Qass V-i 1: 
 Book-VLAi. 
 
THE 
 
 ILLUSTRATED """^ 
 
 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 
 
 GIVING AN ACCOUNT OF HIS EAELY DAYS, HIS NOBLE, PATRIOTIC AND 
 BRILLIANT PUBLIC CAREER ; HIS MAGNANIMITY AND SELF- 
 DENIAL, HIS RETIREMENT TO HIS ESTATES AT MOUNT 
 VERNON ; AND FINALLY, HIS UNIVERSALLY 
 LAMENTED DEATH. 
 
 WITH 
 
 VIVID PEN PAINTINGS OF BATTLES AiND INCIDENTS 
 OF THE REVOLUTION. 
 
 EMBRACING 
 
 MUCH NEW AND VALUABLE INFORMATION 
 
 OKRIVKD FROM THE RESEARCHES OF MK. LOSSING AND PAPERS OF RIIFUS PUT^fAM. 
 
 By J. T. HEADLEY, 
 
 AIITHOR OK " WASHINGTON AND HIS GENERAM," " NAPOLEON AND HI3 
 MARSHALS," "the SACRED MOUNTAINS," ETC. 
 
 MANY OF 1VHI0M AI£K BEAUTIFULLY COLORED, REPRESENTING BATTLE SCENES, 
 INTERVIEWS, PORTRAITS. ETC., TOGETHER WITH A SPLENDID BIRD'S-EYK 
 • VIEW or MOUNT AERNON AND THE TOMB OP WASHINGTON. 
 
 SOLD ONLY BY SUBSCRIPTION. 
 
 NEW YORK: 
 PUBLISH]']!) BY G. & F . B t L 
 1859. 
 
•H43 
 
'(^ 
 
 03 
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 In preparing this work, my design has been to popularize 
 the Life of Washington by confining myself to events and 
 incidents intimately connected with him and his movements, 
 and thus make the work less voluminous than it would be 
 if it embraced a more detailed history of concurrent events. 
 
 Recent collections of documents throwing new light on 
 the war of the Revolution made such a work desirable. 
 Mr. Lossing, by his researches, has exhumed a vast amount 
 of interesting matter. All of Rufus Putnam's papers and 
 correspondence and diary have also been put in my hands, 
 which shed an entirely new light on some of the most in- 
 teresting events of the Revolution, and movements of 
 Washington. The reader will, therefore, find a vast num- 
 ber of facts in this work which have never before appeared 
 in any Life of Washington, but which add greatly to the 
 interest which surrounds his character. The Historical 
 Societies of different States have also yielded me, by their 
 valuable collections, much aid. Their efforts for the last 
 few years to gather and preserve old documents and letters, 
 which were fast passing away, have added greatly to the 
 material for any work connected with the Revolution. 
 The amount of my indebtedness to these new sources of 
 information will be readily perceived by the reader. As to 
 the rest, I have consulted the usual authorities on that 
 period of our history, a list of which would be too long to 
 give in this place 
 
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 
 STEEL ENGRAVINGS. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Portrait of Washington, from an Original Painting by Stuart in the Bostoa Athenaeum, 1 
 Portrait of Washington at the age of forty, from an Original Fainting in the possession 
 
 of George W. P. Custis 135 
 
 Putnam lleceiviug the Intelligence of the Battle of Lexington 175 
 
 Lafayette's Last Interview with Louis Sixteenth and ilarie Antoinette before his Depart- 
 ure for America 301 
 
 Washington at Valley Forge 373 
 
 The Oath at Valley Forge 385 
 
 WOOD ENGRAVINGS. 
 
 Washington and his Mother 19 y/' 
 
 Death of Jumonville ^8^' 
 
 Defeat of Braddock 61 '• 
 
 Burial of Braddock 75 • 
 
 Planting of the Royal Flag on the Ruins of Fort Duquesne 90 - 
 
 Chairing Colonel Wood as proxy for Washington 103 
 
 Washington's Wedding 115 
 
 Washington Dragging the Poacher Ashore 125 
 
 Descending the Ohio 14;5 
 
 Chr'stening the Liberty Tree 155 
 
 Duche's Prayer in Congress 165 
 
 Scene at Stockbridge, on Receiving News of the Battle of Lexington 185 
 
 Knox entering Camp with Artillery 193 
 
 Evacuation of Boston 209 
 
 The Bellman informed of the Passage of the Declaration of Independence 222 
 
 Tearing Down the Statue of George III 2S1 
 
 Young Callender Fighting his Gun 242' , 
 
 Washington endeavoring to Rally the Fugitives £51 '-^ 
 
 Quakei Lady Detaining the Enirlish General ,-. -- --^ • 262^ 
 
viiL LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 
 WaahingtoD and Captain Forest iuquiriDg for the Hessian Picket 271 
 
 WashiogtoQ at Princeton 291 
 
 Countrj-men Joining the Army under Gates 811 
 
 Washington Urging the Countryman to Greater Speed 828 
 
 Night Attack at Paoli 835 
 
 Attack on Fort Mifflin 847 
 
 Abandoning the Vessels at Gloucester 8C1 
 
 Washington and Lee at Monmouth 8<j7 
 
 Moll Pitcher at Monmouth AOO 
 
 Washington Taking Leave of the Armj 434 
 
 Washington at the Deathbed of young Custis M5 
 
 Washington Taking Leave of his Mother 'OT 
 
 Washington as a Farmer 'TO 
 
TABLE OF CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 Birth and Death of Great Men— Ancestry of George— Loss of his Father- 
 Sent to District School— Early History— Appointed Surveyor— Forest Life — 
 Goes to Barbadoes with a Sick Brother— Appointed Major over the Militia- 
 Sent a Commissioner to the French— Account of his Perilous Journey. - 
 
 CHAPTER n. 
 
 Washington sent against the French— Hostilities of the latter— Fort Duquesne— 
 Difficulties of the March- Dangerous Explorations— Message from the Half- 
 King— Night March— Attack on Jumonville— Feelings of Washington in his 
 First Battle— Final Results of it— Fort Necessity— Battle of the Great Mea- 
 dows—Washington Capitulates— Resigns in Disgust his Commission— Tart 
 Refusal to Join the Army under Governor Sharpe— Accepts Braddock's 
 Request to act as Volunteer Aid— Is taken Sick— Joins the Army— Battle of 
 Monongahela— Bravery of Washington — The Retreat — Death of Braddock — • 
 Washington Reads the Funeral Service — Burial by Torch-light — Scenes 
 around Fort Du Quesne — Demoniacal Jubilee of the Indians — Washington at 
 Mount Vernon— Disgust with the Government — Apppointed Commander-in- 
 Chief of the Virginia Forces— Head-quarters at Winchester— Inroads of the 
 fndians— Terror of the Settlers— Sternness of Washington— False Rumors- 
 Difficulty with Captain Dagworthy — Goes to Boston to refer it to Governor 
 Shirley— Reception on the way— Falls in love with Miss Phillips of New- 
 York — His Return. ..--..---« 
 
 CHAPTER m. 
 
 Fresh Hostilities of the Indians— Attempts to Supersede Washington — Anony- 
 mous Libels — Washington wishes to Resign — Prevented by his Friends — 
 Establishes a Line of Forts — Harassing Nature of his Duties — Attends a 
 Convention at Philadelphia — His Sickness and Retirement to Mount Vernon — 
 Progress of the War — Frederick the Great — Washington's first Acquaint- 
 ance with Mrs. Custis — Advance of the Army to Fort Du Quesne — Wash- 
 ington required to cut a New Road — His Forebodings likely to prove true — • 
 Capture of the Fort— Election of Washington to the House of Burgesses — 
 His Marriage — Life at Mount Vernon — Collision with a Poacher — Settles the 
 Soldiers' Claims— Expedition to the Western Wilderness to examine the 
 Wild Lands — Admirable Preparation for his Future Career. - - - 
 
 ix 
 
TABLE OF CONTENTS. 
 
 CUAPTER IV 
 
 Character of the Colonists— First Attempt to Tax the Provinces — Its Recep- 
 tion by the People — Taxation Discussed in the Britisli I'arlianicnt— Speech 
 of Colonel Barre — Attitude of Virginia — Speech of Patrick Henry — South 
 Carolina and Gadsden — Attacks on Stamp-Master J. lugersoU — First Con- 
 gress at New York — The Stamp Act Repealed— Excitement and Joy of the 
 Colonists — Washington's Views of it — Duties on Tea, Paper, etc. — Tea 
 tlirown overboard in Boston ILirbur — Port Bill — Virginia Assembly and 
 Conduct of Washington — Fast Day — Fairfax Resolutions — Washington's 
 Letter to Mr. Bryan Fairfax — IJe is Elected a Delegate to the First General 
 Congress — Action of Congress — Pra_ver by Duche — Washington's standing 
 in Congress— Lexington and Concord— Excitement of the People — Stock- 
 bridge — The Second Congress — Washington Chairman of every Committee — 
 Appointed Commander-in-Chief — Battle of Bunker Hill — Journey of Wash- 
 ington to Cambridge — Takes Command of the Army — Its Character — Ap- 
 jiearance of the Encampment — Washington's first order — (Vganization of 
 the Army — Diffleulties that beset him — Forced to act contrary to his 
 wishes. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 Washington Remonstrates against the Treatment of American Prisoners — 
 Sends Arnold to Quebec — Want of Powder in the Army — A new Army 
 raised — The National Flag first hoisted — Washington prevented from As- 
 saulting the Enemy's Works — His feelings under the delay — Thinks of the 
 Poor at Home — " Boston Blockaded," a farce — Washington takes Possession 
 of Dorchester Heights — Howe resolves to storm them — Attempt abandoned, 
 and the Evacuation of Boston commenctd — Sufferings of tlie Tories — Wash- 
 ington orders the Army to New York — Lee sent South — His Letter — Wa.sh- 
 ington Visits Congress — His Views of a Declaration of Independence — Defeat 
 of the Northern Army — Attempt to spread Disaffection in Washington's 
 Guard — Congress discusses the Declaration of Independence — Excitement 
 in Philadelphia at the final vote — Its reception by the Army and People — 
 Operations aroimd New York — Howe's Letter to George Washington, Esq. 
 The assembling of the British force — State of the two Armies. 
 
 CHAPTER YI. 
 
 The British laml on Long Island— Sickness of Greene — The Battle — Defeat of 
 Sullivan and Stirling — Masterly Retreat to New York — Causes of Failure — 
 New York abandoned — Retreat of Washington to Harla;m Heights — Land- 
 ing of the British at Kip's Bay — Poltroonery of the Americans and rage of 
 AVashington — His severe Order of the Day — Remarks on lliis Conduct of 
 Washington — Narrow Escai)e of Putnam with his Division — Skirmish be- 
 tween two Detachments and Death of Knowllon — Mancuvrc of Howe and 
 Baltic of Chatterton's Hill— Retreat of Washington— Fall of Fort Washing- 
 ton. ------- 
 
TABLEOFC (INTENTS. XI 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 Retreat of Washington through the Jerseys— Disorganization of his Army— 
 Finally takes post beyond the Delaware, near Trenton — Unaccountable 
 apathy— Washington takes advantage of it— Reinforced— Reorganization of 
 
 the Anny — Washington resolves to march on Trenton Passage of the 
 
 riyer — The Attack— The Victory — March on Princeton — Astonishment of 
 Cornwallis— Death of Colonel Rahl— The effect of the Victory upon the 
 Country — Poverty of the Army — Robert Morris, the noble Financier — 
 etc.; etc. ------------ 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 Washington's Fame in Europe— Barbarity of the Hessians — Depredations of 
 the Troops— General Heath summons Fort Independence to surrender — 
 Washington issues a counter Proclamation to that of Hovre — Illy received 
 in New Jersey — Five additional Major Generals and ten Brigadiers appoint- 
 ed — Inhuman treatment of American Prisoners by the British — Arnold and 
 Wooster drive Governor Tryon back to his ships — Meigs' Expedition to Sag 
 Harbor— The British Evacuate New Jersey — Arrival of Lafayette -His 
 Interview with Washington — The British land at Elk and march on Phila- 
 delphia—Washington advances to meet them — Skirmishing — Washington 
 re-crosses the Brandywine and takes position near Chad's Ford — Position 
 of the Northern Army, etc. .--».-. r 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 Battle of Brandywine — A new account of the loss of the Biitish, found among 
 ijrenerai Clinton's papers — Washington again offers Howe Battle — Defeat of 
 Wayne at Paoli — Philadelphia taken — Fortifications erected at Mud Bank 
 and Red Bank — Tenacity of Washington — Battle of Germantown — Cause 
 of the Defeat of the Americans. -------- 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 Fall of Burgoyne — Sermon of Timothy Dwight — Letter from Washington to 
 Howe — Attack on Fort Mercer and Death of Count Donop — Gallant Defence 
 and Fall of Fort IMifflin — Fall of Fort Mercer — March of Howe against 
 Washington, and Address of the latter to his Troops — The Conway Cabal 
 and fate of the head Conspirators— Valley Forge — Sufferings of the Soldiers — 
 Washington at Prayer— Labors of Washington and Inefficiency of Congress — 
 The Half-Pay Establishment— Washington's Answer to the Complaint that 
 he did not make a Winter Campaign — News of the Alliance of France — 
 Celebration of it in Valley Forge — Baron Steuben and the Effects of his 
 Discipline on the Army — Howe resolves to Evacuate Philadelphia — Council 
 of War in American Camp on the best course to adopt. 
 
