunate in the post which he had taken, anil in his own and the coolness of certain of his chiet's and soldiers, prepareil to take aiivan- tage of the disorder among his foes. The British camp was commanded by the brick house already described, into which JMajor Sheridan had thrown himself with a large body of the fugitives. He had gained this shelter with difficulty, some of the pursuing Americans ha\ ing nearly succeeded in entering along with him. But the point once gained was a fortress, upon which the fugitives could still fall back, and find protection. Majoribanks, with his bat- talion, still held his ground in the close thicket, by which tJie Eutaw creek was covered. Ic was in vain that the BATTLE OF EUTAW SPRINGS. 97 Americans struggled to dislodge him. Attempting to penetrate the dense forest lastness of blackjack^ Washington spurred forward wilh his cavalry; but a destructive fire received his command, spread death and coniusion among them, brought down all but two of his officers, and his own horse having been slain, he himself was made a pri- soner. The Delawares advanced witli'ihe bayonet, and, supported by the remains of the cavalry led by Hampton, renewed the effort to dislodge this stubborn enemy. The attempt was made in vain. The position was too strong, and too firmly maintained. Majoribanks was at length enabled to fall back upon the house which Sheridan oc- cupied, and to take a new position in the picketed garden in its rear. Coffin drew up his cavalry across the Charles- ton road ; and, thus supported, Stewart once more pro ceeded in the effijrt to reform his line of battle. Greene, meanwhile, pressing forward to complete his victory, brought up his artillery against the house. But the weight of metal was too small for his object, the pieces were brought unhappily too closely within the range of the building, and the artillerists were swept down before the incessant fire of its musketry. Seizing this moment to charge and trample down the Auiericaiis, who had so rashly scattered themselves among the British tents. Coffin wilh his cavalry from one side, and Majoribanks with his light troops from the other, hurried forward. Eggleston, with a portion of the legion cavalry, vainly opposed him- self to this movement. Coffin pressed forward, and the half inebriate .soldiers would have been massacred to a man, but for the timely arrival of Hampton, who had succeeded to the command of Washington's horse. He drove back the British cavalry, but the pursuit brought him within the range of the fire of Majoribanks. under which his troop was again broken and repulsed. As they retired to the woods. Majoribanks seized the moment to snatch the two piece.s of American artillery from the field, where it had beeo Vol. I. 9 G 98 NATHANIEL GREENE. »- brought forward to batter the house. Dragging this trophy off in triumph, he was not diverted from the more sub- stantial service of scattering and destroying the Americans, who still lingered among the tents. Under these auspices, the British line was formed anew, and put in order of battle. Greene rallied his forces in the wood. The battle was not renewed.* It was only not a victory. The ad- vantages all lay with the Americans. In a few hours, the British decamped for Charleston. Seventy of their wounded were left to the care of Greene, who made five hundred pri- soners. Stewart destroyed his stores, his surplus materiel of all kinds, and succeeded, though at great cost of life, in eluding the pursuit of Marion and Lee, who hung upon his rear, and harassed his retreat. Greene's losses were severe. The battle had been fought in one of the hottest days in September, and his weary and wounded soldiers, thirsting for water, plunged headlong into a neighbouring pond which was soon turbid with their blood. At no time adequately supplied with men and muni- tions, Greene found himself at this moment much more feeble than ever. Weary marches, inferior food, want of water, continued and arduous service, a sickly climate, with the intense heat of the season, rendered repose absolutely essential to safety. He could achieve nothing, could at- tempt nothing. Reinforcements from Virginia and Maryland were cut off, in consequence of the call for troops in those states, rendered pressingly necessary by the presence of Cornwallis. The months of September and October wore away slowly without bringing help or encourage- ment. The British army, more than two thousand in number, posted near Nelson's Ferry, were plundering the country through their light armed troops. Against these, the American general could only operate through the par- tisan generals, whose troops generally lessened in number, as the militiamen were required to superintend the gathei" big of thtir harvests. To tend the fields and fight the BRITISH RETREAT TO CHARLESTON. 99 enemy was the twofold duty of a class of troops, whom it has been the too frequent habit to disparage. On the Qih November, Cornwallis surrendered at York- town, and this event brought reinforcements to the army of the south. Greene instantly proceeded to put his troops in motion. They had lost no heart by their sufferings — had learned, on the contrary, to feel their strength, and to estimate, without exaggeration, that of the invader. The latter had suffered in morale^ after the affair of the Eutaws. Their cavalry no longer waited for that of the Americans; and, though still inferior in numbers to the British force, Greene determined to attcinpi his post at Dorchester by surprise. His approach was communicated to its com- mander in season to enable him to draw in his detach- ments, destroy his stores, and retreat to Charleston. By a corresponding movement, Stewart fell back from Goose creek, upon the same point. The manceuvres, by which these results were {)roduced, would require details which our space will not allow. Enough that Washington, speaking of Greene, remarks of them as affording << another proof of the singular abilities which that officer possesses." The Americans were gradually contracting the limits of their enemies. The cordon militaire grew daily more and more rigid. Marion and Lee guarded the district lying between the rivers Cooper and Ashley, the communication being kept open by Hampton of the state cavalry ; and the activity of these commands soon cooped up the British within the immediate precincts of Charleston and its tri- butary islands along the sea. Within these limits, looking daily for assault, they proceeded to arm the negroes — a desperate measure which declared equally their feeble- ness and fears. • . Greene, unhappily, was not prepared to attempt either assault or siege. The leaguer of a walled city was beyond his numbers and artillery. He had neither tents, nor am- munition, nor axes, nor kettles, nor canteens, except In 100 NATHANIEL GREENE. such small quantity as better to display his deficienciea than his possessions. Meanwhile advices reached him of a British fleet from Ireland with three thousand troops on board, witliin two days' sail of Charleston. Reinforce ments were also reported to be on their way from New York. These were alarming tidings. Fortunately, they were grossly exaggerated. Sixty ariillerists from Ireland, a couple of regiments, and a hundred and fifty dismounted dragoons from New York, was the total of the increase of British force in Charleston. But the anxiety of Greene, while in (he belief that the report was true, kept him in constant activity and exercise. Supplies, which had been promised months before, had failed to come ; troops under St. Clair an(i Wayne, which, a year before, had been or- dered to his assistance, had not yet shown themselves; and the prospect that presented itself to the American com- mander in the south, was that of the loss of all that he had gained, and a second painful retreat such as he had been compelled to make when Cornwallis pursued him to the Dan. But though mortified, doubtful, and apprehensive, Greene had lost no nerve in considering his melancholy prospects. His soul was rather strengthened than subdued by what he saw before him. His resolution, deliberately taken, was "to fight, and fight hard, too, so that, if beaten, the wounds of his enemy should at least prevent his pur- suit." The more agreeable news, which showed the exaggera- tion of former tidings, encouraged the American general to newer enterprises. To complete the recovery of the country around Charleston, nothing remained but to drive the enemy from the position which they held upon John's Island. To Lee and Laurens- it was entrusted to effect this object, by an attack conducted' in the night. But the at- tempt was only partially successful. One of the columns lost its way. But the scare was enough. Apprized of the attempt, and anticipating its renewal, the British post was COMPLIMENT TO GREENE, 101 withdrawn to the city. With the exception of Charleston, the whole of South Carolina was once more in possession of 'ts people. The campaign of 1781 closed, leaving it so. The assembly of the state was called together, at the opening of 1782, at the little village of Jacksonborough, on the Edisto, and within striking distance of the British. In the assembly, the governor paid a high compliment to the "great and gallant General Greene — his wisdom, pru- dence, address and bravery" — to which the assembly with one voice responded. The senate voted him an address of thanks for "the distinguished zeal and generalship which he had displayed on every occasion" — and the house of representatives rendered the acknowledgment more memorable and emphatic, by vesting in him "ten thousand guineas." These compliments and this appro priation were of grateful and large importance to his feel- ings and his interests. He had been bitterly reviled by slan- derous tongues, and his private resources were exhausted. The improved prospect of the war did not lead to any relaxation of the vigilance of the American general. He projected a night attack upon Charleston, by floating down the Ashley ; but the scheme was reluctantly abandoned as impracticable. The winter wore away in quiet, broken only by the occasional appearance of small parties from the city, who seldom lingered to be embraced. Towards the opening of spring, there was bustle in the enemy's lines denoting movement. Little did Greene anticipate their present schemes, or the hopes upon which they were grounded. They were fortunately discovered in season. Failing to conquer in the field, the British had resorted to a similar agency with that which was to have given West Point to their keeping. There was discontent in the Ame- rican camp of which they availed themselves. The Penn- sylvania line, which was already notorious for revolt, had joined the army, and the ancient spirit revived in a new form. Some of the old mutineers were ready to sell the 9* 102 NATHANIEL GREENE. army and their commander to the British general. The day was appointed, the snares laid, and the British troops were set in motion agreeable to the plan of action. But the fidelity of a woman defeated the treacherous scheme. Gornell, a Serjeant, was hung as the principal traitor, while four others were sent in chains into the interior, and there kept safe from farther mischief Twelve other conspira- tors deserted to the enemy the night of Gornell's arrest. This bold conspiracy, thus crushed in the moment of performance, put the finishing blow to the hopes of the British. As Greene drew nearer to the metropolis. Gene- ral Leslie, commanding in Charleston, proffered a cessa- tion of hostilities, in view of an approaching peace ; but, though unable to decide upon a proposition which wholly lay with Congress, Greene saw that the war was virtually at an end. The summer was passed in inactivity, but with no relaxation of vigilance. In July, the camp of the Americans was within sixteen miles of Charleston. The garrison grew straitened for provisions, and the at- tempts to supply them resulted in a skirmish in which the gallant Laurens, the Bayard of the American army, was killed. This was the closing event in the bloody struggle. The evacuation of Charleston followed, of which place Greene took possession on the 14th December, making a triumphant entry, under a mixed civil and military escort, and with the governor by his side. The war was over. The southern army was dissolved, though not before some unpleasant controversies had arisen between the civil and the military arm within the state of South Carolina, in which Greene took the part of the soldiery, but without losing the affections of the people. The last days of his public c areer were consumed in cares and anxieties. Imprudently, he became security for an army contractor, whicii involved him in pecuniary loss and difficulty, by which the closing hours of his life were embittered. Yiehiing his command, ne returned to Newport, where he first began to discover GREENE REMOVES TO GEORGIA. 103 alarming symptoms of suffering and debility. His private affairs called him to Charleston. Banks, the man by whose obligations he had been ruined, and whom it was im- portant he should see, fled at his approach. Greene pur- sued him on horseback for more than four hundred miles over routes which he had frequently traversed at the head of his army. He overtook the fugitive only to see him die. The miserable man had fled from the city with a mortal fever in his veins. He had fled from his creditor to find security in death. The event was fatal to Greene's fortunes. He was forced to sacrifice his estates in Caro- lina for half their value. His friends counselled an appeal to Congress which he offered in a memorial entreating indemnity in case of final loss. It does not appear that the application was successful. , Meanwhile, he removed to Georgia, establishing himself on a plantation, at Mulberry Grove, on the Savannah. He had scarcely done so, when he was challenged by Captain Gunn, of the army, who deemed himself wronged by a decision, in regard to the taking and capture of a h.orse, which Greene had made, while his superior officer. Greene declined the meeting, refusing to sanction, by his example, a proceeding which would be fatal to all dis- cipline and all subordination among the several grades of an army. He consulted the opinion of Washington, who justified his course. The peace and repose afforded by plantation life, so different from the turmoil and strife of the preceding eio-ht years, were productive of the nappiest effects upon the mind of Greene. He possessed a lively sympathy with the aspects of the natural world, — rejoiced in the songs of birds, and the sight of flowers, — the peace and glory of the woods, and the growth of plants and fruits. An un- happy exposure to the intense fervor of a southern sun, shoot- ing its piercing arrows amid the humid atmosphere which overhangs the fertile but rank and unwholesome limits of 104 NATHANIEL GREENE. the hce region, put a fatal termination to this brief period of enjoyment and repose. He sank under the pestilential influence, on the 19th June, 1786, in spite of the most assiduous care, and the best ability of his medical attend- ants. The melancholy event called forth the lamentations of the country. The people of Georgia and Carolina as- sisted at his burial with the profoundest demonstrations of respect and grief. He was in the prime of manhood, — but forty-four years of age, — when he was thus suddenly snatched from his country and friends. His reputation, great at the time, has since been constantly on the rise. His moral character and genius were not unlike those of Washington. He was a man of method, industry, of calm, equable temper, — capable of bearing reverses without complaint, and of enjoying victory without exultation. He was a wise man, who could think in advance of the exigency, and thus provide against it; — a brave man, who could not be forced to fight, except when he thought proper; — a good man, against whom no reproaches sur- vive ; — a great man, who served his country with success and fidelity, and has not yet received his proper acknow- ledgment at her hands. ANTHONY WAYNE. Anthony Wayne was born on the 1st of January, 1745, in the township of Easttown, Chester county, in the state of Pennsylvania. His father, Isaac Wayne, was a native of Ireland — a country whose sons and their descendants have contributed largely to the pros- perity and honour of America. It is said that his early thoughts were tinged with a military feeling; and his exclusive devotion while at school to mathematical science, and afterwards to engineering, was the result of his desire, at some future day, to adopt the army as his profession. The occupation of Mr, Wayne, from the time of his marriage, in 1767, to th'fe year 1774, was that of a farmer, and land-surveyor, in his native county. He was elected a member of the Pennsylvania legislature, of 1774-5 ; and in the summer of 1775, was a mem- ber of the Committee of Public Safety. The approach ing contest revived the strong inclination of his earlier years ; and he began a course of military study, the aid of which he was soon called upon to bring to the service of his country. Having resigned his seat in the legislature, he raised, in September, 1775, a regi- ment of volunteers; and on the 3d of January, 1776, received from Congress the commission of colonel of one of the regiments to be raised for Pennsylvania. His popularity enabled him speedily to raise his legi- men*, and at the opening of the campaign of 1776, he was ordered with it to New York, and from thence to Canada. Under the command of the unfortunate General Sullivan, his regiment joined the expedition to 105 106 ANTHONY WAYNE. Canada which was defeated at Three Rivers. Great distinction was the result of Colonel Wayne's good conduct on this occasion, and he received a wound in the course of his successful efforts to effect the retreat of the troops, who were, after the evacuation of Canada, con- centrated at Ticonderoga, the care of which was com- mitted to him by Gen. Schuyler. On the 21st of Feb- ruary, 1777, Congress appointed Colonel Wayne a brigadier-general, and in May of that year joined the army of Washington, in New Jersey, where in a short time his brigade exhibited the discipline and energy which so eminently, on future occasions, distinguished the Pennsylvania Line. The public testimonial of the commander-in-chief to "the large share of bravery and good conduct" of General Wayne, in driving the enemy from the state of New Jersey, was followed by his official report to Congress, in June, 1777, in which he repeated his approbation. The British army having left New York, and their destination having been ascer- tained. General Washington directed General Wayne to proceed to Chester, in Pennsylvania, to organize the militia force which were ordered to assemble there, while the commander-in-chief, with the whole army, proceeded to the neighbourhood of the Brandywine, where an action was fought on the 11th of September, 1777, in which, — though the day was against Ame- rica — the valour of many of the corps of her soldiers sustained her honour. The most conspicuous were the brigades of Wayne and Weedon, the third Virginia regiment commanded by Colonel Marshall, and the artillery commanded by Colonel Proctor of Pennsyl- vania. Though defeated, and inferior in numbers, the American army was not disheartened or broken, but advanced, on the 16th of September, to give the enemy battle near the Warren tavern on the Lancaster road; «.ad the action was actually begun by General Wayne, WAYNE DEMANDS A COURT OF INQUIRY. 107 who led the advance, Avith great resohition, when a sud- den and violent tempest, and a drenching rain, rendered it impossible for either army to maintain the contest, and they separated. The main body of the American army having retired up the Schuylkill, the division of General Wayne was directed by General Washington to move forward on the enemy, and if possible to cut oflf their baggage. He took a well-selected position, about a mile to the south of the Warren tavern ; but the neighbourhood being inha- bited by many traitors, his arrangements became known to the British, who marched to attack him on the night of the 20th September, and reached his encampment, through by-roads under the guidance of persons familiar with the country. About eleven o'clock at night, Major- General Gray assaulted the pickets, and drove them in at the point of the bayonet, and thus gave intimation of his near approach. The division, however, was quickly formed by its general, who was not unprepared for the occurrence ; and while its right gallantly sustained a fierce attack, a retreat was directed by the left, and the whole were again formed not far from the ground, on which the' action commenced. Very different accounts of this affair are given by the American and English writers; — the remarks made in the army on the subject of it induced GeneralWaynetodemandacourtof inquiry, which, after a careful investigation, were unanimously of opinion, " that he had done every thing to be expected from an active, brave, and vigilant officer," and " acquitted him with the highest honour." Philadelphia having fallen into the possession of General Howe, who encamped a considerable portion of his army at Germantown, the vigilance of the American com- mander-in-chief enabled him to ascertain that three of the enemy's regiments were detached to keep open the land communication with Chester, until the forts on Mud Island and Billingsport could be reduced, and the navigation 108 ANTHONY WAYNE. opened to the British fleet to move up the Delaware to the city, and that four other regiments were there stationed to do garrison duty, the idea of falling upon, and destroying the camp at Germanlown quickly suggested itself to his energetic mind, A careful reconnoitring of the enemy's position having been made, Washington moved to the attack on the 3d of October, 1777, at seven o'clock in the evening. The force employed was divided into two columns, of which Wayne's and Sullivan's divisions, and Conway's brigade formed the right, and took the Chestnut Hill road, Stirling's division following in reserve. Greene's and Stephen's divisions, with M'Dougall's brigade, and about fourteen hundred Maryland and New Jersey militia, formed the column of the left, and moved along the Old York and Limekiln roads ; while a division of Pennsyl- vania militia, under Armstrong, proceeded by the Ridge road. The plan of attack assigned the k-ft flank of the enemy's right wing to the troops under Wayne, Sullivan, and Conway ; those under Greene, Stephen, and M'Dou- gall, were to fall upon its right flank, while Armstrong was to assail the western portion of the British camp. Bravely and effectually was the duty committed to Wayne performed. The picket at Mount Airy was fiercely charged upon, and though reinforced by the fortieth regi- ment, and a battalion of light infantry, the position was carried, and the enemy driven more than two miles, and into the village of Germantown. No better account of his share of the engagement can be furnished than is given in his own letter, written on the 6th of October, de- scribing the battle. " Camp, near Pawling' s Mills, October 6th, 1777. " On the 4lh instant, at the dawn of day, we attacked General Howe's army at the upper end of Germantown ; the action soon became general, when we advanced on the enemy with charged bayonets ; they broke at first, without waiting to receive us, but soon formed again, THE BATTLb OF GERMANTOWN. 109 when a heavy and well-directed fire took place on each side. The enemy gave way, but being supported by the grenadiers retured to the charge. General Sullivan's di- vision and Conway's brigade were at this time engaged to the south of Gerraantown, whilst my division had the right wing of the enemy's army to encounter, on the north of the town ; two-thirds of our army being too far to the north to afford us any assistance. However, the unparal- leled bravery of our troops surmounted every difficulty, and obliged the enemy to break and run in the utmost confusion. Our people, remembering the action of the night of the 20th of September, pushed on with their bayonets, and took ample vengeance for that night's work. Our officers exerted themselves to save many of the poor wretches who were crying for mercy, but to little purpose ; the rage and fury of the soldiers were not to be restrained for some time — at least, not until great numbers of the enemy fell by their bayonets. The fog, together with the smoke occasioned by our cannon and musketry, made it almost as dark as night, and our people, mistaking each other for the enemy, frequently exchanged shots before they discovered their error. We had now pushed the enemy near three miles, and were in possession of their whole encampment, when a large body of troops were dis- covered advancing on our left flank, which being taken for the enemy, our men fell back, in defiance of every exertion of the officers to the contrary, and after retreating about two miles, they were discovered to be our own people, who were originally intended to attack the right wing of the enemy. The fog and this mistake prevented us from following a victory that in all human probability would have put an end to the American war. General Howe for some time could not persuade himself that we had run away from victory, but the fog clearing off", he ven- tured to follow us with a large body of his infantry, grena- diers, and light horse. At this time being in the rear, with Vol. I. 10 110 ANTHONY WAYNE. the view of collecting the stragglers of our retreating army, and lin(ii\ig the enemy deternnneci to push us hard, drew up in order of battle and awaited their approach. When they advanced sulliciently near, we gave them a few can- non shot. Not being pleased with this reception, oui pursuers broke and retired — thus ended the action of that day, which continued from daylight until near 10 o'clock. I had tbrgot to mention that my roan horse was killed under me, within a few yards of the enemy's front, and my lefl foot a little bruised by a spent ball, but not so much so as to })revent me from walking. My poor horse received one musket ball in the breast and one in the dank, at the same instant that I had a slight touch on *iy left hand, which is scarcely worth noticing. " Upon the whole it was a glorious day. Our men are in high spirits, and I am confident we shall give them a total defeat the next action, which is at no great distance " My best love and wishes to all friends. *' Anthony Wayne." It is not one of the objects of the present sketch to dis- cuss the causes which turned the tide of victory, and ren- dered a retreat necessary ; — they were various, and confu- sion and dilhculty is encountered in estimating them. But, it was the good fortune of General Wayne to cover the retreat, and to save a portion of the greatly fatigued troops from capture by the enemy. The tire of a battery es- tablished by him, on a rising ground, near Whitemarsh church, was so ellective, that it obliged the pursuing troops to retire, and give up further pursuit. The privations and misery endured by the American army, during the winter of 1777, at Valley Forge, can hardly at this distant time be realized. It was exposed to dissolution from almost actual starvation ; and a large por- tion of it was unable to tlo tluty, being so nearly naked as to be obliged to keep in the huts, which were constructed WAYNE OBTAINS SUPPLIES. Ill as protection against, the severity of the weather. T'na commissariat alone was unable to afford relief to such a state of destitution, and recourse was had by the com- mander-in-chief to military forage over an extent of coun- try surrounding his position. As this could not last, however, it became necessary to obtain supplies from a greater distance, and to combine with the operation that of preventing the enemy from converting to his own use the subsistence so much wanted by the continental army. General Wayne was assigned to this duty, which was commenced about the middle of February, in very severe weather, and carried into complete effect, in the district of country extending from Bordentown to Salem, in New Jersey, then within the lines of the enemy. Some hundreds of fat cattle, many excellent horses for the cavalry, and a great quantity of forage, were the fruits of this most opportune expedition, which returned to camp in less than a month ; not, however, without some serious encounters with the enemy, in which the bravery of << the line," at a distance from any support from the main array, well seconded the energetic and rapid dispositions of its general. The relief afforded to the suffering at camp was of the most important character. General Howe, after spending the winter of 1777-S in Philadelphia, in a state of extraordinary inactivity, re- signed the command of the British army, and was suc- ceeded by Sir Henry Clinton, who arrived there early in June, 1778, and, in obedience to a positive order, imme- diately began to evacuate the city. For some time doubts were entertained as to the course of the enemy's retreat ; but, so soon as it was ascertained that it was through New Jersey, to reach New York, the American army was put in motion, and, having crossed the Delaware at Coryell's ferry, moved on towards Cranberry in pursuit of him. Morgan's corps, and detachments under Generals Maxwell, Scott, and Cadwalader, were pushed forward to harass the 112 ANTHONY WAYNE. rear of the retreating force. On the 17th June, a council of war wns held, ar'l, of the seventeen general officers present, Wayne and Cadwalader alone were for batlle, to which opinion Lafayette inclined. The council was again convened on the 24ih June, but their opinion was not substantially different from that given on the 17th. Wayne, however, — Cadwalader being absent, — dissented, and re- tained his first opinion. On the 25th June, it was ascertained that Clinton had taken the Monmouth road to New York, and Washington, whose anxious inclination to engage the enemy derived support from the opinion of Wayne, resolved to do so on his ow^n responsibility. To carry his views into effect. General Wayne was directed to join the detachments already made ; and the whole force, thus increased to four thousand men, becoming a major-general's command, was placed under the orders of Lafayette, with directions "to lose no favourable opportunity of attacking the enemy's rear." Proceeding at once to execute the orders, La- fayette, on the 26th June, took a position on the Monmouth road, in the rear of the British camp, from which he was distant about five miles ; but, as the main body of the American army was not yet sufficiently advanced to support him, his corps moved back to Englishlown, on the 27lh, and Lee's division formed a junction with it, the com- mand of the whole devolving on him, as the senior major- general. The British army began to move, about day- break, on the 28th, and Lee was ordered by Washington to advance, and fall upon its rear, " unless prevented by powerful reasons ;" and assurance was given him that he would be supported by the main body of the army. The error of Lee, in supposing that the British rear guard was but about two thousand men, led him to order Wayne to advance upon them, with seven hundred men, and two pieces of artillery, while he endeavoured to gain their front, and cut them off" from the main army. His decep- BATTLE OF MONMOUTH. 113 tion was only removed by his personal reconnoissance of the enemy's force, which revealed to him the fact that he was advancing upon, and was within striking distance of ;heir main body. Sir Henry Clinion had ascertained that there was an increasing force hanging on his rear, and, fearful that an attack might be made upon the baggage and provision train, reversed the order of march which he had heretofore observed, and, having sent Knyphausen to the front with them, collected the flower of his army in the rear. His object was soon developed, — upon the advance of Lee from the heights of P>eehold, Clinton suddenly turned upon him, intending to crush him before he could be supported by Washington. A severe action was the result of the movement, which was repulsed by the steadi- ness and good conduct of the troops of Wayne, who, being unsupported, were obliged to fall back upon the rest of Lee's corps, then, by that officer's order, in full retreat. Difficulty was experienced in joining them, when the arrival of the commander-in-chief, with reinforcements, changed the face of afiairs, and extricated Lee. A severe action immediately took place between the two armies, which ended in the discomfiture and retreat of the Bri- tish. The best concise account we have seen of the part General Wayne bore in it, is in the following character- istic letter. Spottswood, July \st, 1847. " On Sunday, the 28th of June, our flying army came m view of the enemy, about eight o'clock in the morning, when I was ordered to advance and attack them with a few men, the remainder of the corps, under General Lee, was to have supported me ; we accordingly advanced, and received a charge from the British horse and infantry, which was soon repulsed. Our general, however, thought proper to order a retreat, in place of advancing, without firing a single shot, the enemy following in force, which len- dered u very difficult for the small force I had to gain the 10* H 114 ANTHONY WAYNE. main body, being hard pushed and frequently nearly s\ir« rounded. After falling back almost a mile, we met his excellency, who, surprised at our retreat, knowing that officers as well as men were in high spirits, and wished for nothing more than to be faced about and meet the British fire, accordingly ordered me to keep post where he met us, having a body of troops wiih two pieces of artillery then under my command, and to keep the enemy in play until he had an opportunity of forming the main army and restoring order. " We had just taken post, when the enemy began their attack, with horse, foot, and artillery; the fire of their united force obliged us, after a severe conflict, to give way ; after which a most severe cannonade, accompanied by small arms, was opened by our left wing on the enemy, which gave them an etl'ectual check. During the interval, which this occasioned, every possible exertion was made use of by his excellency and the other generals to spirit up the troops, and prepare them for another trial. " The enemy began to advance again in a heavy column, with the view of turning our left tlank, but in this they failed. They then made a similar effort on our right, and, whilst our artillery was handsomely playing on them, I advanced with a strong body of troops, — we met the enemy, — the contest was exceedingly warm and well maintained on each side for a considerable timf> , at length victory declared for us; British courage failed, and was forced to give way to American valour. " After retreating some considerable distance, the ene- my took a strong position. General Washington, although many of our men were falling with thirst, heat, and fatigue, resolved to renew the acnon, and made his disposition for that purpose, but night prevented their final execution. " We encamped on the field of battle, with a view ol recommencing the action in the morning ; but Sn- Henry deemed U prudent to evade this, by retreating in the dead Washington's opinion of waynf. 115 of night; after having interred many of his killed, yet leaving us to bury some of his distinguished officers, and two hundred and forty-five of his soldiers, oesides taking charge of a great number of his wounded. Our loss in this affair consists of a few gallant officers killed and wounded, and many brave soldiers in a similar state. " Every general and other o'licer (one excepted did every thing that could be expected on this great occasion, but Pennsylvania shpwed the road o victory. " Anthony Wayne." Great credit and honour was accorded to Genpral Wayne for his conduct on the occasion, by the coun'ry and the army; and the commander-in-chief in his official report to Congress, said, "The catalogue of those who dis- tinguished themselves is too long to admit of particular- izing individuals. I cannot, however, forbear to men- tion Brigadier-General Wayne, whose good conduct and bravery throughout the action deserves particular commen- dation." We approach the most brilliant incident of the "hot, bloody trial" of the revolution — the storming of Stony Point. It was an enterprise peculiarly suited to " Penn- sylvania's General," and the manner of its execution and success do credit to the selection made by the commander- in-chief for the service. Stony Point was a strong post on the Hudson, which commanded King's Ferry, the usual communication between the Eastern and Middle States, and was of great importance to the enemy should they de- sire to strike at the posts on the Highlands. It was strongly fortified, was protected by the river on two sides, by a deep morass on a third, which the tide overflowed, two rows of abatis surrounded the hill, and breastworks and artillery rendered the summit, in the opinion of its defender?, impregnable. The garrison consisted of six 116 ANTHONY WAYNE. hundred infantry, commanded by Lieutenant-Colonel Johnston. On the l5tli*July, 1779, the troops were put in motion at Sandy Beach, about fourteen miles from the post to be attacked, and arrived near it at eight o'clock in the even- ing. They were formed into two columns as they came up. Febiger's and Meigs' regiments and HulTs detach- ment formed the right column, and the left consisted of Butler's regiment, and Major Murfree's two companies. The van of the right column was composed of one hundred anil fifty volunteers under the command of Lieutenant-Co- lonel Fleury; that of the left of one hundred volunteers, under the command of Major Stewart — they were pre- ceded by two forlorn hopes of twenty men each, led by Lieutenant Gibbon of the sixth, and Lieutenant Knox of the ninth Pennsylvania regiments. The assault was to have taken place at midnight, on each flank of the works, but the nature of the ground retarded the approaches until twenty minutes after twelve o'clock, when it began. The advanced parties rushed forward with fixed bayonets and unloaded arms; and the general, placing himself at the head of Febiger's regiment, gave the troops the most pointed orders to place their whole reliance on the bayo- net ; and he was literally and faithfully obeyed. " Neither the deep morass, the formidable and double rows of abaiisj nor the high and strong works in front, could damp the ardour of the troops, who, under a most tremendous fire of shells, grape, and musketry, forced their way with such unity of movement, that both columns met in the centre of the works at the same instant." Such was the celerity of the attack, that the assailants lost but about one hundred men killed and wounded, though the forlorn hoj^e of Lieutenant Gibbon had seventeen men killed and wounded of the twenty of which it consisted. In this attack, the ge- neral received a wounil in the head, not serious in its con- sequences, but which caused him to fall at tiie moment — RESOLUTION OF THANKS. 117 determined, if it were mortal, to die in the fort, he conti- nued at the head of the column, supported by his aids, Captain Fishbourne and Mr. Archer, and entered the works with the troops. The public and private demonstrations of the sense en- tertained of this most distinguished achieven)enr, by the nation and illustrious individuals, were numerous and o^ra- tifying to the sensibility of one so high minded as General Wayne. The unanimous resolve of Congress, " presenting thanks to General Wayne for his brave, prudent, and sol- dierlike conduct, in the well-conducted attack on Stony Point," was followed by that of the General Assembly of Pennsylvania, who resolved, unanimously, "that the thanks of this House be given to General Wayne, and the officers and soldiers of the Pennsylvania line, for the cou- rage and conduct displayed by them in the attack on Stony Point, and the honour they have reflected on the state to which they belong," &c. The congratulatory letters re- ceived from the general officers of the army, and his friends in civil life, were warm and laudatory — not the least so was that of General Charles Lee, of whom, only six months before. General Wayne had demanded satisfaction for the severe strictures he had made on his testimony before the court-martial which followed the battle of Monmouth. Bergen Neck, in New Jersey, between the Hudson and the Hackensac, had been selected by the refugees as the place for an establishment from which an organized banditti could at all times lay the surrounding country under contribution. They had constructed a very strong blockhouse, well furnished with the means of defence, and a numerous garrison, whence they issued to steal cattle, and plunder the inhabitants. The necessity of breaking up such a dangerous horde was imperious; and, on the 20th of July, 1780, General Wayne was de- tached, with a competent force, to effect the object. His 118 ANTHONY WAYNE own report of the affair exhibits the result so well, that it 19 Inserted entire. ^'Totoway, 22d July, 1780. " Dear General, — In pursuance of the plan which your excellency was pleased to approve, the first and second Pennsylvania brigades, with four pieces of artillery, took up the line of march the 20th, at three o'clock, p. M., and arrived a little in rear of New Bridge at nine in the even- ing. We moved again at one in the morning, in order to occupy the ground in the vicinity of Fort Lee, and the landing opposite King's Bridge, by the dawn of day, agreeably to the enclosed order. We advanced towards Bull's Ferry, General Irvine, with part of his brigade, along the summit of the mountain, and the first brigade, under Colonel Humpton, with the artillery and Colonel Moylan's horse, on the open road. About ten o'clock the first brigade reached that place. Colonel Moylan, with the horse and a detachment of infantry, remained at the forks of the road leading to Bergen and Powle's Hook, to receive the enemy if they attempted any thing from that quarter. On reconnoitring the enemy's post at Bull's Ferry, we found it to consist of a blockhouse, surrounded by an abatis and stockade to the perpendicular rocks next North river, with a kind of ditch or parapet serving as a covered way. By this time we could discover a move of troops on York Island, which circumstance began to open a prospect of our plan taking the wished effect. General Irvine was therefore directed to halt in a position from which he could move to any point where the enemy should attempt to land, either in the vicinity of this post or Fort Lee, where the sixth and seventh Pennsylvania regiments were previously concealed, with orders to meet the enemy, and, after landing, with the point of the bayonet to dispute the pass in the gorge of the mountain, at every expense of blood, until supported by General Irvine and Wayne's letter to Washington. 119 the remainder of the troops. The first regiment was posted m a hollow way on the north of the hlockhouse, and the tenth in a hollow on the south, with orders to keep up an incessant fire into the portholes, to favour the advance of the artillery covered by the second regiment. When the four field pieces belonging to Colonel Proctor's regiment arrived at the medium distance of sixty yards, they com- menced a fire which continued without intermission from eleven until quarter after twelve, at which time we re- ceived expresses from Closter, that the enemy were em- barking their troops at Phillips', and falling down the river. We also saw many vessels and boats, full of troops, moving up from New York, which made it necessary to relinquish the lesser ; — i. e. drawing the enemy over to- wards the posts already mentioned, and deciding the for- tune of the day in the defiles, through which they must pass before they could gain possession of the strong ground^ '< In the mean time, we found that our artillery had made but little impression, although well and gallantly served, not being of sufficient weight of metal to traverse the logs of the blockhouse. As soon as the troops understood that they were to be drawn off, such was the enthusiastic bravery of all officers and men, that the first regiment, nc longer capable of restraint, rather than leave a fort in theij rear, rushed with impetuosity over the abatis, and ad vanced to the palisades, from which they were with diffi culty withdrawn, although they had no means of forcing an entry : the contagion spread to the second, and by great elforts of the officers of both regiments, they were at length restrained, not without the loss of some gallant offi- cers wounded, and some brave men killed. Happy it was that the ground would not admit of a further advance of the tenth, and that the situation of General Irvine's brigade prevented them from experiencing a loss proportionate lo those immediately at the point of action, as the same gal- lant spirit pervaded the whole, which would have been 120 ANTHONY WAYNE. the means of frustrating our main object by encumoerini^ us with wounded. The artillery was immediately drawn off and forwarded towards the wished-for point of action; the killed and wounded were all moved on, excepting three that lay dead under the stockades. During this period Colonel Moylan's dragoons drove off the cattle and horses from Bergen, whilst a detachment of the infantry destroyed the sloops and wood boats at the landing, in which were taken a captain wilh a few sailors; some others were killed in attempting to escape by swimming. Having thus effected part of our plan, we pushed forward to oppose the troops from Voluntiue's hill, where we ex- pected to land at the nearest point to New Bridge, which, if effected, we were determined either to drive back the enemy, or cut our way through them ; but in the doing of either were disappointed. The enemy thought proper to remain in a less dangerous situation than that of the Jersey shore. We therefore passed on to New Bridge, and by easy degrees we have returned to this place. " Enclosed are copies of the orders of the 20lh, to« gether with a return of the killed and wounded, sixty-four in number, among whom are Lieutenants Crawford and Hammond of the first, and Lieutenant De Hart of the second ; the latter mortally wounded. " I cannot attempt to discriminate between officers, regi- ments and corps, who with equal opportunity would have acted with equal bravery. Should my conduct and that of the troops under my command meet your excellency's approbation, it will much alleviate the pain I experience in not being able to carry the whole of our plan into exe- cution, which, from appearance, could only have been pre- vented by the most malicious fortune. " I have the honour to be your excellency's most obe- vlient servant, << Anthony Wayne. "fli« Excellency, General Washington.'" BEVOLT OF THE PENNSYLVANIA LINE. 121 An important event, in the history of the army and the country, whose safety was in great danger, is next in order. The revolt of the " Pennsylvania line" Avas the result of a want of attention, on the part of the government, to the duties of punctuality and justice, and a disregard of com- plaints well founded, and eventually redressed. A braver or more raithful body of men than the troops of Pennsylvania never existed. I'hey had always, when present, to use the words oftheir general, " led the way to victory ;" but human nature could not withstand the complicated distresses, by which they were oppressed. The ready and resolute quellers of the mutiny of the Connecticut Ime, desperation drove them to become mutineers themselves. They were stationed at iMorristown, New Jersey, where, on the night of the 1st of January, 1781, the first symptoms of departure from duty were shown, which soon spread throughout the line, and set all control at defiance. With the exception of three regiments, the whole turned out under arms, under the charge of the noncommissioned officers. The commissioned officers endeavoured to repress the disorder, and to force the men to their duty, and several were wounded, and one. Captain Bitting, waskilled in the attempt. The influence of Wayne over them seemed to have given way before the misery they endured, and his exertions to bring them to terras were without success. A body of them, amounting to thirteen hundred, marched away from Morristown to Princeton, taking with them their arms and six fieldpieces. .Their conduct, however, was regular and peaceable — they committed no destruction of property, and they professed to be true to their country, and to have no object in view, but that of obtaining a redress of their grievances. A committee of Congress was sent to them ; and General Reed the President of Pennsylvania, and General Potter, were appointed by the council of that state, to bring about an accommodation with the mutineers, and finally succeeded, by redressing the just complaints of Vol. I. n 122 A N T H O N V W A Y N E. the soldiers. So soon as the revolt of the line was known to the British at New York, Sir Henry Clinton endea- voured to take advantage of it, and made ofTers to the sol diery of every thing which they thought themselves enti- tled to at the hands of their country ; but, as has been well said, '< their patience, but not their patriotism was exhausted." They refused to listen to the offers of the enemy, who put in motion a body of troops to receive and support them — offered to General Wayne to march under his orders to repel them — and seized upon two spies or emissaries seni by the British general with propositions, and delivered them to General Wayne, by whom they were handed over to a board of officers, who tried and con- demned them to death, a sentence which was speedily executed. Tranquillity was restored, and a general am- nesty terminated the unhappy affair. Early in the spring of 1781, the southern portion of the United States became the theatre of a devastating war, carried on by the army in Carolina, and detachments under Phillips, Lesley, and Arnold, who invaded Virginia, and extended their predatory excursions from the seaboard to the interior of the state, and captured the capital and many of the principal towns. To repel these incursions, General Washington, in the month of April, sent the Mar- quis de Lafayette with twelve hundred continental infantry, and soon after ordered Wayne with the Pennsylvania line, now reduced to about eleven hundred rank and file, to join them, which he did on the 7th of June. Lord Cornwallis, whose movements towards the force of La- fayette had created some uneasiness, fell back upon learning the junction of the two corps, and retreated to Richmond, and afterwards to Williamsburg, from whence, on the 5th of July, he reached Jamestown Ferry, and prepared to cross. Information was given on the 6th to Lafayette, who had hung on the rear of the retreating enemy, that »' the main body of the British army" had effected a nas- WAVNE AT YORK TOWN. 123 sage to the northern bank of the river, leaving only a rear guard of the ordinary force behind. The idea of annihi- lating this portion of the enemy's force, induced him to order General Wayne to attack it with about seven hun- dred men. In the execution of the order the pickets were driven in, and the assailants found themselves advancing not upon the rear guard, but upon the whole British army, already within less than a hundred paces, in order of battle, and extending their flanks to enclose him. To re- treat was the last resource that ever suggested itself to Wayne under any difficulty ; and his course was at once sagacious and energetic. He ordered a charge with the bayonet on the nearest body of the enemy, which was exe- cuted with the well known gallantry and vigour of "the line," and with such decisive effect: upon the enemy as to put a stop to his movements. Wayne immediately re- treated with great rapidity, and the whole proceeding had so much the appearance of a manoeuvre, that, impressed with the idea that the attack and retreat were intended to draw them into an ambuscade, the British made no at- tempt to pursue the troops, whose conduct on the occasion received great commendaiion, and the tribute of glory to their general was fully accorded. The enemy continued their retreat towards Portsmouth, from which they finally moved to Yorktown, rendered subsefjuently memorable in the annals of America, by die second surrender of a British army. Arrived at Yorktown, General Wayne was actively en- gaged in the duties of the investment and subsequent cap- ture of the post. On the 6th of October, 1781, the first parallel was opened by Generals Wayne and Clinton, with six regiments; and on the 11th, the second parallel was commenced by the Pennsylvania and Maryland troops, covered by two battalions under the command of General Wayne. The attacks on the two detached redoubts of the enemy, which were made on the 14th, a little after dark 124 ANTHONY WAYNE. by the Marquis de Lafayette, at the head of the American light infaiitry, and the French troops, under the Baron Vionienil, was supported by two battalions of the Pennsyl- vania line, under General Wayne ; and the second parallel was completed by detachments from it and the Maryland ine, under Colonel Walter Stewart. Yorktown was furrendered on the 17th of October, 1781, and the atten- tion of the country was turned to the enemy who held possession of the more southern portion of the Union. General Wayne was detached to the army of General Greene, the object being to receive his aid in bringing the state of Georgia within the authority of the con- federation. The means afforded him were exceedingly limited, being the remains — about one hundred — of Moy- lan's dragoons, some three hundred undisciplined Georgia militia, to which was subsequently added three hundred continentals, under Colonel Posey of the Virginia line. In little more than a month he had, by boldness, vigilance, and activity, driven the enemy from the interior of the state, defeated his Indian allies, who sought to succour him, and confined him almost entirely to Savannah. «' We are cooped up," says an intercepted letter, " within the town of Savannah, by about three hundred rebels, while we can muster twenty-five hundred men fit for duty." The efforts of General Wayne, in the ardous duties confided to him, were not confined to mere exertions in the field. He brought back to their allegiance many of the disaffected, — " Made," to use his own phrase, " Whigs out of Tories ;" and embodied them into two corps, and contrived to produce a spirit of discontent which extended to the British army itself. The British general in com- mand — Clark — applied at this period to the Creek and Choctaw tribes of Indians, and invited them, with success, to join him. Two bodies of these savages marched early in May for Savannah, and the latter had actually reached Us neighbourhood, where, owing to the foresight ant! WAVNE DEFEATS THE CREEKS. 125 adroitness of Wayne, they were made prisonerb". Two oi three of their chiefs were retained by hira as hostages^ but he permitted the rest to return home, with a very significant recommendation not again to take part in a war which was not their own, in aid of a power not able to protect them. On the 20th of May, 1782, General Clark ordered Colonel Brown to meet the approaching Creeks at Oge- chee, and accompany them into the city. This arrange- ment became known to Wayne on the same day ; and, certain that the combined party must pass a long and nar- row causeway over a swampy ground, he determined to strike it there. He reached the defile about twelve o'clock at night, and found the enemy already arrived. Without a moment's hesitation, and relying on the dark- ness to conceal the inadequacy of his force, which con- sisted of one section of dragoons and a company of infantry, he ordered an immediate charge on the enemy's column, which was made with " a vivacity and vigour, which, in a moment, and without burning a grain of pow- der, defeated and dispersed the whole of it." Colonel Douglass and forty men were killed, wounded, and taken in the action. The whole of the Creek force, however, was not in the engagement. Gueristasego, sometimes called Emitasago, with a strong party, amounting to five hundred warriors, had not arrived, on the 20th of May, at Ogechee ; and having escaped the disaster of Brown con- ceived the idea of revenging his defeat. He struck into the woods and swamps, and, on the 24th of May, had ap- proached the picket guard of Wayne's force, and, having slain the sentinel, reached, undiscovered, the light company of Lieutenant-Colonel Posey's corps, upon which so furious an attack was made that it was compelled to fall back a few paces ; and the artillery, for whose protection it had been stationed, was, for a moment, in the possession of the enemy. The corps, however, immediately rallied, and, with Captain Gunn's company of dragoons, advanced 11* 126 ANTHONY WAYNE. to the charge with such vigour, that the savages were en- tirely routed and dispersed, and their leader slain. The condict, for a short time, was severe ; but a free use of the bayonet and sabre proved the superior character of the troops of Wayne, whose military character was rather in- creased than diminished by tlie surprise, from which his promptness and coohioss recovered them. The hope of continuing the contest against America with success, was now abandoned by the Bri;ish cabinet, and orders were given to their troops to evacuate Georgia. The British garrison left Georgia on the litli ot July, 1782, and very soon afterwards the small force under Wayne was ordered by General Greene to Soiith Carolina. Charleston was soon after evacuated by the enemy, and on the 14th of December, was taken possession of by Wayne — his last military service during the war of the Revolution. In July, 17S3, after an absence of seven years. General Wayne returned to his native state, and to civil life. He was elected a member of the General Assembly, from Chester county, in 1784, and served for two sessions, taking a deep interest in all the measures of importance of the day. His time was much occupied with domestic concerns, arising out of the grant to him of a landed donation by the state of Georgia; an unfortunate gift, by which he was in- volved in great embarrassments, from which he was only lelieved by parting with it at a sacrifice. The call of his country again reached him — an arduous service was required at his hands, and he was ready. In the month of April, 1792, General Wayne was nominated by President Washington, to the command of the array of the United States. The particidar object of tliis appoint- ment arose from the refusal of some of the Indian tribes, ihe allies of England, to cease hostilities, when the treaty of peace of 1783 was made between the United States and that power. The treaty, indeed, did not extend to WAYNE MADE COMMANDER-IN-CHIEF. 127 the tribes, and their hostilities between 1783 and 1791, produced an immense loss of life and suffering to the American settlements on the Ohio. Attempts were made, by all pacific means, to terminate such a state of affairs, but without success, and in Septem- ber, 1791, recourse was had to force. General Harmar, with fifteen hundred men, of whom three hundred were regulars, entered the country of the Miami and Wabash tribes, and succeeded in accomplishing the object of the expedition. The Indian villages were burned, and their fruit trees and corn destroyed; but during the return home of the troops, some expeditions were planned, which were not attended with success; and though no fiult was found at the time, it has been usual, in latter times, to attribute want of success to an excellent officer, and (he expedition of 1790 has generally been termed << liarmar's defeat." The disastrous defeat of General St. Clair, on the 4th of November, 1791, increased the confidence of the savages, and vigorous and- effectual measures became necessary to restore peace and tranquillity to the frontier. President Washington had selected General Wayne, as the com- mander-in-chief of the army, from his knowledge of the prudence and military skill, as well as bravery which he possessed — he knew also that he was acquainted with the peculiar mode of warfare of the enemy he was to oppose. The army which was to be placed at his disposition, for this arduous service, was to be recruited, and, what was more important, disciplined. Many circumstances con- spired to retard the enlistment of the troops, and the ad- dition of drafts from the volunteers and militia of Ken- tucky, still left the force to be employed much less than the exigency required. Negotiation, which to savages has always the air of weakness and timidity, was tried without any other effect than that of producing an apparent tran- quillity, the precursor of the s'orm that was rising. It was soon found that negotiation was useless, and the orders w-hicn 12S ANTHONY WAYNE restrained General Wayne from oflfensive operations during its progress, were withdrawn, and about the 1st September, 1793, he formed an encampment on the banks of the Ohio river, between Mill Creek and the then village of Cincin- nati, where the troops were subjected to a steady and careful drill, adapted to the peculiar service they were about to encounter. Having in October taken up its line of march, in an order which was very difTerent from that pursueil m traversmg an inhabited, cultivated country, but which enabled it to avoid surprise, and to be formed in line of battle immediately, the army arrived at the site chosen by General Wayne for his vvin:er quarters, on one of the streams of the Stillwater branch of the Big Miami river. The encampment was called " Greeneville," a name which the stream on which it was laid out still retains. So soon as his camp was properly fortified, General Wayne turned his attention to the organization and military instruction of his troops, and remained till near midsummer of 1794 in his quarters, and then, upon the arrival of a body of mounted volunteers from Kentucky, marched into the In dian country to chastise the tribes and their British allies. Intelliijence was received that the savages were in force at the Rapids, where they had been joined by a body of the Detroit militia, and a detachment of the British army. The spot they chose on which to meet the American army, was an elevated plain, near the foot of the Rapids, where the ground, from the effect of a recent tornado, was much strewn with fallen timber, and therefore less practicable for cavalry. Previously to engaging them, General Wayne sent an address to the enemy which was conciliatory, but firm and positive ; the alternative was offered to them of war or peace. An evasive answer was returned, which the ex- perienced leader to whom it was addressed knew was in- tended to gain time, and treated it accordingly. The American army having erected a temporary work to protect their provisions and baggage, the enemy's posi- DEFEAT OF THE INDIANS. 129 tion was reconnoitrfd, and they were discovered encamped on Swan Creek, in ihe vicinity of a British fort, towards the foot of the Rapids. One reason for selecting the spot was, undoubtedly, the fact that this fort was a regular work, widi sufhcient artillery and a strong garrison, and had been recently constructed, contrary to the treaty wiih Great Britain, within the limits of the Uniied States. On the 20lh of August, the army was put in motion, a battalion of mounted volunteers, commanded by Major Price, forming the advance. This corps was attacked, after marching near five miles, and received so hot a fire from the enemy, who were concealed in the high grass and woods, as to compel it to fall back. The army was immediately formed by General Wayne in two lines, in a close thick wood, while the savages were drawn up in three lines, near enough to support each other, at right angles with the river, "I soon discovered," says the General, in his account of the engagement, written to General Knox, " from the weight of the fire, and extent of their lines, that the enemy were in full force in front, in possession of their flivourite ground, and endeavouring to turn our left Hank. 1 gave orders for the second line to ad- vance, and directed Major-General Scott to gain and turn the right flank of the savages, witli the mounted volunteers, by a circuituous route. At the same time I ordered the front line to advance with trailed arms, and rouse the Indians from their coverts at the point of the bayonet ; and when up, to deliver a close and well-directed fire on their backs, so as not to give time to load again. I also ordered Cap- tain Campbell, who commanded the legionary cavalry, to turn the left flank of the enemy, next the river, and which afforded a favourable field for that corps to act in. All these orders were obeyed with spirit and promptitude ; but such was the impetuosity of the charge of the first line of infantry, that the Indians and Canadian militia and volunteers were driven from their coverts in so snort a I 130 ANTHONY WAYNE. time, that, although every exertion was used by the ofHcers of the second line of ihe legion, and by Generals Scott, Todd, and Barbee, of the mounted volunteers, to gain their proper positions, yet but a part of each could get up in season to participate in the action, — the enemy being driven, in the course of one hour, more than two miles through the thick woods already mentioned, by less than one-half their numbers. From every account, the enemy amounted to two thousand combatants ; the troops actually engaged against them were short of nine hundred. This horde of savages, with their allies, abandoned themselves to flight, and dispersed, with terror and dismay, leaving our victorious army in full and quiet possession of the field of battle, which terminated under the influence of the British garrison, as you will observe by the enclosed cor- respondence between Major Campbell, the commandant, and myself." The correspondence referred to was sufficiently pungent m its tone ; and the British commander having taken oc- casion to give notice to General Wayne '< that his army, or individuals belonging to it, should not approach within reach of his cannon, without expecting the consequences attending it," the answer he received was, the immediate destruction by fire of every thing of any value wilhin view of the fort, and up to the very muzzles of the guns. The fort was carefully reconnoitred within pistol-shot, and it is easy to perceive, that nothing would have gratified the feelings of the successful soldier more than an act of hos- tility on the part of the British commandant which would have justified him in carrying the works by storm. This victory was followed by the treaty of Greeneville, the result of which was a long peace with the Indians, and a considerable accession of valuable territory to the United States ; and it accelerated Jay's treaty with Great Britain, by which the posts so unjustifiably held by thai power were sur- rendered. General Wayne did not, however, long enjoy the DEATH OF WAVNE. 131 honours which the nation and his native state were eager to bestow upon him. After a visit to Pennsylvania, he returned to the west to fulfil his duties as commissioner to treat with the north-western Indians, and to receive the surrender of the military posts yielded up by the British government ; and, while descending Lake Erie from De- troit, died from an attack of the gout, at Presqiie Isle, on the 1 5th of December, 1796, in the fifty-first year of his age. His remains were removed from *heir burial-place, on the shore of the lake, by his son, in the year 1809, and conveyed to the burial-ground of Radnor church, in Chester county, where the Pennsylvania Slate Society of the Cincinnati erected a monument to his memory, with the following inscriptions. The south front of the monument exhibits the following inscription . In honmir of the. disfms^inshed Military services of Major-General Anthony Wayne, And as an affectionate tribute Of respect to his memory, This stone was erected by his Companions in arms, The Pennsylvania State Society of The Cincinnati, July ith, A. D. 1809, Thirty-fourth anniversary of The Independence of The United States of America ,• An event which constitutes The most Appropriate eulogium of an American Soldier and Patriot. 132 ANTHONY WAYNE. The north front exhibits the following inscription ; Major-General Anthony Wayne Was born at Waynesborough, In Chester Comity, State of Pennsylvania, A. D. 1745. After a life of honour and usefulness. He died, in December, 1796, At a military post On the shores of Lake Erie, Commander-in-chief of the army of The United States. His military achievements Are consecrated In the history of his country. And in T7ie hearts of his countrymen. Kis remains ,mni nere cUjMjeuea, MAJOR-GENERAL ISRAEL PUTNAM. Israel Putnam was born at Salem, in the state of Mas- sachusetts, on the 7th day of January, 1718. He was a great-grandson of John Putnam, one of the Puritan Pil- grims, who came to this country under the banner of the ve- nerable Endicot. His father, Joseph Putnam, married Miss Elizabeth Porter, and had by her twelve children. lie was a farmer, and intended Israel for the same pursuit in life. At that time, none but persons selected for the libe- ral professions received any other than the education of common schools, in which the arts of reading and writing, and a slender proficiency in the rudiments of arithmetic, were the sole attainments to be acquired. In those good old days, a farmer was more desirous of leaving to his son an example of moral worth, habitual piety, and industrious habits, than heaps of gold, and restless aspirations for offices, for which his limited education in no wise fitted him. Such an example was the bequest of Captain Jo- seph Putnam to his son Israel, who was more indebted to nature for those endowments, and that undaunted cou- rage, active enterprise, and untiring zeal for the cause he espoused, than to any influences of early mental culture. His constitution was vigorous, and he displayed in the be- ginning of life that insensibility to danger, and that bold daring, w^hich subsequently signalized his name m the wars of his country. Of his school days Kttle is known. Here and there an incident has been preserved to prove these traits his own when still a boy, but our space forbids the recounting of them. In the year 1739, at the age of twenty-one, he married Miss Hannah Pope, daughter of Mr. John Pope Vol. I. 12 133 134 ISRAEL PUTNAM. of Salem, by whom he had four sons and six daughters. In 1740 he removed from his native place to the town of Pomfret, in Connecticut, where he settled upon a tract of land he had then lately purchased. The habits and modes of life of farmers then were simple and economi- cal, and enabled industry to secure its reward. Love of luxury and the artificial wants of the present day were unknown to the husbandman. His lands were well fenced and- carefully cultivated, and his pastures soon exhibited a respectable stock of cattle. Finding certain portions of his property well adapted to grazing, he turned his attention to the cultivation of sheep, and carried on a suc- cessful business in the sale of his wool. But he found, in common with his neighbours, that there were other ene- mies of his flocks than the stubborn winters of that region, and the natural diseases that sometimes thinned their numbers. Wolves prowled about the country, and com- mitted so many depredations that the farmers determined to act in concert to drive them off. It was discovered that a she-wolf was the formidable foe, and against her their united efforts were directed. The story of the pur- suit of this w^olf, and her subsequent capture and de- struction by Putnam, is too well known to require repeti- tion here. It exhibits the fearless daring of our hero, and gives promise of those acts which subsequently illus- trated his character and fame. During the years from 1740 to 1755, Putnam devoted his time and attention to his farm, and by a steady indus- try succeeded in securing to himself a handsome inde- pendence. During this period his benevolence, his frank and candid manners, his courage and integrity, had won for him the most unbounded confidence and esteem. Upon the breaking out of the war between England and France, known as " The Seven Years' War," he was intrusted, without any previous military experience, wdth the command of a company in the regiment of Connecticut Provincials Putnam's rangers. 135 He soon found his compliment of men, for his companions and friends willingly flocked to his standard, and they were the flower of the Connecticut yeomanry. It was true they had had no more experience in military matters than their captain ; but his known judgment and courage, and their reliance in him and willingness to obey his com- mands, secured discipline and made them of inestimable value in service. The regiment to which this company belonged was commanded by General Lyman, but so often was it de- tached on special and peculiar service that it operated more like an independent corps than a regular company of the regiment. The duty performed was that of rangers, although they were not drafted as such: but it was a duty well suited to the adventure-loving spirit of its captain, who would have pined under the dull routine of camp- service. In the active and perilous enterprises of rangers, in reconnoitering the enemy's camp, surprising their pick- ets and outposts, capturing detached parties and con- voys of supplies, he found himself in a sphere peculiarly suited to his talents, taste and genius. In this contest, wherein the English and French were disputing the mas- tery of the western continent, we find the Indian tribes, with few exceptions, enlisted on the side of the French. These allies were vexatious and dangerous foes. Fami- liar with the vast forests, plains, lakes and river banks of the country, accustomed to a wily and stealthy mode of warfare almost unknown to the English, who were also unacquainted with the country in which they were to fight their battles, these Indian tribes became formidable ene- mies. It required to oppose them men of ingenious, in- trepid and unflinching character. Captain Putnam was such a man, and his men were worthy their commander. The war commenced with vigour in 1755, with General Braddock's unfortunate expedition against Fort Duquesne, and General Shirley's similar expedition against Fort 136 ISRAEL PUTNAM. Niagara ; while on the other hand, Sir William Johnson achieved his brilliant victory over Baron Dieskau at Fort Edward. By the time these enterprises had been ended the season had drawn to a close, and the colonial troops having been enlisted only to serve during the campaign, were entitled to their discharge. Captain Putnam returned to his family. It was during this period that he became acquainted with Major Rogers, the celebrated New Hamp- shire partisan, whose life he preserved in a moment of extreme danger. Notwithstanding such an obligation, and their having been often detached upon the same duty, in his journal, subsequently published in London, (in 1765,) Major Rogers studiously avoids the mention of Putnam's name. The reason for such marked neglect of his com- panion in arms and the preserver of his life is not stated, but the mind naturally suggests envy or the fear of being himself eclipsed by his noble friend, as the natural and only cause ibr this unpardonable slight and such base in- gratitude. The campaign re-opened in 1756, when the commis- sion of Captain Putnam was renewed. But the general military operations were even less fortunate than those of the former year. The entire faihire of these campaigns must be ascribed to the inaction of the British generals who conducted them. The important fortress of Oswego fell into the hands of the French, nor was there a single attempt to dispossess them of their outposts at Ticonde roga, so that all the expensive and laborious preparations of the British were wholly lost. Yet amid this inactivit] and misconduct on the part of the generals, the duties assigned to the rangers gave opportunities for personal ad- rentures that form a relief to the picture. Captain Putnam on one occasion was ordered to recon- noit^e the position of the enemy at the Ovens neai Ticon- deroga. He took with him his lieutenant, Robert Durkee, a gallant officer, who afterwards distinguished himself in BOLD ADVENTURES. 13T tbe revolutionary war. The two partisans proceeded to theii duty, but unacquainted with the French custom of setting camp-fires in the centre of the camp instead of in a circle around it, as the English did, they found themselves sud- denly in the midst of the enemy, who discovered their approach and immediately saluted them with a discharge of muskets. Durkee received a bullet in his thigh, but notwithstanding this, he was able to join in a precipitate retreat, in which he was very near being killed by his (riend. Putnam had fallen into a clay-pit, and Durkee came tumbling in after him ; when, supposing him one of the enemy, he raised his knife to stab him, but re- cognising his voice in time, sheathed it in his scabbard instead of his comrade's body. Amid a shower of bullets they succeeded in reaching a spot of safety, but when Putnam came to offer his canteen of brandy to his wounded companion he discovered that one of the enemy's balls had pierced and emptied it, and his blanket presented no less than fourteen bullet holes received during their escape. The bold spirit evinced by Captain Putnam in recaptur- ing the baggage and provisions, which had been intercepted at Halfway Brook, between Fort P^dward and Lake George, by six hundred of the enemy, exhibits more forcibly the character of the services rendered by him in this war than any other incident. When the news of the disaster was received, he and Rogers were ordered off in pursuit of the enemy. They took with them two wall-pieces and two blunderbusses, with about one hundred men in boats. Their intention was to proceed down the lake, thence to take a line across the land to the narrows, and thus cut off a retreat. They succeeded in reaching the sj)ot before the French with their batteaux, now laden with plunder, had gained it. Unexpectedly they opened a tremendous fire up->n them, killed many of the boatmen and sank several of the boats. The rest by a strong wind were swept into South Bay, and thus escaped, to bear the news to 12* loo ISRAEL rUTNAM. Ticonderoga. Anticipating their return \\ith roinfi)rcc- nu-nts, l\itn!un and Ko«;ors hastened to their boats, and at Sabbath-day Point thoy found their expectations had not deceived them, for the French, about three hundred strong, were fast iipproachiuo- on the lake. When the enemy, expecting an easy victory if not an immediate surrender, had come witliin pistol shot, the wall-pieces and blun- derbusses were unmasked anil opened upon them, aided by musketry, protlucing the most dreailful carnage, and leaving the further retreat of the rangers unmolested. By such services Putnam became generally known. His insensibility to danger, his caution and sagacity, his presence of mind and ingenuity of stratagem, which gave him power to command his resources at a moment when most needed, made him essential to the operations against the French and their allies. His cheerful spirit, and his readiness to share the hardships and ])erils of service with his soldiers ; his submission to all privations, and his willingness to lead in every adventure of danger, won the hearts of all his subalterns, while he secured by strict obedience to his superiors their esteem and contidence. Although such services were of inhnite importance to the protection and support of the cause, they were unfortu- nately rendered in a sphere, to which general history can allot no place. In 1757 the legislature of Connecticut conferred on Putnam a major's commission. At this time the Earl of Loudoun was at the head of the military forces of the colonies, and he proved himself one of the most inellicient and imbecile of the British generals who served in Ame- rica. Although the colonists with a generous eflbrt had supplied him with a numerous force, and enabled himj had he seen fit to avail himself of the means placed at his command, to oj)erate eilectively against the enemy, about midsummer he left the scene of action, and with about six tliousand troops sailed for Halifax, for the alleged RESCUE OF CAPTAIN LITTLE. 139 j)urpose of joining the reinforcement of five thousand troops brought out by Lord Howe, with which he intended to reduce Louisburg in Cape Breton. Learning how- ever that this place had obtained an augmentation to its garrison, he returned to New York, where he reposed in disgraceful idleness. He left in command at Fort Ed- ward the timid General Webb, and the unfortunate Colo- nel Monroe at Fort William Henry. The latter post was attacked by the French under the Marquis de Montcalm, and notwithstanding repeated entreaties from Colonel Monroe, General Webb refused to send reinforcements, and recommended him to surrender. The brave but de- voted Monroe at last yielded to the necessity of his de- fenceless position, and while leaving the fort his little band was attacked by the Indians and inhumanly slaugh- tered. At one time General Webb consented to allow a reinforcement of such of his garrison as would volunteer; but when Major Putnam's rangers offered to fly to the rescue, the imbecile general repented of his permission, and, amid expressions of indignation and grief on the part of this gallant band, had them recalled. Afterward Gene- ral Lyman was placed in command of Fort Edward, and immediately undertook the improvement of its defences. A small party under Captain Little was at work for this purpose on a tongue of land, bounded on one side by a morass, and on the other by a creek. Major Putnam also commanded a detachment, similarly engaged, on an island near by. A party of Indians had stealthily concealed themselves in the morass near Captain Little's station, and at an unsuspected moment attacked him. The alarm was given, and the labourers, deserting their work, fled towards the fort, where Captain Little by a close and well-timed discharge of musketry arrested the progress of the enemy. But his position became now embarrassing. General Lyman, instead of sending a reinforcement, cpjJed in his outposts, and closed the gates of the fort, 140 ISRAEL PUTNAM. leaving Captain Little and his small force to contend against fearful odds. Major Putnam learned the precari- ous situation of his friend. Leading his men onward tu his rescue he plunged into the creek, followed by his rangers who waded gallantly after him. They passed near enough to the fort to hear the commander's peremp- tory orders to return, but unwilling to have his friend sacrificed Putnam hurried on to his assistance, and soon drove the Indians back into the morass. Although this ■lisobedience to orders was unpardonable in mihtary dis- cipline, yet General Lyman never made mention of it, ashamed, as he probably was, of his dastardly conduct. The British arms were blessed with better fortune in almost every other quarter of the country, yet in the region of Lake George and Lake Champlain disaster still at- tended them. The appointment of Mr. Pitt to the ministry inspired new hopes and gave a better spirit to the people, and they were enabled during this season to supply, from Connecticut, Massachusetts and New Hampshire, a force of fifteen thousand men. General Abercromby was placed at the head of military affairs, and proposed to undertake expeditions against Louisburg, against Fort Duquesne, and against Ticonderoga ^and Crown Point. In this last expedition Major Putnam again exhibited those peculiar traits of strategy and foresight which had already secured to him a prominent position in the army. During the campaigns 1757 and 1758 he was ever called upon to command and execute the most difficult and hazardous enterprises ; and he seldom failed to add by his cool daring, presence of mind, and firmness, fresh laurels to those he had already won. At Woodcreek, near the point where it flows into South Bay, with fifty men he attacked a party of the enemy vastly superior in numbers, and by keeping his companions concealed behind a temporary parapet, succeeded in destroying many of them. In his retreat his party were mistaken by a reinforcement sent PRISONER AMONG THE INDIANS. 141 to his aid for the enemy and were fired upon, but Put- nam, springing forward, made them aware of their error, and reprimanded the detachment for" the little execution they had done undei the circumstances ! as only one man had been wounded. The expedition against Ticonderoga was undertaken in July. It was during the attack on this post, that Lord Howe fell. He was a young nobleman in the prime of life, of eminent virtue, and manly cou- rage, universally esteemed and beloved. His death was severely felt. The whole expedition was unsuccessful, and was attended with great loss to the English. Never was an enterprise so badly conducted or more unfortu- nate. During the summer. Major Putnam was surprised while lying in his batteau on the Hudson, near the rapids at Fort Miller, by a party of Indians who suddenly appeared on the shore. To land would have been certain death to the little party, which consisted of but five men. Putnam seemed at once to comprehend the danger of his position, and without a moment's deliberation put his batteau in motion, guiding it towards the rapids. The Indians stood amazed at his temerity, for it seemed certain destruction to descend the stream at this point. Calmly watching the current, Putnam with a firm hand guided his frail bark amid the rocks that every instant threatened to shatter it, and in a few moments it was seen ghding over the smooth waters below, much to the relief of his breathless com- panions, one of whom had of necessity been left behind and was killed by the Indians. This undertaking inspired the savages with awe, and for a time they believed Putnam to be favoured of the Great Spirit. In August of this year, however, his good fortune forsook him. In executing the perilous duty of watching the enemy at Ticonderoga, a detachment headed by the French parti- san Molang surprised him. He stood his ground manfully, but his fusee, while pressed to the breast of a powerful In- 142 ISRAEL PUTN\M. dian, having missed fire, he was taken prisoner and tiftd to a tree. Here he was forced to remain inactive, his victor having returned to the battle. After a long and warmly contested struggle, (during which he had been un- happily subjected to the cross-fire of both parties, tied as he was, halfway between the combatants,) the provincials re- tained possession of the field. The French and their savage allies retreated, taking with them Iheir prisoner. He was drugged onward by his foes, who stripped him of his clothes, his shoes and hat, and forced him to bear the most cruel burdens, while his flesh was incessantly lacerated by the thorns and briers of the woods. One of these savages had struck him with the but-end of his musket, and fractured his jaw, causing excruciating pain, and an- other had wounded him with a tomahawk in the neck. His suH'orings wore not ended with this treatment. He had been destined to perish at the stake, and the brutal conquerors had already determined upon inflicting the most cruel torture to add to the bitterness of doath. They bound their victim to a tree, naked and covered with wounds, and had already lighted the faggots that were to consume him, when one of them, more humane than the rest, informed Molang of his danger, and this olhcer rushed to his rescue. Reprimanding the Indians for their barbarity, Molang delivered the prisoner to his captor, that being ids right, who now treated him with comparative kind- ness, though with sufficient cruelty to have overcome a less vigorous constitution. Putnam was carried to Ticcn- tleroga, where he w^as made known to Montcalm, who had him transferred to Montreal. In this city there were several American prisoners, and among them Colonel Peter Schuyler. This gallant officer, when he heard of Putnam's presence, hastened to visit him, and was so overcome at beholding the noble soldier, without coat, vesting, or stock- ings, with his body exhibiting marks Of cruel violence, that he could hardly contain his indignation. By con- TAKING OF Q U E B K C AND HAVANA. 143 lealing the major's rank and importance, he succeeded m getting his name included in the cartel when the ex- change of prisoners took {)lace, and thus enabled him to return to his home. He took with him the famous Mrs. Howe, whose interesting history is so well known, and in whose welfare Colonel Scthuyler took the deepest interest. The campaign of 1759 again found our hero in the army, now raised to the rank of a lieutenant-colonel. The expedition against Ticonderoga and Crown Point was suc- cessfully executed under General Amherst, under whom Putnam served. The victory of Wolfe, and his death under the walls of Quebec, are known. While the arms^ of the Provincials were cro'vned with glory, they were shaded by the loss of this gallant soldier. The war ter- minated in 1700, leaving the French in possession of Montn^al, as their only important post. This was subse- quently rescued from their hands, and in the enterprise Putnam's ingenuity and daring were again consjncuous. Although the treaty of Paris, in 17G3, had concluded the hostilities between the French and the English, yet the western Indians were not dispostjd to remain quiet, and an expedition was undertaken against them, in which Putnam commanded the Connecticut troops. The savages were soon overawed, and a treaty was concluded with them. In 17G2, when war was declared between England and Spain, Lieutenant-Colonel Putnam was sent with the Con* necticut regiment to Cuba, whence, after suffering ship- wreck and the ravages of disease, having successfully, in conjunction with the English, conquered the fortifica- tions of Havana, he returned with a remnant of his army to his country. Thus ended a war of nearly ten years, during which, by a bravery as unostentatious as it was valuable, and by d combination of qualities rarely met with in one man, Putnam won a name that secured to him in the Revolutior the high rank he enjoyed. 144 ISRAEL PUTNAM. In 1764 the stamp-act severed the ties which bound the colonies to the mother country, Putnam was among the foremost in opposition to this odious measure, and had the gratification to see that opposition effective. On the 19th of April, 1775, he was laboring in the field, when news of the battle of Lexington was brought to him by a man who rode through the country, attracting atten- tion by tapping the drum at his side and announcing the 'commencement of hostilities. Leaving his plough, Put- nam detached his horse, mounted, and galloped off' to Cambridge, where on the 21st he attended a council ot war. The Assembly of his state being then in session, he was summoned to wait uj on it for consultation. It be- stowed upon him the commission of a brigadier-general, and he immediately returned to Cambridge, leaving orders that all troops enlisted should follow as speedily as possible. On the 21st of May General Ward was commissioned as major-general and commander-in-chief of the troops of Massachusetts. The head-quarters were at Cambridge : the right wing of the army was at Roxbury, under com- mand of Brigadier-General Thomas ; at Medford was the left wing, to -which the commands of Colonels Stark and Reed were attached. General Putnam was stationed at Inman's farm, in command of three regiments. The British army consisted of ten thousand men. During the month of May General Putnam undertook to remove the cattle from the islands in the harbour of Boston, in order to cut off' the enemy's supplies. Gene- ral Warren accompanied him, and the enterprise was suc- cessful. This gave the American troops confidence, and infused a good spirit throughout their ranks. The com- mittee of safety, on hearing of the intention on the part of the British to occupy the heights of Dorchester and Charles- town, recommended to the council of war to occupy Bun- ker Hill, at Charlestown, as speedily as possible. Foi this purpose, a thousand men under the command of Colo- BATTLE OF BUNKER HILL. 145 oel Prescott assembled at Cambridge on the 16th of June, and proceeded at night to take possession of these heights. General Putnam accompanied the detachment. The plan was to occupy Bunker Hill, but Breed's Hill, the most easterly height, having command of the former, it was resolved, under advice of General Putnam, to for- tify that position. Whatever may have been said of General Putnam's supervision of these fortifications, and of his not even having been present on the 17th of June, it seems now, after a full investigation of the facts, that with Colonel Prescott he superintended them in person, oftentimes taking the spades and pickaxes from the men, to work with his own hands ; and that he performed a very distinguished and perilous part in the battle which suc- ceeded. After the full accounts given of this event, it is needless to enter into details. General Putnam was there, and Genera] Warren volunteered his services, and even offered to receive the orders of Putnam, W'ho recommended him to the redoubt where Colonel Prescott was stationed. In this most important conflict, in which the brave and lamented Warren fell, Putnam was the only general offi- cer in command, and the battle seems to have been con- ducted under his guidance ; nor is it too much to say, that most of the influence exercised by its results may be ascribed to his courage, zeal, and indefatigable efforts. On the 15th of June, Washington was unanimously elected commander-in-chief of the American army by Congress, and Ward, Lee, Schuyler, and Putnam, were elected major-generals. Washington reached Cambridge on the 2d of July, and then first became acquainted with Putnam, of whom he subsequently ever entertained a high opinion, declaring that he was " a most valuable man, and a fine executive officer." On the evacuation of Bos- ton by the British, Putnam was placed in command of the city, where he remained until the 29th of March of the next year, when he was ordered to take command of Vol. I. 13 K 146 ISKAELPUTNAM. New Yovk, and to complete the defences of the cily commenced by General Lee. It was believed ihat thi British would attack this point and endeavour to get control of the Hudson to open a communication with Canada. General Putnam, with an assiduity and per- severance peculiar to his vigorous mind, devoted him- self to the preparations necessary to preserve the post, and in such a manner as to win the confidence of Wash- ington. As the safety of New York de])ended on the possession of Long Island, fortifications were marked out and commenced under the supervision of General Greene, who had made himself well acquainted v^'ith the routes, roads, and posts by which the British would advance on Brooklyn. This iniportani knowledge was known only to Greene, but when the Brilish landed and commenced their ad- vance, that officer was suddenly taken ill, and the com- mand devolved on General Sullivan. General Putnam, on the 23d of August, was ordered to the chief command ; but it was too late for these officers to make themselves acquainted with the whole plan of fortifications and posi- tions, and when on the 27th the battle actually com- menced, the left wing of our army was suddenly out- flanked at Bedford by General Clinton, and the rear of it gained before any knowledge of the danger could be imparted to General Sullivan, who was repelling the attack made by De Heister on the centre. When, however, the movement of General Clinton became known, the troops under Sullivan finding themselves liable to be attacked in the front and rear at the same moment, broke and fled, leaving their commander a prisoner. Our army now fell back on Brooklyn, whence it was withdrawn without the knowledge of the British during the night of the 29th of August, to the city of New York. General Putnam again resumed the command of the city, but on the 12tn of September, it being no longer tenable, it was CURIOUS STUATAGEM. 14") lesolved to evacuate it. Soon after this some British ships ascended the Hudson, as far as Blooraingdale, while Sir Henry Clinton landed four thousand troops on the eastern side of the island at Kipp's bay. General Putnam now saw that if these two forces should form a communication across the island, his division would be sacrificed. Sir Henry Clinton put his men in motion, while Putnam was urging on his troops by the Bloom- ingdale route. It was a moment of peril, but Putnam's strategy again came to his aid. The enemy were obliged to pass under Murray Hill, where resided a Mrs. Murray, a Quakeress, but devoted to the cause. Sir Henry Clinton having the start, Putnam knew that unless he could detain him his retreat must inevitably be cut off". He sent his aid to Mrs. Murray, requested her to ofTer Sir Henry and his troops some refreshment, and detain them as long as she could. This plot succeeded. The British, not aware of the proximity of Putnam's division, tarried an hour at the old lady's mansion, and when they proceeded on their way they beheld the Americans turning on the northern side of the hill, and winding their way into the Bloomingdale plains. The want of troops and means of defence, compelled Washington finally to withdraw through New Jersey, and on the 8th of December, 1776, he crossed the Delaware, to prevent the enemy from gain- ing possession of Philadelphia. It was of vital import- ance to our cause that this post should be defended, and no better proof of the confidence reposed in Putnam could be given, than his being placed in command at such a critical moment. Washington now prepared for his attack upon the British at Trenton. It was his intention to order General Putnam to join him, but fear of an insurrection among ihe Royalists made his presence essential in Philadelphia, and he was deprived of any share in that victory. On the 5th of January, 1777, however, he was ordered to 148 ISRAEL PUTNAM, New Jersey, ^vhere the British forces at New Brunswick and Amboy were in winter quarters. He passed the re- mainder of the winter at Princeton, having achieved his object in forcing the British to concentrate their forces. It was necessary to conceal his want of troops from the enemy, for he could only number a few hundred men in his command. This was no easy task, for he was but fifteen miles distant from their quarters. On one occasion he was sorely puzzled how to act. Captain McPherson, a Scotch officer, who had been wounded at the battle of Princeton, still lay in a precarious situation in the town. While his recovery was considered doubtful, he requested permission to send for a friend in the British army, at Bruns- wick, that he might confide to him some testamentary matters of great importance. To allow one of the enemy to enter his outposts would be to show the meagre extent of his force ; and to refuse seemed cruel. He finally consented, but on the condition that this friend should come at night. An officer was despatched to Brunswick to conduct him to McPherson's (chamber. It was after dark before they reached Princeton. General Putnam had the College hall and all vacant houses lighted up, and while the two friends were closeted had his men marched rapidly before the house, and around the quarters of the captain, with great pomp and bustle ; and repeated this manoeuvre several times, to give an impression of a strong force. It was afterwards reported to the enemy by the captain's friend, that our troops could not number less than five thousand, if he might judge of the number by what he heard and saw. The purposes of the British generals, Burgoyne and Howe, not being known, it was impossible to prepare for any particuhir attack ; but Washington deemed the points of Ticonderoga, Philadelphia, and the Highlands on the Hudson, all-important, and though our troops were inade- quate to tlie task, yet the defence of these posts was un- DEFENCE OF THE HIGHLANDS. 149 dertaken. Putnam was ordered to the Highlands, and stationed himself at Peekskill, where he remained from May until October. He devoted his attention to the different fortifications on the river> having his forces frequently reduced by orders to send detachments in dif- ferent directions, as the movements of the British array became known. On the 5th of October Sir Henry Clin- ton, under the cover of a fog, succeeded in surprising forts Clinton and Montgomery, and gaining possession of them. In consequence of this disaster, forts Indepen- dence and Constitution were abandoned, and General Putnam retired to Fishkill. He succeeded, however, in regaining Peekskill and the mountain passes, and learned after the surrender of Burgoyne, that the British had re- tired again to New York. Washington was at this time in the vicinity of Phila- delphia, where the British were in possession with ten thousand men. Colonel Hamilton, Washington's aid, repaired to Putnam's camp, and ordered him to send for- ward a brigade which he had received from the north after Burgoyne's surrender. This order was not immedi- ately obeyed, and gave rise to a severe letter from Hamil- ton to General Putnam, which the latter, deeming the tone improper, transmitted to Washington. The letter was approved of by Washington, and seems to be the only instance in which General Putnam met the displea- sure of the commander-in-chief. After the withdrawal of the British, Putnam moved down the river, and took post at New Rochelle, on the west side of the Sound, about twenty-five miles from New York, but in December was ordered back to the Highlands, where he spent the winter. It was d-'ring this winter, that Putnam, in con- formity with orders received from Washington, under date of January 25th, 1778, gave his attention to the rebuild- ing of the forts in the Highlands which had been de- stroyed by the British. West Point was the site selected 13* 150 I SUAE 1, Vll TN A M. I))' him ; uiul dmini;- the mouih of January (hr j^roiind was hrokcn tin- \\\v crvcUon i>t" tliis Ibitification. During tliis vcar ii\tiuirv was luatlc into the losses of F(irts Clinton and Moii(!;(>n\{M'v, Init Viitnam was rclievt'd ot" all hlanu*. Out- circuinstaiict' shtMdd he nxMitioned lu're ; we mean the wondtMlid t>S('a|>t> at I lorscncfk. While Cleneral Put- nnin was visiting dnrint;' the winter one of his out-posts at West Greenwich, (iovernor 'I'ryon was undertaking an exeursii^n against that post with about tilletMj liundred n\»>n. I'ulnani had hut filh . With these fi'w he stationed hiniselt" near the iueetini>-house on the brow of a very steip declivity. Here lu' reeeived the attack of the Bri- tish with a ilisehar«>e from his artillery, but perceiving Tryon's drag'oons about to chari^-e, he ordered his men to retreat to the swamp behind the hill, where no cavalry couhl follow, while he uvLTt'd his iiorse directly down the prei i[>if(>, \o the astonishment of the enemy, who followed him to the edge of the perilous ilesc(M\t. This ileclivity has since b(M'nt> ;lie name t>f Putnam's Hill. (Jeiu'ral Putnam wa8 superintend ing the new works in the Highlands uniil the winter of 177!), when lie visited Ids family, but on his leturn was unexpectetUy attacked by {niralysis, by whicl\ he lost the use of his limbs on one siile. He nt>ver recmereil, although he lived till May 19, 1790. The inscription upon his tomb, fivm the pen of his friend, Dr. Dwight, gives the best summary of his cha- ractt^r. He speaks oi' him as a hero who ilared to lead wluMc any ilared to tollow ; as a patriot who rendered gallant and ilisiinguished services to his co\intry ; as a man whose generosity was singular, wb.ose honesty was proverbial, and who raiseil hin\selt to universal esteem, and ollices of eminent distinction, by persomd worth and ft useful life. MAJOR-(;knmiut, ifoiiatio ruTi^^s. Horatio (iAtio.s wuh horn in I'ji^liiiid, in llic yvdr J72S. His taslns in youth impcUcd liirn Nlroiif^ly to Ihc jirofcission of arms, and al an cnrly n^c he cfitcrcd Ihc inihlary Ncr- vic-(' of (Jrcal Hriliiin. Allhoii!';h lie w;is iiiuiifh-d hy lhoH(! advantaf^cs of hirlh and infhiciirc, which in loo many cases supply the want, of jxTsonal worth, yet he soon \h'.- came favonr.dily ltn(twn. W;ir is no pastime, and at this period in her hisloiy lMi;(hiiid m-eih'd men of merit for her service. The man wiio did liis duty in the field and thtl. Eiii>;liintl has seldom resigned a prey upon wliicli her gaze has once been fixed. In January, ll(r2, a lleet of eighteen ships of tlie line approached the ishiiid, under the command of Admiral Rodney. The land forces were under General Monckton, to whom Major Gates was aid. The whole nun\ber of men engaged in this enterprise was not less than twelve thousand. The natural defences of the island were strong. It was mountainous in parts, and broken into ileep and rugged ravines, covered with wood. The emi- nences were fortified with all the skill of French engi- neers, and besides a large force of regulur soldiers the militia of the island were brave and well disciplined. Two fortified hills oj)posed the sfrongent obstacles to the progii'ss of the English. Morne Torlerson was near- est to the port ol" landing, and iMornc Garnier, further in tlie interior, del'.'ndiMl the approach to Fort Uoyul and to St. Pierre, the capital of the island. These two emi- nences were to be carried before any decisive impression could be made. The ]Ongliah land forces advanced with steadiness along the beach, towards the first hill ; the artillery covered the light trooi)s, and ii thousand sailors, in tlat-bottonicd boats, rowed close to the shore to aid the division. After a sharp struggle, Mornc Torteuson was earrieil ; but the greatest difHculty yet remained. Garnicr was obstinately defended, and three days were employed in erecting batteries to drive the garrison from their post. But in the midst of these prei)arations, the impetuous courage of the French compelleil them to hazard an attack. In solid columns they issued from Fort Royal, and poured down fiom Morne Gamier upon the advanced posts of the enemy. The assault was firmly received, but overpowered by numbers the outer guard gave way, and the French began to hope for victory. But the main body of the English army rushing forward to support their companions, bore down the advancing cohnnns, and 154 HORATIO GATES. repulsed them with much loss. The militia dispersed mto the country — the regulars retreated into the town — all the redoubts were carried, nor did the British troops stop until they had gained the top of Morne Garnier, and driven the garrison from their guns. This advantage was deci- sive of the fate of the island. Without waiting for the batteries of the Mount to open, Fort Royal capitulated on the 4th of February, and a few days afterwards Martinico fell into the hands of the English. In this hazardous enterprise Major Gates rendered efficient service to his commander, and his reputation as a brave and prudent officer was considered as well established. After the peace of Paris, in 1763, English armies again had a season of rest from active duty. It was at this time that many British officers settled in the American colonies, and became identified with their interests. We do not know with certainty in what year Major Gates came to Virginia, but long before the commencement of the Revolution he was an inhabi:ant of her soil. He pur- chased a fine body of land in the county of Berkeley, west of the Blue Ridge, and devoted himself with success to agricultural pursuits. He was respected and beloved by his neighbours. His manners were easy and cour- teous, and by frequent exhibitions of a generous disposi- tion he gained the esteem of all. His person was remark- able for grace and dignity. In middle life he was a very handsome man, though afterwards a tendency to corpulency manifested itself. His services in arms were not forgotten, and an occasion only was wanted to call him again to the field. When the revolutionary war was at length fully opened, he embraced the cause of his adopted country, and tendered himself to Congress as one willing to se^^'e in the armies of America. In 1775, he joined Washing- ton, at Cambridge, as his adjutant, and held also the rank of brigadier. It was at this time that the first symptoms GATES WITH THE NORTHERN ARMY. 155 of 'iissatisfaction with the commander-in-chief wrre shomi in the conduct of his subordinate. Ambition was the controlling power of the life of Gates. This quality may be truly said to be the characteristic of noble minds ; when it is modified and restrained by virtue and patriotism it becomes the parent of great deeds and exalted success, but when it reigns paramount, it seldom fails to degrade its subjects by urging them to doubtful courses for gain- ing their ends. Gates was anxious to obtain a separate command as brigadier-general, but when he made known his wishes to Washington, that prudent chief thought it best to decline acceding to his request. He acted upon reasons not unjust to his aid, and satisfactory to himself, but his refusal inflicted a wound which was not soon healed. In the subsequent events of the war correspondence some- times occurred between the two generals, and Washing- ton felt that he had cause to complain of " an air of design, a want of candour in many instances, and even of politeness," in the missives received from his inferior. Gates had many admirers in Congress, and friends were not wanting to bring him prominently before his country. After the death of the heroic Montgomery at Quebec, and the subsequent disasters which gradually drove the Ameri- cans from all the posts they had gained in Canada, their reduced army, under General Sullivan, was posted along the line of Lake Champlain between Ticonderoga and Crown Point. Privation, famine and sickness had caused their numbers rapidly to decline. From seven thousand and six effective men, they were speedily brought down to about three thousand, and these were very inadequately supplied with the munitions of war. General Sullivan exerted himself with commendable zeal in correcting the errors which had produced their misfortunes, and if he wrought nothing brilliant, he at least stopped the progress of disaster. In June, 1776, General Gates was appointed to the command of the Northern army. When he reached 1.56 HORATIO GATES. the spot where most of the troops were concentrated, he found the small-pox raging among them, and daily reduc- ing the number who could be relied upon for active ser- ▼ice. The quantity of powder for use was unequal to the demands of a campaign, and pressed by these and similar Jifficulties, he adopted a measure, the expediency of A'hich was soon called seriously into question. With- drawing the whole American force which had been stationed at Crown Point, he concentrated his army at Ticonderoga. The effect of this was to leave the naviga- tion of Lake Champlain almost undisputed to the English, and to expose the eastern border of New York to their invasion. Whether the exigencies of his condition re- quired this step it is not now easy to decide, but it is certain that experienced officers condemned it, and Wash- ington thought it highly injudicious. The enemy did not long hesitate to avail themselves of the advantages thus alTbrded to them. Their Heet traversed the lake undisturbed, and finding that his sources of supply were threatened, Gates determined to op})osc a naval force to the English armament on Champlain. Arnold was appointed to the command of the American flotilla. The two fleets en- countered each other, and though the republican leader and his half-trained mariners displayed desperate valour, they were overcome in the conflict, and only saved their principal vessels from capture, by running them ashore and blowing them up by means of slow matches, after their crews had abandoned them. After a few months Gates again joined the commander- in-chief, and the Northern army was assigned to General Schuyler. And now commenced that memorable enter- prise, in which England hoped to crush the spirit of America and reduce ner to submission, but which, in its results, was destined to revive the hopes of every patriot heart. A splendid army was prepared, that it might de- scend from the lakes, and subduing all intermediate opposi- DESCENT OF BURGOYNE. 157 tion, might finally establish communication with the English general in New York, and bind the northern colonies in military chains. General Burgoyne had beeii chiefly active in urging the ministry to commence this enterprise, and he was placed in its command with the en- tire concurrence of the ruling powers. Full British and Ger- man regiments, amounting in all to seven thousand men, engaged in the expedition. They were admirably disci- plined, armed, and accoutred. Besides these, a train of artillery, more powerful and complete than any that had ever followed a similar army, contributed to its appearance and efficiency. Discarding the merciful policy of Sir Guy Carleton, Burgoyne invited the fiercest Indian tribes of the north to join his standard, and though, in his ad- dress to them, he urged them to abandon some of their savage practices, yet his proclamation to the people of Vermont and New York breathed a spirit of cruelty which roused rather than intimidated those who heard them. High in hope and courage, the British army ad- vanced from Crown Point to Ticonderoga, and crossing to Fort Independence, commenced its descent into Ver- mont. General Schuyler did all to oppose the progress of Burgoyne that his limited means and the wretched state of his troops would permit, but his efforts were vain. The advance of the enemy was steady. Post after post fell into their hands, nor did they meet even with a temporary reverse until a detachment of their army encountered the brave « Green Mountain Boys" at Bennington, At this crisis, the eyes of Congress were turned upon General Gates. He was looked to as the man best fitted to inspire renewed confidence into the dispirited lines of the provincial forces, and to oppose, by his military skill, the veterans of the English army. He was appointed to ani(!d by a highly conijilimcntary letter from the President of Congress. General Ii<'c ix-ing soon aflcr ordered to llie soulhward, Lord Stirling riunainc^d for a season in the chief cointnand at New York. lie inunedialeiy directed his ellorls to cutting off tin; coMmiuiiicalion Ix'lvveen the king's ships in the hay, and the inhabit ants of Long and Stalen Islands; and preparing quarters f()r the army under General Wash- ington, who intended lo march (hitlier as soon as the enemy should have left I'oston. The American force at New York, including the volun- teers from the city, did not amount to two tliousarid men. Lord Stirling, tiierefi^re, in expectation that the Ihitish fleet and artny would proceed imnnidialely to New York, called for additional troops from Connecticut and New Jersey, as w(;ll as f()r th(; full quota to l)e furnished i)y New York. Meanwhile lie enijiloyed those In; already had in fortifying the commanding points in the harbour. In this, the troops were assisted by tin; inhabitants of the city and its neigh- bourhood. In addition to otiier motives to exertion, tliey knew that their commauder was stimulated by the assur- ance of General Washington, that " the fate of this cam- paign, and of course the fate of America, depends on you and the army under your command, should the emnny attempt your quarter." For a short period liord Stirling was superseded in hi^ command, by the arrival at New York of his senior ofhcer, Brigadier-general Thompson. He employed th(; interval in superintending th(! construction of additional works on the Jersey shore of the Hudson, (ic^neral Ttiompson being fcoon afterwards ordered to the Canadian frontier, the chief command at New York once more devolved on Lord 174 wiLV, lAM, i:arl of Stirling. Stirling, who again applied himself to the completion of its defences. General Washington arrived there with his army on the 14th of April. The British commander-in-chief, Sir William Howe, instead of proceeding directly to New York, retired to Halifax, to await reinforcements from Eng- land. It was near the end of June before the fleet under the command of his brother, Lord Howe, on board of which was the army, entered Sandy Hook ; and the lattei was not disembarked until the day on which Congress de- clared the independence of the United States. After a further delay of more than six w^eks, during which the Briiish army had landed on Staten Island, it was re-embarked, and again landed under cover of the fleet, at Gravesend on Long Island. General Washington, unwilling to hazard a general and decisive battle with a force in many respects superior to his own, attempted no more than the temporary check and annoyance of the enemy. He remained, himself, with the reserve of the army within the city, intrusting the chief command on Long Island to General Putnam, who had under him Generals Greene, Sullivan, and Stirling, the former of whom was confined by severe illness to his bed. On the night of the '2b{h of August, the British general, Grant, w-ith five thousand men and ten pieces of cannon, was reported to be advancing from the Narrows, along the shores of the bay. Lord Stirling was directed by Putnam to oppose this formidable force with the two continental regiments nearest at han/1. Soon after day-break on the 26th, he came within sight of the enemy before whom our advanced parties were retiring. These he rallied, and being joined by some artillery, made the necessary dis- position of his men, and commenced skirmishing when within a hundred and fif^y yards of the enemy. The firing was kept up briskly on both sides for two hours, when the British light troops retired, though the cannon TAKEN PRI90NEU. 175 ading between the parties continued for some time after- wards. Another body of the enemy, under Lord Cornwallis, now gained the rear of Lord Stirling, who at once perceived that an immediate retreat could alone save his detachment. Ordering the main body of his force to make the best of their way through the Gowannis Creek, he placed himself at the head of four hundred of Smallwood's regiment, and attacked Cornwallis, who was advantageously posted in a house at Luqueer's mills, near which the remainder of Lord Stirling's troops was to pass the creek. The attack was maintained with so much intrepidity and persever- ance, that the British general was about being driven from his station, when he received a reinforcement which com- pelled his assailants to draw oflf. Lord Stirling had, however, secured the retreat of the main body of his de- tachment ; and his object now was to provide for the" safety of the gallant remnant he had retained with him In this attempt he was met by fresh bodies of the enemy in every direction, but he had himself succeeded in turning the point ^f a hill covering him from their fire, when he was intercepted by a corps of Hessians under General de Heister, to whom he was compelled to surrender. Gene- ral Washington bore the strongest testimony to the bravery, skill, and pertinacity with which Lord Stirling had attacked the enemy, and by the sacrifice of himself saved his de- tachment ; and he took the earliest opportunity to effect his exchange : while Congress, in acknowledgment of his conduct, promoted him to the rank of major-general. In this capacity he joined the army on its memorable retreat through New Jersey, ^nd took part in the operations on the Delaware, where he again signalized himself by the successful defence of Coryell's Ferry. When the army went into winter quarters at Morristown, General Washington selected Lord Stirling to command on the lines immediately c>])posite to the enemy. Here he was 176 WILLJAM, EARL OF STIRLING. frequently engaged with strong parties of the British and Hessians detached on predatory and other more important expeditions into the country. On one of these occasions, his old antagonist, CornwalHs, had marched out in great force from Pertli-Amboy, and advanced as far as tlie " Short hills" near Springfield, with the view, as it was supposed, of breaking up General Washington's winter quarters at Morristow^n. Lord Stirling put himself at the head of the few regular troops he had with him on the lines, encoun- tered the advance of the British detachments with great gallantry, and at length, when compelled by superior numbers to retreat, took so advantageous a position as to arrest the progress of the enemy, and frustrate his design. Upon the opening of the campaign of 1777, he again encountered a formidable party of the enemy under the same commander, and after sustaining an attack with his usual courage and constancy for some time, he was com- pelled by their superior strength to retire from the open country, with the loss of three of his field-pieces ; but gaining an advantageous position among the hills near Middlebrook, he made so obstinate a stand as to arrest the further progress of the enemy. This and similar checks induced Su" William Howe to abandon his attempt to reach Philadelphia by land. Lord Sdrling was now detached with his division to the Hudson, to reinforce the army intended to operate against Burgoyne, But v^^hen he had reached the highlands, he was recalled, in consequence of intelligence of the em- barkation of the British troops at New York, with the pro- bable design of proceeding to Philadelphia. The Ame- ncan army now took up a position on the Brandywine, to oppose tlie advance of the enemy upon the seat of the continental government, and General Washington deter- mined to hazard a battle for its protection. In the action which followed, Lord Stirling threw himself, w'ith .SuU'van THE CONWAY r\BAL. 177 and Lh f ayette, personally into the conflict, while the divi- sion of the former was retreating ; and they maintained their ground until the American force was completely broken, and when the -^nemy were within twenty yards of them they made good their retreat into the woods. At the battle of Germantown, fought soon afterwards, Lord Stirling commanded the reserve, composed of the New- Jersey and North Carolina regiments, and was actively engaged at the close of the action, when Brigadier-general Nash, who commanded the North Carolina troops, wa<5 slain upon the field. Encouraged by the good conduct of his troops in this engagement, General Washington meditated an attack upon Philadelphia. He submitted the subject to the con- sideration of a council of war, a majority of which were against the proposal. Lord Stirling, who was in the minority, was requested by the rest to draw a plan for tiie attack, which they submitted to the commander-in-chief. Upon receiving it, General V/ashington proceeded in per- son to reconnoitre the defences of the enemy ; but he came to the conclusion that the works were too strong to be carried without great loss, and the design of assaulting them Was reluctantly abandoned. The army then went into winter-quarters at Valley Forge. The winter of 1777-8 was rendered memorable by the discovery of a plot for superseding General Washington in the chief command of the army — known, from its prime mover, as the "Conway Cabal." Emboldened by the success of Gates at Saratoga, and encouraged by some symptoms of hostility which had been manifested towards Washington in Congress, some restless spirits in the army, the principal of whom, besides Gates himself, were Gene- rals Conway and Mifflin, engaged in an intrigue with some of the disaffected in Congress to substitute their chief in the place of Washington. They relied of course upon the eclat Gates had acquired from the surrender of M nS W/LLIAM, EARL OF STIRLING. Burgoyne. But they forgot that his good fortune on ihat occasion was more owing to the previous dispositions of General Schuyler, who had preceded him in the command, than to his own military skill, and they failed to make allow- ance for the constitutional weakness and irresolution of a leader upon whose vanity they had practised with success. This conspiracy was defeated principally through the in- strumentality of Lord Stirling. It was brought to his knowledge through the convivial indiscretion of Wilkinson, one of the minor })arties, who was aid-de-camp to General Gates, and had been despatched by him to Congress with the account of his success. Wilkinson, on his way to Congress, stopped at Lord Stirling's head-quarters, at Reading, in Pennsylvania, and dined at his table on the day he arrived. After Lord Stirling had withdrawn, Wilkinson repeated to Major Mc Williams, an aid of Lord Stirling's, the well-known passage in the letter of Conway to Gates : " Heaven has determined to save your country, or a weak general and bad counsellors would have ruined it." McWilliams considered it his duty to communicate the affair to Lord Stirling, who in his turn felt bound by private friendship as well as public duty to inform Gene- ral Washington. For this, an efibrt was made by the conspirators to disparage his character, by charging him with a breach of hospitality; but the attempt recoiled upon the heads of those who were themselves parties to a treacherous intrigue, and secretly engaged in circulating the grossest calumny. The army remained at the Valley Forge until the eva cuation of Philadelphia, by Sir Henry Chnton, who had succeeded Sir William Howe in the command of the British forces. As soon as he was apprized of that move- ment, General Washington started in pursuit of the ene- my, with the intention of hanging on his rear, harassing him on his march, and in case of a favourable opportunity bringing him to action, which at length was accomphshed CAPTURE OF PAULUS HOOii. 179 at Monmouth Court-house. In the battle that ensued, Lord Stirling commanded the left wing of the American army, and at the crisis of the engagement produced by the unexpected retreat of General Lee, he brought forward a detachment of artillery which played with such effect upon the enemy as to prevent his profiting by the advan- tage he had gained. To retrieve the day, a British column then attempted to turn Lord Stirling's left flank, but were repulsed by the infantry of his division. In the October following, he was ordered to Elizabeth- town, to command the troops engaged in watching the British fleet and army at New York. Upon the opening of the campaign of 1779, he was directed to take post at Pompton with the Virginia division, and cover the coun- try towards the Hudson. Major Henry Lee, who, with his light horse, formed part of Lord Stirling's command, having learned that the advanced party of the enemy at Paulus Hook was remiss in keeping guard, formed the project of surprising it. His suggestion being approved. Lord Stirling furnished the necessary force, and took part in person with a strong detachment in covering Lee's re- treat. The enterprise was successful ; and, for the part he had taken in the aflair. Lord Stirling received the thanks of the commander-in-chief, and of Congress. When the army again went into winter quarters at Morristown, Lord Stirling was detached at the head of two thousand men to attempt the surprise of the British posts on Staten Island. He succeeded in crossing to the island on the ice, but failed in taking the enemy by surprise. The enemy's works were too strong to be taken by assault^ and the communication by water with New York, from which the enemy might be reinforced, was unexpectedly found Jo be open. The attack, therefore, was abandoned ; but some sharp skirmishing took place on the retreat, a charge on the rear by the enemy's cavalry was repelled, and a few prisoners were brought off by the Americans. 180 WILLIAM, EARL OF STIRLING. The campaign of 1780 was not distinguished by any important event in the northern states, and Lord StirHng, after a long absence, was enabled to visit his family, and look after his concerns at Baskenridsre. The next year he was ordered to Albany, to take com- mand of the army collecting there, to resist another threatened invasion from Canada. He assembled the main body of his troops at Saratoga, and prepared to defend the passage of the Hudson at Fort Miller. The invading army, under St. Leger, had advanced as far as Lake George, when its commander was deterred by the seve- rity of the weather from proceeding further, or determined by intelligence of Cornwallis's surrender to retrace his steps. Having ascertained that he had reached Ticon- deroga in his retreat, Lord Stirling dismissed the militia of his command, left his regular troops at Saratoga, under command of General Stai'k, and returned himself to Albany. He afierwards resumed his command in New Jersey, and established his head-quarters for the winter at Phila- delphia, which was within his military district. Early in the next summer, there were rumours of another expedi- tion being on foot from Canada, and Lord Stirling was once more ordered to Albany. The favourite object of forming a junction between a British army from Canada, and that in New York, was again revived, but no real movements for effecting it was made, and Lord StirUng had only to remain on the alert, and keep himself informed of the intentions of the enemy. His useful and honourable career was now brought suddenly to a close. The fatigue of body and mind to which he had been subjected, during his command on an important and exposed frontier, added to the arduous and unremitting service in which he had been engaged from the commencement of the war, brought on a violent attack of the gout, to wliich he was subject, and which aow HIS DEATH. 181 proved fatal. He died at Albany, on the 15th of January, 1783, in the fifty-seventh year of his age, and within one week of the solemn recognition by treaty of his country's independence. His death was scarcely less deeply la- mented by the troops he had commanded,* than by his near- est connections and most attached friends. He was indeed regretted by all who had known him, and by many who, unacquainted with him personally, lamented the loss to the public of the influence of his character, and the benefit of his services. No stronger evidence can be given of the estimation in which he was held, than the manner in which his death was communicated to Congress by the commander-in-chief, the resolutions passed by that body on receiving the inteUigence, and above all by the touch- ing letter of condolence addressed to his widow by Gene- ral Washington. Both his public and private character are illustrated by his letters, and by his acts. The former have long been accessible to all who feel an interest or curiosity in the events of his life and times,! and of the latter it may emphatically be said — " Aclis, aevum irnplct non segnibus annis." When these states were colonies, he endeavoured to promote their growth by enlightened suggestions to their rulers in the mother country ; by his own example and his advice to others he sought to multiply the objects of agricidtural production among his countrymen, and to develop the mineral wealth of the state in which he was born, and of that in which he resided ; he aided in found- ing a library for diffusing knowledge among the inhabitants • It so happened that he had had under his command, at different times during the war, every brigade in the American army, except those of South Carolina and Georgia. f In the collections of the Historical Societies of New York and New Jersey. Vol. I. 16 1 82 WILLIAM, EARL OF STIRLING. of his native city, and fostering in its infancy a literary institution* that has sent forth numerous bands of ingenu- ous youth, fitted for a career of usefulness and honour. An ardent lover of his country, an unflinching defender of her liberty, he resolutely opposed the first attempts to subjugate the one and assail the other. When the ordi- nary means had failed to obtain redress from a stubborn king, and equally obstinate parliament, he encouraged and promoted measures, rendering their illegal schemes of taxation nugatory ; and when it was attempted to put down constitutional resistance by military force, he was among the fust to take up arms ; and he never laid them down until he died on the eve of his country's triumph. Amid the various discouragements that perplexed the struggle, he never wavered or despaired of success. In equal disregard of the high rank in the parent state, and of the large territorial domain in the colonies, which a contrary course would have insured to him, he persevered to the last in support of that cause for which he had pledged his hfe antl fortune, and in which he literally lost them both. His private fortune was sacrificed in the contest, and lie hft nothing to his descendants but what he bequeathed to his country and mankind: — 'lving trust and importance ; while in the history of the Six Nations, especially in that of the renowned Mohawks, it must re- main linkeil lor ever, no other tamily in the country ever having possessed in so high a degree the conlidence of these modern lleracliihv. Philip Schuyler was born at Albany, November '22d, 1733. His father having died while he was yet young, he was adopted into the family of Colonel Philip Schuyler, of the Flats, as Saratoga was at that time designateil, whose estate at that place he afterwards inherited; so that the great scene of his un- tiring labours for his country — the scene of his sacrifices, triumphs, and humiliations — was upon his own acres, in sight of all the recollections of his childhooil and youth, amid the mouldering ashes of his once princely home, which the army of Burgoyne had wantonly destroyed ; and here it w^as, when the laurel of victory was ready to de- scend upon his own brow, that Congress wrenched it aside to place it upon his who never feared an enemy, and who " entered into the bride's feast" which the haniis of Schuyler had prepared. At twenty-two he was selected to the office of commis- sary to the army then preparing for an evpeilition against Canada. The otficers of Lord Howe remonstrated against this, as involving too much trust for so young a man ; but the etliciency and despatch with which he discharged the anluous duties ol' the otiice, fully justitied the coulidence ami discernment of that nobleman. The defeat of the army, the disasters of Ticonderoga, and the unfortunate death of Lord Howe, threw a tlouble weight ot' responsi- bility upon young Schuyler, who was intimately acquainted with that region of country, and whose influence was most neeilful to curb the recklessness of the IMohawks, who would yield service only to a Schuyler. It became his RESISTS RRITISH AGGRKSSIv^N. 185 melancholy office, likewise, to convey thr- hofly of hi.-j lamentefJ frif^nfl, Lord Howe, to Albany, a here it was honournbly interred. He continued to act in aid of the army, till the peace of 1763 restored him once more to the elet^ancips of home, but not to its repose. His education, position, and well-known public ability were too important to the wellbeing of the country, to be suffered to lie in idleness. He was appointed to various important oflices in the growing troubles of the period, all of which he discharged with benefit to his country, and honour to himself. He held a seat in the Assembly of New Vork, at that time one of considerable momf-nt, the members holding their places for seven years, the numbr^r being few, and chosen exclusively from fieeholders. Here his bold systematic opposition to the aggressive measures of the British crown, placed him foremost amongst the patriots of the day ; though one of the rninoriiy at a time when the cry of treason pealed like a knell amid the storrainess of debate, Schtiyler and the intrepid few pressed onward, true to the principles of human justice, till at leng.h the house was compelled, from very shame, to draw up a bill in which they condemned certain acts of the British Parliament '< as public grievances, and subversive of the rights of American-born British subjects." The bolt was shot, and New York fairly in the field. The country was in a state of intense excitement — resist- ance must be made, and what should be the resiilt was known only to the God of nations. But the leading m«»n of that time were definite in their ideas, and in their love for right and country. Linked as they might be by wealth and connection with the refinements of the old world, they still yielded loyal and loving service for the country of their birth. Familiar as harl been Philip .Schuyler with the best officers of the British crown, his family likewise being strongly attached to the government, two of his brothers holding offices in the British army, he 16* 186! PHILIP SCHUYLER. was still clear and determined in bis assertions of right. He was early elected a delegate to the continental Con- gress, which met in May, 1775, and hardly had he made his appearance there before he was appointed third major- general of the American army. He was immediately placed over the northern divi- sion of the army, which he hastened to reduce to order and military harmony, providing the munitions of war with a skill and celerity almost incredible, when we consider the impoverished state of the country, and which leads al Dnce to the inference that much was done from his own private resources. Indeed, later in the course of the war, Congress felt no hesitation in imposing duties upon him, which could only be so met; and it is well known thai a large amount of money vvas thus raised for the relief of the soldiery entirely upon his own responsibility. Repairing to Lake Champlain, Schuyler put Ticonderoga and Crown Point into a state of defence; and four regiments descended the lake, under the command of Montgomery, on the way to Canada. But the difficulties and hardships to which the necessities of the army reduced the com- mander were such that, at this moment of greatest need, he was taken down with a violent fever, which compelled him to a degree of inaction most irksome to his ardent temperament. Unwilling to abandon the field of labour, and hoping to surmount his illness, he caused himself to be carried in a batteau to the Isle Aux Noix, where he niight be promptly in aid of the army. But his illness was too severe to be thus summarily met, and he was obliged to be reconveyed to Ticonderoga, and to yield the Canada expedition entirely into the hands of his friend Montgomery. For two years did this able officer contend with the effects of this attack, reduced to a skeleton, and beset with difficulties the most annoying lo a soldier, from the bad condition of the army, mutinous, ill-supplied with arms and clothing, and often reduced to the greates* THANKS OF CONGRESS. l87 Straits for lack of provisions. Yet he never forsook his post ; rallying, for a few days, he was abroad wherever most needed ; reduced again, he dictated orders from his camp-bed, and wrote letters that would fill volumes to the commander-in-chief, to Congress, and wherever good could be best done. Charged with the duty of supplying the army with re- cruits, provisions, clothing, arms, and money, he upon a bed of sickness — with unlimitted orders, yet an empty ex- chequer — surrounded by wants the most urgent, which he was unable to meet, he at length sought leave to retire, lest the public good should suffer through his disabilities. Congress became alarmed ; they could not lose so efficient a man. A vote of thanks for his services passed the House ; they expressed, through President Hancock, their " greatest concern and sympathy for his loss of health, and requested that he would not insist upon a measure which would deprive America of his zeal and abilities, and rob him of the honour of completing a glorious work, which he had so happily and successfully begun." General Washington expressed similar sentiments : " Do not think of a step so injurious to yourself and the country. You have not a difficulty to contend with, which I do not labour under in the highest degree." This is an affecting picture of the two men, in their friendly and manly corres- pondence, full of forebodings, yet bearing up against the pressure of the times ; yet Washington was in the vigour of health, and Schuyler worn by labour and suffering. Schuyler bore up, without hesitation, «' now that Montgomery was no more : he who had given so many proofs of the goodness of his heart, and who, as he greatly fell in his coiuitry''s cause, was more to be envied than la- mented.'''' Every month increased the arduousness of the duties imposed upon him. No man at the time was in- trusted with so much discretionary power. Congress issued >;ts intimations of service required, and left him to perforn; 18S PHILIP SCHUYLER. It as bist he might. The army was in want of muskets ammunition, and cannon ; and the sohliers clamorous for pay. No wonder : their families were at home starving, while they, with naked feet and bare heads mounted the breastwork and presented their bosoms to the shots of the invader. They would fight and die ; but there was the wife, the mother, the helpless child, pining and dying for lack of succour. We write the history of our leaders to battle, and forget the sufferings of the great mass of beating hearts — the palpitating bone and muscle — who stood a wall of flesh for our defence. Schuyler responded to the call — he raised funds on his own account — lie did all that a human being could do in mitigation of this distress. Even Washington, from his camp at Cambridge, applied to Schuyler for arms. " Your letters and mine," said the great man, in allusion to the exigencies to which they were reduced, << seem echoes to each other, enumerating our mutual difficulties." Another office of delicacy and much difficulty devolved upon Schuyler at this time. He was ordered to disarm the tories of the Mohawk country, whose operations thwarted the interest of the American cause. These had been, many of them, his old friends and neighbours, whom the stress of the period had estranged from him : it needs but a thought to see how thankless must have been this necessary service. On the 17th of February, Lee was appointed to the command of the northern army, and Schuyler to that of New York — a change which Congress assured him was only made from their conviction that his health would not bear a northern campaign ; yet it was soon ascertained that the army in the north could not be sustained without his aid and co-operation, and his headquarters were appointed him in Albany, that he might superintend both depart- ments; but this want of efficient and energetic action upon the part of Congress, at length destroyed all hope of effecting the conquest of Canada. It was in vain that Schuyler, Montgomery, Arnold, Lee, Wooster and Thomas, COURT OF INQUIRY. 189 each and all, urged the inadequacy of support ; in vain that the soldiers, harassed to no purpose, deseited ana rebelled, and that forty officers at one time sent in their resignations ; either Congress feared the power of a great northern army, or were unable to raise one ; and, after a series of mortifying disasters, a retreat was ordered, and the enterprise abandoned. In return for all this arduous service and lavishment of fortune in behalf of his country, Schuyler found himself the subject of public abuse, and openly charged with being the cause of the failure of our arms in Canada. Disgusted at this injustice, and with the treachery of persons who ifterwards failed not openly to oppose him, he again be- sought leave from Congress to retire from the army. Con- gress refused, and expressed the warmest approval of his conduct. He demanded an examination of his career, which was promptly granted, and a full and explicit award of the approbation of Congress and that of the commander- in-chief greeted him. Impelled by the warmest love for the service, and now restored to excellent health, nothing could exceed his vigilance and activity. Thwarted and opposed as he was by Gates and others under his command, he was still courteous and conciliatory. Being now the second major-general in the array, Lee only acting above him, his position was at once important and honourable, and called forth all the nobleness of his fine character. In the mean while the splendid army of Burgoyne was making its way into the state of New York. Ten thousand effective men were on the march by the way of Lake Champlain. Schuyler with his ill supplied army was at Fort Edward, and St. Clair at Ticonderoga. Unable to compete with the forces opposed to him, the latter, without waiting orders from his superior, felt himself obliged to abandon his position and seek refuge in Fort Edward, followed by the exultant foe. The inhabitants fled in dismay from their homes, and the story of the murder of Jane McCrea, by the allied Indians of the Bri 190 PHILIP SCHUYLER. tish array, spread consternation upon every side. The eastern states were fdled with alarm, and the hero of Ben- nington once more took the field to defend the frontier of his native state. "Not a militiaman should fail to do service for his country at a crisis like this," cried the ex- asperated Schuyler, indignant at those who feared to come to the rescue. He made the warmest, the most urgent appeals; forced to retreat, the usages of war compelled him with bleeding heart to lay waste the country, that less might be left for the uses of the foe. << The earth was as a garden of Eden before them, and behind as a desolate wilderness." Bridges were destroyed, roads blocked and obstructed with timber ; the waving harvest flashed in the flame ; herds were driven away, and the people, appalled at the memory of the beautiful woman so cruelly sacrificed, followed in the wake of the camp as the only place of security. Vigorous as were the measures of Schuyler, they could not meet the exigencies of the occasion. He had urged the insufficiency of means for the defence of the northern fortifications. Ticonderoga, as we have seen, had been abandonedfor lack of resources, notwithstanding his appeals, by express, to General Washington, and to the governors of Connecticut, Massachusetts, and New York, and all his remonstrances at the insufficiency of the garrison for pur- poses of defence. He was on the march for the relief of these important posts, when he met the flying army of St. Clair. Retreating, yet full of intrepidity, Schuyler still cheered the hopes of his desponding army. He published procla- mations, he incited the inhabitants to defence, and by the most consummate attention to every part of his department, contrived to sustain his own manly heart. He writes to Washington, " If my country will support me with vigour and aexterity, and do not meanly despond, I shall be able to prevent the enemy from penetrating much farther." At the time of which we are now speaking, the whole strength of Schuyler did not exceed four thousand five hundred men. They were without suitable arms, without APPROACH OF BURGOYNE. 191 Tarriors who for years, bordering upon a century, had been artillery; suffering, sickly, distressed, and daily wasted by desertions. This insufficient band was expected to resist the progress of an array flushed with success, six thousand strong, and superbly accoutred. The eastern troops were jealous of those of New York, they concurred scantily with military usages, and Schuyler was compelled to rely mostly upon the aid of his immediate state. Un disheartened by these obstacles his efforts were unceasing, and by the first of Auo-ust he was able to make some stand against the foe. As Burgoyne made his way down the Hudson, there were constant skirmishings at the outposts of the army as it s'.owly retreated in good order to the famous Saratoga. In the mean while the detachment of the British arioy, under St. Leger, had besieged Fort Stanwix, which was reduced to the last extremity, but still nobly held out, as knowing the tverrible fate which awaited them should they fall into the hands of the enemy and their ferocious Indian allies. The seat of war was now one of intense interest. Schuyler saw that the moment for decisive action was at hand, and nothing that human forethought could suggest to make it one of triumph was wanting on his part. Fort Stanwix was a subject of intense anxiety, and at this mo- ment, when it seemed needful to concentrate the forces to resist the approach of the main army of Burgoyne, Gene- ral Herkimer was sent to the relief of this fortress. On his way he was encountered by the detachment under Sir John Johnson, and defeated at the battle of Oriskany, a battle, which, for wild picturesque interest suggests the romance of border warfare in the highest degree.* Schuy- ler here encountered a commander who had often shared the hospitalities of his own household, and a race of rude • The best description of this battle, which we have ever se(»n, mny ins found in the pages of Greyslayer, a Legend of the Mohawk, from tbo pen of C. F. HofTman ; the vivid imagination of the novelist heinff r>rttcr adapted to <» stirring scene hke this, than the ordinarily dry details oi th« kifttorian. 192 PHILIP SCHUYLER. treated as younger children by his family. Such are the urgencies of war! Schuyler, with the whole oi Bur- goyne's array bearing down upon him, needing every man at his post ready for the coming onset, was yet compelled to weaken his army further, by the despatch of men to the relief of Gansevoort, still holding out gallantly in the de- fence of Fort Stanwix. Arnold, with five hundred men, was sent to the rescue, and the despairing prisoners who for three weeks had repelled a murderous foe, hailed their approach with loud shouts. Thus was this little band saved from destruction, and the death of the stout Herkimer, who perished at Oriskany, in some degree avenged ; St. Leger, with his tories and Indian allies, held in abeyance, and Schuyler's troops al- lowed time to breathe before the great onset of Burgoyne. Then came the news of the battle of Bennington, and all was hope and exultation. Schuyler saw now nothing but victory. All was in readiness to meet the foe, and he, so often hindered, tried, and perplexed, was able to make a great stand for freedom, upon his own hearth-stone, as it were. At this moment Gates appeared in the camp, and Philip Schuyler was superseded in command by his former ene- my ; the same who had once before refused to serve under him at Ticonderoga, and who had spared nothing to achieve his downfall. From this time Gates has been called the hero of Saratoga — it has a sound of mockery. << I am sensible of the indignity of being ordered from the command of the army, at a time when an engagement must soon take place ;" such was the calm remonstrance of this most injured great man, whose conduct on this oc- casion was worthy of Washington himself; and such as no man but Philip Schuyler, the true patriot, the brave and thoroughly upright man, could have evinced. So far from displaying the meanness of any kind of resentment, he generously offered to serve his country as a private gentle- man in any way in which he could be usefid. He stil. gaA'e the aid of his best counsel, and continued his corres* HIS DEATH. 193 pondence with Congress, which could ill do without his valuable aid in the various departments in which he had been employed. Subsequently, when his whole career had been subjected to the most rigid examination, and when his conduct had been fully approved, Washington and other friends urged him to resume the command of the northern department; but he resolutely refused — his pride had been too deeply wounded — he had encountered oblo- quy and injustice where applause should have followed his steps, and he had too much self-respect to hazard the trial. But his public services did not end here. After the necessary attention to his own estates, " which had greatly suffered by the barbarous ravages of the British army," he was zealous in promoting the adoption of the Con- stitution of the United States, and was elected to the first Senate, under the new order of things. He foresaw the marvellous prosperity of his native state, and was foremost in the great movement in behalf of internal improvements. In the plan which he sketched for furthering the navigation of the Mohawk may be traced the germ of the Erie Canal, which, splendid as it is, is destined to dwindle into insig- nificance before the gigantic plans now in progress of de velopment. The last years of Schuyler were distinguished with the elegant dignity of an American gentleman. Full of years, beloved, and respected, the statesman, the patriot, and the Christian moved calmly to the " dread bou'.ie." On the death of Washington, his long-tried friend and brother in arms, he dressed in deep mourning. His four last years were a period of grief and bereavement, which loosened the grasp of the good man upon life. His wife, most tenderly beloved, was taken away ; his daughter, Mrs. Van Rensselaer, died ; and his noble son-in-law, the great Hamilton, perished by the hand of Burr. His cup of bit- terness was at the brim — he died, November 18th, 1804. aged seventy-one. Vol. I. 17 N MAJOR-GENERAL JOHN SULLIVAN. John Sullivan was born in Berwick, in the province of Maine, on the 17th of February, 1740. His father emi- grated from L'eland in 1723, and died at the great age of one hundred and four years, after seeing his sons, the sub- ject of this sketch and Governor James SulHvan of Mas- sachusetts, occupy the most elevated positions in a new empire which they had helped to rear up about him. He was a farmer in moderate circumstances, and his sons laboured with him in the field during the greater portion of their minority. The schools of the period afforded few advantages for high or various cultivation, but he was well versed in the ancient languages, in history, and in other branches, and attended himself to their education. Mr. Sullivan studied the law, was admitted to the bar, and established himself at Durham, in New Hampshire, where he acquired an extensive practice. His attention was soon, however, diverted from his profession to the ga- thering storm of the Revolution, and the stand he took ir defence of popular rights in 1772, led to his being com- missioned as a major of the militia. From this time he was actively engaged in the public service. In September, 1774, he took his seat in the Continental Congress, and in December, of the same year, he was engaged with Johr Langdon in the first act of forcibi'a opposition to the royal authority. General Gage, anticipating the approach of hostilities, began in every direction to seize upon such military stores as were not in the safe possession of the king's troops, fulfilling thus the fears of the timid and the hopes of those who saw no possibility of a reconciliation. Fort William and Mary, near Portsmouth, contained a con- 10^ APPOINTED A BRIGADIER-GENERAL. 195 siderable supply of arms and ammunition, and was garri- soned by but five men. A force was secretly organized, under Sullivan and Langdon, to seize upon this before the arrival of an expected reinforcement from Boston ; and the plan was executed with perfect success, so that the soldiers were imprisoned and one hundred barrels of powder, six- teen cannon, a large supply of small arms and other stores, were removed to places of safety before the ships with the troops entered the harbor. Governor Wentworth denounced the act as one of treason, and Langdon was advised by a member of the council that '< his head would be made a button for a rope" if he did not leave the province ; but the king's power had already ceased to be a terror : the governor himself was soon to become a fugitive. The spoils of the adventure were turned to a good account a few months afterwards at Banker Hill, and Sullivan and Langdon took their seats in the following May in the second Congress, at Philadelphia. On the 22d of June, 1775, Sullivan was appointed a brigadier-general, and rei^igning his seat in the legislative body, he proceeded immediately to join the commander- in-chief at Cambridge. There he was actively employed in disciplining the forces and obtaining supplies. On the 5th of August he addressed a letter to the committee of safety in New Hampshire, advising them that the army, in the immediate presence of the enemy, had not enough powder to fiirnish each man half a pound. On ascertaining this fact, he says that Washington <' was so struck that he did not utter a word for half an hour." Every one was equally surprised. Messengers were despatched to all the south- ern colonies to draw on their public stores, and he entreats the committee to forget all colony distinctions, to consider the continental army devoted to destruction, unless imme- diately supplied, and to send at least twenty barrels with all possible speed. " Should this matter take air before a supply arrives," he says, " our army is ruined. You w:ll 196 JOHN SULLIVAN. need no words from me to induce an immeaiate compliance with this request : you can have no necessity for the pow- der in the country ; there is not the most distant probability or even possibility of an attack upon you." The army was inactive during the winter, and m the spring General Sullivan was ordered to Canada, and arrived early in June at the mouth of the Sorel, where he met the survivors of the expeditions of Montgomery and Arnold, under General Thompson, and assumed the com mand. He entertained an opinion for a short time, that he should be able to maintain a position in Canada, but the affair of Three Rivers soon dispelled the illusion, and he continued to lead his dispirited and sickly troops south- ward, until he reached the Isle La Motte, where he received the orders of General Schuyler to proceed to Crown Point. Here he was superseded by General Gates, who upon calling a council of war determined to retire to Fort Ticon- deroga. Olfended that a junior officer should be promoted over him, Sullivan left the army and proceeded to Philadel- phia with a view to the resignation of his commission. He bore with him an address signed by Hazen, Poor, Stark, St. Clair, and Wayne, the field officers who had served under him, in which they expressed a very high opinion of his personal character and of the ability with which, '< upon the late trying occasion, he had comforted, supported, and protected the shattered remains of a debi- litated army." After some conversation with the presi- dent of Congress, in regard to the cause of the appoint- ment of Gates, he concluded to retain his commission. Upon the subject of Sullivan's fitness for the chief command, Washington about the same time transmitted a private letter to the president of Congress, in which he says, <'I think it my duty to observe that be is active, spirited, and zealously attached to the cause. That he does not want abilities, many members of Congress can testify ; but he has his wants, and he has his foibles. The latter are TAKEN PRISONER. 197 manifested in his little tincture of vanity, and iri an over- desire oi being popular, which now and then lead hiin into embarrassments. His wants are common to us all. He wants experience to move upon a large scale ; for the limited and contracted knowledge which any of us have in military matters stands in very little stead, and is greatly overbalanced by sound judgment, and some acquaintance with men and books, especially when accomjjanied by an enterprising genius, which I must do General Sullivan the justice to say I think he possesses." Sullivan now joined the army under Washington, and on the 9th of August was created a major-general. At this time the British force on Staten Island amounted to twenty-four thousand men, and it was expected that it would immediately attack New York. The Americans, far inferior in numbers and aj)})ointments, were chiefly on New York island, but a portion of them were in the op- posite town of Brooklyn, where extensive works had been erected under the supervision of General Greene, who about the middle of the month was compelled by severe indisposition to relinquish the command, and w-as succeeded by Sullivan. On the 22d, ten thousand of the enemy landed on Long Island, to dislodge the Americans. Putnam had assumed the command, and had under him, besides Sullivan, Lord Stirling. On the night of the 25th, it was ascertained that the British under General Grant were ap- proaching along the road nearest the bay, and Stiiliii^' was despatched to oppose them with two regiments. Sul- livan meantime marched down the road farther inland to Flatbush, and before daylight was surprised to find that General Clinton with the British right wing had gained his rear by a pass which was to have been guarded by the Long Island militia, stationed at Jamaica. With the English troops between him and the main body of the Americans, and before him a large force of Hessians under De Heister, he quickly perceived that his situation "wa? 17* 198 JOHN SULLIVAN. nopeless, unless on one side or the other he could cut his way by a desperate effort ; but after swaying an hour or more between the two divisions of the enemy, he was compelled to surrender, though a small portion of his regiment, with determined energy, forced a passage through the British ranks and regained the centre at Brooklyn. Stirling also, after a warm conflict, was made a prisoner. Washington went over from New York on the 29th, to learn the full extent of the disaster ; and in the night, while the British were so near that the cries of the sentinels were heard distinctly within the American lines, succeeded, under cover of the darkness, in withdrawing the remainder of the troops across East River into New York. Our loss in this engagement, in killed, wounded, and pri- soners, was more than one thousand, and the entire army on Long Island would have been conquered if the British had attempted on the 28th to follow up their victory, or if the retreat of the following night had been attempted by a less able leader or under less providential circumstances. Sullivan did not long remain a prisoner. Lord Howe, the British commander-in-chief, ever sincerely desirous of a peace, sent him on parole with a hopeless message to Congress, and in a short time after he was exchanged for General Prescott. By the middle of October, it became necessary for the Americans to abandon New York, and the army, in four divisions, under Generals Lee, Sullivan, Heath, and Lin- coln, retreated toward the upper part of the island, and after the capture of Fort Washington and the abandon- ment of Fort Lee, was driven across New Jersey, and hovered in the vicinity of Philadelphia, in anticipation of an attack upon that city. In the actions of Trenton and Princeton, so glorious in themselves and in their conse- quences, and indeed through all the winter, Sullivan was actively and honourably, though not conspicuously en gaged. ATTACK ON STATEN ISLAND. 199 The intentions of the British commander-in-chief, thu following season, were shrouded in mystery, but all his. movements were closely watched by Washington, whose troops were kept on the alert to meet the promise of every new sign given by the enemy. Sullivan and Stirling weie at one time despatched to Peekskill, on the Hudson ; but the entrance of the British fleet into the Chesapeake, about tlie middle of August, occasioned their recall, and the American army was concentrated at Germantown, with the exception of Sullivan's division, which was stationed at Hanover in New Jersey. It was while he was here that Sullivan set on foot his expedition against Staten Island, where the British general had left a sufficient number of regulars and provincials, to vex and despoil the people of East Jersey, Long Island, and the highlands of the Hud- son. On the 21st of August, with a thousand picked men from the regiments of Smallwood and Deborre, he marched to Elizabethtown, where he was joined by the regiment? of Dayton and Ogden, and several companies of militia. The Tories were the objects of attack ; the troops, in two parties, reached the island before daybreak, on the 22d, without being discovered ; Colonel Ogden succeeded in making prisoners of the greater portion of Colonel Law- rence's detachment of one hundred and fifty provincials, near the Old Blazing Star Ferry ; Sullivan, with Deborre, assailed another party, but was less fortunate, making only about forty prisoners ; and Smallwood, who had charge of a third attack, took but two or three. Sullivan, Small- wood, and Deborre, proceeded with their captives towards the Old Blazing Star to join Ogden, of whom they had heard nothing since their separation on the Jersey shore ; but he had already disembarked with his prisoners when they arrived; and Sullivan's boats, w'hich he had ordered to meet him there, were not in sight ; and before he could quit the island with all his men, his rear-guard was cap- tared by General Campbell, who had started at the first 200 JOHN SULLIVAN. alarm and pressed him closely in his retreat. The num- ber of British prisoners secured was about one hundred and fifty, and General Sullivan reported his loss at thir- teen killed and thirty-six prisoners ; but the American loss was by others thought to be much larger. The following letter, which has not before been pub- lished, was soon after addressed to Colonel Warren, by Major John Taylor : it gives an account of the expedition, and furnishes a key to that dissatisfaction with the con- duct of Sullivan which resulted in an investigation by a court of inquiry : " Hanover, Aug. 24, 1777. '< Dear Colonel, — I am this moment returned from an expedition to Staten Island, the issue of which has been rather unfortunate. On Thursday last we marched from Hanover, at four o'clock p. m., and coniinued our march, with little or no intermission, to Walstead's Point, where we arrived at three o'clock in the morning, having marched twenty-two miles. We immediately began to cross the Sound, but there being only five boats, we did not all get over till near simrise. Colonel Ogden had crossed at the Old Blazing Star, with about five hundred men, the same morning. His men, and the separated brigades of our division, attacked three different parts of the enemy before six. Each attack proved successful. Colo- nel Ogden, who had got over by daybreak, completely sur- prised the enemy, killed a few, and made one hundred prisoners. Deborre's brigade, which Sullivan commanded in person, killed about five, and made near thirty prison- ers. General Stnallwood had very little fortune in getting prisoners, — the enemy having received intelligence of his coming early enough to scramble off. Thus matters stood at nine o'clock, when our two brigades joined again, and marched off to the Old Blazing Star, to recross, where Ogden and his party had crossed and returned. The main body of the enemy was then discovered to be lurk- MAJOR Taylor's letter. 201 ing on our flanks ; but evidently with no intention of coming to action. We marched on to the Old Blazing Star, and began to cross, but before we had got all our men over, the enemy came up and attacked our rear, of about one hundred and fifty, who were on that side. Our people behaved bravely, and several times drove the ene- my from the charge ; but all their ammunition being gone, they dispersed; some swam the river, and the rest were taken. We lost but very few men except the prisoners, but the enemy must have had at least one hundred killed and wounded. Among the prisoners, were Colonel An- till. Major Woodson, Major Stewart, Major Hilliard, and Duffy. Captain Herron, Lieutenant Campbell, Lieuten- ant Anderson, and Ensign Lee, were not mentioned with a flag which they sent out, proposing an exchange. I conjecture they are killed. Colonel Anlill was not with the list of those who wished to be exchanged, and the officers said he did not choose to return. The misfortunes which attended the expedition were numerous and ruin- ous. I will, if possible, enumerate them. It was unfor- tunate that the march, of near thirty miles, before we be- gan the attack, should fatigue our men; it was unfortunate that instead of returning by the way we crossed, which was short, we should march ten miles farther, to the Star, which made the number of miles from our camp, with our manoeuvres on the island, at least forty ; it was very unfortunate that we continued to march without halting, by which means we had a rear of six miles ; it was un- fortunate that we observed no order in our retreat — that every soldier should be allowed to plunder and get strag- gled all over the island ; it was unfortunate that we did not attack the main body of the enemy, who evidently acknowledged our superiority by avoiding us, and as evi- dently discovered their intention of attacking our rear, by hovering on our flanks ; it was very unfortunate that only «»bout thirty light infantry of our regiment composed the 202 JOHN SULLIVAN. rear, by which means, all the officers of Herron's compaii} were lost, and the rest, knowing their situation, and hav- ing no wagons, could not bring off the sick ; it was un- fortunate that orders were sent to the upper ferry, to have the boats brought down by two private soldiers, which coming through an improper channel, were disobeyed ; it was very unfortunate that no officers were appointed to superintend the embarkation and disembarkation of our troops in the four boats which Ogden had, by which means, as much time was lost in the delay on the other side as would have secured a safe passage : for that which was every man's business was attended to by none ; it was unfortunate that many plundered horses were brought over, which produced much delay ; it was very unfortu- nate we had no cannon, and that we marched down into the marsh opposite the enemy, where two of our men had their brains knocked out with their field-pieces ; it was very unfortunate that we had nothing to eat for near forty- hree hours, and were marching most of the time, which did such injury to the troops, that at one time, yesterday, Deborre's brigade could not muster above forty men. My arithmetic will not serve for the whole enumeration : I will therefore halt here. By the enemy's return, they have a hundred and thirty prisoners of ours ; but you may be assured we shall not get off under two hundred. Seve- ral field-officers and commanders fell into our hands, and the general talks of an exchange. <' Figure to yourself the situation we are in, then hear that we are to march in two or three days to the south- ward, and wish, but do not hope, to see many of us come forward. I wish, my dear colonel, you could join us ; your presence is absolutely necessary to reclaim that order which we have been gradually losing ever since you left us. I am so much fatigued that I am wholly unable to write to Mr. Penn ; I should therefore be obliged to you to show him this letter ; and tell him further, that if C«.«- COLONEL OGDEN's LETTER. 203 gress do not make an inquiry into this affair, they will not do their duty to their constituents. I am, dear sir, <' Your most humble servant, " John Taylor." Tliis letter was regarded by Sullivan and his friends as an ebullition of personal enmity. The court of inquiry, which was held immediately after the battle of Brandy wine, honourably acquitted him, and was unanimously of opinion that the expedition was feasible and promised considerable advantages ; that it was well planned ; and that it would have been perfectly successful but for some accidents which were beyond both the power and the foresight of the commanding general. Another original letter, ad- dressed to Sullivan by Colonel Ogden, will serve as an antidote to Major Taylor's : <' Dear Sir, — As you are, in my opinion, very unjustly censured for your conduct respecting the Staten Island expedition, I cannot, in justice to you, or the public ser vice, omit presenting you with my narrative of the affair, which, if you please, you may make public. I do not mean to call in question the proceedings of the honourable Congress ; I doubt not they have been imposed on by misrepresentations of facts ; otherwise they would not have ordered a court of inquiry. I am certain it is not their intention to injure the character of an officer for be- ing successful. The plan ordered by you, after consult- ing those gentlemen in whom you could confide, who were best acquainted with the island, and the situation of the enemy, was this — That Generals Smallwood and De- borre should cross at Halstead's Point, the former to at- tack Buskirk, at the Dutch church, and the latter Barton, at the New Blazing Star. I was to cross at the old Blaz- ing Star, with the first and third Jersey regiments, and a part of the militia, and attack the regiments of Lawrence, « Daugan, and Atien, which, if I found an even match, I 201 JOHN SULLIVAN. was to taki post on advantageous ground, and wait until I was supported by a regiment from General Deborre, which regiment, in case I drove the enemy, was to head them and pick up stragglers. One regiment from Gene- ral Smallwood was to be left for the same purpose at the cross-road above, and to take up those that should escape General Deborre, after which the whole division was to join and march to where I had crossed, and where you were to re-cross. This plan appeared to me well con- cocted, and perfectly consistent. The officers on my part performed every duty required or expected. They routed the enemy, and made many of them prisoners, with very little loss. How far the officers of your division executed their part, I cannot pretend to say. Though this I am certain of, that the loss of most of the men was owing to the carelessness of the officers commanding platoons, in suffering their men to fall out of their places. Those that were lost with the rear-guard sold themselves dear, and their being exposed was unavoidable. " I am, sir, with respect and esteem, " Your humble servant, <' M. Ogden." When the report of the court of inquiry was presented to Congress, it was resolved by that body that the re- sult, so honourable to the character of General Sullivan, was highly pleasing to that body, and that the opinion of the court should be published, in justification of that offi- cer's character. General Sullivan arrived in the vicinity of Philadelphia about the first of September. Sir William Howe had al- ready landed, at the head of the Elk, in Maryland, with eighteen thousand men, and though the American array was very inferior, in numbers, appointments, and condi- tion, Washington determined to hazard a battle. He at first placed himself in the enemy's path, below Wilming- ton, bu' after some si^irmishing between Maxwell's corp% BATTLE OF BRANDY WINE 205 and tke British light troops, it became apparent that th*- British general's design was to turn his right and cut ofl his communication with Philadelphia, and he then with- drew from his position, and crossing to the left of the Brandywine, on the evening of the 9th, established his rentre at Chad's Ford, twenty-five miles from the city. At Pyles's Ford, a mile and a half below, was the left wing ; two miles above, near Brinton's Ford, with lighi troops and videttes extending a considerable distance fur- ther, was the right, under Sullivan ; and Greene was sta- tioned in the rear of the centre with a reserve. At day- break, on the morning of the 11th, Generals Knyphausen and Grant began their advance from the British head-quar- ters at Kennett Square, General Maxwell retiring before them, till about ten o'clock, when they reached the high- ground on the right bank of the Brandywine, opposite and in full view of the American centre, upon which, without attempting to cross, they began a cannonade. Sullivan, meantime, had been directed to guard the stream as far up as Buffenton's Ford, and he confined his attention to that and the points below, not knowing that there were any accessible fords above. Soon after eleven o'clock, however, he received a message from Colonel Ross, ad- vising him that a large body of the enemy, supposed to be immediately under the command of Sir William Howe, was crossing still higher up with a park of artillery. This information turned out to be correct. The main body of the British army, guided by the infamous Tory, Joseph Galloway, who was intimately acquainted both with the topography of the country, and the almost universal disaf- fection of the people, had with extraordinary secrecy at an early hour defiled to the left, and proceeded to fords, the existence of which was unknown to the American general, which it was now passing. Sullivan sent the in- formation down to Washington, who directed him to at- tack immediately the approaching foe : but while he was Vol. I. 18 206 JOHN SULLIVAN. p.*epanng to do so, difTerent information, whicli seemnd perfenily reliable, was received from the point where the British were reported to have been seen, and Washington hastened to countermand the order. Thus the army re- mained for several hours, the centre only engaged, oppos- ing the assault of Knyphausen, and in perfect ignorance of the chief movement of the enemy. It was near two o'clock before it was finally well understood that Howe and Cornwallis had succeeded in crossing at Jelfrey's Ford and were in full march upon the American right. A change of disjiosilion was instantly made, and Sulli- van's division was in the act of forming, on high ground near Birmingham meeting-house, when it was attacked by Cornwallis. ])i'l)()rre's brigade quickly gave way, and was thrown into confusion. Sullivan vainly endeavoured to rally it, and then allempted with his artillery to sustain those who kej)t their ground ; but after maintaining the action with great s])iril and bravery for an hour and a half he was compelled to retreat. Cieneral Wayne, meantime, had been driven back from Chad's Ford by the superior numbers of Knyphausen, who advanced to force the ])as- sage as soon as he heard of the successful movement of the British upon the American right wing ; Greene brought nito the battle his reserve, to cover the retreat of Sullivan, and the scattered (orccs of the right and centre,, sustained the engagement with activity until night, when they retired without molestation, with their ar;illery and baggage. In the battle of Brandywine were Washington, Wayne, Greene, Sidlivan, Lafayette, Stirling, Hamilton, and otliers of distinction, and General Heath well observes, that « there was no contest during the war in which the v r.ole army appears to have been so entirely engaged." They were attacked at a moment in which no army can offer successful resistance; and the British were too fatigued to follow up tneir success. After leaving the meeting-house, tJiere is no ground or space for a battle : the road is oaf' BATTLE OF GERM ANT OWN 207 row, the country hilly, and even now coveri'd with woods A fight could only take place by detachments, and it was probably in this way that this was waged, which will ac- count for the small number killed and wounded, and for the slight effect the defeat had on the spirits of the offi- cers and men. They collected at Chester during the night, marched to Philadelphia the next day, and began soon after a series of fresh attacks upon the enemy. The armies met again on the Lancaster road, and a contest was commenced, when a sudden and a heavy fail of rain com- pelled the Americans to retire. On the 19th Washington prepared to dispute the passage of the Schuylkill, but the British general by a sudden movement crossed with- out opposition at a lower point, and gaining his rear, en- tered Philadelphia and Germantown on the 26th of Sep- tember. The misfortunes at lirandywine were popularly charged upon Sullivan, and his conduct before and during the battle was investigated by order of Congr(!Ss, but he was honourably acquitted by a court of inquiry. Wash- ington declared that his whole conduct, so far as he could judge of it, was " S})irited and active," and Lafayette wrote that " such courage as he showed that day will always deserve the praises of every one." Washington in a few days took post at Skippack's Creek, about fourteen miles from Germantown, and on the evening of the third of October put his troojjs in mo- tion with the design of surprising the main body of the enemy at that ])lace. Sidlivan and Wayne, the next morning, just after daybreak, leading the princ.i})al attack, completely sur})rised the enemy, and soon drove thein more than a mile from the scene of their first encounter. V^ictory seemed to be certain, when, in the dense fog which prevailed, some mistakes occurred, a degree of confusion ensued, the course of success was checked, and the Americans retreated from the ficdd. This import- ant battle has been particularly described in previous 20b JOHN SULLIVAN, parts of the present work,* and it is here necessary only to o})serve that General Sullivan distinguished himself by the utmost intrepidity and bravery. The commander-in- chief remarked in his official account of the action : " In justice to General Sullivan and the whole right wing of the army, whose conduct I had an opportunity of observ- ing, as they acted immediately under my eye, I have the pleasure to inform you that both officers and men be- haved with a degree of gallantry that did them the high- est honour." After the army went into winter quarters at Valley Forge, General Sullivan for a time entertained an inten- tion of resigning. He had laboured assiduously for the good of the country in every situation in which he had been placed, and had been the object of more than a common share of ungenerous attack ; while his private affairs, from long neglect, were in a most unfortunate con- dition. Writing to Washington in the early part of 1778, for a short leave of absence, he says : " It would be te- dious for me to mention my necessities in full. Let it suffice to say that I have exhausted my store of cash at home. I prohibited my clerk from calling in the money I had out on interest when the war began, as I knew the people would be sufficiently distressed without paying debts. My pay in the army has by no means made up for my losses and expenses. I need not remind your Ex- cellency how far sixteen eightpences will fall short of maintaining my family, or remind you of my having been four times robbed by the British troops, viz : at New York, Long Island, New Rochelle, and Peekskill. This has reduced me so far that I have not clothes sufficient for another campaign, nor will ray pay enable me to pur- chase. My own private fortune must make up my losses, and enable me in future to keep the field. This caniio< • See article Washington, i. 41. ABKlVAL OF d'eSTAING. 209 be done while I remain here." At the request of the CO nmander-in-chief, however, Sullivan consented to re- main, and early in the following month he was appointeu to the important separate command of the forces in Rhode Island. The British at this time had six thousand men at New- port, well protected by various fortifications, and Gene- ral Sullivan took up his head-quarters at Providence, with a very inferior force. The hopes of the Americans had been excited by intelligence of the alliance with France, and in July they were cheered with news of the arrival of Count d'Estaing with twelve ships of the line and twelve frigates, before the capes of the Delaware. Wash- ington immediately entered into communication with the French admiral, and on the 17th of July, wrote to Gene- ral Sullivan to augment his force to five thousand men, if it were possible, from the New England states, and on the 22d, despatched Lafayette and Greene with two bri- gades to his assistance ; while D'Estaing set sail for the waters near Newport, where he arrived on the 29th, and received Sullivan to a personal conference on board his ship, where a plan of operations was concerted. The French troops, four thousand, were to land on the western side of the island, and the Americans, at the same time, approaching by way of Tiverton, were to land on the opposite side, under cover of the guns of a frigate. A portion of the reinforcements despatched by the com- mander-in-chief not arriving as soon as they were ex- pected, some delay occurred, but it was finally deter- mined that the attack should take place on the 10th of August ; and on the 8th the French fleet passed up the i'.hannel without injury from the enemy's batteries, and the British commander withdrew his forces within their lines, in anticipation of the descent of the two armies upon the town. But when every thing was ready, and Diomised success, the British fleet under Lord Howe was 18* O 210 JOHN SULLIVAN. seen approaching the harbour, and the French admiral, paying no attention to the arrangements into whicli he had entered, put to sea. The disappointment and vexa- tion caused by this unlooked-for proceeding were propor- tioned to the sanguine excitement with which they had looked for an engagement. General Sullivan, however, soon decided to undertake the siege of Newport with his independent army, which was now increased by the arrival of militia to ten thousand men ; and orders were issued for the march of his forces on the morning of the 12th. But his plans were again prevented : on the night of the 11th a violent storm arose, which continued with unabated fiiry for three days, during which the troops were nearly all constantly exposed to the rain and wind, their health so impaired that a considerable number of them died, and their ammunition rendered useless. On the 15th, the sky became clear, and General Sullivan with his exhausted army took position within two miles of Newport, and opened a cannonade upon the fortifications, which were found, however, to be too strong to be car- ried without the aid of the fleet. Meanwhile both the French and British fleets had suf- fered severely in the storm, and were compelled to return to port. The ships of D'Estaing were seen off Newport on the 19th, and hopes of united action and success were again entertained. Generals Greene and Lafayette went on board the ship of the French admiral, and exhausted their powers of persuasion in the vain effort to induce him to aid in this critical moment : he declared that in case of disaster his instructions were to proceed to Boston for repairs, and announced to Sullivan, in a letter, his intention immediately to do so. The whole American army was ndignant, and all the principal officers, excej t Lafayette, signed a protest against his departure, as « de- rogatory to the honour of France, contrary to the inten- tions of his Most Christian Majesty, and to the interests REIREAT FROM NEWPORT. 211 of his nation, destructive in the highest degree to the wel- fare of the United States, and highly injurious to the alli- ance formed between the two countries." This protest was ill-advised, and increased the unfortunate alienation between the Americans and their allies, which was not allayed until the subject received the attention of Wash- ington, whose wise discretion alone was sufficient to restore amicable relations, and to soothe the excited feelings of the admiral and his officers. Upon the second with- drawal of the French fleet, the volunteers, whose continu- ance in the camp was dependent entirely upon their own pleasure, began to go away in masses, and in a few days General Sullivan had about him less than seven thou- sand men, not one fourth of whom had ever been in ac- tion ; and as an attack upon the intrenchments of the enemy, defended by an equal number of experienced troops, was now out of the question, it was determined to relinquish the enterprise, and remove to a point on the northern part of the island, whence the main land might be reached with ease and safety. The retreat commenced on the night of the 28th, the rear of the army being covered by light parties under Colonels Laurens and Livingston ; and early the next morning Sir Robert Pigot, the British commander, started in pursuit, and soon attacked the rear guard, who maintained their ground gallantly until ordered to fall back upon the main body, who had reached the works at Tiverton. General Pigot then attacked the American left, under General Glover, by whom he was repulsed, upon which he took up a position about a mile from the Hues, on Quaker Hill, and at nine o'clock opened a cannonade. The Americans were now drawn up in three columns, the first in front of the works on Butt's Hill, the second in the rear of the hill, and the third about half a mile distant from the first, with a re- doubt in front, a little to the right, and strong defences in the rear. While the firing was kept up between the 212 JOHN SULLIVAN. opposing lines, :\vo British ships of war and several smaller vessels gained a station opposite the American right, but their guns were quickly silenced by batteries erected on the beach. At two o'clock General Pigot advanced and made a general attack, but was driven back after a short conflict, and the two armies confined them- selves for the remainder of that and the following day to a desultory cannonade ; and on the night of the 30th, General Sullivan, having heard of the approach of Sir Henry Clinton with reinforcements from New York, sue- ceeded in making a masterly retreat to the main land, without loss or even discovery, and thus undoubtedly saved his entire army from capture. The conduct of General Sullivan throughout this expe- dition into Rhode Island was warmly approved by the wisest men of the country. "If lam a judge," remarked General Greene, in a letter* to a gentleman who had com- plained of it, " the expedition has been prudently and well conducted ; and I am confident there is not a general officer, from the commander-in-chief to the youngest in the field, who would have gone greater lengths to have given success to it, than General Sullivan. He is sensi- ble, active, ambitious, brave, and persevering in his tem- per ; and the object was sufficiently important to make him despise every difficulty opposed to his success, as far as he was at liberty to consult his reputation ; but the public good is of more importance than personal glory, and the one is not to be gratified at the risk and expense of the other." On the 17th of September the thanks of Congress were voted to General Sullivan and the officers and soldiers under his command for their conduct in the action of the 29th of August, and the retreat of the next- night was highly approved. The legislatures of New Hampshire and Rhode Island also expressed in an appro- * Johnson's Life of Greene, vol. i. p. 198. EXPEDITION AGAINST THE IROQUOIS. 213 priate manner their sense of General Sullivan's zeal, dis cretion, and good conduct in the campaign. General Sullivan remained in command in Rhode Island until the spring of 1779, but there were in this period no further military movements of importance ; and in the summer of this year he was selected by General Washington to lead an army against the great Indian confederacy of the Iroquois, consisting of the Mohawks, Oneidas, Onondagas, Cayugas, Senecas, and Tusca- roras, whose terrible and continued outrages upon the north-western frontier, instigated and encouraged by the British, it was found necessary to punish with the most exemplary severity. The country inhabited by the Iro- quois comprised northern Pennsylvania and western New York, one of the richest and most beautiful regions of the Union. Accompanied by the brigades of Maxwell, Poor, and Hand, Proctor's artillery, and a corps of riflemen, General Sullivan proceeded on the 31st of June, along the Susquehannah towards Wyoming, and on the 11th of July reached the confluence of that river with the Tioga, near which a fortress was erected and named Fort Sulli- van, where he awaited the arrival of General Clinton, who was approaching with sixteen hundred men from Sche- nectady, by the Mohawk and the southern tier of lakes. General Clinton reached the camp with his brigade on the 22d of August ; on the 28th the army, now consisting of about five thousand men, began its march, and on the third day after came near Newtown, (now Elmira,) where the celebrated chieftain Brant, or Thayendanegea, with Sir John Johnson, Captain Butler, and Captain Middleton, were stationed with a force of Indians, and British regu- lars and rangers, variously estimated at from eight to fif- teen hundred, whom they routed with considerable loss. They proceeded with little further opposition, between the Cayuga and Seneca lakes, by Geneva and Canan- daigua, and as fai west as the Genesee river, destroying 214 JOHN SULLIVAN. numerous villages, fields of corn, orchards of fruit trees, and all descriptions of cattle, until the country was en- tirely laid waste, and the Indians were driven, utterly dis- heartened, to seek shelter and subsistence at the British fortress of Niagara, where more died of disease than had perished by the sword. Upon the termination of this ex- pedition General Sullivan desired perniission to retire from the military service, and in November his resigua- tion was accepted by Congress, which passed a vote of thanks for his important aud long-continued services. He soon after recommenced the practice of the law, in which he was eminently successful. In 1780, he ac- cepted a seat in Congress, in which he remained during two sessions. He was several years attorney-general of New Hampshire, and was a member of the convention which formed her constitution, and president of that which adopted the constitution of the United States. He way president of the state from 1786 to 1789, and resigned that post in the latter year, to enter upon his duties as a justice of the Federal Court for the district of New Hamp- shire, whicli oilice he held until his death, which oc- curred at his residence in Durham, on the 23d of Janu- ary, 1795, when he was nearly fifty-five years of age. BRIGiVDIER-dKNEllAL HUGH MERCER. Onk hundred years ago, the British empire had a wide and peaceful sovereignty. Its metropolitan and colonial authority was secure and undisputed. The promises of a revolution, which had changed the tenure of the sovereign if not ascertained the rights of the subject, were realized in new limits to prerogative, new security to parliament, new impulse to industry, and new protection to the people. The sober reason of the British nation approved the ad- ministration of the government. But between this sober judgment, with all the strength which gratitude for these blessings gave it, and the affections of the people, there was still a struggle ; and the naturaliz:ed princes of the house of Brunswick, whom the revolution had placed upon the throne, from time to time were made to feel that sym- pathy for a family of exiled native princes was lurking in the bosoms of their subjects. In Scotland, bound to England by what was then thought an unnatural union, these sympathies were most active ; and the memory of her native princes, loyally to the name of Stuart — the sight of deserted palaces — a buried crown and sceptre, were cherished in the Scottish heart with devotion that burned not tlie less intensely because it burned in secret. There was scarcely a Highland dell or Lowland castle, which had not secret worshippers kneeling in proud devotion at an empty shrine. On the 19th July, 1745, a small armed vessel appeared ofl" the coast of Moidart. It came to anchor, and there landed on the Scottish shores a young and gallant prince. He came to claim what he proudly called \iis own, and he claimed it through the affections of loyal Scotland. The 315 216 HUGH M E U C i: R. banner which Charles Edward unfurled to an astonished people, on the hills of Gleufinnan, on the 19th August, 1745, was an emblem from which adversity had purged the stains with which an ancestry of tyrants had disiigured it; and to the forgiving eye of loyal enthusiasm it seemed to float in the light of brighter and better days — the sun- shine which the new dominion was to shed on^ darkened and opprcwssed Scotland. It is easy for what is called the enlightened intelligence of this day, to look back with contemptuous pity on the enthusiasm which promoted and sustained this wild at- tempt; but who, in the pride of historical presumption, — the insolence of doubt, will question the true chivalry and romantic patriotism of the many gallant men, who, either without pausing to consider, or in defiance of their better judgment, espoused Charles Edward's cause, and hazard- ed their lives, — for the dread penalties of treason hung over all, the high and the low, the chieftain and the clans- man, who shared in the bold effort of desperate enthusiasm. The brief history of this enterprise, the invading march, the sullen retreat, its young leader's rapid alternations of hope, of confidence and despair, justified by miracu- lous victories and bloody reverses, need not here be told. It is part of Scotland's household history, and is embalmed in the brightest and most beautiful romance of Scotland's master mind. On the night of the I5th April, 1746, two gallant armies were stretched in uneasy slumber on the moors of Cullo- den ; the one a remnant of those enthusiasts, who, in a cause which their gallantry enobled, had carried terror to the centre of the empire ; the other a well disciplined, well appointed army, led to sure victory by an experienced leader, and restless to vvash away the discredit which re- cent defeat had thrown upon them. On either side of thai array was more than one brave man, destined to shed his blood in other conflicts and on a distant soil. lu MERCER EMBARKS FOR AMERICA. 217 the British army was Sir Peter Halket, wiio perished in Braddock's defeat, on the banks of the Monongahela. Marching to the Pretender's standard was the young Mas- ter of Lovat, afterwards Major-General Fraser, who now rests in an unknown grave on the heights of Saratoga. At the head of an English regiment, was Colonel James Wolfe, the hero of Louisburg and Quebec — and, by one of the Highland watchlires, in Charles Edward's camp, there lay a stripling of twenty-three years of age — ■ a youth who had left the peaceful occupation for which he was educated, to serve a bloody apprenticeship in the rebel cause. This young man was Hugh Mercer, then an assistant surgeon in the Highland army. Every reader knows the horrors of the next day. It was Scotland's second Flodden field. The blood of her bravest sons was poured out like water, the Prince for whom their blood was generously shed became a pro- scribed wanderer, and his followers, those who escaped the carnage of that dark day, and the bloody penalties of the British law, like their Prince, were forced to seek safety in exile. Early in the following year, Mercer bade Scotland an eternal farewell, and embarked at Leith in a vessel bound to Philadelphia. Of the circumstances of his emigration and arrival, nothing is known except that he left his native country in consequence of participation in the rebellion, and that he settled on what was then considered the west- ern frontier of this province, near the present village of Mercersburg, in Franklin county. Tradition has not told us the motives of this remote and secluded residence, nor do we know in what occupalion, or with what aim, Mer- cej was engaged, till we find him a captain in the provin- cial forces which were raised on the breaking out of the French and Indian war of 1755. The brief experience of irregular military life acquired Vol. I. 19 218 HUGH MERCER. in Charles Edward's enterprise was of value to a frontier settler, whose life was one of constant vigilance and ex- posure. For a series of years prior to the continental war, the Indian tribes on our w-estern frontiers, stimulated by the artifices of French emissaries, were making constant aggressions on the settlements. The aid of the raetropo- liian government had been invoked and afforded, and Braddock's ill-starred enterprise had shown the inelh- cacy of regular warfare against savages, whose de- fiance of discipline seemed to be the secret of their strength. From the Susquehanna to the Alleghany the unbroken forest was tenanted by hostile tribes, and scarce- ly a sun went down upon the settlements without the ghire of some burning village, and the shrieks of women and children arising lo break the gloom and silence of the night, until at last the colonial legislature, harassed beyond endurance by these repeated inroads, determined to raise an adequate force, and by the vigour of their own arms give security to their citizens. The victorious result which ensued is worthy of especial remembrance. A battalion of three hundred men was or- ganized and equipped, and despatched under the com- mand of Colonel John Armstrong, to penetrate the Indian country, and strike a decisive blow on one of their most remote and important positions. The leader of this enterprise was one of the most re- markable men of his time. To fearless intrepidity of the highest cast, there was united in his character a strong sense of religious responsibility, that rarely blends with military sentiment. He belonged to that singular race of men, the Scottish Covenanters, in whom austerity was a high virtue, and who, in the conflicts to which persecution trained them, never drew the sword, or struck a mortal blow, without the confidence which enthusiasm seemed to give, that agencies higher and stronger than human MERCER WOUNDED AT KITTANING. 