XU TABLE OF CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 Lafayette at Barren Dill— The Oath of Alligiancc taken by the OflBcers — 
 Strange tonduct of Lee — Kvacuation of Philaddphia — Detennination of 
 Washington— Baltic of Monmouth and conduct of Lee — Arrival of the 
 Frencli Fk-tt— Attack on New York planned— Failure of the Attempt against 
 Newport, and Di.si)k'asure of the French Commander — Massacre of Baylor's 
 Dragoons and American Troops at E;.'g Harbor — Destitute condition of the 
 Anny, and Opinions of Washington as to the result of it— The Army in 
 Winter Quarters— Miserable condition of Congress— Sickness of Lafayette — 
 Washington consults with Congress on the Plan of the Summer Cami)aign — 
 Resolves to act solely against the Indians— Sullivan's Exi>edition — Taking 
 of Stony and Verplanck's Points— Governor Tryon's Foray— Successful At- 
 tack of Wayne on Stony Point— Lossing's Accusations refuted — Wretched 
 state of the Currency— Washington's Indignation against Speculators — 
 Count Vergennes' views of Washington— Suffering of the Troops in Winter 
 Quarters at Morristown— The Life Guard— Death of the Spanish Agent — 
 Washington partakes of the Communion in a Presbyterian Church— National 
 Bankruptcy threatened — Arrival of Lafayette with the news of a large 
 French Force having sailed- Noble Conduct of the Ladies of Philadelphia, 
 and of Robert Morris, in Supplying the Soldiers with Clothing. 
 
 CHAPTER Xn. 
 
 Fall of Charleston— Arrival of the French Fleet— Defeat of Gates— Washington 
 visiLs Rochambeau— Treason of Arnold— Arrest of Andre— His Execution — 
 Cornwallis in the South— Project of an Attack on New York— Suffering of 
 the Troops— Mutiny in Wayne's command— Mutiny of the New Jersey 
 Troops, and prompt action of Washington — Inefficiency of Congress, and 
 jealousies of the States— Arnold's Expedition into Virginia— Action between 
 the English and French Fleet— Lafayette sent South to cooperate with Steu- 
 ben — Operations in Virginia — Washington's Letter to the Manager of his 
 Estate— State of the Army— Letter to Paul Jones— Patriotism of Robert 
 Morris— Washington prepares to attack New Y'ork— Cornwallis retreats 
 before Lafayette to Y'orktown— The allied Army marches rapidly South — 
 Washington visits Mount Vernon — Arrival of the French Fleet in the Chesa- 
 peake—Anxiety of Washington— York town invested— Progress and Inci- 
 dents of the Siege— Capitulation of the Army— Excitement and joy of the 
 American People— Effect of the News on the British Ministry. 
 
 CHAPTER Xm. 
 
 Sickness and Death of young Custis— Departure of the French Fleet — Desti- 
 nation of the Treiops — Circular Letter to the States — Lincoln Secretary of 
 War— Green around Charleston— Hcad-qunrtcrs at Newbnrgh — The Tem- 
 ple — Case of Captain Iluddy and Captain Asgill — Defeat of the English 
 Ministry— Proposal to make Washington king — Settlement of the case of 
 young Asgill — Meeting of French and American Troops at King's Ferr}'— 
 Destitution of the Officers — Washington's views on the subject — " New burgh 
 
TABLE OF CONTENTS. Xlii 
 
 Addresses"— Proclamation of Peace— Washiugton addresses a Circular 
 Letter to the States— Visits Northern Battle Fields— Disbanding of the 
 Army— Evacuation of New York— Farewell to the Officers— Washington 
 surrenders his Commission to Congress — His feelings on laying down power — 
 Visits his Land "West— Improves his Farm— Interview with Lafayette, and 
 Letter to him after his departure — His habits of life— Inefficiency of Con- 
 gress — Washington's views and feelings on it— Society of the Cincinnati — 
 Convention called to form a Constitution — Washington chosen President — 
 The Constitution— Washington elected First President of the United States. 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 Washington prepares to leave Mount Vernon — He visits Fredericksburg, to 
 take leave of his jMother — He departs for New York — The Journey — Tri- 
 umphal Arch at Trenton — Reception at Elizabethtown — Arrival and wel- 
 come at New York — Installation of Washiugton as First President of the 
 United States — He declines Compensation for his Services — Illness and 
 Recovery — Debate on Titles — Death of the Mother of Washington — Organi- 
 zation of the Departments — Washington makes a Tour through the Eastern 
 States — The Seat of Government is removed from New York to Philadel- 
 phia — Establishment of a National Bank — Washington Visits the Southern 
 States — Development of Factions — He desires to retire at the close of his 
 term of Administration — Is induced to serve a second time — Re-inaugurated 
 President of the United States — The French Revolution — England declares 
 War against France — Washington issues a Proclamation of strict neutrality — 
 Opposition and Enmity — M. Genet's Arrival and Assumption — Washington 
 requests his Recall — Relations with England — Jay's Mission — Opposition to 
 the Tax on Distilled Spirits — Proclamation to the Insurgents — Calling out 
 of the Militia — Restoration of Peace — Jay's Treaty — Its Ratification — Resig- 
 nation of Randolph, Secretary of State — Washington's Private Life — De- 
 scription of his Appearance on State Occasions — Imprisonment of Lafayette — 
 Washington's Successful Intercession in his behalf— Washington's Farewell 
 Address — Election of John Adams — Washington returns to Mount Vernon — 
 His Life in Retirement — Difficulties with France — Washington appointed 
 Commander-in-Chief— He returns to Philadelphia to organize the Army — 
 Interview with Dr. Logan — Napoleon — Terms of Accommodation at Paris — 
 Washington at Jlount Vernon— His Last Illness— His Death — Dis Character. 
 
LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 Birth and Death of Great Men — Ancestry of George — Loss of his Father — Sent 
 to District School — Early History — Appointed Surveyor — Forest Life — Goes to 
 Barbadoes with a Sick Brother— Appointed Major over the Militia— Sent a Com- 
 missioner to the French — Account of his Perilous Journey. 
 
 Nature is not lavish of prodigies, and when she gives us 
 one in the human species, men are always expecting she 
 will indicate it by some outward sign. A lioness must cast 
 her whelps in the streets when a monster is born — some 
 convulsion of the earth, or strange appearance in the hea- 
 vens, give token when a great soul has arrived on the 
 earth, whose life is to change the current of history. We 
 love to associate mysterious phenomena with strange and 
 mysterious men. When Cromwell's stormy spirit was 
 passing from this troubled sphere, the enraged winds and 
 waves strewed the English coast with stranded vessels. As 
 Napoleon lay struggling in the last throes of mortal life, 
 the sea rose with a thundering sound over its barriers, as 
 if striving to reach the spot where the great sufferer lay. 
 
 But no such violent changes of nature heralded the birth 
 or accompanied the death of Washington. 
 
 Serenely like the sun, as if in harmony with the universe, 
 he arose on the world — so bright and undimmed he moved 
 over the firmament, and without a cloud to dim his splendor 
 sunk gloriously to rest. 
 
 We take a deep interest in the childhood of great men, 
 for we wish to detect, if possible, indications of their future 
 
 15 
 
lo LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 
 
 greatness, and trace the mental processes by which they 
 reached their elevation. Our curiosity in this respect is 
 rather excited than gratified by the meagre accounts that 
 have come down to us of Washington's early days. There 
 are many traditions, all in harmony with his general charac- 
 ter, but not substantiated as matters of history. His manly 
 refusal to tell a lie to escape punishment, his generosity in 
 winning a prize, by his superior strength, for another, and 
 his love of the right exhibited in more instances than one, 
 are so many floating traditions, which may or may not be 
 true. The retired place of his birth, and the stem character 
 of the times and men that surrounded his earlier years, 
 would naturally cause his boyish conduct to pass unnoticed, 
 leaving to the mother alone the pleasing task of hoarding 
 up all his noble traits and generous deeds. 
 
 The ancestor of George held the manor of Sulgrave, in 
 Northamptonshire, England, which was granted to him in 
 1538. His grandson Lawrence had several cliildren, two 
 of whom* (the second and fourth) emigrated to Virginia in 
 1657. They bought plantations in Westmoreland, on the 
 Potomac, and became successful farmers. John Washing- 
 ton entered into active service against the Indians, and rose 
 to the rank of colonel. He had two sons and a daughter. 
 The elder son, Lawrence, married Mildred Warner, by whom 
 he had three cliildren, John, Augustine, and Mildred. 
 Auf:riistine, the second son, married Jane Butler, by whom 
 he had four children, two of whom dying in infiincy, left 
 only Lawrence and Augustine. His wife also dying, he 
 married in 1730 Mary Ball, by whom he had sLx children ; 
 Georpe, who was bom in Westmoreland county, February 
 22d, 1732, and Betty, Samuel, John, Augustine, Charles, 
 and Mildred. The latter, however, died in infancy. While 
 George was yet very young, his father removed to an estate 
 
 » John nn<l Lawrence— the eldest, William, married a half-sister of George VH- 
 licrs, Duke of Buckingham. 
 
LIFE OF WASHINaTON. 17 
 
 wliich lie owned in Stafford county, where he died in 1743. 
 To each of his sons he left a plantation of several hundred 
 acres. To George, at this time eleven years old, was 
 reserved the estate on which he then lived. Four chil- 
 dren younger than he constituted a large family of almost 
 infants, to be brought up by the widowed mother. But 
 she was a woman of uncommon character, combining in 
 harmonious proportions all those qualities necessary to 
 make the best and noblest of our species — a good and true 
 mother. George was her eldest born, on whom she was to 
 rely in her old age, and she watched his early development 
 with that solicitude a pious mother only knows. She saw 
 in him those generous and noble traits which afterward 
 distinguished him — marked with pride his manly scorn of a 
 lie, his hatred of wrong and oppression, whatever the forms 
 they took, and his enthusiastic love of the great and tlie 
 good. But she saw also a bold and impetuous nature, which, 
 when thoroughly roused, was not easily laid — a fearlessness 
 and recklessness of danger, that made her heart tremble, and 
 it was with prayers and earnest teachings, that she sought 
 to place that nature under the control of reason and the law 
 of right. Around that bold and passionate heart she cast 
 ligature after ligature, woven from truth and duty and 
 conscience, and bound them with maternal fondness there, 
 till even its wildest throbbings could not rend them 
 asunder. Right well and faithfully was her work done. 
 It stood the fiery trials of youth, the storms of battle and 
 the temptations of ambition, and when at last, conqueror 
 and hero, he leaned his head, covered with honors, on her 
 aged shoulder, and wept as he bade her farewell to take his 
 place at the head of the republic which he had saved, she 
 reaped the fruit of her labors. How little she knew what 
 destinies hung on her instructions, as that boy stood by her 
 knee and listened to her counsel. With his passions 
 cultivated instead of restrained, and his reflective faculties 
 
18 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 
 
 and conscience kept in abeyance by his strong impulses, he 
 would have made a great and brilliant man, but never have 
 become the founder of more than an em2Dire and the beacon 
 light of the world. 
 
 At this time only thinly populated and widely separated 
 settlements were scattered through Virginia, so that no 
 colleges or high schools had been founded. Parents, 
 therefore, who wished to give their sons a classical 
 education, were compelled to send them to England. If 
 they could not afford to do this, they had to fall back on a 
 private tutor, or a district school in which only the common 
 rudiments of education were taught. To the latter George 
 was sent, and it was well that it happened so. However 
 valuable a thorough education is, the mission George 
 Washington Avas to fulfdl required that he should be wholly 
 one of the people. He could not have been educated in 
 the universities of Europe, without at the same time 
 coming under influences, the whole tendency of which 
 would be to unfit him for the place assigned him by 
 Heaven. Here, amid our jDrimeval forests, in constant 
 intercourse with the hardy settlers, trained in the rough 
 life of the pioneer, and representing in himself the love of 
 the soil, the fearless independence and self-reliance of the 
 people, he became their true representative and leader. 
 
 At thirteen years of age we find him sitting in one of 
 those humble school-houses in a Virginia clearing, which 
 still form one of the most distinctive characteristics of 
 our country. Full of lusty life, his shout rings over the 
 fields as- he bounds away from his pursuers, or his laugh 
 mingles with the rollicking group, as they wrestle and leap 
 and toss the l)ar in boyish rivalry. One of his graver 
 sports was to arrange his playmates in companies, and, 
 placing himself at their head, march and countermarch 
 them or lead them to the charge in mimic battle, l^old 
 and athletic, he soon acquired influence over his companions 
 
niifl 
 
 '«Wflilf»lif3ffw^^Tn, 
 
 ASHINGTON RKCEIVINU INSTKUCTIOM b'HOM HIS MOTHER. 
 
LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 21 
 
 by his jDliysical strength, while, by his j^robity and love 
 of justice, he caused himself to be referred to as arl)iter in 
 all their quarrels. His hand dealt swift j)unishment on acts 
 of meanness and oppression, for he would no more suffer 
 wrong than do it. In school he was as much marked by 
 his application and acquirements, as he was out of doors by 
 his strength and agility. His taste in books was uncom- 
 monly grave, and he reveals at this early age the systematic 
 subjection to wholesome rules under which he ever after 
 placed all his conduct. He formed little manuscript books, 
 into which he copied the forms used by men in transacting 
 business, such as bonds, bills of exchange, notes of hand, 
 receipts, etc. Selections of poetry are scattered along, 
 evidently not such as a boy would naturally prefer. They 
 were simply religious maxims, and doubtless had been 
 hoarded from his mother's teachings. 
 
 He made also a large collection of rules of behavior, 
 which reveal a remarkably matured mind in one so young. 
 Many of them would not be comprehended by a boy of 
 thirteen, much less have arrested his attention and be set 
 aside as guides to himself: such as "Gaze not on the 
 marks and blemishes of others, and ask not how they 
 came." " What you may speak in secret to your friend, 
 deliver not before others." " Let your recreations be 
 manful, not sinful." "When you speak of God, or his 
 attributes, let it be seriously and in reverence." " Honoi? 
 and obey your natural parents, although they be poor."" 
 "Labor to keep alive in your heart that little spark of 
 celestial lire called conscience." 
 
 It is certainly extraordinary to see a mere child thus 
 reduce his life, as it were, to system, and shape all his 
 conduct to rules of morality. The foundation of a 
 well-balanced and virtuous character, thus early established, 
 could not but result in a noble and complete structure. In 
 his case the tree obeyed the inclination of the twig, ta 
 
 2 
 
22 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 
 
 perfection, and lie grew np a striking example of the 
 power and benefit of right early training. Virtues planted 
 so deep in the heart are proof against the fiercest storms 
 and severest temptations of life. 
 
 lie had a decided taste for mathematics, which soon led 
 him from the simple rules of arithmetic, into geometry, 
 trigonometry and surveying; and he spent much of his 
 time in surveying the lots around the school-house. 
 
 A fiery nature, that loves excitement and danger, joined 
 to a mathematical taste and science, always gives a strong 
 character, for it shows a union of the imaginative and 
 retlective fiiculties, of energy and discretion, impulse and 
 great accuracy — a union which in itself is power. Bona- 
 parte exhibited these traits of character in an extraordinary 
 degree, making him 1)oth rapid and exact — quick as the 
 liditninii's flash and as certain of its mark. 
 
 IJow different are the ways by which Heaven reaches 
 results from those pursued by man f The wisest states- 
 men of France and England were absorbed in the affairs 
 of this continent, and its fate depended, in their esti- 
 mation, wholly on the wisdom of their management and 
 the strength of their armies, while around the form of a 
 lad of thirteen, in a Virginia school-house, clustered its 
 entire destinies. 
 
 Young Washington was not quite sixteen, when, with 
 
 his education completed, he left school and launched 
 
 forth into active life. The treaty of Aix la Chapelle, to 
 
 f^c completion of which had been given the thought and 
 
 /efTvrt of the wisest diplomatists in the world, had just 
 
 .clo»«-d. Around it had gathered the attention of all 
 
 Eurojy?, but men were mistaken, the destinies did not 
 
 liover about that imposing convention, but attended the 
 
 footsteps of this unknown lad, as he 25assed through the 
 
 forests of his native land. 
 
 On apparently trivial matters often hinge the greatest 
 
LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 23 
 
 issues. Lawrence, the elder brother, having served as an 
 officer in the English navy under General Wentworth and 
 Admiral Vernon, in the expedition against the West Indies, 
 he through them obtained a midshipman's bertli for George. 
 The latter was delighted at the prospect thus opened to 
 him, and immediately began to make jDrcparations for join- 
 ing his vessel. His mother, however, wavered ; she could 
 not trust her first-born, her prop and stay, to the dangers 
 and temptations of a naval life, and took it to heart so 
 grievously that the project was finally abandoned. Once 
 locked up in the British navy, and he never could have 
 become the leader of the revolutionary army. 
 
 After George left school he went to his brother Law- 
 rence, living at Mount Vernon, and passed the winter in 
 studying mathematics and in practical surveying. He 
 here became acquainted with the family of Lord Fairfax, 
 whose daughter Lawrence had married, and through them 
 was introduced into the highest circles of societ}^ This 
 eccentric but highly-cultivated nobleman took a great fancy 
 to young George, and resolved to employ him in surveying 
 large tracts of wild land which he owned in the interior. 
 The young surveyor accepted his proposals, and, setting out 
 in March, before the snows had left the summits of the 
 Alleghany, entered the forest and jDassed an entire month 
 amid the mountains. The third day out, after working 
 hard till night, he sought shelter in a miserable hovel stand- 
 ing alone in the midst of a clearing. On retiring to bed, 
 he undressed himself as usual, and jumped in. To his 
 amazement, however, he discovered that his bed consisted 
 of nothing but straw matted together, without sheets, and 
 covered with a single dilapidated blanket, loaded down 
 " with double its weight of vermin." His escapade from the 
 straw was made with more alacrity than his entrance, and, 
 dressing himself, he laid down outside. This was his first 
 
24 
 
 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 
 
 A 
 
 BOOK o£ cS'llRVEYi 
 
 J. 
 
 TOLY 12- J749 
 
 lesson in frontier life, and he resolved after that to sleep 
 out under the clear heavens. 
 
 Pushing his difhcult way to the Potomac, he found the 
 I'iver swollen ])y the melted snows of the Alleghanies, and 
 rolling such a turhulent flood that it was impossible to cross 
 it. Waiting two days for the waters to subside, he then 
 Bwam his horses across and kept up the Maryland side, and 
 
LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 25 
 
 in a drenching rain-storm made forty miles, " over the 
 worst road ever trod by man or beast." Halting for a day 
 and a half, till the storm broke, he came upon a party of 
 thirty Indians, returning from a war expedition. Following 
 the custom of those days, he gave them some rum, which 
 so exhilarated them that they resolved to entertain him 
 with a war-dance. Building a huge fire, they gathered 
 around it, and, to the din of their wild music, treated the 
 young surveyor to a scene as novel as it was picturesque. 
 
 Thus day after day he kept on, and at length crossed the 
 first ridge of the Alleghanies and entered on an almost 
 untrodden wilderness, and commenced his surveys. Scat- 
 tered Dutch settlers, that could not speak a word of English, 
 collected as he passed, and the men, women and children, 
 with their uncouth language, streamed after him to watch 
 the mysterious process of surveying. They gathered 
 together round his camp-fire, and made the night hideous 
 with their grotesque ajDpearance and half savage behavior. 
 
 Young Washington, only sixteen years of age, sitting by 
 his camp-fire, its ruddy light flinging into bright relief the 
 encircling forest, whose trunks, like columns of some old 
 dimly-lighted cathedral, receded away in the gloom, sur- 
 rounded by these half-savage children of the wilderness, 
 would make a good subject for a painter. One night a 
 violent storm arose — the trees rocked and roared over head, 
 and the wind, dashing down amid the embers, whirled them 
 over the straw on which he lay, setting it on fire. In a 
 moment the camp was in a blaze, and, but for the sudden 
 waking of one of the men, Washington would have been 
 wrapped in the flames. Sometimes the wind would sud- 
 denly shift, blowing the smoke full on the sleepers, when 
 they would be compelled to bivouac out amid the trees. 
 
 Having accomplished the task assigned him ably, he 
 obtained the appointment of public surveyor, and for three 
 years, excepting the winter months, passed most of his time 
 
26 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 
 
 ill the wilderness. It was the same succession of hardsliips 
 and exposures. To-thiy swimming rapid streams, to-morrow 
 drenched and chilled, j)ickiiig his way through the dripping 
 forest — now reclining at the close of the day on some slope 
 of the AUeghanies, and gazing off on the autumnal glories 
 of the boundless solitude, as it la}^ bathed in the rich hues 
 of the setting sun ; and again, pitching his tent, beside his 
 lonely camp-fire, whose light paled before the flashes that 
 rent the gloom, while the peals of thunder that reverbe- 
 rated along the cliffs seemed trebly fearful in that far-ofl' 
 wilderness, he passed through scenes calculated to make a 
 heart naturally bold impervious to fear, and an iron consti- 
 tution doubly insensible to fatigue. A better training to 
 impart self-reliance and coolness in the hour of peril, and 
 indomitable energy, could not have been furnished, while 
 those moral qualities which, amid the false tastes of more 
 cultivated life, might have sickened, could not but be 
 strengthened by these long and glorious communions with 
 nature. God sent Moses forty years in the wilderness 
 before he would allow him to lead his chosen people to 
 the land of Canaan. So did Washington pass a long novi- 
 tiate amid the solitudes of his native country, the better to 
 prepare him to lead the children of freedom to peace and 
 security. 
 
 IIow little he imagined, as he stood on some ridge of the 
 AUeghanies, and looked off on the sinking and swelling 
 forests beyond, that in a short time those solitudes would 
 be filled with the hum of cities, and that on those very 
 summits would meet from either side the shout of millions 
 on millions of free people, sending still higher, in reverence 
 and transport, liis own great name to the skies. Of all the 
 gorgeous visions that flitted before his youthful imagina- 
 tion — of all the strange and marvelous destinies that the 
 young heart will dream of, none were so strange and mar- 
 velous as that which actually befell him. 
 
LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 27 
 
 During all this time lie was a slave to that tender passion. 
 to which the strongest of our race, in the midst of their 
 power, have fallen helpless victims. Its object, history and 
 issue, remain in obscurity. He has left only here and there 
 a memento of the inward struggle. An occasional sonnet 
 to his lowland beauty, a melancholy tone j)ervading his let- 
 ters at this time, shows that he suffered deeply, but whether 
 from rejected love, or from the effort to subdue an affection 
 which circumstances forbade him to cherish, is not known. 
 
 In a letter to a friend, after sjoeaking of the 25leasures he 
 derived from correspondence with those he loved, he says, 
 " My place of residence, at present, is at his lordship's 
 (Lord Fairfax,) where I might, were my heart disengaged, 
 pass my time very pleasantly, as there is a very agreeable 
 young lady in the same house, Colonel George Fairfax's 
 wife's sister. But that only adds fuel to the fire, as being 
 often and unavoidably in company with her, revives my 
 former passion for your lowland beauty ; whereas, were I 
 to live more retired from young women, I might, in some 
 measure, alleviate my sorrow by burying that chaste and 
 troublesome jDassion in oblivion, and I am very well assured 
 that this will be the only antidote or remedy," 
 
 This lowland beauty was all the world to the 3^oung sur- 
 veyor for awhile, and how he . succeeded in driving her at 
 last from his heart, does not appear, but probably more 
 exciting scenes ef!lxced the impression which he would not 
 allow to be kept fresh by personal intercourse. 
 
 That Washington was something more than an able 
 and faithful surveyor, is evident from the great confi- 
 dence reposed in him by the government. We have 
 not the comiDlete history of the boy-man. He must 
 have exhibited more extraordinary qualities than appear 
 on the surflice, to have been chosen, as he was at 
 this time, though but nineteen years of age, commander of 
 one of the districts of the province which had been set off 
 
28 LIFE OF WASIIIXr. TON. 
 
 in onler to organize more eflectually the militia, to resist 
 the depredations of the Indians, His title was that of adju- 
 tant-general, with the rank of major. 
 
 Younu; "Washington had now got into the profession best 
 suited t(» liis tastes, and he immediately commenced studying 
 military tactics, and practicing the sword exercise, until he 
 hecnnie familiar with the one, and very skillful in the use 
 of the other. He had, however, hardly begun his military 
 service, into which he entered with all his heart, when he 
 was compelled for a time to abandon it. Tlis brother Law- 
 rence, who had l)een for some time slowlj^ sinking under a 
 pulmonary disease, was advised by his physician to seek 
 a warmer climate. Not wishing in his delicate state of 
 health to go alone, he took his favorite brother, George, 
 with him, and sailed for Barbadoes in September, 1751. 
 
 They were five weeks in making the voyage. Change 
 of climate, however, wrought no permanent change for the 
 better in the invalid, and after staying a few weeks on the 
 island, he resolved to return to Bermuda. In the mean 
 time, George was seized with the small-pox, and lay con- 
 fined for three weeks. Immediately on his recovery, he 
 was dispatched by his brother to Virginia, to bring his wife 
 to Bermuda, to join liim there. His passage home was a 
 long- and stormy one. He was absent in all four months. 
 His brother, finding that he continued to grow worse, wrote 
 home, requesting his wife not to join him. He lingered on 
 till summer, when he came home, and rapidly sank into the 
 grave. 
 
 George being left one of the executors of his ])rothcr's 
 property, which was very large, his time for awhile became 
 almost exclusively occupied in taking care of it. Mount 
 Vernon, with other estates, had "l)een left to the only sur- 
 viving daughter, but in case she died without children, they 
 >^-erc to go to George. 
 