219 mfeans were battling in their behalf, and that their sword, whether bloodless or bloody, was always " the «word of the Lord." Educated in these sentiments, Joiin Arm- strong never swerved from them. He was foremost in his country's ranks, whether her cause was defence against a foreign foe, or revolt against oppression — in the colonial conflicts as well as in the war of the Revolution. He was always known to kneel in humble devotion and earnest prayer before he went into battle, and never seemed to doubt in the midst of the battle's fury that the work of blood was sanctified to some high purpose. Under this leader did young Mercer — for a common sympathy, at least on this soil, uniled the Jacobite and the Cameronian — fight his first American battle ; and it was in the arms of the son of this his ancient general, that he was carried mortally wounded from the bloody field of Princeton. The enterprise of the Pennsylvania troops in 1756, was one of peculiar interest. They marched from Fort Shirley to the Alleghany river, through a country known to be hostile, and reached the Indian town of Kitlaning, within twenty-five miles of the French garrison of Fort Du Quesne, without the enemy being aware of their approach. The troops were immediately, about the dawn of day, led to the assault, and after a short and bloody conflict, in which most of the principal Indian chiefs were killed, and nearly every officer of rank among the provincials wounded, the town was carried by storm and utterly destroyed. During the assault, Mercer was severely wounded, and being obliged to retire to the rear of the column, in the confiision incident to such warfare, he became separated from his men on the retreat, and found himself on the night of the battle, alone and wounded, and obliged to regain the settlements with no other guidance than that which nature gives to the solitary wanderer — the stars of heaven and the winter garb of the forest. In the official report Wrade hy Colonel Armstrong is the following return : " Cap- 220 HUGH MERCER. lain Mercer's company — himself and one man wounded — seven killed — himself and ensign are missing.'' But the spirit of the Scottish soldier, of one who had witnessed more ghastly scenes of carnage, and encountered worse perils than the forest threatened, in the flight to Inverness when Christian savages tracked their flying victims, did not sink ; but though alone, faint with loss of blood and with a shattered arm, after reposing for a few hours on the field of recent conflict, he commenced his desolate pilgrim- age. For days and weeks did he wander through the forest, dependent for sustenance on its roots and berries, until at last striking the waters which empty into the Po- tomac, he was enabled, when exhausted nature seemed just about to sink, to reach Fort Cumberland. On the reorganization of the provincial forces in 1758, when the daring spirit of the great man at the head of the English ministry seemed to be infused into every branch of the public service. Mercer, promoted to the rank of a lieutenant-colonel, accompanied the army of General Forbes, and being present at the reduction of Fort Du Quesne, was left by the commander-in-chief in charge of that important post. It was on this expedition that he became acquainted with Washington, then a colonel in the Virginia line, an acquaintance which soon ripened into intimacy, and exercised so vast an influence on his future career. How perilous a trust was confided to Colonel Mercer, and how faithfully and successfully he discharged it, may be inferred from Washington's ominous declara- tion in a letter to Governor Fauquier, in December, 1758. " The general has in his letters," says he, " told you what garrison he proposed to leave at Fort Du Quesne, but the want of provisions rendered it impossible to leave more than two hundred men in all ; and these must I fear aban- don the place or perish. Our men left there are in such a miserable condition, having hardly rags to cover their nakedness, and exposed to the inclemency of the wealhef CONCORD OF THE COLONIES. 221 in this rigorous season, that sickness, death, and desertion, if they are not speedily supplied, must destroy them." Mercer maintained the post and remained with the garrison till it was relieved, when he retired from the service, and having permanently fixed his residence at Fredericksburg, in Virginia, resumed the practice of his profession. We now approach the opening of the great chapter of American history. The repose which the colonies enjoyed between the peace of 17G3 and the beginning of the Revolution, was short and restless. The young nation lay, not in the slum- ber of exhaustion, but in the fitful sleep which the con- sciousness of a great futurity allows. It slept too with arms by its side, and there needed but the trumpet's feeblest note to arouse it to an action. The involuntary concord of the colonies at the outbreak of the Revolution is one of its most singular characteristics. It was a concord that transcended all mere political relations — it was beyond and above all political union. It was the instinctive ap- preciation of common right, the quick sense of common injury. There seemed to be but one frame, and when the ijand of tyranny was rudely laid on a single member, the whole system quivered beneath the contact, and braced itself to resistance. The three great colonies, Virginia, Massachusetts, ana Pennsylvania, differing in manners, habits, and opinions on most topics, on this of resistance knew no discord ; ano the signal had scarcely been lighted at Lexington and Bunker Hill, when an answering fire started upwards from the shores of the Potomac. The battle of Lexington was brought on 19th April, 1775, and on the 25th, six days later, the following cha- racteristic letter was written to Colonel Washington, then by common consent regarded as the leader of all the Vir- ginia forces, should she raise the standard of revolt. It li aated at Fredericksburg. 19* '2-2Z HUGH MERCER. « By intelligence received from Willianisburg it appears that Captain Collins, of his majesty's navy, at the head of fifteen marines, carried off the powder from the magazine of that city, on the night of Thursday last, and conveyed it on board his vessel, by order of the governor. The gentlemen of the independent company of this town think this first public insult is not to be tamely submitted to, and determine, with your approbation, to join any other bodies of armed men who are willing to appear in support of the honour of Virginia, as well as to secure the military stores yet remaining in the magazine. It is proposed to march from hence on Saturday next for Williamsburg, properly accoutred as light-horsemen. Expresses are sent off to inform the commanding officers of companies in the adja- cent counties of this our resolution, and we shall wait prepared for your instructions and their assistance. " Hugh Mercer. " George Weedon. " Alex'r. Spottswood. "John Willis." On the 29th, the volunteers of Albemarle — for the chivalry of Virginia was all in arms — sent Washington a letter to the same effect, bearing the names of Gilmer — a name honoured then and honoured now — of Lewis, and Marks. Its postscript was, "We shall stand under arras till we have your answer." In June, 1775, George W^ashington was chosen com- mander-in-chief, and early in the following year, the Ame- rican army then being in the neighbourhood of New York, Colonel Mercer received from Congress his commission as a brigadier-general. It is not improbable that his services were solicited at this juncture at the instance of Washing- ton himself, as it appears from his correspondence, that the commander-in-chief repaired to Philadelphia to concert with Congress plans for ihe organization of the army, and REFLECTIONS ON THE TIMES. 223 that he remained there until the day after the date of Mer- cer's commission, and those of two others of his most valued friends. General Mercer soon left, and for ever, his peaceful home, his young wife and children, and joined the army at New York. And now before approaching the closing scenes of an eventful life, let us pause, and, writing for «citizens of a peaceful age, let us ask all to think gratefully of the contrast of the present to the past. In the Revolution, there was no prosperous industry, — no steady pursuit, — no systematic economy. The frame of society was dis- located. The cloud of civil war hung low upon the land, and if a ray of sunlight victory sometimes broke forth to cheer the earth, it was answered by a lurid flash from dark masses impending elsewhere. There was no rest in the Revolution, and the gentle dawn of a peaceful Sabbath rarely brightened on the Christian heart. The only prayer which rose to Heaven was the prayer of the armed sentinel. Yet man, American man, repined not, — • home was abandoned, — families separated, — the husband and father left his fireside without a murmur. The selfish sentiment of this day, that the first duty of a citizen is to himself and his own interests, no one then dared avow. The native hue of resolution was sicklied with no pale cast of those poor thoughts which make even the virtue of God's ministers a cloistered virtue. The voice of God's ministers spoke from the puljtit boldly to the men of the Revolution, and uttered, within the walls of Congress, the prayer of humble confidence to the God of righteous bat- tles. To a Jesuit, from St. Omers, was confided a public trust which he faithfully and gratefully discharged. The most eloquent man, after John Adams and Patrick Henry. in the old Congress, was a Scottish Presbyterian divine, whose intellect, strengthened in the fierce polemics of a Glasgow synod, had full sway and vast influence in the anxious deliberations of revolutionary council. No mo- 224 HUGH MERCER. nastin scruple kef t these men from the performance of f.neit pul)lic duties. The tale of those endurances and sacrifices has yet to be written. Our military and civil history is studied and understood, but how few are there who know any thing of that household story of self-immolation and devotion, which, as a moral theme, makes the chief value of the Revolution's annals. There is many a rich tradition, — the yet unwritten story of those who, like Mercer, never, from the commencement of the struggle, left their country's service ; generous and unrewarded men, who devoted their prime of life, as he did, and, with broken spirits and disappointed hopes, lay down in early graves. And rich indeed will be our recompense, if these pages, or any one word upon them, shall give vigour to the interest that America should feel in her early history, and new life to the great principle of republican loyalty, which, binding us together by veneration of a glorious ancestry, is the republic's best security. The first campaign in which General Mercer participated in the continental service, was crowded with incidents of high interest. It immediately preceded the great change in our military policy, which made the war one of otfensive enterprise, and to no one more than to him is that change attributable. The battle on Long Island, the retreat to New York, the evacuation of that city, contrary to the ad- vice of Mercer, who was perhaps wisely overruled, and of Greene whose bold counsel it was to burn the city to the ground, the battle of White Plains, the fall of Fort Wash- ington, the projected attack on Staten Island confided to Mercer, and the retreat through New Jersey, were the prominent incidents of this eventful period. Throughout it all, Mercer was in active service under the immediate orders of the commander-in-chief, to whose affections he was closely endeared. As early as the 8th of December, 1776, the broken re- CHARACTER OF WASHINGTON. 225 mains of the American array had taken their last desperate position on the western bank of the Delaware, and giooni} and perplexed were its desponding councils. A large and well appointed British army had driven the few troops that remained in service before them through New Jersey, and the river, rendered more formidable by the floating ice, appeared to be the only barrier to their farther advance. Congress, reduced in numbers, and broken in spirit, was losing its power of self-support, and Philadelphia, then the na;ion's capital, seemed destined to a certain fall. It was at a moment like this when, in worse than mid- nio^ht gloom, terror and perplexity seemed to sway the mind of man, that the influence of Washington was so sublimely realized. The ordinary virtue of the daring sol- dier was thrown into the shade by the rarer and brighter developments of his character; and Washington, at that moment of prevalent despair, himself desponding in spirit, but outwardly calm, collected, and resolute, the recipient of rash and timid counsels, the guardian of a broken and dispirited army, the supporter and best counsellor of Con- gress, who, in this moment of extremity threw all the du- ties of a sinking stale on him, is as fine a spectacle as the history of the world, ancient or modern, can exhibit. The annals of the Revolution have no period of gloom like this. Evil counsels and insubordination aggravated Washington's just solicitude. Phantoms and realities alike perplexed the public mind. On the 10th of Decem- ber, he wrote to General Lee a letter of almost desperate supplication to induce him with his troops instantly to join the main body of the army, and on the 14th, relying on its success, he intimated in a letter to Governor Trumbull his intention, if Lee joined him, to make an offensive move- ment on the enemy. On the day before, Lee, then sta- tioned at Basken Ridge, wrote to General Gates a letter, strongly characteristic of his ill-regulated mind, and of ^nat spirit of morbid jealousy which was his ruin. "11 1 P £26 HUGH MERCER. stay in tins province, I risk myself and army, and if T ac not stay, the province is lust for ever. I have neither guides, cavalry, medicines, money, shoes or stockings. Tories are in my front, rear, and on my flanks. The mass of the people is strangely contaminated ; in short, unless something turns up which I do not expect, we are lost. Congress has been weak to the last degree. As to what relates to yourself, if you think you can be in time to aid the general, I would have you by all means go. You will at least save your army. It is said the whigs are deter- mined to set fire to Philadelphia. If they strike this de- cisive blow the day will be our own, but unless it is done all chance of liberty in any part of the globe is for ever vanished." The ink was scarcely dry upon this letter when Lee was made prisoner in his quarters by a party of British dragoons, and the hopes of the commander-in-chief of his co-opera- tion entirely frustrated. The situation of Philadelphia at this dark hour, it is not easy for us in this peaceful day to realize. A British frigate and sloop of war were at anchor within the capes of the Delaware, and large bodies of Hessian and British troops were encamped wilhin a few miles, in New Jersey. "It was just dark," says a military traveller who witnessed the desolation, " when we entered Front street, and it appeared as if we were riding through a city of the dead. Such was the silence and stillness which prevailed, that the dropping of a stone would have been heard for several squares, and the hoofs of our horses resounded in all directions." On the 12th and 13th December, General Putnam, then in command at Philadelphia, issued his memorable orders, which tell a gloomy tale of popular alarm. " The late advances of the enemy oblige the general to request the inhabitants of this city not to appear in the streets after ten o'clock at night, as he has given orders to the picket guard to arrest and confine all persons who may Putnam's orders. 227 be found in the streets after that hour. Physicians and others, having essential business after that hour, are directed to call at headquarters for passes. " The general has been informed that some weak oi wicked men have maliciously reported that it is the design and wish of the officers and men in the continental army to burn and destroy the city of Philadelphia. To counter act such a false and scandalous report he thinks it neces- sary to inform the inhabitants who propose to remain in the city, that he has received positive orders from the honourable continental Congress, and from his excellency General Washington, to secure and protect the city of Philadelphia against all invaders and enemies. The gene- ral will consider any attempt to burn the city as a crime of the blackest dye, and will, without ceremony, punish capitally any incendiary who shall have the hardiness and cruelty to attempt it. The general commands all able- bodied men who are not conscientiously scrupulous about bearing arms, and who have not been known heretofore to have entertained such scruples, to appear in the State House yard at ten o'clock with their arms and accoutre- ments. This order must be complied with, the general being resolutely determined that no person shall remain in the city an idle spectator of the present contest who has it in its power to injure the American cause, or who may refuse to lend his aid in support of it, persons under con- scientious scruples alone excepted." Nor was Congress free from the infection of that hour of alarm. The published proceedings indicate the gloom which oppressed its deliberations. The secret resolves. as communicated to General Washington, show at once the uncertainty of their counsels, and the far reaching sagacity of him whose conduct Congress professed to regu- late. On the 11th of December Congress passed a reso- lution denouncing as scandalous a rumour which was then current, that they intended to leave Philadelphia. It was 228 HUGH MERCER. coramunicaled to Washington, with a request that it should be published to the army. On the 12th he wrote to Con- gress, declining to accede to their request, and frankly saying, that in his judgment such a resolution and its pub- lication were alike inexpedient. And on the next day Congress resolved to adjourn precipitately to Baltimore, and conferred on Washington full and unlimited powers to conduct the war as he pleased. What secret thoughts, what hidden despair oppressed the mind of Washington, it is difficult to conceive. His letters, private and official, breathe the spirit of calm and abiding confidence, that the cause of liberty would yet prosper, though the means by which the result was to be achieved were unseen. " Our little handful is daily de- creasing by sickness and other causes ; and without aid, without considerable succours ami exertions on the part of the people, what can we reasonably look for or expect but an event which will be severely felt by the common cause, and will wound the heart of every virtuous Ameri- can, the loss of Philadelphia." In a letter to his brother on the 18th, he says, " 1 have no doubt but General Howe will still niake an attempt on Philadelphia this winter. I foresee nothing to prevent him a fortnight hence, as the time of all the troops except those of Virginia, now re- duced almost to nothing, and Smallwood's regiment of Marylanders, equally as low, will expire before the end of that time. In a word, if every nerve is not strained to recruit the new army with all possible expedition, I think the game is nearly up. You can form no idea of the per- plexity of my situation. No man ever had a greater choice of difficulties, and less means to extricate himself from them. But under a full persuasion of the justice of our cause, I cannot entertain an idea that it will finally sink, though it may remain for some time under a cloud." It was at this desperate crisis, when hope seemed dead, that in the American camp the suggestion was made to t;HANGlNG THE POLICY OF THE WAK. 229 change the policy of the war, and make a sudden move ment on the detached outposts of the enemy, then scat- tered carelessly through New Jersey, from Brunswick to Trenton. With whom this plan originated, history has not precisely ascertained. If, as is most probable, it was the council of war, it may have had its origin in many a brave but desponding spirit. Certain it is, that it received its best encouragement from the success of an appeal made to the volunteers and militia of Philadelphia, who, to the number of more than 1500 men, marched to the camp near Trenton. As early as the 14th December, the idea of an attack geems to have suggested itself to the mind of the com- mander-in-chief, but to have been dependent on a junction with General Lee, then supposed to be in the rear of the enemy, but who was really their prisoner. A witness who within a few years has sunk into the grave, thus ascribes this movement.* " Two or three days after we had crossed the Delaware, there were several meetings be- tween the adjutant-general and General Mercer, at which I was permitted to be present; the questions were dis- cussed whether the propriety and practicability did not exist of carrying the outposts of the enemy, and ought not to be attempted. On this point no disagreement existed between the generals, and, to remove objections in other quarters, it was determined they should separately open the subject to the commander-in-chief, and to such officers as would probably compose his council of war, if any should be called. I am sure the first of these meetings was at least ten days before the attack on Trenton was made." On the I8th, news of an intended attack were \,urrent in Philadelphia, and, on the 21st, General Greene wrote from camp to the governor of Rhode Island, thai he Doped that an attack would soon be made. • General ^then Major) Armstrong, an aid of General Mercer. Vol. I. 20 230 HUGH M ;■: u c e r. On Iho next clay, llie adjutant-general, Colonel Reed, wrote from Bristol a letter of urgent solicitation, which nc doubt expressed the sentiment of a large portion of the olFicers ol the army, and indicated Trenton, or its imme- diate vicinity, as the best point of attack.* Such sugges- tions, thus urged by his most valued friends, — by Greene, by Mercer, and Reed, met with a ready response in the breast of Washit)Li;t()u, and the plun of attack was soon concerted. The iMiiladelphia and New Jersey troops were to cross the Delaware below, while the main body of the army, — if such a plirase be applicable to a remnant so meagrp, — under Washington, Mercer, and Sullivan, cross- ing above Trenton, were to attack the enemy there. But even then the hope of a successful issue seemed desperate; and two days before the battle, Washington wrote to Robert Morris in a tone of deep solicitude — " For God's sake hurry on the clothing to my sullering men. Leave no arms or valuable papers in the city, for sure I am that the enemy wait for two events alone to begin their opera- tions on Philadelphia, — ice for a passage over the Dela- ware, and the dissolution of the poor remains of my debilitated army." On the night before the battle, Washington wrote his 'ast letter to the commanders of the Philadelphia troops. " The bearer is sent down to know if your plan was at- tempted last night ; and if not, to inform you that Christ- mas day at night, one hour before day, is fixed for our attempt on 'I'renton. For Heaven's sake keep this to yourself, as the discovery may prove fatal to us; our numbers, sorry am I to say, being less than I had any conception of, but necessity — dire necessity may, nay, must justify an attack. Prepare your men and attack as many of their posts as you possibly can with any prospect of success. I have ordered our men three day, proiision • Sparks's Washington, vol. iv. p. 54? U A T r L E OF T R K N T O N . 231 and their blankets, for if we are successful, which Heaven grant, we shall push on." The issue of that enterprise need not be told. It turned the tide of war, and gave an impulse to popular feelinj? which was in strange contrast to previous despondency. Araid the darkness of a winter night did Washington lead the remnant of his shattered army on this desperate enter- prise, and a brief and bloody conflict terminated in a glorious victory. The column of attack operating on the main street leading from Princeton, was commanded by Mercer, and became the most efficient in obstructing the retreat of the enemy. It is unnecessary to trace in detail the military opera- tions that immediately followed the victory at Trenton. It was no sooner won than the American army with the prisoners recrossed the Delaware, and resumed their former position. Here they remained till the 29th, when offensive operations were renevved. General Washington again entered New Jersey, and the British army advanced, the reconnoitring parties being at Trenton, to recover the ground they had lost. On the night of the 2d January, 1777, the American camp was the scene of anxious council. The panic which the unexpected blow at Trenton inspired had subsided, and the British army in full force had resumed their posi- tion, and looked forward to the next day for the consum- mation of their revenge. A small creek alone separated the two armies. Each seemed in deep repose, and the sentry of either camp as he paced his weary round looked out upon the watchfires of the enemy burning brightly and steadily, and felt assured that the jiresence of a vindictive or desperate foe insured a bloody day to-morrow. Night had scarcely closed before a council of war was held by the Americans, and anxious attention bestowed on the only two questions tiien deemed worth consideration, '.vhether » '•etreat were advisable, or whether the attack of a supe 232 H U G II M K U C K 11. rior f(uri' s\i()iil(l hr (Micdiinlcri'd on lliis a fiold of rccont vicMoiy. I'^ach sci'inod alike (losperate — the diirunilty of their position was too apparent, the over\vlu'liniii<; forct of the enemy rtMuh'red defence impracticable, antl an ahnost inij)assal)le river, al least to an army in hasty retreat in llieir rear, closed all avenue to escape. 'I'hen it was, th;i{ Mercer thn'w out the l)old idea that one C(»iirse had not yet been tlion^ht of, and this was to oriler up the Phi- ladelphia militia, niake a ni^ht march on Princeton — attack the two British regiments said to l)e there under Lesley, (roulinue the march to Brunswick, and desiroy ihe m.iga/.ines at that |)OSt. "And where," was Washington's (piestion, "can (he army take post at Brunswick.'' — my knowledo^e of the coun'ry does not enable me to t^ay," (Jeneral Sincdair gave a full and clear descrijition of the hilly country between Morristown and Brunswick, and tlie nigiit march, as suggested by Merci-r, was after brief disi'ussion agreed to without dissent. iOach olllcer hastened to the head of liis corps, and, before the dawn of day, the brilliant matueuvre thus suggested, gloriously for his coun- try, iatally for himselt', was successfully executed. The night w^as dark and intensely cold. There was no moon, but the stars were watching from a cloudless sky tl»e doings of that midnight luiur. Sleep had begun to steal over the tired soldier of cither army, but the steady eye of watchful discipline, the experienced ear that so easily detects a hostile movement, whether of attack or retreat, slept not. The British generals, sure of to-morrow's victory, watcheil closely the camp of the Americans. The sound of the party working on the intrenchments at the ford was distinctly heard — the watchfnes burned brightly and IVeshly, the senlimds were plainly seen marching" stcadil) and silently, and all seemed w(dl. The rebel victim was safe within the toils. But as the gray of the dawn was visible, and the lirsi note of the Briti.^h reveille was sounded, no answering drum was heard. A moment MERC i; K W O U N I) i: D AT P 11 I N C E T O N. •2']3 of expectation, and slill no fclio to llie sohJier's call — all wa.s silent as the grave — till suddenly there burst forth the straii<^e sound ot" winter thunder in th(; British rear. "What can that firin"^ be?" is said to have been Lord Cornwallis's anxious and incredulous (juestion. " M) lord," was the prompt reply of Sir William Erskine, " it is Washinj^lori at Princeton." In that ni<^ht march, to him who had sug(((,'sted the movement was intrusted the command of the advanced party. As the day broke a large body of British troops was discovered apparently in march to Trenton, and after pausing to confer with Washington, who arrived on the field in a short time, the bold design was foriniMl and exe- cuted by Mercer, of throwing his brigade between the enemy antJ their reserve at Princeton, and thus forcing on a general action. The movement was carried into effect. The fall of Colonel Ilazlet, mortally wounded, at the head of his men, threw them into momentary confusion, and General Mercer's horse being kilh.'d by the enemy's fire, he was left alone and dismounted on the field. Disdain- ing to surrender, and indignant at the apjjarenl confusion of his men, he encountered, single handed, a detachment of the enemy, and being beaten to the earth by the butts of their muskets, was savagely and mortally stabbed by their bayonets. The struggle of that day was as brief as it was bloody, and with tlie loss of many of the bravest officers; of Ilazlet, of .Slii|)pen, of Fleming, of Neal, and Mercer, the American troops remained in possession of the field so hardly won. Wilhin a short time. Major Armstrong, the general's lid, found him lying bleeding and insensible on the field. He Was removed to a neighbouring farm, where he lingered .n extreme suffering (the house being alternately occupied by British and American parlies) till the I'iih January, when, breathing liis last prayer for his yoimg and help- less family and his bleeding country, he expired in the 20* 234 JOHN ARMSTRONG. arms of Major George Lewis, a fellow-citizen of his be- loved Virginia, and nephew of Washington. Nor was his dying bed a bed of utter desolation. The house whither the wounded soldier was carried was tenanted, during that day, by two delicate females, who, wearing the garb and professing the principles of peace, were too brave to fly from the field of battle, or the bed of death. While the conflict raged around their humble dwelling, these two tender, helpless women, lo.st no con- fidence in the protection which the God of innocence rarely withholds — and when the dying warrior was brought to their threshold and left beneath their roof, their minis- tering charities were ready to soothe his solitary anguish and smooth the passage to the grave. One of these Ame- rican women of better times has died near Princeton within the last few years, aged upwards of ninety years. It was part of her household story that she had watched the deathbed of a soldier of the Revolution. BRIGADIER-GENERAL JOHN ARMSTRONG. In giving the history of General Mercer the character of John Armstrong is sketched so fully* that we have here to add but a few dates. He resided in Carlisle, Penn- sylvania, during the French war, and in 1756 marched with two hundred and fifty provincials from Fort Shirley to Kittanning, on the Allegheny, the rendezvous of a large party of hostile Indians, which he destroyed. On the first of March, 1776, he was appointed a brigadier-general in the continental service; on the 17th of February, 1777, was ordered to the southern department ; and on the 4th of Aprd left the army on account of dissatisfaction in regard to rank. He subsequently commanded the Penn- sylvania militia at Brandywine and Germantown. He was in Congress in 1778 and 1787, and died at an ad- vanced age in Carlisle, on the 9th of March, 1795. • Ante, p. 218. MAJOR-GENERAL HENRY KNOX. Henry Knox was born in Boston, in the year 1750 He had the misfortune to lose his father at an early age His education was intrusted to his mother, who could only bestow upon him such instruction as her limited means could command. His devotion to his widowed parent early incited him to exertion, and before the age of twenty- one, he had established himself in a lucrative business as a bookseller. He exhibited in his youth a great fondness for military tactics, and attached himself as an officer to a grenadier company, whose manoeuvres elicited the praise of a distinguished British officer then in Boston. When hostilities between the mother country and the colonies began to attract public attention and to assume a threatening appearance, Knox espoused the cause of his country. He had married the daughter of a gentleman, who for a long time had held an office under the British government, and who was known to be an uncompromis- ing Tory. Fortunately for Knox his wife was deaf to the arguments of her father, and adopted his own views. When hostilities began to take a tangible form, Knox openly advocated the colonial interest. During the first opposition to England, and the oppressive measures ad- vocated by her representatives, he was only a looker on ; but when he deemed it the duty of every American to join the standard so boldly raised in defence of our pro- vincial rights, he commenced that career which added such lustre to his name, and secured to him a place among the revolutionary heroes. He was at the battle of Bunker Hill as a volunteer. He naa some difficulty in escaping from Boston to join the 235 236 HENRY KNOX. provincials. His wife accompanied him and concealed beneath her dress the sword which was destined, in the hands of her "liege lord," to carve out the path of glory upon which he strode to immortality. When Washing-ton arrived in Cambridge, as commander-in-chief, Knox pre- sented himself and tendered his services. The}^ were accepted. It was a matter of serious consideration how ordnance was to be procured for our army. Without artillery nothing could be effected against the proud foe, who then held possession of the capital of the north, and who looked contemptuously at that time upon the insur- rection of tiie oppressed freemen, whom they regarded as misled rebels. Knox knew the want of this arm of our service and fully appreciated our inability to contend against a well i)rovided enemy without it. The only cannon to be had were then to be found among our decayed fortifications on the Canadian frontier. It seemed impossi- ble to obtain them from such a distance, especially as our army was too weak to detach the force required to pro- cure their transport, and an inclement season was at hand. With an ardour of enterprise which few possessed, Knox volunteered to bring the ordnance to the camp. Re- lying upon such aid as he might obtain from the thinly populated country through which he had to pass, and never yielding to the despondency that might have de- terred a less bold and less persevering spirit, he gallantly undertook the task, and gallantly accomplished it. The perils of a northern winter, the thousand obstacles that opposed him, not only in the character of the region he had to traverse, but in the want of the requisite aid, were all nobly surmounted, and he brought to the assistance of our cause the weapons most needed to insure its success. This act stamped the character of Knox. Washington appreciated his services, and immediately rewarded him with the command of the artillery. Among the incidents of this enterprise, we cannot for- HIS PUBLIC SERVICES. 237 bear to mention the accidental meeting of Knox with Andre that unhappy officer whose fate was so deeply deplored by those of both nations who knew and esteemed his accom- plishments and gentleman-like deportment. Knox was delighted with him, and such was the impression made upon his mind that, in after years, when called upon to pronounce sentence as a member of that tribunal which condemned him, he confessed the friendship he had formed, but made his painful duty doubly bitter. During the continuance of the war, the corps of artillery was always attached to the main body of our army. This position brought its commander into constant attendance upon Washington. His arm of the service was deemed an essential auxiliary to the movements of the campaign. An intimacy thus sprung up between the commander-in- chief and Knox, which continued until the hour of death, and gave birth to a mutual confidence and esteem that time but strengthened. Knox was in every battle where Washington fougl it. The sphere in which he achieved his renown, was, until the siege of Yorktown, confined to the northern and middle states. After the battle of Whiteplains, Wash- ington deemed it expedient to retreat farther south, and crossed the Delaware, leaving the British in possession of New York. Having received reinforcements from Mary- land and Virginia, he suddenly recrossed the river, and achieved his brilliant victories at Trenton and Princeton, in the very hour when Lord Cornwallis deemed the Ame- rican army annihilated. In these battles Knox bore a conspicuous and important part. In 1777, when Sir William Howe's design upon Phila- delphia became apparent, Washington met the advancing enemy at Brandywine, and opposed our scanty forces to the full strength of the British army. All efforts against uch odds proved unavailing ; the Americans retreated, yet Knox shielded that reti-eat in such a manner that many 238 HENRY KNOX. were saved f/om the sword of the foe. On the 26th of September Sir William Howe made his triumphal entrance iuto Philadelphia. The battle of Germantown followed on the 4th of October, and in this contest, which gave at first such bright promise to our arms — a promise that was sadly disappointed — Knox won fresh laurels by his dar- ing conduct, his judgment, and the skilful management of his command. The winter drew nigh, and our army went into winter quarters at Valley Forge. At no period of our history did our cause assume so desperate a character as at this moment. The stoutest heart was unable to contemplate the gloomy future with- out fearful apprehensions. Without clothing, without food, without pay, exposed to the relentless storms of that inclement season, our army might well murmur, and they did complain bitterly; and it was a solemn task — to quiet the reproaches of his men — that Washington then had to perform. In this dark hour Knox seemed to cherish a prophetic confidence in our cause. To judge from his letters written at this time, he possessed a firm reliance upon our ultimate success, and although he was well aware of our destitute condition, and was keenly alive to the trials yet to be endured, his faith in our triumph never forsook him, nor did his noble heart even once yield to despondency. His confidence and example had their effect. Although the battles alluded to had been severe, the most trying conilict of the Revolution had yet to be encountered. The battle of Monmouth was the most bloody contest of them all. In this struggle Knox was slightly wounded in the hand, but he contributed such signal aid with his artillery, and exhibited so much cool bravery, and skilful management of his ordnance, that even the enemy bestowed unqualified praise upon his gallant be- haviour. In his general orders, Washington expressed the highest and most marked encomiums upon liis conJuci and services. FRIENDSHIP OF WASHINGTON. 239 At the siege of Yorktown, Knox added fresh lusVe to his name. In that memorable siege, which resulted in the surrender of Lord Cornwallis on the 19th of October, 1781, and secured the great end of the Revolution, he gave more essential assistance than any other officer. Thacher, in his Military Journal, says, << his animated exertions, his military skill, his cool and determined bravery, in this triumphant struggle, received the unanimous approbation of his brethren in arms." His services were at once re- cognised by Congress, who bestowed upon him the com- mission of a major-general. He was afterwards appointed with two other commission- ers to adjust the terms of peace. He executed this delicate negotiation in a most creditable manner, and much to the satisfaction of the country. He was also deputed to receive the surrender of the city of New York, on the 25th of November, 1783, and subsequently was appointed to thf C3mmand of West Point. Here ends his military career We find Knox upon the field, in the camp, in the coun- cils of his commander-in-chief, ever the brave, self-sacri- ficing, daring, cool, wise and noble soldier and patriot. Let us turn a moment to a less brilliant yet not less pleasing side of his character ; let us look at him as a man, as a friend, as a husband, as a father. When Washington parted with him at New York, he is said to have shed tears, so warmly had Knox attached himself to one who could read men's hearts and penetrate their souls as a ray of light penetrates the gloom of a chamber. They had long been together, and Washing- ton had learned to appreciate and to love him. This speaks volumes for the head and heart of Knox, as Washington was not easily won. The war having been brought to a happy termination, a most serious duty yet remained to be performed ; a duty of no common magnitude, and one that had not been i.40 HENRY KNOX. generally anticipated. Men who had stood the brunt of battle, had risked their lives under every hardsliip, to secure the general liberty, were now to be disbanded. They were reckless and discontented. For their great serr vices they had demands agiiinst our government, whose treasury was empty and whose resources were exhaustedf All tliat could be given in payment of hard-earned wages was the faith of a government then hardly established. Such reward for toils endured gave rise to murmurs and complainings which threatened to breed domestic turmoil and contention, and even to overthrow the freedom they had struggled so hard to gain. Knox saw and felt the impend- ing danger. He api)Iied himself by conciliatory argut menis ai)d by persuasive reasonings, to appease the gathering storm, ami by his popularity and iniluence, his resolution and his intrepid perseverance, succeeded in soothing the irritated soldiery, and in bringing them back to a just sense of their duties as citizens and men. Such services were of inestimable value in such an hour. While sitting at the table of his commander-in-chief, surrounded by his gallant brethreu-iu-arms, with whom he had fought side by side, and from whom he now felt he was soon to part, perhaps never to meet again, his generous heart was unwilling to take leave of those whom he had leiirned to love without the assurance of some tie that should unite them when other duties called each to his abode. It was at this moment his gentle and affec- tionate disposition gave birth to the idea of a society now known and louff honoured as The Cincinnati. It owes its existence to Knox, uho was elected the first vice-presi- dent, an ofBce he held until his death. At the close of 17S3, having performed all tlie duties of his station, he retired to his home in Maine, where he had added to his estate, inherited from his wife's ancestor, by extensive pun^hases. He was not allowed the luxury of repose for any length of time, for in 1784 he was ap- PERSONAL A P P F. A R A N C E. 24 1 pointed by Congress, under the old confederation, secretary of war, and at once confirmed by Washington. When Washington was elected President, Knox, having nad five years' experience in the duties of that dejjartrnent, and being personally known and esteemed for his capacity and integrity, was re-appointed, and he continued to hold the office until 1795, when Washington most reluctantly accepted his resignation. In this new sphere of action, we find him labouring with undiminished zeal for the welfare of his country. The complaints against the free- booters of the Mediterranean, and the threatened war with France, induced him to urge upon Congress the necessity of a navy, that subject then being under the direction of the War Department. His propositions were opposed, but his perseverance and sound arguments finally jjrevailed, and birth was given to our marine, which re- ceived the fostering care of its parent. The fatigues of service had not failed to awaken a desire for rest, and in 179.5, he retired to his home at Thomaston, in Maine, where he had erected a princely mansion. He was a large man, of full habit, and above the middle stature. In walking, his feet were nearly parallel, owing to the outward inclination of his lower limbs. He wore a queue, w ith his hair short in front, brushed up, and pow- dered. He had a low forehead, a large face, and small gray but brilliant eyes. When walking, he carried a largo cane, but usually under his arm ; if he used it at all, it was when excited in conversation, when he would some- times flourish it to aid his eloquence. He customarily wore black. His left hand having been mutilated at Mon- mouth, he wore around it a black silk handkerchief, which ho would unwind and rewind when talking, but without exposing his hand. His voice was strong, and bore the characteristic of having been accustomed to command. His mind was powerful, rapid and decisive ; he wascapa- i)le of continued application and of effective mought. He Vol. I. 21 Q 242 HENRY R.NOX. was of a highly social disposition, and enjored what few at present seem to enjoy, a hearty laugh. His fancy wa? active, and his mode of expressing himself no less bril- liant than felicitous. He said that through life he had risen with the dawn, and had been always a cheerful man. With his social disposition and generous heart, he was one of the most hospitable of men. At his noble resi- dence he often gathered around him a numerous circle of friends, among whom he was ever the most agreeable companion. As to the extent of his hospitality, it was not an unusual thing for him to make up in summer one hun- dred beds daily in his house, and to kill an ox and twenty sheep every Monday morning. He kept twenty saddle- horses and several pairs of carriage-horses, for the use of his guests and himself This expensive style of living was enough to exhaust a larger fortune than he possessed. He had too confidently calculated upon large sales of his lands, and being therein disappointed, his costly hospi- tality and exuberant generosity threw him into pecuniary embarrassments towards the close of his life. When President Adams concluded to form an army in 1798, Washington accepted tlie chief command, and named Alexander Hamilton first in rank under him ; Charles Cotesworth Pinckney second, and Knox tliird. This hurt Knox very much, for he was Hamilton's senior, and it made him hesitate awhile as to accepting the oflSce. But he soon yielded a soldier's sensibility to manly feel- ing and the nature of the call, and finally accepted the proffered post. He died very suddenly at his residence in Thomaston, in the year 1806, aged fifty-six years. The immediate cause of his death was a rapid and fatal mortification, produced from swallowing a chicken-bone, at breakfast. The abilities and integrity of General Knox have been amply vindicated by recent historians, and there are few names in our history that now shine with a purer lustre MAJOR-GENERAL BENEDICT ARNOLD. •* Arnold's conduct," wrote Washington, on the l8th of October, 1780, " is so villanously perfidious, that there are no terras that can describe the baseness of his heart. The confidence and folly which have marked the subse- quer.t career of this man are of a piece with his viliany, and all three are perfect in their kind."* Such is Washing- ton's recorded judgment on Benedict Arnold. Such is the deliberate opinion of one whose instincts of right and wrong rarely misled him, who was slow to anger and who mea- sured every word of praise or censure that he uttered. Yet strange to say, now that nearly seventy years have rolled by, an effort is making partially to reverse this judg- ment, and if not to praise, to excuse or account for Ar- nold's last and worst overt act of crime, by attributing it to some outward and irresistible pressure, or by the reca- pitulation of his earlier deeds of audacious bravery. Brave, desperately brave, he certainly was. He showed it in the wilderness march of 1775, in the attack on Quebec, and at the heights of Saratoga, but more than all, did he show it on occasions which his whimsical apologists are glad to pass by unnoticed, when, with a halter round his neck, he led an invading array into the heart of Virginia; when he gazed from the belfry of the New London church on a burning village, and sanctioned the murder of Colonel Ledyard, at the storming of Fort Griswold. But of all the qualities which form the character of heroic men, that is least worthy of admiration which, however essen- tial, is common to the beast of prey and the ruffian whose • Letter to President Reed, 18th October, 1780. Vn. Washingtoa's Works, p. 264. 243 244 BENEDICT ARNOLD. sword is at the command of those who best can pay for it Desperate, reckless courage, the fruit of physical organi- zation, is the solitary virtue of Arnold's character — the scanty material out of which his apologists weave all their praises. His avarice, for he was rapacious to the last de- gree, his voluptuousness, which knew no restraint, his meanness, for, when it suited selfish purposes, he was an adept in all the poor arts of defamation, his insensibility, for he could stand by and without apparent compunction see a relatively guiltless confederate die on the scaffold, his mercenary shamelessness, for he could receive the wases of treason thus stained with blood, his last and worst act, the sale of his country's — his confiding coun- try's trust for gold — all are to be forgotten, and we find- writers of clever parts and popular talent, labouring to undo the world's well-settled judgment, and to prove that Arnold was not so bad as he is thought to be. In no such spirit of perverse apology do we write. A time-sanctioned judgment is oftener right than wrong, and on such in this instance do we rely. Washington knew Arnold well, and when the first flush of disappointment and resentment had passed away, wrote the words which are inscribed at the head of this chapter, and which will live and be remem- bered when all attempts at palliation are forgotten. It is best it should be so. The public necessities which call for patriotic sacrifices and exertions are not exhausted. The virtues of the Revolution and its soldiers may be needed again. The errors — the crimes, happily very few, of the men of those days of trial may find imitators, and who shall say that Arnold's example of infamy may not hereafter be profitable to deter. If, in the relations of private life, any thing had appeared to justify a charitable or kind construction of his conduct, the effort to palliate conceded public offences, and to reconcile them with some theory of accidental lapse from virtue or imaginary exigency, might be pardoned, but the uniformity, the cou- HIS BOYHOOD. 245 sistericy of public and private conduct is here complete, and the result is no other than that at which the latest and most judiciously tolerant writer on the subject has arrived, when, as it were, throwing aside the dismal record in indig- nant disgust, he says: "I am inclined to believe that Ar- nold was a finished scoundrel from early manhood to his grave. Nor do I believe he had any real and true-hearted attachment to the whig cause. He fought as a mere ad- venturer, and took sides from a calculation of personal gain and chances of plunder and advancement."* The place of Arnold's birth was Norwich, in the colony of Connecticut — its date the 3d of January, 1740. Of his boyhood, his best and kindest biographer thus speaks: « To an innate love of mischief, young Arnold added an obduracy of conscience, a cruelty of disposition, an irritability of temper, and a reckless indifference to the good or ill opinion of others, that left but a slender foun- dation upon which to erect a system of correct principle or habits. Anecdotes have been preserved of all these traits. One of his earliest amusements was the robbery of birds' nests, and it was his custom to maim and mangle young birds in sight of old ones, that he might be diverted with their cries. Near the druggist's shop was a school- house, and he would place in the path broken pieces of glass, taken from the crates, by which the children would cut their feet in coming from school. The cracked and imperfect phials which came in the crates were perquisites of the apprentices. Hopkins, a fellow-apprentice and an amiable youth, was in the habit of placing his share on the outside of the shop near the door, and permitting the small boys to take them away, who were pleased with this toktm of his good will. Arnold followed the same practice, bui when he had decoyed the boys and they were busy pick- ing up the broken phials, he would rush out of the shop • Sabiiie's Americiui Loyalists, p. 131. ■ , 21* 246 BENEDICT ARNOLD. with a horsewhip in his hand, call them thieves, and beat them with'^Mt pity. These and similar acts afforded him pleasure. He was likewise fond of rash feals of daring, always foremost in danger, and as fearless as he was wickedly mischievous. Sometimes he took corn to a grist- mill in the neighbourhood, and while waiting for \he meal, he would amuse himself and astonish his playmates, by clinging to the arms of a large water-wheel, and passing with it beneath and above the water,"* Arnold's first manly years were equally characteristic. They were full of that sort of restless adventure which precluded the steady pursuit of any calling, and especially disqualified him for that honest and useful one which he at first adopted. He was better suited for the semi- contraband trade in the West Indies, than for compound- ing drugs behind an apothecary's counter at New Haven. Arnold, for a time, was part skipper, commanding a little schooner out of New London, and part horsedealer, car- rying his live-stock to the French and Spanish islands ; o(;casionally relieving the monotony of trade by a duel with a Frenchman at one place, and a brawl with a sailor at another. It seems, indeed, that our Revolution, at its outset, required all sorts of agencies, all sorts of men, to set the ball in motion ; not only the sedate and practical wisdom of Washington, the shrewd sagacity of Franklin, the high cultivation of men of scholarship, like Adams and Otis, the self-taught and well-poised intelligence of Greene, (the most brilliant and meritorious of young America's soldiers,) but it needed too the boasting, irre- gular, adventurous energy of Arnold ; and accordingly, the moment that the musket-shots at Concord echoed through New England, he was in the field, mustering liis little Norwich company, and ready to march any where that fighting was to be found. On the 2d May, 1775, * Sparks's Life of Arnold, p. 5. FORT TICONDEROGA. 247 iittle more than a fortnight after the battle of Lexington, and as long before that of Bunker Hill, Arnold was a pro- vincial colonel, and on his march to Ticonderoga. In about a week, having overtaken Ethan Allen's party of Green Mountain boys, who threatened to gather the honours of the first assault, he was at the fort ; and, on the 10th May, the garrison was surprised and taken, " in the name of the Great Jehovah and the continental Congress." What strange and picturesque associations hover around this old Ticonderoga Fort! It has seen more bloody fighting, more chequered military results, more of the romance of warfare, than any spot in North America. It is, or rather — for in this matter-of-fact atmosphere of ours the venerable and picturesque has no chance — it ought to be a classic spot. The scene of French and Indian war- fare, pf the prowess of Amherst and of Howe, of Dieskau and Montcalm, it became at the beginning and continued to the end of the revolutionary war a fighting-ground where blood was spilled like water, which each combatant seemed able to conquer, but neither to retain. The con- quest of it by Ethan Allen and Arnold, in 1775, was a striking event in those stirring times. Extreme and pain- ful was the astonishment with which the British military authorities in Canada learned of this close defiance — for it is probable that Sir Guy Carleton, at his headquarters at Quebec, heard of the fall of Ticonderoga before he knew of the skirmish at Lexington. He was destined to have a more startling surprise when, a few months later, one of the conquerors of Ticonderoga penetrated the Ken- nebec wilderness, and showed himself, at the head of a band of daring adventurers, before the castle of St. Louis. It was, however, to Great Britain, her ministers and gene- rals, the day of wonders. No sooner had the Fort surrendered, than Arnold, with characteristic energy, and with that restlessness of authority which marked his whole life, organized a sort of separate 248 BENEDICT ARNOLD. commaiicl, and equipped a naval armament on Lake Champlain. In this, he rendered efficient service, scou- ring the hike from one end to the other ; and, by the ra- pidity of movement — for he seemed every where at once — holding in check any advancing parlies of the enemy, and terrifying into inaction the scattered loyalist inhabit- ants. But here, as ever, Arnold's evil genius disturbed a career of usefulness and trium[)h. Altercations arose, questions of pecuniary accountability were agitated ; jea- lousies of precedence alienated him from his companions in arms, especially from Allen, whose puritan peculiarities were, it may be conceded, far from consonant with Ar- nold's audacious freedom of thought, and language, and action, and the result, as might liave been foreseen, was that, from his first as from his last command, from Ticon- deroga in 1775, as from Philadelphia in 1779, Arnold re- tired an embittered and vindictive man. He repaired at once to Washington's camp, at Cambridge, and there so- licited active service. And for a service which the com- mander-in-chief then had in view, he was exactly the man. The reader is aware that a wilderness march and an attack from an unexpected quarter, and at an unusual season on the Canadian posts, was then contemplated and was soon matured. Its story of romance is well-known, and need not here be repeated. It is a tale of heroic adventure which is best told when simply told ; and there are contemporary records which narrate the story with clear and eloquent fideliiy. No words of praise are too strong for this exploit. Dangers were surmount- ed and privations endured from which the peaceful mind recoils; and it was done with cheerfulness and alacrity, without murmur or complaint. But one man retreated ; and his name has been ever since disgraced. Arnold, and Christopher Greene, and Morgan, and Meigs, and Bigelow were always in advance; and such leaders, MARCH TO POINT LEVI. 24^ SO full of dashing enterprise, the men were proud to fol- low. If the news of an invasion from the clouds had reachfd tlie British commanders, they could not have been more amazed than they were when the deserter Indiai. ^Eneas brought them word that a Rebel army — for so, no doubt, the savage dignified Arnold's liitle band — was coming down the cascades of the Chaudiere in rafts and batteaux, having reached it through a trackless wilderness which no feet had trod but those of the Indian hunter and his victims, the elk and the moose.* In a day or two after the news was first whispered, the American flag was seen on Point Levi; and before this surprise was well over, the Rebel forces were drawn up in such array as their poor numbers justified, on the Plains of Abraham, Wolfe's bright career and glorious victory were then fresh in memory ; and it seems to have been Arnold's pride — and it was a worthy one — to tread in his footsteps. He crossed, as Wolfe did, from Point Levi to the cove, led his untutored soldiers up the same wild path, and sought a battle on the spot where, seventeen years before, Wolfe had died in the arms of victory. Happy would it have been for him if he had thus died, and, like Montgomery, been mourned as the nation's first child. No sooner did Sir (Juy Carleton, then at Montreal watching the danger from above, hear of the unexpected approach of the Americans to Quebec, than he hastened to its relief. Leaving his flotilla above the batteries which the provincials had hastily constructed at Sorel, he em- barked in the night in a small armed vessel, and at immi- • « There are," says an English letter writer from Quebec, " about ^ve hundicil provincials arrived at Point Levi, liy the way of the Chau- diere, across the woods. Surely, a miracle must have been wrouf^ht in their favour. It is an undertaking above the common race of men, in this debauched age. They have travelled through woods and bogs, and over precipice.-i, for the space of one hundred and twenty miles, attended with every inconvenience and dilFicuIty, to be surmounted only by men of iiulefatigable zeal and industry." Almon vol. ii p. 130. 250 BENEDICT ARNOLD. nent risk of capture, passed down the river. There was rich i*nd noble freight, it may be noted, in this boat. Not only did it carry the governor-general and some members of his family, but with them was Lord Chatham's young son, an olHcer in the 47th British regiment, and attached to General Carleton's statf. To the American reader the career of this young man has peculiar interest. Though it opened brightly to him, with all the advantages of patron- age and place, it was abruptly terminated by his father's resolute determination, for which, as all else he did, Ame- rica ought to reverence his memory, boldly announcing, that no son of his should bear arms in the cause of tyranny, or against his oppressed fellow-subjects. In February, 1776, Lady Chatham wrote in her husband's name to Sir Guy Carleton, peremptorily withdrawing his son from a service which though that of his sovereign, he considered unworthy of his countenance.* On the day that Carleton reached Quebec, Arnold had retired to Point aux Trembles, and there awaited General Montgomery's arrival from above. On the 1st of Decem- ber Montgomery took command. It was high time; for Arnold had on more occasions than one displayed his utter incapacity for the direction of affairs, or what may be called generalship. The moment that mere adventure and its necessities ceased, Arnold lost the con- fidence and regard of the officers and men. A gallant witness of one of his outbursts of vain folly has thus de- scribed it: "Arnold had the boldness, you might say the audacity, or still more correctly, the folly, to draw us up in a line, in front and opposite to the wall of the city. The parapet was lined by hundreds of gaping citizens and sol- diers, whom our guns could not harm, because of the dis- tance. They gave us a huzza ! We returned it, and re- mained a considerable time huzzaing, and spend ng our • (Jhatham Correspondence, vol. iv, p. A'^li, HIS FOLLY AT QUEBEC. 25i powder against the walls, for we harmed no one. Some of our men to the right, under the cover of something like ancient ditches and hillocks, crept forward within two hun- dred yards of the works, but their firing was disregarded by the enemy as farcical. Febiger, who was a real and well instructed soldier, and engineer, did advance singly within a hundred paces, and pored with the eye of an adept. Daring all this, as my station in the line happened to be on a mound, a few feet higher than the common level of the plain, it was perceptible through the embra- sures that there was a vast bustle within. In some mi- nutes a thirty-six pounder was let loose upon us ; but so ill was the gun pointed, that the ball fell short, or passed high over our heads. Another, and another succeeded — • to these salutes, we gave them all we could, another and another huzza. It must be confessed, that this ridiculous aflfair gave me a contemptible opinion of Arnold. This notion was by no means singular. Morgan, Febiger, and other officers, who had seen service, did not hesitate to speak of it in that point of view."* The same writer has thus described the exhilaration pro- duced by Montgomery's arrival : " On the first of Decem- ber, General Montgomery, who was anxiously expected, arrived. Arnold's corps was paraded in front of the chapel. It was lowering and cold, but the appearance of the general here, gave us warmth and animation. He was well limbed, tall, and handsome, though his face was much pock-marked. His air and manner designated the real soldier. He made us a short, but energetic and ele- gant speech, the burden of which, was an applause of our spirit in passing the wilderness ; a hope, our persever ance in that spirit would continue ; and a promise of warm clothing; the latter was a most comfortable assurance. A few huzzas from our freezing bodies were returned to this • Henry's Narrative. 252 BENEDICT ARNOLD. address of the gallant hero. Now new life was infuseo into the whole of the corps." The pleasure-seeking traveller, who, at this day under ihe bright efTulgence of a summer sun, looks from the ramparts of the great citadel of Quebec on the beautiful landscape before him, can scarcely realize the contrast of the winter horrors of the same scene, or the perils of the wild adventure which the new year's night of 1776 there witnessed. The attempt to storm Quebec by the /Vmericans has no parallel in the history of despe- rate warfare. Wolfe's time of adventure ceased when he scaled the cliff and dispersed the Serjeant's guard on the heights. Afier that it was plain and gallant fighting, on a magnificent field of battle, under a bright autumnal, or rather summer sun, and with no warfare of elements to en- counter. He had with him regular troops — the picked men of the British army, veterans of Prince Ferdinand and Cumberland. He had a fleet at hand to rescue him, and a government (no slight incentive) at home to reward him living, and to honour and mourn over him dead. The American leader's signal for attack was the snow storm of Canadian midwinter. There was three feet of hard frozen snow upon the ground, piercing the bloody feet of the rebel soldiers, and the moment fixed for advance against the stone redoubts of the city, was when the moon should be overcast, and a drifting snow begin. The men from whom this terrible duty was exacted, were youths from the plough, untutored in the art of war, undisciplined by military ex- perience ; dressed in hunting-shirts, unprovided against the climate, and with no arms but such as the chase snp- plied. They and their leaders were fighting in a cause which to them looked as gloomily as did that winter night. Victory would bring no immediate or substantial honours or reward, neither rank of service, nor pension, nor title ; and death's only recompense would be an acci- dental grave due to the kindness of a generous eneray. ATTACK ON QUEBEC. 253 (for such throughout was Carleton) and the slow remem brance of those for whom life was to be sacrificed.* There was not for them either "Peerage or Westminster Abbey." The American reader has a right to be proud of (he contrast, and this too without a thought or word of vulgar dispa- ragement of England's gallant rnen. Montgomery had been one of Wolfe's otHcers, in 1759, and we may imagine that in the wild darkness of the winter assault, his mind's eye may have been cheered by a bright vision of glory of the past, and that the thought of Wolfe's glory led on- ward Wolfe's young captain in a nobler and better cause. Montgomery, at the head of about seven hundred men, advanced along the river bank, whilst Arnold at the same moment attempted and carried the suburb of St. Roque. Montgomery's march was by a narrow defile, with a sharp descent to the water's edge on one side, and the scarped rock of the fortress on the other. They soon reached a point called Pres de Ville. A battery of three pounders charged with grape had been placed here, in charge of a small party of Canadian militia and seamen. At daybreak one of these men discovered in the dusk of the morning, a body of troops in full advance. The alarm was instantly given, but the assailants were allowed unmolested to ap- proach within a short distance. The Americans halted for a moment, and an officer came forward to reconnoitre, very near the battery. After listening for a moment, all being still and apparently unguarded, the scout returned with his report, and the column with Montgomery and his aids at its head, dashed forward at double quick time to the attack. At this moment the British artillerymen fired their pieces in rapid succession. The assaulting troops recoiled in confusion, nothing was heard but the groans of the svounded and dying, and, nothing certain being known within the lines, the pass continued to be swept by the • It was nearly half a century after Montgomery's death when perma- nent honour was dono to his memory. Vol. I. 22 254 n !•: n k n i c t a r n o l d. canncii and musketry, for the space of ten minutes. Th« next n>Drnini5 thirteen bodies were found in the snow. On the retreat of the Americans, a young ollicer of Canadian volunteers visited tlie scene of carnage; and there he found, lying frozen on the ground, his arm extended towards Quebec, one whom he had known at college in the mother country and pointed him out as the American general. The young English soKlior was afterwards one of the most eminent jurists of Great Britain.* Arnold's attack on the other side of the town was so far successful that his party penotrated near to ;he Palace Gate ; but there, being severely wounded in the leg, he was obliged to retire to the rear, and his troops, after a severe loss in killed and prisoners, and a desperate attempt by Morgan, who, on ArnoUrs wound, was in command, to push farther on, were obliged to retreat. Thus ended in disaster the memorable attack on Quebec. The rest of the winter's tale was that of strict and uninteresting block- ade — neither besiegers nor besiegetl being willing or able to attempt any offensive movement. Generals Wooster and Sullivan successively assumed the American com- mand, Arnold being in great measure disabled by his wound. The spring of 1776 witnessed a series of dis- comfitures on the part of the Americans ; and later in the season the total evacuation of the Canadian provinces, and the advance across the lines, by the way of St. Johns and Isle aux Noix, of a well-apppointed British army, under General Burgoyne. Throughout the campaign thus closing, the candid and careful inquirer cannot fad being struc^k not merely with Arnold's spirit and enterprise, but with the fact that no single moment of tranquil administration passed without some dark imputation on his discretion or his integrity. His violence was uncontrollable. He chal- lenged the members of a court-martial to fight him. He * Sir William Grant See Life of Lord Sidmoutli, rol. i. p. litk CONFLICT WITH THE BRITISH FLEET. 255 seized goods by force, and insolently refused to account for them. He seetned here, as every where, to have an invinci- ble propensity to take other people's property ; and here, as after\yards in Philadelphia, he seemed strangely insensible in his rapacity to the distinction between friend and foe Here, as Mr. Sparks justly says, was the first link of the ^hain which finally dragged him down to ruin. The admirers of Arnold have a right to refer with plea- sure to that bright period of his life which dates from the evacuation of Canada in 1776, to the battle of Behraus's Heights in October, 1777. It was crowded with ex- ploits of romantic courage — some of ihem so desperately daring as to justify a doubt whether, in the excitement of the battle-field, Arnold was a sane man. This was emi- nently the case in his final exploit at Saratoga. But no man could have behaved with more gallantry than he did on these occasions. The reader who can study the nar- rative of his conduct in the flotilla command of 1776, and his fierce conflict with the British fleet, without a thrill of pride and a pang at the thought that such a man could become a mercenary traitor, need not be envied. The closing scene of this naval campaign is worthy of especial commemoration. Paul Jones or Decatur never fought a more desperate fight than this. On a small scale, and not the less fraught with danger on that account, it may be compared with any affair of modern warfare. Its details are known to every reader, and justify a discriminating biographer's remark, "that there are few instances on re- cord of more deliberate courage and gallantry than were displayed by him, from the beginning to the end of this ac- tion."* Here it it was, that another of those strange juxta- positions occurred, which the personal history of men of widely different aims and fate sometimes exhibits. The late Lord Exmouth,t the conqueror of Algiers, then Lieute • Sparks's Biography, 79. t Life of ExraoutL 256 BENEDICT ARNOLD. nant P^'llew of the Royal navy, was the person who boarded Arnold's vessel after he had abandoned it, and accidentally missed making him prisoner. Ha{)py, may it not again be said, would it have been for Arnold, had he then, with his fame unsullied, fallen into the hands of an honourable foe! Again, at Danbury, where, on his return from the North he happened 'to be, did he appear to great advantage in resisting the attack of I'ryon and his marauders, and bear- ing from the field the body of the gallant Wooster. It was a day full of unadulterated renown for Arnold, a day of battle, of close hand to hand coniiici, without an in- terval of safety or repose in which latent and invincible evil instincts could be developed. Such, indeed, was the fame here earned, and which no one begrudged, that Congress, who had hesitated so long and perhaps so wise- ly — for Congress, knew him well — on his claims of rank, and were scrutinizing closely his perplexed and irregu- lar accounts, hesitated no longer ; but giving him his coveted rank, and special distinctions beside, sent him with a major-general's commission, to join the northern army of Generals Schuyler and St. Clair. It is the fashion of the times to condemn the course which, on this and another occasion, presently to be al- luded to, Congress pursued with regard to Arnold. It certainly irritated Washington, who, being himself in the field in active service and being annoyetl with much that was imbecile, had a very soldierly admiration of Arnold's dashing courage. Adventurous enterprise had especial charms for Washington, who, by temperament, was far from a cautious soldier ; and it fretted him to see a de- liberative body doling out its reluctant praises for what, to him, seemed so admirable. But looking fo the result, to the conclusive development of Arnold's true character, at the end, his unquestioned incapacity even at the begin- ning, to do more than fight, his utter want, not only oi HIS JEALOUSY. 257 ^dm>;»sttaiive talent, but of integrity, are we not bound to think that there was in some members of Congress a far- reachmg sagacity which saw through the glittering renown which mere military prowess gives, and prevented at least the precipitate gift of honours and rewards ; which saw, from the beginning, that Arnold was a brave bad man — a man not to be trusted. Congress, or its majority, to our mind, appears to greater advantage in its cautious de- meanour to Arnold, in 1777, in promoting Lincoln, and St. Clair, and Stirling, all true-hearted men, as brave though not so reckless as Arnold, and far more honest, than it did wlit^n, two years later, it espoused his cause, and sustained a secret traitor in an unworthy squabble with state authorities. Besides, in this false sympathy with Arnold's wrongs, let it be remembered that when, at last, he became a traitor, he had all he coveted — rank, honour, sinecure ; and yet was base enough to sacrifice them all, according to the theory of his apologists, to secret vengeance for an ancient wronsf. Who then should say that Congress ever did him injustice by a wise and provident caution? Arnold reached the northern army before General Gates took command, and was employed by Schuyler, who seems to have had a precise estimate of his merits, in several distant enterprises on the Hudson and Mohawk. No sooner did the new commander-in-chief arrive, than difficulty arose, and jealousy was aroused that never after was quieted. General Gates was a man of peculiar habits of mind and conduct, and with little or none of that practical wisdom which enabled Washington to move on harmoniously with men of all sorts of tempers and dispo- sitions. An adult European soldier, he came to this country with professional notions and prejudices which could not be overcome, and he was the last man in the world to tolerate Arnold's swaggering brutality of manner or insolence of deportment. Perhaps less creditable in- 22* R 258 BENEDICT ARNOLD. flfiences and antipathies operated, and he was jealous of the rising fame of his dashing subordinate. It is very manifest that the misunderstanding was productive of injury to the public cause, and might have led to disas- trous results but for the infatuation of the British com- manders, which led them, step by step, in a course of disaster, till rescue and escape became impracticable. Competent military judges have thought that had Arnold not been interfered with, at the first skirmish near Behmus's Heights, there would have been a defeat, instead of an ultimate capitulation of the English army. In the second battle, on the 7th of October, it may safely be said there is nothing more painfully grotesque in our history than the spectacle of a second in command riding, contrary to orders, like a madman to the field of battle, brandishing his sword close to the enemy's guns, literally at the can- non's mouth, striking his own fellow-officers, and at last falling, as was thought, fatally wounded on a field of vic- tory which his very audacity had contributed to gain. "He exposed himself," says Wilkinson — no very favour- able witness by-the-by — "with great folly and temerity at the time we were engaged front to front with the Ger- mans ; and, w^hilst he was flourishing his sword and en- couraging the troops, he, in a state of furious distraction, struck an officer on the head, and wounded him; the first impulse of the officer was to shoot him, for which purpose be raised his fusee ; but, recollecting himself, he was about to remonstrate, when Arnold darted off to another part of the field. Soon after this incident, finding himself on our right, he dashed to the left through the fire of the two lines, and escaped unhurt; he then turned the right of the enemy, and, collecting fifteen or twenty riflemen, threw himself with this party into the rear of the enemy just as they gave way, when his leg was broke and his horse killed under him." Tne wound tnus madly gained made Arnold a cripple SECRET MERCANTILE PARTNERSHIP. 259 for life, and with this sharp scene, Burgoyne's army sur rendering immediately after, he closed his active life as an American soldier. At this moment, with all his faults, such is the bright hue which surrounds every act of much personal daring, no man stood higher in popular favour. We approach now the last chapter of Arnold's strange career, dating it from the time he assumed the command at Philadelphia. Proud of his honourable wound, he reached the camp at Valley Forge at the moment when the news of the French alliance was received, and the enemy were preparing to evacuate the city. On the 17th of June, 1778, the British crossed the Delaware, and the same day the exiled Americans returned to their homes. Arnold was put in command by Washington, and at once entered on his delicate and responsible duties. Never was a man less suited to his trust. Washington's letter of in- structions, dated the 19th of June, seems to limit his du- ties to mere matters of necessary police, in the transition state in which the city necessarily was on the departure of the enemy, and before the restoration of the regular authori- ties. But Arnold was not to be thus controlled. The in- vincible instinct of his nature must have indulgence, and here in a disturbed community, with business relation^ unsettled, was a fitting occasion. W^ithin three days after he took command, he entered into a secret mercantile partnership, and regularly executed a contract in the fol- lowing words: ""Whereas, by purchasing goods and necessaries for the use of the public, sundry articles not wanted for that pur- pose may be obtained : It is agreed by the subscribers that all such goods and merchandise which are or may be bought by the clothier-general or persons appointed by him, shall be sold for the joint equal benefit of the subscribers, and be purchased at their risk. Witness our hands this 22d day of June, 1778. B. Arnold, Etc '260 BENEDICT ARNOLD. It was signed by two other individuals, to whora i:io especial blame attaches except so far as they connived a the glaring misconduct on the part of the commanding ge- neral. For a military man to promote his personal and pecuniary advantage at the expense of a conquered enemy is bad enough, but what shadow of excuse can there be for such conduct to friends and fellow-countrymen, who were just recovering from the ravages and spoliations of a foreign foe! This secret bargain was but the first of a long series of official delinquencies, w^hich were at last detected and exposed by the local authorities. Those who find in what they call the persecution by the Pennsylvania execu- tive, a pretext or apology for Arnold's treason, would do well to look farther back and find it in that course of secret and necessarily disastrous trading adventure, which had its origin in a contract for a secret purchase of public stores and clothing. But other influences were at work to precipitate his downfall. There was at this period a strange and pestilent social atmosphere in the American metropolis. Philadel- phia had been the seat of proprietary influence, in whose sunshine had grown up a sort of aristocracy, in its little sphere, of the most exclusive kind. It was not entirely disaffected. So far from it that many leading whigs, mi- litary and civil officers, shared its sympathies, and, what is more to be deplored, its intense antipathies. A party question had also arisen in Pennsylvania which attracted and promoted the most bitter animosities. The constitu- tion of 1776, framed in the midst of the first excitement of the war, was liable to many speculative objections, and piiblic feeling, especially in Philadelphia, was much di- vided on the subject. The heat was revived in full ani- mation on the return of the Americans, and all the disaf- fected without exceptioii, those who owed their lives and property to the forbearance of the constitutionid authorities, threw themselves into the ranks of the adverse party. A EXCITEMENT IN PHILADELPHI/iL. 261 disafTected aristocracy, and an exasperated party opposi- tion, formed a most dangerous and iroublesome combina- tion. The local government was actually defied. The authorities were told they did not dare to execute the laws, and when at last two notorious abettors of treason were brought to punishment, and others of a still higher rank in society were threatened, there was a perfect howl of exas- peration, a chorus in which party prejudice and treacherous sympathies mingled their accents strangely. To join the enemy, to hold a British commission, to waylay the Ame- rican leaders, to feed and aid and comfort an invading enemy, to co-operate in the burning of houses and de- struction of property, for every house near the British lines was ruthlessly devastated — all these were venial offences for which any penalty was too severe, and those who ac- cording to the forms of law contributed to assert the public rights, whether as judges, or jurymen, or counsel, were branded as butchers and murderers. Carlisle and Roberts are still, we believe, saints and martyrs of the canon of treason. During the whole of this period of excitement, Arnold's command continued, and, to the delight of all whose an- tipathies have been thus described, he threw himself into the ranks of the local opposition. It was a perfect God- send to the leaders of faction and fomentors of disaffection, to have the continental commandant on their side, and mingled with the complaints of local oppression, was fer- vent and ecstatic praise of his gallantry and his sacrifices. Fashion, the most vulgar and intolerant of tyrants, shut its sanctioning eyes to Arnold's lowly birth and the rudeness of his early calling, and the heroines of the Meschianza smiled with gracious condescension on the New London horsedealer. All they asked in return for this favour, was that he should unite with them and theirs in denunciation ot the local authorities, and in sarcasms on the sturdy in- tegrity of the constitutional whigs. Arnold ha 1 motives 262 BENEDICT ARNOLD. enough for this sort of affiliation. Not only was his vanity flattered, but his heart — if heart he had — was touched by the kind consideration with which he was treated. He soon courted and married one of the brightest of the belles of the Meschianza — on whom beauty and toryism were equally distinguished — nor was this all. Arnold's pecu- niary necessities, the fruit of frustrated schemes and spe- culations, led him naturally to those who had the means, and might, if he courted them, have the inclination to re- lieve him. The wealth of Philadelphia was altogether on fhe tory side. The few acts of confiscation into which the new government had been goaded, left abundant and well mvested wealth in the hands of the disaffected. Arnold played his game accordingly, and in less than two months, cheered onward by his new confederates, tempted by his own instincts of wrong, he was involved in a fierce con- flict with the local authorities — busy at his work of insolent defiance, and grateful for the applause his abettors be- stowed, and the wages which, in all probability, he was mean enough to accept. For a time and till the govern- ment was permanently and securely reorganized by the installation of a new executive, Arnold seemed to have the best of the squabble. But in November, 1778, General Reed being unani- mously elected President of the state, the game of faction was suddenly blocked. Reed brought to his new duty not only talent of a high order, but military experience gained by the side of Washington, thorough knowledge and ap- preciation of the precise line which separates the different functions of public service, and a resolute determination of purpose, that could be neither overcome nor circura- \ented. He was full of resources, and had an aptitude to meet exigencies which has rarely been equalled. He had besides the respect and confidence of all parties, for though opposed in theory to the new constitution, he thought chanore and amendment should be postponed till the raoM SENTENCED TO BE REPRIMANDED. 263 urgent necessities of the war were over. Of course in thus claiming for General Reed on his accession th confidence of all, the notoriously disaffected are excepted. They and Iheir connexions hated him with inveterate hate. Against the power and ability of such an executive, Arnold and his abettors struggled in vain. Neither their obloquy nor their blandishments availed to turn aside the course of justice thus administered. In vain did Arnold send mes- sages of insult and defiance to the council ; in vain did he affect to despise, as too minute for notice, the charges pre- ferred against him — merely '< the giving a pass to a trading enemy, and using public wagons for private uses;" in vain did he invoke the authority of Congress, a portion of whose members as if to expiate past neglect espoused his cause ; in vain did he cite the high authority of George Clinton and Jay, and, by misquoting his opinions, bring the name of Washington to his support. Mr. Reed and the council persevered in asserting the majesty of the law, forced Congress, though deeply infected by faction, to listen, and to grant an inquiry ; and at last convinced a court of iVrnold's fellow-soldiers that it was their duty to sentence him to be reprimanded for offences, the nature of which were illustrative of the peddling nature of his evil passions. Arnold's rage knew no bounds, and there is no where to be found a more characteristic memorial of his character, than in the arrogant and defamatory defence, well known to the historical student, which he made be- fore the court-martial. Snatching any weapon of calumny that happened to be at hand, he madly hurled it at his ac- cusers, and seemed to think it was defence enough for him to praise himself and slander others. Thus passed more than a year in altercation in public, and wild and daring commercial speculations in private. Disappointment and disaster attended both. Disgrace, as we have seen, was the fruit of his political broils ; whilst bankruptcy, and necessity that could no longer be evaded 264 B B: N E D I C T ARNOLD. or trifled wilh, followed close on the footsteps of pecuniary adventure. The spring and summer of 1779 found Arnold a hopelessly ruined man ; and then it was that the spirit of evil, always vigilant of its victim's moment of extremity, \vhisj)ered to his susceptible mind the suggestion of lucra- tive treason. Not such treason as led Coriolanus, or the Constable of Bourbon, to fight against his country — not such as tempted Warwick or Percy, the treason that finds excuse in wounded pride or insulted honour; Ar- nold's was none of these, but it was one of the coarsest quality. It was nothing more than mercenary, money- making treason ; and if the council of Pennsylvania had been his friends and not his accuser — if they had been willing to wink at his oppression, and submit to his insults, the result would have precisely been the same. For the sake of human nature, pitiable in its slow yield- ing to temptation, it may be hoped that .Vrnold did not submit to these promptings of despair without a struggle. His application for pecuniary relief to the French minister, seems to show this. He was more willing to degrade himself before the representative of a friendly power, than to barter away his country and his own character to an enemy. He preferred begging alms from Luzerne, to tradinji:, with the feart\d risks of such a tratfic, with Sir Henry Clinton. But when the calm admonition of the French envoy repelUul him, no avenue seemed open save that which led him to the enemy. He had, let it be re- membered^ no domestic security for doing right — no fire- side guardianship to protect him from the tempter. Re- jecting, as we do utterly, the theory that his wife was the instigator of his crime — all common principles of human action being opposed to it — we still believe that there was nothing in her inlluence or associations to countervail the persuasions to which he ultimately yielded. She was young, and gay, and tVivoIous; fond of ilisplay and admira tion, and used to luxury, she was utterly unfiited for the COUUESPONDENCE WITH ANDRE. 2G5 duties and privations of a poor man's wife. A loyalist's cJaiigliler, she had been taught to inourn over even tlie poor pageantry of colonial rank and authority, and to re- collect with [)leasure the pomp of those brief days of en- joyment, when nuli;ary men of noble station were ner ad- mirers. yVrnold had no counsellor on his pillow to urge him to the imitation of homely repid)lican virtue, to stimu- late him to follow the ruggcui path of a revolutionary patriot. He fell, and though his wife did not tempt or counsel him to ruin, there is no reason to think she ever utlered a word or made a sign to deter him. Arnold began his correspondence with Major Andre about the monih of April, 1779. Andre had been in Philadelphia whilst the British army had possession of the city, and was well ac(piaiuted with the Shippen family, into which Arnold married. Thoufjjh feigned names were used in this correspondence, " Gustavus" by Arnold, and "John Anderson" by Andre, it is certain that the corres- pondents knew each other. The intermediate agent to whose care the letters were intrusted, was a refugee clergy- man, of the name of Odell, who, no doubt, well knew she American correspondent; whilst throughout Andre was writing in an undisguised hand to Mrs. Arnold, thus en- abling Arnold, who would probably see his wife's letters, to know who "John Anderson" was. The real design was covered by the pretext of a mercantile correspond- ence. So long as Arnold remained on duty at Philadel- phia, though he was able, from time to time, to send such scraps of intelligence as he gained in his correspondence with Washington, he was hardly worth the purchasing ; and Sir Henry Clinton seemed to hold back, and to show n;» > ery great anxiety to burden himself with one pensioner more, or to pay much for the bargain which was offered to him. They had paid dearly enough fi)r Galloway, in 1777. In order, therefore, to ap})reciale himself in the market, Arnold found it necessary to secure some new and Vol. I. 23 26G BENEDICT ARNCLU. kmporfanl (rust ; and his mind seems early to have been directed to ihe command at West Point. He directed all his energies and all his powers of intrigue, to this object. His partisans in Congress, and his friends in the army, many of whom persuaded themselves that he was an in- jured man, seconded his wishes; and at last, though witii obvious reluctance, General Washington yielded to their importunity, and directed him to take charge of the garri- son at the Point, or, in other words, of the posts on the line of the Hudson river, of which, in military language, West Point was the key. Arnold took charge of the post in the beginning of August. The moment this occurred, Sir Henry Clinton felt that at any cost he was worth se- curing, and a new and more direct interest was felt in the traitor's correspondence. Pausing here one moment, let us ask, is not the retro- spect painful beyond expression, of th.e successful simula- tion which this wicked man was practising, and of the ready credulity with which words of defamation from his lips against the truest patriots of the country once were listened to. " General Washington and the officers of the army," Arnold wrote, " bitterly execrate Mr. Reed and his council for their villanous attempt to injure me."* << Conscious of my innocence,^^ said he, in his defence be fore the court-martial — and one may wonder that the calumny did not palsy his tongue — " conscious of my own innocence, and of the unworthy methods taken to injure me, I can with boldness say to my persecutors in general, and the chief of them in particular, that, in the hour of danger, when the aflairs of America wore a gloomy aspect. • On the discovery of his treason, Wasliington thus nailed this false hiod to the writer. "I cannot," he wrote, " suflbr myself to delay a moment in pronouncing that if Arnold (in his letter to his wife — ' I am treated witvi the greatest iioliteness by Gt'ncral Washington and the officers of the army, vvho bitterly execrate Mr. Reed and his council fa? their villanous attempt to injure me,') meant to comprcluMul me in the Utter part of the expression, that he asserted an absolute falsuhoud." AT WEST POINT. 267 when our illustrious general was retreating wiih a handful of men, I did not propose to my associates to quit him, and sacrifice the cause of my country to ray personal safety, by going over to the enemy, and making ray peace." And then he would go to his secret chamber, and write to Sir Henry Clinton, and plan the traffic of treason on which his soul was bent. And then, too, there were those who listened with greedy ears to his slanders, applauded his boastful arrogance, and, in the heat of passion and preju- dice, were willing to sacrifice the hard-earned fame of patriot men to his malignity. The sympathy which Ar- nold, in the midst of his treasonable correspondence, was able to command in Philadelphia, is one of the most singu- lar and least creditable incidents of those trying times. There must have been many a burning blush, and many a downcast eye, when the news burst on the community which had fondled and flattered Arnold in his hour of pride and triumph, that their favourite had deserted to the British. But to return to the now impending catastrophe. Ar- nold's first care on arriving at West Point, was to put him- self in more direct communication with the British com- mander-in-chief. Mysterious correspondence, with its jargon of "invoices" and "shipments," and "debtor and creditor," would answer no longer. He accordingly took measures to solicit an interview with some accredited agent of the enemy. This was not easy. Washington was on the spot inspecting the posts, and taking deliberate mea- sures with his most experienced counsellors for an offensive movement against New York, in conjunction with Count Rochambeau. Under a calm and imperturbable exierior, as Arnold well knew, there was an acute vigilance, and a power of penetration before which his guilty spirit quailed. Yet even here, with this eye upon him, and wiih that con- sciousness of guil; which makes the brave bad man tremble and gro V pale, Arnold's nerve sustained him, Once only 268 BENEDICT ARNOLD. as we read, did ne show agitation. In crossing one of the ferries with Washington and his staff, the Vuhure sloop of war was seen at a distance, having on board, as Arnold well knew, Colonel Robinson, sent by Sir Henry Clinton to meet him. Washington watched the vessel with his glass, whilst Lafayette jocularly remarked, that Arnold ought to find out what had become of the expected naval reinforcement from France, as he had convenient modes of intercourse with the enemy. For a moment Arnold lost his presence of mind, and made a reply, the intemperance of which might have roused suspicions of any other man. But Washington entertained none, and the matter dropped. The next day (19th September) Washington continued his journey to Hartford, and Arnold was left to his unim- peded work of villany. His first step was to advise Sir Henry Clinton that he would be in attendance under due. precautions, the next day, near Dobbs's Ferry, ready to meet his messenger. The following hurried letter to a forage agent in the neighbourhood, has never before been published, and bears date the day that Arnold and Wash- ington parted. The autograph indicates hurry and agita- tion : To Mr. Jefferson^ Fredericksburg^ JV. Y. Headquarters, Rob. House, September 19th, 1780. Sir, — You will please to pick out of the horses you have now in your custody or which you may hereafter receive, a pair of the best wagon horses, as also two of the very best saddle horses you can find, for ray use. You'll send them to me as soon as possible. I am, sir, your most obedient servant, B. Arnold, M. General* On receiving Arnold's message. Sir Henry Clinton at once despatched Andre on his fatal and fruitless errand. • The orio^inal of this letter is in possession of Edward P. Ingrabnin, »3«q., of Philadelphia. MEETING WITH ANDRE. 269 He irrived with all expediiion on board the Vulture, and thence, by a letter or some pretext of business, and under the well-known name of "John Anderson," advised Ar- nold of his presence. The Vulture then lay in the narrow channel of the Hudson, close to Dobbs's Ferry, and near Tellon's Point; but hour after hour passed without any iulelligence from Arnold, and Andre began to despair of success in his enterprise. Could the American, after all, be trifling wi-ih them.'' was it a cunning device to entrap a portion of the British army into some ambuscade in the Highland passes? had all the scheming, and secret manage- ment and correspondence, been for nothing.'' All these were doubts and questions arising in the minds of Andre and his fellow-counsellors that night in the cabin of the Vulture. Suddenly the sound of approaching oars were heard, the rude hail of the sailor on the forecastle watch, and, in a few moments, Joshua H. Smith, Arnold's myste- rious confidant, whose precise agency in this scheme of wickedness has never yet been ascertained, came on board, and presented to Colonel Robinson and the naval commandant his credentials from x'^rnold, and a written request that " the person" should come on shore for the purpose of a personal interview. This was a new and unlooked for turn of the affair, and some discussion en- sued as to what should be done. Andre soon put an end to it by announcing his fixed resolution to land, be the danger what it might. The game he was playing required boldness, and necessarily involved peril of no slight ex- tent. Covering his uniform with a close and heavy over- coat, he jumped into the boat, which in a few minutes, pushed onward by men who felt throughout the danger they had run, reached the shore. In the dense under- wood, at a short distance from the bank, at the foot of the Clove mountain, shrouded in the thickest darkness, Arnold and Andre met. They met, and talked long and anxiously. The secrets 23* 270 BENEDICT ARNOLD. of that midnight conference never have been revealed. With what feelings they must have listened to each other's whispers, in the darkness of that hour! The young Englishman anxious, confident, and careless of any consequence but failure in his enterprise ; looking forward to a career of usefulness and distinction, to be begun by a great resuh : the American, brave enough in the field of battle, but worse than a coward in the progress of a plan like this, starting at every sound that broke the stillness of the hour, and whispering his details of treason, and bar- tering away for money the rich honours of a past career. His future, in any event, was heavily clouded. Whilst the conference was in progress, they were interrupted by an intimation from Smith that his boat's crew were be- coming impatient, and that daylight,, near at hand, would oblige them to remove from a situation so exposed. Thus disturbed in their incomplete arrangements, Andre was persuaded to consent that the boatmen should be tiismissed, and to accompany Arnold to a point higher up the shore, where he might remain concealed till all should be con- summated. Here was the fatal error that cost him his life. Mounting the horses, which were at hand — probably those "very best" required by the letter of the 19th of September, they rode on towards Smith's house, a few miles higher up. On their way, in the dusk of the early morning, to Andre's horror and amazement — for there is no reason to doubt that on this point he was sincere in what he said — he heard the challenge of the sentinels, and found himself a spy and a U-aitor's confederate within the American lines. Up to this time he wore his British unifcMui, Andre and Arnold remained at Smith's house during the day ; and, whilst there, ihey observed that the Vulture, annoyed by the neighbouring batteries, had fallen lowe. down the river, thus adding to the embarrassment of An- dre's situation. No mode of escape remained, but by a ABREST OF ANDRE. 