 In the mean time Governor Dimviddie had divided \'ir- 
 
LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 29 
 
 ginia into four military divisions, and appointed Washing- 
 ton, whose commission had been renewed, over the northern. 
 This division covered a large territory, which he was 
 required to visit at stated intervals. The militia in the 
 various sections were mustered to receive him when he 
 came, and he reviewed and instructed them, as well as the 
 othcers, in the duties of their calling. Very tall and finely 
 formed, he was at this time the impersonation of a fine 
 military character, and carried all the enthusiasm of his 
 ardent nature into the profession so congenial to his tastes, 
 and so in accordance with his love of excitement and 
 adventure. 
 
 The French and English were at this time contending for 
 the mastery of the continent. The latter occupied the 
 Atlantic slope, while Canada was in possession of the 
 former, who were making vigorous efforts to control the 
 western lakes and rivers south to the mouth of the Missis- 
 sippi, and thus shut up the English east of the Alleghany 
 Mountains. Intelligence was soon received that they had 
 already crossed over from Canada, and were erecting fortifi- 
 cations and establishing posts along the Ohio. This was 
 crowding close upon the Virginia province, while, at the 
 same time, it unsettled the Indians, hitherto at peace, so 
 that an ominous cloud was gathering on the frontier. Eng- 
 land had anticipated this state of things, and sent over 
 orders to have two forts built on the Ohio, and dispatched 
 thirty cannon, with ammunition, to defend them. The 
 French, however, had outstrijDped the slow movements of 
 their rival, for they had already commenced a line of mih- 
 tary posts, to extend from New Orleans to Canada. Their 
 claims to this vast territory were based on the right of 
 discovery and the stipulations of European treaties to which 
 England acceded, viz., that France should retain all her 
 actual possessions in America. By an extraordinary con- 
 struction the latter insisted that having discovered the 
 
^0 LIFE OF WASIIIXGTOX. 
 
 Mississippi river, she Lad a right to all the territories 
 through which its waters flowed. Equally ahsurd with this 
 claim was that of England, who based her right on Indian 
 treaties, although the tribes with which she made them had 
 no more power to cede away the land west of the Ohio, 
 than they had that west of the Mississippi. On their vague 
 assertion that they had at some former time conquered it, 
 although the present savage occupants yielded them no 
 allegiance, and denied their pretensions, the English made 
 a treaty with them including vast territories occupied by 
 other inde})endent tribes. The Indians might Avell be 
 astonished at the turn things had taken, and be puzzled to 
 know what course to pursue. The}^ asked Mr. Gist, who 
 had been sent by Governor Dinwiddle to trade with them, 
 ^'whereabout the Indian lands lay, as the French cluimed all on 
 one side of the Ohio, and the English all on the other.'^ The 
 claims of both England and France rested on a miserable 
 foundation enough ; but, so far as the two nations were 
 concerned, the latter had clearly the advantage. It was 
 evident, however, that ?night was to settle tlie question. 
 
 As a flrst step. Governor Dinwiddie resolved to send a 
 commissioner to the French commamler on the Ohio, and 
 demand why he invaded his British majesty's dominions, 
 and what he proposed to do. To undertake this, through 
 nearly six hundred miles of forest fdled with Indians and 
 crossed only by trails, required a man of no common intrepi- 
 dity, fortitude, energy, skill and daring. 
 
 There needs no stronger proof of the high estimation in 
 which young "Washington, then only twent^'-one years old, 
 •was held, than the selection of him to perform this hazard- 
 ous mission. The oldest frontiersman might well have 
 shrunk fioiu it, for it would task the hardihood and endu- 
 rance of a man trained a life-long in the woods. 
 
 His instructions were, to proceed at once to the Ohio, 
 and, assendjling the neighboring Lidian chiefs at a place 
 
LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 31 
 
 called Logstown, explain his visit, and request an escort of 
 warriors to the French post. After delivering his message 
 and demanding an answer, he was to ascertain, as far as 
 possible, the number, position and designs of the French. 
 
 Thus fortified with instructions, he set out on the last day 
 of October, and, after a journey of fourteen days, reached 
 Will's Creek, the utmost verge of civilization. Here he 
 found Mr. Gist, an old and experienced backwoodsman, and 
 engaged him as a guide. With a French and Indian inter- 
 preter, two Indian traders and two drivers, making in all 
 eight persons, he left the haunts of the white man, and, 
 striking an Indian trail, stretched through the wilderness. 
 Floundering through swamps, swimming deep rivers, and 
 straining up the steep mountains, the little company kejDt 
 on its difficult way, and at length reached the junction of 
 the Alleghany and Monongahela. Washington's quick eye 
 saw at once the advantages of the jDlace, both for a fortifi- 
 cation and a depot for provisions, and by his advice a mili- 
 tary post was afterward established there. Pushing on to 
 Logstown, he assembled a few Indian chiefs and made them 
 a speech. Among these, one called the Half-King was the 
 most distinguished. Persuading him, with three other 
 Indians, to accompany him as guides, the young major 
 started for the French fortification, a hundred and twenty 
 miles distant. St. Pierre, the commander of the post, an 
 old man and a knight, received him with marked urbanity 
 He promised to take Governor Dinwiddle's communication 
 into consideration, and after two days gave his reply, declar- 
 ing it was not for him to discuss treaties, but obey orders, 
 and he should not leave his post till commanded to do so. 
 
 During this time Washington was examining the fort, 
 making drawings of the works, and noting down the num- 
 ber of cannon and men and strength of the post. 
 
 It was now the middle of December; the heavy and 
 incessant rain-storms had turned into snow, obliterating the 
 
32 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 
 
 paths and covering the forest with one vast winding-sheet. 
 Fearing that tlie snow wonld become so deep that the horsea 
 would break down in their long journey across the wilder- 
 ness, he sent them back to Venango, to wait there and 
 recruit, while he made t\re passage down the river in a 
 canoe. 
 
 The French commandant used every artifice to detach 
 the Half-King from Washington, and, not succeeding, deter- 
 mined to detain him till the latter was gone. But the 
 young major, feeling how important it was to keep as allies 
 the tribes over which this chief had influence, was resolved 
 not to leave without him. Winter was deepening, and he 
 was anxious to be oil", and he remonstrated with the French 
 commandant on the unfair course he was taking, l^ut 
 every appeal of the straight-forward Virginian was met 
 with the bland smile and courteous denial of a true Fiencli- 
 man. Being pushed, however, to give a reason for the 
 detention of the savage chief, the wary old knight replied 
 that the latter was waiting for the present of a gun pro- 
 mised him next morning. 
 
 The Half-King, having at length obtained his gun, pre- 
 pared to leave ; but the French commandant, still intent on 
 retaining him, endeavored to get him druidv. Washington, 
 however, never left the Indian's side, and by plying him 
 with appeals and remonstrances, and pressing on him the 
 necessity of keeping his sacred promise, at length had the 
 satisfaction of seeing him depart. 
 
 Embarking in a single ca oe, they pushed out into the 
 turl)ulent river, and started for Venango, one hundred and 
 thirty miles distant. It was a perilous voyage, for the 
 stream was swollen and fdled with uprooted trees and drift- 
 wood, that were hurled along the rajiid current on which 
 their fiail vessel danced like a feather. As night closed 
 over the forest the canoe was hauled on shore, a fire built, 
 aaid the party bivouacked on the icy bank till morning. 
 
LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 35 
 
 With the dawn the boat was again launchecl, and went 
 flying down the stream, requiring all the vigilance of eye 
 and hand to keep it from being wrecked. Now they would 
 shoot straight toward a rock, around which the water 
 foamed and boiled in fierce eddies — again glance away from 
 a cliff, against which they threatened to dash, und at last 
 grounded on a deceitful shoal, compelling the whole -party 
 to disembark in the icy water. The savage king and the 
 tall young envoy had to wade along, side by side, dragging 
 the boat for half an hour over the pebbles before they could 
 get into deep water again, and then, chilled and dripping, 
 continue their voyage. At length they came upon a barri- 
 cade of ice, stretching completely across the channel. 
 Around this the canoe had to be carried for a quarter of a 
 mile. They were a whole week making this hundred and 
 thirty miles. 
 
 Having at last reached Venango, Washington bade the 
 Half-King good-by, with much good advice not to let the 
 fine speeches of the French detach him from his friendshijj 
 to the English, and next day struck into the wilderness. 
 The horses, however, were feeble and emaciated, and being 
 overloaded with provisions which the party were obliged to 
 carry with them, soon began to show symptoms of giving 
 out. In oixler to relieve them as much as possible, Wash- 
 ington gave up his own animal for a pack-horse, and, 
 dressed in an Indian hunting-shirt, waded on foot through 
 the forest. But the cold becoming intense, and the soft 
 snow freezing hard, through which the horses floundered 
 with difficult}^ it was evident they could not proceed ; so 
 after the third day, he left them and the party in charge of 
 Mr. Vanbraam, and with Mr. Gist alone set out for the dis- 
 tant colonies. The tall, handsome, and athletic young 
 Virginian, in his closely fitting Indian costume, his pack on 
 his back, his knife in his belt, and his trusty rifle in his 
 hand, presented a fine contrast to the brawny backwoods- 
 
3G LIFE OF WASHING TON. 
 
 man by his side, as they passed through the primeval forest 
 together. At the approach of night they kindled a fire, 
 and scraping the snow from a fallen tree for their table, and 
 cutting pieces of bark for plates, ate with a keen appetite 
 their coarse supper. Then wrapping themselves in their 
 blankets, with the snow for their couch, and the sparkling 
 wintry heavens for their canopy, they lay down to sleep. 
 With the first streak in gs of dawn they were again afoot, 
 and through the blinding storm and under the trees that 
 swayed and groaned in the fierce December blast, strained 
 up the steep mountain sides, or threaded the dark gorges 
 Avith unflagging spirits and undaunted hearts. On approach- 
 ing a spot called Murdering Town, upon a fork of Beaver 
 creek, they met an Indian, whom Gist was sure he had seen 
 at Venango, and whose appearance was suspicious. He, 
 however, seemed very friendly, was loquacious, asking many 
 questions about the party behind, their horses, etc., and 
 when they Avould be along. Major "Washington wished to 
 go the shortest route to the forks of the Alleghanj-, and 
 asked the Indian if he would be their guide. He readily 
 consented, and taking the major's pack started off. But 
 after travelinic eicrht or ten miles, Washins-ton declared that 
 his feet was sore, his limbs weary, and he must halt. To 
 this the Indian objected, grew churlish, and offered to carry 
 WiLshington's gun, if he would go on. He said the Ottaway 
 Indians occupied the woods, and if they laid out they would 
 be scalped, and urged them to go to his cabin, from which 
 he declared he just then heard a signal gun, where they 
 would be safe. They kept on for awhile, but Washing- 
 ton's experienced eye soon discovering that they were going 
 the wrong couree, he became uneas}'- and remonstrated with 
 him. The latter, to pacify him, barkened a moment, and 
 then declared he heard two whoops from his cal)in. Wash- 
 ington then went two miles farther on, when he declared 
 that at the next water he came to he would halt. Before 
 
LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 37 
 
 they reached it, however, they emerged into an open space^ 
 on the even snow surface of which the bright moonlight lay. 
 The Indian was some distance ahead, but kept his wary eye 
 on his victims, and, as they stepped from the deep shadow 
 of the forest into the clear light, suddenly turned and 
 leveled his rifle. The next instant a quick, sharp report 
 rang through the woods. Washington immediately cried 
 out to Gist, " Are you shot ?" " No," replied the latter, 
 and sprang towards the savage, who had leaped behind a 
 big oak, and begun rapidly to reload his piece. Washing- 
 ton reached the treacherous guide at the same time with 
 Gist, but, instead of seizing him, stood by and saw him ram 
 home a ball without manifesting any suspicion, pretending, 
 •on the contrary, to believe that he considered the shot as a 
 signal to those in his cabin. Gist then told Washington he 
 must kill the traitor on the spot. The latter objected — ^he 
 could not consent to murder the poor wretch there in cold 
 blood, richly as he deserved such a fate. Gist replied that 
 he must then be got away, and they travel all night. 
 
 Their position had now become critical ; that rifle shot 
 might have had a double purpose — to send one of them to 
 his long account, and at the same time be a signal to com- 
 panions near by, whose wild hoop might at any moment 
 break on their startled ears. 
 
 They, however, took the Indian with them, till they came 
 to a little run of water, where they compelled him to make 
 a fire. The guns were stacked against a tree, but eithei 
 Gist or Washington always stood by them. The keen sav- 
 age saw he was suspected, and grew uneasy. He still de- 
 clared, however, that his cabin was but a little way off, and 
 he could soon reach it. Gist then gave him bread, and told 
 him to go home and fetch them some meat in the morning, 
 while they, as they were tired, would encamp where they 
 were. The fellow was glad to get off, and, shouldering his 
 rifle, disappeared in the forest. Gist followed him stealthily 
 
38 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 
 
 some distance and then returned. The two adventurers then 
 went on about half a mile and built a fire. By its light they 
 set their compass, took their course, and started forward. 
 Knowing that the Indians, if really in pursuit, would take 
 their trail as soon as it was morning, they kept up a tre- 
 mendous pace all night. Nor did they slacken it at day- 
 light, except to snatch a mouthful of food, but, Aveary and 
 sore as they were, traveled all day. Two days and a night 
 on the stretch, without a path to guide them, was terrific 
 ■work ; but it was a matter of life and death, and they 
 never halted till dark, when they struck the Alleghany river. 
 They had expected to find this frozen over, and put it be- 
 tween them and their pursuers before stopping ; but the ice 
 extended only about one hundred and fifty feet from either 
 shore, while the channel between was swollen and angry, 
 and loaded with huge fragments of ice Avhich had broken 
 loose from above. This abrupt termination of their jour- 
 ney was heart-sickening enough ; and as the two weary 
 travelers stood on the ice-bound shore and gazed on the ap- 
 palling spectacle, they felt that the crisis of their fate had 
 come. There was no escape, and if the savages continued 
 their pursuit, they must fight them there, whatever their 
 numbers might be. Nothing, however, was to be done, and 
 wrapping themselves in their blankets, they lay down upon 
 the snow and listened to the grinding, crushing sound of the 
 ice as it drifted down in the gloom. The ear was constantly 
 turned to catch the sound of approaching footsteps, while 
 the lonely cries that rose from the forest combined to render 
 the night long and dreary. At daylight they rose from 
 their unriuiet, fitful slumbers and began to prepare a raft, 
 on which they could fioat across. With but " one jDOor 
 hatchet," to hew down the trees, they commenced their ar- 
 duous task. Its tiny strokes made feeble echoes along that 
 wintry stream, and it was night-fall before the raft was com- 
 pleted. They then slid it on the ice to the edge, and, as it 
 
LIFE OP WASHINGTON. 30 
 
 fell heavily in the water, jumpecl upon it. Caught by the 
 current, it was whirled rapidly down. They had not 
 proceeded far, however, before the descending fragments of 
 ice so 'pressed upon and jammed it against other pieces, 
 that it began to sink. Washington immediately struck his 
 setting-pole heavily into the mud at the bottom, to arrest 
 the raft till the ice crowded by. But the weight of the ice 
 and raft together was so great, that, when the latter came 
 in contact with the pole, Washington, who had grasped it 
 firmly, was jerked over, and fell in ten feet water. He, 
 however, succeeded in getting hold of one of the logs, and 
 held on while the whole mass swept together down the 
 stream. Their position now was perilous in the extreme — 
 in the middle of the channel, carried resistlessly forward by 
 the current and the ice, they could reach neither shore. 
 Fortunately they drifted near a small island, when, as a 
 last resort, they both abandoned the raft and made for it. 
 Here on this mere rock, with an angry and turbulent river 
 on either side, with no materials to construct a new raft, 
 with no fire, wet to the skin, they were compelled to pass 
 the long winter's night. To add to their discomfort, the 
 night set in intensely cold, and it required the most un- 
 wearied efforts and constant exercise to keep from freezing. 
 As it was, Mr. Gist's hands and feet were both frozen, and 
 Washington escaped only by his great powers of endur- 
 ance, inherent in his constitution^ and strengthened by his 
 long exposure in the woods and mountains. The frost, 
 however, which well-nigh deprived them of life, proved 
 their salvation, for it formed a bridge of ice between the 
 island and eastern shore sufficiently strong to bear them.. 
 Crossing cautiously on this, they the same day reached a 
 trading post of Mr. Frazier, near the spot where afterward 
 the battle of Monongahela was fought. Here they 
 remained several days, to procure horses with which to 
 
 continue their journey. In the mean time Washington 
 
 3 
 
40 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 
 
 paid a visit to queen Aliquippa, residing near, avIio liad 
 been very much offended that he did n(jt stop to see her 
 on his outward journey. An ample apology, an overcoat, 
 and a bottle of rum, especially the latter, restored her good 
 humor. 
 
 Leaving this trading post the second of January, 
 Washington continued his journey on horseback. The 
 intense cold, followed l)y rain storms, melted snow and 
 swollen rivers, combined to render the termination of his 
 route almost as painful as the middle portion of it, but after 
 fifteen days of hard labor, he reached Williamsburg, having 
 been absent in all eleven weeks. He had accomplished 
 the task assigned him to the letter, and performed one of 
 the most extraordinary expeditions on record. It is 
 impossible, at this time, to conceive all the difficulties that 
 beset it. But whether we take into consideration the time 
 required to complete it, the country through which it led — 
 a vast, untrodden Avilderness, crossed by mountain ranges, 
 intersected by swollen rivers, and filled with lawless 
 savages — or the season of the year selected — mid-winter — 
 when the difficulties of the way were increased ten-fold by 
 the deep snows, frosts, and sudden thaws, and incessant 
 storms, or the long and dreadful exposures, borne without 
 flinching, it certainly stands without a parallel in the 
 history of our country. From first to last Washington had 
 shown himself a most extraordinary young man. A mere 
 stripling of twenty-one, he exhibited all the energy, self- 
 reliance, endurance, tact, and courage of the most 
 experienced man and veteran. As one in imagination 
 beholds him in his Indian dress, his pack on his back, his 
 •gun in his hand, stealing through the snow-covered forest 
 •at midnight, or plunging about in the wintry stream in the 
 ■struggle for life, or, wrapped in his blanket, sleeping beside 
 the ice-fdlcd river, lulled by its sullen roar, he cannot but 
 feel that he beholds a being whom angels guarded through 
 
LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 41 
 
 the terrible training which can alone fit him for the great 
 duties and trials that await him. 
 
 Washington was highly complimented for the manner in 
 which he had executed the commission that had been 
 entrusted to him. His journal was printed and copied in 
 the colonial newspapers. The English government at 
 home had it reprinted, for it possessed peculiar value, 
 inasmuch as it was the first clear exposition of the designs 
 of the French on this continent, and the first reliable 
 information respecting their past movements. Washington 
 had ascertained, not only how matters stood on the Ohio 
 and the lakes, but also obtained accurate information of the 
 number and strength of their posts and garrisons at the 
 mouth of the Mississippi. The extraordinary character of 
 their claims, demanding all the territory washed by the 
 Mississippi and its branches, aroused the English govern- 
 ment to the necessity of immediate action. 
 
42 LIFE OF WASIIIXGTON, 
 
 CHAPTER n. 
 
 Washington sent against the French — Ilostilities of the latter — Fort Duquesne — 
 Difflcultics of the March — Dangerous Explorations — Message from the Half- 
 King — Night March — Attack on Junionville — Feelings of Washington in his 
 First Battle — Final ResulUi of it— Fort Necessity — Battle of the Great Meadows — 
 Washington Capitulates — Resigns in disgust his Commission — Tart Refusal to 
 join the Army under Governor Sharpe — Accepts Braddock's Reqnest to act as 
 Volunteer Aid — Is taken Sick — Joins the Army— Battle of Monongahela — 
 Bravery of Washington — The Retreat — Death of Braddock — Washingtt)n reads 
 the Funeral Service — Burial by Torch-light — Scenes around Fort Duquesne — 
 Demoniacal Jubilee of the Indians — Washington at Mount Vernon — Disgust 
 with tiic GoTernment — Appointed Commander-in-Chief of the Virginia Forces — 
 Head-quarters at Winchester — Inroads of the Indians — Terror of the Settlers — 
 Sternness of Washington — False Rumors — DiflRculty with Captain Dagworthy — 
 Goes to Boston to refer it to Governor Shirley — Reception on the way — Falls in 
 lore with Miss Piiillips of New York — His Return. 
 
 Immediately on the return of Washington, Governor 
 Dmwiddie called his council together and laid before it the 
 letter of the French commander, and the report of his 
 commissioners. It was resolved at once to repel this 
 mvasion of the king's dominions by force of arms. To 
 effect this, an enlistment of two companies of one hundred 
 men each was advised, who should proceed without delay 
 to the Ohio, and erect a fort on its banks. If there were 
 not a sufficient number of volunteers to make up the 
 quota, drafts were ordered to be made on the militia. 
 Washington was appointed commander of this small force, 
 the chief object of which was to bisect the operations of the 
 French, and prevent them from completing their chain of 
 posts from Canada to New Orleans. ITc was stationed at 
 Alexandria to enlist recruits and dispatch forwan.1 the 
 cannon for the fort which the Ohio company had agreed te 
 build. 
 
 * The Legislature met in February, 1754, but the feelings 
 of the members were not at all in harmonv with ih* 
 
LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 43 
 
 warlike spirit of the governor — indeed some of tlieni de- 
 clared they could not see what right England had to those 
 lands. The loyal old governor " fired at this," to think 
 that " an English Legislature should presume to doubt the 
 right of his Majesty to tjie back of his dominions." Ten 
 thousand pounds, however, were voted for the defense of 
 the colony, which gave the governor great satisfaction, but 
 his ire was again aroused when commissioners were ap- 
 pointed to superintend the disbursement of this fund. He 
 nevertheless went diligently to work, and ordered four more 
 companies to be raised, making six in all. Colonel Joshua 
 Fry was appointed commander of these, with Washington 
 raised to the rank of lieutenant-colonel, his second in com- 
 mand. The governor was authorized to call for two inde- 
 pendent companies from New York, and one from South 
 Carolina. These were immediately sent for, and in the 
 meantime the cheering news came from North Carolina that 
 she would soon have a force in the field to help repel the 
 common invader. 
 
 Washington having completed two companies, in all one 
 hundred and fifty, self-willed, ungovernable men, left Alex- 
 andria in April, and marched for the Ohio, where he was 
 ordered to complete the fort there which a party of men, 
 under Captain Trent, were erecting, and to make prisoners, 
 kill and destroy all who interrupted the English settlements. 
 His march was slow and difficult, and before he reached 
 Will's Creek, the French had descended from Venango, and 
 summoned the force under Captain Trent to surrender. The 
 latter was absent, but Ensign Ward, then in command, 
 agreed to give up the fort if he was permitted to retire 
 with his troops. This was acceded to, and the French took 
 possession, and immediately set about strengthening the 
 works. The trees were felled around the fort, which they 
 named Du Quesne, barracks of bark were thrown up, and 
 before the smoke of the burning trees had scarcely cleared 
 
44 LIFE OF WASIIINGTOX. 
 
 away, corn and wheat were springing up, and the first 
 foundation of Pittsburgh w^as laid. 
 
 Immediately on the reception of this alarming news 
 Washington sent off expresses to the governors of Virginia, 
 Pennsylvania and Maryland for reinforcements, and then 
 called a council of war. Beset with difficulties, liable at any 
 moment to ])e surrounded and cut off, he nevertheless re- 
 solved to push boldly forward, and, if possible, reach the 
 Monon«T^ahela and erect a fortification. With his little force 
 swelled to three hundred men, he entered the forest and 
 began to cut his way through the wilderness. This was 
 slow and tedious, for all the deep streams had to be bridged, 
 the swamps filled up, dug- ways made along the sides of the 
 mountains, and a grade and smoothness obtained sufficient 
 to allow the passage of baggage-wagons. Reaching at 
 length the Youghogany, a halt was made, till a bridge could 
 Ije built across the stream. Being told here by some Indians 
 that the river was navigable to its junction with boats, 
 Washington took with him five men and proceeded down, 
 to ascertain if it were so. The navigation of the stream 
 proved extremely perilous, for he got entangled amid rocks 
 and shoals, and w^as borne through dangerous rapids. At 
 length, however, he entered a gorge made by two high pre- 
 cipitous mountains, where the stream, compressed between 
 the cliffs, became very deep, and, ceasing its tortuous course, 
 flowed in a straijrht, rapid current on. Borne swiftlj and 
 smoothly along, Washington proceeded for ten miles, when 
 he vdinc to a fall. This abruptly terminated his explora- 
 tions, and he returned to his army. He had scarcely reached 
 it, when a string of wampum was received from his old 
 friend, the Half-King, telling him tliat the French were ad- 
 vancing, and saying, " Come soon, or we are lost, and shall 
 never meet again. I speak it in the grief of my heart." 
 Washington immediately ordered the troops under arms, 
 and pushed forward. Without tents, scantily supplied with 
 
LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 45 
 
 clothes and provisions, encamping under the open sky, 
 pelted by the rains, fording the streams, and wearily drao-- 
 ging their cannon after them, they marched slowly on, 
 while insubordination and complaints swelled the evils that 
 encompassed the young commander. On the 25th another 
 message was received from the Half-King, saying, " Be on 
 your guard ; the French army intend to strike the first Eng- 
 lish whom they shall see." The same day a second mes- 
 senger entered the camp, reporting that the French were 
 but eighteen miles distant. Ignorant of their number, or 
 from what point they would attack, he hastened to the 
 Great Meadows, an open plain between two ridges, covered 
 with grass and low bushes. Near the centre, where it was 
 about three hundred yards wide, and beside a rivulet that 
 flowed through it, he hastily threw up an intrenchment, and 
 prepared to meet the enemy. As he looked around and 
 saw what a broad interval lay between his rude works and 
 the covering forest, he felt satisfied with the spot he had 
 selected, declaring it was a " charming field for an en- 
 counter." In the mean time he sent out some men on the 
 wagon-horses to reconnoitre, and all eyes were directed to- 
 ward the forest, in constant expectation of seeing them 
 burst into the opening, bringing the enemy with them. But 
 they returned without having seen any traces of the in- 
 vaders. In the night, however, the sentries became alarmed, 
 and fired their pieces. In a moment the little camp was in 
 commotion, and the troops stood to their arms till morning. 
 Soon after daylight a single man was seen moving across 
 the plain toward the fort. This was Gist, who reported 
 the French near by. The day wore on without further 
 cause of alarm; but at nine o'clock at night the camp was 
 again thrown into a state of excitement, by the arrival of a 
 messenger from the Half-King, who lay with his warriors 
 about six miles distant, reporting that the French detach- 
 ment was Ciose by him. It was pitch-dark, and the rain 
 