271 journey by laud, on the left bank of the river, through the line of American vvoiks, and a most disturbed district of country. On the evening of the 22d, Andre, having left his regimentals, and assumed a plain dress, in company with Smith, crossed the river, on his way to New York. He had with him, concealed in his stockings, detailed de- scriptions, in Arnold's wri'jng, of the post and garrison of West Point, and the distribution of the troops, who were to be so disposed, or rather dispersed, that no efl'ectual resistance could be made to an assault. These papers have been recently published, and there is nothing which so strongly illustrates this tangled plan of iniquity as these curious memoranda. Strange to say, these were in Ar- nold's writing, without the least attempt at disguise or concealment. The rest of this dark story is well known. Andre s journey from Verplank's Point to Tarrytown, near which he was arrested on the morning of the 23d September, has been often described, and yet familiar as it is, no one can now read it but with breathless interest. On the morning of the 25th, time enough having elapsed as Ar- nold might well suppose for Andre to be out of danger, and Smith having the day before reported him to be well on his journey, Jamieson's unaccountable letter was re- ceived communicating the news of the arrest. Arnold re- ceived it whilst breakfasting with two of Washington's staff at his headquarters, at Robinson's house. The shock of such intelligence must have been tremendous, but his characteristic hardihood did not fail him. No one of his guests observed any remarkable agitation at the moment, though afterwards they remembered, or fancied that they did, that Arnold's lip quivered, and his brow became pal- lid as he read the letter which told mm not only that his elaborate plans were frustrated, but that he was in extieme personal danger. —He saw that no time was to be lost. Washington was momentarily expected on his return from 272 BENEDICT ARNOLD. Hartford, and ihere was reason to fear that the next news might be an order for his arrest. Jaraieson might recover from his bewilderment, and cut off his retreat. Arnold, pretending that he was called suddenly to West Point, hastened to his wife's room, told of his crime and his dan- ger, but, unable to pause long enough to utter a word of consolation for her wretchedness, mounting his horse, he hurried to the river bank, where his boat lay always in readiness. Hoisting his handkerchief as a flag of truce to pass the American batteries and guard-boats, he was in a few minutes on the deck of the Vulture, which lay at anchor a short distance below. How diflferent w^as his at- titude from that which, in the triumph of his treason, he hoped to occupy! Solitary, powerless, without influence or success, he came to throw himself on the reluctant cha- rity of those whom he knew despised him, and to confess that all the machinations from which he had promised so much, were utterly inoperative of result. And when after- wards the news of poor Andre's fate reached the British camp, what new loathing must have been felt among Andre's friends and fellow-soldiers for the worthless blood- slained traitor! Never did Washington appear to greater advantage; never did the traits of his character, his grave deliberative heroism, his power of control, more happily exhibit them- selves than on the detection of Arnold's treason, and in the punishment of Andre. From the first moment of dis- covery to the last, he vvas betrayed into no vehemence of language, or violence of temper. Deeply mortified at find- ing his confidence misplaced, his only anxiety was to do justice to those against whom Arnold and his partisans had sought to poison him, and to remove the idea that their wiles had been successful. In this view he wrote promptly and decisively to Governor Reed who had been the especial target of malignity, and branded on Arnold's unblushing forehead the memorable words which have HIS DEATH 272 already been more than once qiioted. Sincerely sympa- thizing with Andre's misfortunes, and mourning with a brave man's pity at his inevitable fate, Washington knew diat to allow the course of justice to be turned aside bv piTSonal considerations would be fatal to the substantial interests of the cause for which America was fighting, and a bounty on treason hereafter. If Andre who had come secretly with a traitor in the American camp, was par- doned merely because he had rank and accomplishment and talent, how could execution be hereafier done on any one? Washington decided it like a wise and good and brave man, and no impartial inquirer has ever condemned him. The blood of Andre was upon the head of Arnold. We have not the heart to follow the traitor farther, or to narrate his ruffianlike incursions at the head of British troops and refugees into Virginia and Connecticut. In enormity they exceed belief. Nor have we space to com- plete the record of his contemned old age. A mendicant of royal bounty, wandering about the streets of London — insulted in the gallery of parliament, repelled by his own countrymen as an object they detested, Arnold languished out the residue of his life in obscurity, and died in London, on the 14th June, 1801, at the age of sixty-one. A late writer has said that " Arnold's treason has sunk the memory of his noble qualities," and seems to intimate that in this oblivion, injustice has been done. If we have read the narrative of his life aright, if the scrutiny of his whole career, made in no spirit of detraction, is not utterly deceptive, if boyhood with its malicious mischief, and man- hood in its ascending scale of crime justify any inference, if, as we believe it to be, treason to one's country is a mode of iniquity that excludes the redeeming qualities which sometimes soften crime, then ought we to reject de- cisively that indulgent or perverse theory which finds ex- cuse in one solitary, detached, accidental act of virtuous impulse But for Arnold's kindness to Warren's orphan S 274 BENEDICT ARNOLD. children, an incident of which quite as much has been made as it deserves, a thousand crimes would have been linked to no single virtue, and the monotony of his career would have been dreary indeed. Even as it is, in the name of American patriotism — of the unthanked virtue of the Revolution, of those who first detected and at vast per- sonal risk and in the face of a tide of obloquy, exposed his enormities, of Washington, whom he basely betrayed, and would have sacrificed — in the name of all that was good and generous and truly heroic in our heroic age, do we remonstrate against a word of astute apology or exte- nuation of that which the common sense of mankind has united to condemn. The solitary traitor of the American Revolution should be allowed to stand on the bad eminence which his iniquity has won. MAJOR-GENERAL WILLIAM SMALLWOOD. This officer was a native of Maryland. He arrived in New York at the head of a battalion on the 8th of August, 1776, and was in the actions which followed Long Island and at White Plains. On the 23d of October he was cre- ated a brigadier-general. In the summer of 1777, he accompanied General Sullivan on his expedition to Staten Island. When the British arrived in the Chesapeake, he was despatched to assemble the militia of the western shore of Maryland, with about one thousand of whom he joined the main army on the 28th of September. In the battle of Germantown, General Forman and General Smallwood led the militia of New Jersey and Maryland, On the 19th of December, learning that the British in- JOHN P. D E HAAS. 276 tended to establish a post at Wilmington, in Delaware, the commander-in-chief directed General Smallwood to occupy that place. In the following year he was not en- gaged in any conspicuous service. In September, 1780, while he was with the array under General Gates, in the south, he was appointed a major-general, upon the ground that his state was entitled to an officer of that rank. When General Gates was superseded, after the battle of Camden, by General Greene, General Smallwood re- turned to the north, refusing to serve under Baron Steu- ben, who was his senior officer, and declaring his intention to leave the service unless Congress should cause his commission to be dated two years before his appoint- ment.* General Smallwood was elected a member of Congress by Maryland, in 1785, and in the same year was chosen governor. He held the latter office three years. He died in February, 1792. BRIGADIER-GENERAL JOHN P. DE HAAS. John Philip De Haas was probably a native of Penn- sylvania. He is alluded to in a letter addressed to Mif- flin as a man who will be likely to do good service wfth opportunity. He was appointed a brigadier-general for Pennsylvania on the 21st of February, 1777. • This claim was merely absurd. General Washington said of it, in a letter to Greene, dated 9th of January, 1780, " I cannot conceive upon what principles his claim of seniority is founded. If the date of his com- mission is to be carried back to any given period previous to his appoint- ment, it may supersede not only the officers now in question, but many others, and ind^^ed derange and throw into confusion the rank of th« whole line of major-generals." MAJOR-GENERAL ARTHUR ST. CLAIR. The unhappy history of Arthur St. Clair is familiar in lis more prominent features. It is known that he was brave, patriotic, and esteemed by the greatest of men ; thai in the game of war he was a loser, and that he suffered that loss of consideration which is usually incurred by misfortune. But with the details of his life no one has made us acquainted. We glean with difficulty the few particulars that are accessible, from the narrative of his last disastrous campaign, and from contemporaneous memoirs and correspondence. He was born in Edinburgh in the autumn of 1734, of a respectable but not opulent family ; and after graduating at the university of his native city, studied medicine. The inactive and monotonous life of a physician, however, did not suit his ardent temperament, and obtaining a lieuten- ant's commission, through some influential relation, he entered the army, and in 1755 arrived with Admiral Boscawen in Canada, where he served several years with distinguished credit, and was present with General Wolfe, m September, 1759, in the battle on the plains of Abra- ham, in W'hich that heroic commander purchased victory and conquest with his life. He was now made a captain, and after the peace of 1763 was appointed to the com- mand of Fort Ligonier, in western Pennsylvania. It is not known how long St. Clair retained his commis- sion in the British army ; but his correspondence with Governor Penn shows that he purchased a tract of land, entered upon the business of farming, and turned his ma- thematical knowledge to advantage as a surveyor, some- time before the close of 1773, when he was an active and prominent magistrate in Westmoreland county. He 276 ABANDONMENT OF TICONDEROGA 277 watched with interested attention the events whicn pre- ceded the Revohition, and was known, as well for his patriotism as for his ability, to the intelligent friends of liberty throughout the country. In Decenaber, 1775, he was appointed a colonel in the continental army. At this time he was clerk of the Court of Quarter Sessions, register of wills, lecorder of deeds, and surveyor of the county ; and all his offices were lucrative. He enjoyed the confidence and friendship of his acquaintances, was rapidly accumu- lating a fortune, and had a wife to whom he was tenderly attached, and five children equally dear tohim. But holding ^hat there was no law above the need of his country, he quickly abandoned his prosperous ease; and reporting himself to the Congress, in Philadelphia, on the 22d of January, 1776, he received instructions to raise a regi- ment for service in Canada. In six weeks his ranks were filled, and on the 11th of May he was in the vicinity of Qirebec, just in time to cover the retreat of the defeated and dispirited forces under Arnold. He remained in the north during the summer, associated with Sullivan, An- thony Wayne, and other officers, and winning the re- spect of all of them by his intelligence, activity, and agreeable manners. On the 9th of August he was ap- pointed a brigadier-general, and in the autumn was ordered to join the commander-in-chief, in New Jersey, where he participated in the events of Trenton and Princeton. Thus far the career of St. Clair had been prosperous. His military experience acquired during the war with France, and his knowledge of the country and the spirit and resources of the people, gave him an advantage at the commencement of the struggle over most of the native and foreign officers in the continental army ; and though he had not had an opportunity to distinguish himself in the field, he had steadily grown in the favourable estimation of the commander-in-chief, the array, and the Congress. On the 19th of February, 1777, he was appointed a major- V^M.. I. 24 278 ARTHUR ST. CLAIM. generi\l, and artor performing a short time tne duties of adjutant-gtMU'ral, was ordtMcd to report liimself to General Scluiylor, tlu'n in charge of the northern department, under whose direction, on the r2th of June, he assumed the com- mand of Tieonderoga. He found the Avorks here and at Mount Independence, on (he ojipositc side of Lake Cham- plain, garrisoned hy h'ss than two tliousand men, badly armed, and nearly destitute of stores ; but divided into several regiments, with full complenu'uts of olllcers, and three brigadiers. General Gales, in the previous year, had demanded for the defence of Ticonderoga ten thousand regulars, and authority to call for an unlimited number of volunteers ; but Congress had since received the erroneous information that a large portion of the British army in Canada was on the way to New York by sea, and that no serious incursions wrrt> to be ajiprehended from the northern frontier; ami tlu- troops needed for the defence of the posts above Albany were consequently detained near the Hudson. On the 5th of July, having ascertained that a force of more than seven thousand British and Germans was approaching under General liurgoyne, and would completely invest the place in twenty-four hours. General St. Clair determined, with the unanimous advice of a council of officers, consisting of General De Rochefermoy, General Patterson, General Poor, and Colonel-Command- ant Long, immediately to evaciuite the post. At midnight, Colonel Long, with the principal portion of the stores and several companies, de})arted in boats for Skeensborough, at the head of the lake, and at the same hour the army crossed unperceived to the Vermont shore, whence the main body marched by way of Benson and Fairhaven toward Castleton, and the rear guard, consisting of three imperfect regiments under Colonels Warner, Francis, and Hale, starteil for the same point by the more northern route of Hubbardton. The battle of Hubbardton, which was fought with singu- ABANDONMENT OF TICONDEROGA. 279 lar bravery by troops worthy to be compared wilh the famous riflemen of Morgan, took place on the following day. Assoon as the retreat of tjie Americans had been ascertained, General Frazicr commenced the pursuit, and coming up with Colonel Hale's detachinent of militia, in the western part of the town, easily made them jjrisoners. Warner and Francis chose a strong position, about two miles farther eastward, and eight miles from Castleton, where the British attacked them with great impetuosity, expecting an easy victory ; but after an hour's continuous and ra})id firing they began to give way, and would have been defeated but for the timely arrival of General Reide- sel with a large reinforcement, when the Americans were compelled to give up the contest. Hale was a prisoner, Francis was killed, and Warner, with a considerable por- tion of his marksmen, reached Manchester, and united with Stark, in time to aid in the brilliant affair of Bennington. From two to three hundred, who had lied in disord(.'r, re- joined St. Clair, on the 8th and 9th, at Rutland, and others by various routes found their way to the camp of Gates, at Saratoga. The British loss in killed and wounded was two hundred and eiglity-tlirt'c, and about the same num- ber were left on the field and in the nrighbouring farm- houses by the Americans. On the r2th of July General St. Clair, who on account of the occupation of Skeens- borough by the British had been compelled to change the line of his retreat, reached Fort Edward, where the deci- mated companies of Colonel Long had already arrived by the way of Fort Anne. From the gallantry shown in its ca2:)ture by Allen and Arnold, near the commencement of the war, and for other causes, the retention of Ticonderoga appears at this time ^0 have been regarded as a point of honour ; the condem- nation of St. Clair for its evacuation was common and earnest, and Schuyler shared in the clamorous censure be- stowed by the disappointed, vexed, and unreasoning upon 280 ARTnUR ST. CLAIR. his subordinate. Both generals were suspended and sum- moned to Philadelphia, and Gates was placed in ooniniand of the district, in sciison to reap the advantages of Scluiyler's wise administration and arraufjements. Tiiouch St. Clair made constant etlorts to procure a trial, he was for many months unsuccessfid. He remained however with the army ; was with Washington on the lllh of September, 1777, at Brandywine ; was employed with Hamilton to settle a gene- ral cartel with the British comn^issioners at Amboy on the 9th of March, 1780; and by his faithfujnes.s and activity in many ways showed how much he was superior to that policy towartl him which Washington himself character- ized as "cruel and oppressive." At length the affair was investigated, by a court martial, whose report was sub- mitted to Congress in (he mouth of October, 1778. The court were unanimously of opinion that Ticonderoga could not have been def Mided against the approaching army of Burgoyne,and that the commander evinced sound juilgment and heroic resolution in abandoning it ; and closed their report with the declaration that i^Mrrjor- General St. Clair is acquitted loith the hig/wst honour of the charges exhibited against Itim.^'' Congress approved without a dissenting voice the pro<>eedings of the court, and the injured general, thus triumphantly vindicated, was restored to his rightful position. Washington's confidence in St. Clair had not been in the slightest degree impaired, and he soon testified in a flattering manner his appreciation of his merits. The movement of Sir Henry Clinton with a large body of troops toward Rhode Island, occasioned preparations for an attack on New York, and he was ollered the command of the light infantry, usually held by Lafayette. The return of Clinton however prevented the attempt, and St. Clair was not called to any prominent service, until the defection of Arnold, when he was ordered to take charge of West Point. In 1781 he aided to suppress the mutiny in the GOVERNOR OF THE N. W. T E R R [ T O R Y. 281 Pennsylvania line, and was active in organizing and forwarding troops to the south. He would himself have followed to take command of the army in Virginia, which had been offered to him, but for an order to remain near Philadelphia, induced by the fears of Congress that a blow would be struck at that city to create a diver- sion in favour of Cornwallis. The pressing request of Washington at length caused the order to be revoked, and he was permitted to join the commander-in-chief before Yorktown, where he arrived but a few days before Corn- wallis's capitulation. He was soon after sent with six regiments to reinforce the southern army, and reported him- self to General Greene, at Jacksonburgh, on the 27th of December ; but seeing no prospect of active operations, and confident that the war was nearly over, early in the summer of 1782 he returned to -his family. His course through the Revolution had been useful and honourable but not brilliant, and the consideration in which he was held after its close was evinced by his return to Congress by the legislature of Pennsylvania, in 1786, and his election fts speaker soon :M'ter he took his seat in that body. In the year 1788 General St. Clair was appointed by Congress the first governor of the North-western Territory. The losses he had sustained in the war, from the deprecia- tion of the currency, and other causes, were larger perhaps than had been suffered by any other officer, and his friends saw in this appointroent the means of retrieving his for- tune. But " they did not know," he says, " how little I was qualified to avail myself of any advantages, had they existed ;" and he was probably correct in saying that the acceptance of the office was "the most imprudent act of his life." Upon the organization of the federal govern- ment he was re-appointed to the office by Washington, and he held it until within a few weeks of the termination of the territorial administration, in the winter of 1802-3; when he was removed by Mr. Jer-i-;ji.. 24* 282 ARTHUR ST. CLAIR. It was while he was governor, in 1791, that he suffered his memorable defeat from the western Indians. The failure of the expedition under General Harmer had led to the adoption of more energetic measures for the punish- ment of the refractory tribes north-west of the Ohio, and Governor St. Clair was appointed a major-general, and with fourteen hundred men encamped near the Miami villages, on the 3d of November, 1791. The next morning, an hour before sunrise, ihe army was attacked and in a few minutes surrounded by the savages. The militia, who were in advance, received the first fire, and fled precipi- tately through the main body, throwing them into a confusion from which they did not entirely recover during the action, which lasted about four hours. General St. Clair was in feeble heallh, but he behaved with singular coolness and bravery. His principal officers, and some of his men also, displayed much intrepidity, and made several effective charges v.ith the bayonet ; but the troops did not recover from the surprise into which they were thrown at the com- mencement, and at h'ngtii broke and fled in disorder. The loss in this battle and in the retreat was thirty-eight officers and five hundred and ninety-three men killed, and twenty- one officers and two hundred and forty-two men wounded. A committee of the House of Representatives was appointed to inquire into the causes of this disastrous result, and after a patient investigation of the subject, which extended through two sessions of Congress, it made reports which were honourable to the veteran soldier's reputation and conciliatory to his feelings. After his removal from tlie office of Governor, in 1802, General St. Clair returned once more to Ligonier valley. Fourteen years of fatigue, privation and danger, had left him bereft of the property which remained to him at the close of the Revolution, and the influence he had then possessed at home had also passed away in his long ab- sence He devoted several years to the unsuccesfaful pio POVERTY AND DEATH. 283 secution of claims against the government, which were generally believed to be just, but were barred by techni- calities ; and then, despairing and broken hearted, he sought a shelter in the family of a widowed daughter, who like himself was in the most abject destitution. At length the state of Pennsylvania, from considerations of personal respect and gratitude for his past services, set tied on him an annuity of three hundred dollars, and thi.s was soon after raised to six hundred and fifty, which secured to him a comfortable subsistence for the brief re- mainder of his life. The venerable and unfortunate soldier died at Greensburg, from an injury received while riding near fliat village, on the 31st of August, 1818, in his eighty-fourth year; and in a few days afterwards his widow, who for many years had been partially deranged, died at about the same age. An obelisk has been placed over his remains, inscribed : ^'■A humble monument, wJtich is erected to supply the place of a nobler one due from his country.^'' BRIGADIER-GENERAL SAMUEL ELBERT. Samuel Elbert of Georgia entered the army as a lieu- tenant-colonel in 1776. He was engaged in the expedi- tion against East Florida, and acted gallantly at the head of a brigade in the action at Brier creek, on the second of March, 1779, when he was taken prisoner. He was brevetted brigadier-general on the 3d of November, 1783. In 1786 he was governor of Georgia, and he died at Sa- vannah, in that state, on the 3d of November, 1788, aged ^orty-five years. BRIGADIER-GENERAL WILLIAM IRVINE. WiL/.iAM Irvine was born near Enniskillen, in Ireland, in 1744, and received his classical education at the Uni- versity of Dublin. He evinced at an early age a par- tiality for the military profession, but his desire to enter it wa*] overruled by his parents, in compliance with whose wishes he studied medicine and surgery. Upon receiving his diploma, however, he obtained the appointment of surgeon in (he British navy, in which he continued until near the close of the war with France, from 1754 to 1763, when he resigned his place, removed to America, and settled in Carlisle, Pennsylvania, where in a few years he acquired a high reputation and an extensive practice as a physician. From the beginning. Dr. Irvine was deeply interested in the controversy between the colonies and the home go- vernment. He was a member of the Pennsylvania conven- tion which assembled in Philadelphia on the 15th of July, 1774, to take into consideration the state of the country, and as a member of this body supported the resolutions denouncing the Boston Port Bill, and recommending a continental Congress. He was the representative of Car- lisle until January, 1776, when he was commissioned to raise and command a regiment in the Pennsylvania line. At the head of his troops he reached the mouth of the Sorel, in Canada, on the 10th of June ; was associated with General 'J'hompson in the unsuccessful attempt which was made to surprise the van-guard of the British army at Trois Rivieres ; and with his commander, and about two hundred subordinate officers and privates, was captured and conveyed to Quebec, where in consequence 984 HIS PUBLIC SERVICES. 285 of some misunderstanding respecting exchanges, he was many months detained as a prisoner. Upon his release, he was made a brigadier-general in the militia, in which capacity he was wounded and taken prisoner in the action at Chesnut Hill, New Jersey, in December, 1777. On the 12th of May, 1779, he was appointed a brigadier in the continental service, and in the following summer and winter he was occupied in New Jersey, where he was associated with Lord Stirling in his expedition against Staten Island, and with General Wayne in the affair of Bull's Ferry. For a considerable time he was engaged in recruiting in Pennsylvania, but was not very successful. He applied for and received permission of the commander-in-chief to raise a corps of cavalry, with which to go into active service, but does not appear to have accomplished his design. On the 8th of March, 1782, he received his instructions as commander of Fort Pitt, for which post he immediately marched with the se- cond Pennsylvania regiment. His duties here, compre- hending the defence of the north-western frontier, then menaced with a British and Indian invasion, were difhcult and important, and they were executed with an ability and integrity that secured the approbation of the govern- ment, and his continuance in the command until the close of the war. In 1785, General Irvine was appointed by the Presi- dent of Pennsylvania an agent to examine the public lands set apart in that state for the remuneration of her troops ; and upon the completion of this duty he was elected a member of Congress. Soon after taking his seat in which body, he was selected one of the commis- sioners to settle the accounts between the several states, connected with their respective contributions for the sup- port of the war. He was next a member of the conven- tion for the formation of a constitution of Pennsylvania. At the time of the WTiisky Insurrection in the western 2&(j GEORGE WEEDON. part of that state, he was one of the commissioners, joined with others appointed by Congress, who proceeded to the scene of the revolt, with terms of settlement ; and when the overtures of the commissioners were rejected, he was placed at the head of the Pennsylvania militia which marched aji'ainst the insurirents. When these disturb- ances were brought to a close, General Irvine, now at an advanced age, removed to Philadelphia, where he held the ollice of intendent of military stores, and was presi- dent of the Pennsylvania Society of the Cincinnati until his death, which took place in the summer of 1S04, when he was in the sixty-third year of his age. BRIGADIER-GENERAL GEORGE WEEDON. George W^eedon was a native of Virginia, and before the Revolution was an innkeeper at Fredericksburg. Dr. Smyth, an Englishman who published, in London, in 1784, a very clever book of travels in America, observes that he put up at the house of Weedon, " who was then very active and zealous in blowing the flames of sedi- tion." General Mercer was then a physican and apothe- cary in the same village. Weedon was appointed a bri- gatlier-general on the 21st of February, 1777. While the army was at Valley Forge he retired from the service on account of some didiculty respecting rank with General Woodford. In 17S1 he was with the Virginia militia at Gloucester, in that state, but he never distinguished him- self, nor was intrusted with a separate command. BRIGADIER-GENERAL JAMES M. VARNUM. James Mitchell Varnum was born in Dracut, Massa- chusetts, — long the residence of his family, — in the year 1749, and was educated at the Rhode Island college, now Brown University, at which he graduated with a high reputation for scholarship in the twentieth year of his age, vindicating with much ability in a commencement discus- sion the riiiht of the colonies to resist British taxation. He subsequently studied the law, with Attorney-General Ar- nold, and on being admitted to the bar settled at East Greenwich, where he rapidly acquired an extensive and lucrative practice. As the troubles thickened with Eng- land he turned his attention to a military life, joined the "Kentish Guards," and in 1774 was made commander of that company, which during the revolution gave to the army General Greene, Colonel Crary, Major Whitmarsh, and some thirty other commissioned otlicers. When in- telligence of the battle of Lexington reached Rhode Island, Varnum started with his associates for the scene of action ; but they returned up.on hearing that the enemy bad retired to Boston, and when the legislature asseuiblt-d, the next week, Greene was appointi'd a brigadier-general, . and Varnum and two others colonels, with which rank they were soon after admitted to the continental establishment. On the 21st of February, 1777, Varnum was commis- sioned as a brigadier-general, and on the 3d of March Washington communicated to him his promotion in a very flattering letter. When Burgoyne approached Ticondero- ga, the commander-in-chief, anticipating an attempt to unite to that general's forces the army in New York, or- dered General Varnum with his brigade to Peekskill, on the Hudson ; and on tlie 1st of November he was detached T 287 288 J A INI K S M. V A U N b M. to Red Bank, mIicii' he cominaiuU'cl all llio Aiueriran troops on thi* Jorst'y side of" the Delaware wiien the Hri- tlsli took jiossession of Piuladelphia, haviiii;- oilers to annoy and retard as nuuh as })ossible (he shi|)[)iiig on its passao^e up the river. It was under his direction that Major Thayer, of the Rhode Island regiment, made that gallant defence of Fort Millliii, from the I'Jdi to the liMh of November, for which Congress prcsealed a sword (o Lieutenant-Colonel SnuUi of the Maryland line, ignorant of the fact that that ollieer had relinquished (lie command of tlie fort on the day before the eommenci'mcnt of \jord Howe's attack. In tlu; following winler, Vanuim was with the commamler-in-chief at Valley Forge, and his letters, quoted by Mr. Sparks,* ju'esent viviil pictures of the sid- ferings of the army during that memoial)le period. In the spring of 177S lie i>ro[)0,sed tin- raising of" a battalion of neirroes in Ivhode Island, and die lei>"islalure passed an act giving " absoliiti' fri'edom to evervskuc who should enter the service anil pass muster." In M.sy he marched under Major-ticneral Charles Lee to the North River, and in Jidy was ordered with his lirigade to join S.dlivan in iiis exix'dition to Ivhode Island, in which he served under tlie immediate orders of iiafayette. lie resigneil his com- mission in 177t), when the luimber oi' general oflicers was greater than was requirei.1 for the army, and was soon after elected major-general of the nulilia of his native state, which office he continued to hold unlil his death. In April, 17S0, General Varnum was elect etl a member of the oKl Congress, in the proceedings of which he took an active })art until the passage of the revenue bill of 1781, when he returned to Uhotle Islaml to enforce in her legislature the sanction and ailoption of that measure, but failed in his ellorts, and was succeedi-d by the dema- gogue David Howell. For several years he devoted • VVriliiigs of VVushiugtoii, v. Ut3, 210. W I I- I. I A M VV () (» I) !• <» R 1). 2S(> himself assiduously and with eminent success fo his pro- fession, and in ITHf) was a second tiinit returned lo Con- gress, where his aelivily, earneslness and eU)(|uence se- cured to liiin much inHuence. When (Jcneral St. Clair was appointed {governor of llu; Norlh-wesl Territory, Ge- neral Vaiuiim was seh'cled to he one of" llie judj^es of its supreme court, and in June, I7HH, he removed lo Marietta, to enter upon the duties of his new odiee. His heallfi had heen for several years decliuiuf^, and on the 17th of January, 17Hf), he died. The career of (general Varuuni was hriel and hrilliant. He was but Ihirly-one years ol' a^^e when he retired from the army, and hul forty at liis death. Hi.' was re])uted to be a f^ood ofllcer, l)ul h;id lillle o))|)ortunity to aecpiire military distinction. Mis (l.ren.sic abihlies however were of a hi^h order, and the fulness of his knowledj^e, his (juick apprehension, and the ^vwtw and power of his ora- tory, inspired the brightest hopes of his civic career. liRKiADlKlMiKNKRAI. VVIi.MAM WOODFORD. Wiij.iAM WooDiouu was 1)0111 in (Jaioline county, Vir- ginia, in i7."M. He dislini^uished himself in the f'rench and Indian war, and when the Virginia convention, on the I7lh of Jidy, 177r), pas,s<'d an ordinance for raising two icginienis to act in defeiu:e of iIk; <;olony, Patrick Henry was appointed coloncd of tin; first, and he ()f the se(;ond. In the military operations which ll)lIowed, in the vicinity of Williamsburg, In* displayed ability and courage, particidarly in the battle of (jreat Mridge, fought on the iJth of Decendjer, Ujxni which occasion he had the Vol. I. 25 T 290 WILLIAM WOODFOKD. chief command, and gained a decided victory. He had resigned a colonel's commission in the continental ser- vice, and when, therefore, upon the recommendation of the cornmander-in-chief, he was appointed a brigadier- general, on the 21st of February, 1777, and was named after Muhlenburg and Weedon of the same state, he would have refused the office, but for the persuasion of Washington. "You may feel hurt," wrote his friend, " at having two officers placed before you, though per- haps never to command you, who were inferior in point of rank to you ; but remember that this is a consequence of your own act, and consider what a stake we are con- tending for. Trifling punctilios should have no influence upon a man's conduct in such a cause and at such a time as this. If smaller matters do not yield to greater — if tri- fles, light as air in comparison with what we are contend- ing for, can withdraw or withhold gentlemen from service, when our all is at stake, and a single cast of the die may turn the tables, what are we to expect ?" He accepted the commission, and assumed the command of the Vir- ginia regiment. In the battle of Brandywine he was wounded in the hand, so as to be compelled for a few days to leave the camp. He was in the battle of Mon- mouth, and in December, 1779, was ordered to the south He was among the prisoners taken by the British ai Charleston on the 12th of May, 1780, and being taken m New York in that summer, died there, on the 13th of No vember, in the thirty-sixth year of his age. .^- ^[EW^®¥W® [KI»W0a.[LflA5^© ti^'^ >-^^ BRIGADIKR-GENERAL OHIO H. WILLIAMS. Otho Holland Williams was a native of Prince rUeorge's, Maryland, and was born in 1748. He entered the revolutionary army, in 1775, as lieutenant of a rifle company, being then twenty-seven years of age. His first distinguished service was at the attack on Fftrt Washington, near Boston, when he held the rank of major. Having twice repulsed the Hessians, who at- tempted to dislodge him from his post, at their third onset he was wounded and taken prisoner. Some time elapsed before he was exchanged, during which he was made colonel. Subsequently he acted as adjutant-general of the northern army, in which capacity he was present at the battle of Camden. After that disastrous defeat the remnant of the forces were organized into a single regi- ment, of which Williams took command, and though in the extremest destitution, the officers succeeded in ren- dering it a well-disciplined and, as was afterwards proved, an efficient body. When General Greene assumed the command of the southern department Williams once more was made adjutant- general, and on every occasion gained great honour. The successful retreat of the army through North Carolina was in a great measure due to the skill and gallantry with which he covered the movement with the rear guard. Williams is, however, best known for his charge at the battle of Eutaw Springs, where he decided the fortune of the day. At the very crisis of the fight, he brought up his command to sweep the field with their bayonets. Military annals record no more brilliant achievement. Steadil) under a shower of fire, that devoted band moved over th»* bloody battle-ground. They were irresistible ; before •iJM 292 STEPHEN MOYLAN. them death threatened their approach, and behind them were only the stern marks of their passage. Tliey gained the victory, but their tliinned ranks and the fallen bodies of their comrades strewing the field told how dearly. Towards the close of the war Williams was made a brigadier-general. Soon afterwards he received the ap- pointment of collector of customs for the slate of Maryland. This lucrative office he subsequently received under the federal government, and held it until his death, which took place on the iCth of July, 1794, at the age of forty- six years. This early decease was caused by his sufTer- iiigs while a prisoner in the hands of the British, and his exposure while at the south. BRIGADIER-GENERAL STEPHEN MOYLAN. Stephkn Moylan was a native of Ireland, and was lesiding in Pennsylvania at the beginning of the Revolu- tion. He was among the first to hasten to the camp at Cambridge, and being a man of education and gentle- manly addrt'ss, he was selected by Washington on the 5th of Murch, 177(i, to be one of his aides-de-camp, and on the 5th of the following June, at his recommendation, was appointed commissary-general. The want of exact business habits rendered him unfit for the commissary de- partment, and he soon resigned this place to enter the line of the army, as a volunteer. In the beginning of 1777 he commanded a regiment of dragoons ; on ihe4th of October in the same year he was at Germantown ; in the winter following he was at Valley Forge ; in 1779 he was on the Hudson and in Connecticut ; on the 20th of July, 1780, accompanied Wayne on the expedition to Bull's Ferry; and in 1781 was sent with the Pennsylvania troops to join Geneial Greene, in the south. He was made brigaaier- general, by brevet, on the 3d of November, 1783. MAJOR-GENEllAL ALEXANDER McDOUGALL. There are few names in our annals upon which we linger with more satisfaefion than ujion that of the gallant and true-hearted Alexander McDougall. "//is zeal is unquestionable," wrote Washington to Schuyler, as early (IS the middle of August, 1775, when he turned almost disheartened from contemplating the sordid aims and petty rivalries that were exhibik'd in the camp ; <' I wish every ofTiccr in the army could apjx-al to his own heart," he wrote to McDougall in May, 1777, "and find the same principles of conduct that I am persuaded actuate you : we should then exjierience more consistency, zeal, and steadi- ness, than we do now, in but too many instances ;" and many years afterwards the same sagacious judge of human character, in a letter to Thomas Jefferson, la- mented the " brave soldier and disinterested patriot" as one of the fallen pillars of the revolution. The father of Alexander McDougall was a farmer, in moderate circumstances, who at an early age had emi- grated from Scotland and settled in the vicinity of New York, in which city the youth of the soldier was passed in various active employments. Here he watched with keen- Kighted vigilance the aggressive steps of the royal govern- ment ; and when the Assembly faltered in its opposition ,0 the usurpations of the crown, and in the winter of 1769, insulted the people by rejecting a proposition authorizing the vote by ballot, and by entering upon the favourable consideration of a bill of supplies for troo})s quartered in the city to overawe the inhabitants, he issued an address, under the title of <t January, 1778. BRICADIKil-GKNKIUL JAMF.S MOORE. In (lu; t)e<:;innin(), CJeneral Patterson headed a detach- ment of the Berkshire militia ordered out for its suj[)j)res- sion. The evening of his life was passed in tranquillity^ upon his farm. BRIGAUll'lll-GKNl^niAL JAMKS RKED. If we look into the history of New Hampshire, we shall find that the people of that state had very little cause, aside from (licir love of lihcrly and a natural syin pathy with the other colonies, lor engaginj:^ in the Revolu- tion. The rule of Wentworth, the last of the royal governors in that province, had l>eVar — Collector ol' Boston — Death, ujid Character. BRIGADIER-GENERAL RICHARD IMONTGOMERY.... 183 ICarly Lil'e ol" Monlgoniery — At the Sioiie ol" Loui-'ibnrg — Marriage- Appointed a Brigadier-General — Kxpedition to Canada — Dilhculties— Arnold — The I'liuus of Ahraluun — The Coiitlict — Death. BRIGADIER-GENERAL JOHN WIIITCOMB 187 Distinguislied in the "Old French War" — Appointed Brigadier-Geueral. BRIGADIER-GENERAL JOHN CADWALADER 188 Appointed a Colonel — Condition of Alfairs at the Close of ITTli — Buttles of Trenton and Princeton — Appointed Brigadier-Geiieral in the Line- Assists in organizing the .Militiaof Maryland — Appointed Coniniander of Cavalry — Services at Brandywine and Gerinantown — Correspond- ence with Washington — Uesidence in Maryland — Death. MAJOR-GENERAL WILLIAM HEATH 194 Karly I'ondness Tor military Alfairs — Colonel of the Siiifolk Regiment — Appointed Brigadier-Cieneral — Major-Geiieral — Summoiis ol l-'orl la- dependence-^At Yorktown — His Civil Life — Memoirs. MAJOR-GENERAL JOHN THOMAS 199 Early F.dueulion — Services in the French War — A Brigadier-General — Diliiculty respecting Rank— Buiikor Hill — Dorchester Heights — Made a Major-General — Sent to Canada — Death — Character. BRIGADIER-GENERAL GEORGE CLINTON 203 George Clinton in the War of lTo9-'lit) — .\ppointed Brigadier-General — Anecdote of his Kscape from Fort Montgomery — Chosen Governor- Political InlUience — Vice-rresident — Character. * BRIGADIER-GENERAL JAMES CLINTON 212 Education — Early military Experience — Marriage — Appointed Briga- dier-Cieneral — At Yorktown — Death. BRIGADIER-GENERAL EBENEZER LARNED 218 Commands one of the Massachusetts Regiments — Appointed I3rig;adier- General — Retires from the Army on Account of Illness. ' MAJOR-GENERAL MARQUIS DE LAFAYETTE 213 Lafayette's Family — Marriage — Infcrest in American AiTairs — His Ar- rival in I'hiladelphia — Appointed Major-General — Interview with Washinglon — at Brandywint^ — Returns to France — Reception by the People and the Court — Again in America — Commands in Virginia — Major-General in the French Army — Commamls the National Guard — Compelled to leave Paris — ^Taken by the Austrions — Imprisonment at Magileburgand Olmuiz — Madame Lafayette — Washington's Attempt to Procure his Release — Liberated by Napoleon — Returns to Franco- Last Visit to America— Revolution of 1S30 — Death. BRIGADIER-GENERAL DEDORRE 930 CONTENTS. T rxan BRIGADIER-GENERAL COUNT PULASKI 2M I'oland — Hi8 Ilirlli, and I'atriotic Services — Recoinmenuud liy Franklin aiul Washington — Appointed a Brigadier-General — lliH Position at 'J'renlon — " l^ulaski's Legion" — Siege of Savannah — Wouniled — Dies. BRIGADIER-GENERAL WILLIAM RUSSELL 242 His Appointment — Services unimportant. MAJOR-GENERAL DUCOUDRAY 243 Arrives in Philiidelphia — Inspector-Cieneral of Ordnance — Drowned. BRIGADIER-GENERAL DE LA NEUVILLE 245 Arrival iji America — Under General Gates — Unpopular — Retires. BRIGADIER-GENERAL BARON STEUBEN 247 Aid-de-Camp to Frederick the Great — Arrives in America — Major- General — I'repares a military Manual — At Valley Forge — Vorktowii. BRIGADfER-GENERAL BARON DE WOEDTKE 252 A Major in the Army of the King of Prussia — Recommended to Con- gress by Dr. Franklin — Serves under Schuyler — Death. BRIGADIER-GENERAL TIIADDEUS KOSCIUSZKO 253 Leaves Poland for America — Reception by Washington — Serves as F/n- giiieer under Greene — Appointed a Brigadier-General, and returns to Kurope — Revisits America — Returns to France — Death. BRIGADIER-GENERAL ARMAND TUFIN 258 Arrival in America — Appointed Colonel — Washington's Testimony re- specting his Services — At York (own — Brigailier-Gcneral — Death. MAJOR-GENERAL DUPORTAIL 262 Arrival in America — Brigadier-General — Joins the Southern Army — A Prisoner — Applies for Promotion and Leave of Absence. BRIGADIER-GENERAL ROCHE DE FERMOY 265 An Officer in the French Kngineers — J}rigadier-General iu the American Service — In Gates's Division— Retires from the Army. MAJOR-GENERAL THOMAS CONWAY 266 In the French .Service — Arrival in America — Appointed a Brigadier-Ge- neral — Resigns — Appointed Inspector-General — Associates of Con way in the "Cabal" — Duel with Cadwalader — Letter to Washington. MAJOR-GENERAL BARON DE KALB 269 In the French Army — Appointed Major-Gencral by Congress — Death. BRIGADIER-GENERAL CHRISTOPHER GADSDEN.... 272 His Education — A Purser in the British Navy — Expedition against the Cherokees — Colonel of the First Carolina Regiment — Brigadier-Gene- ral — Imprisonment at St. Augustine — Exchanged — Chosen Governor. BRIGADIER-GENERAL JAMES HOGAN 281 A Member of the North Carolina I'rovincial Congress — Military Ser- vices — Appointed a Brigadier-General. BRIGADIER-GENERAL ISAAC HUGER 282 The Huger Family — Education — Early military Experience— Services in Georgia— Fall of Charleston — End of the War— Huger's Death. BRIGADIER-GENERAL MOSES HAZEN 290 Canada — Destruction of Ilazeii's Property — He is appointed Colonel of "Congress's Own" — Services during the War — A Brigadier-General. BRIGADIER-GENERAL JAMES WILKINSON 292 Studies Medicine — Repairs to the Camp at Cambridge — A Captain — Aid to Gates — Lieut. Colonel — Again with Gates — Bearer of Lespatches to Congresi- Military and Civil Services — Dies in Mexico. n CONTENTS. MAJ OK -GENERAL THOMAS SUMTER 29ft Serves iiiulor I.oni Punniore — At Hrndilock's DeTent — Appointed I.ieu- tenaiu-Colonel — Fall of Churlestoii — Kecruilmg — Brigntlier-General in llie Slate Troops — Attacks Rocky Mount — Dcleat ol'Gnlcs — Surprised by Tarlelon — Defeats Weniyss — Atiair ol" Ninety-Six — Thanked by Congress — Dirticulty wiih Lee — Retires I'roin tlie Army — His Death. BRIGADIER-GENERAL CHARLES SCOTT 319 Colonel — Appointed a Brigadier-General — Taken Prisoner. MAJOR-GENERAL CHARLES C. PINCKNEY 313 A Captain under Gailsden — Aid-de-Cainp to Washington — In Howe'» Kxpedition against Florida — Assault on Savannah — Commands Fort Moultrie — .Appointed a Brigadier-General — iMinister to France — Ma- jor-General in the Provincial Aruiy — Pursuits of his old Age. MAJOR-GENERAL ROBERT HOWE 32J In the North Carolina Committee of Safety — Mardies into Virginia — Coniniaiuls at Norfolk — .Appointed Brigadier-General — Ivvpedition to Kasl Florida — Retreat — Fall of Savannah — Conmuinds at West Point. BRIGADIER-GENERAL JOSEPH FRYE 324 Karly military Career — .\t I-ouisliurg — Fort William Henry — Escape from the Indians — Appointed Brigadier-General — Resigns. MAJOR-GENERAL ARTEMAS WARD 325 First IVIajor-General appointed by Congress — Connnands in Boston — Re- tires iVom the Army — Judicial Services — Death. BRIGADIER-GENERAL RUFUS PUTNAM 326 Goes to Florida — Made a Brigadier-General — Counnands the Army against the Indians on the Wabash — Surveyor-tieneral. BRIGADIER-GENERAL FRANCIS NASH 328 In the North Carolina Militia — Appointed a Brigadier-General — lulled in the Battle of Germaiitovi-n. MAJOR-GENERAL ADAI\I STEPHEN 329 Serves under Washington in the Indian Wars — Hrigadier-fJeneral in the Continental Army — .Major-General — Battle of Brandy wine. BRIGADIER-GENERAL ELIAS DAYTON 330 A Colonel — Sent against Sir John Johnson — At Tieonderoga — Services in New Jersey — Appointed Brigadier-General. BRIGADIER-GENERAL EDWARD HAND 331 Joins the revolutionary Aru;y — Colonel — Services in the early Part of the War — Brigadier-General — Adjutant-General — Death. BRIGADIER-GENERAL PETER MUHLENBURG 333 Born in Pennsylvania — Minister oi a Lutheran Clmrch in Virginia — I\lade a Brigadier-(>eneral — Services in the War. BRIGADIER-GENERAL ANDREW LEWIS 333 His Services in the Indian Wars— .Miair with Major (Jrant— Commands the Virginia Troops— Brigadier-General — Resignation— Death. BRIGADIER-GENERAL JEDEDIAH HUNTINGTON.... 339 Educated at Harvard— Joins the Army— In the Affair at RidgeSeld — Brigadier-General — At Vaiiey Forge — His Civil Services. BRIGADIER-GENERAL WILLIAM MAXWELL 265 Colonel of a New Arsey Regiment — In the Canada Campaign — Brig;a- Uio'-Gencral — At Brandywine and Germantown — Resignation. WASHINGTON AND THE GENERALS OF THE REYOLUTION BRIGADIER-GENEKAL JOHN STARK. It has been too much the cant of historians to s-peak of John Siark as a " peculiar man," — an "eccentric man ;" for ourselves, we neither understand nor like this easy way of escape from the analysis of a fine character. That he was nol an imbecile, inefficient, nor ordinary personage, is sufficiently evident from the position he gained, and the -variety of hazards which marked his career. On the other hand, he was a man of strong and unquestioned in- dividuality of character, having points of excellence in a high degree which ought to form the basis of every mind, so that the matter finally resolves itself simply into this, — John Stark was a fuller man than his neighbours, and hence they instinctively chose him their leader, and loved and honoured him, as few have ever been loved and honoured in his sphere of life. That John Stark might seem peculiar in a fashionable 7 8 JOHN STARK. drawing-room we do not deny ; but such a man need no', be squared by laws so frivolous as prevail there, — nor by any laws except those concurrent with the usages of the people amid whom he was reared. He did not seen: peculiar to the accomplished Lord Howe,* who was some- thing better than a nobleman in the ordinary use of the term, when they often joined the hunt together, and when, the evening before the disastrous defeat of Ticonderoga, he sat side by side with the British peer in friendly chat, and Stark drank with him the last cup of tea he was ever destined to drink. Nor was he regarded as peculiar by the hardy band of Rangers who so often exulted in their leader; to them, he was a man of sterling integrity, of rare courage, directness and energy, and of a patriotism neither to be gainsaid nor questioned. That Stark never did reach the station to which his personal qualities and military abilities might justly have entitled him, was owing to no peculiarities of his own, but to that want of expanded judgment and clear discrimina- tion of character, so deplorably apparent in the members of Congress at that time in regard to all military affairs. Much of the evil arising from this source was obviated by the personal influence of Washington ; but the injustice by which the magnanimous Schuyler suffered, and which finally drove the unprincipled Arnold to infamy and trea- son, is now too much a matter of history to admit of de- nial. That nice sense of honour so essential to the dignity of the military man, was hardly a recognisable sentiment to men newly brought from their farms, counting-rooms, and professional closets, to the duties of legislation ; these • Mrs. Grant, in her admirable work — " Memoirs of an American Lady" — adverts graphically and most touchingly to the circumstances of this disastrous period. The revered Madame Schuyler had conceived a maternal attachment for this young nobleman, and her grief at the report of his death was most affecting in one of such remarkable equanimity. It was of this Lord Howe that Lee said, " Had he lived I should have re- gretted to find myself in the ranks of his opponents." REFLECTIONS ON THE TIMES. 9 duties likewise lo be discharged amid the embarrassments of national poverty and the horrors of war. That such men should make many and grievous mis- ia.ces, which we, at this distant day, can clearly discern, IS less surprising than that historians should deny justice to those who failed to receive it at their hands; their errors may be abundantly palliated by the stress of the times, but we can only account for the pertinacity of those who can see no blindness in the Congress of the day, ex- cept by supposing they are bent upon holding up this body as a modern Areopagus, whose decisions are beyond dispute. As a people we had been too long dependent to walk alone, with a free step ; our government had been subordi- nate, — our military subordinate, — and, to this day, we are hardly exempt from the subordination of intellect thus engendered ; in the church only had we been left to the free action of our own resources, and, natural enough, the mind busied itself largely with the subjects of the divine. In this state of things it is not surprising, however much we may deplore the fact, that mistakes should arise from this as well as other causes. But when we remember that through such a contest, amid the hardships of poverty, which, of itself, is so apt to tempt astray, — to weaken the energies, and damp the courage of men ; when we reflect that through a period so disheartening and protracted, where brother was often armed against brother, parent against child, and friend opposed to friend, that but one solitary instance of treason occurred, — that but one man was found base enough to barter his honour and his country for gold, it speaks volumes in behalf of the virtue and devotion which marked the character of the people. In view of these things we should exclaim, with the gratitude of those who from this small beginning have become great .n the earth, — " Surely it is of God, and he hath gottep us the victory.'- 10 J H N S T A R K. We draw no picture of the fancy, but a stern reality that might be proved in a thousand instances ; — men, who had served side by side in the " old French war," as it is now familiarly called, found themselves foe to, foe in the war of the Revolution. It was so in the Stark family, where the truth of that assertion, — " a man's foes shall be they of his own household," was most painfully verified. William Stark, the elder brother of John, had fought at Ticonderoga and Crown Point, and encountered the battle on the Plains of Abraham, by the side of the gallant Wolf; but, in all these cases, the path of duty was not easily mistaken. Years rolled on, and the battles of Lexington and Concord cast the affairs of the country into a new shape, and this was indeed the time that tried men's souls. Now the question must be decided, every man to him- self — king or country ! Men wavered — the stoutest hearts fell at the fearfulness of the crisis — but it was but for a moment, and the foot was planted in the very s'pirit of the thrilling words of Scott, " My foot is on my native heath, and my name is Macgregor." Scarcely had the smoke cleared from the battle field of Lexington, and the pulse of the determined few been stilled for ever, ere Stark and Put- nam, and others of kindred spirit, had left literally the plough in the unturned furrow, and were on the road to lend their strength for freedom and the right. No more hesitation existed now — the lines were drawn, and they must abide the issue. William Stark is now a colonel in the British army, and John in that of the American- brother against brother. At the battle of Bunker Hill the services of John Stark were felt and acknowledged even by our enemies. Just before the opening of the conflict, some one asked Gene- ral Gage whether he thought cne provincials would hazard the assault of the royal troops. "Yes," was the reply, «* if one John Stark is amongst them — he served un Jer lae at Lake George, and was a brave fellow." BIRTHOFSTARK. 11 It. wa3 at this battle that an incident occurred which places his invincible character in a strong light. Let it be remembered, that this is the man who afterwards incited his men to enthusiasm, at the battle of Bennington, with the simple appeal — "We must conquer, my boys, or Molly Stark's a widow" — a speech which, while it betrayed the tenderness of feeling tugging at his own heart, touched a chord in every other.* In the heat of action at Bunker Hill, a soldier reported to Stark, that his son, a youth of sixteen, had perished on the field. " Is this a time for private grip/, with the foe in our face?" was the stern re- buke of the ftither, as he ordered the man back to his duty. • We yield the point at length — S;ark was peculiar — he had the hardihood and patriotism of a Roman general. Thank God! the report was false, and we trust the youth lived long to fighr the battles of his country, and to do honour to the gray hairs of such a father. But we must resume more the order of time. The family of Stark was of Scotch origin, being descended from the iron followers of John Knox, who thus found the doc- trines of the New England settlers congenial with their own. He was born in Londonderry, New Hampshire, on the 28th of August, 1728. His fa;her was a sturdy la- bourer, and John, till nearly twenty-five, continued to lend his aid to the support of the family, at which time nis career opens to the public. Hitherto he had laboured in hunting, tra[)ping, and subduing the soil — avocations often severe and hazardous in a new country, but which serve to impart a wonderful degree of physical power and mental resource. Now in connection wilh his brother William, and two others by the name of Eastman and • The writer, when a child, heard an old veteran describe, in glowing terms, the battle of Bennington, and dilate upon the bravery of Stark with all the fervour of one who knew " how fields were won." He gave the above as the exact vvords of this pithy address. There is something peculiarly endearing in this frank, homely use of Molly, instead of Marv. at such a time. 12 JOHN STARK. Stir.son,he started upon a hunting excursion to the north- western part of the state, at that time an entire wildernes.;, infested with wild beasts, and known to be the resort of great numbers of Inrlians by no means friendly. These conditions were far from deterring the daring youlh of the frontier, who loved peril and adventure too well to be daunted at the cry of " Indian" or " bear," as the case might be. They pursued their sport with great ani- mation till they lighted upon an "Indian trail," which cer- tainly ought to have admonished caution. Two days after, John, being a little in advance of his party, for the pur- pose of collecting traps, was seized upon by the Indians, who demanded the direction taken by his companions. Stark pointed the opposite way in the hope they might escape, but they, becoming alarmed at his absence, fired guns as signals for him to follow them, and thus betrayed their position. When overtaken, William Stark and Stinson were already in the boat, (this was upon Baker's river,) and Eastman standing upon the shore. John screamed to them to pull to the opposite shore — to let him and East- man go — and escape for their lives. The enraged savages raised their guns to fire, and the intrepid man knocked them into the air. Another party attempted the same thing, and he sprang forward in time to save his brother, but poor Stinson was mortally wounded. William was obliged to make the best of his way homeward, leaving Eastman and the younger Stark in the hands of the savages, who did not fail to beat the latter most unmercifully, for his interference with the range of their bullets. The Indians now took their way to St. Francis's, whither they had already conveyed Eastman ; the mettle of Stark beinrr so much to their mind, he had been detained on the route to finish his hunting enterprise under his new niasters, and his skill being found so very considerable, he was al- lowed the rights of proper*;y in the game thus secured. A.riived at St. Francis's, he and his companion were sub- ORDEAL OF THE GAUNTLET. 13 jected to the ordeal of ihe gauntlet — a Spartan-like cere- mony, held in high estimation amongst these people, and which, indeed, is a part of savage education. It is thus that the youih of the tribe, by seeing the indignities to which the chances of war subject the captive, learn that fierce and deadly courage, which made death preferable to defeat or dishonour, and which rendered them so terrible upon the battle-field. It was a piocess by which the youth were trained up to fdl the positions now occupied by the old and tested warriors of their people, who, sitting by widi all the dignity and composure of men who have been long tried and approved, marked with smiles the skill and dexterity of their sons, as they eagerly watched the moment at which they might, each in turn, inflict his blow upon the flying victim. The ordeal must have been severe to the most athletic, and poor Eastman was half killed by the action. Not so John Stark ; he was lithe as a sapling, strong and fear- less. He knew the nature of those about him ; and had it not been so, his own audacity afforded lesson enough. He sprang like a wild animal which had been confined, and suddenly loosed. With the speed of the antelope, he dashed down the line of eager and well-armed youth, — ■ seized at the onset a club from the hand of the first in the rank, and thus leaping into the air, and striking right and left, he cleared his assailants, leaving them scattered and abashed. Like the classical heroes of old, his generous foes were loud in their approval. The old men wer^^ de- lighted at the severe lesson thus taught their youth ; and they, in turn, learned to treat with deference a man who confronted peril with so high a spirit. Nor was this all ; he was get to hoe corn, and he carefully left the weeds in clumps, and cut every spear of grain ; this they thought unskilful enough, and, being better instructed, he waa ■igain put to the task. This time Stark tossed his hoc into Vol. II. 2 14 J O M N S T A R K. the river, declaring it was "work for squaws, not war- riors." This conduct completed the enthusiasm of his ca|>tors, ar)d they at once called a council, in which he was formally invested with the dignity of chief, and shared in the honours and successes of the tribe. Stark remained many months with these simple and appreciating people, and never failed to recur with plea- sure to the subject in after life, declaring that he received from these Indians more genuine /dndness than he ever knew prisoners of war to receive from any civilized nation. The eventful life of Stark certainly afforded him ample opportunities for judging, he having served through the seven years' war, as well as that of the Revolution, making about fifteen years passed mostly in the camp. At a subse- quent period, the war with the French and Indians rendered it necessary to destroy the St. Francis tribe of Indians, whose atrocities were augmented by the presence of their witty and mercurial confederates. Stark had been sent upon an expedition farther east, at which he was greatly rejoiced, as it spared him the painful task of inflicting evil upon a people at whose hands he had received kindness. He was at length ransomed by the Commissioners of Massachusetts, the General Court of that state having a " fund for the release of captives," — a painful comment upon the times. As New Hampshire never refunded this money, Stark did so himself, raising the required sum by his own labour. The Indians demanded for Stark, " the young chief," whom they had adopted, and whose Indian cognomen is now probably lost, a hundred and three del lars, out Eastman they relinquished for sixty. Stark was by no means satisfied with llie result of liis hunting excursion, and tlie next year he started upon a similar enterprise. In this way, partly as a hunter, and partly as agent of the New Hampshire government, he travelled over a greater portion of the wild region oi Ver- COLONIAL DELEGATION AT ALBANY. 15 mont and New Hampshire, and was the first to explore \he. fine meadows of the Connecticut, where Haverhill ana Newbury now stand. At length the encroachments of the French, upon the North American continent, awoke the attention of the British government. Perceiving the whole western coast to be occupied by the English, it became the policy of the French to prevent their extension west. For this pur- pose, by means the most adroit, and carried on with the greatest possible secrecy, their agc^nts, with admirable skill, and the most untiring energy, had explored the whole of that vast region included in the valleys of the Mississippi, the Ohio, and the St. Lawrence. In this Work they had been greatly aided by the Cadiolic mis- sionaries, who had long laboured in these regions, and engaged warmly the afl'ections of the natives. It was now evident to the dullest eye, that the French, backed by a whole wilderness of savages, were determined upon a great western empire, which was to be secured and de- fended by the establishment of fortifications upon suitable points throughout this vast water communication, through the St. Lawrence, the great lakes, the Ohio and Missis- sippi rivers, to the Gulf of Mexico. The most strenuous efforts were necessary to defeat a project so destructive to the interests of the British govern- ment. Companies were formed, and a convention of re- presentatives from each of the colonies was called to meet at Albany, and adopt the measures requisite on the occa- sion. This was in 1754, and it is a curious fact, that the first compact of union by the several colonies, was made at this time, and signed at Albany, in the state of New York, the fourth of July, and from this circumstance, should the day be twice memorable to our peop.e. Thus the two powers were fairly in the field, France and England, and we, as subjects of the British crovvn, ^vere doinjr our utmost to relieve ourselves from the sai 15 JOHN STARK. gulnary atrocities of savage warfare, and from the encroach ments of a people who should hereafter become our allies m the great struggle for our independence. An expedi- tion was planned against Fort Du Quesne, to be intrusted to General Braddock. whose defeat and death have made this unfortunate enterprise so interesting in our annals, and where the skill of Washington first became conspicuous; a second was to attack Fort Niagara; and a third detach- ment, consisting of New England troops alone, was to in- vest Crown Point. A corps of rangers, under Robert Rogers, was enlisted in New Hampshire, and Stark, well known for his efliciency in all hazardous service, received his first commission under this otficer. In the mean while a large body of French and Indian troops were known to be in the field, ready to invest Fort Edward. It was ascertained that the enemy were stationed about four miles to the north of the fort, and the Anglo-Americans deter- mined to meet them there. It had been the design of the French commander to surprise and surround our army, and this might have been accomjilished but for the acute in- stincts of our Mohawk allies ; Hendricks, their chief, having perceived the approaches of the Canadian Indians, and brought on the engagement. The enemy so far out- numbered our people, that a retre;it became urgent, after a severely contested battle, in which the French commander fell, and on our own side, Colonel Williams, a brave otfi- cer, who headed the deiachment, together with the gallant Hendricks, chief of the Mohawks, The retreating troops were met by a reinforcement, and now awaited the army on the border of the lake. A breast- work of trees was hastily thrown up, and several cannon irom Fort Edward mounted, ready to greet the approach- ing foe. The enemy appeared confident of victory, un- conscious of the aid thus received. The first opening of the artillery tolil a story they were little prepared to re- ceive — the Indians have the greatest horror of diis species THE FRENCH DEFEATED. 17" ot' defence, and they fled to the swamp, leaving .he brunt of the battle to the French, who were soon routed, and obhged to take their turn in retreat, followed by our triumphant Rangers, who halted at length upon the spot where the battle had been fought in the inornhig. In the mean while, a detachment from our army at Fort Edward met the flying foe, and drove them back upon our people. The victory was complete — tltree battles having been fought in one day. Baron Dieskau, the commander of the French forces, was wounded and taken prisoner in the se- cond engagement. Near the place of contest was a small pond, into which the dead, both friend and foe, were cast, mingling their ashes together, which has since been called the Bloody Pond. For a period of nearly two years, little was done in the way of decided action, although detachments of the army were constantly on the alert to harass and disturb the enemy, and prevent farther encroachments. Stark was active in scouting parties, in reconnoitring, and exploring, and all things were in readiness for more decisive action, when the need for such should occur. In the middle of January, 1757, we find our company of Rangers^ consisting of seventy-four men, iricJuding officers, marching with incredible labour towards Lake Champlain — breasting the cold and ice of the lake, and making their way by means of snow-shoes. Arrived at length midway between Crown Point and Ticonderoga, they per- ceived sleds laden with provisions, &c., passing down from the former to the latter fort. After attempting an unsuc- cessful surprise, they succeeded in the capture of seven prisoners, three sleds, and six horses, the rest having ef- fected their escape. The day was intensely cold, and the rain and sleet nearly blinded the eyes of the hardy little band. From the information gained through the prisoners, they had no doubt that the enemy would immediately be out in the 18 JOHNSTARK pursuit; accordingly, they fell back upon the camp, where fires were still burning, in order to dry their guns and be in readiness for action. Tliey marched in the style of rangers, single file, and had proceeded about a mile, when, having mounted a hill, they encountered the enemy drawn up to receive them, who instantly gave a discharge; they not being over five yards from the van, and no more than thirty from the rear of our party, while the foe were two hundred strong. Rogers was wounded at the first fire, and Lieutenant Kennedy killed — a general action ensued, with doubtful success on either side — each endea- vouring to oul-mancDUvre his enemy — a retreat was hinted — Stark declared he would shoot the first man who (led — they should fight while an enemy could be seen, and then if they must retreat, they would do so under cover of the night, which was their only security. Major Rogers was now wounded a second time, and Stark was almost the only odicer unharmed; a shot broke the lock of his gun, and he sprang forward, seized one from the hand of a wounded Frenchman, still cheering his men to action. The wound of the commander bled profusely — a soldier was or- dered to sever the cue from the head of Rogers and thus " plug up the hole through his wrist," and with this new mode of surgery he was able to survive the fight. The battle commenced at two, and was continued till the night rendered farther conflict impossible, and the exhausted troops ceased to combat. The snow was four feet upon a level — the cold se- vere — yet the little body of Rangers, wasted and disabled, were obliged to pass the night under the fatigues of a re- treat ; their wounded were stiif and bleeding, and the didiculties of the march increased momentarily. The wounded were unable to advance farther on foot, and they were forty miles from Fort William Henry, where only relief could be obtained. Nothing daunted, John Stark and two others started upon snow-sho»js to ♦ravel STARK PUOMOTED TO A CAPTAINCY. 19 this long distance, in order to bring relief to their dying and disabled companions. He reached ihe fort, a distance of forty miles, by evening of the next day, and the nnorning light saw them, with aid and comfort, ready to resume their retreat. No man, without the iron frame of Stark, could possibly have achieved this ; and no one, with a heart less warm and energetic, would have been prompied to travel eighty miles, one half of it on foot, after having sustained a battle of many hours ; and all this without the intervention ot sleep. He was promoted to the rank of captain, on this occasion. Fort William Henry .subsequently capitulated to the French, and the melancholy prisoners of war met the fate which Stark anticipated for his gallant Ranrers, had they been forced, by an ill-timed retreat, to surrender. They were all dragged out, and tomahawked by the Indian allies of the French. Stark was actively efficient in the expedition aj^ainst Ticoiideroga, and shared the perils of that most disastrous enterprise, in which perished Lord Howe — brother to him who subsequently headed the British army in the war of the Revolution. Stark was warmly attached to this nobleman, who had often joined his band of Rangers, to learn their mode of warfare, and witness their skill and readiness of action. At the defeat of Ticonderoga, in which five hundred regulars were killed, and twelve hundred wounded, and of the colonial corps one hundred killed, and two hundred and fifty wounded, the British still twice outnumbered the French ; notwithstanding this, a hasty retreat was or- dered — but Lord Howe had been killed at the first onset of battle, and the Rangers of Rogers and Stark had covered themselves with glory, had been first and last at the post of danger, and now they must turn upon their steps, and leave their friends unavenged. To whatever cause these disasters may be imputed, whether, as Stark btlieved, to 20 JOHNSTARK. the reaciion caused by the death of Howe, or to the ineffi- ciency of the British ofTicers, it is difficult, at this late day, to determine ; but the army could only see the disgrace, without the ab.lity to apply the remedy. After this, the brunt or the service fell upon the New Hampshire Rangers, in which various battles were fought, scarcely noted in history, and only important as keeping the enemy at bay. In one of these Israel Putnam, of in- trepid memory, was engaged ; and being taken prisoner, he was tied to a tree, within range of the shots of both parties. As his Indian captors passed and repassed the tree of their victim, th^ would amuse themselves by slinging their tomahawks into the bark above his head — a test of dexterity which even the stout Putnam might have been willing to decline. The enemy were at length routed, but succeeded in bearing him into captivity. The sufferings and adventures of this brave man are now the theme of every schoolboy's winter evening tale, and this is not the place for their relation. The following year a more successful enterprise reduced Ticonderoga and Crown Point to the Anglo-American arms. In this expedition Stark, as usual, displayed the hardihood of his northern Rangers with all the pride of a soldier. Had these successes been followed up with the required promptitude, the noble Wolf might have been spared the disasters of Quebec; but General Amherst went into winter quarters early in autumn, leaving that officer without the co-operation he had been led to expect for the reduction of Canada. The final peace concluded between the two countries closed this hazardous and bloody species of warfare, in which, however conducted, while allies are made of the original occupants of the soil, atrocities too terrible for detail must ensue. The frontier settlement, the defence- less pioneer, and the insufficient garrison, are each and all exposed to the most shocking cruelties, and cold- PEACEOF TWELVE YEARSi 2l olooded outrage. The historian and the poet have each celebrated the destruction of Wyoming, the burning of Schenectady, and the fate of Jane M'Crea; but these re- cords, while they cast a veil of interest over the scenes they delineate, can in nowise soften their more than tragic terrors. A peace of twelve years ensued during which the colonies had time to recover from the protracted and ex- hausting warfare in which they had been engaged. Major Rogers disbanded his corps of Rangers, in which Captain Stark had served through the "seven years' war," and now entered permanently into the British service — where the war of the Revolution found him opposed to his old brother in arms. Melancholy as are the details of the French and Indian war, it nevertheless developed largely the resources of our own people ; and by rendering them familiar with war, and the best modes of conducting it in a new and wide- spread territory — by making them at home in the camp, and in military usages, drew their attention from the pettiness of sectarian and civilian life, and from the mean- ness of trade, conducted, as it then was, not as a broad system of commerce, but as a species of subordinate barter, developed or hindered by the caprice or policy of the higher power across the water. These things would have naturally served to narrow down the views of men, and, by confining them to the usages of a people condemned to the thousand toilful expedients of a new country, would have tended greatly to throw back the progress of enlight- ened civilization ; but the intervention of a war brought them into intimate contact not only with the exasperated original owners of the soil, which must have called forth all their sagacity and all their hardihood, but likewise into companionship with the first representatives of the two most enlightened and polished nations on the globe. The subsequent twelve years of peace gave them time 22 JOHN STARK. to rally fiom the sufferings of warfiire — gave them leisure to culiivale ihe carlli, bocome niiniliar with the needs and the blessings of life — time to rear families and deepen the sentiments of love and attachment to the soil. The stiong men, who were to be the hereafter fathers of the republic, were found, at this period, busy in all the otliees of good citizenship — <» diligent in business" — gathering thought and strength from the experience of the past, and looking to the I'uture, not with idle iliscontent, but with the com- posure of men willing to bide their time, knowing their own strength. We find Stark not inactive ; subsequently, when disappointment anil injusliee comj)elled him to re- tire for awhile from the high and honourable duty of a soldier, he marshalled forth his ybur sojis, and sent them, with a father's and a patriot's " God speed," to fight a good fight for their country. The sword had been beaten into ploughshares, and the spear into pruning-hooks, and we were loth to see too much even when feeling most the evils of the measures of the British government in regard to her colonies. The bless- ings of peace were too sure and immediate to be lightly hazarded, and our people remonstrated, appealed, and for- bore till the iron entered the very soul — till not to resist was to betray the great interests of humanity, to be false to God, to our country, and our children. We have been called an irritable, unmanageable people — we say nothing of what we are now, but prior to the Revolution, we were certainly a good-natured, rather tame people, in our subor- dination. We loved England so well, beholding in her all that was great as a nation, and powerful in intellect, and were proud of our relation to her, and childishly — we had almost said foolishly — were we attached to her insthu- tions. We loved her lavi's when wisely administered, and that we might keep fast hoUl of the liberty therein guaran- tied, we were finally roused to resistance; not to escape her authority, but that we might cling to the 'ights of Bri- N E C K S S I T V OF THE U K V O L U T I O N. 23 tish subjects — good-natured as we were, affectionate and devol(;d as we were in our attachment to England, ours was no blind devotion, no imbecile amiability — ourisf)lated position rendered us clear in our views of legislative jus- tice, and firm in our exactions of right ; when, therefore, the emergencies of the times made it fitting and necessary, not only for us to make a stand against oppression, but also to put forth our strength for a national birth, we were not easily soothed, nor easily terrified into submission. At length the affairs of the country reached their crisis — the 19th of April witnessed the first blood shed, not in re- bellion, but for the defence of human rights upon this cow- tinent — not for glory, nor territory, nor perishable goodj, but for the great and inalienable rights of free-born mei, ; the blood shed, was -not for ourselves alone, not for our children only, but for all the great family of man, who should henceforth learn to hold fast to the principles of human and national justice. It would be well if England could learn from her experience through us, to loose her iron grasp upon unhappy Ireland, before her terrible day of retribution shall come. The battle of Lexington passed like a thrill throughout the country. Every portion of it was ready with its co- operating response, and Stark, within ten minutes of the tidings, had buckled on his sword, and was on the way to the spot where brave hearts and true service were most needed. On his way, he called upon all who loved their country and its free heritage, to meet him at Medford — while he should go on and see what must first be done. Twelve hundred men answered the summons, and from these he organized two regiments ready for action under the provincial authority. Then came the ever memorable seventeenth of June, in which battle, the thoroughly drilled and finely ordered royal army, found itself worsted by men who came to the contest fresh from the recently turned furrow, stained with ^4 J O U N S T A R K. the Just of travel, and the effects of labour — wno h^i] dropped ihe implements of trade, or turnoil aside the learned tome to grasp sword and musket — who slood up before a disciplined and lavishly accoutred soKliery, in the plain garb of citizen and yeomen, with powder-horn in lieu of cartridge-box, and bullet /ia77i7ncred down to the size of the rusty and uncouth musket — men who found no time for elaborate defence, but with sinewy hands wrested the rail fence from its position and planting it by the side of a stone wall, filled the space between with the new hay, which the rake and scythe had but just left, and behind this hasty breastwork, stood up for God and the right. Onward came the foe, in full military order, with banner and spirit-stirring drum, and fife, and many a jest at the expense of those who came forth to the British soklier, a whining, nasal, raw, antl ludicrous throng, who talked in this wise : " Father ami I wont down to camp, Along with Oap'n Gooil'in, Anil tliere we see the men ami boys As Uuck as hasty puddin'. " Onward they came, each with his bold, handsome front, till the sturdy yeomen, bearing his horn of powder, could see " the white in the eye of his foe," and then arose a volley that caused these stout men to stagger backward, and to feel that an uncouth garb, and an uncouth tongue, are only ridiculous when debased by an internal debase- ment — but when armed with the majesty of a noble pur- pose, and swelled by the eloquence of a high sentiment, become more than regal in their calm and sublime energy. Stark with his New Hampshire volunteers, fully sustained the reputation acquired in the seven years' war. He was in the hottest of the battle, and his stout heart forgot, as we have before related, every feeling but the patriot sol- dier, in this great stand for freedom. The brave soldiers of the British moved up company after company, against EFFICIENCY OF STARK. 20 thesfi rude fighters behind the grass fence, only to be shot down the moment presented, till scarcely a half dozen was left in a company to tell the tale of ihose stoui farmers be- hind their embankment of hay. The contest for our rights continued with various suc- cess, and we find Stark always ready at his post, prepared for danger, and efficient in every service of trust or diffi- culty. Sixteen years after his exploits at 'i'iconderoga, in the French war, he is again upon the old battle-field, and hears the declaration of our independence read to his brave soldiers, who listened with shouts of applause. Then follow the disasters of New York — the army is im- poverished, disheartened, and compelled to retreat before a foe flushed with victory, and made brave by all the com- forts and appliances of a well appointed army. 'I'he strongest hearts are well nigh crushed at the difficulties which surround us. Various expedients are devised — Washington, wonderful as he was, for that god-like slate of mind enjoined by Jesus — "in your patience, possess ye your souls," must have often been tempted to despair in that gloomy and most portentous period. Impelled to action he could not as yet risk his naked, barefoot, and hungry men, worn by disease and travel, and shivering wiih cold, before his powerful adversary. Stark writes of this period, " Your men have long been accustomed to place dependence upon spades and pickaxes for safety, but if you ever mean to establish the independence of the United States, you must teach them to rely upon their fire- arms." Washington, nothing irritated at the boldness of his officer, hailed with joy the spirit of daring which it implied, wrote instantly in return — " This is what we have agreed upon. We are to march to-morrow upon Trenton. You are to command the right wing of the ad- vanced guard, and General Greene the left." The success of this most dilficult enterprise is one of Vol. II. 3 26 JOHNSTARK. the proudest triumphs of the American arms, and can onlv be appreciated by a survey of the whole mass ot sufi'ering and disheartenment to which these staunch advocates fo: freedom were subjected at the time. Then followed thi battle of Princeton, and these signal tokens of success in- fused life and hope into the whole country. In the midsi of these better auspices, the army seemed likely to disap pear at the moment of our greatest need. The term ol enlistment of the men had expired, and we cannot wondet that people who had suffered so much should desire a mo- mentary respite from their toil. Temporary enlistments were effected through the personal and sectional influence of the patriots of the day. Hundreds, whose names have never reached us, threw their whole fortunes into the cause. Women denied themselves the elegancies and luxuries of life, to promote the great national cause. Stark stood foremost on this occasion. The enthusiasm of his men for their leader induced the regiment, to a man, to re-enlist for six weeks, till the country should find space to breathe. In the meanwhile he returned to New Hampshire, con- fident of raising his old friends and companions in arms once more to the cause. His success was complete, and the delight of the patriot and the soldier may well be conceived. It was at this moment of triumph, when the veteran of so many battles placed himself in the midst of a willing soldiery, that Stark found himself superseded by his juniors in years and by tyros in the art of war. He repaired to the council, and protested against the insult and injustice. Finding remonstrance of no avail, he threw up his commission, and retired to his farm, where he armed every retainer of size and strength for battle, and sent them forth to the great work ; he girded his four sons, and then turned himself to his bereaved household, and resumed the spade and scythe in lieu of sword and can- non. It was in vain that the chivalrous Schuyler, who HIS REPLY TO SCHUYLER. '117 subsequently suffered from a like injustice, urged hmi to remain in the service ; the reply of Stark is like " apples of gold in pictures of silver." <<^n officer who cannot maintain his own rank, and assert his own rights, cannot be trusted to vindicate those oj" his count ry.^^ He continued to watch the operations of the army, and point out what seemed, in his judgment, essential to its well-being; and always declared his readiness to take the field whenever the country should require his services. The summer of 1777 opened with its full share of dis- heartenment to our people. It seemed next to an impos- sibility to keep an army in the field under the pressure of poverty, and the scantiness of munitions of war. A triumphant and fully supplied enemy was penetrating the heart of the country by the way of Canada, and the de- monstrations of Lord Howe left no doubt of a design to conjoin the two forces by means of the Hudson, and thus totally divide the country into two sections. The want of military enterprise in Burgoyne, which led him to act in detachments, instead of precipitating himself en masse upon our territory, was undoubtedly the secret of our safety. The region of Lake Champlain, so often the field of battle, became once more the theatre of war. Ticon- deroga is again lost, and still the foe advances onward. Vermont is in imminent peril ; — they apply for protection, or declare they must abandon their homes, and seek refuge east of Connecticut river. All is dismay — the northern army is accused of pusilanimity — and a deputation is sent to Exeter, to demand succour from the Assembly. John Langdon is speaker of the house — a merchant of Ports- mouth, and full of devotion to the cause — he rises in his seat — hear him. "I have three thousand dollars in hard money; I will pledge my plate for three thousand more; I have seventy hogsheads of Tobago rum, which shall be sold for the 88 JOHNSTARK. most it wlK brinp;. These are at the service of the state. If we succeed in deteiuling our liresidt-s ami homes, 1 may be remunerated ; if we do not, the property will be of no value to me. Our oKl frieml Stark, who so nobly maintained the honour of our state at Bunker Hill, may safely be entrusted with the conduct of the enterprise, and we will cheek tiie progress of Burgoyne." The pride of Siark half revolteil at this partisan warfare, into wliich the raising of troops by the New Hampshire Assembly would thrust him ; but the urgencies of the country lefi small space lor punctilio, and he accepted the command of the forces thus raised, stipulating otdy that he shoulil act entirely umler the command of New Hampshire, should not be obliged to join the main arniy, but be al- lowed the defence of the New Hampshire Grants, as Ver- mont was then called. His stipulations were fully ac- ceiled to, and John Stark is once more in the field at the head of his enthusiastic followers. The militia flocked to his standard without ilelay, and he appears upon the grand scene so renowned in our history. Arrived at Bennington, he is met by General Lincoln, with orders from General Schuyler to conduct his militia to the west bank of the Hudson. Stark slated the orders under which he acted, and the perils to which the people of Vermont would be exposed in the presence of a triumphant soldiery, unless he remained lor their t? and direction — the rcsvdt of his skill and spirit — that a Hriiish lleet, hitherto deemed invincible, was g the battle, did not lessen his enjoyment of it. With pipe in mouth, he coolly superintended the mixing of certain buckets of "grog," — a mixture of Jamaica rum and water, with possibly a moderate infusion of molasses, by way of reconciling the beverage to every taste. He knew the necessity lor some such cheering beverage for his men, at such a season, exposed as they were to ♦he burning sun of a Carolina June, usually the hottest period of the year. The approach of the enemy occasioned no precipitation in his movements. Not a shot was prema- turely discharged from the fort. Not a fuse ligh'ed, -until DEFENCE OF SCJLLIVAN's ISLAND. 39 it was very sure that every shot would teil. The moment was one of intense anxiety to all, seemingly, but himself. The wharves of the city, us steeples and housetops, were thronged with the inhabitants, doubtful of the conflict, and looking momently to the necessity of meeting the success- ful invader at the water's edge, in a last struggle for their homes. Moultrie was not without his emotions. He could see these anxious multitudes. It was the city of his love that he was commanded to defend, and his heart was full of the twofold convictions of duty and affection. But his was the courage which declares itself in a perfect self-pos- session. As soon as his cannon could be trained to bear, he gave the word for action, and thirty pieces, eighteens and twenty-fours, sent out their destructive missiles upon the advancing frigates of the enemy These still continued on their way, until abreast of the fort, when, let- ting go their anchors, with springs on their cables, they poured forth their terrors in a broadside, which made the lowly fortress tremble to its foundations. Then it was discovered, for the first time, that riflemen could make the very best artillerists. Very brief had been the training of the troops of Carolina at the cannon ; but every man was a marksman. Accustomed to the deadly aim of the rifle, they applied their skill to the larger implements of death. Dearly did the Briiish frigates suffer from this peculiar training. Hot and heavy was the fire from the fort, and terrible the havoc that followed. There was no random firing that day. The officers themselves sighted the pieces ere the match was apj)lied ; and now might the slight form of Marion be seen, and now the more massive figure of Moultrie, as removing the pipes from their mouths, they ranged the grim outline of the twenty-fours, and de- spatched its winged missiles to the work of destruction. The Thunder bomb was soon in a condition to spout no more thunder. Her sides shattered, her beds disabled — ♦he drifted out of the field of conflict, no longer an oniecf 40 W I L L I A M M O U L T R J E. cf fear or attention. Her shells had done but little injury. The morass wliich occupied a portion of the interior of the fortress, had received the greater number of them, and Its moist ooze had kindly extinguished their burning matches. Few of them had burst within the enclosure, and these, fortunately, without effect. The attention of the garrison was given to more imposing game. The fifiy- gun ships demanded their greatest consideration. << Mind the commodore!" was the cry that ran along the walls, and declared a proper sense of what was due to superior dignity. "Mind both the fifty-gun ships!',' was the echo, which betrayed a desire for impartiality in the treatment of the strangers, for which, it is very sure, that neither of them was properly grateful. Never was such havoc wrought in British ships before. At one moment, the commodore swung round with her stern to the fort, draw- ing upon her the iron hail from every cannon which could be trained to bear. She paid dearly for the distinguished attention she received, and would have been destroyed, but for the scarcity of powder in the fortress. Despatches were sent to the city for a new sup})Iy, and in the midst of the action, Marion volunteered to obtain some from a small sloop which lay between Haddrill's and the fort. He succeetled in his quest ; and five hundred pounds were sent from Charleston. But all this was inadequate to the work in hand. It was necessary to economize it well, to time every discharge, and to see that none was idly ex- pended in the air. " Be cool, and do mischief," was the advice of Rutledge to Moultrie, accompanying the gun- powder. It was just the policy of our commander. His coolness, though quite annoying to the impetuous Lee, was quite as much so to the British commodore. Yet so deliberately was it necessary that they should use their cannon, that, at one moment, it was thought that the fori was silenced ; but the shouts of the British crews, at this fond but delusive suggestion, were soon sdenced in the SERJEANTS JASPER AND MACDANIEL. 41 terrible answer, written in flame and iron, that came rush- ing and rending through the shattered sides of their ves sels. At another moment, their uniteii broadsides, striking the fort at the same instant, gave it such a tremor, that Moultrie himself was impressed with the fear that a few more such would bring it down about his ears. But his men were not troubled with this apprehension. They caught his infectious coolness, and, when a random shot, faking in its ilight a coat which one of the soldiers had thrown aside, the more coolly to perform his task — they could turn from the foe in front, with a merry laughter, crying to one another to watch the progress of the coat, as it sped into a neighbouring tree. Their sang froid was by no means shared by their anxious brethren who beheld the progress of the battle from the distant cily. These, as the guns of the fortress ceased to respond, except at long intervals, to the unceasing cannonade of the British, sunk into despondency; and their hearts utterly fell, when, smitten by a cannon ball, the crescent flag of Mo-ultrie disappeared before their eyes. It fell without the fortress and upon the beach. It was not sulFered to lie there; but, while the British shouted with new hopes of victory, and while their volleys still filled the air with missiles, Ser- jeant Jasper leaped over the battlements, and, in spite of their fire, proudly rej)lanted the banner once more upon the ramparts. This was an incident — an achievement — to inspire confidence, and to warm every heart with ex- ulting courage. And other examples, akin to this, were not wanting to this famous occasion. A brave fellow, named McDaniel, a serjeant also, was shattered by a shot that raked the embrasure at which he stood. He cried to his comrades as he was borne away from the platform — "I die, comrades, but you will fight on for liberty and our country." And they did fight on. For nearly twelve iours did the strife continue — three hundred against thirty cannon — three thousand men against four hundred. Thp 4* 42 WILLIAM MOULTRIE. balt.e began at ten o'clock in the day, and continued moie or less violently while the day lasted. It did not close with the approach of darkness. It was then that the Bri- tish commodore concentrated all his resources for a final efiTort. The cannonade, incessant as it had been, was now a continued volley of flame and thunder. Broadside afier broadside tried the nerves of the little garrison ; but, while they shook their slight bulwarks to the centre, failed to affect the brave defenders. Night came on, and still the battle lighted up the gloom. The British, loth to quit, still clung, like their own bulldog, to the enemy whom they could no longer hope to subdue. Their plans and hopes had equally failed them. They had made no im- pression on the fortress — they had slain but few of the gar- rison — their land forces had not succeeded in a design to cross a frith or arm of the sea, in order to take the fortress in the rear. Their failure in these object? implied, not only the utter defeat of their plans, but a terrible loss to them in mnteriel and personnel. Three vessels, the Ac- teon, the Sphynx, and Syren, that had been sent round to attack the western extremity of the fort — which was un- finished — had become entangled with a shoal, and ran foul of each other. The Syren and Sphynx succeeded in ex- tricating themselves, but not till they had so severely suf- fered as to be put hors de combat ; while the Acleon stuck fast, and was abandoned by her crew, and destroyed ; but not before a detachment of the Carolinians had boarded her, and discharged her loaded cannon at her retreating consorts. It was half past nine o'clock, before the shouts of the garrison announced the withdrawal of (he enemy's shipping from before the fortress, by which they had been so roughly handled. The fifty-gutT ships had been the slaughter-pens. Never had been such a carnage in pro- portion to the number of persons engaged in ships of war before. The Bristol alone had forty men killed, and se- venty-one wounded. The Experiment suiTered m Iik« HONOURS TO Til K V I CI O 11 S. 43 mnnn<>r. Tlw couuuodorc liiiust'll lost an ann ; and liorct Willintn C;\inpl)(>ll, lale {jfovcrnor o\' Ihc piovinrc, whs mortally wounded. Never was so <;n'a( a viclory olilaiiicd at so small a cost. 