46 LIFE OF WASIIINGTOX. 
 
 fell in torrents, but young Washington, as he stood by the 
 fire listening to the statement of the swarthy messenger, 
 forgot both, and instantly selecting forty of his best men, 
 started for the camp of the Half-King. Utter blackness 
 filled the forest, and it was impossible to keep the right di- 
 rection. Stumbling over the rocks and fallen trees, the 
 little band staggered about in the darkness, the pattering of 
 the rain-drops above and their constant dripping on the 
 foliage Ijelow the only sounds that broke the surrounding 
 stillness, save when the musket-barrel of some poor fellow, 
 tripping in the gloom, rung against a tree or rock, or the 
 low words of command fell from their intrepid leader, 
 as he felt his way toward his first battle. They wandered 
 about in the woods all night, and did not reach the camp 
 of the Half-King till sunrise. A short council was then 
 held, in which it was resolved to send forward two Indian 
 scouts to ascertain the precise locality of the French. Fol- 
 lowing up the trail, these soon discovered the enemy con- 
 cealed among the rocks. Streaming along in Indian file, 
 Washington, with his savage allies, at length came in sight 
 of the i^arty. The latter, immediately on discovering the 
 hostile approach, seized their arms and prepared to resist. 
 " Fire !" cried Washington, and at the same moment dis- 
 charged his musket. A rapid volley followed, and for fif- 
 teen minutes it was sharp work. Jumonville, the French 
 commander, and ten of his men were killed, and twenty- 
 two taken prisoners. The remamder fled. Washington had 
 but one man killed and three wounded. It was his first 
 battle, and the excitement was naturally great. In speak- 
 ing of it afterward, he said, " I heard the bullets whistling, 
 and believe me, there is something charming in the sound." 
 In this first trial lie showed the metal he was made of, and 
 although the sj)cech smacks of bravado it reveals the ardor 
 and enthusiasm, without which the soldier never excels in 
 his profession. 
 
1>EATH OF Jl-JIONVILL 
 
LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 49 
 
 Probably there never before turned such vast conse- 
 quences on a single musket-shot as on that fired by Wash- 
 ington in the commencement of this skirmish. Its echo 
 went round the globe ; it was the signal-gun breaking up 
 the councils and diplomatic meetings of Europe, and sum- 
 moning the two greatest powers of the world to arms to 
 struggle for a continent. It began the long war which 
 drove France out of America, and made a warlike people 
 of the colonists, who were jealous of their rights. When 
 the revolutionary struggle afterward commenced France was 
 but too glad to help despoil England of the rich possessions 
 of which the latter had robbed her, and saw with undis- 
 guised pleasure an independent government rise on these 
 shores. But the French army, in helping republicanism, 
 became republican, and scattered the doctrine of human 
 rights throughout France. Her bloody revolution was the 
 result. Met by the feudalism of Europe, it went rolling 
 over the French borders, deluging the continent in its rash 
 flow. The shout of the oppressed masses was heard rising 
 amid the din of battle, and the low and threatening under- 
 tone of their mutterings makes monarchs at this day turn 
 pale on their thrones, while the end is not yet. 
 
 What a long and frightful train of events that single shot 
 set in motion. When the news reached France, it threw 
 both government and people into a state of high excitement. 
 War had begun, and the name of Washington was heard 
 for the first time in the saloons of Paris, and loaded with 
 opprobrium. His attack was declared base and wicked, and 
 Jumonville was regarded as the victim of assassination. A 
 poem was written to commemorate his sad fate, and Wash- 
 ington was looked upon as no better than a robber. It was 
 asserted that Jumonville was on a peaceful mission, and had 
 begun to read the summons he bore, when Washington fired 
 upon him. This was false, and expressly declared so by 
 the latter. The fact that Jumonville was intrusted with a 
 
50 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 
 
 summons commanding the English to evacuate the territory, 
 does not make his mission a peaceful one. Besides, he did 
 not advance like one on a friendly errand, but lay skulking 
 about with an armed force. Washington, when sent by 
 Dinwiddie to the French, took only necessary guides. If, 
 witli a bodv of troojis, he had lain for days about the fort, 
 and Mhen assailed had made no effort at explanation, but 
 continued to fight till overpowered, it would have been per- 
 fectly absurd to pretend that he was on a peaceful mission. 
 Still, French writers denounced Washington unsparingly, 
 and to this day pronounce his attack unlawful and wicked. 
 But the l)hime, whether nmch or little, rested on Governor 
 Dinwiddie, not on himself, for the former had directed him 
 to drive the French from the English territory, and he had 
 been sent out with an armed force for that express purpose. 
 lie could not have done otherwise than obey the orders of 
 the government. The fact that war had not been declared 
 could make no difference, for the French had already com- 
 menced hostilities, by investing an^English fort and forcing 
 the garrison to capitulate. To expect Washington to sit 
 still and see a second taken without striking a blow, would 
 be absurd. 
 
 The latter, knowing that as soon as the news of his attack 
 on Jumonville should reach Fort Du Quesne, a heavier force 
 would l)e sent against him, retired at once to his little fort, 
 which he named Fort Necessity. 
 
 But while compelled to prepare for the exigencies grow- 
 ing out of a superior force in his front, he had also to con- 
 tend witli the insubordination of his troops, especially tlie 
 oflicers, whose pay had been reduced so low, that it Avould 
 not meet their necessary expenses, and who, indignant at 
 the meanness of the government, declared they would iro 
 homo and leave the arm}^ to take care of itself Washing- 
 ton, in this dilemma, put on the " hypocrite as far as he 
 could," and endeavored to convince them it was better and 
 
LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 51 
 
 more honorable to remain where they were, while at the 
 same time he wrote to Governor Dinwiddie, stating the 
 feeUngs of the officers, and remonstrating boldly against the 
 insane policy which made them inferior to the king's 
 officers. He declared that, so far as he was concerned, it 
 was not the smallness of the pay that made him indignant, 
 but the injustice and dishonor of this invidious distinction, 
 while in fact the sei'vices he and his fellow officers were re- 
 quired to perform, were enormous and hazardous in the ex- 
 treme. " For my own part," said he, " it is a matter almost 
 indiffijrent whether I serve for full pay, or as a generous 
 volunteer. Indeed, did my circumstances correspond with 
 my inclinations, I should not hesitate a moment to prefer 
 the latter ; for the motives that have led me here are pure 
 and noble." Here, in the midst of the forest, liable at any 
 moment to be struck down, by an act of executive authority, 
 he nevertheless kindles into stern indignation against the 
 wrong committed by that authority, and demands a recog- 
 nition of those claims of his officers and men, which he 
 deems to be just and honorable. 
 
 While thus surrounded by a murmuring army — threat- 
 ened by a superior enemy, and destitute of the necessary 
 provisions for his detachment, he received word of the death 
 of his senior in rank, Colonel Fry, at Will's Creek. He was 
 now commander-in-chief. But soon after, an independent 
 company from South Carolina arrived, commanded by Cap- 
 tain Mackay, who, having a royal commission, ranked 
 Washington. Here a new difficulty arose, and had not 
 Mackay been a thorough gentleman, it would have been a 
 serious one. The latter, however, contented himself with 
 a mild refusal to obey the colonel's orders, and with his one 
 hundred men encamped by himself, Washington, foresee- 
 ing the embarrassment in which this divided command 
 would place the entire force, wrote to Governor Dinwiddie 
 to settle the difficulty by a direct explicit order. The latter 
 
62 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 
 
 refused to take the responsibility of deciding on so grave a 
 matter as avIio should command four hundred men ; and 
 "Washington, m order to avoid a quarrel, determined with 
 his troops to leave the fort and advance to the Mononga- 
 hela, Avhile Captain Mackay remained at Fort Necessity. 
 The nearest practicable route to Gist's settlement, thirteen 
 miles distant, was through a terrific mountain gorge. Com- 
 pelled to hew and dig a road that would admit the trans- 
 portation of cannon, beset by friendly Indians, delayed by 
 their troublesome councils and importunities, and deceived 
 by spies, he occupied two wrecks in making this short 
 march. 
 
 Having at length arrived there, Washington sent out 
 scouts, who kept him informed of all the movements at Fort 
 Du Quesne. Being at length convinced that large rein- 
 forcements had arrived from Canada, he called a council ot 
 war, to determine what course should be pursued. At first 
 it was resolved to make a stand where they were, and a 
 fortification was commenced, and a messenger dispatched to 
 Mackay to hasten forward. The latter, like a true soldier, 
 immediately marched to their relief; when another council 
 was called, in which it was decided that, the enem}^ being 
 in such heavy force, it would be more prudent to retreat. 
 This was no easy matter, and at the same time drag nine 
 swivels over the rough road that lay between the settlement 
 and Fort Necessity. There were but few horses, and those 
 comparatively worthless, so that soldiers were compelled to 
 man the drag-ropes. To set a good example, and encourage 
 and render cheerful the men, Washington gave up his own 
 horse to carry the public stores, and paid the soldiers for 
 transporting his necessary baggage. By dint of great labor 
 they got back to the Great Meadows in two days. They 
 could, however, go no farther, for they had been without 
 bread eight days, and, wear}^ and half-famished, found only 
 two b;igs of flour at the fort. The want of horses and pro- 
 
LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 63 
 
 visions, together with the news that two New York compa- 
 nies had twenty days before arrived at Alexandria, and 
 hence must now be very near them, induced Washington 
 to order a halt, and begin to intrench himself as best he 
 might where he was. An express was sent to these New 
 York companies to hurry forward, and every effort put forth 
 to strengthen the impromptu works of Fort Necessity. 
 
 At length, on the morning of the 30th of July, a mus- 
 ket-shot was heard, and soon after a sentinel, who had been 
 wounded by the enemy, came limping in. Scouts who had 
 been sent out returned breathless with haste, saying that 
 the enemy, nine hundred strong, was only four miles dis- 
 tant. This was stirring news, and Washington immediately 
 drew up his little band of four hundred outside the trenches, 
 and gave the orders not to fire till the enemy was close 
 enough to let their volleys tell. At eleven o'clock the 
 French approached, but halted when six hundred yards dis- 
 tant and commenced firing. Washington, after receiving 
 their fire for some time, and seeing that they had no inten- 
 tion of attempting to carry the works by assault, as he 
 expected, marched his men in again, and told them to fire 
 when and how they pleased. That little breast- work was 
 soon blazing with the irregular volleys. The French how- 
 ever remained at such a distance, and were so sheltered by 
 the trees, that but little execution was done. The rain fell 
 in torrents all day, drenching both armies and filling the 
 trenches round the fort with water. This, however, did 
 not cool the combatants, and a sharp fire was kept up the 
 whole day, and, as twilight deepened over the dripping 
 forest, its dark arcades were lit up by incessant flashes. 
 But at eight in the evening the French called a parley, and 
 requested an officer to be sent to them. Vonbraam, a 
 Dutchman, being the only one that could speak French, was 
 dispatched, and soon returned with a paper containing 
 articles of capitulation. Washington and his officers knew 
 
04 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 
 
 it would be impossible to hold out long against their adver- 
 saries, for the latter could starve them into submission in a 
 short time, and, as the terms proposed were honorable, he 
 accepted them. He and his band were allowed to march 
 out of the fort with drums beating and colors flying, and 
 retire without molestation to the settlements, taking every- 
 thing with them but the artillery. Washington, on the 
 other hand, agreed to restore the prisoners taken in his 
 attack on Jumonville, and not build any more forts west of 
 the mountains for a year. These articles, when they were 
 afterward published, were severely criticised. They con- 
 tained things Washington should not have consented to, and 
 of which he was entirely ignorant at the time of the capitu- 
 lation. The Dutch interpreter had intentionally, or through 
 ignorance, deceived him. When he returned with the 
 articles of capitulation it was raining so heavily, that a 
 candle could with great difficulty be kept burning while he 
 gave a free translation. Under the circumstances a written 
 translation could not be made, and Washington had to 
 depend on the faithfulness of the verbal one. In this 
 nothing was said respecting the erection of forts " west of 
 the Alle^hanies,^' but the specification on that point was ren- 
 dered not to attempt building or improvements on the lands 
 belonging to the French king. To this general promise there 
 could be no objection, as no limits were designated. Again, 
 in the written articles the ** death of Jumonville " was called 
 an '' assassination;" whWc the interpreter used the former 
 expression in translating them. 
 
 Twelve of Washington's command were killed and forty- 
 three wounded. The former he buried in the forest, and 
 with the latter took up his weary march back to the 
 settlements. 
 
 The governor and council approved his course, and the 
 House of Burges-ses, when it assembled, passed a vote of 
 thanks to him and his officers. 
 
LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 55 
 
 Wasliington rejoined his regiment at Alexandria, where 
 he was ordered to fill up the diminished companies and 
 march to Will's creek, to join Colonel Innies, who was then 
 building Fort Cumberland. In short the ardent governor 
 had planned a winter campaign, in a country where there 
 were no roads, no supplies, no forts, expecting it to be car- 
 ried forward by troops without arms, ammunition, provisions 
 or tents. Washington told him the thing was absolutely 
 impossible, and the order was countermanded. 
 
 The Assembly when it met voted twenty thousand 
 pounds for the public service. This, with ten thousand sent 
 over by the English government, put Dinwiddle in funds 
 again, and he set about enlarging the army, by the addition 
 of ten comj)anies of a hundred men each. These were to 
 be independent, and the officers of them to rank those of 
 the same grade in the Virginia regiment, while the highest 
 officers of the latter were reduced to captains. Resenting 
 this degradation as a personal insult, Washington threw up 
 his commission and left the army. 
 
 Shortly after, Governor Sharpe of Maryland, being 
 appointed commander-in-chief of the forces destined to act 
 against the French, solicited Washington to take his place 
 again in the army, hinting that he might retain his old 
 commission. The latter took fire at this, and wrote a tart 
 reply to the governor, saying, " If you think me capable of 
 holding a commission that has neither rank nor emolument 
 annexed to it, you must entertain a very contemptible 
 opinion of my weakness, and beUeve me to be more empty 
 than the commission itself." 
 
 It was with deep regret that he gave up his profession, 
 for he was exceedingly attached to it, and was ambitious of 
 military distinction, He did not, however, long remain 
 idle, for the next spring [March 15th, 1754] General Brad- 
 dock arrived from England, with two regiments of regular 
 troops. These were expected to crush all opposition and 
 
50 LIFE OF TVASHINGTON. 
 
 sweep tliG French from the frontiers. Washmgton, -who 
 had thus far efiected all that had been done, was requested 
 by Braddock to form one of his staff, holding his former 
 rank in the army. To this he acceded, solely, as he 
 avowed, for the purpose of serving his country ; for he 
 expected no emoluments, whatever the result of the expedi- 
 tion might be, as he had resolved to accept no commission 
 from Braddock. 
 
 The march of this army of more than two thousand men 
 was looked upon as the forerunner of the certain and utter 
 destruction of the French, and a subscription paper was 
 actually circulated in Philadelphia to raise money for the 
 celebration of the victory on its return. 
 
 Wasliington joined it at Winchester, and was received in 
 a flattering manner by the officers. The army then started 
 for the interior, and reached Will's creek about the middle 
 of May. Soon after Washington was sent to AVilliamsburg 
 to procure money. On his return the main body was put 
 in motion, advancing slowly, dragging its artillery with 
 difficulty over the uneven roads, and stretching for four 
 miles through the forest, as if on purpose to invite an 
 attack. Washington urged on Braddock the necessity of 
 greater dispatch, and began already to feel uneasiness at the 
 unwieldiness of this straggling army ; he even gave up his 
 own horse to assist in transporting the baggage.. 
 
 At last he was taken sick with a fever, which raged with 
 more or less violence for fourteen days. At the expiration 
 of that time, he endeavored to overtake the army. Unable 
 to sit on a horse, he rode in a covered wagon, but tlie 
 jolting so distressed him that he was compelled to stop on 
 the road, under the charge of a guard. Ilis restlessness 
 under this delay was very great, and nothing but the 
 solemn promise of General Braddock that he should be 
 brought up before the attack on the French at Fort Du 
 Quesne was made, quieted him. To have the finishing bat- 
 
LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 57 
 
 tie take place and he not present, was a thought he could 
 not endure. 
 
 At length, though in a weak, exhausted condition, he 
 came up with the army, on the last of June, at the Great 
 Crossing, a few days before the battle of Monongahela. 
 On the morning of the 9th of July, Braddock forded the 
 Monongahela, just below the junction of the Youghogany, 
 and moved in beautiful order, to the sound of stirring 
 music, along the bank of that quiet stream — the scarlet 
 uniforms of the soldiers contrasting richly with the wealth 
 of green on every side. As Washington's eye fell on this 
 military pageant, new to him, and saw nearly two thousand 
 bayonets iiashing in the morning sunbeams, and moving in 
 steady undulations over the plain, as to the tread of a 
 smgle man, while the summer forest echoed to the roll of 
 the drum and bugle blast, his young heart kindled with 
 enthusiasm, and he declared it was the most glorious spec- 
 tacle he ever beheld. 
 
 About noon the army again waded the Monongahela, and 
 began to move over tlie triangle toward the forks of the 
 two rivers, where, seven miles distant, they united to form 
 the Ohio. A detachment of three hundred and fifty men, 
 under Lieutenant-Colonel Gage, was sent in advance, 
 attended by a working party of two hundred and fifty more. 
 Braddock followed with the artillery, the main army, and 
 baggage. The French had selected an admirable place for 
 an ambuscade. A gentle slojDe, gashed by two ravines that 
 extended from top to bottom on either side, covered with 
 trees and long grass, furnished a secure hiding place, while 
 at the same time, it enabled them to pour a double flank 
 fire on the ascending force. Suddenly, while Gage was 
 moving up this gentle slope, along a path only twelve feet 
 wide, a close and deadly volley smote his uncovered ranks. 
 Volley after volley followed in quick succession, and 
 encircled with fire, rolling on them from an unseen foe, the 
 
 4 
 
58 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 
 
 soldiers broke and fled down the hill, Falling on the artil- 
 lery and baggage, struggling up from below, they threw 
 these into confusion also, Braddock endeavored in vain to 
 restore order. The fire, which seemed to issue from the 
 bowels of the earth, closed on them closer and deadlier 
 every moment, and the ranks melted away like frost-work. 
 The Virginia regiment wished to take to the trees, and fight 
 the Indians in their own fashion, but Braddock forbade 
 them and endeavored to form close columns, -which only 
 allowed death to traverse his ranks with more ra]:)id foot- 
 steps. Confused by this new mode of fighting, and by the 
 unearthly yells of the Indians, the regular troops lost all 
 discipline — they fired wildly, without seeing the enemy, 
 and would not obey their officers. A few discharges of 
 grape up those ravines would have forced the enemy from 
 their place of concealment, or a single steady charge of 
 bayonets, scattered the Indians in aftright. But neither 
 •was done, and for more than two hours those bewildered 
 troops were held by their officers to that fatal spot, only to 
 be shot down. Braddock had five liorses killed under him 
 in succession, and at length was hurled to the ground b}- a 
 ball through his lungs. The officers struggled bravely, 
 charging together like common infantry, to stimulate their 
 followers to bear up against the storm, and presented a sub- 
 lime spectacle of devotion on that ill-fated field. Brad- 
 dock's two aids were borne wounded from the battle, 
 leaving Washington alone to distribute orders. Here his 
 military qualities shone forth in their greatest splendor. 
 Tliough pale and feeble, he forgot his exhausted condition 
 in the excitement of the moment, and with his fine face lit 
 up with the fire of enthusiasm, he galloped through the 
 disordered host, his tall form presenting a constant mark to 
 the sharp-shooters, whose bullets rattled like Iiail-stones 
 around him. Men were falling on every side, almost entire 
 •companies at a time, yet reckless of danger he spurred his 
 
LIFE OF WASHINaTON. 59 
 
 steed over the dead and dying alike, straining every nerve 
 to save the battle and the army. Two horses were shot 
 under him, but he rose each time from the earth unharmed. 
 Four balls joassed through his coat. An ol^ chief singled 
 him out and bade his young braves do the same, but after 
 striving in vain to hit him, became alarmed, and told his 
 men to desist from firing at one who was plainly under the 
 care of the great Manitou. Cool and self-possessed the 
 young aid stood like a rock on that turbulent field, and to 
 see him endeavor to stem the panic and disorder, one would 
 have thought he had been tried in a hundred battles, than 
 of being, as he was, in his first field fight. 
 
 Of eighty-six officers, sixty-three had fallen ; while half 
 the entire army was stretched on the field. Of three Vir- 
 ginia companies, only thirty men were left standing, and 
 scarcely a single officer remained unwounded. "Washington 
 saw his brave Virginians thus uselessly sacrificed with a 
 bursting heart. But faithful to the orders given them, they 
 formed a glorious example to the cowardly regulars, on 
 whom threats, entreaties, and the noble devotion of their 
 officers were alike thrown away. At length the turbulent 
 mass turned in flight, and over the dead and dying, and 
 over their own cannon, went streaming along the road like 
 a herd of frightened animals. All the provision and bag- 
 gage, even the general's private papers, were left behind in 
 the panic. Washington rode hither and thither, endeavor- 
 ing to rally a rear-guard, but was borne helplessly along in 
 the living torrent. Braddock was carried from the field in 
 a tumbril, but being unable to bear the motion, was trans- 
 ferred to a litter and hurried forward. All day long he 
 never spoke, but at night he seemed to rouse for a moment, 
 ■and exclaimed in amazement, " Who ivould have thought it?'' 
 Beaching Dunbar's camp, the panic was communicated to 
 the garrison there, and burning the public stores and bag- 
 gage, and destroying the artillery, the entu-e army fleeing 
 
60 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 
 
 from its own shadow streamed on through the forest. Life 
 was fast ebbing away from the stunned and discomfited 
 general, and ho lay in a half stupor ; as if struggling with 
 some dreadful dream. At night he at length roused again, 
 saying, " We shall better know how to deal with them 
 another time." But he had done with all future time, and 
 was already entering that calm world where the sound of 
 battle never comes. The litter on which he lay was set 
 down, and his remaining officers gathered sadly around it. 
 As a last token of gratitude to his young volunteer aid, for 
 his noble devotion and heroism, he gave him a splendid 
 charger and his own body servant. A brief farewell — a 
 flint gasp — a weak struggle — and Braddock lay a corpse in 
 the forest. A grave was hastily dug in the centre of the 
 road, to conceal it from the Indians, into which, with his 
 sword lain across his breast, he was lowered. Young Wash- 
 ington read the funeral service by torchlight over him, the 
 deep tones of his voice interrupted only by the solemn 
 amen of the surrounding officers. The motionless torch- 
 bearers — the encircling forest, with its dimly lighted corri- 
 dors — the long line of receding bayonets flashing in the 
 light — the uncovered officers — the open grave, and beside 
 it the pale face of the sleeper, combined to form a scene at 
 once picturesque and most solemn. A mark was left to 
 designate the spot, and the army again defiled through the 
 wilderness. Alone, the defeated warrior lay in his rude 
 grave, safe from the mortification and anguish that awaited 
 him in the settlements and in the army. The place of his 
 burial can still be seen, a little oJ0f from the national road, 
 and about a mile from Fort Necessity. 
 
 All this time a far different scene was passing around 
 Fort Du Quesne. Tlie Indian allies of the French were 
 frantic with joy, for never before had they reaped such a 
 rich harvest of white men. The slope up which Braddock 
 had attempted to force his way was literally crowded with 
 
DEFEAT OF BRADDOCK. 
 
LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 63 
 
 the dead and wounded, the scarlet uniforms of whom con- 
 trasted brightly with the green grass over which they were 
 sprinkled. The tomahawk was soon crushing through skulls 
 in which the brain still throbbed with life, and the scalp- 
 ing-knife glancing around the heads of those already dead. 
 At night the woods surrounding the fort exhibited a perfect 
 Pandemonium. The exultant yells and frantic movements 
 of the Indians as they danced and shouted together, 
 shaking their bloody arms and knives above their heads, 
 the heavy explosions of the cannon from the fort, mingling 
 in with the incessant discharge of small arms without, com- 
 bined to form one of the most frightful exhibitions the eye 
 ever rests upon. The next day the savages painted them- 
 selves in the most gaudy colors, and, dressed in the scarlet 
 uniforms of the soldiers and the rich aj)parel and cha- 
 peaux of the officers, paraded around the fort in ludicrous 
 ostentation. 
 
 The English army at length reached the settlements, 
 sending consternation and affright through the colonies, and 
 "Washington retired to Mount Vernon. 
 
 It was well for Braddock that he reposed in the forest, 
 for it would have been worse than death to have met the 
 deep and utter condemnation of the peojDle. But from the 
 general obloquy that fell on nearly all connected with this 
 ill-fated expedition, Washington was not only exempted, but 
 received laudations innumerable. His gallantry, his chival- 
 ric bearing, and his miraculous escape, were the theme of 
 every tongue. Said Davis, a distinguished clergyman, in 
 referring to this defeat in a sermon, " I point out that 
 heroic youth. Colonel Washington, whom I cannot hut hope 
 Providence has preserved, in so signal a manner, for some im- 
 portant service to his country." A remarkable prophecy, 
 as thus uttered from the pulpit. " Who," said Lord Hali- 
 fax, in a letter to a friend, " is Mr. Washington ? I 
 know nothing of him, but that they say he behaved in 
 
64 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 
 
 Braddock's action as bravely as though he really loved 
 the whistling of bullets." 
 
 Either Washington's conduct during this campaign has 
 been most imiDcrfectly given, or he at this early age joos- 
 sessed that strange power over others which later m life 
 formed one of his great characteristics. He was only a 
 provincial officer and a volunteer, and it was not merely 
 because he behaved gallantly in battle, like all the rest, that 
 his dying commander bequeathed to him his faithful ser- 
 vant, or that his superiors selected him as the most fitting 
 officer to act as chaplain. His bearing, language, actions, 
 all must have possessed extraordinary attractions. 
 