'I'lic t^iiriisoti lost hut t(Mi iix'ii slain, and twice tlint nuinUer wounded. Tlu' sol\ spongy wood which forinefi their walls, and whi(*h closed over the one* my\s shot without splinlerinj*-, and the moras.s in the inte- rior of the fort, ill which the shells huried themselves with- out explodini^, were amonj^ the causes which conlrihvited to their forlunnle escape Croni hiuin. A few hours lell only the dchris of the British tleet in the harhour ot Charleston. The assailants withdrew as soon ns possihie, without rcnewinp; ihe attaclc ; Icavinp; the ('arolinians to a lonj^ period of repose, which was due entirely to this <;;al- Innt nclion. F^c**, who woidd liave forejijone Ihe op|)ortu- nity entirely, received, ns |renernl of the army ol iIh- south, the thanks of (;onloNiiiii triMui'il ii kiiiiu! ]iilliir oC Nitioko, wliirh itooii ok- piuidoil ilHoir III. tho |ii|>, mill. In ii|i|ii'!iriuii'i', I'litiiiiil llic I'lfriiro of u |>(lj- DMtto trnu. Tiir slii|) iiuiitodiiUciy Itunil iiilo h ^rcul blu/.o." iVc. 4<^ W I L L I A M M O U L T R I E. that any men ever coultl, behave better," were but natural ebullitions ot" justice, heightened in their value by the ■warm sympathies, and the tearful eyes of admiring beauty. One of the ladies of Charleston — Mrs. Barnard Elliott — a lajdy held in immemorial esteem, presented a pair of co- lours to the regiment, with a speech, in which she confi- dently invoked its courage to defend them, *' as long as they can wave in the air of liberty." The promise was frankly made, and never were colours more honourably supported. Subsequently, planted by a storming party upon the J3ritish lines at Savannah, the ensign . bearers, Lieutenants Bush and Hume, were both shot down ; Lieu- tenant Gray, making an elFort to carry them forward, shared the same fate. Serjeant Jasper, to whom Governor Rutledge gave a sword after the battle of Fort Moulirie, seizing one of the flags from the falling Hume, received his death wound also ; but he bore away the precious en- sign in safety. They were boih subsequently lost at the surrender of Charleston, and are now among the innume- rable trophies of British triumph in the Tower of London. Moultrie received the thanks of Congress after Lee. The fort which he had so well defended, was called by his name, under legislative enactment. He rose, in spite of his easy disposition, in the estimation of General Lee, who proposed to him to lead an expedition against St. Augustine. Moullrie's brother heitl the place as a British loyalist. Lee apprehended that this might be a difficulty, and approached the subject with much hesitation and de- licacy. Moultrie soon reassured him in this respect. 'r TT «; ~^ 50 WILLIAM MOULTRIE. people, produced in the Charlestonlans a certain degree of recklessness. Their muslcets were frequently charged to the muzzle with their remaining cartridges, and Hung hidilferently into a promiscuous heap. The consequence was an explosion. The powder was fired, and the buihl- ing thrown into the air, destroying the entire guard of lifty men, at a single blow. Their dismembered fragments were found far from the scene of explosion. One poor wretch was flung with such violence against the steeple of a neighbouring church as to impress it distinctly with the bloody outlines of his mangled carcass. The neigh- bouring houses were thrown down in the earthquake that followed, or set on fire by the rising flames. As the fire spread on every side, another of the magazines became endangered, and produced general consternation. The British troops regarding these events as the result of de- sign on the part of the citizens, turned out tumultuously ; and Moultrie himself was arrested by a Hessian officer, who charged the treachery upon him. Seized and put in close confinement, he might have incurred the worst peril from the suspicions of the ignorant Hessians, but that he contrived to convey to the British general (Leslie) an ac- count of his predicament, and he immediately ordered his release. Of Moultrie's coolness at this juncture, an anec- dote remains which is worth telling. While the alarm was wildest, he met a British olficer, who asked him what quantity of powder was in the magazine supposed to be endangered. When answered that there were ten thou- sand pounds, he exclaimed — " Sir, if it takes fire, it will blow your ^own to hell !" " It will certainly make a hell of a blast,' was the reply of Moultrie, in a similar spirit, and continuing his walk. The blow and blast were equally spared to the terrified city. The flames were extinguished, the magazine saved, and the powder preserved for mis- chief of another sort. Moultrie remained a captive for two years in the hands Balfour's letter to his son 51 of the British. They were prepared to take him more nearly to their afTeclions. They knew his value, and were disposed to secure his support for the crown ; but they made one mistake, in not having duly known his worth Lieutenant-Colonel Balfour's written proposals to his son are still on record. He writes thus — " Mr. Moultrie, your father's character and your own have been represented to me in such a light that I wish to serve you both. What I have to say, I will sura up in few words. I wish you to propose to your father to relinquish the cause he is now engaged in, which he may do without the least dishonour to himself He has only to enclose his commission to the first general (General Greene, for instance) — the command will devolve on the next officer. This is of en done in our service. Any officer may resign his commission in the field, if he chooses. If your father will do this, he may rely on me. He shall have his estate restored, and all damages paid. I believe you are the only heir of your father. For you, sir, if he continues firm, I shall never ask you to bear arms against him. These favours, you may depend, I shall be able to obtain from my Lord Cornwallis. You may rely upon my honour — this matter shall never be divulged by me." Young Moultrie was fashioned in the same mould with his sire. The process described as so innocent by Bal- four — " as easy as lying," in the words of Hamlet — was but little to his taste. He at once declined the dishonour- able service, saying, that he should convey no such pro- posal to his father, whom, he was very sure, would never listen to it. But the arch-enemy was not to be so easily baffled. The attempt was renewed through another me- dium. Lord Charles Montague — formerly a governor of the province-^was the personal friend of Moultrie They had served together on the provincial establishment ; and frequent intercourse, and a real esteem, had cemented their intimacy into friendship. The British authoritie* bit WILLIAM MOULTRIE. detei mined to avail themselves of this medium to dia> honour both the parties. Monlague, afier requesting an 'nterview with Moultrie, wiiich seems to nave been de- clined, writes him thus. We make extracts from his letter only. "You have now fought bravely in the cause of your country for many years, and, in my opinion, have fulfilled the duty which every individual owes to it. You have had your share of hardship and dilliculties ; and if the contest is still to be continued, younger hands should now take the toil from yours. You have now a fair opening for quitting that service with honour and reputation to yourself, by going to Jamaica with me. The world will readily attribute it to the known friendship that has sub- sisted between us; and by quitting this country for a short time, you would avoid any disagreeable conversations, and might return at leisure, to take possession of your estates and family." In proof of his sincerity, Montague offers to yield to Moultrie the command of his regiment, and serve under him. He appeals to him by his old friendship — by their long and pleasant intimacy — and by the great importance, to both nations, of conciliation and peace. But the very earnestness of his appeal, betrays his own doubts of his success. Moultrie acquits him of having voluntarily con- ceived the application. His answer, from which we ex- tract passages only, is full of the mild majesty of an indignation sobered by a contempt of the occasion which provokes it. "I tlatiered myself that I stood in a more favouiable light with you You are pleased to compli- ment me with having fought bravely in my country's cause In your opinion, I hav€ fulfdled the duty that every individual owes it I differ very widely from you in thinking that I have discharged mjP duty to my country, while it is still deluged with EXTRACTS FROM HIS LETTER. 53 blood, and overrun by British troops, who exercise the most savage cruelties When I entered irtto this contest I did it after the most mature deliberation, and with a dftermined resohiiion to risk life and fortune in the cause. The hardships I have gone through, I look back upon with the greatest pleasure and honour to myself. I shall continue as I have begun ; that my example may encourage the youth of America to stand forth in defence of their rights and liberties. You tell me I have a fair opening for quitting that service with honour and reputa- tion, by going with you to Jamaica. Good God ! is it possible that such an idea can arise in the breast of a man of honour! I am sorry you should imagine I have so little regard for reputation as to listen to such dishonour- able proposals. Would you wish to have the man whom you have honoured with your friendship play the traitor.'' Surely not I You say that, by quitting this country for a short time, I might avoiil disagreeable conversations; and that I might return at my leisure, and take possession of my estates, for myself and family' But ynu have forgot to tell me how I am to get rid of the feelings of an injured and honest heart — and where lam to hide myself from my- self! Could I be guilty of so much baseness, I should hate myself, and shun mankind. This would be a fatal exchange for my present situation — with an easy and ap- proving conscience — having done my duty^ and conducted myself us a man of honour I wish for a re- conciliation as much as any man, but only upon honour- able terms. The repossessing my estates — the ofTer of your regiment — the honour you propose of serving under me — are paltry considerations, to the loss of my reputation. No! not the fee-simple of all Jamaica should induce me to part with my integrity My Lord, as you have made one proposal, give me leave to make another, which will be more honourable to us both I would have you propose the withdrawing of the British 5* 54 W I L L I A »t M U L T R I C. troops from the continent of Aniericn, allow its Imlepend- encc, and propose a peace. This done, I will use all my interest to accept the terms, and allow Great Britain a free trade with America." This performance, equally unaflected, unstudied, and noble, deserves to be kept on record. It shows the most sterling stiilf for a national character. It is worthy of the best patriotism of our country. It silenced the tempter. It showed not only a virtue above temptation, but an in- telligence which no subtlety could deceive. Moultrie was not to be \\in\\ to Jamaica by the suggestion that he should not, in this way, be serving the British cause against his countrymen. For every tcndcrly-conscienced American whom this plausible suggestion seduced from his duty, an English soldier was relieved of service in the West Indies, to fight against America at her own firesides. The two years that Moultrie remained in captivity, were very far from being years of idleness and repose. He was busy in a constant warfare with the British authori- ties, in urging justice for the prisoners, ami tor the people of the country ; in vigilantly keeping the enemy to the terms of the capitulation, and in remonstrating against the repeatetl violation of the guiiranties. His correspondence, preserved in his "Memoirs," is singularly voluminous and valuable. These "Memoirs," in two octavos, form one of the most interesting and useful bodies of historical ma- terial. He preserved his papers with remarkable care, and notes events with singular circumspection and accuracy. He is not a practised writer ; but he is clear, frank, un- affected ; and his pages are interspersed with frequent in- stances of a quiet humour, which make his recitals cheer- ful and attractive. By the terms of a cartel made on the 3d May, 1781, Moultrie was sulfered to go to Philadelpliia. An ex- change of the prisoners taken with Burgoyne, occasioned Kis final release from captivity ; but this ev^nt did not lake K X T R A C T FROM HIS MEMOIRS. 55 place, nor was his parole cancelled, until the ciose of Feb- ruary, 1782. He was promoted by Congress to the rank of major-general ; but the day of active service and farther distinction was gone by. While Moultrie remained a prisoner, the most exciting events in the war were in pro- gress. Gates had been defeated at Caiuden; Greene had succeeded to the command. The battles of Hobkirk, King's Mountain, Cowpens, Guilford, had taken place; and nothing remained of the conflict, but the closing scenes ; the two armies, exhausted combatants, sullenly gazing on each odier, with unsubdued ferocity, but with- out the vigour to renew the combat. A single extract from tlie "Memoirs" of our veteran will not only afford us a just picture of this condition of the two armies, and of the field of struggle, but will show Moultrie's manner as a writer. He prepares to visit the camps of Generals Greene and Marion, and leaves Winyah late in September. "It was the most dull, melancholy, and dreary ride that any one could possibly take, of about one hundred miles, through the woods of that country which I had been ac- customed to see abound with live-stock and wild fowl of every kind. It was now destilule of all. It had been so completely chequered by the different parties, that not one part of it had been left unexplored. Consequently, not a vestige of horses, cattle, hogs, or deer, was to be found. The squirrels, and birds of every kind, were totally destroyed. The dragoons told me that, on their scouts, no living creature was to be seen ; except now and then a few camp scavengers, (turkey buzzards,) picking the bones of some unfortunate fellows, who had been shot or cut down, and left in the woods above ground. In my visit to General Greene's camp, as there was some danger from the enemy, I made a circuitous route to General Marion's camp, then on Santee river, to get an escort; which he gave me, of twenty infantry and twenty cavalry. ThesH, with the volunteers that attended me from George- 56 WILLIAM MOULTRIE. town, made (is pretty strong. On my way from General Marion's to General Greene's camp, my plantation was in the direct road, where I called and stayed a night. On entering the place, as soon as the negroes discovered that I was of the party, there was immediately a general alarm, and an outcry through the plantation, that *■ Mmiasa was come! Maussa was come!' and they were running from every part with great joy to see me. I stood in the piazza to receive them. 1 hey gazed at me with astonish- ment, and every one came and took me by the hand, say- ing, 'God bless you, Maussa! we glad for see you, Maussa,' and every now and then some one or other would come out with a 'Ky!'* and the old Africans joined in a war song in their own language, of ' Welcome the warrior home !' It was an affecting meeting between the slaves and their master. The tears stole from my eyes and ran down my cheeks. A number of gentlemen who were with me at the time, could not help being affected by the scene. I then possessed about two hundred slaves, and not one of them left me during the war, although they had great offers — nay, some were carried down to work on the British lines; yet they always contrived to make their escape and return home. My plantation I found to be a desolate place; stock of every kind taken off; the furniture carried away. My estate had been under sequestration. The next day we arrived at General Greene's camp," &c. The 6on//om?n?(; of this narrative is delightful. It shows something of that amiable character, which curiously con- trasted, in Moultrie, with his firmness of purpose, and in- flexible decision. On the 14th December, 1782, the Bri- tish evacuated Charleston, and the American army under Greene, resumed possession of it. Moultrie w-as necessa- rily conspicuous in the triumphant procession. His feel- • "Ky!'' An African interjection, showing a delighted astonishment, equivalent to "Is it possible 1— can the good new« be really true''"— Editor. HISDEATH. OT iijgs may be conjectured. He returned to the native city for which he had so frequently fought, now in the smiles, and now under the frowns of fortune. "It was a proud day to me," he exclaims, in the fulness of his heart; "and I felt myself much elated at seeing ihe balconies, the doors and windows, crowded wi;h the patriotic fair, the aged citizens and others, congratulating us on our return home, saying, 'God bless you, gentlemen — God bless you !— You are welcome home!'" The close of the revolutionary war did not close the public career of Moultrie. The establishment of a new government — that of a republican state — afforded a grate- ful opportunity to his countrymen, of which they promptly availed themselves, to acknowledge his great and patriotic service. In 1785, he was raised to the gubernatorial ^hair of South Carolina, being the third person to whom this honour had been accorded. During his administra- tion, the town of Columbia was lai(] out for the seat of government. In 1794, he was a second time elected to this office, the duties of which he fulfilled with honour and to the satisfaction of all parlies. His career, hencefor- ward, to the close of his life, was one of uninterrupted and honourable repose. Slander never presumed to smutch his garments. Of a calm, equable temper, great good sense, a firm undaunted spirit, a kind heart, and easy indulgent moods, he was beloved by his personal associates, and revered by all. His character is one of those of which his career will sufficiently speak. He lived beyond the ap- pointed limits of human life — dying on the 27th Septem- ber, 1805, in the seventy-fifth year of his age. His name, deeds, and virtues, constitute a noble portion of American character, to which we may point the attention of our 8ons, with a sure confidence in the (xcellence of his example BRIGADIKR-GENERAL JOSEPH REED. WnKN Washington wtMit into winter-quarters, aHer the victories of Trenton ami Princeton had brought the campaign of 1776 to a close so unexpectedly successful, his thouglits were employed in maturing new j)lans of military organization, and in obtaining the aid of able associates in the service of the country. More than a year's e\}>erience as commander-in-chief, and the disas- ters as well as the success of the last campaign, had shown him not only the necessities of the service, but the cha- racters and qualilications of men who had been his com- panions in the councils and conduct of the war. , liesides the appointment of additional genera^ officers, a subject which he hail greatly at heart was to give increased effi- ciency to the cavalry service of the army. The necessity for this was strongly felt. The nature of the country, and the manner in which the war was carried on were calcu- lated to give to cavalry service many an opportunity of contributing to the success of the American cause. Well convinced of this, and strengthened in his conviction by the fresh exjierience of his camjiaign in the Jerseys, W^ashington wrote to Congress, on the 22d of January, 1777 : — " I beg leave to recommend Colonel Reed for the command of the horse as a person, in my opinion, in every way qualilied ; lor he is extremely active and enterpris- ing, many signal ])roofs of which he has given this cam- paign." Irj the month of May, 1777, Joseph Reed, of Pennsyl- vania, was elected by Congress a brigadier in the conti- nental army, and shortly allerwards a resolution was adopted empowering the commander-in-chiel to give the 68 APPOINTED A BHIGADIKK-UKNKRAL. 59 command of the light-horse to one of the generals already appointf'd. It was in anticijiation of such a lotter that Washington had said in a private letter: — <'IfCongies8 have it not in contemplation to appoint a general of horse, but leave it to me to assign one of the brigadiers already appointed to that command, I shall assuredly place Gene- ral Reed there, as it is agreeable to my own recom- mendation and original design." On the day on which Washington received the resolution of Congress, he wrote to General Reed an official letter, assigning to him the command of the cavalry, and in a private letter to him, he added : — " I sincerely wish that you may accept the appointment of Congress and the post I am desirous of placing you in, and must beg to be favoured with an an- swer iirimediately on the subject, as the service will not admit of delay. A general ofhcer in that department would not only take off a great deal of trouble from rne, but be a means of bringing the regiments into order and ser- vice with much more facility than it is in my power, di- vided as they are, pos!-Jbly to do." Such was the distinguished mark of Washington's mili- tary' and personal confidence in Reed's character as a pa- triot soldier, and it will accord with the plan of these vo- lumes to show how that confidence had been won, and how it was sustained by the valour and soldierly ability which Reed displayed in subsequent campaigns — to trace their friendship and their companionship in arms. The story of Reed's military career is in all respects illustrative of a revolutionary period of history. The pre- paration and aims of his life were purely civil ; the whole course of his education was for a peaceful profession, and when he became a soldier, it was not with any purpose of giving himself up to a new vocation, but because the necessities of a revolution placed him for a time in a new 8j)here of duties. Civil pursuits were laid aside but not abandoned. At his country's call the unexpected respon- 60 J C S E P H R E E D. sibilities of military rank were cheerfully undertaken, without a thought however of entering permanently upon the profession of arms, and without a solicitude for mili- tary promotion. His connection with the army of the Revolution had its immediate origin in the personal friendship of Washington, at whose solicitation he ac- cepted the several military appointments which were con- ferred upon him, and with whom he afterwards continued to serve as a volunteer. Joseph Reed was born at Trenton, in New Jersey, on the 27th of August, 1742. Having received a liberal and sound education, he prepared himself for professional usefulness by a thorough course of law-studies, which he completed at the Temple, in London. With the prospects of peaceful pursuits in civil life, he settled in the city of Philadelphia, where he devoted his talents and industry successfully to the practice of his profession. With the progress of political affairs he was at the same time ac- tively conversant, and was among the most strenuous in the province of Pennsylvania in opposing the obnoxious measures of the ministry and the parliament, and in as- serting the justice of the colonial cause. His anticipa- tions of the results of the contest between the mother- country and the colonies were at an early period clear and decided. Studious of the course of events, and fore- seeing their consequences, he forewarned wherever he thought the warning might prove availing, either to deter the oppressor or to animate resistance. It was as early as the summer of 1774, and to a minis- ter of the crown, that he wrote : — " A few days ago we were alarmed with a report that General Gage had can- nonaded the town of Boston. So general a resentment, amounting even to fury, appeared everywhere, that I firmly believe, if it had not been contradicted, thousands would have gone at their own expense, to have joined in tlie revenge. I believe had the news proved true, ao * LETTERS AND OPINIONS. 61 army of forty thousand men, well provided with every thing except cannon, would before this have been on its march to Boston. From these appearances, and the de- cided language of all ranks of people, I am convinced, my lord, that if blood be once spilled we shall be in- volved in all the horrors of a civil war. Unacquainted either from history or experience with the calamities inci- dent to such a state, with minds full of resentment at the severity of the mother-country, and stung with the con- tempt with which their petitions have always been re- ceived, the Americans are determined to risk all the con- sequences. I am fully satisfied, my lord, and so I think must every man be, whose views are not limited to the narrow bounds of a single province, that America never can be governed by force ; so daring a spirit as animates her will require a greater power than Great Britain can spare, and it will be one continued conflict till depopula- tion and destruction follow your victories, or the colonies establish themselves in some sort of independence," Such was the bold and manly description which the young American gave of the indomitable spirit of his countrymen — such was the plain language which the co- lonist in private life addressed to the minister who stood beside the British throne — such was the unavailing warn- ing more than half a year before blood was spilled on the first battle-field of the American Revolution. Writing at the same time to a friend in London, Mr. Reed said: — " In my opinion, the first drop of blood spilled in America will occasion a total suspension of all commerce and con- nection. We are indeed on the melancholy verge of civil war. United as one man, and breathing a spirit of the most animating kind, the colonies are resolved to risk the consequences of opposition to the late edicts of par- liament. All ranks of people, from the highest to the lowest, speak the same language, and, I believe, will act tlie sam.e part. I know of no power in this country that 62 JOSEPHREED. can p;otect an opposer of the public voice and conduct. A spirit and resolution is manifested which would not have disgraced the Romans in their best days.^' It was to his friend and fellow-patriot, Josiah Qaincy, that Reed wrote : "All now is union and firmness; and I trust we shall exhibit such a proof of public virtue and enlightened zeal in the most glorious of ail causes, as will hand down the present age with the most illustrious cha- racters of antiquity. * * * England must see that opposition to parliamentary tyranny is not local or par- tial. I congratulate you, my dear sir, upon the rising glory of America. Our operations have been almost too slow for the accumulated sufferings of Boston. Should this bloodless war fail of its effect, a great majority of the colonies will make the last appeal, before they resign their liberties into the hands of any ministerial tyrant." How true and earnest a sympathy dwelt in the hearts of the men of those times, and how solemn were their forebodings and their hopes, may be seen in the impres- sive response of Quincy, whose words sound with a deeper awe, proving as they did almost the last utterance of the dying patriot. " I look to my countrymen with the feelings of one who verily believes they must yet seal their faith and con- stancy with their blood. This is a distressing witness indeed. But hath not this ever been the lot of humanity .-' Hath not blood and treasure in all ages been the price of civil liberty ? Can Americans hope a reversal of the laws of our nature, and that the best of blessings will be ob- tained and secured without the sharpest trials .'' Adieu, my friend, my heart is with you, and whenever my coun- trymen command, my person shall be also." When Washington came to Philadelphia as a delegate from Virginia to the first continental Congress, there ap- pears to have grown up during his abode there an inti- macy between him and Joseph Reed, and it was in the JOINSTHEARMY. 63 sympathies and conferences of those times that the found- ation was laid of a confidential friendship which was strengthened by the union of counsels and efforts in the most anxious hours of the Revolution. When by virtue of his appointment as commander-in-chief, Washington proceeded to the seat of war, he was accompanied by seve- ral of his personal friends. Among them Mr. Reed found himself attracted to the camp at Cambridge and Wash- ington's head-quarters by the joint motives of private friendship and public zeal. It was unexpected news to his family and the friends he had left in the quiet homes where the war had not yet reached, when intelligence was brought that he had accepted from Washington the appointment of his military secretary. This unpremedi- tated and unlooked-for step was the beginning of a mili- tary career which made Joseph Reed one of the generals in the war of American independence. It was probably with no thought of changing civil for military life that he had left his home, but in reply to some friendly remon- strance against the step he had taken, he wrote : " I have no inclination to be hanged for half-treason. When a subject draws his sword against his prince he must cut his way through, if he means afterwards to sit down in safety. I have taken too active a part in what may be called the civil part of opposition to renounce without disgrace the public cause when it seems to lead to dan- ger, and have a most sovereign contempt for the man who 'an plan measures he has not spirit to execute." Mr. Reed was thus brought into relations of constant and domestic intimacy with Washington. He was a member of his family, and the duties of the secretaryship were such as not only to lead to intercourse of a most confidential nature, but to enable the secretary to give valuable assistance to the commander-in-chief amid the nranifold and perplexing cares of his station. The office was also important as giving Mr. Reed a kind of military 64 JOSEPH REED. apprenticeship, and of bringing into exercise the talents and energies which he possessed for a soldier's life. It was in this first service, and in such close connection with Washington, that he learned a soldier's duties, and acquired apparently that taste for a soldier's life, which during an important part of the war led him away from civil into military service. When the pressure of public and private business made it necessary lor Reed to return for a season to Philadi'lphia, the value of his services and the strength of Washington's aifection for him are best shown by the extended and confidential correspondence which was maintained between them. To no one did Washington more freely unbosom himself in his most anx- ious hours — from no one did he more freely invite unre- served and canilid counsel. It has been remarked Uiat Washington wrote to his first secretary with an openness, a carelessness, a famiHarity, and a jocularity of tone which he seems never to have used to any other person, and which places his character almost in a new light. In the early part of 1776, the office of adjutant-general became vacant by the promotion of General Gates, and Washington's niiiul immediately turned to his favourite secretary as his choice for this important and difficult post. During a visit to Pluladel[)hia he held a personal conference with Congress, and, at his recommendation, Joseph Reed was elected adjutant-general of the conti- nental army. Thus it is that in periods of revolutionary changes, men become soldiers almost unawares. The appointment, sudden and unsolicited, gave a new direc- tion to Reed's life. The manly afiection with which he communicated it to his wife is at once characteristic of the man and of the times. "You will be surprised," he wrote to her, "but I hope not dejected, when I tell you that a great revolution has happened in my prospects and views. Yesterday tli»* general sent for me, and in a very obliging manner APPOINTED ADJUTANT-GENERAL. 65 pressed me to accept tlie office of adjutant-general, which General Gates lately fdled. The proposal was new and surprising, so that I requested till this day to consider of it. I objected my want of military knowledge, but seve- ral members of Congress and the general treated it sc lightly, and in short said so many things, that I have con- sented to go. The appointments of the office will help to support us till these calamitous times are at an end. Be- sides, this post is honourable, and if the issue is favour- able to America, mu.st put me on a respectable scale. Should it be otherwise, I have done enough to expose myself to ruin. I have endeavoured to act for the best, and hope you will think so." In a few days after his appointment, Colonel Reed joined the army and entered on his new duties. The adjutant- generalship of even a well-disciplined and veteran army is a post of high responsibility and of arduous labours. The toils and responsibilities of the office were greatly aggravated in an army like the continental army, com- posed not only of raw and untrained troops, but of elements in all respects heterogeneous. The task of discipline was most discouraging, but the share of it which belonged to the adjutant-general was executed with a vigilance and energy which justified Washington's choice ; and when the office was resigned, Reed was en- titled to say to Congress : " I have the satisfaction of re- flecting that, during my continuance in office, the army never was surprised, (for Long Island was a separate com- mand, and I was not there till I accompanied the gene- ral, ) that I never was absent one hour fiom duty during ;he whole summer, fall, and winter, till sent to stir up the tuilitia of Jersey " Tt belongs to history or to more elaborate biography than a work like this, to trace the course of the campaign in New York and New Jersey, and the services of the gene- ral and staff officers who shared in it with Washington. 6* E 66 J O S E P II R E E D. It will be appropriate here rather to notice some of the interesting incidents connected with the history of that period, especially those in which the subject of this notice bore a part. When Lord Howe arrived in America, as the British commander-in-chief and commissioner, it is well known that at the outset difficulties in the way of the proposed negotiation arose from the reluctance to recognise in any way the official rank and title of the American com- mander-in-chief. To Reed, as adjutant-general, was in- trusted the conduct of the first interview. It took place on the 14th of July, about half-way betw-een Governor's Island and Staten Island, where the boats met. The par- ticulars are thus given by Colonel Reed: '< After I had written my letter to you, a flag came in from Lord Howe. The general officers advised the gene- ral not to receive any letter directed to him as a private gentleman, I was sent down to meet the flag. A gen- tleman, an oflicer of the navy, met us, and said he had a letter from Lord Howe to Mr. Washington. I told him we knew no such person in the army. He then took out a letter directed to George Washington, Esquire, and offered it to me. I told him I could not receive a letter to the general under such a direction. Upon which he expressed much concern ; said the letter was rather f)f a civil than military nature ; that Lord Howe regretted he had not come sooner ; that he had great powers, and it was much to be wished the letter could be received. I told him I could not receive it consistently with my duty. Here we parted. After he had gone some distance he put about, and we again met him. He then asked me under what title General — but catcliing himself — Mr. Washing- ton chose to be addressed. I told him the general's sta- tion in the army w^as well known ; that they could be at no loss ; that this matter had been discussed last summer, of which I supposed the admiral could no* be ignorant SKIRMISH AT NEW YORK. G7 He then expressed his sorrow at the disappointment and here we parted. I cannot help thinking but that we 5hall have a renewal of it to-day, or a communication of the business in some other way. For though I have no hopes that the letter contains any terms to which we can accede, or, in short, any thing more than a summons of submission, yet the curiosity of the people is so great, and if it is, as may be supposed, couched in strong and debasing terms, it would animate the army exceedingly to do their duly." Reed's first service in battle was at the time of the series of engagements on Long Island, at the close of the month of August, 1776. lie accompanied Washington when he crossed over from New York to Brooklyn, and remained on Long Island till the embarkation of the whole American forces was effected, and the troops landed in New York. Disastrous as had been the result of the bat- tle of Long Island, it was the first time in the war that American soldiers had met the enemy in the field, and it had in some measure given proof of their ability to en- counter a disciplined army in open conilict. The heavy loss upon Long Island had however dispirited the troops, and this became evident in the disorderly flight, which Washington witnessed with so much indignation, when the advance guards of the British army landed on New York Island. The engagement that unexpectedly occur- red on the 17th of September, had a happy effect in re- storing the confidence of the American soldiers, and proving their strength. It was indeed their first success- ful encounter in open field. Colonel Reed was so fortu- nate as to participate in it. Speaking of it, he said :-- «It hardly deserves the name of a battle ; but as it was a scene so different from what had happened the day before, jt elevated the spirits of our troops, and in that respect has been of great service." A report was brought to head-quarters that the enemy was advancing in three 68 J S E P H R E t D. large columns. The frequency of false alarms ( the kind causing some distrust, the adjutant-genera went down to the most advanced post, and while conversing with the officer of the guard, the enemy's advance ap- peared and gave their fire, at the distance of about fifty yards. The fire was returned, and the men held their ground, until being overpowered with numbers they were forced to retire, — the enemy continuing to advance rap- idly. The British bugles were sounded, as in a fox- cJiase, as an insult to their retreating foe. The adjutant- g<-neral hastened to head-quarters to obtain Washington's or tiers for a pro})er support to the guards that had been d iven in, and returned, in (company with Putnam and Greene, with a detachment of Virginians, commanded b'f Major Leitch. These were joined by a party of Con- n'"'cticut troops, led by Colonel Knowlton. «< In a few minutes," as Reed described it, << our brave fellows mounted up the rocks, and attacked the enemy with great spirit, and pressing on with great ardour, the enemy gave way, and left us the ground, which was strewed pretty thick with dead, chiefly the enemy, though it since turns out that our loss is also considerable. The pursuit of a fly- ing enemy was so new a scene that it was with difficulty our men could be brought to retreat, which they did in very good order. You can hardly conceive the change it has made in our army. 'I'he men have recovered their spirits, and feel a confidence which before they had quite lost." This advantage was not gained, however, without the loss of Knowlton and Leitch, who both fell mortally wounded. <* Our greatest loss," said Reed, " is poor Knowlton, whose name and spirit ought to be immortal. I assisted him off, and when gasping in the agonies of death, all his inquiry was, if we had driven the enemy." Reed continued to share with Washington the cares and dangers of the campaign of 1776, and remained with SERVICES IN NEW JERSEY 69 mm until he was despatched, during the retreat through New Jersey, to use his influence with the legislature of that state to raise more troops. It was at that time that he proceeded to carry into effect the intention which he had already communicated to Washington, of resigning the commission of adjutant-general. Believing that the active operations of the campaign were over, and that both armies were aboutto go into winter-quarters, Col. Reed sent his commission in a letter to the president of Congress. At midnight of the same day he received an express from Washington, informing him that the enemy, encouraged by the broken state of the American army, had changed their plan, and were advancing rapidly towards the Dela- ware. On receiving this intelligence, he instantly de- spatched a messenger to recall his resignation. The mes- senger reached Philadelphia before the session of Congress was opened for the day, and returned with the commis- sion, with which Reed rejoined Washington at Trenton. After a few days he was ordered by the commander-in- chief, as the bearer of a special message to Congress, to urge the necessity of hastening on the reinforcements to the army, now alarmingly diminished. This appeal brought out a body of Pennsylvania militia, which were posted under the command of General Cadwalader, at Bristol, where the adjutant-general was sent by Washing- ton to assist in organizing these new levies. His know- ledge of the country and acquaintance with the inhabit- ants, enabled him also to render important service, by obtaining accurate information for Washington respecting the movements of the enemy. During the campaign Reed appears to have been the earnest advocate of offen- sive operations, wherever there was a reasonable prospect of success. This was characteristic of a spirit that ap- pears to have been full of enterprise and energy, and of an ardent and somewhat impetuous temper ; he thought, too that the state of the American cause left no choice 70 JOSEPH REED. but to run the risk of striking a bold and decisive blow. '< The militia," he argued, " must be taken before their spirits and patience are exhausted ; and the scattered, aivided state of the enemy affords us a fair opportunity of trying what our men will do when called to an offensive ittack." His great solicitude at this time especially was for resuming offensive operations, and it was from Bristol, on the 22d of December, he wrote to Washing- ton : " Will it not be possible, ray dear general, for your troops, or such part of them as can act with advantage, to make a diversion or something more, at or about Tren- ton ? The greater the alarm, the more likely will success attend the attacks. If we could possess ourselves again of New Jersey, or any considerable part of it, the effects would be greater than if we had never left it." It was with the frankness of a true friendship, and with confiden('e in the wisdom and good feeling of Washington, that Reed added : " Allow me to hope that you will con- sult your own good judgment and spirit, and not let the goodness of your heart subject you to the influence of opinions from men in every respect your inferiors," On the same day that this letter was written to urge a move- ment which, perhaps, was already in contemplation at head- quarters, W^ashington sent for Reed, and communicated to him the outlines of a plan of attack on the Hessians at Trenton. The adjutant-general was then sent to assist in the command of an attack to be made simultaneously on the Hessians under Count Donop, posted lower down. The latter movement having failed in consequence of the state of the river. Reed rejoined the main body of the army in time to share in the battle of Princeton, and the operations that led to it. The success of military operations being always more or less dependent on accurate topographical knowledge, this was especially the case at the close of the campaign of 1776, and to the knowledge thus needed it was hap- J!. F Fair near Princeton. 71 pily in Reed's power to contribute largely. Trenton was his birth-place, the home of his boyhood, — Princeton was his abode during his college years, but how little could he have dreamed, in the early days of his life, in the times "^f colonial loyalty, that the familiarity which, as a youth, he w^as, almost unconsciously, acquiring with the roads, and water-courses and fords, would one day enable him to do good service to his country in her hour of peril. The ravages of the enemy had struck such ter- ror among the people, that no rewards could tempt any of them to go into Princeton, where the main body of the British army had advanced, to obtain intelligence. The adjutant-general having secured the services of six horse- men, volunteers from the Philadelphia troop, went to re- connoitre the enemy's advance-posts ; and this little party did not return until, besides accomplishing their special object, they had distinguished themselves by an adven- ture, the intrepidity of which was as remarkable as its success. The party had advanced to within about two miles of Princeton, near enough to have sight of the top of the college buildings, when a British soldier was seen passing from a barn to a farm-house. Two of the party were sent to bring him in, but others being seen, the whole of the small party was ordered to charge. The charge was made, and twelve dragoons, w-ell armed, with their pieces loaded, and with the advantage of the house, surrendered to seven horsemen, six of whom had never seen an enemy before, and, almost in sight of the British army, were carried off and brought prisoners into the American camp at Trenton on the same evening. The intelligence gained by this gallant adventure, under Reed's command, was that Cornwallis had reached Princeton with a large reinforcement, and that the whole British force, amounting to some seven or eight thousand men. were soon to march to dislodge Washington from I'renton. 72 JOSEPHREED. Il was undoubtedly the most critical moment in the American Revolution, when the advance division of the British army made its appearance in Washington's front, posted as he was, near Trenton, with nearly the whole force on which the cause of American freedom depended. It is easy now to see how narrow was the escape from utter ruin — how the fresh-won victory at Trenton might have proved the delusive prelude to the slaughter or the surrender of the American army. Washington's position was apparently a strong one, but the real danger of it was felt, when Reed, from his intimate knowledge of the country, suggested that while the stream, behind whica the army lay, was not fordable in their front, or the im- mediate neighbourhood, there were fords at no great dis- tance, — that if the enemy should divert them in front and at the same time throw a body of troops across the Assanpink, a few miles up, the American army would be completely enclosed, with the Delaware in their rear, over which there would be neither time nor means to "ffect a retreat. The adjutant-general was accordingly ordered to ascertain the condition of the fords, one of which, at a distance of only three miles, was found to admit of an easy passage. The campaign which had begun with the surj)rise in the battle of Long Island, might have ended with a surprise far more disastrous, for it would have been without the possibility of retreat. The position of the army was untenable. To await for de fence was to await destruction. W^hen the sun went down on the 2d of January, 1777, the advance guards of the two armies were separated only by a narrow stream : the sentinels were walking within sound of each other's tread ; the American and the British fires were burnina: so near that they seemed like the fires of one encamp- ment. From that extremity of danger came the final glory of the campaign, for the midnight march on Prince- ton was resolved upon. The only letter or written ordei BATTLE OF PRINCETON. 73 which is known to remain as a memorial of the doings of that night of anxiety and of peril, is the adjutant-general's letter to Putnam. It was probably written when the mid- night march had just begun — when the fires of the aban- doned American camp were still burning. « East side of Trenton Creek, January 2d, 1777. «< Twelve o"* clock at night. *' Dear General Putnam, — The enemy advanced ipon us to-day. We came to the east side of the river or creek which runs through Trenton, when it was re- solved to make a forced march and attack the enemy in Princeton. In order to do this with the greater security, our baggage is sent off to Burlington. His excellency begs you will march immediately forward with all the force you can collect at Crosswicks, where you will find a very advantageous post : your advanced party at Allen- town, You will also send a good guard for our baggage, wherever it may be. Let us hear from you as often as possible. We shall do the same by you. " Yours, J. Reed." This letter is quoted, not because the plan of this w'ork admits of the introduction of original documents, but because no language of mere description presents the doings of that important night so vividly to the imagina- tion. Having transmitted the commander-in-chief's last order on leaving the banks of the Assanpink, Reed, with the other staff officers, accompanied Washington to Prince- ton, and on that well-fought field bore his part in a battle to which his knowledge of the country had con- tributed. Af'er a campaign so gloriously ended, and when the army was fairly settled in winter-quarters, the adjutant- general of the army of 1776 was well entitled to carry Vol. it. 7 74 JOSEPH REED. into effect his postponed purpose of resigning his com- mission. From the first to the very last of the difficult service of Ihat doubtful, and at one time almost desperate campaign, he was in the unintermitted discharge of his duties — ever active, enterprising, and intrepid. Enjoying Washington's confidential friendship, he knew, as the world has since known from the published correspond- ence, the deep cares — the thoughtful forebodings that saddened Washington's heroic mind. With Washington, Reed thought that, unless their countrymen rallied so as to give the enemy some successful stroke, the cause was hopeless. In the gloomiest days of the Revolution, Reed never ceased to be what he had been in more hopeful seasons, the earnest advocate of bold offensive operations, and his only fear was the apprehension of the predomi- nance of undecisive counsels. The gloom which hung over the country, as it witnessed the fading fortunes of a retreating army, never daunted him, and when there was least encouragement for activity, his zeal and patriotism displayed their highest energy. With feelings as ardent in private as in j)ublic life, he took not from his country's service one hour for domestic use, though his unpro- tected family were fugitives before a victorious enemy whose ravages struck dismay wherever they moved amid a helpless people. It was immediately at the close of this campaign that Washington recommended Congress to confer upon Reed the command of the cavalry in the continental army. It was an honourable tribute to his services, and showed the high sense which Washington entertained of his character as a soldier, and of his zealous fidelity to their common cause. The public sentiment was expressed in the vote of Congress, by which the late adjutant-general was elected a brigadier, and a special power of appointment being given to Washington, he was enabled to accomplish his wish of placing General Reed in command of the cavblry. A MISUNDERSTANDING. 76 It is a fact honourable to both parties, and especially to the magnanimity of Washington, that at the very time he was applauding the services of General Reed, and not only recommending him to Congress, but himself promptly con- ferring a distinguished command in the army, their private friendship, v.'hich had been marked with so much of mutual esteem and confidential intimacy, was interrupted by a painful misunderstanding. There is something both in the conduct of the parties during this temporary and accidental alienation, and in their reconciliation, so finely illustrative of the lofty spirit of the heroic age of our American annals, that it may well be referred to as giv- ing to later times a salutary lesson. The circumstances were briefly these : during the retreat through the Jerseys, Reed wrote to General Charles Lee, with whom he was on familiar terms, lamenting the loss of the garrison at Fort Washington, and referring to the suspense in which, on that occasion, the mind of the commander-in-chief had been held by the conflicting opinions in his council. Lee's answer was full of characteristic extravagance of language, denouncing what he called '< the curse of military indecision — that fatal indecision of mind, •which is a greater disqualification than stupidity or cow- ardice." This letter reached head-quarters while the adjutant-general was absent on his mission to the Jer- sey legislature, and, with the thought that it was offi- cial and not private, was opened and read by Washington, who, conjecturing that it must be the echo of some unfriendly expression on the part of one whom he had believed to be one of his nearest friends, was deeply wounded. The matchless mastery over his feelings, which crowned Washington's character with such placid dignity, was not, however, disturbed, and his sense of wrong was simply shown by inclosing Lee's letter >n a nolc to General Reed, in which the familiar and 76 J o s i: P H R E E D. affectionate cordiality of his former and frequent cor- respondence was changed to cold and formal courtesy. Distressed as Reed was at thus finding himself the victim of false appearances, and Washington's cherished friendship for him forfeited by a misapprehension, he did not lose his self-control, but calmly, resolved to reserve himself for the means of a simple and manly explana- tion, by obtaining his own letter to Lee, and by placing it before Washington's eyes, to convince him that, natural as was his conjecture, it was a mistaken one. This was unhappily frustrated by Lee's capture, and the multiplied movements of the army at the close of the campaign al- lowed neither time nor opportunity for mere personal cares. Now, what is noticeable and worthy of all imita- tion is that this private estrangement of the two friends did not in the smallest measure effect their official rela- tions : it cannot be discovered that it was allowed by either of them to injure or even embarrass the public service. At no time did Reed render to Washington more active and untiring support and co-operation — never did he counsel or labour more earnestly to retrieve the for- tunes of Washington's most arduous campaign. At no time did Washington place more unreserved confidence in Reed's public zeal and patriotism, and when the cam- paign of 1776 had been brought to its triumphant close, it was, while the occasion of his private dissatisfaction re- mained yet unexplained, that Washington paid to Reed's military character and services the high tribute of raising him to one of the most responsible and honourable stations in the army. Such was Washington's magnanimity — such was the heroic elevation of his sense of public duty, beyond the reach of the common passions and frailties ol humanity! Having been disappointed in obtaining the letter to Lee, General Reed sought the only means of explanation left, by frankly stating to Washington the real charactei REFUSAL OF OFFICE. 77 of the expressions he had used. This explanation was welcomed with the same candour with which it was given, and Washington hastened to express the gratification which he felt iu finding himself relieved from the painful influ- ence of his misapprehension. All doubt and suspicion was dispelled, and they were friends again as of old, with all the affection and cordiality and confidence of their well-proved friendship restored for ever. It is a curious and striking illustration of revolutionary times — their influence on the currents of men's lives, and the strange blending of civil and military occupations, that within the short space of about two months, Reed was elected a brigadier, and appointed by Washington gene- ral of cavalry, and also unanimously chosen, by the Ex- ecutive council of Pennsylvania, Chief Justice of that state. His unpremeditated soldier's life had won for him a sol- dier's honours, and his purposed professional career had secured such confidence as to place the highest judicial Dffice in his state at his disposal. The lust for office or rank appears not to have been an element in General Reed's public career, and it may per- haps be regarded as an example of primitive American republicanism, that he declined the several appointments just mentioned. In declining the military appointments, it was not his intention to separate himself from military service, which he knew that his intimate relations with Washington would always enable him to find as a volun- teer. He accordingly joined the army again, at the first news of the approach of the British army before the battle of Brandy wine. The plan of this work being not so much to give a biographical detail of the services of the gene- rals of the Revolution, as to pourtray their characters and illustrate their lives, it will be enough to say, that during the campaign of 1777, General Reed's services displayed that same active intrepidity — the unwearied passion for liiitary enterprise and adventure, which had attracled 7* 7S JOSEPHREED. Washington's admiration in the campaign of 177b', and caused him to select Reed for the command of the cavalry. Wherever we follow him in the military memorials of that campaign, we find him at one time rescuing his family at the approach of the British advance guard, who were in possession of his house on the Schuylkill within fifteen minutes after he had quitted it ; then rallying a small party with which he returned and carried off some pri- soners ; we find him again charged with the duty of re- connoitering with a party of Pulaski's horsemen, before the battle of Germantown, or with Lee's dragoons, to find plans of relief to the forts on the Delaw^are. His love of a soldier's life appears to have gone on increasing with his continuance of service, and perhaps with some con- sciousness of military talent. He appears too to have been actuated by a zeal to change, as far as possible, the defensive character of the American operations ; and now, as in the previous year, he is the advocate of offensive movements, suggesting or supporting plans of attack. When, at the battle of Germantown, the halt took place in consequence of Musgrave's regiment throwing itself into Chew's house, and the military scruple was suggested, that a fort in the enemy's possession must not be left in their rear, it is upon Reed's lips that an historian has placed the exclamation, uttered in the council of war — " What ! call this a fort, and lose the happy moment !" The same earnestness for active operations of attack, and the fertility of invention of military plans, are shown in the remarkable letter addressed to Washington, in an- ticipation of the army going into winter-quarters after the campaign of 1777. The prospect of attacking the British army within their intrenchments in Philadelphia had been abandoned, but General Reed, remembering how the suc- cesses at Trenton and Princeton had turned the tide of war a twelvemonth before, was hopeful enough to believe that the British garrison in New York mig-ht be surprised, PLAN OF AN ATTACK ON NEW YORK. 79 and that city recovered, together with the capture of valuable military stores there. Having matured this idea in his own mind, he submitted to Washington an elabo- rate plan for a forced march and attack on New York, ac- companied with an amount of military argument and practical detail which shows how deeply his mind had become interested in the science of war, and how familiar with its business. In anticipation of the objection that the British troops would move from Philadelphia to the sup- port of the garrison in New York, he added, << With fifty horsemen and one hundred foot, I will undertake, by the destruction of bridges and the felling of trees, to make the march through New Jersey, at this season, a three weeks' journey for them." The plan was warmly supported by Greene, and some of the most energetic in Washington's council, but it was not thought advisable to attempt it. It would be idle, indeed, now to speculate on what might have been its success, but one cannot forbear thinking how it might have been the means of sparing the miseries of the cantonment at the Valley Forge, and snatching from the enemy a city which remained in their occupation till the close of the war. Sharing as General Reed did in the most important operations of the campaign of 1777, his time was divided between the duties of camp and Congress, into which he had been elected some time before. A letter from Wash- ington called him to head-quarters, to consult on the sub- ject of winter-quarters : his attendance for this purpose gave him an unlooked-for opportunity of taking part in the last engagement of the campaign, when the British army came out in full force, and the skirmish at White- marsh took place. General Reed was there without any command, being on a visit at head-quarters during an absence from Congress. While observing, at Washing- ton's desire, the movements of the enemy on one pari of Uie ground, a body of Pennsylvania militia was driven in 80 J O S E P H R E E D. by a superior force. Rallying a party of the scattereu troops, Reed led them on a^ain, but at a second fire they broke and retreated, leaving him on the ground entangled by the fall of his horse, which had been shot under him. That gallant Delaware officer, Allen McLane, seeing his fall, and a party of the enemy advancing to bayonet him, ordered another charge, and at the same instant a single Maryland trooper galloped forward, and extricating General Heed, mounting him on his horse, effected his rescue. During the sad winter of the Valley Forge encamp- ment. General Reed blended his congressional and mili- tary services by his presence at camp as a member of the committee sent there at Washington's solicitation ; and it is characteristic that he found his duties in that wretched cantonment, with his former companions in arms, rather than on the floor of Congress. It was at that time one of his cares to devise some means of checking the atrocious system of irregular predatory warfare, which, conducted by refugee ofRcers, and stimulated by Tories in Philadel- phia, was spreading desolation and misery in the neigh- bourhood of the city. "If troops can be raised," said he, " for the special service of covering the country thus exposed, though I have given over all thoughts of pro- ceeding further in the military line, I would, for so de- sirable an end, accept any post in which I could be useful." Thoujih General Reed's services had for some time been only as a volunteer, and blended wuth his congres- sional functions, his attachment to the army was too strong for him to separate himself from its fortunes, until having accompanied Washington to the battle of Mon- mouth, he witnessed on that field the close of that part of the war of the Revolution which belongs to the Northern and Middle States. Having had some share in the four campaigns of 1775, 1776, 1777, and 1778, be closed « INCORRUPTIBLE I N T K G R I T Y. 8l military career, which had been extended far beyond his original intention, when he unexpectedly changed a citi- zen into a soldier's life. He was recalled to civic life, by being elected President of the state of Pennsylvania. It was just at the time that General Reed's military career closed, that he gave to his country the undying fame of an American patriot's incorruptible integrity. It was on the day before he left Philadelj)liia for the battle- field of Monmouth that he was approached by the corrupt offer of the l^ritish commissioner — ten thousand pounds sterling, and any office in the colonies in the king's gift. The vast temptation came in the insidious form of a pro- posed remuneration for influence and services to be em- ployed in reconciling the two countries — it came to a man, who, during some of the best years of his life had thrown aside his means of peaceful livelihood for the ser- vice of his country — it came to an impoverished soldier, with domestic claims upon him, which perhaps there might, in the future, be nought but poverty to provide for. The temptation was rei)ulsfd as prom})t]y and decidedly as it had come insidiously, when he answered — «' I am NOT WORTH PURCHASING, BUT SUCH AS I AM, THE KiNG OF Great Britain is not rich enough to do it." The an- swer was made with all the simplicity of a soldier's speech, and it will live for ever with the story of the American Re- volution. It gives to a page of our country's annals a glory which makes the sj)len(li(l contrast to that other page which is black with the record of Arnold's perfidy. The former tells us of a temptation that came of a sudden and insidiously, and how the instinctive innocence of a true man's purity was proof against it : the latter tells how the traitor was his own tempter — the architect of his own treason — the deliberate contriver of the iniquity which \as assigned his name to desperate infamy. When General Reed was withdrawn from militarv issociation with Washington and the generals of the F 82 J O S E P H R E E D. Revoiu'ion, by being elevated to the chief magistracy of Pennsylvania, his former companions in arms took fresh hope and confidence from the belief that he would have increased power of giving strength to the common cause, and they continued to look to him as one whose autho- rity would be devoted to the vigorous prosecution of the war. It does not belong to this essay to treat of Presi- dent Reed's administration, further than to say that in the cabinet as in the fiekl he was the advocate of an active and efficient policy, of vigorous government, and of strict and equal justice. He had to encounter the opposition of open party, of foction, and far more malevolent than all, the unrelenting malice of disappointed toryism ; but he went fearless and straightforward on his path of duty, with the avowal of this indomitable resolution : — '< While there is a British soldier left in arms in these United States, not all the efforts of party, secret or open, poverty or danger, shall induce me to relinquish the sta- tion in which public confidence has placed me, and in which I can best oppose the common enemy. When these dangers are passed away, I care not how soon I fall into the rank of a private citizen, a station better suited to mytalents and inclination." The confidence of the people, on which President Reed relied, never forsook him, and having been twice re-elected, his administration closed in the same month in which the surrender of the British army at Yorktown really ended the war of the Revolu- tion. It was then that private Hfe was welcome to General Reed. It may be added, that at one period of his administra- tion he appears gladly to have availed himself of an occa- sion to renew his military services in connection with his official station. «' Your intention," wrote Washington to him, " of leading your militia, in case they can be brought into the field, is a circumstance honourable to yourself and flattering to me. The example alone would ha^e H I S D E A T H. 83 Us weight ; but, seconded by your knowledge of disci- pline, abilities, activity and bravery, it cannot fail of happy effects. Men are influenced greatly by the conduct of their superiors, and particularly so, when they have their confidence and affections." President Reed once more resumed a soldier's duties, when he took the field in com- mand of the new levies, intended to co-operate in a move- ment against New York, and remained at the camp, which he formed at Trenton, until Washington, finding himself obliged to relinquish the proposed attack, recommended that the Pennsylvania troops return to their homes. A few months before his death. General Reed was again called to public life, by being elected to Congress, but his health was fast failing. Ten years of public service — offi- cial cares and labours — the manifold anxieties of troublous times — and superadded to all these, grief of the deepest and most sacred kind, had been doing their irreparable work upon him, and an early death completed a career of patriotic self-sacrifice — a life of public virtue founded on the only sure basis, private Christian morality. He died on the 5th of March, 1785, at the age of forty-three years. BRIGADIER-GENERAL JOHN GREATON. John Greaton, of Massachusetts, commanded one of the regiments despatched to Canada under General Thompson, in April, 1776. He was constantly but not conspicuously engaged during the war. On the 7th of January, 1783, he was appointed a brigadier-general, and he remained with the army until it was discharged. BRIGADIER-GENERAL DANIEL MORGAN. In few things was the war of American independence more distinguished than in the variety of talent and of character manifested by those who contributed chiefly to its success. In its civil aspect it was promoted by the power of refined and untutored eloquence, of deep and accurate learning, and of native sagacity, which knew little of human lore ; and its military sages were alike only in their steady devotion to the cause of their country. The utmost attainments of European science often met in the council of war witli the rude soldier of America, who had been taught by no masters save his own brave heart, and the scenes of a life in the wilderness. Among the boldest and most successful of the officers whom America may claim as peculiarly her own, was General Daniel Morgan. He was born of Welch parent- age, in New Jersey, in the year 1736. We know but little of his early life. His family was of the middling class, by no means so poor as has been represented by most of his biographers, and it had an interest in some lands in Virginia, to attend to which he first visited that colony, when about seventeen years of age. With a fine physical constitution, and a mind full of buoyancy and enterprise, being pleased with the country, he determined to remain there ; and investing his stock of money in a pair of horses and a wagon, entered upon some business in which there was reason for supposing he could make them profitable, near the town of Winchester. He continued here many years in the pursuits in which he first engaged, excel- lently fitted to strengthen the bodily powers arid to in- crease such a love for excitement and h?;5ard as he is known to have possessed in after life. 84 IE}K[l(E»nstancy. After receiving four hundred and fifty strokes he fainted from sufiering and loss of blood, and the remainder of the sentence was remitted. Three days afterwards the officer who bad been the occa- sion of this barbarity became convinced of his injustice, »nd seeking Morgan in the camp hospital, he implored Vol. II. 8 86 D A N I i; L, M O R n A N. his forgiveness. Thus the brave woodsman was rendered unfit for duly, and was spared tlie danger and the disgrace of IJraddock's baltle-fiehl.* Not long after his return from this unhappy campaign, Morgan was appointed an ensign in the colonial service. His merit had become apparent to the government of his colony, and he had already gained the friendship of Wash- ington, which afterwards availed him on many trying oc- casions. His known courage and activity caused him to be em])loyed in services from which a more timid soul would have shrunk with alarm. Accompanied by two soldiers he was employed in carrying despatches to a fort on one of the dangerous frontiers of Virginia. While in cautious progress through the forest, suddenly the discharge of rifles was heard, and his two companions fell dead by his siile, and he himself received the only severe wound that he ever had during his whole military career: a rille ball entered the back of his neck, and shattering his jaw passed out through his left cheek. Though he believed himself mortally vvounded his i)resenoe of mind did not fail. Leaning forward on his saddle he grasped the mane of his horse, and pnvssing his sj)urs into his side he darted for- ward at fidl speetl towards the fort. A single Indian fol- lowed him, eager lor his scalp, and Morgan in after years often spoke of the aj)peaTauce of this savage, who ran with his mouth o]k'u and ids tomahawk raised to strike the fatal blow, liut finding his pursuit vain, the savage threw the tomahawk with all his force, hoping it would reach the soldier ; but it fell short ; the horse with his bleeding rider gained the fort. Morgan was taken from the saddle per- fectly insensible, but proper treatment in six months en- tirely restored him. • The incident hero related must have occurred at some point between Mill's Creek and Fort Duquesnc. A tradition, not worthy of credit, points out the tree to whidi Morgan was bound, near Wytheville in ono of the southern counties of Virginia. iSeo Howe's Historical Collection* of Virginia, p. 616. PUGILISTIC COMBATS. 87 From this time until the commencement of the revolu- tionary war he remained in Frederick county, employed in his former occupation. In this interval tradition tells us much of his fondness for rude sports, and for the excite- ment of the gaming table. Pugilistic encounters were his y a rapid ni;irch, Ik; ^av(; orders for a charge, liefore his first line wasjx-rfcclly (brmi;d, he placed himself at its head iuid in person riislie(l to the onset. (Jolonel I'ickctns ordered his nii;n not to fire uniil tlnir adversaries were within fifty yards, and their fir(.' was delivered with great steadiness and with sev(;r(i elltjct. iJut so impetii- ous was the British charge th;it the militia gave way, and falling biick attempted to form oii the fhinks of the second litu;. At the head of his legion and fusileers, Tarleton pressed upon the regulars and riflemen, and notwithstanding their stern resistance they were borne down by numbe-rs, and forced to yield their ground. The iirilish regarded their victory as secured, and for a time at least the hearts of the repiddicans failed. Hut Morgan was everywhere encou- raging his men by his voice and presence. At this mo- ment, when their very success had caused some confusion among the fusileers, Washington at the head of his dra- goorjs jnade a furious charge, and dashing in among them overthrew them in a moment. His horses pass(;d over the British infantry like a storm, and the swords of his men 96 DANIEL MORGA]S. hewed them down with resistless sway. In this happy crisis Howard succeeded in restoring the continentals to order, and Pickens rallied the militia and brought them again into line. Morgan gave the word to advance, and with presented bayonets the compact line bore down upon the royalists. Struck wil:h astonishment at finding them- selves thus assaulted, by men whom just before they looked upon as dcfeafed, the English troops wavered and then broke in disorder before the i^harge. In vain their officers endeavoured to rally them for a renewed stand. The spirits of the patriots were roused, and pressing forward with their bayonets they carried every thing before them. Infantry and cavalry were alike broken by their violence. Nearly two hundred of Tarleton's horse retreated in dis- may from the field, riding over their comrades and involv- ing them in confusion beyond remedy. The Americans gained the two field-pieces, and Colonel Howard having come up with a large body of infantry and summoned them to surrender, they laid down their arms on the field. The rout of the British was now complete : a more signal victory had never been achieved. Washington and his horse followed the flying foe during several hours, and Tarleton himself narrowly escaped falling into the hands of his determined pursuer. Such was the brilliant battle of the Cowpens, and beyond doubt the success of the Americans must be largely attri- buted to the prudent arrangement of General Morgan, and to the presence of his own brave spirit which he had suc- ceeded in infusing into his men. To form some idea of the importance of this victory, we must recall the loss of the enemy and the gain of the republicans. The British lost ten officers and more than one hundred privates killed, two hundred men wounded, twenty-nine officers and above five hundred privates prisoners. The Ameri- cans captured two field-pieces, two standards, eight hun- dred muskets, thirty-five baggage-wagons, and more than HIS RETREAT, 97 one hundred cavalry horses ; and they lost but twelve men killed and sixty wounded. But great as was the elTect of this battle in restoring the confidence of the Americans, it was hardly more import- ant to the future fame of Morgan than his subsequent re- treat. When Cornwallis learned of the total defeat of his favourite Tarleton, and of the destruction of his corps, he was deeply mortified, but instead of yielding to despondency he resolved to pursue the victor and wrest the fruits of triumph from his hands. Leaving behind him heavy baggage and every thing that could impede his progress, he pressed on, hoping to overtake his enemy and crush him at a blow ere he could cross the Catawba river. But the sagacious America^ had anticipated his movements and prepared to counteract his design. Send- ing his prisoners on before under a strong guard of militia, he manoeuvred in the rear with his regulars and riflemen whom he knew he could at any time push to a rapid march. Thus the vanguard and prisoners crossed the Catawba on the 29th of January, and Morgan still retreat- ing before Cornwallis, passed the river in safety on the evening of the same day. Hardly had he crossed, before the English army appeared on the other side, but during the night a tremendous fall of rain took place and so swelled the river that a passage became impracticable. Thus nature herself seemed to come to the aid of liberty; nor was this the only occasion in which she interposed in behalf of the patriot army. General Greene had feared for Morgan's safety, and believing that his own presence m this division of the army would contribute to its suc- cess in the retreat yet before it, he left the main body at Hick's Creek under General Huger, directing him to re- tire as rapidly as possible and form a junction with Mor- gan's division at Guilford Court-house in North Carolina. When Greene reached the camp of his subordinate on the 31st of January, the two generals immediately entere ' Vol. TI. 9 G 98 DANIEL M OR G AN. into con.iultation as to the best route for tneir continued retreat. Morgan thought a road over the mountains the most eligible, as he believed his men accustomed to such localities, and he knew the roughness of the way would oppose many obstacles to a pursuing army. But Greene preferred the lower route, and when Morgan urged his wishes and declared that if the mountain road were not taken he would not be answerable for the consequences, Greene replied, " Neither will you be answerable, for I shall take the measure upon myself." Thus the dispute was ended and the march commenced. Cornwallis marched rapidly up the Catawba river to cross at McGowan's ford. Had a sufficient force, even of resolute militia, opposed him on the northern bank, it is not probable that his passage would have been effected without severe loss. But the Americans had unhappily taken post too far from the bank. A small number only disputed the point, and the British army forded in safety, though the water was generally up to the middle of their bodies. The American General Davidson was killed in the skirmish and the militia raj)i(lly retreated. Thus Greene was again in danger, and it seems that had he taken the mountain route recommended by Morgan, he might have been overwhelmed by his vigilant enemy. Reaching the banks of the Yadkin, he crossed on the 2d and 3d of February. The passage was made partly in flats and partly by fording, and all the boats were secured on the northern side. Cornwallis was so close on his rear that the light troops of both armies skirmished with each other, and the Virginia riflemen did good service. But in the night rain fell in torrents and the waters of the Yadkin rose suddenly to a height which rendered fording impossible. Again the British general was foiled. The American army was saved from a dangerous encounter, and the patriots, not without reason, ascribed their deliver- ance to divine intervention. GENERAL GREENE's LETTER. 99 At Guilford Court-house, the two divisions of the array united, and a few days were allowed for refreshment after the late rapid marching. General Morgan here resigned his command and suggested Colonel Otho Williams as his su;ctssor, who was immediately appointed by Greene. It has been thought by many that Morgan's resignation was caused by his dispute with his superior, but we have the best reason to believe that this was not the case. ITiough firm and proud, he was generous and intelligent, and he could not have failed to perceive that Greene's measures had been prudent, and that the course he himself had preferred would have been highly dangerous. We have a much more satisfactory explanation of his wish for retirement. His old malady, the rheumatism, had returned upon him, and aggravated by his late exposure it had ren- dered him incapable of exertion. After crossing the Yadkin, it became so violent that he was unable to retain his command, and had he remained with the army it would have been only in the character of an invalid Under these circumstances it cannot be surprising that he should have sought repose at his home in Virginia. To prove that he remained on terms of friendly intercourse with General Greene, we have a letter from the latter to him, directed to Frederick county, and as it is highly characteristic of both officers, it shall here be inserted. It is dated " August 26, 1781. "Dear Morgan — Your letter of 24th of June arrived safe at head-quarters ; and your compliments to Williams, Washington, and Lee, have been properly distributed. Nothing would have given me greater pleasure than to have had you with me. The people of this country adore you. Had you been with me a few weeks past you could have had it in your power to give the world the pleasure of reading a second Cowpens affair .... the expedition 100 DANIEL MORGAN. ought to have realized us six hundred men, and the chances were more than fifty times as great in our favour as they were at Tarleton's defeat. Great generals are scarce : there are few Morgans to be found. The ladies loast you " No American of that day could have been insensible to the merit of the hero of the Cowpens. When a full report of the victory was made to Congress, it passed a vote of thanks to Morgan and his officers, and directed that a gold medal should be prepared for him, with a suitable device and inscription expressive of their sense of his value. The legislature of Virginia voted him a horse, and we have yet among our records the letter of Governor Nelson to Morgan informing him of this vote and urging him to select the best horse he could procure, as their design was to pay him a substantial compliment. We have reason to believe that he needed at this time such aid as the gratitude of his country could bestow. His farm had been neglected during his absence, and heavy taxes had done much to drink up his profits. His own health was so impaired that he could not give personal attention to his interests, and the fearful depreciation in the colonial paper money left him without resource from this means of supplying his wants. It is at this time that we find him addressing a letter to Governor JeflTerson of Virginia, in which, with touching and manly simplicity, ho sets forth his difficulties. It is dated from Frederick county, March 13, 1781. He begins by stating that he had learned that some officers had received par value for the paper money they held, and asks whether a similar indulgence may be extended to him. He speaks of his necessities with perfect freedom but without affectation. *< My expenses in the army and taxes at home have almost reduced me to poverty, and I fear will soon complete it '' morgan's letter to JEFFERSON. lOJ He declares that he had much difficulty in obtaining de' eflt clothes, and that this prevented him from appearing in person at the seat of government. His feeble health is also mentioned, but he says that it was then improving, and he hoped would soon be entirely restored. Yet amid 80 many causes of depression, we find an unconquerable spirit of patriotism still in full exercise and casting its light even over his darkest hours. His letter concludes with some allusions to the army, and to << his old friend Arnold," with whom he had suffered in the Canada cam- paign, but who had now become a traitor to his country ; and the following closing words may show how deeply Morgan deplored the necessity which kept him from the field. "Nothing this side of heaven would give me greater happiness than to be able to lend my aid at this critical juncture."* It is to such a spirit that we owe our independence. A spirit which, amid sickness, poverty and nakedness, longed with insatiate desire for the very sei"vice which had been the occasion of its misfortunes. England contended in vain against a country in whose behalf such men were enlisted. Morgan's industry and prudence soon retrieved his domestic affairs from the confusion in which they were involved, but his country could not yet dispense with his services. When Cornwallis advanced into Virginia, he again joined the republican army, and General Lafay- ette bestowed upon him the command of the cavalry in his little force. He retired to his country-seat again after the siege of Yorktown, which virtually ended the revolu- tionary war. His place was called " Saratoga," from the name of the spot where some of his greenest laurels had been gathered. It was not far from the town of Win- • Tlie original letter has been examined by the writer, in the office of the secretary of state in Richmond, Virginia. It is believed that it haa never appeared in print. The handwriting is irregular but Hgibhi, and ibe few errors in orlhography are probably accidental. q* 102 DANIEL MORGAN. Chester. Here his time was quietly spent in agricultural pursuits and in the care of his family. While young he had neglected the cultivation of his mind, but in middle life it is certain that he read much and became thoroughly acquainted with such history as might be gained from works in his own language. His letters at this time are well written, and give evidence of a strong and keen mind which neglected trifles and seized at once upon the marked points of his subject. In 1791, when the war against the western Indians was determined on, Washington was anxious that Morgan should have command of the army to proceed against them : but the pretensions of General St. Clair were so well sustained that the post was assigned to him. The unfortunate result is too well known. St. Clair was de- feated with immense loss. Had Morgan been in com- mand, it may be that the errors which caused the dis- aster would have been avoided, though these errors were not all on the part of the unfortunate commander. In 1794 the «' whiskey insurrection" of Pennsylvania took place, and an armed force w-as sent under Morgan to suppress it. No actual fighting occurred ; but the duty of quelling the insurgents was successfully performed. On returning to Frederick he became a candidate to re- present his district in Congress, and after a brief canvass was duly elected. He served two sessions, and though we know little of his career as a law-maker, we may pre- sume that his excellent sense and his practical knowledge made him valuable in his sphere. Feeble htalth com- pelled him to retire. He removed to Winchester, and after two years of constantly growing debility, he died on the 6th day of July, 1802. In one of the grave-yards of that town rest the mortal remains of this brave soldier of the Revolution. His monument is a simple slab of marble placed horizontally on a mound raised a few feet from the earth. The inscription deserves a record. HIS CHARACTER 103 Major-General Daniel Morgan Departed this Life, July the &th, 1802, In the Sixty-seventh Year of his Jige. Palriotism and Valour were the Prominent Features in his Character^ And the Honourable Service He rendered to his Country, during the Revolutionary War^ Covered him with Glory, ^nd will remain, in the Hearts of his Countrymen, A Perpetual Monument to his Memory. The widow of General Morgan survived him nearly fourteen years. Soon after his death, she removed to Pittsburgh in Pennsylvania, where her oldest daughter re- sided. He left two daughters, both of whom married officers of the Revolution ; the eldest married General Presley Neville of Pittsburgh, and the younger Major Heard of New Jersey. Among the worthies of our glorious age Daniel Morgan must always claim a dignified rank. As a military man he was surpassed by few of his contemporaries. Though impetuous in his disposition, his cool judgment corrected the ardour of his temperament, and it has been remarked that he never risked a blow which was not successful. One who in modern times has contemplated his career with just admiration calls him "The hero of Quebec, of Saratoga, and the Cowpens : the bravest among the brave, and the Ney of the West." But it is not merely as a sol- dier that he merits our praise. He v.as of a kind and generous disposition, which ever impelled him to serve the needy and unfortunate. In early life, his habits were wild, perhaps vicious ; but as increasing years calmed the heat of youth, he deplored his past excesses, and warned others against them. He was never infected with the spirit of infidelity which so fatally pervaded our military officers during the closing years of the Revolutionary war. He was always a believer in Christianity, and some time })«'fore his death its truths affected him so stronrdy that he 104 DANIEL MORGAN. united himself with the Preshyterian church of Winchester, then under the care of the Rev. Dr. Hill. To this minister he often spoke of the history of his past life, and on one occasion he related occurrences which may be described in the words of him who originally recorded them. <»• People thought that Daniel Morgan never prayed, but tliCV were mistaken. On the night they stormed Quebec, while waiting in the darkness and storm with his men paraded, for the word to advance, he felt unhappy : the enterprise appeared more than perilous : it seemed to him that nothing less than a miracle could bring them off safe from an encounter at such amazing disadvantage. He stepped aside, and kneeling by a munition of war, he most fervently prayed that the Lord (Jod Almighty would be his shield and defence, for nothing but an Almighty arm could protect him. He continued on his knees until the word passed along the line. He fully believed that his safety during that night of })eril was from the interposi- tion of God." And of the battle of Cowpens he said, that after " drawing up his army in three lines on the hill- side : contemplating the scene in the distance, the glitter of the enemy, he trembled for the fate of the day. Going to the woods in the rear, he kneeled and poured out a prayer to God for his army, for himself, and for his coun- try. With relieved sj)irits he r(>turned to the lines, and in his rough manner cheered them foi' the fight. As he passed along they answered him bravely. The terrible carnage that followed decided the victory. In a few moments Tarleton fled." Such was the testimony given by a brave man to the value of that reliance upon a divine Protector which con- stitutes an essential feature in every exalted character. In this respect Daniel Morgan was like the Father of his (country, who in the hour of danger was known to appeal often to the God of battles for aid in defending the cause of weakness and freedom against tyranny and power BRIGADIER-GENERAL FRANCIS MARION. When Louis XIV. of France yielded to the bigotry of S[)irit which had long possessed him, and recalled ihe edict of Nantz, suffering and dismay were immediately spread among the Protestant families of his immense kingdom. They were at once de{)rived of the protection granted to them under the reign of the heroic Henry Quatre, and were exposed to persecution from the papists, who would willingly have seen them exterminated. Ha- rassed even unlo death in their own country, thousands of Huguenots left the shores of France and took refuge in England and America. They fled from their homes when they could no longer worshij) Cjod as their consciences required, and hoped to find in the western continent the freedom which was denied them in the old world. Tht warm climate and generous soil of South Carolina tempted many of these wanderers to her borders ; and the Hug^rs, the Tra])iers, the Ravenels, and Pri61eaus, still found in her bosom, attest the truly noble origin of many of her families. Among the Huguenots who left France in 1685, were Gabriel Marion and Louise, his wife, who, after reaching the shores of South Carolina, retired into the country and purchased a small farm on a creek not far from the city of Charleston. Here, peaceful and contented, they lived for many years. Their oldest son was called Gabriel, after his father. He married Charlotte Cordes, and became the farther of seven children, five sons and two daughters. Francis Marion, whose name has since become so justiv renowned, was the youngest of this family. He was bori at Winyah, near Georgetown, in South Carolina, in 1732 — 105 J 06 K R A N C I S M A R I N. the same year witnessed the birth of George Washington in Virginia. No admirer of either will attempt to compare these two men. Their spheres of action were different, and each in his own sphere was the friend, almost the saviour of his country. If Washington, at the head of the American armies, was always prudent yet always courageous, often successful and finally triumphant, Marion leading his brigade amid the forests and swamps of Ca- rolina, was the man who in a season of gloom and de- spondency restored the fortunes of the south, and prepared the way for her ultimate deliverance from British control. The infancy of the famous partisan promised little of his future distinction. He was so small in body as to excite surprise and serious feais among his relatives, and until his twelfth year he remained feeble in physical constitution. But at this time a change took place. He began to delight in active sports and in* exercise which braced his muscles and increased his strength. Even when in the vigour of manhood he was of small stature, but he gradually ac- quired a body uniting remarkable activity with a hardness and power of endurance possessed by few men of his time. When about fifteen years of age, he yielded to his natural love of enterprise, and went to sea in a small schooner employed in the West India trade. While on the voyage an accident, supposed to have been the stroke of a whale, tore out a plank from the bottom of the vessel, and notwithstanding the exertions of the crew at the pumps, she leaked so rapidly that she foundered im- mediately after her people had pushed from her side in the jolly-boat. So sudden was the disaster that they had not saved a particle either of food or water, and were forced to feed upon a small dog which swam to them from the unfortunate bark just before she sank. Upon the ocean an 1 under a burning sun, they rema jied for six days, uff'ering tortures of famine and thirst which caused the death of four of the party, ere they were relie\ed by a HIS INFANCY AND YOUTH. 107 vessel which at length happily hove in sight. But thougn strong men died the feeble Marion survived, and was re- stored to his country to serve her in the seasons of danger that v/ere approaching. He seems to have felt no longer a wish to follow a life of sea service. For thirteen years he cultivated the soil, and during this time he gained the esteem of all who knew him by his unobtrusive virtues. Few advantages of education were afforded to him, and it is probable that the modest attainments to be gained in a grammar school were the best he enjoyed. Yet this is a fact which we may not deplore. America then needed her statesmen and her soldiers, and she found them ready. The first proved that they possessed learning equal to the crisis, and if the latter knew little of Greek and Latin, or of the abstruse sciences, they proved that they had knowledge much more important ; they knew how to wield the sword, to suffer and to die in the cause of iheir country. Marion remained on his farm until the year 1761, when he was first called to enlist in the armies of his state against a dangerous foe. The Cherokee Indians were numerous and brave. On the frontiers of Carolina they had native settlements, and frequent inroads upon the whites evinced their strength and hostility. In the campaign of 1760, Colonel Montgomery, at the head of nearly two thousand men composed of provincials and British regulars, had attacked their stronghold in a mountain pass near the town of Etchoee, and after a bloody combat had forced the savages to sue for peace. In this campaign, it is probable that Marion took part as a volunteer, though we have no certain evidence either of his presence or of his deeds. But in 1761 the Cherokees again commenced their incursions, and conducted them with so much treachery and violence, that it was adjudged necessary tc strike a blow which should prostrate their 108 FRANCIS MARION. strenpfth, and render them impotent for the future. Twelve hundred regulars under Colonel Grant were soon in the field ; and to these were added a few friendly Indians, and a complete regiment of provincial troops under Colo- nel Middleton. Marion now offered himself as a volun- teer to the governor, and so highly was he alread} esteemed, that his excellency appointed him a lieutenant of the provincial regiment, and gave him a place under the command of the gallant Captain Moultrie. On the 7th of June, the army, consisting of twenty-six hundred Tien, marched from Fort Prince George against the sa- vages. Taught by past experience, the Indians selected the mountain defile near Etchoee, where they had pre- viously made a stand, and they prepared to defend it with greater obstinacy than before. The pass through the mountain was narrow and dangerous ; rugged heights rose abruptly on either side, and forest trees descending even to the path, cast a gloomy shade over the scene, and afforded shelter to the savage enemy. It required a heart of no ordinary firmness to be willing to lead in this attack : but Marion volunteered for the forlorn hope. Already his dauntless courage began to appear, and the foundation was laid for that fame which will endure with the records of America. At the head of thirty men, he advanced up the hill and entered the defile, every part of which was full of danger. Hardly were they within the gorge before a terrible war- whoop was heard, and a sheet of fire from savage rifles illumined the forest. The discharge was most deadly. Twenty-one men fell to the ground ; but Marion was un- hurt. The rapid advance of the next detachment saved the survivors, who fell back and united with their com- panions. The battle now became general ; the regulars remained in order and poured continuous volleys of mus- ketry into the wood ; the provincials resorted to their rifles, and w^ith unerring aim brought down 'he Indians as BURNING OF EICHOEE. 109 they appeared on each side of the pass. The contest was close and bloody ; the regulars at length resorting to the bayonet and driving the savages before them. From eight o'clock until two, the battle continued ; but tht whites achieved a signal victory. One hundred and three natives were slain ere they yielded the ground, and loft a free passage to Grant and his army. The Cherokee town of Etchoee was immediately re- duced to ashes, and the whites then proceeded to burn their wigwams, and lay waste their country. The fields in which the corn was already tasselled and ripening for harvest, were overrun and utterly ruined. Severity may have been necessary in order to break the spirit of the savages ; but we cannot regard such devastation without profound sorrow. On this point Marion presents himself to us in an interesting light, and his own words shall be used to prove that to the courage and the firmness of the soldier, he united the tender feelings of a true philanthro- pist : — " I saw," he says, " everywhere around, the foot- steps of the little Indian children where they had lately played under the shade of this rustling corn. No doubt they had often looked up with joy to the swelling shocks, and gladdened when they thought of their abundant cakes for the coming winter. When we are gone, thought I, they will return, and peeping through the weeds with tearful eyes, will mark the ghastly ruin poured over their homes and happy fields, where they had so often played. *Who did this.'" they will ask their mothers ; < The white peo- ple did it,' the mothers reply ; ' the Christians did it.' "* After this war of devastation, the army returned and was disbanded. They had encountered severe toil and bloody conflict ; but their object was accomplished. The Cherokees were effectually subdued, and even in the sub- sequent war with England they gave the Americans but little annoyance. Marion left his regiment and returned * Marion's leUer in Weems, 25 ; Siinins's Marion, 52. Vol. II. 10 110 FRANCIS MARION. to the lepive of rural life. For some years his pursuits were strictly pacific, and his course was marked by much that was gentle and amiable. His gun was sometimes resorted to for the amusement of an idle hour, and his angling-rod was his companion upon the streams which bordered his plantation. In this interval, those who knew him best, have borne testimony to his mild and unassum- ing character. In 1775 commenced the great struggle between the mother-country and her American colonies which was to result in their independence. In this year we find Marion elected, and returned as a member of the provincial Con- gress of South Carolina from the district of St. John's, Berkeley county. Subjects of high moment were to be considered by this Congress, nor do we find them reluc- tant in the task. They solemnly pledged the people of this state to the principles of the Revolution, and adopt- ing the American Bill of Rights, they recommended that all persons should subscribe an agreement to import no goods, wares or merchandise from England. Nor did they stop here : under their sanction the public armory at Charleston was broken open, and eight hundred mus- kets, two hundred cutlasses, cartouches, flints, , matches, and other military munitions were withdrawn. A party commissioned by the Congress seized upon the public powder at Hobeau ; another party possessed itself of the arms in Cochran's magazine. Committees of safety and correspondence were established through the state, and every preparation was made for the approaching struggle. In these vigorous parliamentary proceedings, it is not to be supposed that Marion remained an idle spectator ; but as the time drew near when blood was actually to flow in conflict, he could no longer bear the mere duties of a lawmaker. He felt that, with his own hand, he must draw the sword in behalf of his country. The Assembly having passed a law for raising two REVOLUTIONARY WAR. Ill regimenl.s of infantry, and four hundred and fifty horse, Marion applied for military duty, and he was immediately appointed a captain in the second regiment under his former superior, Colonel Moultrie. In company with his devoted friend Captain Peter Horry, he set forth on a recruiting excursion, and notwithstanding the want of money and the dangerous character of the service, they soon raised two fine companies of sixty men each. From the beginning of his career Marion was successful in in- spiring his followers with that confidence in their leader which is all-important in the hour of danger. His skill as a drilling officer was conspicuous, and in a short time the raw materials he had collected began to assume a bold and soldier-like aspect, which drew upon them the notice of the superior officers. In the mean time, the enemy was not idle. Lord William Campbell, the English go- vernor, was yet in Charleston, organizing resistance to the provincials ; two British ships lay opposite Sullivan's Island ; Fort Johnson, on another isle in the outlet, was in possession of the king's troops, and many Tories were gathering in various parts of the state to paralyze the ener- gies of the patriots. The first duty in which Marion en- gaged was an attack on Fort Johnson. Colonel Moul- trie led a strong detachment against it, but on gaining the fort they encountered no resistance. The guns had been dismounted ; the garrison withdrawn to the ships ; and thus, a gunner and three men only fell into the hands of the Americans. During some time after this capture, matters affecting Charleston remained undecided. The English governor retired to the fleet, believing that it would be no longer safe to remain among the people he had been sent to rule. Marion was constantly engaged in drilling the men of his regiment, and he was intrusted with several commands, which proved the confidence felt in his ability and faith- fulness. Soon after his appointment as major was con- 112 FRANCIS MARION. ferred, Colonel Moultrie with the second regiment was ordered to Sullivan's island, to build the fort which was afterwards to be the scene of one of the most brilliant actions of the revolutionary war. The account of the defence of this fort more properly belongs to the life of the heroic Moultrie, in which it will be found at length. The bombardment took place on the 20th day of June, 1776, and was a total failure. It is related that five thousand pounds of powder were all the garrison pos- sessed at the commencement of the action. This supply was used with the utmost economy, but at length so nearly was it exhausted that long intervals occurred between the discharges from the fort. The English began to hope for victory, but in this crisis Major Marion proceeded with a small party to the schooner Defence, lying in a creek above them, and obtained a supply which was used until five hundred pounds were received from the city. With this the fire was re-opened, and the British fleet being already almost dismantled hastened to draw off to a place of safety. A well preserved tradition has told us of the effect produced by the last shot fired from the American fort. The gun was aimed by Marion himself, and with his own hand the match was applied. The ball entered the cabin windows of the Bristol, (one of the fifty gun ships,) and killed two young officers who had just retired from the bloody scenes of the gun deck to take refreshment below ; then ranging forward the same messenger of death passed through tlie steerage, striking down three seamen on its way, and finally bursting through the forecastle it fell into the sea. There is little reason to doubt the truth of this event, and it might well be considered as ominous of the fatal power of Marion in his subsequent encounters with the Euglish. The noble defence of Fort Moultrie on Sullivan's island saved Charleston, and secured to South Carolina long ex- emption from the horrors of war. For three years no military movement of much importance occurred. Gene- SIEGE OF SAVANNAH. 113 ral Lincoln was in command of the southern army, and contented himself with watching the motions of Generai Prevost, the British chief, who kept his troops concentrated m or near Savannah. Marion continued with the army, though during this time his active spirit had few opportn- nitic'S for full exercise. But in September, 1779, the French Count D'Estaing, with a large fleet, appeared off Savannah, and summoned the English garrison to sur- render. Had the attack been immediately urged, the cap- ture of the place was almost inevitable, for the defences were so imperfect that resistance would have been mad- ness. But D'Estaing granted the British commander twenty-four hours to consider, and this interval was vigor- ously employed in completing the fortifications and mount- ing cannon. When Marion heard of this imprudent de- lay, he was unable to suppress his amazement. His words have been preserved. " What," he exclaimed, « first allow an enemy to entrench and then fight him ! See the destruction brought upon the British at Bunker Hill — yet our troops there were only militia — raw, half-armed clod- hoppers, and not a mortar, nor carronade, nor even a swivel — but only their ducking guns !" The fears of Marion were more than realized. When the American army, under General Lincoln, joined the French, a combined attack upon the works around Savan- nah was prepared. But the foe was now ready to receive them. Two columns, one of French, the other American, advanced gallantly to the attack. Storms of grape-shot poured upon them as they approached, and after losing nearly half their numbers they were driven back, even from the very foot of the entrenchments. In this contest the Polish hero. Count Pulaski, was slain, and Sergeant Jasper fell, bearing, even to his last and mortal wound, the standard committed to him after the battle at Fort Moultrie, Marion was in the hottest of the fight, but es- caped with)ut injury. JO* H 114 FRANCIS MARION. The disaster of the Americans before the worlcs of Sa- vannah was soon followed by a more signal misfortune. \n February, 1780, a large British armament and military force under the commander in chief, Sir Henry Clinton, invested Charleston and pressed the siege with cautious vigour. Here General Lincoln, with the flower of the southern American army, was surrounded, and after a pro- tracted defence he w^as forced to surrender the city, and at the same time to give up his troops as prisoners of war. It is with pleasure that we find Marion escaping this un- happy fate, and the event which saved him well merits our notice. In Tradd street in Charleston, he had joined a number of friends at a dinner party, and their host, with the mistaken hospitality but too common in those days, had locked his outer doors in order that not one of his guests might be found sober at one o'clock in the morning. But Marion though convivial in his feelings was temperate in his habits, and to avoid the debauch, he raised a window in the second story and sprang out into the street. The fall fractured his ancle, and so severe was the injury that for several months he was not restored to health. Finding him unable to do duty, General Lincoln included him in the order for removing the impotent from the city, and he w^as conveyed to his plantation in St. John's parish. Here he remained until he was sufficiently recovered to resume the saddle. Immediately after the surrender of Charleston, the British commenced that series of sanguinary measures which con- verted the war in the south into something like a strife of extermination. Marauding parties of dragoons under Tarleton, Wemyss, and other partisan officers, scoured the country and spread devastation on every side. Growing crops w^ere destroyed, houses were burned, fences weie torn down, men were hanged or cruelly beaten, w'omen were insulted, and every measure of violence was adopted that w^as deemed necessary to break the spirit of the DEFEAT OF GATES, 115 country. Tht Tories began to triumph, and enticed by a proclamation of Cornwallis, many who had been patriots renounced the cause of their country and accepted pro- tection under the royal standard. This was a season of hea'/y gloom to the lovers of America. Even the brave Horry was downcast, and expressed his despondency to his friend. But Marion assumed a cheerful aspect, and with remarkable precision pointed out the effect of the British measures. He well knew that kindness only would disarm the country, and though his heart bled for the suf- ferings that were daily inflicted, yet he rejoiced in their existence, believing them to be the only means of keeping alive the spirit of resistance to English rule. Had the enemy been capable of a humane and generous policy, they might have conciliated the people and perhaps arrayed them in opposition to freedom : but their cruelties acted like severe medicines, bitter and ungrateful at the time, but afterwards productive of the happiest results. Marion and Horry travelled together to meet the north- ern army under Baron De Kalb. When General Gates joined them and assumed the command, preparations were made for battle, contrary to the advice of the brave De Kalb and to the opinion of Marion, who knew more of the prospect for success than any other man. Again we are compelled to record the overthrow of the patriot army. At Camden the Americans sustained a defeat in some respects more disastrous than any other they ever met, and among their other misfortunes none perhaps was heavier than the death of the hero who had crossed the Atlantic to fiffht their battles. Over the grave of De Kalb, Washington himself was afterwards heard to utter with a sigh these memorable words, " There lies the brave De Kalb ; the generous stranger who came from a distant land to water with his blood the tree of our liberty. Would to God he had lived to share with us its fruits." In contemplating these misfortunes it is at least consoling to reflect that 116 FRANCIS MARION. Marun again escaped death or captivity. He was not m the bittJe, having been sent by General Gates to superin- tend he destruction of boats on the Santee river, by which course the infatuated American hoped to prevent the es- cape of Lord Cornwallis and the English army. All now seemed lost in South Carolina. Charleston was taken and Gates had been totally defeated. Nothing like an organized force opposed the enemy. Their foraging parties swept through the country and insulted the inhabit- ants without hazard. The hopes of the most sanguine patriots seemed about to expire. Darkness and gloom were on every side. It was at this crisis that the true value of Francis Marion began to appear; and if the man deserves more admiration who struggles against the current of ad- versity than he who sails with a prosperous wind, we cannot refuse to admire the course now pursued by the partisan of South Carolina. He obeyed a summons from a few brave men in the neighbourhood of Williamsburg, who after accepting Bri- tish protection had been required by Cornwallis to take up arms against their country. Outraged by this breach of faith, they threw off the fetters they had assumed, and invited Marion to come and lead them in the warfare they intended to wage against the enemy. About the 12th of August, 1780, four days after the defeat of Gates, he joined the little band at Linch's Creek, and immediately commenced drilling them for service. He now held a commission as general from Governor Rutledge of South Carolina, and the command of that part of the state iu which he intended to act was committed to his hands. Not more than thirty horsemen were at first assembled, but after the arrival of their commander the number increased. "Marion's brigade" was formed, and it was soon renowned throughout the country. Tories feared it and patriots heard of its deeds with delight. To join Marion, to lie one of Marion's mt n, was esteemed the highest privilege, to Marion's brigade. 117 which a yo jng man could aspire, who wished to serve liis country. These troopers were nnen admirably adapted to the duty they assumed. Active and hardy in body, they were capable of enduring fatigue and exposure without a murmur; they rode well, and accustomed their horses to the privations they themselves encountered. They used the rifle with unerring skill : swords were at first wanting, but they stripped all the saw-mills of the neighbourhood, and the saws were converted by rude blacksmiths into sabres for the men : and we are informed by a contempo- rary that their rude swords were so efficient that a strong trooper never failed to cut down an adversary at a single blow. With such a force Marion commenced the forest war- fare which was his only hope. It would have been mad- ness to expose himself to a stroke in the open field : the lives of his men were too precious to be hazarded even in equal combat. He took refuge in the swamps and fast nesses known only to himself and his followers, and lying secure when a superior enemy was within a mile of his position, he would sally out in the night or the day, and quick as lightning would strike a blow which never failed to be successful. His enemies were filled with amaze- ment and alarm. No vigilance could guard against his attacks, no persevering efforts could force him to a conflict when the chances of war were against him. At one time he would appear at one point, and after sweeping a troop of Tories before him and securing their munitions, in an incredibly short period, he would strike another point far distant from the first. He succeeded in infusing his own quiet, cautious, but determined spirit into his men, and though many other regiments performed deeds more bril- liant, we know no body of men to whom America is more indebted for her liberty than to the brigade of Francis Marion. Imniediately aftei taking command of his troopers, he lis F R A N C I S M A R I O N. advanced silently upon the s.]uailron of Major Gainey, an English partisan oilioor oi" coiisiiU'rable ro[uitation, and before lus approadi was known {\\c whole party were his prisoners. Kmboldened by this success and by tlie sur- prise it produced, he next attempted a more important scheme. A party of about ninety British soldiers passed ne;\r Nelson's ferry, comlucting at least two hundreil American prisoners to Charleston. These captives were from the ill-fated field of Camden. Marion and his band passed the ferry about an hour afier sunset, and concealing themselves on the other side awaited the approach of the detachment. After crossing, the English sought the first public-house they could find, in which to pass the night, and dreaming not of danger, they spent many hours in drinking and merriment, and finally fell asleep in a spacious arbour in front of the house, leaving drowsy sentinels to guard their slumbers. In a moment Marion was upon ti»em, the sentinels were stricken down and several of the dKachment uere slain before they knew who were their enemies. Starting from sleep they found tliemselves in- vaded by bold troopers, who dashed among them with their horses and with loud shouts calleil them to surrender. The English asked for quarter, and not until they were disarmed and their prisoners were all released did they discover how insignificant was the enemy who hail van- quished them. This exploit was soon followed by otliers of an equally daring character. Hearing that a party of Tories under Captain Burfitld were assembling on the Pedee river, the American put his men in motion, and after a rapid ride of forty miles came upon the enemy at three o'clock in the morning. So startling was the assault, that the Tories broke and dispersed widiout firing a single shot ! Of forty-nine composing their number, thirty were either killed or fell into the hands of the patriots. From these two parties, Marion obtained a welcome supply of ammnni- D A n I N o f: X P L O I T s. 119 tion, cartoiich-hoxfts, muskets and horses, which »,'nabK'(l bun materially to increase his own strength. The English ofhcers seem to have been great y aston- ished at their defeats. While the whole country was ap- parently in their power, tliey found an American partisan leading his troops through the very heart of the province, dealing rapid and disabling blows upon his enemies, alarm- ing the Tories and keeping alive the spirit of resistance. They determined to follow him with an overwhelming force, and to crush him at once, but they found his prudence equal to his courage. With more than two hun- dred British regulars advancing in front and aboiit five hundred Tories in his rear, Marion commenced a retreat which was c/;nducted with consummate skill and success. His practice was to dismiss many of his men Uj their houses, receiving from each his word of honour that he would return when summoned, and to the credit of these suffering patriots be it known that tlieir promises in this respect were never violated. At the head of a small band, generally of about sixty men, Marion then plunged into the swainj;s, and concealing each trace of his passage, he could lie concealed until the immediate danger was over. The privation he encountered in this life has been de- scribed to us by eye-witnesses, and it may be well here to give the words of Judge James, who when a boy of six- teen years of age dined with Marion in one of his forest saloons: — "The dinner was set before the company by the general's servant, Oscar, partly on a pine log and partly on the ground. It consisted of lean beef without salt, and sweet potatoes. The author had left a small pot of boiled hominy in his camp and requested leave of his host to send for it, and the proposal was gladly acquiesced in. The hominy had salt in it, and proved, tliough eaten out of the pot, a most acceptable repa.st We had notliing to drink but bad water, and all the company aj)' peeured to be rather grave." 120 FRANCIS MARION. That the comi)any should be grave under such circum- stances can hardly be surprising, but under a leader like Marion they were not allowed long to indulge in despond- ency. Finding that the enemy liad abandoned the pur- suit, he again turned his troops south, and leaving North Carolina advanced cautiously into his own province. Ma- jor Wemyss, who had commanded the British regulars, had retired to Georgetown, but a large body of Tories had taken post at Shepherd's Ferry on the Black Mingo river. Against this traitor class of foes Marion was always sig- nally active, for he well knew their influence in depressing the spirit of liberty in the country. About a mile below Shep- herd's Ferry, a long bridge of planks crossed the Black Mingo, and this was the only avenue open to Marion. As his troopers entered upon the bridge, the trampling of their horses was so loud as to arouse the enemy, and immedi- ately an alarm gun was heard from their camp. No time was now to be lost : Marion gave the word to charge, and the whole troop passed the bridge at a sweeping gallop. The Tories were there double in number, and they had drawn up their body on a piece of rising ground near the ferry. A heavy fire received the patriots as they advanced, and for a time tlaeir leading corps faltered, but when the whole number came into action their onset was irresisti- ble. After losing their commander, the Tories left their ranks and tied in the utmost disorder. Nearly two-tiiirds of their number were either killed or wounded, and many were made prisoners. Had they not been alarmed by the noise at the bridge, it is probable they would all have fallen into the hands of the Americans. It is said that after this conflict Marion never crossed a bridge at night, with- out spreading blankets upon it to deaden the sound. He generally preferred to cross at a ford, where there would be no risk of giving a premature alarm. After giving to his men a season of rest and recreation, among the people of the state who were friendly to their CORN WAL LIS AND MARION. 121 cause, he called them again to his side and prepared for active proceedings. His vigilant scouts informed him that Colonel Tyncs was raising a body of Tories at Tarcote in the forks of Black River, and that he had brought from Charleston a full supply of saddles and bridles, blankets, pistols and broad-swords, powder and ball for his new levies. These articles were precisely what Marion's men wanted, and they were stimulated to unwonted energy by the hope of accomplishing two objects — the defeat of the Tories and the seizure of their munitions. Tynes sus- pected no danger and used but little precaution. At mid- night Marion and his troops approached and found their enerny. Some were asleep, some were lying on the ground in careless conversation, many were at cards, and the very words they uttered were heard by the Americans as they advanced. Instantly the attack was made, and the Tories took to flight, and all who escaped concealed themselves in the swamps bordering on the Black River. Few were killed, but Colonel Tynes and many of his men, together with all the military wealth he had brought out of Charleston, fell into the hands of the victors. Marion did not lose a single man. In this succession of gallant deeds, the American proved his ability and thoroughly established his reputa- ETON BAFFLED. 123 they prepared their rifles for the English dragoons. Had Tarleton attempted to carry their position, he would, in the language of Jufige James, "have exposed his force to such sharp-shfxjting as he had not yet experienced, and that in a place where he could not have acted wiih either his artillerj' or cavalry." But he prudently turned back^ he has himself informed us that his retreat was caused by an order brought by express from Cornwallis ; but a well- founded suspicion may be indulged, that he had painfj] doubts as to the results of a conflict under these circum- stances. At the risk of violating tlie rules of good taste, we will give his own words, stated to have been uttered on reaching the borders of Ox Swamp. " Come, boys," he said, " let us go back. We will soon find the game cock;* but as for this swamp fox the devil himself could not catch him." The devil would certainly have been a very appropriate comrade for Colonel Tarleton in his partisan ♦jxcursions through the Carolinas. In addition to the successes of Marion, about this time occurred two battles in which the cause of freedom tri- umphed. General Sumter, on the banks of Tyger river, defeated a superior force of British troops, killing ninety- ':wo, and wounding one hundred, while only three Ame- ricans were slain, and three wounded. But among the latter was Sumter himself, who was long disabled by a severe wound in the breast. At King's Mountain the British under Major Ferguson were totally defeated, and the hopes of America began again to rise. Marion planned an attack upon Georgetown which had long been held by a British garrison; but in consequence of mismanagement on the part of his subordinates, the aitem2:t failed entirely. He now retired to his favourite retreat on Snow's Island, which lay at the point where Lynch's Creek and tlie Pedee River unite. Here the camp of the partisan was • General Sumter. 124 FRANCIS MARION. regularly established, and it was a spot admirably suited to his purposes. Running water enclosed it on all sides, and ihe current of Lynch's Creek was almost always in- cumbered by drifting logs and timber. Deep swamps formed the borders of the island, and in the cane-brakes great quantities of game and live-stock might generally be found. The middle part was more elevated, and covered with tall forest trees ; here Marion established his strong hold, and increased the natural defences of the island by diligent labour. From this retreat he could sally out in any direction, and by sudden strokes astonish the Tories who were gathering in aid of the British power. While lying at Snow's Island a mutinous spirit was shown by one of his own officers, but it was promptly suppressed by the decision of Marion. Another incident occurred which has often been recounted, and which has been regarded as worthy to furnish the subject for a his- torical painting. An exchange of prisoners having been agreed upon, a young English officer was sent from George- town to complete the arrangement with Marion. On arriving near the camp, he was carefully blindfolded, and was thus conducted into the presence of the American general. When the bandage was removed, he saw before him a scene for which he was not prepared. Lofty trees surrounded him, casting a sombre shade over all objects beneath them : under these were lying in listless groups the men belonging to the renowned partisan brigade. Active forms and limbs, giving promise of great muscular power, were clad in rude costumes which had already seen much service. Rifles and sabres were seen among the trees, and horses were around ready for instantaneous motion. Before him stood Marion himself, small in stature, slight in person, dark and sw^arthy in complexion, with a quiet aspect but a brilliant and searching eye. Scarcely could the officer believe that this was indeed the great man whose name had spread terror among all tlie THE DINNER PARTY, 125 eneraied of liberty in southern America. After the busi- ness before them had been properly arranged, the English- man was about to retire, but Marion pressed him to stay to dinner. The bewildered officei looked round him in vain for table or plates, knives oi forks, roast-meats or savoury vegetables ; but his suspense was soon to termi- nate. Sweet potatoes yet smoking from the ashes wore placed upon a piece of bark and set before the American general and his guest. This was the dinner, and while the officer pretended to eat, he asked many questions. "Doubtless this is an accidental meal ; you live better in general." <alllea his aim, and viaved the life of the rider, who escajied the RETURNS TO ENGLAND. 135 bullel with a slij^lit contusion only. A second pistol which the assassin (Jtcsenled, after the faihirc of the first, was stricken iroin his hand before he coidd use it, bv one of Lee's companions. The culprit was expelled the army. Preparations for a renewal of the war being now com- plete, Lee's regiment was ordered to proceed against the French garrison at Niagara. This place was invested by a force of three thousand British and Indian troops. After a siege of nineteen days, and a sharp action with a consi- derable body of French and red rnen, who were approach- ing to the relief of the garrison, the place capitulated. Lee again distinguished himself by his audacity and cou- rage. He had more than one narrow escape. In the affair with (he force that sought to relieve the fortress, two bullets traversed his hair, but without raising the skin upon his forehead. Despatched, after this success, with a small party of fourteen men, upon a scouting expedition, in order to ascertain the route taken, and the actual condition of that portion of the French army which had escaped from the battle, Lee was the first captain of English troops that ever crossed Lake Erie. He proceeded to Presque Isle, and thence by way of Venango, down the western brancii of the Ohio to Fort Du Quesne. Leaving this place, after a march of seven Irundred miles, he joined General Am- herst at Crown Point, and was then sent on another march, equally wild and tedious, to Oswego. This duty per- formed, he was ordered to Philadelphia, where he re- mained throughout the winter, on the recruiting service. The campaign of 17G0 found his regiment on its way down the St. Lawrence to Montreal. The surrender of this city and garrison completed the British conquest of Canada, and all active military employment ceasing for a while, Lee soon afterwards returned to England. In his Ame- rican campaigns he had done justice to the parental choice rf profession. He had shown skill and spirit in all the 136 CHARLES LEE. actions in which he had been engaged ; and equal intelli- gence and hardihood in those services which implied other virtues than those of simple courage. His progresses and performances confirmed the expectations of his friends, and satisfied all persons of his possession of large native endowments as a military man. In returning to England he did not retire into idleness. Exchanging the sword for the pen, with that ready facility which belonged to his impulsive character, he engaged warmly in the controversies which followed the British conquests in America, and in the question of what was to be done with them. It was a much more difficult question in that day than in ours, the uses or disposition of a con- quered territory, for which the condition of the world offered no immediate means of population. Lee had the merit, with some of the wise persons of the period, of looking beyond the immediate necessities of the time. He is supposed to have written the tract entitled <' Conside- rations on the importance of Canada, and the Bay and River of St. Lawrence," in which, agreeing with Franklin, he urged the policy upon the British of retaining posses- sion of Canada, a suggestion of the highest importance at a moment when the terms proper for a treaty with the French, furnished the grave subject under discussion. Lee is also thought to have written "A Letter to an Ho- nourable Brigadier-General, Commander-in-chief of His Majesty's forces in Canada" — an assault of parlicular pun- gency upon General Townshend, who succeeded to the command of the British army, after the death of Wolfe on the plains of Abraham, and whose despatches were thought to have forborne the proper tribute of acknowledgment to the great merits of his predecessor. This publication, as- suming that it was written by Lee, is supposed to have been the cause of his failure to find favour with the ministry, some of whose friends were severely handled in its *>a,^es. Meanwhile, however, his services in America were nc- SENT TO PORTUGAL. 137 knowledgL'd. He was raised to the rank of lieutenant- coloneK and was soon induced to lay aside the pen ana assume the sword in foreign service. As the ally of Por- tugal, Great Britain was required to assist that natiop against a threatened invasion of the Spaniards. Eight thousand English troops were accordingly sent to the aid of ihe Count de la Lippe, to whom the command of the allied forces was confided. Lee's regiment, in this new service, was under the immediate command of Brisfadier- General Burgoyne. The campaign was one of great ac- tivity, constant marchings and manoeuvrings, and frequent skirmishes and conflicts. In all of these Lee showed him- self alert and ready, and acquitted himself honourably. In one affair, especially, he acquired great applause. Sta- tioned on the south bank of the Tagus, opposite to the old Moorish castle of Villa Velha, the British division, under Burgoyne, maintained a vigilant watch upon the move- ments of the Spaniards, by whom the castle, the village, and the surrounding heights were occupied. Discovering, on one occasion, that the usually large force of the Spa- niards had been greatly lessened, in consequence of the disposition elsewhere of a large detachment, Burgoyne conceived the design of making an attempt upon the force which still occupied the Spanish encampments. The exe- cution of this purpose was confided to Lee. Crossing the river, with considerable difficulty, in the night time, with a detachment of infantry and cavalry, he continued his march through intricate mountain passes, and succeeded, undiscovered, in gaining the rear of the enemy. His des- perate charge, about two o'clock in the morning, upon the encampment of the Spaniards, was totally unexpected, anrl found them totally unprepared. Though surprised, the Spaniards fought with the thorough stubbornness natural to their nation. The conflict was a sharp and wild one. Tne grenadiers of Lee plied the bayonet wi;h terrible •ndustry, while his dragoons followed up with the keen 12* 138 CHARLESLEE. instinct, of hounds, the scattered fugitives who sought to fly. The strife was not more severe than short. Horse and foot of the Spaniards were dispersed or stricken down. In'fore day had dawned the victory was won. The victors did their work perfectly; the post was broken up, the troops scattered, captured, or slain ; a brigadier and seve- ral other olficers of the enemy lay dead upon the field ; their magazines were destroyed ; their cannon spiked ; while a large booty, mules, horses, baggage, and equip- ments, rewarded the enterprise and valour of the assail- ants. Lord Loudon described it to the British ministry as " a very gallant action." " So brilliant a stroke speaks for itself," W'as the eulogium of the Count de la Lippe, who was ever after the friend and correspondent of Lee. He bore with him from this campaign, as brilliant testimo- nials as rewarded any of its captains. Lee was not inactive on his return to England. He had already shown a large interest in the atfairs of the American colonies, and an equal acquaintance with their facts and politics. To this knowledge he gave a practical character, by proposing to the ministry the establishment of two new colonies, one on the Ohio, and the olher on the Illinois. But these projects were not entertained. His pen was not discouraged by the failure, though he directed it to other topics. He disapproved the plans of ministers for prosecuting the Indian war; and when the doctrine was broached, which imposed upon the American colonies the expense of protecting Canada, he did not hesitate to attack the mischievous suggestion with his wonted bold- ness. In elaborate and well conceived argument, sup- ported equally by history and philosophy, he gave a suffi- ciently decided indication of the tendency of his own sentiments and sympathies, in that issue which was rapidly approaching. He soon became an habitual piilitician, suffering no question of public importance to escajie him, and plunging as eagerly into the sea of controversy as he i ARRIVES IN POLAND. 139 had ever done info that of strife, and with quite ss much success and boldness. His opinions were always fearlessly conceived, and as fearlessly expressed as entertained. In their liberality they would do no discredit to the recognised repiibiicariisin of the present era. But even political controversy failed to suffice for the nervous energies of such a temperament. His military ardour was excited by the distractions of Poland, and by the presence of the Turk in force upon the borders of Moldavia. We find him, accordingly, upon his way through Holland, Brunswick, and Prussia, marking his progress by his correspondence ; and, finally, at the court of Stanislaus, the king of Poland. Here, warmly wel- comed by the king and his nobility, he was soon honouri'd by the former with an ajjpointment in his staff! iiul the military anticipations of our adventurer were not realized by this appointment, which was one of compliment rather than exercise. He sought not honours, but eni[)loyment. The Poles were not prepared at this time to encounler the vast and watchful power of the Russians, nor was Stanis- laus Poniatowski the prince to bring into profitable activity the sentiment of patriotism, which he too, in some degree, shared with the people whose liberties he was yet em- ployed to overthrow. Lee soon became dissatisfierl with the apathy and inactivity which every where prevailed around him, and readily accepted a proposal of the king to accompany his ambassador to Constantinople. His rest- less temperament made change always desirable, and he set forth with alacrity on a mission, the hardships of which, even if anticipated, would scarcely have discouraged his passion for adventure. Reaching the frontiers of Turkey, he became impatient of the slow progress of the embas- sage, and changed his company for that of an escort which guarded a certain treasure destinerl as tribute for the grand signior, then on its way from Moldavia. In this progress, our volunteer narro^vly escaped a double death from cold 140 CHARLES LEE. and starva'.ion, among the mountains of Bulgaria. It was a miracle that he reached Constantinople, where he at length arrived, after many hardships, and almost overcome by cold and exhaustion. At Constantinople he remained several months, examining, we may suppose, with his usual eagerness, into all that was curious or instructive in the manners and habits of the people. In this period he was permitted another escape from death, in consequence of an earthquake which tumbled his dwelling in ruins about his ears. After this he returned to Poland, and in December, 1766, we find him again in England, where he sought promotion, though without success, at the hands of his own sovereign, to whom he brought a letter of re- commendation from his Polish majesty. The neglect of the British king and his ministers, was probably due to some former indiscretions of our hero; to his liberal senti- ments, perhaps, or to the severity of his strictures upon persons in authority. Lee did not forgive this treatment, and we may, in some degree, ascribe to his feelings on the subject, something of that very decided course which he took against the crown in the subsequent struggle with the colonies. The stamp act had been passed and repealed while he had been a wanderer in Poland ; and the colonies had been growing warm with unusual fires, while he had been freezinsf in the solitudes of Bulgaria. Lee was the person, above all others, by his eager mercurial tempera- ment, and impetuous industry, to recover lost ground, and put himself in the van of progress. He soon imbued him- self with the history of English and American politics, dur- ing the period of his absence. His letters to Stanislaus and others, show with what rapidity he overcame space and time. They betray the exultation of his spirit at that which the Americans had displayed. "If another attack of the same nature should be made upon them," is the language of one of his letters to the king of Poland, "by a wicked, blundering minister, I will venture lo propltesy HONOURS IN POLAND. 141 that this country will be shaken to its foundations, in its weahh. credit, naval force, and interior population." But the fruits in America were not yet ripe. Those in Poland were supposed to be so. Lee was one of those who was always impatient of seed-time and harvest. In 1768 he hurried once more to Poland, where such events were in progress as his liberal spirit most ardently desired. The froniiers of that devoted country were overrun by armed parties of the confederates. But the blow fur Polish freedom was deferred to a more auspicious season. Lee was again doomed to disappointment. But there was em- ployment to be had. The Turk, the enemy of progress, as well as Christendom, was in the field, ravaging Molda- via: a formidable enemy, and then one of the first powers in the world. Lee volunteered against this foe. "I am to have," says he, in a letter from Vienna, " a command of Cossacks and Wallacks, ( Wallachians,) a kind of people I have a good opinion of. I am determined not to serve in the line; one might as well be a churchwarden." It was the monotony and lack of enterprise, in the one ser- vice, that prompted this expression of disgust. His object was practice in his profession, apart from any political pre- ference or sentiment. The Russian service, odious in a conflict with Poland, was yet legitimate and desirable as against the Turks. Lee reached Warsaw early in the spring of 1769. Honoured by the king of Poland with the rank of major-general, he overtook the army in Mol- davia, reaching it in season to take part in a very severe action between the hostile forces. Attacked by fifiy thou- sand Turkish cavalry, while passing through a difficult ravine, the left wing of the Russians, consisting chiefly of Cossacks and hussars, was driven back in confusion upon the infantry. Rallied and reformed, after a fierce conflict, they were barely able to keep their ground till reinforced by the second line. The struggle was renewed with su- perior fierceness, and, though the Russians succeeded io l42 CHARLESLEE. obtaining better ground for operations, the 'vhc e column was mor? than once in the extremes! peril. The assaults of the Turkish cavalry — a splendid body of troops, in which the chief strength of the Moslems lay — upon the ob- long squares into which the Russian troops were thrown, were equally terrible and incessant. The Russians were only too fortunate in being able to effect their retreat from a position, into which, thrown by rashness and incompe- tency, nothing but the tenacious stability and courage of their character, could possibly have kept them safe. It does not need that we should farther describe the events of this campaign, particularly as we have no means for in- dividualizing the performances of our hero. It is sufficient to know that his conduct was approved of No doubt, what he beheld contributed to his military acquisitions, which were the chief object of his adventure; but rather, it would seem, by the blunders than by the address and intelligence of those with whom he found himself asso- ciated. His opinions of the skill and genius of the gene- rals in command were exceedingly scornful and con- temptuous. But his term of service, much against his will, ended with the campaign in question. Rheumatism and a slow fever, brought on by bad diet and great exposure, rendered it necessary that he should leave the army, and seek a milder climate. In crossing the Carpathian moun- tains, in order to try the waters of Buda, he fell danger- ously ill, and, in a miserable village of Hungary, hrs at- tendants despaired of his life. The strength of his consti tution saved him ; and, after numerous vicissitudes and toils, we find him, in May, 1770, at Florence, in Italy. He remained in Italy during this summer, relieving the monotony of the season by a duel with a foreign officer, in which, while he killed his adversary, he himself lost two of his fingers. Before the close of the year, he was again in England. In England it was just as natural that he should rush REI'UTED AUniOR OF JUNIUS. 143 into politics, as in Moldavia that he should seek to do battle with the Turks. He now emjjloyed himself in frequent assaults upon ministers, who, at that period, it must be confessed, enjoyed a happy facility in provoking the hos- tiUties of the wise and liberal. His essays were not simply partisan. They aimed at something more ; and always breathed the most liberal sentiments, and taught ihe doc- trines of a proper republicanism. He aimed always at liie highest game, and engaged fearlessly wilh several oppo- nents of the greatest distinction. He had his sneer for Burke, and his sarcasm for Hume. His ironical letter lo the latter is full of wit and spirit. Wit, indeed, was one of his most formidable weapons. It tipped with a subtle poison the shafts which he discharged with an athletic and skilful hand. His admirers, however, are not satisfied that he should enjoy the reputation of an occasional writer only — the guerilla who, when his shaft is spent, disappears from the field of action. These unquestionable, though occasional, proofs of his ability as a writer and thinker do not conclude the claims which they assert for him as an author. They assert for him more enduring laurels. They claim for him the authorship of the famous letters of Junius; and, in spite of some obvious difficulties, which have not fully been overcome, they make out a very plau- sible case in support of the claim. Lee himself is said, on one occasion, inadvertently to have confessed the author- ship. His style, ordinarily, is not that of Junius, being much more free and familiar; and, though quite as epi- grammatic, yet less stately and ambitious. His variety and impetuosity would seem to militate against the impu- tation. He had the same powers of sarcasm, and, we should think, all the adequate knowledge and learning. The sentiments of Junius are not dissimilar to those notoriously entertained by Lee. Parallel passages from his writings, in support of the comparison, have been numerously made, to give countenance to the claim ; and. 144 CHARLES LEE. to the ingenious speculator, a thousand reasons might be given, quite as good, in all probability, as those which sustain the pretensions of any other person, to show that Charles Lee and Junius were the same. Still, we are not satisfied ; and such will be the answer of all other readers. The question must be left where we find it. It is one of those questions which can only be adjusted by a direct revelation from the dead. The case made for Lee is a plausible one, embarrassed, however, by some seeming impossibilities. In 1773 he resolved upon a tour through the Ameri- can colonies. He arrived in New York on the 10th No- vember of that year, and soon traversed Pennsylvania, Maryland, and Virginia, seeking chiefly, and in all quar- ters, the society of the politicians. In the summer of 1774 he went through the middle and eastern colonies, and returned to Philadelphia in season to be present at the first session of the continental Congress. In these pro- gresses, and while in Philadelphia, he succeeded in making himself favourably known to all persons of distinc- tion. His reputation had preceded him, and created an interest in his behalf; his eccentricities attracted curiosity, while his wit, great resources of thought and observation, and his patriotic and liberal sentiments, secured respect, and frequently compelled admiration. He made a very decided impression upon the American leaders, who were delighted with the acquisition to their cause of a person of such unquestionable worth and talent. He thus pre- pared the way for the ready and high acknowledgment which they made in favour of his claims, at the very first blush of the Revolution, From this moment, his pen and tongue became equally and constantly active in the cause of the colonies, which he espoused with equal ability and ardour. Our space will not suffer us to detail, at greater length, his services at this period. Enough that they were of importance to the movement which followed. No APPOINTED MAJOR-GENERAL. 145 na'ive American could have shown a greater zeal, and of a character more perfectly disinterested. It is not a matter of woniier, ihererore, that Lee should have gained so grtratly upon the favour of the provincials; or that they should be prepared, the moment that the crisis came, to confide to him the second military appointment in the nation. He had completely identified himself with their cause and feelings ; and the purchase of a valuable estate in Virginia, and the declaration of his purpose to reside upon it, seemed conclusively to unite his hopes and desti- nies with those of the country. The memorable conflicts at Lexington and Concord, which precipitated the crisis in American afTairs, deter- mined the future career of Lee. He was appointed, on the 17ih June, 1775, the second major-general in the con- tinental army, Washington being the generalissimo. That Lee had really indulged the hope of being first in com- mand, is not improbable. He had all the ambition requi- site for such a hope ; and there were many persons in the country who shared it with him, and encouraged him in the belief that it would certainly be realized. Brilliant, however, as were his talents, and proper as were his poli- tical principles, it is the great good fortune of America that its infant liberties were confided to wiser and stronger hands, and to a spirit more calm and equable. The er- ratic spirit of Lee, achieving startlingly and wondrously, as a general of brigade, would, as the commander-in-chief, have probably wrecked the fortunes of the nation. If dis- appointed at the preference shown to another, Lee was prudent enough to suppress every feeling of discontent. He cheerfully accepted the commission tendered him by Congress ; but, before doing so, resigned that which he had still held in the British service. He made consider- able personal and pecuniary sacrifices by the change. His fortune was ample ; his income a trifle less than a thousand Dounds per aunum. By periling his entire interests upon VoL.n. 13 K 146 CHARLES LEE. the cause of American liberty, he proved the integrity ot his principles, and the purity of his professions. Con- gress, it is true, by a secret article, voluntarily pledged themselves to indemnify him for all losses which he might sustain; but who was to guaranty the Congress? Their capacity to secure Lee against loss, lay wholly in the issue, of that doubtful struggle, which the wisest and boldest patriotism still beheld in apprehension and with mis- giving. Lee accompanied Washington to headquarters, then at Cambridge. It was while upon their route that they heard of the battle of Bunker Hill. At Cambridge, for a while, the two generals occupied the same dwelling. In the ar- rangement of the army, Lee took command of the left wing. Here his capacity and activity were soon and equally made manifest. With no opportunity for brilliant services, he was content to be simply useful ; and cheer- fully seized upon every chance which could enable him to improve his command, or promote the progress of the cause. Detached on service in Rhode Island, he was at once zealous and elhcient ; and, while some of his per- formances were thought of doubtful, and even hurtful policy, no question was entertained of the general pro- priety and becoming spirit of his conduct. New York, threatened by the British lleet, Lee earnestly solicited from Washington that its defence might be confided to him. He obtained his wishes. His approach, preceded by a report of his desperate resolution, greatly alarmed the good people of Manhattan for their safety. They trembled lest any show of defence might provoke the enemy to fire the town. The authorities wrote to Lee, deprecating all military demonstrations. He laughed at their apprehen- sions. «' If," said he, '< the ships of war are quiet, I shall be quiet ; but I declare solemnly, that, if they make a pre- text of my presence to fire upon the town, the first house Bet in flames by their guns shall be the funeral pile of IN COMMAND OF NEW YORK. 147 fome of their best frietids." Such was his answer It contained a quiet hint for the loyalists, for whom the writer entertained a most bitter aversion. Lee's arrival in New York was the signal for active preparations. He lost no time in putting the city in the best posture for defence. The captains of the British vessels of war threatened fiercely ; but he coolly defied their threats. The coininittee of Congress failed to supply him with the adequate force and materiel which had been promised him. He persevered as earnestly as if nothing had been withheld. We can only speak in general terms of his preparations. Among other of his proc('edings, he laid strong hands upon the tories. Where they refused the oath of allegiance, he took their persons into custody, and confiscated their arms to the use of the country. He was not the man for half measures in moments of perilous necessity. It was while Lee was thus engaged that the fall of Montgomery before Quebec suggested to Congress the propriety of employing him as the successor of that greatly regretted captain ; but this purpose was soon set aside, in order to meet a more immediate exigency. The British, preparing a descent upon the south, Lee was summarily despatched to take cominand in that department. He yielded the charge of New York to Lord Stirling, after affording an excellent example of vigilance, good sense, and spirit, in confronting, with equal decision and intelli- gence, the hostility of the enemy, and the apprehensions of the local authorities. Lee left his command in New York on the 6th March, 1776, and, after a brief delay in Philadelphia, where he received the instructions of Con- gress, he proceeded on his route into Virginia. Here he found employment for a brief period ; and was, indeed, compelled to linger, since it was still uncertain upon which of the southern colonies the attempts of the firitish would be made. Lord Dunraore, with a considerable fleet of 14S CHARLES LEE. small ve&seis was even then in possession of the waters of Virginia, ravaging the shores at pleasure, assessing the towns and settlements, levying contributions where he could, and bringing apprehension and terror every where. Lee's presence and counsels were of great advantage to the militia, who needed nothing but the experience of a practised soldier to apply their patriotism and courage eflectually to the preservation of their homes. He coun- selled the arming of boats, for their rivers, and the organ- ization of a body of cavalry. His plan was to " fit the rivers with twelve or eighteen-oared boats, mounting a six- pounder at the head of each, fortifying the sides with oc- casional mantlets, musket-proof, and manning them with stout volunteers, whose principle should be boarding." In the absence of better weapons, he recommends the use of spears to the infantry. He gives a preference to this weapon over the bayonet, saying, "I never in my life had any opinion of bayonets." His light-horse were to be armed " with a short rifle carbine, a light pike, eight feet in length, and a tomahawk." We mention these opinions, without presuming to decide upon their merits. That he should think lightly of the bayonet, is certainly a very curious opinion for a British soldier, and perhaps was only an unqualified way of alleging a preference for the pike, which, being lighter, might be carried of much greater length than any musket. But Lee was not permilted to linger in Virginia suffi- ciently long to witness any of the results from his sugges- tions. The destination of the British fleet was soon un- derstood to be South Carolina ; and thither, accordingly, he proceeded with all possible expedition. He reached Charleston in advance of the enemy ; and prepared, with his usual eagerness and impulse, for their proper reception. "His presence," according to Moultrie, "gave us great spirits. He taught us to think lightly of the enemy, and gave a spur to all our actions." But there was an ob- ATTACK ON FORT SULLIVAN. 149 slacle to his progress, at the outset. He was a general without troops. The forces assembled for the defence of Carolina were chiefly in the service of the state, of which he was not an officer. Rutledge, however, then president of Carolina using the powers which were vested in hira, placed the provincial troops under the control of Lee, whose activity soon justified this confidence. The British fleet, a powerful armament, at length made its appearance ; add, on the 28th June, 1776, opened its numerous bat- teries upo?! Fort Sullivan, an incomplete fortification, little more than a breastwork, which stood at the very threshold of Charleston harbour. This post was under the command of Colonel Moultrie. To have been arrested by such an obstacle ; to have stopped fairly, and stripped for the con- flict, with a fortress which could not have much delayed ♦he passage of his fleet to the city, was a great blunder of the British commodore. Fort Sullivan was really no ob- stacle to his advance. An old military principle, borrowed from the land service, led to the commission of this error, which defeated the objects of the expedition. The city captured, the outpost would have been completely isolated, and must have fallen at a single summons, as it subse- quently did. A fair breeze would, in twenty minutes, have carried the British ships beyond the reach of the humble battery of logs and sand, which tore the armament to pieces. The history of this bombardment properly be- longs to the biography of General Moultrie. It will be found elsewhere in these pages. Some surprise has been expressed, that Lee should not have taiien the defence of this fort upon himself; but, surely, the fact needs but a single moment for reflection, to dissipate all surprise upon the subject. Fort Sullivan was simply one of the outposts by which the approaches to the city were guarded. Thai the main battle should have been fought at this point was simply the blunder of the British commodore. But foi bis erroneous tactics, Charleston must have been the scene 13* 150 CHARLESLEE. of s(rugs:le--the true field of conflict — where the greater portion of the troops were assembled, several thousand in number, and where Lee properly took his position, in anticipation momently of the threatening trial. The whole force at Fort Sullivan was but four hundred men. To have receiveil its fire, in passing up to the city, without expending more than a single broatiside upon it, was all that the British commodore should have done. It was but a waste of gunpowder, and, as we have seen, an unneces- sary imperiling of the morale of his troops, to plant him- self regularly before it, for a conflict, in which victory would have gained him nothing, since the main fight would still have awaited him at the wharves and bastions of the city. That Lee should not have bestowed himself upon one of his outposts, to the neglect of his principal fortifications, seems quite as obvious as that no good mili- tary man would ever have supposed that an invading arma- ment would have expended itself, unnecessarily, in such a conflict. Lee's interest in the battle was fervent and unremitted. If not actually in command of the post, he gave it much of his attention, and was present at a moment when the conflict raged most fiercely. Nothing was left undone, by him, which could secure the victory to the garrison. He did not withhold himself in the hour of danger, and was twice, going and returning from the city to the fort, exposed to the fire of the enemy. It was highly honourable to him, that, seeing how well Moultrie was playing his part, and with what a glorious prospect of success, he did not selfishly interpose to relieve him of his command, and thus rob him of any of his well-earned laurels. The defeat and departure of the British fleet, left Lee doubtful in what direction they would next turn. For a while his task was to hold his troops in readiness to march wherever the danger threatened. When, however, it was ascertained beyond a doubt that the armament of the tmemy ORDERED TO HAERLEM. HEIGHTS. 151 had passed to the north of the Chesapeake, he addressed his energies to other enterprises. He conceived the plan of an expedition against East Florida — a region which, from the beginning, had been the receptacle for all the re- fugees and disconlents of the south ; and, from whence, whenever occasion offered, accompanied by motley squads of runaway negroes and hostile Indians, they would emerge for the invasion and annoyance of the neighbouring colo- nies. It was in the midst of his preparations for this ex- pedition, that Lee was summoned by Congress to Phila- delphia. The resignation of General Ward left him next in command to Washington. He was now directed to repair to the camp at Haerlem Heights, where the main array daily expected an attack from the British under Sir Willijim Howe. Here he arrived on the 14th October, and took command of the right wing. The anticipated danger passed away. The post was not attempted. At a council of war, held two days after Lee's arrival, it was decided that the whole force of the army, with the excep- tion of two thousand men, left to garrison Fort Washing- ton, should march across King's Bridge, and so far into the country as at all events to outflank the enemy, who was evidently aiming to bring all his strength to bear upon the rear of the Americans. The only error that seems to have been made in this decision of the council, was that of periling, unnecessarily, the troops assigned to the de- fence of Fort Washington. When the array left the heights of Haerlem, the division of Lee was stationed near King's Bridge, the better to pro- tect the rear. This position was a greatly exposed one, and demanded all of his vigilance for its security. Lee, however, was quite too enterprising always, to be content simply to be vigilant. He boldly ventured upon the offensive, and, in harassing the British outposts, his par- ties frequently skirmished with detachments of the enemy act inferior in force ; and with such success, as in everv k 15'2 fHARLES LEE. instance, to speak for the equal courage of his ti Dops and the good judgment which planned their enterprises. The march of the army occupied four days; the column, with its cumbrous trains of baggage and artillery, constantly open on its right, to the assaults of the British, whose de- monstrations were consequently frequent. Lee covered its exposed points with admirable efficiency, still keeping between it and the enemy, yet succeeding finally in bring- ing his division, undiminished and in tact, until he joined it to the main array at White Plains, where a general aclion was anticipated. The British approached for this purpose ; but the post was too strongly taken for Sir Wil- liam Howe to attempt it. After glaring upon it with the vexation of the beast of prey who finds the caravan too well appointed, he drew off his forces with the intention of making New Jersey the scene of operations. As soon as this became obvious, Washington resolved to cross the Hudson and throw himself in front of the enemy, leaving Lee, with seven thousand men, in the position which he then occupied. The fall of the tw^o forts, Washington and Lee, opened the way for the progress of Howe. He pressed into New Jersey, while Washington, with a feeble forcej which be- gan daily and rapidly to dwindle into greater feebleness, found himself compelled to retreat before him. His situ- ation becoming critical, he wrote to Lee to join him with all possible despatch. Here Lee's misfortunes, if not misconduct, may. be said to have begun. He does not seem to have given much, if any, heed to Washington's entreaties. These entreaties were renewed ; became ex- hortations; and, finally, imperative commands. They pro- voked no adequate attention. Lee was busy, in various ways, and does not appear to have given any consideration to these requisitions. He had his own plans of perform- ance, just at this moment; which, however, did not reach consummation. We have proofs that he made eloquent TAKEN PRISONER. 153 entreaties to the New England troops, then about to leave him; which, however, failed to persuade them to continue in the field. There was also, on his hands, a very pretry little quarrel with General Heath, whom he pererapioriiy ordered to do that which he showed no alacrity to do him self, namely, furnish troops for the relief of the commander- in-chief. Heath, having a special duty to perform, refused to recognise the authority of Lee, who had, fortunately, too much other business to consider, to nurse properly this incidental controversy. At all events, Lee, however em- ployed, made but slow progress in joining his superior. His tardiness in obeying the commands of Washington, on this occasion, is not to be accounted for, and has never been explained. It is supposed that his great passion for operating independently, was just now more than ever predominant in his mind, in consequence of the inception of some brilliant scheme of his own, some bold stroke, by which he was to confound the British at a blow, and make himself the idol-hero of the nation. He loitered and lin- gered for two or three weeks on the east side of the Hud- son ; and, even after he had crossed the river, proceeded on his way with a coolness and deliberation strangely re- markable, particularly when it is remembsred that he was urged to celerity by continual despatches from the com- mander-in-chief. He paid the penalty for his misconduct. For reasons which have never been explain^rd, and which we should now vainly seek to fathom, he chose, on the night of the 13th December, to take up his quarters, with only a trifling guard, some three miles from the encamp- ment of his army. Here he was surprised by an enter- prising British partisan ; and, with bare head, wrapped in blanket coat, and slippers, was carried off in triumph by his enemy — not a blow struck, not a shot fired — not a weapon lifted in his defence. The surprise was so com- plete as to leave resistance hopeless. His conduct, in exposing himself to this humiliating 154 CHARLES LEE. nazard, was Jt once inexcusable and suspicious; and the proofs now exist of a feeling on his part, even then^ inimi- cal to the success of Washington. This, while it furnishes the key to much of his conduct hereafter, deprives him of the benefit of all the excuses offered by his friends on this occasion. There can be little doubt, indeed, that, while Lee had every desire to secure the independence of America, it was not so much a paramount desire in his mind, as that he himself should be the military and poli- tical saviour who should accomplish this great achieve- ment. The misfortune which attended his misconduct in some degree disarmed the severity of that public censure which otherwise must have followed it ; and the sympathies of the nation with his condition, made them somewhat for- getful of his errors. The severity of his treatment by his British captors, deprived suspicion of its argument against him; and,. in being taught to tremble for his life, as a traitor to the British crown, the Americans were made to acknowledge his patriotism, however much they might suspect his prudence. General Howe at once put Lee into close custody, and wrote to England regarding his case — considering him as a deserter from the British army. Washington ofTered five Hessian officers in exchange for him ; anri, this being refused, warned the British general that any violence done to his captive would be surely and severely retaliated upon the British officers, and their foreign allies. The American general followed up his threat by committing half a dozen of his prisoners to close custody also ; avowing his resolve to make iheir treatment depend wholly upon that to which Lee was subjected. This decisive proceeding brought the enemy to his senses. Lee, after a detention of several months, was admitted to his parole ; and, some time after, was exchanged, when he rejoined the American army at Valley Forge. His release from captivity was only an apparent good fortune. It OPPOSES A GENERAL ACTION. 155 would have been much better for his fame if he had perished in hi.s bonds, a martyr to liberty, and to the hate and fear of the sovereign whose livery he had refused to wear. The events were now rapidly approaching which were to obscure his reputation for ever. The evacuation of Philadelphia by the British, and their subsequent march across New Jersey, under Sir Henry Clinton, drew upon them the vigilant eye of Washington. Without delay, the American general put his troops in motion also, and, crossing the Delaware, soon made his way to Hopewell, in the former state. Here, on the 24!h of June, he called a council of war. At this council a warm discussion took place upon the question, whether a general action should be hazarded or not.-' A majority of the officers declared themselves in the negative ; but, at the same time, a nearly unanimous opinion was expressed, that a further detachment of fifteen hundred men should co-operate with the force which was already engaged in harassing the enemy's progress. Lee was amongst those who declared against a general action. His opposition was grounded upon the admitted disparity between the experience and discipline of the troops composing the rival armies — the difference being greatly in favour of the British. No one, as it appears, ventured to urge that a general action should be sought at any hazard ; but several were of opinion that, in the event of any favourable op- portunity, such arrangements ought to be made as should bring it on. The council had scarcely been dissolved, when Greene, Lafayette, and Wayne, wrote separately to Washington, expressing their dissent from the decision of the majority. They gave certain and strong reasons, which we need not here repeat, for a more vigorous prosecution of the war. It is probable that Washington himself, from the outset, entertained similar opinions. At all events, these communications were such as to influence his deter- mination to exercise that discretion which the nature of 156 CEARLESLEE. nis coramind necessarily conferred upon him, and whicn, while prudence justified his resort to a council of war, left him free to follow its dictates or not, according to his op- tion. He now resolved to send out " such a detachment as would harass the enemy, and check their progress ;'* while he himself, marching in person with the main army, should take such a position as would enable him, in the event of a favourable aspect of affairs, to bring, at pleasure, his whole force into immediate action. The command of the advanced troops, of right, belonged to Lee ; but, doubting the expediency of the whole proceeding, and predicting the evil consequences which would flow from its adoption, Lee manifested no alacrity in occupying the position which was due to his rank. Witnessing this re- luctance, Lafiiyette solicited the charge, which Lee cheer- fully yielded up to him. Lafayette, eager to distinguish himself, had already begun his march towards the British, when Lee, having now had time for reflection, and begin- ning to feel to what awkward inquiries, if not suspicions, his conduct might give rise, changed his mind, and, in a letter to Washington, now requested- that he might be re- instated in his command. To this the answer was a ready assent ; and Lafayette restored his baton to the capricious general, with all the grace of a Frenchman and a courtier. Lee, in making his demonstration, had with him a force of five thousand men. With these he was to advance, while, at a distance of three miles in the rear, Washington followed with his whole army. During the night, the British were reported to be encamped in the open ground near Monmouth Court-House. Washington's plan was to begin the attack as soon as they should resume their march. Lee was required to make his dispositions ac- cordingly, and to keep his men upon their arms all night. At five o'clock, on the morning of the 28th, the British column was in motion ; and Washington's orders to Lee were that he should now move forward, and begin the REASONS FOR RETREATING. 157 attack, " unless there should be very powerful reasons to to the contrary." These orders were certainly discretion- ary, but they were as certainly of a very imperative de- scription ; disobedience to which imj)lied the necessity of showing a very great and unexpected change in the con- dition of things, differing totally from those which distin- guished the relative forces at the time when the instruc- tions were given. Lee was further informed that the second division was pressing forward to his support. These orders, at the outset, were promptly executed by the person to whom they were addressed. Lee overtook the rear column of the British, and sought, by a proper' division of his command, to bring it between two fires. The time spent in making these arrangements — unex- pected difficulties of the ground — an error on the part of one of the brigadiers — and a considerable reinforcement of the threatened rear, of which Lee had no knowledge — conspired to baffle the success of the scheme ; wiiile a re- treat, which Lee himself had never contemplated, by one of his brigades, seemed to force upon him the necessity of withdrawing his whole division. This he most reluctantly ordered, with the intention of forming his troops in the rear, whenever he could find the ground suitable to his pur- poses and operations. He had thus retired about two miles and a half, skirmishing all the while with his now pur- suing enemy, when he was encountered by Washington, In advance of the main army. The latter, apprized by the cannonade of the opening of the game, had been, left by Lee in total ignorance of the retreat. This had already consumed two hours; yet the latter had never thought to inform the commander-in-chief of the unexpected change in his affairs. His first knowledge of the disaster and dis- appointment came from his encounter with the fugitives tnemselves. The surprise and indignation of Washington were naturally great. Sternly demanding of Lee the rea- son for the disorder which he beheld, he was answered, Vol. IL 14 158 CHARLES LEE. according to some of the versions of the affair, with spleen and insolence. A sharp but brief conversation ensued between ihera, when, after seeing to the formation of some of the fugitive regiments, on ground which he himself pointed out, Washington demanded of I^ee, '< if he would take the command in that place.'"' On his assent being given, "I expect then," said Washington, << that measures will immediately be taken to check the enemy." Lee answered, that his << orders should be obeyed ;" and that he "would be the last to leave the field." While Wash- ington galloped back to bring up his own command, Lee proceeded to execute his task with equal energy and promptness. The conflict between his division and that of the enemy was resumed with S[)irit ; the British charge was sustained with firmness; and, while the American army was making its appearance on the ground, and form- ing in the rear, Lee brought off his column in good order. A general action followed, which was continued through- out the day. Darkness alone separated the combatants ; and, while the Americans lay on tlieir arms all night, ex- pecting to renew the struggle with the dawn of the coming day, the British troops were marched off silently, without beat of drum, preferring a quick and safe passage to Sandy Hook, to the renewal of another doubtful conflict in such hot weather. Lee tendered his services on the field of 6attle to the commander-in-chief, as soon as he put his separate command in line, and while the main action was corning on ; but what he did — where he led — or how he behaved, during the remainder of the struggle, the histo- rians give us not the smallest information. The conduct of Lee at Monmouth, though much more severely visited than strict justice is now prepared to ap- prove, was of a piece with that which delayed the junction of his troops with those of Washington, at a moment of great exigency with the latter. It was probably, in part, the result of his habitual eccentricity, and of his reluctance COURT-MARTIALLED. 169 to serve under a man whom he secretly desired to super- sede. But this event would scarcely have ruined hini, had he remained unobtrusively quiet — had not his irritable and impatient temper led him to the commission of farther errors. A moderate amount of censure, rather looked than expressed, on the part of the American authorities and people, would probably have concluded the affair But his tongue, that always restless member, and his pen, that ready agent of his spleen and sarcasm, compelled the attention of the public, and forced upon Washington the necessity of subjecting him to arrest and court-martial. He wrote two very offensive letters to the commander-in- chief, and spoke of him freely and offensively on all occa- sions. These letters formed a part of the charges broughi against him. These charges included — "Disobedience of orders," " misbehaviour before the enemy," and disre- spect to the commander-in-chief. Lord Stirling was pre- sident of the court appointed for his trial. The inquiry seems to have been ample. Lee's defence was able and ingenious, but, in some respects, was thought to be insin- cere. The court, after some qualification of the terms, found him guilty of all the charges, and sentenced him to a suspension of twelve months from any command in the army; a sentence of considerable severity, and of which the sanguine disposition of Lee had left him in no appre- hension. It would be doing him great injustice to say that the actual proofs on the trial justified this decision. But there are offences which the contemporary time alone can understand, and of which the future obtains a partial knowledge only. The undesert of an individual may be thoroughly understood by a community though no detailed records, leading to their judgment, may be placed upon the chronicle. Something of the severity of this sentence was due to the irritation of the American people, at con- duct which was at least perplex, and which seemed to be at best motiveless; something to the general dislike of the 160 CHARLES LEE. officers of the army, and to the continued indiscretions of the offend<:r, who was always giving provocation to his neighbours. That he had committed many and grievous fauhs, was undeniable ; that he was really guilty of dis- obedience of orders, misbehaviour before the enemy, and a disorderly retreat, at Monmouth, is a decision which the impartial historian, in these calmer periods, will be slow to declare. Congress confirmed the judgment of the court-martial, but only after considerable delay and much discussion. The event increased the ferocity of Lee, whose denuncia- tions of Washington were bitter and unsparing. He was at length called upon to answer and atone for them by Colonel John Laurens, of South Carolina, one of the aids of the commander-in-chief. Shots were exchanged between them, and Lee was wounded in the side. Censured by Chief Justice Drayton, rather gratuitously, it would seem, in a charge to a grand jury in South Carolina, he chal- lenged Drayton to the field ; an invitation \vhich the latter declined, on the ground that such a mode of arbitrament would outrage his public character. Disgusted with public life by these events, and the severity of his fortunes, Lee retired to his estates, in Berkley county, Virginia. Here he lived like a hermit, in a rude den rather than dwelling, his dogs, books, and horses, being his only companions. But the restlessness of his mood did not permit that he should wholly deny himself the luxury of an occasional quarrel with the world, and the bitterness of his hates soon found a public utterance from the depths of his solitudes. Three months after his retirement, he wrote and published an assault upon the military and political character of Washington, in the form of queries, which appeared in a Maryland newspaper. These caused a temporary excite- ment in the breasts of most Americans; his only excepted whom they were most designed to injuie. They do not seem to have disturbed the calm of Washinjrton's mind DISMISSED FROM THE ARMY. 161 tor a single moment. His comments on these queries, unostentatiously conveyed in a letter to a friend, showed him entirely superior, in the sedate and even temper of his soul, to the feverish hosiilily of his assailant. Lee was not the person to emulate this serenity. His temper- ament was too peevish, his ambition too vain and eager, for a philosophy so profound. Some rumour having reached his ears, that Congress, about to diminish the war establishment, had determined to dismiss him from the array, he seized his pen, in the first moment of angry ex- citement, and wrote an impertinent letter to that body which provoked the very dismission the report of which had so much outraged his self-esteem. He was thus, in the constant anticipation of evil, as constantly drawing it down upon his head. His connection with the army at an end, he became somewhat more tranquil in his temper, and soon entered, with more than wonted equanimity, into the consideration and discussion of public affairs. Still residing on his farm in Virginia, he nevertheless devoted himself to books and politics. His correspondence was always large, and carried on with the most distinguished persons. It was always admirable for its wit; was usually suggestive, and marked by the boldness of its speculations. His principles, in politics and morals, were noted for their liberality — some would say looseness — and, by a freedom of tone, and a vivacious ease, w'hich showed them to be the natural results of his reflection, and not merely so much game, started by his fancy, to be abandoned within the hour, for other objects of pursuit. He was a free- thinker in most matters, as he certainly was in those of religion. He never succeeded as an agriculturist. His farm soon became unprofitable, and it was while endea- vouring to negotiate its sale, in the autumn of 1782, that he was seized, at Philadelphia, with a fatal illness. His last words, uttered in the delirium of fever, declared the wandering fancies of his mind to be with the army, and in 14* L 162 CHARLES LEE. the heady currents of the fight. " Stand by me, grena- diers!" were the words with which his fiery spirit broke loose from its earthly tabernacle. Thus ended the mortal career of this remarkable man. He died on the 2d Octo- ber, at the premature age of fifty-one. His talents were equally distinguished and various. His genius was de- cidedly military; impaired only by eccentricities of temper and by fits of passion, which were probably due quite as much to his early and irregular training, as to the original organization of his mind. He was constant in his friend- ships and antipathies, and, perhaps, seldom constant to any thing beside. If it be urged as his reproach, that he was a hearty hater, it must be admitted that he was equally hearty in his sympathies and friendships. His writings are full of vitality and would bear republication. They are usually distinguished by their spirit; sometimes blurred by frivolities, but often humorous and witty. He pos- sessed a knack of pungent expression which seldom left his sarcasm innocuous. His career is one which may be studied with great profit, by him whose impulses are erra- tic, and who would avoid the shonls and rocks which are always likely to wreck the fortunes of such a character. " Possessing," in the language of Washington himself, *' many great qualities," he was any thing but a great man! Capable, under proper training, of reaching the very highest eminences of public favour, we find him, when most a favourite, sinking suddenly out of sight, into obscurity certainly, if not in shame ; <« the comet of a sea- son" only; and going out, in utter darkness, when it was within the compass of his genius, under a better self-re- straining will, to have become one of the fixed stars in the sky of American liberty. MAJOR-GENERAL THOMAS MIFFLIN. Thomas Mifflin, descended from one of the oldest settlers of Pennsylvania, was born in Philadelphia in 1744, and was educated in the college of that city and in the counting-house of William Coleman (one of tho early friends of Franklin) for the business of a merchant. In 1765 he visited Europe, and soon after his return he entered into a partnership with an elder brother, with flat- tering prospects, and by his activity, public spirit, and popular manners, soon acquired considerable reputation and influence, so that in the twenty-eighth year of his age he was chosen one of the two burgesses to represent Phila- delphia in the colonial legislature. In the following year he was re-elected to the same oflice, associated with Dr. FrankUn, and in 1774 was appointed one of the delegates for Pennsylvania to the first Congress. When intelligence of the battle of Lexington reached Philadelphia, in 1775, Mifflin addressed the people as- sembled in town meeting, with much boldness, decision and eloquence. He engaged earnestly in the enlistment and discipline of troops, and was appointed major of one of the regiments raised in the city. Upon his arrival at Cambridge he was received into the family of the com- mander-in-chief as aid-de-camp, (July 4, 1775,) and in the following month was made quartermaster-general. Upon the appointment of Stephen Moylan as commissary, (May 16, 1776,) he was commissioned a brigadier, and in this capacity commanded the covering party on the night of the retreat from Long Island.* While the army was at Newark, (24th December,) he was despatched by • See vol. i. p. 30. 163 1G4 THOMAS MIFFLIN. Washington to Philadelphia to represent to Congress the necessity of reinforcements. The manner in which he executed his duties is described in the following charac- teristic letter.* ii Philadelphia, 26th Mv. 1776, ) 9 o'clock, A. M. S « Mv REAR General — At 10 o'clock last evening I re- ceived your letter of the 24th inst., and will make proper applications of your excellency's sentiments on the pro- bable movements of the enemy. I came into this town at eight o'clock Sunday evening, and waited on Mr. Hancock with your letter immediately afler my arrival. Yesterday morning I was admitted to Congress in General Com- mittee, and went as far in my relation of the wretched appointments of the army, the c'^ngerous and critical situation of the Jerseys and Pennsylvania, and the neces- sity of immediate vigorous exertions to oppose Mr. Howe as their sensibility and my own delicacy M'ould justify. After some debate, a requisition was made to the As- sembly now sitting, and Council of Safety of Pennsylva- nia, of their whole militia, and resolutions formed for the purpose of establishing wholesome and necessary regula- tions for this and the next campaign. I received orders from Congress to remain in this town until your excel- lency judged it necessary for me to join the army. Those orders were in consequence of the divided and lethargic state of my countrymen, who appeared to be slumbering under the shade of peace, and in the full enjoyment of the sweets of commerce. In the afternoon I waited on the Committee of Safety, and with much success addressed their passions. The Assembly are to meet this morning ; their lesson is prepared by the Committee of Safety and some of their leading members, who say matters will now go on well. It is proposed to call on every man in the * Life of President Reed, i. 66. HIS PUBLIC SERVICES. 165 state to turn out ; such as refuse are to be fined j£5 per month, the fines to be distributed among those who enlist. To-morrow the city militia is to be reviewed. If they appear in such numbers as we expect, I am to give them a talk, well seasoned. The German battalion move from hence to-morrow. Three regiments from Delaware and Maryland are to follow them to Brunswick as soon as pos- sible, by which I fear the shores of Delaware, at and near New Castle, will be much exposed, provided Mr. Howe attempts to disembark in this river. Your excellency's opinion on the designs of the enemy, and the best means to oppose them, should they divert your attention in Jersey, and attempt an impression on this state by means of their ships, will be necessary from time to time. The light horse of the State of Virginia are ordered to join your excellency's army. The principal military stores are to be removed from hence. Five hundred thousand musket cartridges will be sent to Brunswick. Ordered 1000 wagons to be collected, if possible near this city, to remove, when occasion requires, the most essential arti- cles belonging to the public. I sent Colonel Harrison's letter to him last evening. Mrs. Washington's letter is in the post-ofTice, and will be forwarded by post at eleven o'clock this day. «' I am, my dear general, with much attachment, your obedient, humble servant, Thomas Mifflin." General Miftlin succeeded in raising fifteen hundred men in Philadelphia, who arrived in the camp at Trenton about the 10th of December, and on the 28th he joined the commander-in-chief in person with further reinforce- ments. He was in the battle of Princeton, but did not distinguish himself there. For the ability and energy he had displayed, however, in bringing into service the militia, he was, on the''17th of February, 1777, appointed a major-general ; and he continur d to act in the quarter* 166 THOMAS MIFFLIN. master's department, though without fulfilling its difficult duties to the perfect satisfaction of e ther the army or Congress. In the gloomy period which succeeded the campaign in New Jersey, General Mifflin did not attempt to conceal his discontent, and, after the battle of Germantown, he tendered the resignation of his commissions as major- general and quartermaster-general, on the ground of ill health, and retired to Reading in the interior of Pennsyl- vania. His commission of quartermaster was accepted on the 7th of November ; but the rank of major-general was continued to him, without the pay belonging to the office, and he was at the same time chosen a member of the new board of war, consisting then of Colonel's Har- rison and Pickering, with himself, but enlarged before it went into operation by the addition of Richard Peters, Colonel Trumbull, and General Gates, one of whom was chosen in place of Colonel Harrison, who declined his appointment. The council of war which assembled on the 8th of May, 1778, was composed of Generals Gates, Greene, Stirling, Lafayette, Kalb, Armstrong, Steuben and Knox, with himself and the commander-in-chief. On the 21st day of May he obtained leave to rejoin the line of the army. General Mifflin was one of the chief of the conspirators engaged in the Conw^ay cabal, and the most active of the natives of the country who were implicated, with the exception perhaps of Dr. Rush of the same state. Upon the occasion of his return to the army, General Wash- ington, doubtless with a full knowledge of his conduct and feelings, wrote to Gouverneur Morris: "I am not a (ittle surprised to find a certain gentleman, who, some lime ago, when a cloud of darkness hung heavy over us, and our affiurs looked gloomy, was desirous of resigning, tc be now stepping forward in the^ine of the army. But if he can reconcile such conduct to his own feelings, as an HIS DEATH. 167 officer and a man of honour, and Congress have no objec- tion to his leaving his seat in another department, I have notliing personally to oppose to it. Yet I must think, that gentlemen's stepping in and out, as the sun happens to beam forth or become obscure, is not quite the thing, nor quite just with respect to those officers who take the bitter with the sweet."* General Mifflin continued to cherish an unfriendly disposition towards the commander-in-chief, but the disgrace of Conway and Gates, and the conse- quent overthrow of their party, prevented any conspicuous manifestations of ill feeling. On the 12th of November, 1782, General Mifflin was elected, by the legislature of Pennsylvania, a member of Congress. On the 3d of November, in the following year, he was chosen president of that body ; and in this ca- pacity he received the commission of Washington, which was resigned at Annapolis, on the 23d of December. After the close of the war. General Mifflin continued to be actively engaged in political affairs. In 1785 he was chosen a member of the state legislature, of which body he was made speaker; in 1787 he was a delegate in the convention to form the federal Constitution ; in October, 1788, he succeeded Franklin as president of the supreme executive council of Pennsylvania, which office he held until the autumn of 1790 ; he was also president of the convention which in the last mentioned year formed the constitution of Pennsylvania, under which he was elected the first governor, and he held this office nine years. In December, 1799, a short time before the expiration of his chief magistracy, he was returned to the legislature, and he died while attending the sittings of that body, at Lan- caster, on the 21st of January, 1800, in the fifty-seventh year of his age. • Washington's Writings, v. 371. MAJOR-GENERAL SAMUEL H. PARSONS. Samuel Holden Parsons, son of the Rev. Jonathan Parsons, was born in Lyme, Connecticut, on the 14th of May, 1737. He graduated at Harvard College in the class of 1756 ; studied law at Lyme in the office of his uncle, Matthew' Griswold, (afterwards governor,) and in 1759 commenced the practice of his profession in his native town. He soon rose to distinction, and from 1762 to 1774 was a member of the General Assembly of Connecticut, from which he received the appointment of king's attor- ney He now removed to New London, where, in 1775, he was chosen colonel of miUtia. On the 9th of August, 1776, he was appointed a brigadier-general by Congress. In 1779 he succeeded Putnam as commander of the Con- necticut line of the army, and served with reputation until the close of the war. On the 23d of October, 1780, he was promoted to the rank of major-general. He was an active member of the Connecticut convention for rati- fying the Constitution of the United States. In 1785, he was appointed by Congress one of the commissioners to treat with the Indians at Miami ; and m 1788, Presi- dent Washington conferred upon him the office of judge of the North-western Territory, including the present states of Ohio, Indiana, Illinois and Michigan. In the foliowincr year, he was appointed by his native state a commissioner to treat with the Wyandots and other Indians on the borders of Lake Erie, for the extinction of the aboriginal claims to lands included in the » Con- necticut Western Reserve." While returning from this service to his residence at Marietta, Ohio, he was drowned by the overturning of his boat in descending the rapids of Big Beaver rive^ on the I7th of November 1789, at the age of fifty-two. ^S. (SEW, \Bo [LaW(D®[Ll MAJOR-GENERAL BENJAMIN LINCOLN. The ordinary remark that great exigencies produce men qualified to meet tiiem, was well illustrated in the subject of the present biography. Eminently a man of the people, endowed with substantial, but not brilliant, qualities, he possessed the happy art of conciliating opposing interests, and of keeping alive a steady resolution where else there would have been wavering from the common cause. At the same time clear, good sense, straightforward firmness and honesty, and unwearied faithfulness, gave weight to his counsels, and marked him out for responsible positions, in preference often to men of greater military knowledge and more striking character. In this resj)ect it is perhaps enough to say that he early acquired and never lost the confidence and approbation of Washington. Benjamin Lincoln was born on January 24th, 1733, at Hingham, Mass., where his family had long resided, and where it still may be found. He was the son of Colonel Benjamin Lincoln, a farmer in good circumstances, whose estate and calling he inherited. His early education was limited to those branches taught in the common schools of the town ; though, as he was a man of active and inquiring mind, and had access to books and to good society, no deficiencies of culture were apparent during his important public career. He was early appointed to various offices in his native town and county, and, on the commencement of the difficulties with Great Britain, embraced the side of the colonists with great zeal and efficiency. In Septem- ber, 1774, he was chosen to represent Hingham in the General Court, that afterwards resolved itself into a pro- vincial Congress, of which Lincoln was the secretary, and Vol II 15 169 170 BENJAMIN LINCOLN. he served in the same capacity in the second body of the sarae kind, which met at Cambridge, 1775. He was also a member of the " Committee of Supplies," and, in May of the same year, was one of the two muster-masters aj)- pointed to form the " Massachusetts army." These functions naturally led him into a military career, for which he had been somewhat prepared by his dutios as an officer of the militia. During the autumn of 1775, he was promoted considerably ; and in February, 1776, he received a commission as brigadier-general from the Council of the state, and soon after became known to Washington, whose army was in the vicinity of Boston at the time, as one of the most energetic and zealous patriots of Massa- chusetts. In the May following, he was made major- general ; and, during the summer, had charge of military affairs throughout the state. The news of the battle of Long Island found our hero engaged in directing the erection of works for the defence of Boston harbour. He was now put in command of the Massachusetts militia, who were furnished for the conti- nental service, and with them joined the army on York Island. Soon after Lincoln's arrival, the enemy succeeded in cutting off Washington's water communication with Albany, and forced him to retreat to White Plains, and finally to cross the Hudson, leaving Lincoln and his troops on the eastern side, attached to the division of General Heath, whom he directed not to act without consulting the Massachus'^tts general. At the close of 1776, Lincoln, having under him the greater part of a new levy of six thousand militia of Massachusetts, was engaged with General Heath in the attack on Fort Independence, which, being not well managed, turned out badly. This was in the latter part of December; and, on the 10th of January follow- ing, he crossed the river, and joined Washington at Morristown. On the 19th of February, he was trans SURPRISED AT B U N D B R O O K. J71 feired by Congress to the continental service, with the rank of major-general. After this appointment, Lincoln was stationed at Bound- brook, on the Raritan river, a few miles from New Bruns- wick, the advanced post of the British. This was a most exposed situation, requiring the greatest vigilance in keep- ing it. In spite of all care on the part of the general, the patrols were negligent. A party of some two thousand men, under Lord Cornwallis and General Grant, surprised the post, on the morning of the 13th of April. Lincoln had barely time to escape with one of his aids before his quarters were surrounded. Another aid, with the gene- ral's papers, was captured, as were three pieces of artillery. About sixty of the Americans were lost in killed, wounded, and prisoners. The same day, the British having retired, Lincoln resumed his position with a stronger body of troops. In the manoeuvres which s.ucceeded in that quar- ter, he maintained his reputation for discretion and energy. He remained attached to Washington's command till, in the latter half of July, he was sent north, together with General Arnold, to act under General Schuyler against Burgoyne,»who was rapidly and triumphantly advancing towards Albany. In compliance with the direction of Washington, Lincoln was put in command of the militia, over which, as was expected, he exercised the most bene- ficial influence. He arrived at Manchester, Vermont, which was the rendezvous of the troops coming in from New Hampshire and Massachusetts, on the 2d of August, and at once entered on the arduous duties of his command. He had to discipline his raw troops, correspond with the authorities of Massachusetts, New Hampshire, and Ver- mont, procure supplies and ammunition, of which there was a serious deficiency in his camp, and, at the same time, to maintain a constant watch upon the enemy. To the manner in which these functions were discharged — especially the establishment of order and discipline among 172 BENJAMIN LINCOLN. the militia — was owing, in a large degree, the great ad- vantage gained by the republican cause in the surrender of Burgoyne. The victory of Stark at Bennington, and the success of Arnold in raising the siege of Fort Schuyler, were followed up by Lincoln, who seized the posts of the enemy upon Lake George, and broke Burgoyne's line of communica- tion. On the 22d of August, after the battle of Still- water, by which the fate of the British army was in fact decided, Lincoln joined Gates at Stillwater, in obedience to his orders, and took command of the right wing, con- sistmg of the eastern militia, and Nixon's, Glover's, and Patterson's brigades. In the action of October 7th he had no immediate share, but on the 8th his division moved forward, driving the British out of their lines. Soon afterwards, in leading a small force of militia to a post in the rear of Burgoyne's army, he fell upon a party of British by mistake, supposing them to be Americans, and was severely wounded, his right leg being fractured as he was turning his horse to escape. This wound con- fined him a year, and lamed him for the rest of his life. In consequence of this he was not present at thf surrender of Burgoyne, and did not rejoin the army till August, 1778. During this long confinement he received numerous gra- tifying evidences of the high regard in which he was held by his brother officers, particularly those who had been under his command. Washington also conferred on him a special mark of esteem, in the gift of a set.of epaulettes and sword knots, which he had received from a French gentleman to be bestowed on any friend lie might choose. General Lincoln arrived in "Washington's camp on the 7th of August; on the 25th of September, he was appointed by Congress to the chief command of the southern de- partment of the army, and on the 8ih of October, departed to enter upon this most difficult sphere of action. He arrived in Charleston on the 4th of December, hav LOSS OF GEORGIA. 173 iDg been detained some lime upon the way. Not long after, Colonel Campbell, at the head of two thousand British troops, took Savannah, with alossof more than five hundred men on the part of General Howe, who, with eight hundred continentals and some five hundred militia, attempted to defend it. At the same lime, General Prevost, the British commander in Florida, invaded Georgia from the south — - took a fort at Sunbury, under command of Major Lane, making the whole garrison prisoners, and then joined Campbell at Savannah. The state of Georgia was thus lost for the present, and the sole American army in the south almost destroyed. All this did not, however, dishearten the steady and re- solute Lincoln. 'He collected supplies and reinforcements with the utmost industry, and on the 3d of January, 1779, was able to take post at Purysburg, some thirty miles from the mouth of the Savannah river, #'iih nine hundred and fifty men. This small force was increased in the course of the month to three thousand seven hundred, of whom only eleven hundred were regular troops. The militia added very little to the strength of Lincoln's little army ; those from South Carolina were especially trouble- some and restive to discipline. They were, ere long, however, restrained by a law which subjected them to be transferred to the regular service, or instantly tried and punished, for any act of insubordination. Greater num- bers of them were also called out, and a regiment of cavalry was organized. Lincoln now being able to attempt more extensive ope- rations, sent General Ashe, with sixteen hundred men, one hundred of whom were continentals, to take post op- posite Augusta. He arrived there on the l3th February; the British fled to Savannah at his approach, supposmg his force to be much larger than it really was. Lincoln ordered him to follow the enemy down the river in order to prevent any demonstrations against his own position, at 15* 174 BENJAMIN LINCOLN. Purysluirg. Ashe obeyed, but with culpable taitliness, and neglect of proper precautions. In consequence, Pre- vost surprised and defeated him, making prisoners of hia regulars, who alone stood fire. Ashe himself was among the first of the fugitives, and not more than four hundred and fifty of his whole force of militia ever returned to the camp of Lincoln; the rest were killed or captured, or else betook themselves to their homes. Lincoln's army was thus diminished to two-thirds of its previous number. Congress had voted a thousand men from Virginia for the southern department, but they were not forthcoming. Still Lincoln preserved the same cou- rage and determination, and never omitted a single eflbrt. Considerable bodies of militia were raised, and Governor Rutledge took post at Orangeburg, and distributed them so as to protect South Carolina, which was now threatened from almost ever^ quarter. Lincoln in the mean while marched to Georgia, for the purpose of seizing Augusta, and confining the enemy to the coast, leaving General Moultrie with a thousand men at Purysburg. General Prevost, in consequence, made a feigned march towards Charleston, hoping to call Lincoln back to its defence But the latter seeing through this design reinforced Moul- trie with three hundred light troops from his own force, and requested Governor Rutledge to march his militia from Orangeburg to the capital, while he himself continued his course towards Savannah. Prevost finding the people of the country favourably disposed to the British cause, changed his feigned march into a real one, and compelled Moultrie to retreat upon Charleston, where Rutledge joined him on the 10th, in season to save the place. Lincoln, recalled to the dti- fence of the city, arrived there on the 14th, Prevost having retreated two days before on the rumour of his coming. Being .anxious to strike a decisive blow at this antagonist, andof Closing with honour a campaign which had hitherto ATTACK ON STONE INLET. 175 been fruitless, Lincoln rletermined to attack the British advanced post on Stone Inlet, and carry it before assistance could be sent from their main body, which was stationed on John's Island opposite. By the time that the American army was prepared for this step, the British force was diminished to about six hundred. Moultrie was ordered to move from Charleston to threaten the British on the island, while the main body of the Americans made the attack. But he did not arrive till the time for his aid had passed, and, in consequence, the attempt was a failure, though all the dispositions were made with good judgment, and the troops under Lincoln fought with bravery. The loss on each side was about one hundred and sixty. This battle was followed by the withdrawal of Prevost from the neighbourhood of Charleston, leaving Colonel Maitland, with eight hundred men, to harass the Ameri- cans. Lincoln, w'ith nine hundred continental troops — • the militia having returned home after the danger was over — took post at Sheldon. The summer heats now put an end to active operations. The health of the general was already seri(>usly affected by the climate, and the wound in his leg had re-opened. On account of this Con- gress voted to him permission to resign his distinct com- mand, and to return to the army under Washington. This served as the occasion for the manifestation of that esteem which he had gained in spite of the misfortunes he had experienced. All parlies, including General Moultrie, on whom the command would devolve in case of Lincoln's withdrawal, united in urging him to remain. In conse- quence, he determined to do so, broken as was his health ; and, on an intimation of this determination to Congress, he was, by a vote of that body, requested to continue his command. Measures were also decided on to strengthen his army, though they were not put in execution with suf- ficient promptness. 176 BENJAMIN LINCOLN. Meanwhile Lincoln had not only to struggle with illnesa which confined hitn to his bed, but with the insubordina- tion of his troops, some of whom even mutinied, for want of pay and clothing. On the iSth of August he also re- ceived a letter from the provisional government of Georgia, entreating that General Scott's command, which was marching from the north to join him, might be directed to the protection of the upper counties of that state. How- ever, before this was decided. Count D'Estaing, the French admiral, arrived off the coast, (on the 1st of Sep- tember,) for the purpose of attacking Savannah in combi- nation with the Americans. Lincoln thereupon raised what forces he could, and left Charleston on the 8th. He was delayed by various cir- cumstances, so that he did not arrive at Savannah till the 16th, where the French force was before him, having al- ready summoned Prevost to surrender to the arms of France. Against this procedure Lincoln remonstrated, and it was agreed that thereafter all negotiations should be carried on in the names of both the French and Ameri- can commanders. The preparations for the attack were injudiciously pro longed for several days, giving the British opportunity to complete the defences of the town, and to receive a rein- forcement of eight hundred choice troops, under Colonel Maiiland. The place now being deemed too strong to be taken by assault, much lime was lost in bringing up artillery from the French ships. A regular siege was at last commenced, but, after having been continued five days without effect, it was determined to carry the town, if possible, by assault. The main body, under Lincoln and D'Estaing, was to attack the principal redoubt in front, while a column under Count Dillon was to fall on the rear of the same fortification. The main column moved on the evenmg of October 9th, under cover of darkness, and came nea*- the redoubt before they were dis- k SIEGE OK SAVANNAH 177 covered. A hot fire was opened on them, but they faced it most bravely. Climbing on the bodies of their fallen comrades, the survivors amid that bloody storm madt their way into the battery, drove out its defenders, and raised the American flag on the parapet. D'Estaing had meanwhile been carried off the fieldj wounded, Pulaski was gone also, and the French were let't without a leader, as Lincoln could only speak Engli.sh. At this moment, when the victory seemed almost gained, Colonel Maitland, with consummate skill and courage, brought up the dragoons and marines from the neighbour- ing batteries, and forced the allies to withdraw, just as Dillon's column appeared in the rear. Had it come up a few minutes sooner, the British would have lost every thing. As it was, Lincoln soon perceived the impossibility of success, and drew off his forces in good order, wiih their wounded. The loss of the French was six hundred and thirty-seven killed and wounded ; and of the Ameri- cans, two hundred and forty. The British, who fought under cover, lost some hundred and twenty only. The siege was at once raised, in spite of Lincoln's endeavours to induce the French commander to prosecute it farther. The French embarked on board their ships, the militia went home, and Lincoln was left once more with but a small and discouraged body of regular troops to protect the Carolinas. Though the failure of this undertaking spread a gloom throughout the whole country, it seems not to have diminished the public confidence in Lincoln, or his own reliance upon himself He made every endeavour to pre- Dare for the large army M'iih which the British government were now designing to conquer the whole south. Espe- cially he attempted to procure the formation of regiments ot negroes, but the legislature would not consent to it Congress, however, sent to his aid several regiments of troops, and three frigates, though he would have heex% M 178 BENJAMIN LINCOLN. better reinforced with the means of pa^'ing his murmuring soldiers, and providing necessary supplies. But for every difficulty he had a resource, and never seemed to be bur- dened beyond his powers. The first step was to make good the defences of Charles- ton, but while the works were in prog ess the small-pox broke out in the city and put an end to all labour. Fi- nally the expected descent of the British tbrces took place. Sir Henry Clinton with an army more than three times outnumbering that which Lincoln could bring against him, landed on John's Island, on the 10th of February. In- stead of marching directly upon the city, which was in no condition to resist hira, he made very slow and cautious advances, as if in the presence of an army equal to his own ; fifteen days were occupied in making a progress of thirty miles. In this emergency every thing seemed to work against the Americans. Governor Ruiledge, endowed by the le- gislature with powers little short of dictatorial, ordered out the militia of the state, but very few obeyed. The shipping, on which Lincoln had placed great dependence for the defence of the town, proved to be useless. At the same time the civil authorities utterly refused to consent to an evacuation of the ciiy, though a council of war de- cided that it was untenable ; and though there was no doubt that it must ultimately surrender, they declared to Gene- ral Lincoln that if he attempted to leave them, they would destroy his boats, and open the town to the enemy at once. Before Sir Henry Clinton came up to the city, the de- fences were completed, through the perseverance and en- ergy of Lincoln, who himself took pickaxe and spade, and laboured among the negroes, as an example to others. The British appeared before the batteries in the first week of April, and commenced a regular siege. By the 16th they had pushed forward their entrenchments so that small arms be^an to be used with great effect between the par- SIEGE OF CHARLESTON. l79 ties. At the same time they succeeded in cutting ofT Lin- coln's communication with the country, and his provisions began to fail. A truce was arranged on the 21st, to settle terms of capitulation, but Lincoln's proposals were rejected. A council of war at the same time deliberated on the pos- sibility of drawing off" the garrison, but that was agreed 1o be out of the question. Defence to the last moment was accordingly resolved on. The siege was renewed and prosecuted with unabated vigour; the discharge of small arms by the sharp shooters of both sides was incessant, while the roar of howitzers and bursting of shells knew no abatement from the darkness of night. On the 8th of May, the besiegers having carried their works to the very edge of the canal in front of the Ameri- can entrenchments, and being prepared for an assault, Sir Henry Clinton once more summoned Lincoln to surrender. A truce was agreed upon till the next afternoon, and mean while the militia, supposing all to be over, without waiting for orders, betook themselves with their baggage to the town, leaving the lines in great part undefended. The same terms were once more offered by Lincoln, and once more refused, and on the 9th, at evening, hostilities re- commenced.* The scene that night is described as terrific. The constant firing of mortars, the bursting of shells in the air, the explosion of magazines and ammunition chests, and the groans of the wounded and dying grew more and more fearful as the drama approached its close. For two days and nights the unequal conflict was maintained with- out cessation, till at last the general was besought by the inhabitants and the authorities to surrender. Indeed it was impossible longer to protract the struggle. All his provisions were exhausted, except a little rice, the militia had thrown down their arms, and the regulars were en- tirely worn out by severe and long-continued labour. On tlie 12th the capitulation took place, on terms exceedingly favourable to the Americans. 180 BENJAMIN LINCOLN. To the ropnblioan oauso. the loss of Charleston was the severest blow roecivoil during the wiir, niul caused n very great depression in the popular feeling. Lincoln, however, lost nothing of the general respect and eonfKlenee. This was only to render him justice. It must be adinitled that his conduct throuj:i;h the whole atVair was the most judi- cious and admirable that it possibly could have been. After the surreiuler of Charleston, Lincoln remained i prisoner on parole till the first of November, when he was exchanged. lie did not however rejoin the army till June of 1781, but in compliance with the suggestions of Washington, remained in Massachusetts, engaged in raising recruits and procuring supplies, a business for which he was well adapted. On returning to the camp, he took command of a division, and for a month remained in the vicinity of New York, where the commander-in-chief was engaged in watching the movements of the enemy. During the subsequent march of the army to the south, Lmcoln had the immediate command, and participated in the siege of Yorktown, and the surrender of Cornwallis. For his services on this occasion he was thanked together with Lafayette and Steuben, in Washington's general orders of October 20th. In the capitulation he took a conspicuous part, and must have been gratified by meeting Lord Corn- wallison an occasion like that in which only a year before, both hail performed totally dillerent characters; Cornwallis having been one of the principal officers of Sir Henrv Clinton's army at Charleston. Soon alter this. General Lincoln was withdrawn from active service in the field, by his appointment to the im- portant and arduous office of Secretary of War. In this ca- pacity he served the country till the disbanding of the array, in October, 1783, No man could have been better suited to this post, during that most critical period. Besides its regularly burdensome duties, the officers of the army, many of them being pecuniarily ruined by their long devotioo to POLITICAL SERVICES. 18t me service, were clamorous for some more solid acknow- ledgment of their labours than they had yet received, ot than seemed possible from an exhausted treasury. To Lincoln's tact, good judgment, and personal influence, th*» infant republic was much indebted for its protection from ihe great and perhaps incurable evils, that threatened to grow out of their just yet apparently unallowable demands, which were finally settled by compromise. After retiring to private life, at his home in Ilingham, General Lincoln engaged at first in a plan for purchasing and .settling the wild lands of Maine. lie also devoted himself to various objects of public utility, and wrote several essays, which remain as evidences of creditable tastes, and of a healthy activity of mind, on the part of one whose early educalion and subsequent employments had done little to foster literary propensities, lie was called from retirement by the breaking out of Shay's rebellion, which he succeeded in quelling. He also took an active share in the discussion which preceded the adoption of the federal constitution in Massachusetts, and by his in- fluence contributed very greatly to bringing about that result. In 1788 h6 was elected lieutenant-governor; and afterwards, when the general government came to be organized in 1789, he was appointed by Washington col lector of the port of Boston, which office he held until, in 1806, the infirmities of old age rendered him incapable of discharging its duties. During this time he was also in trusted with missions to various Inriians tribes of the south and west, which he performed to the perfect satisfaction of the government. In the year 1798, his pecuniary cir- cumstances, which after the Revolution had been exceed- ingly straitened, but which the income of his collectorship had much improved, became .seriously involved in conse- quence of the failure of General Knox, whose notes he had endorsed. In this embarrassment, the integrity of Lincoln's character was fully manifested. His friends, in view of the Vol. II. 16 183 BENJAMIN LINCOLN. peculiai cueumstances of the case, urged him to put nis property out of danger, but he constantly reiused. The affair was subsequently settled without any loss to Lincoln. The death of this good man took place on the 9th of May, 1810, in the seventy-eighth year of his age. He de- parted, as became one whose life was nobly spent, with all the composure of a man, and all the faith of a Christian. He was followed to the grave by many who had borne with him tlie burden and the heat of the Revolution, and by a long concourse of relatives and friends. In his native town and its vicinity, and throughout the state of Massachusetts, his name is still held in grateful remembrance. Without standing forth in the history of our country prominent for any one brilliant deed or striking endowment, those who have followed our brief sketch of his life must feel the worth both of his services and of his character. As we said at the beginning, he was eminently a man for the times in which he lived. Strong good sense, a clear judgment, inflexible honesty, a firm will, untiring energy and vigour in practical aflairs, and a genial and generous heart, were in him combined and balanced in happy pro- portion, less frequent if less likely to arrest a superficial observation than a great predominance of any one of these gifts. As a soldier, as a politician, and as a man, he lived an eventful and an honourable life. Amidst difficulties and defeats, he preserved the respect and confidence of the country, and passed through the most trying situations without a blot upon his character. Would that in all emergencies our beloved republic might find servants as honest, capable, and disinterested ! General Lincoln married at an early age, and, for more than half a century, enjoyed a degree of domestic happi- ness which no doubt did much to strengthen him for the sterner duties and trials of his life. BRIGADIER-GENERAL MONTGOMERY. Thk << Plains of Abraham," and the << Storming of Que- bec," are phrases familiar to the youngest child, so often celebrated in rude song and made the subject of chivalric detail, that in after-life when we read of these things as facts of history we can hardly bring our minds to see in them the events of but yesterday, and the achievements of a late generation. The storming of Quebec under the gallant Wolfe wears all the aspect of some renowned event, far removed into the romance of history ; and the second attempt to carry the place in the same manner under oui own no less gallant Montgomery, who had himself shared the perils and witnessed the death of the first leader against Quebec, has the same aspect of boldness, hardi- hood, and chivalry, which lends so much grace to the fate of Wolfe. Then, when we remember that Montgomery perished himself before the same walls, no less beloved, honoured, and deplored, the whole assumes the appearance of a strange fatality. The ashes of the one were removed to England by a mourning people and interred in Westmin- ster Abbey ; while those of the other were finally disin- terred by a no less appreciating people, and placed under a monument in front of St. Paul's Church in the city of New York. Richard Montgomery was born in Ireland in 1736, At the age of eighteen he entered the British army, where nis courage and his manly bearing, no less than the energetic solidity of his unrlfrstanding, soon rendered him conspi- cuous amongst his fellows. We find h'.m early in the French war doing good service for king and country, 183 (S4 kiCHARD MONTGOMERY. active at the siege of Loiiisbiirg, where his coolness, capacity, and courage, won the warm approval of Wolfe. It is certainly a pleasir.g coincidence that these men, des- tined to terminate their career upon the same ground, should be thus warmly accordant in sentiment. At the termination of the war, Montgomery obtained leave to revisit Europe, where he remained nine years, a close observer of the aspect of the times. Though little is known of him at this period, his readings of the hand- writing upon the political wall must have been clear and full of noble import, for, in 1772, when the affairs of our own country were becoming each day more threatening, Richard Montgomery threw up his commission in the British army, and sought a home in our newer land, beset as we were with difficulties in every shape. Arrived upon our shores, he purchased a farm in the neighbourhood of New York, and shortly after still more strongly cemented the alliance of home and country by a marriaoe with the dauijhter of Hobert R. Livinjrston. Having removed to Rhinebeck, Duchess County, he de- voted himself assiduously to the honourable and primitive pursuits of agriculture, a tendency to which occupation is in all fine minds an instinctive reminiscence of the de- lights once enjoyed by our great first parent Adam in the garden of Eden. But a man like Montgomery could not well be inactive, as the needs of the times called into pro- minent exertion the most eflficient and available men ; accordingly we find him a representative of his county in the first Provincial Convention held in New York, 1775. It will be seen that this was a most stirring period — hos- tilities were already commanced between us and Great Britain, the time for remonstrance and deliberation had expired, and Montgomery, like other good and true men, was called into action. Congress, in June, 1775, appointed him to the rank of bngadier-generai in the Continental array, an homsge ♦» EXPEDITION ro CANADA. 185 ittegrity and worth highly honourable to the recipient, for be it remembered, that with all the narrowness of views which sometimes characterized the proceedings of that remarkable body of men, a narrowness arising from ai> unfamiliarity with parliamentary usages and an ignorance of the military spirit, they had a thorough and instinctive recognition of integrity of purpose, which rendered their awards upon that ground the highest possible compliment In view of this appointment, Montgomery says, with something like foreboding : «' The Congress having done me the honour of electing me brigadier-general in their service, is an event which must put an end, for awhile, perhaps for ever, to the quiet scheme of life I had pre- scribed for myself; for, though entirely unexpected and undesired by me, the will of nn oppressed people., compelled to choose between liberty and slavery, must be oheyed^ At the commencement of hostilities between the two governments, it became apparent to Congress that the Canadas must be reduced, or at least held in such a state of abeyance as should prevent the atrocities likely to fol- low from the alliance of the Indians of the frontier with our enemies ; the extent of territory exposed also, and the facility of invasion from that quarter, made the securing of positions there to the last degree important. Accord ingly it was determined to invade the country, by two routes, the one, by way of the Kennebec, through the wilderness of Maine, the command of which was intrusted to the then courageous and indefatigable Arnold ; the other, by the way of the river Sorel, was devolved upon Montgomery. The circumstance of Schuyler's illness threw the respon- sibility of the Canada campaign entirely upon Montgo- mery. He continued to make his way into the country, notwithstanding the hindrances of ill-supplied munitions of war, marshy and unhealthy districts in which he was obliged to encamp, and which caused much sutTerlng in 16* 186 RICHARD MONTGOMERY. the army, and the mutinous spirit of his trc ops, who, their k^rra of enlistment being nearly expired, were indisposed to a service which promised to be not only severe but protracted. The fortresses of St. Johns, Chamblee, and Montreal, finally yielded to his arms, and the still more difficult task of ettecting a junction with Arnold before the walls of Quebec remained for achievement. It was now the beginning of winter, the cold was in- tense and his men poorly provided for the inclemencies of that rigorous climate. Arnold, after incredible hard- ships, had made his way through the forests of Maine, and had already crossed the St. Lawrence wdth his hardy band early in December. They were now before the great keystone of the north, few in number, it is true, bui the spirit of the two leaders equal to the most heroic dar- ing. Nor were the difficulties with which they had to contend slight or few ; they were to invest a place of great strength and importance with an inadequate army, and these just on the point of mutiny ; their guns were scanty in number, and insufficient in size, and they were already disheartened by severe cold and protracted marches. On the 31st of December, 1775, the movement of the. troops commenced before daylight upon the Plains of Abraham. Montgomery advanced at the head of his di- vision round the foot of Cape Diamond, and though the whole route was obstructed not only by snow but by the ice thrown up by the river, by which the hazards of dou- bling the promontory were much increased, the dauntless band pushed forward, and carried the first barrier wuth a vigorous assault. A moment, but a moment of pause, to reassure his self- exnaustea" troops, and the gallant Montgomery waved nis ^■•vord, onward : "Men of New York, follow where your general leads !" and he pressed toward the second bar- rier, cheering his men, and performing prodigies cf valDur HIS DEATH. 187 There is a rush — a deathlike pause — a merging to and fro of armed men — the plume of the gallant leader sweeps the snow of the battle-field. The cold December sun came forth and looked upon that red waste, and the gallant Montgomery, dead, pierced with three wounds. Quebec and the Canadas are still the property of the foe. The tumult of battle died away, and the enemy, for* getting the animosities of war, remembered only the vir- tues of the dead — remembered only that a great man had sealed his doom under those ill-fated walls, and they opened their gates to the mourning train of followers, and gave their gallant enemy, one most worthy of their steel, a tranquil and temporary resting-place till peace should once more return to our borders. BRIGADIER-GENERAL JOHN WHITCOMB. John Whitcomb, of Massachusetts, served with dis- tinction in the " old French war," and was not called into service at the opening of the Revolution, on account of his advanced age ; but the soldiers of his regiment were so attached to him that they resolved not to enlist under any other officer, and the veteran, failing to succeed by ad- dressing their patriotism, proposed es an inducement for them to continue in the army to join them in the ranks. Colonel Brewer, however, who had been appointed his successor, relinquished the command of the regiment, and Colonel Whitcomb continued with it at Boston until he was made a brigadier-general, in June, 1776, when he succeeded General Ward in charge of the troops in that ciiy. He was soon after permitted to retire from the service, and his ambition was gratified in seeing men of d younger race succeed in establishing the independence of the country. BRIGADIER-GENERAL JOHN CADWALADER. John Cadwalader was a native of Philadelphia, and B brother of Colonel Lambert Cadwalader, a vakable olboor in the Continental service, who, after the close of the Revolution, was four years a representative of the state of New Jersey in Congress. He sustained a high charac- ter in his native citv, was a member of the l^ennsylvania Convention in 1775, and had gained great popularity as an officer of the nnlitia. In March, 177(5, the Assembly appointed him colonel of the second battalion raised in that state. But as he had requested the command of the Hrst battalion, he declined the appointment. At the close of the year 177t), the atl'airs of the country wore a serious aspect. The enemy was in possession of New York, and had overrun a considerable part of New Jersey. The American army hail lost during the cam- paign near five thousand men by captivity and death; and the few remaining regulars, amounting only to two thou- sand, were upon the eve of being liisbanded ; for as yet the enlistments were for the short term of only one year. GeneralHowe had cantoned his troops in several villages on the Delaware, in New Jersey. His strongest post was at Trenton, where he had twelve hundred Hessians under the command of Colonel Roll. General Washington oc- cupied the heights on the Pennsylvania side of the river, in full view of the enemy. A few cannon-shot were now and then exchanged across the river, but without doing much execution on cither side. The two armies lay in -hese positions for several weeks. In the meanwhile the spirit of lioerty, inflamed by the recital of the ravages committed by the British in New Jersey, began to revive in every part of the continent. Fifleen hundred assi'.cia- BATTLE OF TRKNTON. 189 tors, — for as yf^t most of the statfs wf-re without militia laws, — marched from PhilafJf;lp}iia, undf-r Oerifral Cadwa* lader, to n-inforce the army of Washington. This body consisted chiefly of citizens of the first rank and character. They had been accustomed to the enjoyment of weahh and ease. But neither the hardsliips of a military life nor the severity of the winter checked their patriotic ardour. The affluent merchant and the journeyman tratJesrnan were seen marching side by side, and often exchanged with each other the contents of their canteens. These troops were stationed at Bristol. On the evening of the 25th of December, the cornmander-in-chief marched from his quarters with his little band of regulars to McKonkie's ferry, with the design of surprising the enemy's post at Trenton. He had previously given orders to General Ewing, who commanded a small body of the militia of the (lying camp, to cross the Delaware below Trenton, so as to cut off the retreat of the enemy towards Bordentown. He had likewise advised General Cadwalader of his in- tended enterprise, and recommended him at the same time to cross the river at Dunk's ferry, three miles below Bristol, in order to surprise the enemy's post at Mount Holly. Unfortunately the extreme coldness of the night increased the ice in the river to that degree that it was impossible for the militia to cross it either in boats or on foot. After struggling with the difficulties of the season till near daylight, they reluctantly abandoned the shores of the Delaware, and returned to their quarters. General Washington, from the peculiar nature of that part of the river to which he directed his march, met with fewei obs-tacles from the ice, and happily crossed over about daylight. He immediately divided his force, and marched Ihem through two roads towards Trenton. The distance was six miles. About eight o'clock an attack was made on the picket guard of the enemy. It was commanded by a youth of eighteen, who fell in his retreat to the main 190 JOHN CADWALADER. body. At half after eight o'clock, the town was nearly surroundecl, and all the avenues to it seized, excej)! the one left for General Ewing to occupy. The commanding officer of one of the divisions sent word to Washington just before reaching the town, that his ammunition had been rendered useless, and desired to know what he must do. The commander-in-chief, with the readiness that was so natural to him in action, sent word to «' advance with fixed bayonets." The laconic answer inspired the division with the courage of their leader. The whole body now moved onwards in sight of the enemy. An awful silence reigned through every platoon. Each sol- dier stepped as if he carried the liberty of his country upon his single musket. The moment was a critical one. The attack was begun with the artillery, under Colonel Knox, which was supported with sjiirit and firmness. The enemy were thrown into confusion in every quarter. One regiment attempted to form in an orchard, but were soon forced to fall back on their main boily. A company took sanctuary in a stone house, which they defended with a field-piece judiciously posted in the entry. Captain Wash- ington (a relation of the generars) was ordereil to dis- lodge them. He atlvanced with a field-piece, but finding his men exposed to a close and steady fire, suddenly dashed into the door, seized the oflicer by the collar who had command of the gun, and made him prisoner. His men ibllowed, and the whole company were immediately captured. In the meanwhile victory declared itself every- where in favour of the American arms, and General Wash- ington received the submission of the main body of the enemy by a Hag. The joy of the Americans can more easily be conceived than described. This was the first important advantage they had gained in the campaign, snd its consequences were at once foreseen. Early in the morning of the 27th of December, 1776, General Cadwalader crossed the river from Bristol, with HEFUSES A COMMISSION. 191 fifteen hundred militia, without being informed that Wash- ington had re-crossed the Delaware. The enemy at this time might have easily cut him off, but the landing in open daylight alarmed them, and they began to retreat towards Princeton, Cadwalader advancing on the way to Burlington. At Bordentown, he waited until the chief again crossed the Delaware, and was then directed to join the army at Trenton. In January, 1777, Washington recommended the ap- pointment of a brigadier-general out of each state to command their respective troops. He urged the appoint- ment of Cadwalader among the first, characterizing him as <ga, from Boston to Charlottesville in Virginia. After the removal of Washington's head-quarters to New Windsor in June, 1779, General Heath, who had been in command at Boston for a short time, was ordered to repair to the Highlands, and was placed in command of * Sparks's Washington, iv. 307. AT YORKTOWN. 197 Plixoft's, Parsons's, and Huntington's brigades, on the east side of the river, with a view to guard against an attack upon West Point. Upon intelligence of the destruction of Fairfield, Norwalk, &c., by General Tryon and his myrmidons, General Heath was ordered to proceed with the two Connecticut brigades to counteract his move- ments. He afterwards returned to the Highlands, resum- ing his former command of the left wing, posted on the east of the Hudson, opposite West Point, and had the charge at this post after General Washington removed hit head-quarters to Morristown. In the spring of 1780 General Heath, having been appointed by the legislature of Massachusetts to superin- tend the recruiting of new levies and procuring supplies for tte army, returned to that state, where he performed these duties to the satisfaction of the commander-in-chief. In July, he repaired to Rhode Island, upon the arrival of the French fleet with the forces under Count Rochambeau, and expressed himself delighted with the French officers and the fine marlial appearance of the troops. After remaining some time with the PVench commander, he was' ordered to rejoin the army in the Highlands, where he remained most of the time until the march of the grand army under Washington to the field of Yorktown, where the surrender of Lord Cornwallis closed the campaign and the war of Independence. In April, 1783, Congress ordered the cessation of Los- tililies; and the fact is noted in Heath's Memoirs, that the proclamation was published in camp on the 19th of April, precisely eight years from the day of the battle of Lex- ington. After the proclamation was read at West Point, ihree loud cheers were giver. l,y the troops, " after which a prayer was made by the Rev. Mr. Gano, and an anthem {Independence, by Billings,) was performed by vocal and instrumental music."* • Heath's Memoirs, p. 307. 17* 198 WILLIAM HEATH. At the »lose of the war GeiuTal Heath retired to | ri- vate life, busying himself with the quiet oceupations of his farm at Roxbury. He was elected a senator and counsellor and an elector of President, and was president of the Electoral College of Massachusetts in 181 2, when the vote of the state was given to De Witt Clinton. In 1793 he was judge of probate for the county of Norfolk, and in 180G, was chosen lieutenant governor, but declined the office, and refused to be qualified. He died at his seat in Roxbury, January '24th, 1814, aged 77. General Heath was a sincere patriot, and although not a great general, was an honest and upright man. He published, in 1798, a volume entitled "Memoirs of Major-General Heath : containing Anecdotes, Details of Skirmishes, Bat- tles, and other Military Events, during the Ame^^can War, Written by Himself." The Marquis de Chastellux thus ch^scribes General Heath, in his "Travels:" "His countenance is noble and open ; and his bald heail, as well as his corpulence, give him a striking resemblance to the late Lord Granby. He writes well, and with case ; has great sensibility of mind, anil a frank and amiable character; in short, if he has not been in the way of displaying his talents in action, it may be at least asserted, that he is well adapted to the business of the cabinet During his stay at Newport, he lived honourably and in great friendship- with all the French olhcers. In the month of September, General Washington, on discovering the treason of Arnold, sent for him, aiul gave him the command of West Point, a mark of confidence the more honourable, as none but die honestest of men was proper to succeed, in this com- mand, the basest of all traitors."* • Voyages dans L'Amcriquc Septcntr. lorn. i. 78 r MAJOR-GKNKRAL JOHN THOMAS. When the measures pursued by the British government left it no lonf^er doubtful that the design was to reduce the American colonics to unconditional submission, the people began to arm and make preparation for resistance. The Provincial Congress of Massachiisetts, two months before the battle of Lexington, appointed five general officers, to command the forces which they had determined to raise. One of their number was Colonel John Thomas, who had acquired ntpucation in the French war. John Thomas was a native of Marshfield, Massachu- setts, where lie was born in 1724. After the preliminary education of a common school, he studied medicine, as pu|)il of the celebrated Dr. Cotton T'ufts, of Medford. He commenced the i)ractice of his profession in his native town, but after a few years removed to Kingston, in the same state, where he became distinguished as a success- fid [)ractitioner, and where he resided, when not connected with the army, during the residue of his life. In the year 1746 he was appointed a surgeon in one of the regiments sent to Annaj)olis Royal, and in the following year was in the medical staff of Shirley, a i)Ost which he ex changed soon after for i«hat of a lieutenant. From this position he rose, in 1759, to the rank of colonel of the provincials, and was for a time with his corps in Nova Scotia. In 1760 Governor Pownall gave him the com- mand of a regiment, with which he joined the army under General Andierst, at Crown Point. He headed the left wing of the detachment sent by General Am- herst under Colonel Haviland from Lake Champlain, m Aiigust, 1760, to co-operate with the other division of the army tnoving agai »st Montreal. He was present M>9 200 JOHN THOMAS. when \inherst was joineil by tho foroos from Quebec under General Murray, ami when Montreal suriendered, at the first summons. This event closed the Seven Years* War, during which France and England contended for the mastery of North America. From this period until the opening of the great drama of the Revolution, Colonel Thomas was engaged in the busi- ness of his prot'cssion at Kingston. When the first mut- terings of the approaching storm were heard, he enrolled himself among those who were styled the Sons of Liberty. He raised a regiment of volunteers, and on the i)th of February, 1775, was appointed a brigadier-general by the Provincial Congress. At^er the battle of Lexington, tJeneral Ward was maile commander-in-chief, with his head quar- ters at Cambridge, and Thomas wasappointeil lieutenant- general, and commanded on tiie Roxbury side, in the division nearest the Hriiish lines. The Continental Congress scxm af\er this assumed the control of the army assembled near Boston, and created officers to direct their movements. General Thomas was entitled to the rank of the first brigatlier. Ward being the only major-general assigned to Massachusetts. His claims were overlooked, anil precedence given to Pomeroy and Heath, both his juniors. He at once witlulrew from the command at Roxbury, concluding, as did the heroic •Stark on a similar occasion, that he could not with honour serve in the army under the c^^'mand of olTicers whom he had commanded. The withdrawal of GeneralThomas excited a universal feeling of regret. He was an able and experienced otficer, and greatly beloved by the troops. Many etlbrts were made to induce him to continue in the service. Appeals were presented in the strongest language to his well-known patriotism, to overlook the slight, in consiileiation of the perilous crisis which hail arrived. Letters from the Pro- vincial Congress, from the field-officers in canip at Roxbury, fron) General Lee, and from General W'^ashington himself. D O R C 11 F, S T K R H F, f G 11 T S. 201 were adflressed to General Thomas, nr^'ng hirp to con» tiriiif in the service; and at, lenf^h, 1o nrnefly the evil, Conr^ress passed a special resolution, that. G«;nerai Thomas should have precedence of all the hrigadiersin the army.* In the battle of Hunker's Hill, General Thomas trx^k no active part, although his post at Roxhury was cannonEctd during the whole day. 'i'hat post was maintained, undei the belief that the enemy would attempt to take possession of Dorchester Heights. From this time until March, 1776, he remained in command of the camp at Rox- bury. On the 4th of that month, with three thousand picked men and a sufficient supply of intrenching tools, he took possession of Dorchester Heights; and before the next morning dawned upon the scene, his works had been thrown up, presenting through the hazy atmosphere a most formidable a[jpf'Mran<'e to the astonislipfl British in Boston. Some of their officers afterwards acknowlwlged that the expedition with which these works were thrown up, their sudricn and unexpected appearance, recalled to their minds those wonderful stories of enchantment and invisible agency which are so frequent in the Eastern romances. Nothing remained for General Howe but to abandon the town or dislodge the provincials. With his usual spirit he determined upon the latter, and sent down towards the Castle a body of two thousand men to land and carry the Heights ; but a tremendous storm at night frustrated his plans. General Thomas was now reinforced with two thousand men, and General Washington soon after arrived. He addressed the soldiers in encouraging and animating terms, reminding them that it was the anni- versary of the iioston massacre, (5th of March,) a day • General Washin(?ton, in hiH letter to (^onj^rciw, of the lOtii July, day* — « General '/'liomaH Ih much c«tccrncd, and mi«t earneHtly deHired to con tiduc in llie service ; and, as far aw rny opportunities have enaOicd me to ju(]i;e, I rn.Ht join in the general opinion, that he in an able, gornl olFicer, «nd his ro^ignalirtn vould Ite a pulilir, juss." — SparlcH'x Washington, iii. 23 202 JOHN THOMAS. never to be forgotten. An engagement was expeeted, and Washington in one of his letters remarks, that he never saw better spirits or more ardour prevailing among an}/ body of troops. The enemy, however, at a council of war held that morning, had determined to evacuate the town ; and after various delays, their heavy columns em- barked on board their ships on the 17th of March, the American troops entering Boston in triumph as the retreat- ing enemy pushed from the shores. The fall of the gallant Montgomery before Quebec rendered it necessary to send an experienced officer to the command in Canada. Congress on the 6th of March promoted General Thomas to the rank of major-general, assigning to him that division. He promptly repaired to the camp, where he found the whole effective force re- duced to less than a thousand men, three hundred of whom, being entitled to a discharge, refused to do duty — the small-pox raging among the troops — and the enem} receiving reinforcements. He called a council of war on the 5th of May, when it was determined that they were not in a condition to risk an assault. The sick were re- moved to Three Rivers, and the American troops retreated from one post to another, until, by the l8th of June, they had evacuated Canada. Before reaching Chamblee, on the river Sorel, General Thomas was attacked by the small-pox, and while waiting at that place for expected reinforcements, he died, on the 2d of June, at the age of fifty-two years. Thacher, in his Military Journal, says, "he was held in universal respect and confidence as a military character, and his death is deeply deplored throughout the army." Eliot, in a note to his memoir of Sullivan, says of General Thomas, that "he was one of the best officers in the army of 1775. A more brave, beloved, and distinguished character did not go into the field, nor was there a man that made a greater sacrifice of his own ease, health, and social enjoyments.*' BRTGADIER-GENERAL GEORGE CLINTON, Few names have been more distinguislied in the annals of New York than that of Clinton. The ancestor of the family who first settled on these shores was James the son of William Clinton, who, being an adherent of Charles I., took refuge in the county of Longford, Ireland, on the execution of that monarch. James, the son, found an easier way of escape from the popular fury, by espousing the daughter of a captain in Cromwell's army. He was the father of Charles, the immediate ancestor of the Ame- rican family, who was born in 1690, and emigrated to this country in 1729. It has been said that, in addition to the perils of a passage which occupied nearly five months, the captain had formed the design of starving the passengers, in order to seize upon their property. The plan was frustrated by a timely discovery, and the pas- sengers safely landed at Cape Cod. Here Clinton re- mained until 1731, when he removed to Ulster county in New York. He was made judge of the county court, and in 1756 was appointed lieutenant-colonel, under Delaney At the head of his regiment, under General Bradstreet, in 1757, he assisted in the capture of Fort Frontenac at the mouth of Lake Ontario. He died at his residence in Ulster, now Orange Coimty, November 19, 1773, aged 82. He is mentioned as a tall, graceful, and dignified person, of commanding abilities and great private virtues. Of his four sons, Alexander, a graduate at Princeton in 1750, was a physician ; Charles, a surgeon in the British army, was at the taking of Hav^ana in 1762 ; James was a bri- gadier-general in the American Revolution, and George, vice-president of the United States. Geobge Clinton, the youngest son of Charles Clintoo, 203 204 GEORGE CLINTON. was born on the 26th of July, 1739. In his education his father was assisted by Daniel Thain, a minister from Scot- land. In early life he evinced the enterprise which dis- tinguished him in after years. He once left his father's house and sailed in a privateer. On his return he accom- panied as a lieutenant his brother James, in the expedition against Fort Frontenac, now Kingston. Thus his early education to arms prepared him, like the great Virginian, for the scenes in which they were destined to act so im- portant a part. The war in America terminated in 1760, by the conquest of Canada, and young Clinton laying by his sword applied to the study of the law, under the direction of William Smith, one of the most able advo- cates who had ever adorned the bar of New York. He then settled in his native county, where the royal governor, George Clinton, acknowledging a remote consanguinity, had given him a life-estate in a clerkship. He practised with reputation, and 'was chosen a representative to the colonial assembly, of which he continued to be an active and useful member, steadily opposing every attempt to seduce or overawe that body into a compliance with the views of the British government hostile to the liberty of America. Thus, before the controversy grew up into a war, he had studied mankind, both in books and in the world, both in the closet and in the camp ; and practically knew what reliance is to be placed on reason ; what resource can be derived from hope and fear: but in reading the sacred volumes of our laws he had nourished his soul with the principles of liberty, and learned to estimate at their just value those rights on the defence of which we staked our all. "We felt," said Gouverneur Morris, in his funera oration on the death of Clinton, <' our cause to be just, and we placed it in the hands of Omnipotence. Such was the firm resolve of that first Congress, whose memory «vill be sacred and immortal. Such too the perjseveiing DEFENCE OF THE HIGHLANDS. 203 determination of their successors, among whom, on the 15th of May, 1775, George Clinton took his seat. On the 8th of July the members then present signed their last petition to his Britannic majesty." Mr. Clinton was present and voted for the Declaration of Independence, July 4, 1776 ; but in consequence of the invasion of New York by the enemy, and the internal excitement and trouble caused by the loyalists, he was suddenly called home before the instrument was ready for the signature of the members, and his name is not attached to it. "He had an aversion," says Morris, < ypel Hudson long enough to make a useful diversion \n favour of Burgoyne. That vaunting chief was, there- fore, left to his fate, and thus the obstacles opposed in the Highlands shed a propitious influence on that Northen. campaign, the brilliant issue of which at Saratoga arrayed in our defence the armies of France. The situation of the state of New York during the wai required the exercise of every power of the mind and every energy of tlie heart. The ravages and miseries which only occasionally visited other parts of the Union had hero their permanent abode. Moje than one half of the territory was in possession of, or was laid open to the enemy, whose immediate policy it was to acquire the remainder ; and a large proportion of the inhabitants nd retired to his estate in Orange county, with the view of enjoying that tranquillity which was now called for by a long period of privation and fatigue, and that honout which was a due reward of the important services be 21S EBENEZER LARNED had rendered. After his retirement he wai still frequently called upon for the performance of civil duties — at one period othciating as a commissioner, to adjust the bound- ary line between Pennsylvania and New York ; at another, employed by the legislature to settle controversies rela- tive to the western territories of the state ; and at different periods, serving as a delegate to the assembly, a member of the convention for the adoption of the federal Consti- tution, and afterwards a senator from the middle district in the New York legislature, to which oiRce he was elected without opposition. All these various trusts he executed with integrity, ability, and the entire approbation of his constituents and the public. He died at his residence in Orange county, on the 22d of September, lSl-2, the same year that terminated the valuable and eventful life of his venerable brother George : " par nobile fratrum." In the concluding language of the inscription upon his monumental slone, ''Performing in the most exemplary manner all the duties of life, he died as he lived, without fear and without reproach." BRIGADIER-GENERAL EBENEZER LARNED. This officer commanded a regiment of the Massachu- jetts militia, and was engaged in active service from the commencement of hostilities until the spring of 1776. After the army removed to New York he became afflicted with disease, and in May of that year requested permis- sion to retire from the service. He expressed his most fervent wishes for the success of the great struggle for freedom, and deeply regretted that the nature of his in- firmities almost forbade the hope of his being able to return to the field. Congress, in 1777, appointed him a brigadier-general, and, his health gradually sinking, some- time after granted him permission to leave tlie army. M.yOR-GENERAL MARQUIS DE LAFAYETTE. It has been asserted, with how much truth can only be judged of by those experienced in the mysteries of human nature, that love of equality is inherent in every breast. We doubt it. Love of power rnay be, and is. No man in this, or in any other country, if he form not a rare exception, is willing to be inferior to his neighbour, unless that neighbour's superiority is dependent upon na- tural gifts, or the accident of circumstances beyond his emulation or control. It is this accident of birih, the established forms and ranks of the European monarchies, acknowledged by all, and felt to be a necessary concomi- tant of such governments, which keeps the lower orders of society tranquil, and, so far as rank is concerned, con tented. When elevated positions are beyond the aspira- tion of the lower classes, they seek contentment in that sphere in which they have been born. In this country, no distinction of classes being acknowledged, every one as- pires to be first. That such aspirations produce remark- able results, and bring into play the utmost energies of a people, cannot be doubted ; but how far they contribute to contentment, and to the morale of a people, is a question yet to be solved. When then we see a roan born to the highest rank in a government — a rank claiming and receiving the acknow- ledgment of superiority — possessed of wealth which would insure him position even without his nobility of title, and in the full vigour of youth, capable of enjoying all the luxuries and pleasures that an elevated position and riches could j)rocure ; when we see such a man devote his mind, wea'th and energeis, to the development of an idea, to 213 21i MARQUIS DE LAFAYETTE. the struggle of a principle, which is to establish the riglit from the wrong, well knowing thai the victory, if gained, must tend to deprive him in a measure of the advantajjes he p()ssesses over the greater portion of his fellow beings, we may well call him great. Such a man was Gilbert Mottier, Martjuis de Lafayette. Lafayette was born at Chavaniac, in the ancient pro- vince of Auvergne, on the sixth of September, 1757. He was of a family the most ancient in France, of the highest rank among its nobility. His ancestors for three centuries had occupied distinguished posts of honour and respecta- bility. His father fell at the battle of Minden, during the seven years' war. He lost his mother soon after, and thus became an orphan at an early age. He was the heir to an immense estate, and but for his peculiar strength of mind must have fallen a victim to the numberless allurements that aboun*ded in the most luxurious, fascinating and dissi- pated of the capitals of Europe. Perhaps his early marriage may have contributed in no slight degree to shield him from the temptations that surrounded him. He was edu- cated at the military college of Duplessis, in Paris, and soon after the completion of his studies there, at the early age of sixteen, was united in matrimony to the daughter of the Duke d'Ayen, of the Noailles family, a lady even younger than himself, and who espoused the fortunes and cause in which her liege lord had enlisted, with all the ardour and devotion of an angel, making herself the worthy companion of such a man, avid the sharer of his name and glory. The profession of arms was the one adopted by most of his associates, there being at that time but two roads to distinction open : the one that of the mi- litary [irofession, the oiher that of the courtier. Although offered a prominent position in the royal household he declined the office, choosing the sword of the camp to ti\e velvet-covered rapier of the palace. At the age of nineteen he was already captain of di3- INTEREST FELT FOR THE COLONIES. 215 goons in the regiment to which he was attached, and was Btationed at Metz, a garrisoned town of France. Soon after the declaration of independence by the American colonies, during the summer months of 1776, the duke of Gloucester, brother to (he king of England, happened to make a visit to Metz. A grand entertainment was given to him by the commandant. To this many officers were invited, one of whom was Lafayette. At the dinner the duke made mention of news he had just received from England relative to the American colonies, and among other things, announced their declaration of indepen- dence. Interested in such an event, especially as Europe had regarded the struggle of these colonies more a? a tu- multuous rebellion than an attempt for liberty, Lafayette made many inquiries to satisfy himself of the true charac- ter of this war, and probably then determined to know yet more of the startling effort made by a distant people to gain their freedom. His investigations were satisfactory. He saw in the Revolution a noble determination on the part of an oppressed people to shake offthe yoke of tyranny, and his heart warmed with the thought of assisting in such a cause. He proceeded to Paris. He confided his plans to two young friends, officers like himself, Count Segur and Viscount de Noailles, who at once consented to join him ; but they were obliged to abandon the undertaking, their families being unwilling that they should leave France. An orphan, he had no controller of his actions ; he wa? master of his own movements, and possessed the fortune to execute his desires. He consulted other and expe- rienced friends, but met nowhere with encouragement. On the contrary, every one endeavoured to dissuade him from so rash a project, as they considered it. At last he met with Baron de Kalb, an officer of some distmclion, vho was himself enlisted in the cause of the colonies, 216 MARQUIS DE LAFAYETTE. which he a few years before had visited in the service of the ministry. With the aid of De Kalb, Lafayette was introduced to Silas Deane, then in France as agent of the United States. The truthful picture of the state of our affairs, given by this gentleman, had not the effect of lessening Lafayette's enthusiasm for the cause. On perceiving this, Mr. Deane engaged him for the American service, with the rank of major-general, and he had already taken passage in a vessel about to be despatched to the United States, when the news reached France of the unhappy results of the campaign of 1776. This intelligence spread a gloom over all the friends of the colonies. The project of send- ing the vessel, laden with stores and ammunition, was abandoned. The cause assumed a hopeless aspect, and every one who knew of Lafayette's intention endeavoured to dissuade him from the enterprise. Dr. Franklin and Arthur Lee had in the mean time joined Silas Deane as commissioners, and even these gentlemen refused to en- courage him in going to the United States. But the gal- lant young soldier replied, " My zeal and love of liberty have perhaps hitherto been the prevailing influences with me, but now I see a chance of usefulness which I had not anticipated. These supplies, I know, are greatly wanted by Congress. I have money; I will purchase a vessel to convey them to America ; and in this vessel my com panions and myself will take nassage." And he purchased this vessel, and sailed from France to give his aid to a people too poor to offer him even - HONOURS BESTOWED ON HiM. 257 quests were yielded with a rapidity nearly as great as that with which they had been made. In the completion of their conquests, and under the influence of public opinion, the conquerors could afford to be generous. Paul the First gave their freedom to the noble captives whom Catharine had cast into her dun- geons. He distinguished Kosciuszko by marks of esteem, which the latter could scarcely acknowledge though unable to reject them. The emperor presented his own sword to the hero ; but Kosciuszko declined accepting it, saying, that "he who no longer had a country, no longer had need of a weapon." From that moment he never again wore a sword. Paul would have forced on him gifts of value, but he declined them, resolute on exile only. He made his way to France, next to England, and again to America, From the latter country, he enjoyed a pension, and here, as in France and England, his reception was grateful to his pride, and honourable to the sense of merit in the nation. But the heart of the exile was ill at ease, and troubled with a sleepless discontent. In 1798, he left America for France, His countrymen in the French army of Italy presented him with the sword of the great John Sobieski. Napoleon would have flattered him with the idea of restoring the independence of Poland ; but he who had appreciated the ideal of a true lover of liberty in a Washington, was not to be deluded by vain shows of it under the illusive delineations of a Bona- parte, It was in vain that every effort was tried to make him exert himself, in provoking, among the Poles, an enthusiasm in behalf of the French, He well saw that nothing could be hoped for his country from such a source, and resolutely continued silent. His name was used in an appeal to his countrymen which appeared in the "JV/om'/ewr," and which he denounced as spurious. Having purchased an estate near Fontainbleau, he lived in retirement till 1814. In this year he appealed to 22* R 258 THADDEUS KOSCIUSZKO. the Emppror Alexander to grant an amnesty to the Poles who were in foreign lands, and to give to the country a free constitution like that of England. In 1815 he travelled in Italy, and settled at Soleure in Switzerland, the year after. His life was now spent in retirement. His cares were those of agriculture, which was now his favourite occupation. A fall from his horse, over a precipice near Vevay, occasioned his death on the 16th of October, 1817. In 1818, the Emperor Alexander had his body removed, and at the request of the Senate it was deposited in the tombs of the Kings at Cracow. Kosciuszko was faithful to his first romantic attachment. He was never married. From the moment that he ceased to hope for his affections, he began to live for his country. "Ah !" said he, to one who spoke of his few subjects of consolation, "Ah! sir, he who would live for his country, must not look for his rewards while he lives himself!" He was one of those noble and humane spirits which honour the best conceptions of chivalry. BRIG. GENERAL MARQUIS DE LA ROUERIE. Armand Tufin, Marquis de la Rouerie, was a Breton, and entered at an early age into the regiment of French guards. His story is in many respects a romantic one. After some years of service, he became enamoured of a beautiful actress, and in the warmth of his passion offered her marriage. The family interposing to prevent the alliance, he escaped, and shut himself up in the monas- tery of La Trappe, They now sought to overpower his passion of love, by opposing that of glory in arms. The Bevolation in America had commenced, and tlie fame of Washington was spreading throughout France, A held was opened in which to acquire glory, as well as to ic MILITARY SERVICES. 259 dulge the national antipathy to England. Arraand sailed from Nantes, in 1776, in an American schooner, sent out by Dr. Franklin with despatches for the American Con- gress, then sitting at Philadelphia. Arriving at the mouth of the Delaware, the schooner was surrounded by three Enghsh ships of war. Her commander formed the des- perate resolution of blowing up the vessel, and requested Armand to deliver the despatches in safety, which he promptly undertook to do, jumping into a boat, and attempting to pass through the British vessels. A shot from one of the British ships carried down his boat, but Armand saved himself by swimming, and reached the shore just as the schooner blew up. He travelled one hundred miles on foot to Philadelphia, delivered his despatches, and on the 10th of May was appointed a colonel in the American army. At his own request, he was commissioned to raise a partisan corps of French- men, not to exceed two hundred in number. It was sup- posed that some advantage would result from bringing together in one body such soldiers as did not understand the English language. General Lafayette, in giving an account to General Washington of his march into New Jersey under Greene, mentions Colonel Armand as having been with him in a successful attack upon the picket of the enemy. He was with General Sullivan's division until the summer of 1779, when his corps was assigned to the command of Genera] Howe. In 1780 it was incorporated with the Pulaski battalion. The commander-in-chief then gave him a cer- tificate, stating "that the Marquis de la Rouerie has served in the army of the United States since the beginning of 1777, with the rank of colonel, during which time he has commanded an independent corps, with much honour to himself and usefulness to the service. He has upon all occasions conducted himself as an officer of distinguished merit, of great zeal, activity, vigilance, intelligence, and ARMAND TUFIN. bra-very. In the last campaign, particularly, he rendered very valuable services, and towards the close of it made a brilliant partisan stroke, by which with much enterprise and address, he surprised a major and some men of the enemy in quarters, at a considerable distance within their pickets, and brought them off without loss to his party. I give this certificate in testimony of my perfect appro- bation of his conduct, and esteem for himself personally." In submitting to Congress his remarks on a new organization of the army, in 1780, General Washington recommends that the partisan corps of Colonel Armand should be kept up. " He is an officer," he observes, <'of great merit, which, added to his being a foreigner, to his rank in life, and to the sacrifices of property he has made, render it a point of delicacy as well as justice to continue to him the means of serving honourably." Although enjoying the entire confidence of the chief, Armand was offended at the delay of Congress in his promotion, and in February, 1781, he determined on a visit to France. On this occasion. General Washington gave him letters of recommendation to some of the most distinguished men in Paris. He did not, however, con- template an abandonment of the American cause ; on the contrary, he made it his business to procure while absent, clothes, ammunition and accoutrements for his corps, which in the mean time was withdrawn from the service, for discipline and equipment. Colonel Armand returned from France and joined the army before the siege of Yorktown. He was in February, 1782, directed to report himself to General Greene, in the southern department. In March, 1783, General W^ashington called the atten- tion of Congress to Colonel Armand's character, and urged his promotion. He had shown an earnest and constant zeal throughout the war, and the application had Its just efTect. Armand was on the 26th of that monil. PROCEEDINGS IN FRANCE. 261 promoted to the rank of brigadier-general. When he left the service, at the close of the war, General Washington took occasion to recommend him in the warmest terms to the Count de Rochambeau for promotion in France. He returned to Bretagne cured of his youthful passion, and soon after married a lady of family and fortune suited to his rank. In 1788 the minister of war gave him the appointment of a colonel of chasseurs. The Archbishop of Sens began to effect a scheme of suppressing Parlia- ments. The marquis remembered that he had been a gen- tleman before he had been a soldier ; that he was a French- man, because he was a Breton, and he threw up his commission and appeared among his countrymen. He attended the assembly at Vannes, when the twelve depu- ties were chosen, was selected to be one of them, and was afterwards confined in the Bastile, with his col- leagues. On his triumphant return to Bretagne, he pro- posed an oath, which bound the nobility to permit no innovation of the rights and privileges of the province, and was the chief means of confirming them in their resistance to the revolutionists. The province con- tinued to be quiet while Paris was agitated with convul- sions, until 1791, when the marquis, with a generous enthusiasm, hazarded his life and fortune in the formation of a league for the defence of the monarchy and old institutions. The limits of this work will not permit us to follow him through the intricacies of his political life, and we can only add that all his efforts resulted in disaster, and that ha himself was saved from the guillotine on which his friends suffered, by the quick action of a disease Induced by his anxieties and labour* (A? MAJOR-GENERAL DUPORTAIL. Congress having sent instructions to their commis- sioners in Paris to procure a few good engineers, they engaged four who had held commissions in the French army, namely, the Chevaliers Duportail, Laumoy, Radiere and Gouvion. These officers came to the United States with the knowledge and approbation of the French go- vernment, and were the only ones engaged by the express authority of Congress. The contract made between them and the commissioners was confirmed, and Duportail was appointed colonel of engineers, Laumoy and Radiere, lieutenant-colonels, and Gouvion a major. In November, 1777, Duportail was appointed a brigadier-general. When the question of an immediate attack on Phila- delphia was submitted to the council of officers on the 24th of November, 1777, Duportail, Greene, Sullivan and others opposed the project, and the reasons they offered were such as induced General Washington to abandon it. Duportail was with the army at Valley Forge during the gloomy winter of 1777-8. After the battle of Mon- mouth, the enemy having left Philadelphia, he was sent by the commander-in-chief to ascertain what defences would be necessary to its security, and to plan fortifica- tions for the Delaware. He was soon after despatched to the Hudson, and drew up a memorial in relation to the defences at Fort Clinton which was approved by Wash- ington, and was directed with Colonel Kosciuszko to com- plete the works at that point. He was also sent in Octo- ber to Boston, to take measures for the security of that city and of the French fleet against an apprehended attack. In October, 1779, we find General Duportail, in com- pany with Colonel Hamilton, charged with confidentiu) 202 CAPTURE AT CHARLESTON. 263 despatches to Count d'Estaing, relative to a co-operation of the army and the French fleet. M. Gerard, the French minister, had held several conferences with a committee of Congress respecting a concerted plan of action between the French squadron and the American forces. For the same object M. Gerard visited the camp and held inter- views with the commander-in-chief, to whom Congress delegated the power of arranging and executing the whole business in such a manner as his judgment and prudence should dictate. Various plans were suggested and partly matured, but the unfortunate repulse of the French and American troops from Savannah and the subsequent departure of d'Estaing from the coast, pre- vented their being carried into execution. Having waited several weeks for the expected arrival of the -fleet in the Delaware, General Duportail was ordered by Washington to return to the camp at Morris- town. He was now directed to survey all the grounds in the environs of the encampment, with a view to deter- mine on the points to be occupied in case of any move- ment of the enemy. The engagement of General Duportail having expired, Congress in January, 1780, at the instance of General Washington, voted to retain him during the war, together with the other French officers engaged by Franklin and Deane, if it should be consistent with their inclination and duty. In March he was sent to join the southern army under General Lincoln, at Charleston, and Wash- ington thus speaks of him in his letter to that commander: "From the experience I have had of this gentleman, 1 recommend him to your particular confidence. You will find him able in the branch he professes ; of a clear and comprehensive judgment, of extensive military science; and of great zeal, assiduity, and bravery; in short, I am persuaded you will find him a most valuable acquisition, and will avail yourself effectually of his services. You 264 CHEVALIER DUPOBTAIL cannot employ him too much on every important occasion/' Here he was captured by the enemy during the summer, but immediate efforts were made by Congress and the com- mander-in-chief to effect his release, and with General Lin- ''oln and others he was exchanged in the month of October. In August, 1781, the contemplated enterprise against New York having been given up, with a view of attempt- ing to retrieve the disasters of the last campaign in the south. General Duportail was sent with despatches to the Count de Grasse, and was with Washington at the inter- view with the French admiral, off Cape Henry, on the 18th of September. In October he applied for six months' furlough to visit his native country, and also begged of General Washington to encourage his application for pro- motion to the rank of major-general. The furlough was at once accorded ; but in reference to the promotion, the chief answered, that " the infringement of the rights of seniority in so many individuals, and the pretensions of some who had particular claims upon the country, con- vinced him that his desires could not be accomplished but at the expense of the tranquillity of the army." In reply, General Duportail said that he was fully aware of the difficulties there stated, that it was not his desire or intention to interfere with the claims of other officers, but he considered his case a peculiar one. He had come to America at the request of Congress, and served during the whole war, and had thus thrown himself out of the line of promotion in France. He requested that the commander-in-chief would not at any rate oppose his application to Congress. General Washington imme- diately transmitted his letter to Congress, and warmly seconded his application. On the 16th of November, 1781, he was appointed major-general. On his departure, he was favoured by Washington with a letter expressive of the warm attachment he felt for him personally, and his appreciation of his high military merits and services. BRIGADIER-GENERAL ROCHE DE FERMOY. Chevalier Matthias Alexis Roche de Fermoy had boen several years an officer of merit in the French en- gineers, when Congress, on the 4th November, 1776, appointed him a brigadier-general, and, after remaining for a time in the camp of Washington, he was ordered to join the army of the north under General Gates. Here he made himself useful during the campaign which fol- lowed. In the winter of 1777, he applied to Congress to be raised to the rank of major-general, a request which that body very promptly declined. Displeased at this decision, General Fermoy requested permission to retire, and in January following, he had leave to return to France. As a mark of respect. Congress appropriated money to pay his debts, and to defray his expenses to the West Indies. BRIGADIER-GENERAL WILLIAM MAXWELL. William Maxwell entered the army as colonel of one of the New Jersey regiments, with which he served in the disastrous campaign of 1776, in Canada; and he was one of the remonstrants against the decision of the council of officers held on the 7th of July in that year, to abandon Crown Point. On the 23d of October, 1776, he was appointed a brigadier-general, and for some time after was employed in New Jersey. He commanded the New Jersey brigade in the battles of Brandywine and Gtrmantown, and in harassing the enemy on theii retreat through New Jersey, after the evacuation of Philadelphia. Soon after the action at Springfield, on the 23d of June, 1780, he sent in his resignation, which was accepted by Congress on the 25th of the following month. Vol. TT. 23 2fi5 MAJOR-GENERAL THOMAS CONWAY. Thomas CoNW A. Y, knight of the order of St. Louis was a native of Ireland, and when six years of age, was taken by nis parents to France, where he was educated, and rose to the rank of colonel in the French service. Having formed the design to enter the American army, he was engaged by the agent of our government in Paris, and on account of his experience was promised the rank of adjutant or brigadier-general. He landed in Boston early in 1777, with an empty purse, and General Heath advanced him money to defray his expenses to head-quarters. Arriving at Morristown, he exhibited his papers to the commander-in-chief, who interested himself in his behalf, and on the 13th of the following May he was appointed by Congress a brigadier- general, and four regiments of Pennsylvania troops in Lord Stirling's division were assigned to his command. He was in the battle of Germantown, and by some writers is said to have conducted himself gallantly there, but his character was already understood by Washington who perceived that he sought rather his own promotion than the good of the country or the honour of the service. When, therefore, Conway urged his friends to secure for him the rank of major-general, Washington opposed it, as unjust to other officers of equal or superior merit. An intrigue against the commander-in-chief was now set on foot, in which Conway bore a conspicuous part. The declaration from a letter written by him to General Gates, that << Heaven had been determined to save your country, or a weak general and bad counsellors would have ruined it," came to the knowledge of Washington, 2fifi THE CONWAY CABAL. 267 ^no he immediately enclosed it to General Conway, who, a few days after, tendered his resignation, which was not, however, accepted by Congress. On the contrary, he was but a month afterwards elected inspector-general of the army with the rank of major-general. This showed that a majority of Congress was unfriendly to the chief, since the intrigues of Conway were well kcnown in that assembly. Washington's views had been very pointedly expressed in a letter to Richard Henry Lee, dated the 17th of November. After alluding to a report that Conway was to be appointed major-general, he observes, " It will be as unfortunate a measure as ever was adopted ; I may add, and I think with truth, that it will give a fatal blow to the existence of the army." Nevertheless the appointment was made. Dr. Rush, Generals Gates and Mifflin, and others, were concerned in this cabal, the object of which was to supersede Washington and elevate themselves to the chief places in the army. The designs of the faction, however, were soon frustrated. After the Canada expedition had been abandoned, Conway was directed to join the army under General McDougall at Fishkill, and was ere long ordered again to Albany, upon which he wrote a petulant letter to Congress, complaining of ill-treatment, and asking an acceptance of his resignation. The tone of his communi- cation was such as his best friends could not excuse. His character was at length thoroughly developed even to their apprehension, and a motion to accept his resig- nation was immediately carried. When advised of this, he expressed great astonishment, said it was not his ntention to resign, and that his meaning had been mis- understood. He proceeded immediately to Yorktown, (where Congress was in session,) and claimed to be restored ; but the tide had changed, and his explanation and request were equally unavailing. When Philadelphia was evacuated by *he British he 268 THOMAS CONWAY. repaired to that city, where his free speech and ofTensive manners soon involved him in difficulties with the Ameri- can officers, and on the 4th of July, in that year, he fought a duel with General Cadwalader, one of the bravest and most accomplished gentlemen of the time, whose ball j^assed through Conway's mouth and the upper part of his neck, making a wound which for a time was supposed to be mortal. The immediate cause of the duel is generally understood to have been some observations respecting Washington, to whom, after lin- gering several days, he wrote the following letter : — a Philadelphia, 23d July, 1778. "Sir: — I find myself just able to hold the pen during a few minutes ; and take this opportunity of expressing my sincere grief for having done, written, or said any thing disagreeable to your excellency. My career will soon be over ; therefore justice and truth prompt me to declare my last sentiments. You are in my eyes a great and good man. May you long enjoy the love, venera- tion, and esteem of these States, whose liberties you have asserted by your virtues. I am, with the greatest respect, &c. Thomas Conway." This voluntary confession, whether proceeding from the reproaches of conscience or a lingering sentiment of justice, may perhaps be considered a reparation for the personal injuries he had done the commander-in- chief, but it will not efface the memory of his attempts to sow those seeds of faction, which threatened the safety and even the existence of the republic. Contrary to his own and his surgeon's expectation he recovered from his wound ; but, deserted by his former friends, deprived of his rank in the army, and treated by the public with un- disguised contempt and indignation, nothing was left for him but to leave the country. Before the end of the yeai he sailed for France, where he soon after died. MAJOR-GENERAL BARON DE KALB. When Lafayette left his luxurious home to join in the fttruggle of oppressed Americans, he was accompanied by- Baron De Kalb, then a brigadier-geaeral in the French army. Baron De Kalb was a German by birth, but liad gained the name of a brave and meritorious officer in the armies of France, and was a knight of the order of military merit. On his arrival in this country, he proffered his services to Congress, His reputation and valour were known, and his aid was gliidly accepted. He was at once appointed to the office of major-general, in which capacity he joined the main army, and at the head of the Maryland division rendered essential services to the cause he es- poused. He was deservedly loved and esteemed. Of athletic frame and robust constitution, he seemed formed for the hardships of war, and for encountering the toils of our then rude and toilsome campaigns. He could not boast of any especial excellence in mental acquire- ments, but he possessed a talent and a knowledge of greater use to the soldier: the talent of reading men and the knowledge of human nature. His habits of close in- vestigation had secured these valuable powers, which he knew well how to apply. His modes of life were exceedingly temperate : he drank nothing but water, and was alike abstemious with his food, often living on beef-soup and bread, at other times contented with a short allowance of cold meat. He was industrious : he rose at early dawn in summer, and be- fore day in winter, and devoted himself to writing, in which occupation his hurried meals and his military duties alone disturbed him. The world has not been favoured with the fruits of all these labours. 23* 269 270 BARON D E K A L B. He won the hearts of all who knew him by his simpli- city of manner and amiable disposition, and secured the confidence and esteem of every one by the ingenuousness of his character. He served in the American army gallantly and faithfully during three years, and closed his career on the 19th of August, 1780, in the forty-eighth year of his age, having been severely and fatally wounded on the sixteenth of that month at the battle of Camden in South Carolina. This last effort of his military career was as brilliant and daring as any that graces historical annals. He commanded the right wing of the American army. In the commencement of this action, the American left wing was charged by the British infantry with fixed bayonets. This part of our army was composed of militia, who were unable to stand the attack, and threw down their arms, flying, precipitately from the field. How different the behaviour of the right wing! The continental troops here, though inferior in numbers to the British, stood their ground manfully, and maintained the conflict with great resolution. The British had the advantage of superior cavalry, and notwithstand- ing the brave example of De Kalb, who encouraged his men not only in words but by his deeds, they succeeded in gaining the day. It was a severe blow to the Americans, who lost their entire artillery, eight field-pieces and two hundred wagons, together with the greater part of their baggage. But the saddest loss was sustained in the death of the gallant De Kalb. In his last attempt to secure a viclory, he received eleven wounds and fell. He was caught by his noble aid-de-camp, Lieutenant-Colonel Du Buysson, who rushed through the clashing bayonets, and spreading his own form over that of the prostrate hero, received the wounds intended for his fallen commander, exclaiming as he fell beside him : «' Save the Baron De Kalb ! Save the Baron De Kalb !" On hearing his name, the British officers interposed and rescued tlem both from LAST HOURS OF DE KALB. 271 the farther fury of their men. De Kalb and Du Buysson were both taken prisoners ; the former survived but a few hours. The British officer who had taken him in charge bestowed upon him every attention. As he condoled with him in his misfortune, De Kalb extended him his hand in gratitude, saying: "I thank you for your generous sym- pathy, but I die the death I always prayed for : the death of a soldier fighting for the rights of man." His last hours were employed in prosecuting the duties of his station. He dictated a letter to General Small wood, who succeeded to the command of his division. This letter is characteristic of the noble heart of him who sac- rificed himself to the great cause of liberty ; it breathes a sincere affection for his officers and men ; it expresses his high admiration for the valour they evinced in the last, though unsuccessful effort of the battle ; it recites the e:dogy their bravery had extorted from their enemies, and concludes with the testimonials of his own gratitude and delight for their gallant support in the final conflict which cost him his life. When he felt the chilly touch of death approaching, he extended his quivering hand to the Cheva- lier Du Buysson, his loved friend, now stretched beside him, covered with wounds received in the generous effort to rescue his commander's life, and breathed to him his last benedictions upon his faithful division. He sank calmly into eternity, lamented and esteemed by friend and foe. Many years after his death, General Washington, when at Camden, inquired for his grave. After gazing upon it for some time, he breathed a sigh, and with an expres- sion indicative of the thoughts passing in his mind, ex- claimed : " So, there lies the brave De Kalb ; the gene- rous stranger who came from a distant land to fight oui battles, and to water with his blood the tree of our liberty Would to God he had lived to share its fruits ." BRIGADIER-GENERAL C. GADSDEN. Christopher Gadsden, of South Carolina, was one of the few patriots, whose prescience, extending far beyond the ordinary range of human vision, beheld in the distance the real necessities of America ; and, while the great ma- jority demanded nothing more at first from Great Britain than a redress of temporary grievances, foresaw that nothing less than absolute independence in the end could satisfy the wants or subserve the rights and safety of the colonies. That we have not an elaborate life of this dis- tinguished man, carefully derived from his own papers and vvriiings, is sadly illustrative of that neglect with regard to our historical resources which has marked our career. We cannot hope, in the brief limits of the present biography, to amend these deficiencies in regard to our subject. We can at best furnish a few brief heads, upon which the un- embarrassed admirer may dilate and expatiate hereafter. Christopher Gadsden was born in Charleston, South Carolina, in 1724. His father was Thomas Gadsden, a king's collector, and lieutenant in the British navy. Chris- topher received his education in England, where he ac- quired the classics. Late in life he studied the Hebrew, and made some progress in the oriental languages. At the age of sixteen he returned from Europe, and was placed in a counting-house in Philadelphia. Here he acquired habits of business, and was confirmed in the strictness of method and inflexibleness of resolve by which, in after periods, his character was particularly dis- tinguished. At the age of twenty-one he revisited Eng- 272 CHEROKEE EXTEDITION. 273 land. Returning thence to Carolina as a passenger m a raan-of-war, the office of purser was tendered him, on the sudden death of the incumbent. Accepting the appoint- ment, he continued in it for two years, when he Jeft the navy to engage in commerce. Subsequently he be- came a planter, and finally a factor. These several pui- suits were all urged with the most sustained earnestness. It was the nature of Mr. Gadsden to do thoroughly, and with his whole soul, whatever he undertook. He set out in life with certain fixed principles, as well of actions as of morals, to which he adhered steadily throughout his whole career. In his youthful associates he was fortunate. One of these was the no less distinguished Henry Laurens, also of South Carolina, afterwards President of Congress. These young men were equally attached to each other by modes of thinking and by natural sympathies. They strengthened each other by mutual resolves and mutual counsels; abjured together the soul- wasting pursuits of other young men ; and, by the proper adoption of a few well-conceived rules of conduct, to which they held tena- ciously, they succeeded in the formation of virtuous habits, and of firm, well-constructed characters. Mr. Gadsden soon showed himself active in public as well as private affairs. In 1759, he was in the expedition, with many of the high-spirited young men of the country, against the Cherokee Indians, at the call of Governor Lyttleton. On this occasion he organized an artillery company, of which he was made captain ; and was the first to introduce a piece of field-artillery into the colony. In this corps we find the nucleus of a battalion, afterwards called the " Ancient Battalion," which acquired a local celebrity by subsequent good conduct, on various battle- fields, which still graciously surrounds its name. The company of Captain Gadsden soon proved its usefulness, and acquired an early popularity. The expedition of Governor Lyttleton, undertaken with many disadvan- S 274 CHBISTOPHER GADSDEN, tages, did not terminate satisfactorily. It was an evasion of the danger only, and needed other and more decisive proceedings to subdue the hostile Indians to a just sense of respect and forbearance. But the result w^as favourable ^o the popularity of Gadsden ; and, without such details as would enable us to say, at this moment, by what means ie acquired the increasing confidence and admiration of fiis associates, it is enough to know, for a certainty, that such were his acquisitions. Mr. Gadsden soon showed himself far in advance of most of his contemporaries, in regard to the relations which existed between the colonies and the mother coun- try. His feelings were those of a republican, and they influenced very considerably the direction of his thoughts. He felt — even before he saw — how inconsistent with the rights and safety of America were the demands and exac- tions of Great Britain ; and was among the first to con- ceive the absurdity of a great and growing nation being governed by a people who were ihree thousand miles away. Such a government not only implied a total want of capacity and energy to meet emergencies, but led to another discreditable implication against the mind of the native, which was quite as ofTensive to his self-esteem as it was injurious to his rights. At this early period, and long before Thomas Paine wrote on the subject, Mr. Gads- den had delivered himself of sound and excursive views in regard to the rights of man and the representative system. Tenacious, in a high degree, of his personal rights, he was not less so of those which belonged to his country ; and, in debate and by his writings, he attempted, at a very early period, to indoctrinate his contemporaries with his convictions. There were few, at the beginning, to see and speak with his boldness and independence. Ramsay says, " he would have been another Hampdeti in the days of King Charles." As a speaker, he was equally Slow and fiery. His soul seemed impatient of the frigii^ity ADVOCATES A GENERAL CONGRESS. 275 and reluctance of his tongue. But his good sense, his un- doubted honesty, his zeal and independence, amply com- pensated for all defects of eloquence. Josiah Quincy the younger, who visited Carolina for his health in 1773, heard him speak in the provincial House of Assembly, at that period, and, in a single sentence, gives us a some- what striking description of his manner: "Mr. Gadsden was plain, blunt, hot, and incorrect ; though very sensible. In the course of the debate, he used these very singular expressions . for a member of parliament: — <■ And^ Mr. Speaker^ if the governor and council donH see Jit to fall in with us, I say, let the general duty law, and all, go to the devil, sir; and we go about our business.^ " Frankness, fearlessness, honesty, and the most sterling common sense, were the chief characteristics of his mind. In the colonial House of Assembly he was a member from Charleston at a very early period ; always active, and always to the in- crease of his influence. The encroachments of the British provoked hira to utterance long before the passage of the Stamp Act. When, in 1765, the project was conceived of a general congress in America, he was the most eager and urgent advocate for the measure. He was made one of its first delegates from South Carolina, and, taking his ground as an American, in the more extensive meaning of the term, he was never known to abandon his position. He might err, for he was fiery, impatient, and absolute ; but his errors were always in his country's favour, and were children of his unselfish patriotism. When, in 17G7, the British scheme of revenue, at the expense of the colo- nies, was revived, he was one of the jbrst to propose the suspension of all importation from Great Britain. Subse- quently, when the news came of the act for shutting up the port of Boston, he felt and declared himself as one who had suffered the greatest personal injuries. He pro- posed and pledged himself to do all that was possible for bringing the New Englanders relief. He urged the adop« 276 CHRISTOPHER GADSDEN tion ol an agreement wholly preventive of importation and exportation eq\ially, and was for cutting ofl', without ex- ception or qualification, all intercourse with the mother country, until her arrogant pretensions were abandoned for ever. So thoroughly earnest was he in these objects, that he disagreed with the rest of the delegation from South Carolina, who, in Congress, insisted upon the ex- emption of rice from the operation of the non-intercourse act of association. And yet, no man suffered more severely by these very measures than Mr. Gadsden. His chief interest lay in the unrestricted operations of com- merce. He was the proprietor of a large property which was the first to be impaired in value by the measures which he counselled; — and had just built one of the most extensive and costly wharves in Charleston, to the profit and productiveness of which his public policy was in the last desfree adverse. But selfish considerations never affected his patriotism ; and no American citizen ever lost more than he did by the events of his political career. His sacrifices were acknowledged, if they were never repaid, by his countrymen. In June, 1775, when the Provincial Congress of South Carolina resolved on raising troops, Mr. Gadsden, while absent on public duty at Philadelphia, was elected, without his knowledge, to the colonelcy of the first regiment. His personal courage was well known. His pretensions, as a military man, were less decided ; but were assumed in consequence of his readi- ness and activity in the expedition of Lyttleton against the Cherokees. He accepted the appointment, and left Con- gress to repair to the camp in Carolina, declaring his readi- ness to serve " wherever his country placed him, whether m the civil or the military; and indifferent, if in the latter, whether as colonel or corporal." The next year — 1776 — he was raised by Congress to the rank of brigadier-general. He was in command, in this capacity, at Fort Johnson, "when the invasion of South Carolina, by Sir Peter Parker, RESIGNS HIS COMMISSION. 277 toojc place. The battle and victory at Fok Moultrie saved the state, on this occasion, from any further issues . and General Gadsden was thus deprived of an opportunity of showing how stubbornly he could have done battle for the cause and country for which he had perilled and pledged himself from the beginning. But he was not, in the proper sense of the word, a military man. He had no passion for the glory of great soldiership, and felt that he could better serve the country in a civil than a military de- partment. Accordingly, in the two years interval of repose from war, which, in Carolina, followed the defeat of Sir Peter Parker, he resigned his commission. He continued, however, to serve in the privy council and the Assembly, and his activity in the public service was by no means lessened by his withdrawal from the sphere of military operations. He still showed the same tenacity of resist- ance to British usurpation which had marked his spirit from the beginning; and was honourably conspicuous among his associates in all the efforts to prepare the state against the successive attempts which were made by the invader. The years 1779 and 1780 find him constantly and vigorously engaged in these duties, always ready for the severest tasks, and in the front wherever danger threatened. When Charleston was yielded to the British, he was lieutenant-governor of South Carolina, and was paroled, as such, to his own habitation. But his parole availed him little. Irritated by the popular outbreaks under Marion and Sumter, the British commanders in the province, with their loss of temper, lost their sense of justice also. Immediately upon the defeat of Gates by Cornwallis, Gadsden was arrested in his house ; and, with some twenty-eight other leading citizens, who were either feared or suspected, was conveyed by a file of soldiers on board a prison-ship. This proceeding was conceived to be preliminary only to a trial for high treason. He was conveyed in this manner to St. Augustine, theji a Vol. it. 24 278 CHRISTOPHER GADSDEN. British garrison. Here, it was offered to the prisoners thai they should enjoy the privileges of the place on renewing their paroles, pledging themselves "to do nothing preju- dicial to the British interests." The offer was generally accepted. But Gadsden treated the suggestion with scorn. " With men," said he, " who have once deceived me, I can enter into no new contract. I have given one parole, and have strictly observed its conditions. In vio- lation of its guarantees, without a single accusation made against me, I am seized and hurried from my family and home. And now I am asked for more pledges, by those who will be bound by none. No, sir ; I will give no new parole." — " Think better of it," was the reply of the Bri- tish officer, commissioned for this duty. "Your rejection of this offer consigns you to a dungeon." — " I am ready for it — prepare it," was the answer. " I will give no pa- role, so help me God !^^ He was immediately hurried to the dungeon of the castle at St. Augustine, where he lay for ten months, kept from all intelligence, from all society, even from the sight of his fellow-captives. His estates underwent sequestration at the same time. His ten months' imprisonment were not suffered to be wearisome. The mind of Gadsden was not less active than inflexible. He had resources which made him inde- pendent of his dungeon. A close application to study enabled him to forget his bonds, and it is recorded that he emerged from captivity a much more learned man than when he entered it. It was in the dungeon of St. Augus- tine that he commenced the sti^dy of the Hebrew. Here he showed the firmness and magnanimity of a great man. He had no complaints; he acknowledged no suffiirings. A generous English subaltern, sympathizing with his pur- suits, offered to provide him secretly with lights, which had been forbidden. He rejected the precious privilege, lest It should involve the officer in difficulty and subject hira to punishment. When Andre was arrested and 'hitateneo RETURNS TO SOUTH CAROLINA. 279 with death as a spy, Colonel Glazier, British commandan of the post, communicated the affair to Gadsden, advising him to prepare for the worst ; for that, in the event of Andre's execution, he would most probably be the person chosen to suffer as a retaliatory British example. Gadsden answered that " he was always ready to die for his coun- try; and though he well knew that it was impossible for Washington to yield the right of an independent state b»- the laws of war to fear or to affection, yet he was not the person to shrink from the sacrifice. He would rather ascend the scaffold than purchase, with his life, the dis- honour of his country." The threat proved an idle one, and was probably only another mode adopted for annoying or intimidating a spirit which it had hitherto been found impossible to subdue. The progress of events brought him release some time in 1781, when the successes of Greene, and the southern partisans, procured an adequate number of British prisoners for exchanges. Gadsden was carried to Philadelphia, and from thence he hastened back to Carolina. Here the tide had set decidedly in favour of the patriots. The British were worn out with the struggle. Civil govern- ment was about to be restored on the popular basis ; and General Gadsden was prepared to participate, once more, in the duties and responsibilities of the country. He was at once elected to a seat in the first legislative Assembly, which declared the recovery of the state from the invader. This body met at Jacksonborough ; when John Rutledge surrendered into its hands the office of governor, which he had held, during the most trying period, with a rare ability. Gadsden was at once chosen his successor ; but he declined the appointment, in a short speech, to the loll(»wing effect : " I have served you," was his address to the speaker and the House, " in a variety of stations, for thirty years, and I would now cheerfully make one of a forlorn hope 280 CHRISTOPHER GADSDEN. in an assault upon the lines of Charleston, if it were pro- bable that with the certain loss of my life you would be reinstated in the possession of your capital. What I can do for my country, I am willing to do If my acceptance of the office of governor would serve my country, even though my administration should be attended with loss of personal credit and reputation, I would cheer- fully undertake it. But the present times require the vigour and activity of the prime of life ; and I feel the in- creasing infirmities of age to such a degree that I am con- scious I cannot serve you to advantage." He entreated to be permitted to decline the trust, but continued to serve in the Assembly and privy council. Here he gave a striking proof of his magnanimity. His own loss of property by sequestration and waste had been immense, yet he stubbornly resisted the retaliatory law which confiscated the estates of those who had adhered to the British government, insisting that the true policy was to forget the offence and forgive the offender. At the close of the war, and with the departure of the British from the state, General Gadsden retired into private life, only occasionally taking part in public affairs, serving in the convention of 1788 for the ratification of the national constitution, and, in 1790, for revising the state constitution. He survived his eighty-first year, usually in the enjoyment of good health, his death being finally pre- cipitated by an accidental fall, which hurried the inevitable event in the life of the mortal. He died, as he had lived, honoured and respected by all around him. He was a man of strong passions and strong prejudices, and it re- quired all his religion and resolve of character to subdue his moods to forbearance and propriety. He was the friend of peace. He believed that lawyers were of mis- chievous influence, and was of opinion that they should always be provided, as were the judges, at the public ex- pense ; conceiving, as Mr. Locke did, thai it was " a base JAMES HOGAN. 28l and vile thing to plead for money or reward. Of pliy- sicians he thought as little, considering exercise and tem* perance as worth all their prescriptions. His character was hard and granite-like, antique in the mould and fashion, not unlike that of the elder Cato. Othces of profit he always steadily rejected ; even refusing the compensa- tion which, by law, attached to such offices of trust as were conferred upon him. Altogether, his mind and prin ciples deserve, as we have already said, a more elaborate examination, and a more comprehensive memorial, than can be accorded them in this imperfect sketch. His writings are important to the future historian of the coun- try, as illustrating the rise, growth, and progress of opinion in one of those sections in which the activity was great, and where the conflict was of the most extreme and un- compromising character. BRIGADIER-GENERAL JAMES HOGAN. The principle of appointing officers in the continental army from the various states according to their quotas, was perhaps unavoidable ; but it secured commissions to some persons of small abilities, who are known at this time only by the appearance of their names in the state papers, or for the pertinacity with which they insisted upon military eti- quette and rank. James Hogan was one of the represen- tatives of Halifax in the Provincial Congress of North Carolina, which assembled on the 4th of April, 1776, and, upon the organization of the forces of the colony, was made paymaster of the third regiment; and, on the 17th of the same month, was chosen major of the Edenton and Halifax militia. He continued in the state on continental service during the war; and, on the 9th of January, 1779, was appointed a brigadier-general in the line. 24* BRIGADIER-GENERAL ISAAC HUGER. Insisting upon the Anglo-Saxon origin and character- sties of our country, we are commonly guilty of a great injustice to other lands, to which we owe no small por- tion of that noble stock of individual character, which has served to make our nation famous. Among the foreign sources of this contribution from abroad, to the formation of our infant society, we should never overlook the nu- merous colonies of Huguenots, who after, and even before the revocation of the edict of Nantz, fled to English- America as to a place of refuge. South Carolina was particularly fortunate in being one of the colonies chosen by the emigrants as a safe home against persecution. She received large acquisition from this stock, at this period, and has had reason ever since to be grateful for the good fortune which brought them to her shores. To this day, the descendants of the Huguenot exiles rank among the noblest of their citizens. They have contri- buted equally to her strength and her reputation ; and many of her best scholars, her bravest soldiers, and most polished gentlemen, claim direct descent from this ex- clusive original. The Huger ^family rank with the noblest stocks in Carolina. Its ancestors came from Touraine in France. They fled from tyranny and intolerance, and brought with them their most valuable possession, a spirit of civil and religious independence, which they were fortunate in transmitting, in all its original purity, to their children. Isaac Huger was the grandson of the emigrants. He was born at Limerick plantation, at the head-waters of Cooper river, on the 19th March, 1742. His parents were Daniel Huger and Mary Cordes, both natives of South Carolina 283 HIS FAMILY AND EDUCATION. 283 Isaac was one of the many sons, — Daniel, Isaac, John Benjamin and Francis, — most of whom were more or less active and distinguished in the war of the Revolution Daniel was long a member of Congress; John was ably and well known in the councils of the State ; P^rancis was at the battle of Fort Moultrie; Benjamin fell in battle at the lines of Charleston ; while his son Francis distinguished himself in Europe, with Bollman, in the chivalrous and self-sacrificing attempt to rescue Lafayette from the dungeons of Olmutz. Our present notice is de- voted to Isaac, the second of the brothers. His early education was quite as good as the country could afford. His parents had large fortunes, and their sons were sent to Europe, as was the fashion of the times, to complete and perfect their intellectual acquisitions. They returned in season to take part in the struggle of their native soil against the oppressors. The motto on the family arms, «' Ubi libertas, ibi patiia,^^ found them steadfast in the faith. Isaac Huger received a commission from the Pro- vincial Congress as lieutenant-colonel of the first regiment, of which Christopher Gadsden was colonel, on the 17th day of June, 1775. This was not a gratuitous distinc- tion, conferred simply in anticipation of future service. Isaac Huger had already shown himself a soldier, having serve'd in the expedition under Colonel Montgomery (after- wards Lord Eglintoun) against the Cherokees, in that frequent Indian war which proved so excellent a school and nursery for so many of the southern captains. He was unfortunate in being stationed at Fort Johnson, in Charleston harbour, during the first invasion of South Carolina by the British under Sir Peter Parker. This fortress was permitted to take no part in the conflict. It was here that he gave an instance of that recklessness of nazard, which was the distinguishing trait in his cha- racter, and which sometimes had the effect of making him regardless of proper precautions. When Governor Rul 284 ISAAC HUGER. ledge inspected the arrangements for the defence of Fort Johnson, he remarked to Huger, familiarly, "Very good, Isaac, very good ; but I do not see that you have made any provision for your retreat." <' Retreat, no !" was the reply of the other, and he garnished the rest of the sen- tence with an oath which is supposed to be permitted to a soldier on the eve of action — '< I do not mean to retreat! I do not see that retreat is at all necessary." Recoiling from the bulwarks of Fort Sullivan, the tide of war rolled back from the southern upon the northern colonies. For two years after the failure of this first British expedition against Carolina, the south remained free from invasion, though not from the frequent threat of it. During this period, Huger was promoted to the colo- nelcy of the fifth regiment of South Carolina. His next service was in Georgia. Hither he went, with his regi- ment, on the invasion of that province by Colonel Camp- bell ; and was opposed to the progress of General Prevost, with whom he had several skirmishes. His command was finally united with that of General Howe, and he acted as brigadier ; but without the materiel ov pei'sonnel which could encourage the hope of any successful performance. The Americans, enfeebled by sickness and want of arms and clothing, diminished rapidly, in the face of a superior and an active enemy, and in the conflict with the British at Savannah, the right being led by Huger, they were only able to show what might have been done under better auspices. In the retreat which followed this event. Ge- neral Huger maintained admirable order in his division, and brought it in safety to Perrysburg, where a junction wa<» formed with the force stationed at that place under the command of Moultrie. The British, meanwhile, had spread themselves over Georgia, and South Carolina had become a frontier. It was important to effect a diversion in the former state, foi the relief of the latter; and the better to cal" into active BATTLE OF STONO. 285 service the militia, and to alarm the fears of the British with regard to their present acquisitions, Major-General Lincoln, who had taken command of the continental forces, in the southern department, marched with a select body of troops into the interior of Georgia. He was accom- panied by General Huger. Advancing along the Ogeehee, they were suddenly surprised by the tidings of an attempt upon the city of Charleston, by the British under Prevost. This enterprising commander, availing himself of Lin- coln's absence in Georgia, passed suddenly over the Savannah into Carolina, in hope to capture Charleston by a coup de main. Moultrie, with an inferior force of mili- tia, was the only obstacle in his way ; and it became ne- cessary that Lincoln should return, by forced marches, for the safety of the southern metropolis. His approach, wirti the stubborn opposition offered by Moultrie, had the effect of baffling the British general. But the escape of the city was exceedingly narrow. It was in a skirmish of the night, on this very occasion, that Major Benjamin Huger, the brother of Isaac, was slain. Prevost retired to the neighbouring islands, whither Lincoln pursued him. General Huger was still with the Continentals. He commanded the left wing at the spirited battle of Stono, on the 20th June, 1779, and was wounded while gallantly leading on his men. The British, at length, yielded the ground to their enemies ; and re- tiring by way of the sea islands, succeeded in reaching Savannah. Hither it became the policy of the Americans to pursue them. The appearance of a French armament on the coast, under the command of Count d'Estaing, suggested the plan of a joint attack upon Savannah, by the French and American commanders. A want of pro- per concert, and unnecessary delays on the part of the assailing forces, enabled the British to prepare for them ; and when the assault was ordered, it was almost evidently a desperate enterprise. The command of the Georgia 5286 ISAAC HUGER. and South Carolina militia was confided to General Huger The two continental columns were led by Colonel Laurens and General Mcintosh. The French were divided into three bodies also. The details of this disastrous attempt belong to other narratives. The column under Colonel Laurens was that alone which succeeded in the assault. The assailants sank from the murderous fire which en- countered their valour, and the penalty which they paia for the indiscretion and headstrong confidence of theif French general was severely felt by the people of Georgia 'ind Carolina for long seasons after. Strengthened by ample reinforcements, the British were at length prepared for a third attempt upon the capital of South Carolina. They appeared before the city of Charles- ton with an overwhelming armament, as well by sea as land ; and, after a three months' league and bombardment, the place was surrendered. General Huger was not one of the garrison. He had been directed to keep the field, by Governor Rutledge, and with a body of light troops, chiefly militia, he w^as employed in cutting off supplies to the enemy, encountering his detachments, and keeping open the communications between the town and country. In this duty he sutTered himself to be surprised ; an event which, at the time, greatly impaired his military reputa- tion. He was stationed at Monk's Corner, temporarily ; and greatly fatigued with frequent and harassing exercises. His sentinels remiss, and he himself but too apt, as we have seen, to look with scorn or indifference upon the usual mi- litary precautions, the British, under Colonels Tarleton and Webster, succeeded in gaining his rear by unfrequented paths. His force was dispersed for a time, and retired Ooyond the Santee. The fall of Charleston, the defeat of Colonel Beaufort, and the sudden irruption of the British, everywhere through South Carolina, compelled the patriots to seek security by flight to the swamps or to contiguous States, i BATTLE OF GUILFORD COURT-HOUSE. 287 Huger, like most others acknowledging the necessity, lay dormant for a season. The approach of Gates, with a continental army, was too quickly followed by his com- plete defeat to encourage any premature exposure on the part of the fugitives ; but with the uprising of Sumter and Marion, and the appointment of General Greene to the southern army, we find Huger once more in the field, and in the army of Greene. The victory of Morgan over Tarleton at the Cowpens, and the hot pursuit, w^hich Cornwallis urged, of the former general, too greatly ex- cited the apprehensions of Greene to suflfer him to remain in camp. On this occasion the army was set in motion, with orders to ascend the banks of the Pee Dee, and proceed with all expedition to Salisbury. The disaster of Huger at Monk's Corner seems no longer to have impaired his reputation, since we find him intrusted with the command, while Greene, with a small escort, hastened to afford his personal assistance to Morgan, who was keenly pursued by his eager adversary. Huger conducted the retreat of the Continentals to Guilford, where he was joined by Greene, who resumed the command. In the action which followed, at Cuilford Court-house, the Virginians were confided to Huger, and never did troops behave more valiantly under any leader. In spite of the evil example of the North Carolinians, who fled at the first fire, they stood their ground like veterans, yielding only after a sufficiently protracted struggle had served all the pur- poses which were contemplated to accrue from their gal- lantry. Huger perilled himself on this occasion with hi? usual recklessness. He did not belong to that school of soldiers who insist that the success of the army consists " chiefly in the perfect safety of its commander. He did not escape ; was wounded severely, but fortunately not dangerously. From this moment he follow^ed the fortunes of Greene At Hobkirk's Hill he commanded the right wing of the 288 ISAACHUGER. army, a\id had succeeded in making considerable impres- sion on the line of the enemy, when an unlucky error «jf Colonel Gunby, which threw his favourite regiment into confusion, disconcerted all the plans of Greene, and com- pelled him to leave, in retreat and disorder, a field in which victory was almost within his grasp. In this disastrous termination of a hopeful conflict, Huger's exertions were of the most exemplary character. His example might well have restored the courage of the soldiery, could it have repaired the confusion in their ranks. His generous efibrts at recovering the day, brought him more than once in almost immediate contact with the muzzles of the enemy's muskets. His escape was held miraculous. But this time he perilled himself without paying the usual penalties. He escaped unhurt. He presided soon after at the Court of Inquiry, which was appointed to sit upon Gunby's conduct, to whose mistake the loss of the battle was ascribed, and whom the court censured, but with a due regard to his past good behaviour. Huger had not served so long, and so faithfully, without fully repairing his past errors of incautiousness. He had acquired the entire confidence of Greene, who frequently gave the army into his charge, and even meditated placing it wholly under his command, while he flung himself across the path of Cornwallis in Virginia. His declared determina- tion was, after the reduction of the posts of Ninety-Six and Augusta, to take some strong position that would con- fine the enemy to the low country, and then, yielding the army wholly to Huger, proceed to North Carolina, hasten- ing on expected levies from that quarter, and press- ing forvv^ard himself to the encounter with his ancient enemy. Subsequent events defeated this arrangement.' Rawdon abandoned Ninety-Six, and was making his way towards Orangeburg. The American army was immediately put in motion, and, after reaching Winnsborough, was ordered to disembarrass itself of every thing that could RETALIATION RECOMMENDED. 289 impede its march, and was left again in charge of Huger; to whom Greene confided his wnsh that he would press fcward to the Congaree, while he, Greene, attended by a single aide and small escort of cavalry, pushed on to find Colonel Washington, and to observe more nearly the indications by which his future measures were to be di- rected. This progress ultimately brought on the battle of Eutaws, by which the British power in Carolina was completely prostrated. We do not find that Huger was in this action. He was probably kept from it, among the "high hills of Santee," by sickness. The season was excessively warm; his marches had been hurried and wearisome in the last degree ; and the battle was fought on the 8th Sep- tember, the most sickly season of the year in Carolina. That he was present in the army about this period, is certain, from the fact that he was the first person to sign the recommendation to General Greene to retaliate for the execution of Colonel Hayne, by the British, in like manner upon British subjects. « We are not unmindful," is the language of this noble document, " that such a mea- sure may, in its consequences, involve our own lives in additional dangers, but we had rather forego temporary distinctions, and commit ourselves to the most desperate situation, than prosecute this just and necessary war upon terms so dishonourable," — referring to the inequality of peril between themselves and the British, if such murders as that of Colonel Hayne should be passed without reta- liation. The close of the war spared the country the necessity of adopting any sanguinary act of retribution. General Huger went into the conflict a rich man, and emerged from it a poor one. His slaves were torn from his estate by the British and their Tory alUes ; but he never regretted his losses, when he considered the great gain to his coun- try's glory and safety. When, at the termination ot tne Vol. II. 25 T 290 MOSES HAZEN. strui^gle, General Greene visited him, and was presented to his family, he was struck with the group before him, and with mucn emotion exclaimed — « I would never, my dear Huger, have exposed you so often as I have dene, to bear the brunt of the battle, and varied dangers of the field, had I known how numerous and lovely a family were dependent on your protection." General Huger died in Charleston in 1788 or 89. He was buried at a farm on Ashley river, the property of one of his family, but known at that time as Graham's farm. He was a man of great personal popularity ; of frank and amiable manners ; graceful of carriage ; erect and vigour- ous of frame, and looking every inch the soldier. His cou- rage was an unconscious virtue, the natural instinct of a mind that knew as little of fear as it was possible for mortal to escape knowing. Accustomed to command, he carried with him an air of authority, which was quite too natural and becoming in him to offend the self-esteem of others. He was generous to a fault, affectionately so- licitous of the interests of his friends, and never forgetfiil of a service. It is remembered tliat the Cherokee In- dians, who had made his acquaintance as an enemy, al- ways sought him out as a friend, whenever they visited the seaboard. BRIGADIER-GENERAL MOSES HAZEN. At the commencement of the Revolution, a strong sym- pathy for the colonies existed in some parts of Canada. As the struggle advanced, many Canadians enlisted into the American army. Congress accepted their services appointed officers of their own selection, and several regi- ments thus raised rendered good service during the war. MosesHazen, a man of considerable wealth, near Saint COLONEL OF CONGRESS 's OWN. 291 John's, furnished supplies and rendered other aid to the army of General Montgomery, on his expedition against Quebec. After the fall of that officer, and the disastrous retreat of our army, Hazen's dwelling-houses, store-houses, shops and other buildings, were destroyed by the British troops, and his movable property all carried off or de- stroyed. Offering his services to Congress, in January, 1776, he was appointed colonel of the second Canadian regi- ment, and furnished with funds for the recruiting service. This regiment was known by the name of Congresses Own, because it was not attached to the quota of any of the States. At the time of his appointment, Colonel Hazen was a lieutenant of the British army, on half-pay, and Congress agreed to indemnify him for any loss he might incur by renouncing his allegiance to the king. He pro- ceeded to Canada, where he obtained some recruits, and returning to Pennsylvania, filled his ranks, and continued during the whole war in active and efficient service. Perfectly acquainted with the situation of the^northern frontier, he was frequently consulted by the commanding generals in that department ; and after the surrender of Burgoyne, he urged the expediency of an expedition against Canada, which Washington recommended to Con- gress. In the fall of 1778 Hazen was sent to Philadelphia to explain his plan to that body, and but for want of means it would probably have been adopted. In June, 1781, he was appointed a brigadier-general, and in consideration of his losses and sacrifice Congress voted him an indemnity of thirteen thousand dollars, and after his death, his widow received a grant of nine hun- dred and sixty acres of land, and a pension of two hun- dred dollars for life. General Hazen, at the close of the war, retired from the array, and died at Troy, New York, on the 3d of February, 1803, in the seventieth year of his age. IJRIGADIER-GENERAL JAMES WILKINSON. General Wilkinson was born about the year 1757, near the village of Benedict on the Patuxent, in Mary- land. He was educated at home, and very early com- menced the study of medicine with an uncle who had been a surgeon under Wolfe. To this uncle's descrip- tions of the war in Canada he attributes an early predilec- tion for a military life. In 1773, being then seventeen, he was sent by his mother, who was a widow, to the medical school of Philadelphia. The day after his arrival he visited the barracks, then occupied by a part of the I8th regiment, and witnessing their parade, his partiality was increased for a military life. In 1775 he returned home to practise his profession, but the troubles of the period that occupied every mind wrought strongly upon his enthusiasm; he became one of an independent com- pany in Georgetown, commanded by a Quaker from Rhode Island ; and after the battle of Bunker Hill, no longer able to control his wishes, abandoned his profes- sion, and repaired to the camp at Cambridge. In March, 1776, General Washington gave him a captain's commis- sion in Colonel Reed's New Hampshire regiment, at that time attached to General Greene's staff, which he joined at New York the next month. It was soon attached to the northern army, in which he served under Arnold. In July, 1776, he was appointed a brigade major, and in December was sent by General Gates to the com- mander-in-chief with despatches ; and joining the latter on the banks of the Delaware, assisted in the affairs at Trenton and Princeton. In January, 1777, he was ap- pointed a Heutenant-colonel, with authority to name the 292 AID E-D E-C AMP TO GENERAL GATES. 293 officers in three companies. On General Gates's appoint- ment to the command of the northern army, Wilkinson gave up his commission in the line, to occupy his former station in the staff, a step which excited observation at the time, but to which he said he was prompted by zeal for the public service, for which he supposed he could do most in that quarter, on account of his particular acquaintance with its localities. When Gates w^as about to be super- seded by Schuyler, he by a general order appointed Colonel Wilkinson adjutant-general ; and when he again resumed the command he appears to have relied much on his adjutant's opinion, and to have followed his advice in some important occurrences. On the surrender of Bur- goyne, Wilkinson was sent to Congress with the official despatches announcing that event,* and thereupon received the brevet of brigadier-general. He returned to the head- quarters of the northern department, and while there was appointed secretary to the board of war, of which General Gates was president. The discovery of some intrigues of Gates connected with a letter of Conway's against the commander-in-chief, in which Wilkinson was implicated by Gates's conduct, produced an open rupture between them, and his resignation of the secretaryship of the board of war. He also resigned his brevet of brigadier, and in July, 1770, was appointed clotiiier general to the army. After the peace, in 1783, Wilkinson went to reside in Kentucky with his family, and engaged in some mercan- tile transactions, particularly in a contract for tobacco with the Spanish governor of Louisiana. Disgusted with trade, he entered again into the army, was employed at • While on his way, Colonel "Wilkinson stopped so long at Reading that Congress received the news first from common repoi-t. When there- fore a proposition was made by some member to reward the messenger, Roger Sherman seconded the motion, but proposed to amend it by voting B whip and a pair of spurs. 25* 294 JAMES WILKINSON. various points on the frontiers, and had an interview with General HamiUon in 1798, and presented to him a general view of the western and southern military posts. He returned to his command on the Mississippi when peace was restored with France ; received Louisiana from the French as joint commissioner with Governor Claiborne ; remained at the head of the southern department until his court-martial in 1811 ; and after being honourably acquitted returned, and, when the late war came on, was occupied in making defensive fortifications to secure New Orleans. In 1813, he was ordered to the northern border, where his operations were not successful ; but on being tried by a general court-martial in 1815, he was acquitted of all blame. On the new organization of the army after the peace, he was not retained in the establishment. General Wilkinson had become possessed of large estates in Mexico, and not long after leaving the army he removed to that country. He died in the vicinity of the capital, on the 28th of December, 1825, and was buried in the parish of St. Miguel. The American minister, Mr. Poinsett, and many of the principal citizens, attended his funeral. General Wilkinson was twice married: his first wife was a daughter of John Biddle of Philadelphia; his second, who survived him, was a French woman, named Tradeau, whom he married at New Orleans in 1810. General Wilkinson published at Philadelphia, in 1816, Memoirs of his Own Times, in three very large octavo volumes. It is a work of great value to the historical student, who will have little difficulty in detecting the passages which are tinged with the author's prejudices. MAJOR-GENERAL THOMAS SUMTER. The early life of Thomas Sumter is involved in some obscurity ; a fact which is quite discreditable, in the case of a person so distinguished, to the state for which he performed so much, and the descendants who bear his name. We are only enabled to gather from a very mea- gre and imperfect tradition, that he was born in Virginia, somewhere about the year 1734. We are not in posses- sion of any facts which can throw light upon his origin and family. He was still a mere boy, when, as tradition tells us, he went as a volunteer against the French and Indians in " the old French war." There is a statement, which it is perhaps no longer possible to verify, that his courage, experience, and shrewivn's de- HANGING ROCK. 301 tachraent, which it also contributed to di&coaipose. The British troops, retreating, succeeded in gaining the centre of their position, from which Sumter found it impossible to dislodge them. His militia had been disordered, and were, unhappily, no longer manageable. They had tasted the luxuries of the British camp — had found the liquors of the enemy too grateful to be easily abandoned, and thus effectually deprived their commander of the means of prosecuting his successes. It was his great good fortune, and great merit, to be able to withdraw them in season, and in good order from a field which he had gallantly won, but which their insane appetites did not suffer him' to keep. The British were too severely weakened to op- pose successfully bis retreat. Of one hundred and sixty men of Tarleton's legion alone, sixty-two, according to the acknowledgment of the enemy, were put hors de combat. The other detachments suffered in proportion. The Ameri- can loss was considerable also, but not comparable to that of the enemy. Sumter lost nothing by the incompleteness of his victory. His men were emboldened by the affair, and his own re- putation for enterprise and gallantry was greatly increased by it. In less than thirty days, he had, with his ill-armed recruits, driven in the advanced parties of the enemy along the Catawba ; had handled them severely in three several conflicts, and had succeeded in providing his follow- ers with the more legitimate weapons of a regular warfare. The battle of Hanging Rock, which we have just re- cited, preceded, by a few days only, the bloody and dis- astrous action between Cornwallis and Gates, near Cam- den. Just at this moment, the former general had all his attention drawn upon the approaching army of the Ameri- cans, under the conqueror of Burgoyne. Sumter recrosstd rhe Calawba, and was lying on the west side of the river, while Gates was hurriedly approaching Rudgley's Mills. He immediately communicated to that general intelligence Vol. XL 26 302 THOMAS SUMTER. of a large quantity of British stores, on their way to Cam- den, under a strong escort ; but which, with a reinforce- ment from the regular army, it was in his power to surprise and capture. His application was entertained favourably. A detachment from Gates's camp was sent him, and the moment of their arrival was that of his departure. Putting his command in motion for Camden Ferry, Sumter pushed forward with equal caution and celerity. Near the break of day, on the 16ih August, he had approached, undis- covered, to within a few miles of Carey's Fort. The Bri tish were taken by surprise. A sudden and impetuous •onslaught succeeded, without any serious struggle. The fort, the stores, the troops — all, were surrendered, and, in possession of forty-four wagons, crammed with valuable stores, and numerous prisoners, Sumter properly com- menced his retreat, with the view of putting them in safety. His course was up the Wateree. That very day was fatal to Gates's army. It was on this progress that Sumter was apprized of its defeat. Unfortunately, his own retreat had brought him nearer to the danger from which it should have carried him. When told of Gates's misfortime, he was nearly opfiosite the ground upon which the battle had been fought that very morning. A river ran between him and the victorious enemy ; but this was passable in numerous places. It was doubly unfortunate that Cornwallis received tidings of Sumter's capture of his stores quite as soon as the latter knew of Gates's defeat. Cornwallis was one of the best of the British generals. He knew that no time was to be lost. He despatched Tarle- ton instantly with his legion, and a detachment of in- fantry, in pursuit. The chief merit of Tarleton was in the rapidity of his execution. He made his troopers use their rowels on this occasion ; and, on the l8th, Sumter was overtaken at Fishing Creek. Burdened with his baggage, his prisoners, three hundred in number, and heavy laden wagons, his movements had been necessarily much slowei RECRUITS IN NORTH CAROLINA. 303 than those of the light armed troops which Tarleton cora- mandea. His men were harassed by continual toils, and his videttes failed to do their duty. They were taken or .slain, sleeping upon their posts, and the .amp of Sumter was surprised. It was in vain that he made a stand with a chosen body of his followers. His troops were dis- persed, the prisoners and stores recaptured, and Sumtei was again a fugitive. He has been severely censured for suffering this surprise. Certainly, in the case of one who so iiiuch delighted in surprising others, the game is one which he should be well aware demands the utmost unre- mitting vigilance. It does not appear, however, that there was any lack of caution on the part of Sumter. It is ob- vious that the duty of maintaining a proper watch over a camp must necessarily be confided to subordinates. The general can, after all, exercise only a certain amount of personal vigilance. Sumter vras not wanting in his. His videttes and sentinels failed in their duty; and this is always the peril where the force consists chiefly of militia. On this occasion, what their enterprise and valour had won, their improvidence lost ; and the organization of his force had to be begun anew. Sumter made his way once more into North Carolina. Here he recruited, in some degree, his force ; and his dispersed followers, bringing with them often comrades, came into his camp, as he ranged along the regions of the Enoree, the Broad, and Tiger rivers. His force gradually resumed its form, and attracted to itself the attention of the enemy. Emerging from his retreat, Sumter was soon upon the track of the loyalists, restraining their predatory bands, and punishing their excesses. The British held their main camp at Winnsborough. As the force of Sum- ter acquired strength, he approached this station ; and, taking up a position at the Fishdam Ford, on the east bank of Broad river, it became a desire with Lord Cornwallis to surprise him a second time in his encampment. Tavle? 304 THOMAS SUMTER. Ion, who had done the business so effectually on a pre- vious ocrasion, was apparently the proper person again to effect this object. But, while notice was given to Tarle- ton of this desire, the impatience of Cornwallis determined upon setting forth another expedition for the same purpose; and, while Tarleton was summoned from below, where he was pursuing the " Swamp Fox," in order that he should find more easy prey above, in a second surprise of the «* Game Coci<," Colonel Wemyss was detached, with the sixty-third regiment and a corps of dragoons, to try his hand at the same experiment. It is highly probable that Sumter, in taking a position in such close proximity to the camp of Cornwallis, antici- pated and invited these enterprises. He remembered the daring of Tarleton, and naturally desired his revenge. It was easy, too, to imagine, that, to a leader like Tarleton, who had hitherto been successful chiefly by the audacity of his assaults, it would be more natural that he should be rash than that he should be prudent. Sumter, at all events, had put himself in preparation for the reception of any foe. Wemyss made his attack on the camp of our brigadier at one o'clock, in the morning of the 9th Novem- ber. He was unfortunate in all his calculations. Sumter was in waiting for him, having given more than usual strength to his advanced guard, and made all his arrange- ments not only for his enemy, but in anticipation of a night attack. A murderous fire prostrated twenty-three of the assailants, at their first approach ; and their several succeeding attempts were wholly fruitless. The British, in the precipitancy of their flight, left their wounded com- mander in the hands of the Americans. Colonel Wemyss was shot through both thighs; but he lived. He was ac- cused of many crimes against the patriotic inhabitants ; and when it was known to the Americans that he was their prisoner, they were seized with a desire to bring him to immediate and condign punishment. Had Sumter lent DEFEAT OF WEMYSS. 305 any countenance to their wishes, Wemyss would have ex piatecl his crimes upon the gallows. In addition to former ofFences of the same character, a memorandum of the houses and estates he was yet to destroy was found upoc his person. This was shown to Sumter ; but, after pos- sessing himself of its contents, he magnanimously threw the paper into the fire, silenced the murmurs of those who sought the life of the wounded man, and, to the great sur- prise and confusion of the latter, paid him every attention. The defeat of Wemyss increased the anxieties of Corn- wallis. Tarleton was again urged to prosecute his at- tempts upon an enemy who was equally bold in his enter- prises, and rapid in his movements. But Sumter did not wait for the coming of another enemy. After the action with Wemyss, he crossed Broad river; and, on being joined by an additional force of mountaineers, he pre- pared to attempt the British post at Ninety-Six. The ra- pidity of Tarleton's movemenhs anticipated this attempt, and exposed the command of Sumter to imminent danger. Whilst the cavalry and light troops of the British army were detached, and serving below against Marion, he had no apprehensions from the acknowledged superiority of Cornwallis in infantry. Entirely unencumbered with bag- gage himself, he well knew he could retreat from the heavier force of the British army with sufficient and supe- rior celerity. His men had no tents but the broad blue canopy of heaven; and, for food, the coarse and occa- sional fare of the forest sufficed for present necessities. His followers were all mounted, knew thoroughly the various routes of the country, and could scour away upon the approach of a superior force, and find safety in re- cesses of which their enemies had no knowledge. Hang- ing, therefore, with confidence on the skirts of Cornwallis, he used his Superiority, and took advantage of all occa- sions for harassing and annoying him. But the approach of Tarleton, not only with artillery and with a large force 26* IT 306 THOMAS SUMTER. of cavalry, but with his infantry on horseback also, changed materially the relations between the parties. It was well that Sumter heard of his approach in season to effect a hasty retreat. He succeeded, though at a late moment, in throwing the Tiger river between himself and his pur- suer ; and had scarcely done so, when the British legionary troops, accompanied by a mounted detachment of the sixty-third regiment, appeared in view on the Ojiposite side. Sumter took up his position at the house of one Blackstock, which afforded a position highly favourable for the order of battle of an inferior force. Not doubting that the whole force of Tarleton was upon him, his pur- pose was to maintain his ground during the day, and to disappear quietly under cover of the night. But soon discovering that but a portion of the British army had reached the ground, he determined to take upon himst^lf the initiative in the affair, and to bring on the action at once. Tarleton's confidence in himself contributed to the success of this design. Convinced that his prey was now secure, he occupied an elevated piece of ground in front of Sumter's position ; and, immediately after, dismounted his men, to relieve them and their horses, until the arrival of his artillery and infantry should enable him to begin the attack with advantage. But Sumter, conceiving that Tarleton's numbers were already sufficiently great for his purposes, put a detachment of his riflemen in motion, and marched out at the critical moment when the British were least a])prehensive and most perfectly at their ease. De- scending from the elevation which they occupied, the American marksmen drew sufficiently nigh to the enemy to use their ducking guns and rifles, and to make their small shot available for the purposes of mischief A well- directed fire threw all into commotion in the British camp. The well-drilled regulars were soon set in array for action, and the advance of the sixty-third, with their bayonetSj soon warned the men of Sumter to resume their heights FLIGHT OF TARLETON. 307 They did so with great coolness and discretion, emptying their pieces as they retired. This retreat was admirably managed. It beguiled their pursuers — as it was meant to do — to the foot of the hill, and within reach of a reserve of rifles which Sumter had prepared for their reception. The terrible fire ran through their ranks like lightning. Many were prostrated, and the rest thrown in:o confusion. Tarletoii saw his danger. Every thing depended upon the most prompt and desperate decision. He charged fearlessly up the hill, but only to draw upon himself a second fire which told as fearfully upon his columns as the first had done. The American ranks stood firm; his own — thinned by the deadly rifle — began to falter. Drawing oflfhis whole corps, he wheeled abou* upon Sumter's left, seeking a less precipitous ascent, and better footing for his cavalry. This brought him towards Blackstock's house, where, under Colonels Clark and Twiggs, a little corps of Georgians, one hundred and fifiy in number, had been posted. They stood his charge like veterans, but the odds were too greatly against them. For a moment they yielded to the pressure of the whole Bri- tish force, and gave way, until the timely interposition of the reserve, under Colonel Winn, and the enfilading fire of a company posted within the house, restored the fortune of the day. This event terminated the conflict. Wheeling about from an enemy whom he had too rashly provoked, Tarleton gave spurs to his horse and fled, while the swift- footed riflemen darted ofi' in a pursuit which ended only with the comins: on of ni^ht. Tarleton never halted until he had joined the remainder of his corps, w'hich was now only a few miles in the rear. Here he encamped, while ihe Americans, inferior in numbers and destitute of artiller}' and cavalry, were compelled to content themselves with the victory already gained. One hundred and ninety-two of the British were left on the field, of whom ninety-two were slain, and the rest wounded. The American 'oss 308 THOMAS SUMTER. was al:Tiost nominal. They had never suffered themselves to be reached by the bayonet, having tiiemselves no such weapon. But their general was among the few who suf- fered from the British fire. He received a ball through the right breast near the shoulder, a severe wound, which for a long time incapacitated him from service. Suspended in an ox hide, between two horses, he was thus conveyed by a ofuard of faithful followers into North Carolina. He did not suffer his troops to await the return of Tarleton, with his entire force ; but, after burying the British and their own dead, and paying every attention to the British wounded, their rolls were called, and they quietly disappeared from a neighbourhood which was no longer one of security. Congress acknowledged the services of General Sumter by a vote of thanks. Cornwallis made his admission also. Writing to Tarleton, just after the affair of Blackstock's, he says — " I shall be very glad to hear that Sumter is in a condition to give us no further trouble. He certainly has been our greatest plague in this country." He could have no better eulogium than the discomfort and com- plaint of his enemy. The wish of Cornwallis was tempo- rarily realized. The severity of Sumter's wound put him hors de combat for several months ; but, though only par- tially recovered, he took the field in the early part of 1781, at the time when General Greene, who had suc- ceeded to the command of the continental army in the south, was in full retreat before Cornwallis. The policy of the partisans of Carolina was to effect a diversion in Greene's favour, by alarming the British general for the safety of the several posts which he had left behind him. Assembling his militiamen pretty equally from North and South Carolina, Sumter made a --apid movement towards Fort Granby, on tne soutn oranch of the Congaree, which he crossed, and, appearing in force before the post, suc- -jeeded in destroying its magazines. At this momeiit, Lord Rawdon advanced from Camden, for the relief of the ATTACKED BY MAJOR FRAZER. 30^ post, and Sumter disappeared before him, only to reappear, immediately afier, in front of another British post on the same river. The next day he surprised an escort convoy- ins: certain wafjons of stores from Charleston to Camden, slew thirteen of the escort, and made sixty-six prisoners. This performance scarcely achieved, when, swimming his horses across the Santee, while his men went over in boats, he made a demonstration on Fort Watson ; but, failing to surprise the garrison, he desisted from the as- sault, the place being quite unassailable without artillery, and Lord Rawdon again came to its relief. If this expe- dition had no other fruits, it was effectual in breaking up the communication between the several posts of the enemy, of distressing and disquieting him, and keeping his men in continual apprehension, while enduring continual duty. On Sumter's return from Fort Watson, he was attacked by Major Frazer, near Camden, at the head of a consider- able force of regulars and militia ; but that officer had got the worst in the conflict, making off" with a loss of twenty of his men. After these fatiguing enterprises, Sumter gave himself a brief respite from the active duties of the field. But this respite did not imply idleness. On the contrary, he was never more busy than during this period. Hitherto, his efforts had been prosecuted with militia only. His troops had never been engaged for stated periods of service. They came and went at pleasure, obeying the calls of their fields and families quite as readily as they did their captain's. It was necessary to amend this sys- tem ; and Sumter succeeded in enlisting three small regi- ments, as state troops, for a specific period often months. With these he at once resumed active operations. Greene, meanwhile, relieved of Cornwallis, who was pursuing his way towards Virginia, there to officiate in one of the final scenes of the revolutionary drama at Yorktown, was preparing to return to South Carolina. He wrote to Sumter, apprizing him of his intention, and requesting him to make all possible 310 THOMAS SUMTER. airangements for procuring provisions for his army ; to ob tain all possible intelligence of the purposes and resources of the enemy, and to do all in his power towards breaking up the British communication. Sumter was already in the field. He swept, with broadsword and rille, the coun- try lying between the Broad, Saluda, and Wateree rivers; and, in this process, succeeded in dispersing vSeveral par- ties of the royalist milida. Greene's reapearaiice in South Carolina, with the continentals, was the signal for a more decisive and equally active employment of the partisans. To Sumter and Marion it was particularly confided to hold Lord Rawdon in check, in Charleston or its vicinity, to which the British general had retired ; and, in the prose- cution of this duty, they gradually closed in upon him, until he established a new line of fortified posts, extending from Georgetown, by Monk's Corner, Dorchester, and other well-known points, to Coosawhatchie. But these posts did not prevent the incursions of our enterprising generals of brigade. They constantly passed within the line thus circumscribed, harassing their enemies, cutting otr detachments and supplies, and subjecting them to con- stant alarm and insecurity. So tormenting were these incursions, that the British conceived the idea of laying \vaste the entire region of country thus infested ; depriving themselves as well as their sleepless assailants, of the re- sources with which it tempted and rewarded their activity. The departure of Rawdon for Charleston, from the town of Camden, (which he destroyed,) took place on the 10th of May; and, on the day following, Sumter assailed and took the British post at Orangeburg, with its garrison, consisting of a hundred men, and all its stores, which were equally valuable and necessary to the half naked soldiers in the ranks of the partisans. About this time- ernbroilea in a dispute with Colonel Lee, Sumter sent his commission to General Greene, whom he thought impro- perly partial to Lee. Greene returned it to him, with monk's corn i: r. 311 many expressions of kindness and compliment ; and, cheer- fully yielding his private grievances to his sense of patriot- ism and duty, he resumed its responsibilities without hesi- tation or reluctance. The fall of the several British posts, scattered through- out the country, gradually confined the British to ver^ nirrow limits. The American cordon was gradually and firmly closing around them, confining them to the seaboard. The few posts which they occupied, within the inierior, were severally assailed by detached bodies of the Ameri- can militia; and, while Sumter himself proceeded against the post at Monk's Corner, occupied by the nin'^teenth regiment, his cavalry, under Colonel Hampton, was suc- cessfully engaged at other places. A large force of mounted refugees were dispersed by this command, and the British post at Dorchester broken up. The expedition against Monk's Corner was anticipated — Colonel Coates, who commanded the Briiish, withdrawing, during the night, across a bridge, from which the militiamen ap- pointed to guard it had thought proper to retire. Sumter rapidly pursued the retreating enemy. Coates, meanwhile, had succeeded in occupying a strong position in the dwelling and outhouses of Shubrick's plantation. A san- guinary conflict ensued, in which, after repeated efforts, wanting in artillery, the Americans, who were led by Sumter and Marion, were compelled to retire. But the loss of the British was very heavy. With these events, of which our rapid summary can afford but a very imperfect idea, closes the military career of Thomas Sumter. Fatigue and wounds had temporarily exhausted his energies and strength, and he needed a respite from toil, and the pure atmosphere of tl/e moun- tains, for his restoration. When able to resume liis duties, the war was virtually at an end. During his retirement, one great battle was fought — that of the Eufav/s ; his bri- gade being oresent, and behaving admirably , under tha 312 CHARLES SCOTT. command of Marion and Henderson. This was the last great effort of the British. The republic was safe. The domestic legislature was re-established, and the enemy sullenly retired from the shores which he had vainly laboured to subdue. General Sumter survived long after the independence of his country was established — long after the government had proved its virtues, and the people their principles, in establishing themselves as a nation. His public services were not forgotten by the country he had served so faith- fully. For many years he was a member of the American Congress ; first, as a representative, and afterwards as a senator. He lived to a mature old age, honoured and re- spected to the last; and died on the first of June, 1832, at his residence near Bradford Springs, South Carolina, in the ninety-eighth year of his age. BRIGADIEK-GENERAL CHARLES SCOTT. Charlf.s Scott, of Virginia, served in the beginning of the Revolution as a colonel, and in April, 1777, was pro- moted to the rank of brigadier-general. He was with the army in New Jersey during the next two campaigns, and was one of the four generals (Stirling, Wayne, Scott, and Woodford) who advised the commander-in-chief, against the opinions of a majority of a council, to attack Philadel- phia. In 1777 he was employed in the recruiting service in Virginia, and the legislature of that state was anxious that he should remain there for its defence ; but Wash- ington ordered him to South Carolina, and being taken prisoner at the capitulation of Charleston, he was not ex- changed until near the close of the war. MAJOR-GENERAL CHARLES C. PINCKNEY. The head of the Pinckney family, in South Carolina, came over to that province, from Great Britain, some time in the year 1692. Charles Pinckney, his son, became a person of eminence in the colony, and was at one time its chief justice. Charles Cotesworth, the subject of this memoir, was born at Charleston, South Carolina, on the 25th day of February, 1746. At this period, and up to the opening of the Revolution, it was the custom of the wealthy Carolinians to educate their sons in England. This custom was of importance to the colony in its struggle with the mother country. It furnished a large Dody of highly educated men, who were accomplished in he use of all the weapons of intellect which could be brought against them ; and made the transition easy, from the dependent condition of a colony, to the self-sustaining attitude of the republican states. In compliance with •:riis custom, Charles Cotesworth Pinckney was taken to England, when but seven years old, with his brother Thomas — afterwards major-general also — who was still younger. Five years of private tuition fitted Charles Cotesworth for Westminster, whence he was removed, in due course of progress, to Christ Church, Oxford, which he left, at the age of eighteen, with the reputation of being a fine scholar. From Oxford, he entered, as a law student, at the Temple. His industry was not relaxed in prosecuting the study of his profession ; and, prepared to enter upon the business of life, he returned to South Carolina, after a short tour on the continent, and a nine months' devotion to military study at the Royal Academy of Caen, in Normandy. Vol. II. 27 3i3 314 CHARLES COTES WORTH PINCKNEY. His comniission to practise in the provincial courts is dated January 19, 1770. He soon attracted the atten- tion and patronage of the public. His personal appear ance was in his favour — the elegance and ease of his deportment — his manly unaffectedness — his high sense of honour, and his extensive legal knowledge. His rank among his legal brethren was soon declared, in his appointment, by Sir Egerton Leigh — then his majesty's attorney-general of the province — as his deputy or sub- stitute, on circuit, in the district and precinct courts ot Camden, Georgetown, and the Cheraws, This appoint- ment took place when he was only twenty-seven — an early age for such a distinction, in those days of long probation. But his professional progress was about to be arrested when promising most fairly. The clouds. of revolution began to overspread the American firmament. Pinckney had long before anticipated the tempest, and had decided upon his course. Sixteen years of absence had not weaned his affections from his native soil. The battle of Lexington was the signal for a general expres- sion of feeling and opinion. In none of the colonies was this expression more prompt or more decided than in South Carolina. Pinckney took his position with the Gadsdens, the Rutledges, the Draytons, and other great men of that province. At the assembling of the pro- vincial Congress, in Charleston, on the first day of June, 1775, it was almost instantly resolved to raise two regi- ments. Pinckney was elected captain in the first, and his colonel was Christopher Gadsden. The appointment implied immediate duty; and we find him, accordingly, setting forth on the recruiting service. His quarters were fixed at Newburn, North Carolina. Having obtained his recruits, he returned to his regiment, which was soon placed on the continental establishment. Overt acts of hostility had already taken place in South Carolina: such as training the guns of a fort upon British ships of war, APPOINTED COLONEL. 315 and throwing cargoes of tea into the ocean. Captain Pinckney was advanced to a majority ; and he had become one of the most active and energetic of the Council of Safety. We find him, on the night of the 19th December, 1775, heading a detachment of two hundred rank and file, crossing from the city to Haddrill's Point, and, under the direction of Colonel Moultrie, throwing up a breast- work, the guns of which, by daylight of the following morning, were in condition to be used upon the British men-of-war — driving them from their anchorage, and finally from the harbour. He had now become lieutenant- colonel, and appears equally active and successful in the performance of civil and military duties. As a member of the General Assembly, he takes his place with the most conspicuous persons, always distinguished by a course of discretion and decision. The activity of the Carolinians w-as well calculated to provoke the attention of the ministry, and an expedition was planned against them, under Commodore Sir Peter Parker and Sir Henry Clinton. In preparing for the defence of the city, the first regiment — of which Pinckney was second in com mand — was assigned a post at Fort Johnson, a fortress which occupied a point nearly midway between Fort Sul livan and the city. The history of this invasion finds its more appropriate place in other parts of this volume. The defence of Fort SulHvan, on the 28th June, 1776, under Colonel Moultrie, effectually defeated the objects of the expedition ; and the first regiment, at Fort Johnson — a stronger post than Fort Sullivan — were compelled to re- main inactive spectators of the bravery their comrades of the second were displaying on the threshold of the har- bcur. On the 29th October, 1776, Ueutenant-Colonel Pinck- ney rose to the command of the first regiment, with the rank of colonel — Gadsden having been appointed a bri- gadier, by Congress. But the battle of Fort Sullivan 316 CHARLES COTESWORTH PINCKNEY. procured for the province a two years' respite from war The eager military spirit of Pinckney was not 6'atis'fied with inactivity ; and he left Carolina to join the Ameri- can array under Washington. The commander-in-chief was soon sensible of his merits, and he received an ap- pointment in the general's family, as aid-de-camp. In this capacity, he was present at the battles of Brandy- wine and Germantown, where, by his fearlessness, activ- ity, and intelligence, he confirmed all the favourable im- pressions he had made upon Washington, secured his confidence, and was subsequently honoured by him with the most distinguished military and civil appointments. Thus he served, until the tide of war, rolling once more back upon the South, threatened South Carolina with a new invasion. At the first aspect of danger in his native State, Pinckney hurried to its defence, and to the com- mand of his regiment. General Howe demanded the assistance of the troops of South Carolina to put down and punish the loyalists of Georgia and Florida. The inroads of these people had harassed to desperation the peaceable inhabitants of the former colony ; and it was indispensable that a de- cided movement should be made to save her from utter ruin. Pinckney was ordered to her assistance. He joined General Howe at a sickly season of the year ; and the climate and exposure, with a succession of arduous du- ties, marching and countermarching, in pursuit of an enemy whose scattered banditti found ready refuge in the swamps and forests, with which their practices had made them familiar, rendered the campaign one of singular hardship. Its object was, in great measure — though for a season only — attained. The loyalists were temporarily subdued — taught modesty and caution — and the people of Georgia were aflforded a brief respite from the presence of their enemies. Of the sufferings of the continentals, in this expedition, some impression will be formed, from SAVANNAH AND CHARLESTON. 317 the fact that eleven hundred men, who went on the ser- vice, the toils of two months only reduced to three hun dred and fifty, fit for duty. Disease only, and not the weapons of the enemy, had made this fearful havoc. Colonel Pinckney returned to Charleston about mid- summer, and was soon actively engaged in duties which afforded few chances for repose. Georgia fell into pos- session of the British, and Brigadier-General Prevost, an active and enterprising officer, taking advantage of the absence of General Lincoln, with the principal regular force of the South, in the interior, made a rapid dash across the Savannah, with a large body of light troops, in the hope of taking Charleston by a coup-de-main. In the marches and mancEuvres which followed this attempt, an opportu- nity was given to bring out the fine military qualities of Colonel Pinckney. His reputation as a soldier continued to rise, and his regiment, which with the fifth South Car- olina formed the second column in the desperate assault on the lines of Savannah by the united forces of America and France, carried off a full share of honours from one of the most bloody combats of the Revolution. Two attempts upon South Carolina had now failed. Circumstances were more auspicious to a third. Georgia was in possession of the British ; the South Carolina troops had been terribly diminished in their struggles to maintain intact the securities and freedom of the sister colony ; and the British commanders in New York,, un- fortunate in their late northern campaigns, now turned Ttieir eyes upon the South. The British army, in great strength, and led by the commander-in-chief, in person, aj)peaied early in February, 1780, within thirty miles of Charleston. An army often thousand men were landed, prepared to make regular approaches against the city ; while a powerful naval armament made its appearance before the harbour. Charleston was ill-prepared for tne encounter. The Stite w'as never less competent to meet 27* 318 CHARLES COTES WORTH PINCKNET. the exigency of war. The force which could be brought together, for the defence of the city, inchiding the inhabit- ants able to bear arms, consisted of little more than five thousand men. To Fort Moultrie was assigned a body of three hundred, and the command was given to Colonel Pinckney. The post was one of distinction. The ground was the Thermopylce of Carolina. But, taking advan- tage of a strong southwardly wind and a flood tide. Ad- miral Arbuthnot, who commanded the British fleet, swept rapidly by the fort with his ships. Still, ihey were not suffered to effect the passage with impunity. Pinckney opened his batteries upon them, and continued the fire as long as the vessels were within the range of his metal ; and he did them mischief enough to show w^hat the event must have been had they a second time stopped to en- gage in a regular conflict. Twenty-seven of the British seamen were killed or wounded. The Richmond's fore- topmast was shot away ; the Acetus was run aground, near Haddrill's Point, and was fired and abandoned by her crew ; and the fleet, more or less, sustained considerable damage. The disappointment of Pinckney was great, that nothing more could be done at a spot which had done so famously on a previous occasion; but he wasted no time in idle lamentations. The enemy was still before the city, and the opportunity was present for another struggle in which ambition and patriotism might equally find fields for exertion. He left Fort Moultrie accord- ingly, taking with him a detachment of the garrison, and returned to the city of Charleston, with the resolution of a son, determining to share her fortunes. The siege w'as a protracted one — unnecessarily so, since the fortifications were field-works only, and the numbers of the enemy twice as great as those of the garrison. We shall not follow the daily progress of the siege, but proceed to the event. As long as courage could avail, or skill, or endurance, the example of Pinckney was such PRISONKR OF WAR. 319 as lo bring out all the energies and strength of the citi zens. But the Iroops were too few to man the works ; the fire of the enemy had long since shown itself superior to that of the garrison ; the houses were half in ruins, the small-pox was prevailing fatally, and famine at length made its appearance to aid the assailants. Still, though the case seemed to most others hopeless, Pinckney was by no means disposed to despair. At the council of war which was summoned to deliberate upon the surrender of the city, he delivered his opinion against the measure in the following determined language : '« I will not say, gentlemen," he said, "that, if the enemy should attempt to carry our lines by storm, we should be able success- fully to resist them ; but I am convinced that it is in our power so to cripple the army which is before us, that, although we may not survive to enjoy the benefits our- selves, yet, to the United States they will prove incalcu- lably great. Considerations of self are wholly out of the question. They cannot influence any member of this council. My voice is for rejecting all terms of capi- tulation, and for continuing hosiilities to the last ex- tremity." The place capitulated in May, 1780, after a close in- vestiture, by land and sea, of nearly three months. Colo- nel Pinckney became a prisonerof war ; and was subject, with the other prisoners, to a captivity full of privations and persecutions. He received intelligence of his ex- change and release from captivity, when it could be no longer useful to his military ambition, on the 19th Feb- ruary, 1782. He had been nearly two years a prisoner. His release was followed by promotion. His commis- sion, as brigadier, was dated at Princeton, in 1783, when the war was virtually at an end. The return of peace found his resources nmch impaired, and he resumed the practice of the law. To this he brought the most liberal spirit, as well as the most rigid sense of justice and pro- 320 CHARLES COTES WORTH PINCKNEY, priety. Governed by the highest principle, his business was neveitlieless Inrjj^ely protluctive ; sometimes yielding four thousand guineas in a single year, — a large profes- sional return in our country, at any period, and particu- larly then. He was offered a place on the supreme bench ; the post of secretary of war, as successor to General Knox ; and, on the removal of Randolph, that of secretary of state. All these honours he declined, but the mission to France, urged upon him in a letter from Washington, dated Jidy 8, 1796, he accepted, from a conviction of duty. He arrived in Paris on the 5th of December, had an interview at the foreign office, and soon saw that the government of the Directory was determined not to re- ceive him. His fiunous reply to an intimation that peace might be secured with money, — « Millions for defence, but not a cent for tribute !" was characteristic. After two months' residence in the capital he was ordered to quit France. He was joined in Holland by Marshall and Gerry, and a new effort to settle the difficulties between the two nations was without success. Returning to America he received the general applause for his firm and wise conduct, and on the organization of the pro- vincial army was appointed a major-general. The storm passed without an appeal to arras, and he retired to the quiet of his home. He was in the convention which adopted the Constitution of the United States, and in 1790 he helped to frame that of South Carolina ; but the chief portion of his old age was passed in the pursuits of science and the pleasures of rural life, at his seat on Pinckney Island. General Pinckney expired in his eightieth year, in Charleston, on the 16th August, 1825, with the resigna- tion of a Christian, and that patient calm of mind, which had distinguished him throuijh life. MAJOR-GENERAL ROBERT HOWE. Robert Howe of North Carolina had the honour, with John Hancock and Samuel Adams, of being ex- cepted from the general pardon offered to the '« rebels" by the British commanders. He was one of the mem- bers of the committee of safety for the county of Bruns- wick, and was colonel of the second regiment of North CaroUna militia. Soon after the affair of West Bridge, in Virginia, he marched into that colony and joined Colo- nel Woodford, with whom he was in command of Norfolk on the 1st of January, 1776, when that place was attacked and destroyed by Lord Dunmore. Woodford obtained a furlough to visit his family, and Howe, after attending to the removal of the houseless citizens, wrote to him from East Bridge, on the 9th of February — "We have removed from Norfolk : thank God for that ! It is entirely destroyed : thank God for that also! and we shall soon, I hope, be in more comfortable quarters, when I shall be equally pious and grateful for that likewise. Our enemies (except two six-pounders) did not attempt to molest us, either in de- stroying the remains of the town, or in our retreat, but remained patient spectators of the whole scene. I expected they would be making excursions the next day, and sent Major Ruffin with a strong party to interrupt them. They had collected some sheep, which we took : they stood a small brush, and lost five men : we made eight prisoners, and hear they had many wounded. Providence most graciously and remarkably continuing to protect us, or- dained that we shotdd not lose one, or have one wounded, although they returned our fire, and gave our people, besides, a smart cannonade. I send anorher party to- morrow : they shall have no rest for the soles of their Jeet," X 321 3252 ROBERT now E. While thus actively employed in Virginia, ne was ordered to return to his native colony, to oppose the "Regulators" and "Highlanders," and wasontiie eve of marching when the arrival of General Clinton in Hampton Roads rendered it necessary to concentrate as large a force as possible in that vicinity, and the order was counter- manded. On the 1st of March he was appointed a briga- dier by the Continental Congress ; the assemblies of Norih Carolina and Virg-inia had recojjnised his services in votes of thanks ; and to crown his reputation, General Clinton, on the 5th of May, excepted him from the pardon otiered in the king's name to all Carolinians who should lay down their arms and return to their duty and the blessings of a tree government as established by the crown. General Howe was ordered to the southern department, composed of the states of Virginia, North and South Caro- lina, and Georgia, and in March, 1777, it was proposed by the chief to send him against St. Augustine, but upon consideration the project was then abandoned. On the 20th of October he was made a major-general, and in the following summer, the reduction of St. Augustine having been decided upon, he was intrusted with the conduct of an expedition for that purpose, and proceeded, with little opposition, at the head of two thousand regulars and South Carolina and Georgia militia, as far as St. Mary's river, where the British had erected a fort, called Tonyn in compliment to the governor of Florida. This, upon General Howe's approach, they destroyed, and after some skirmishing they retreated toward St. Augustine, but an epedemic setting in and destroying about one-fourth of the Americans, General Howe was compelled to abandon the pursuit and return to the north. A British force under Lieutenant Colonel Campbell was now despatched from New York, to co-operate with General Prevosf, commanding in East Florida, for the invasion of Georo-ia, the defence of which was committed \o Geueral FALL OF SAVANNAH. 323 Howe, Campbell landed under the convoy of Commodore Hyde Parker at the mouth of the Savannah river, about the 20th of December, with two thousand men. General Howe stationed himself with six hundred regulars and a small body of militia on the main road to the town of Savannah, with a river on his left and a morass in front ; but the British commander, while making arrangements to attack him, received information from a negro of a private path to the right, through which he might march without being discovered, and immediately sent Sir James Baird by this route to the rear of the Americans, who, surprised by the double attack which followed, soon broke and fled in disorder, yielding to the enemy an easy and complete victory. The American loss was more than one hundred killed, and thirty-eight officers and four hundred and fifteen privates prisoners, with the fort, a large quantity of military stores, provisions, and the shipping in the river. Prevost, advancing from Florida, took Sunbury, and after joining Campbell assumed the command of the united forces. Two thousand North Carolinians were marching to the relief of General Howe, but they arrived too late ; that part of his army which escaped, retreated up the Savannah river, and crossed into South Carolina. After this disaster, and a court of inquiry, by which he was honourably acquitted of all censure for its occurrence, General Howe joined the commander-in-chief on the Hudson, and he was in command of West Point, when that post was committed to Arnold a short time before The Treason. In the beginning of 1781 he commanded the troops sent to quell the mutiny in the Pennsylvania and New Jersey regiments, and for his judicious performance of the duty was thanked by the commander-in-chief in a general order dated the 30th of January. In June, 1783, he was ordered on a similar errand to Philadelphia, He remained with the army until it was disbanded. BRIGADIER-GENERAL JOSEPH FRYE. Joseph Frye was born in Andover, Massachusetts, in 1711. He was an active and intelligent man, and at an early age represented his town in the general court of the colony. He was at the siege of Louisbourg, and was colonel at the unfortunate capture of Fort William Henrj by Montcalm, in 1757. The French officer La Corne, who had great influence among the savages, sent him word that he well remembered the humanity he had ^hown to his countrymen in Nova Scotia ; that he should embrace the present opportunity to express his gratitude ; and that neither he nor any of the Massachusetts troops should receive insult or injury from the Lidians. But during the whole transaction he kept at a distance, neither affording the promised protection, nor using his influence to moderate the vengeance of the Indians, who murdered their prisoners before the eyes of the general. In the confusion of the attack, an Indian chief seized Colonel Frye, plundered and stripped him of his clothes, and Jed him into the woods in a direction and manner whirh left no doubt as to his design. Arriving at a secluded spot, where he expected to meet his fate, he determined to make one effort for his life; and sprang upon the savage, overpowered and killed him, and fleeing rapidly into a thick wood, eluded the search of the Indians, and after wandering in various directions for several days, subsisting on berries, reached Fort Edward. The Provincial Congress of Massachusetts, on the 21st of June, 1775, appointed Colonel Frye a major-general, and on the 10th of January, 1776, he received the ap- pointment of brigadier-general from the Continental Con- 324 ARTEMAS WARD. 325 gress. After remaining a short time with the Massachu- setts troops at Cambridge, he retired from active service, on account of his age and growing infirmities. He removed with several of his connections to the frontier of Maine, and founded the town of Fryeburgh. MAJOR-GENERAL ARTEMAS WARD. Artemas Ward, the first major-general appointed by the Continental Congress, was a native of Shrewsbury, Massachusetts, and was graduated at Harvard college in 1748. At an early age he entered into public life as a representative in the colonial assembly, and at a later period he was chosen to the council, and was one of the regularly chosen members displaced by the "Mandamus councillors" in 1774. He was also a delegate in the first Provincial Congress. He had obtained some reputation for military abilities, and on the organization of the Massachusetts troops in 1775 he was appointed commander-in-chief, and held this rank when the battle of Bunker Hill was fought, on the 17th of June. He continued at the head of the army until Washington arrived at Cambridge, and was appointed senior major-general in the line, but retired from the service in the following March. In 1778 General Ward was a member of the executive council of Massachusetts, and in 1791 was a member of the National Congress, and during all these changes appears to have retained his connection with the courts of law. In October, 1775, he was made chief justice of the Common Pleas, and contin led in the office until his resignation in 1798, His judicial conduct, especially during Shay's rebellion in 1786, has been warmly and justly commended. He died, after a protracted illness, on the 28th of October, 1800, aged seventy-thn-e years. Vol. II 28 BRIGADIER-GENERAL RUFUS PUTNAM. RuFus Putnam was born in Sutton, Massachusetts, on the 9th of April, 1738. He served an apprenticeship to the business of a millwright, which was completed in his nineteenth year, when he enlisted as a common soldier in the provincial army, with which he continued through the campaigns of 1757, '58, '59 and '60, when the sur- render of Montreal ended the war between Great Britain and France. He now returned to Massachusetts, married, and settled in the town of New Braintree, to pursue the vocation for which he had been educated. He soon dis- covered that to carry it on siiccessfully, he must have some knowledge of mathematics, and for several years devoted his leisure to the study of that science, in which he attained to great proficiency, particularly in its appli- cation to navigation and surveying. In January, 1773, Mr. Putnam sailed from New York for East Florida, with a committee appointed to explore lands there, which it was supposed had been granted by parliament to the provincial olHcers and soldiers who had served in the French war. On arriving at Pensacola it was ascertained that there had been no such appro- priation, but Putnam was hospitably received by the governor, and appointed deputy surveyor of the pro- vince. The prospect of hostilities with the mother coun- try, however, induced him after a short residence in Florida to return to Massachusetts, and it is a proof of the estimation in which he was held, that he was com- missioned as a lieutenant-colonel in one of the first regi- ments raised after the battle of Lexington. When Wash- ington arrived in Cambridge to assume the command of the army, he found Putnam actively engaged at the 326 RUFUS PUTNAM. 327 head of an engineer corps in throwing up d'^fences at various points in front of Roxbury ; and the ability ne dis- played in this service, which he had undertaken with much reluctance, secured for him the favourable con- «ideration of the commander-in-chief and of General Lee, ind the former soon after wrote to Congress that the mill- "wright was altogether a more competent officer than any of the French gentlemen to whom it had given appoint- ments in that line. On the 20th of March, 1776, Putnam arrived in New York, and as chief engineer he superintended all the de- fences in that part of the country during the ensuing cam- paign. In August of this year he was appointed by Con- gress an engineer, with the rank of colonel ; but in the course of the autumn, in consequence of some dissatis- faction with the action of Congress in regard to his corps, he left it to take the command of one of the Massachu- setts regiments. In the following spring he was attached to the northern army, and he distinguished himself at the battle of Stillwater at the head of the fourth and fifth regiments of Nixon's brigade. A few days after the surprise of Stony Point he was appointed to the command of a regiment m Wayne's brigade, in which he served until the end of the campaign. From February to July, 1782, he was em- ployed as one of the commissioners to adjust the claims of citizens of New York for losses occasioned by the allied armies, and on the 7th of January, 1783, he was promoted to be a brigadier-general. After the close of the war, General Putnam w^as ap- pointed to various civil offices in his native State, and he acted as aid to General Lincoln, in quelling Shay's re- bellion, in 1787. In April, 1788, as superintendent of the affiiirs of the Ohio Company, he founded the village of Ma- rietta, the first perm^anent settlement on the eastern part of the North-west Territory. On the 5th of May, 1792, he was appointed brigadier-general of the army lo act 328 FRANCIS NASH. against the Indians, and on the 27th of September con- cluded an important treaty wiih eight tribes at Port Viu' cent, now called Vincennes. He was soon after taken ill, and arriving in Philadelphia on the 13th of February, 1773, to make a report of his proceedings, resigned his commission. In October of the same year, he was made stirveyor-general of the United States, and he held this office until September, 1803. In 1802 he was a member of the convention which formed the Constitution of Ohio. From this period the infirmities of age compelled him to decline all employments. He resided at Marietta, where he died in his eighty-seventh year, on the 1st of May, 1824. BRIGADIER-GENERAL FRANCIS NASH. Francis Nash, who was appointed a brigadier-general in the continental army in February, 1777, was a native of North Carolina, and had been an active officer in the militia of that province. In 1771, he commanded a company, and particularly distinguished himself in an action with a body of insurgents who, under the name of Regulators, had risen in arms to the number of fifteen hundred, for the avowed purpose of shutting up the courts of justice, destroying all the officers of law and all lawyers, and prostrating the government itself. A body of one thousand militia marched against them, and in a battle at Alraansee totally defeated them. When the Revolution commenced, Nash received a colonel's commission from the North Carolina convention, and upon his appointment as brigadier-general by Congress he joined the army under Washington. In the battle of Germantown, in October, 1727, he was mortally wounded at the head of his brigade, which, with Maxwell's, formed the reserve of General Lord Stirling. He died a few days after. MAJOR-GENERAL ADAM STEPHEN. When the governor of Virginia, in 1754, determined Dn sending an expedition to the West, under Colonel Washington, Captain Adam Stephen joined him on the march, with his company, and was in the skirmish of Great Meadows, in July of that year. About this time he was appointed a major in Washington's regiment, and in 1755 was promoted to the rank of lieutenant-colonel. In the beginning of 1756, while Washington was absent from the army on a visit to General Shirley at Boston, Stephen was in command at head-quarters in Winchester, where he was employed in disciplining the troops, and in superintending the erection of the fortification called Fort Loudon, in honour of the nobleman who had now suc- ceeded General Shirley as commander of the British army in America. Early in 1757, the alarm was spread that a large force of French and Indians was gathering in South Carolina, and Colonel Stephen was ordered by Lord Loudon to" march with a detachment of Virginia troops to the relief of that colony ; but South Carolina was not attacked, the timely arrival of fresh troops from England quieted alarms in that quarter, and Colonel Stephen soon after returned to Winchester, In 1763, we find Colonel Stephen in command of the forces raised for the defence of the frontiers against the Indians, and his services are known t( have been of importance in bringing to a close the French and Indian wars. When the Revolution commenced, Colonel Stephen was appointed by the Virginia convention to command one of ihe seven regiments raised by that colony. On the 4th of September, 1776, he was made a brigadier m the conti- 28* 329 330 E L 1 A S D A V T O N. nental service, and on the 19th of Febninry, 1777, was pro- moted to be a major-general. His division was attached to the main army under Washington. In the battle ot Brandywine he was at the head of his division in the column fronting the enemy, and conducted with great spirit and judgment. At Gerraantown he was in the column of Greene, which attacked the right wing of the enemy, and behaved with his customary gallantry. General Stephen's account of that battle, in which censure is thrown upon the troops of his division for retreating, is given by Mr. Sparks in his " Life and Writings of Wash- ington." Of his subsequent history we know nothing, except that in the winter of 1777 he was dismissed from the service. BRIGADIER-GENERAL ELIAS DAYTON. Emas Dayton was colonel of one of the regimentj raised in New Jersey immediately after the comm.ence ment of the war. He was ordered on the 23d of April, 1776, to reinforce the army in Canada, but on his arrival at Albany his destination was countermanded, and he was sent to quell the rising spirit of hostility which Sir John Johnson was ascertained to be fomenting in Tryon county. He remained in Johnstown several weeks, and, Sir John having escajied arrest, seized his papers, and had Lady Johnson conducted to Albany to be a hostage for the peaceable conduct of her husband. Near the end of the year Colonel Dayton's regiment was ordered from Fort Schuyler to Ticonderoga, and soon after to New Jersey, where he was employed in the next campaign. In January, 1781, he exerted himself judiciously in suppress- ing the revolt in the New Jersey line. He was promoted to be a brigadier-general on the 7th of January, J783. BRIGADIER-GENERAL EDWARD HAND Edward Hand, one of the most gallant of the fonign officers who served in our revolutionary army, was born at ClydufT, King's county, Ireland, on the 31st of Decern ber, 1744, and when about thirty years of age came to America, as surgeon's mate in the Royal Irish Brigade. Resigning this post, he settled in Pennsylvania, for the practice of his profession, and in the beginning of the Revolution joined Thompson's regiment and was chosen lieutenant-colonel. On the 1st of March, 1776, he was promoted to be a colonel, and was at the head of his regiment in the battle of Long Island, on the even of the memorable retreat from Brooklyn, of which he has left a graphic account.* Up to the battle of Trenton it has been stated that his corps was distinguished in every action of the war. On the 1st of April, 1777, he was appointed a brigadier-general. In October, 1778, he succeeded General Stark in his command at Albany, and soon after was engaged in an expedition against the Indians of central New York. On^the formation of the light infantry corps, in August, 1780, the command of one of the two brigades of which it was composed was assigned to General Hand, and that of the other to General Poor. Near the close of this year he was ap- pointed adjutant-general in place of Scammell, who was compelled to resign the office by the condition of his private fortune ; and he continued in this post until the army was disbanded, discharging its duties in a manner thai educed the special and warm approval of the chief. In 1798, when Washington consented to accept the • bee the Life of President Reed, by William B. Reed, vol. i. p. 227 331 332 PETER MUHLENBURG. command jf the provincial army, he recommended General Hand for reappointment to the same station. General Hand died at Rockford in Lancaster county, Pennsylvania, on the 3d of September, 1802. BRIGADIER-GENERAL PETER MUHLENBURG. Peter Muhlenburg, a son of the Rev. Dr. Henry Melchior Muhlenburg, founder of the Lutheran church in America, was born in Philadelphia about the year 1745, and after studying divinity with his father was settled over a church in Woodstock, Virginia. He watched with earnest and keen-sighted vigilance the progress of discontents, and educated his congregation for the duties of freemen ; and when the Revolution commenced he had little trouble in enlisting a regiment, of which he was chosen the com- mander. He entered the pulpit with sword and cockade to preach his farewell sermon, and the next day marched to join the army. He was appointed a brigadier-general on the 21st of February, 1777, and was with Wayne at the storming of Stony Point in 1779, and with Lafayette in Virginia, in 1781. He appears to have been on terms of intimacy with most of the officers, and to have been re- spected by Washington for his courage, decision and integ- rity. He had little opportunity to distinguish himself, but his conduct at Yorktown has been commended. After the close of the war General Muhlenburg settled in Pennsylvania, and was vice-president of the executive council of the commonwealth, and a representative and senator in Congress ; and he received from the President of the United States the offices of supervisor of the excise in Pennsylvania, and collector of the customs for Phila- delphia, the last of which he held at the time of his death, which occurred on the 1st of October, 1807, near Schuyl- kill, in Montgomery county. BRIGADIER-GENERAL ANDREW LEWIS. Andrew Lewis, son of a gentleman who came to Vir- ginia from Ireland, whither a Huguenot ancestor had fled from France upon the revocation of the edict of Nantes, was born in Augusta county in that colony, and was one of six brothers distinguished for their bravery in defend- ing the infant settlements against the Indians. He was, with all his brothers, in a company, of which the eldest was captain, at Braddock's defeat, and in October, 1758, acquired much reputation by his conduct at Fort Du- quesne, where he saved the Highlanders under Major Grant from being entirely cut to pieces, and with that officer and most of his men was taken prisoner and carried to Montreal. The Scotchman wrote to General Forbes that Lewis had caused his defeat, and his letter falling into the hands of the commander of the enemy, who knew its falsehood, it was shown to Lewis, who chal- .enged Grant, and upon his refusal to fight gave him such a token of his estimation as could be received only by a lying coward. This was the same Grant who, in 1775, declared in the British House of Commons, that he knew the Americans well, and would "venture to predict that they would never dare face an English army, being destitute of every requisite to make good soldiers." Lewis was several times in the colonial legislature, and was a commissioner from Virginia, with the commission- ers of Pennsylvania, New York, and New England, to treat with the Six Nations at Fort Stan wick, in 1768. Alluding to his strength, stature, symmetry, and grave and commanding demeanour, the governor of New York re- marked on that occasion that "the earth seemed to tremble under him as he walked." He was engaged 333 334 ANDREW L E W I S. in all the Iiullan wars of the west, clown to the Revo- lution, and was tlie commanding general of the Virginia troops at the battle of Point Pleasant, on the 10th of May, 1774. General Washington, with whom Lewis had been at Fort Necessity, and umler whom he had served in various capacities, had formed a very high estimate of his abili- ties and character, and it is said that when the chief command of the revolutionary army was proposed to him, he expressed a wish that it had been given to his old associate. Lewis himself was very much disajv pointed when placed no higher than a brigadier in the continental army, and otfended that Stephen, who had served under him, was preferred for a major-general. The chief wrote to him on this subject from Morristown on the 30th of March, 1777 : *' I was much disappointed," he observes, " at not perceiving your name in the list of major-generals, and most sincerely wish that the neglect may not induce you to abandon the service. Let me beseech you to rollect that the period has now arrived when our most vigorous exertions are wanted, when it is highly and indispensably necessary for gentlemen of abilities in any line, but more especially in the military, not to withhold themselves from public employment, or sutler any small punctilios to persuade them to retire from their country's service. The cause requires your aid ; no one more sincerely wishes it than I i\o. A candiil retlec- tion oil the rank you held in the last war, added to a decent resjiect for the resolution oi' Congress ' not to be confuied in making or jnomotiug general otlicers to any regular line,' to the propriety of which all America sub- mittetl, may remove any uneasiness in your mind on the score of neglect. Upon my honour, I think it ought." Nevertheless, General Lewis, on the 15th of April, sent in his resignation, and the Congress accepted it. He was after wards a commisi;iouer to treat with the J E D E D I A II HUNTINGTON. 335 Indians at Fort Pitt; and Washington, wrilint; to him m rosjject to his services thcro, under dMa of the 15th of October, 1778, remarks, '^ If Congress are not con- vinced of the impropriety of a certain irreguhir promo- tion, they are the only set of men wlio require further and greater proofs than have already been given of the error of that measure." On his way liome from the Oliio, General Lewis was seized with a fever, in Bedford county, about forty miles from his residence, where he died. BRIG. GENERAL JEDEDIAII HUNTINGTON Jedediah Huntington, son of General Jabez Hunt- ington, was born in Norwich, the native place of h..9 father, on the 15lh of August, 1743, and was educated at Harvard college, where, upon his graduation at the age of twenty, he delivered the fn\st English oration ever pro- nounced in that university. He engaged in commercial Dursuits with his father, and at the beginning of the Revolution joined the "Sons of Liberty," and was chosen captain of a company, and soon afterward colonel of a regiment raised in Norwich. Joining the continental army, he was at Danbury, with fifty regulars and one hundred militia, when 'ri-vou iDuroached that town on the 26th of April, 1777. Resistance with such a force being useless, he retreated to the heights near the town, and when the neighbouring militia rallied under (General Silli- man, and they were joined by Generals Wooster and Arnold, he i)articipated in the skirmishes at llidgefield. On the 12th of May, 1777, Huntington was aj)pointe(l a brigadier-general, and in the autumn of that year he was with Generals Greene and Varnum in New Jersey, and in the following winter was with the army at Valley Forge. In March, 1778, he was appointed with General McDougall and Colonel Wigglesworth to 336 WILLIAM MAXWELL. investigate the causes of the loss of Forts Clinton and Montgomery on the Hudson; and he continued to serve in that part of the country until the close of the war. Upon the election of General Washington to the presi- dency, General Huntington was appointed collector of the customs for New London, and he removed to that city and held there this office for twenty-six years, resigning it in 1815. He was also some time treasurer of Con- necticut, and was an active member of the convention in that state which ratified the federal constitution. He died on the 25th of September, 181S, in the seventy- sixth year of his age. His first wife, a daughter of Governor Trumbull, died while he was on the way to ihe army in 1775; and his second, a sister of Bishop Moore, of Virginia, survived him, and died in 1831. T ii £ E N O,