 Disgusted with the ignominious termination of Brad- 
 dock's campaign, still feeble and wasted from his five weeks' 
 fever, followed, as it had been, by such exhausting labors 
 and mental anxiety, Washington hailed the quiet retreat of 
 Mount Vernon with the pleasure that the long tost mariner 
 greets the sight of land. Nothing but a frame of prodi- 
 gious strength, and a constitution to match it, could have 
 carried him through what he had undergone. But on the 
 tranquil shores of the Potomac, his health gradually 
 recruited, yet for a time he seemed little inclined to enter 
 again the stormy scenes into which he had been thrown for 
 the last two years. He was now but twenty- three years of 
 age, and yet had passed through vicissitudes and trials 
 sufficient for a lifetime. 
 
 He was not, however, long allowed to lay becalmed in 
 the Ijay where he had sought shelter. His conduct in the 
 battle of Monongahela, coupled with his former services, 
 made him the most marked military man in the colony, and 
 pointed him out as the proper leader of its forces. 
 
 The Assembly was in session at this time, in Williams- 
 burg, and several of the members, one being his elder 
 brother, wrote him, requesting his presence there, as it 
 would facilitate a plan they had formed to get him the 
 
LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 65 
 
 appointment of commander-in-chief of the forces of the 
 colony. To these invitations Washington replied, that if 
 there were no other reasons to prevent his complying, his 
 health alone would be a sufficient excuse, as it was with the 
 utmost difficulty he could ride over his different plantations. 
 To his brother he wrote that he was always willing to ren- 
 der his country any service he was capable of, but never 
 upon the terms he had done — impairing his fortune, and 
 ruining the " best of constitutions," and receiving nothing 
 but neglect in return. Said he, " I was emplojed to go a 
 journey in the winter, when I believe few or none would 
 have undertaken it — and what did I get by it ? Mi/ ex- 
 penses borne! I then was appointed, with trifling pay, to 
 conduct a handful of men to the Ohio. AYliat did I get by 
 that ?• Why, after putting myself to a considerable expense 
 in equipping and providing necessaries for the campaign, I 
 went out, was soundly beaten, and lost them all ! came in 
 and had my commission taken from me, or in other words, 
 my command reduced, under pretence of an order from 
 home ! I then went out a volunteer with General Brad- 
 dock, lost all my horses, and many other things. But this 
 being a voluntary act, I ought not to have mentioned it, 
 nor should I have done it, were it not to show that I have 
 been on the losing order ever since I entered the service, 
 which is now nearly two years." A sorry picture, truly, 
 of his past experience ; and the young and fiery commander, 
 now thoroughly aroused, will have nothing more to do with 
 a- government so reckless of his rights and so destitute of 
 common justice. His indignation at the course it has pur- 
 sued, at length finds utterance, and he will no longer be 
 made the plaything of power. 
 
 To Warner Lewis, another member who had written him 
 on the same subject, he declared he would never accept the 
 command if tendered, unless something certain was secured 
 to him, and he was allowed to designate who should be his 
 
(jQ LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 
 
 subordinate officers. He ■would not again put liiuisolf in 
 positions where his life and honor depended on the behavior 
 of his officers, unless he could have the selection of them. 
 A small military chest, he also considered indispensable to 
 the proper management of military affiiirs. 
 
 In the meantime, however, his appointment had been 
 made out. Forty thousand pounds were voted for the pub- 
 lic service ; three hundred pounds to Washington, and 
 a2)propriate sums to the subordinate officers. It was re- 
 solved to increase the Virginia regiment to sixteen com- 
 panies, and grant to Washington all that he had demanded, 
 besides giving him an aid-de-camp and secretary. As soon 
 as the news of his appointment reached him, he set off 
 for Williamsburg, notwithstanding his feeble health, to con- 
 sult with the governor about future operations. He was 
 too sick to ride a hundred and sixty miles to beg for office, 
 but not to fulfill its duties when given him. He was too 
 sick in the Alleghany mountains to have traveled back to 
 his home, wdiere he could find comfort and good nursing, 
 but not too sick to hurry forward to the battle of Monon- 
 gahela, and rage like a lion over the lost field. He never 
 was too sick to do his duty or to save his country. 
 
 Havuig settled upon a plan with the governor, Washing- 
 ton immediately made every department of the military 
 organization of the state feel his energy. Fixing his head- 
 quarters at Winchester, he sent out recruiting officers to fill 
 up his regiment, the estimates of which he sent to the gov- 
 ernor, and then once more turned his horse's head toward 
 the Alleghany mountains, which from bojdiood had been 
 the scene of his thrilling adventures. Once more, elate 
 with hope, he entered their rugged passes, and going from 
 post to post, visited every one on the frontier from Fort 
 ''Dinwiddie, on Jackson's river, to Fort Cumberland. He 
 observed every thing, learned every thing to be gained, and 
 'ssucd orders to each in turn. lie then stai'tcd for AVil 
 
LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 67 
 
 liamsburg, to consult with the governor, but had proceeded 
 only a part of the way when he was overtaken by an express 
 declaring that the Indians had suddenly burst ujDon the 
 settlements, murdered the inhabitants, blocked up the ran- 
 gers in small fortresses, and were spreading devastation and 
 terror on every side. He immediately galloped back to 
 Winchester, summoned the militia, called on the recruits to 
 hasten to head-quarters, and soon had a respectable force 
 under his command. The report, however, was exagge- 
 rated, but nothing could allay the terror of the inhabitants, 
 who swarmed in droves across the valley between the Blue 
 Ridge and the Alleghanies; many not stopping till they 
 had j)ut the last mountain barrier between them and the 
 enemy. 
 
 The colonies, at this early period, were so tenacious of 
 their liberties, that very little power was given to the com- 
 mander over the militia or civil authorities. The evil of 
 this Washington soon felt in the insubordination of his 
 troops, and the stul^l^orn refusal of the settlers to assist him 
 in transporting his men and baggage. He was comjDclled 
 to impress wagons and men into the service, and enforce 
 every order by his " own dra^vn sword " over the head of 
 the delinquent, or by the bayonets of a party of his soldiers. 
 This so exas^Dcrated the inhabitants that they threatened to 
 blow out his brains. He, however, by his strong arm, kept 
 down both open mutiny and rebellion, and j^ushed forward 
 his plans with all the energy he 230ssessed. Meanwhile 
 [Oct. 11th, 1755,] he wrote to the governor, detailing the 
 difficulties under which he labored, and requesting that 
 more power should be delegated to the commander-in-chief. 
 
 While things Avere in this disordered state, there came on 
 Saturday night an express, panting with fear and exhaus- 
 tion, announcing that a party of Indians were only twelve 
 miles off, driving the frightened inhabitants from their 
 dwellings. Washington immediately strengthened the 
 
68 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 
 
 town-guards and ordered the troops to be armed, while he 
 sent out two scouts to give notice of the approach of the 
 savages. At dayhght a second express arrived, " ten times 
 more terrified than the former," declaring that the Indians 
 were within four miles of the town, " killing and destroj-ing- 
 all before them ;" that he had heard the shrieks and cries 
 of the murdered. The whole place was immediately thrown 
 into the wildest commotion. Washington, hastily collecting 
 forty men, sallied forth and marched rapidly toward the 
 place where this scene of carnage was transpiring. As he 
 approached it lie heard the firing of guns, and shouts and 
 horrid imprecations. But on advancing nearer he disco- 
 vered that all this uproar w\as caused by " three drunken 
 soldiers of the light-horse," who, in the midst of their 
 debauch, amused themselves by uttering blasphemies and 
 firing their pistols in the air. Peremptorily ordering them 
 under arrest, he marched them back to town. On his 
 arrival he met the spies sent out the night before, who 
 reported that the party of Indians first discovered consisted 
 of a mulatto and negro, whom a child had seen hunting 
 cattle. The child had told her story to her father, the 
 father to the neighborhood, and the inhabitants, terrified 
 out of reason, had abandoned their homes and tied to a 
 place of refuge. The next day other scouts, who had been 
 sent farther on, returned with letters from the outposts, 
 stating that the Indians had gone off. They were supposed 
 to be about one hundred and fifty in number, and had, in 
 their raid into the distant settlements, killed and tidven 
 prisoners about seventy men, and destroyed several planta- 
 tions and houses. 
 
 Tlie panic of the inhabitants at those massacres reached 
 almost to frenzy, and they crowded the roads across the 
 Blue Ridge, so that it was with difficulty a company of 
 rangers could effect a passage. 
 
 But the Indians having retired, Washington rei)aircd to 
 
LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 69 
 
 the seat of government, and, by dint of j)erseverance, pre- 
 vailed on the assembly to pass a bill giving power to the 
 commander to hold court-martials and punish mutiny, deser- 
 tion and disobedience. Having accomplished this he re- 
 turned to head-quarters in better spirits, and began to 
 prepare for an early spring campaign. Sometimes at Alex- 
 andria and again at Fort Cumberland, going from post to 
 post, and placing everything on the best possible footing 
 that his means allowed, he passed the latter part of autumn 
 and the first half of winter. His duties w^ere laborious and 
 harassing in the extreme, and he here had an admirable 
 training in the school of patience, which enabled him after- 
 ward to bear with the meanness, dilatoriness and inefficiency 
 of Congress. 
 
 In the mean time an event occurred, which shows to what 
 a ruinous point the petty rivalries and jealousies of officers 
 and the spirit of insubordination had reached in the colo- 
 nies. At Fort Cumberland was stationed a Captain Dag- 
 worthy, who had been put there by Governor Sharpe of 
 Maryland. Having held a royal commission, he considered 
 himself superior in rank to any provincial officer, and hence 
 refused to pay any regard to Washington's orders. This, 
 of course, the latter w^ould not submit to, and wrote to 
 Governor Dinwiddle for exjDress orders on the subject. But 
 the wary governor, remembering that he himself had for- 
 merly sanctioned this very assumption of rank of the regu- 
 lar commissioned officers over the provincials of higher 
 grade, and reflecting, too, that the fort was in the province 
 of Maryland, whose governor he knew upheld the captain, 
 he refused to give any orders. He did not hesitate, how 
 ever, to intimate j)retty clearly that Washington had better 
 arrest the refractory captain. But the latter was not thus 
 to be caught, and wrote back that his authority must be 
 confirmed, or he should at once resign his commission. As 
 a last resort, it was proposed to refer the matter to Gover- 
 
70 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 
 
 nor Shirley, in Boston, avIio at this time was commander-in- 
 chief of the British forces in the colonies. Washino-ton 
 was appointed bearer of 'his own petition, and on the 4th 
 of Febru;u\y, accompanied by his aid-de-camp Captain Mer- 
 cer, and Captain Stewart, set ont on horseback for Boston. 
 That a paltry captain, commanding only thirty men, should 
 thus arrest the military operations of a whole state, and 
 send the commander-in-chief of its forces five hundred 
 miles, in the dead of winter, on horseback, to settle whether 
 he should obey orders given for mutual benefit and the 
 :;ommon good, seems, at this day, quite incomprehensible. 
 But this peculiar sensitiveness respecting individual rights, 
 though often exhibiting itself in absurd forms, was never- 
 theless necessary to the development of that spirit of resist- 
 ^ance to the encroachments of the mother country, which 
 afterward secured our independence. 
 
 Accompanied by his two subordinates, the 3'oung colonel 
 took his long, cold and dreary journc}' northward. The re- 
 port of his chivalric and gallant character had joreceded him, 
 and he was every where received with courtesy and honor. 
 Valuable acquaintances were formed and useful know- 
 ledge gained. Mr. Beverly Robinson, a strong loyalist, and 
 in the Ilevolution afterward a Tory, received him at New 
 York as his guest, and entertained him with rare hospitality. 
 A sister of Mrs. Ilobinson was staying in the family at the 
 time, M'hose beauty and winning manners soon took captive 
 the chivalric heart of the young southern colonel. He had 
 forgotten his lowland beauty, and when he bade adieu to 
 the hospitable mansion of Mr. Robinson, to prosecute his 
 journey to Boston, he felt that he had left a large portion 
 of his happiness behind him. 
 
 Having o])tainod full and ample authority from Governor 
 Shirley, he returned to New York, and was again ])laccd 
 under the influence of Miss Phillips' charms. Lingering 
 here as long as duty would permit him, he at length turned 
 
LIFE OF WASHlNaTON. 71 
 
 his reluctant footsteps southward. Wliether he gave the 
 ladj any indications of his passion, or whether he resolved 
 to wait till more leisure would furnish him a better oppor- 
 tunity of renewing his suit, does not appear. At all events, 
 he was deeply in love, and could not leave until he had 
 confessed it to a friend, and engaged him to keep watch of 
 her movements, so that if any rival appeared he could be 
 informed of it at once. In a short time a young officer, 
 one of Braddock's aids and an acquaintance of Washington, 
 became a suitor of Miss Phillips. Washington's friend 
 immediately wrote him of the dangerous state of affairs, 
 and told him, if he wished to win the lady, he must come 
 on at once. But whether the duties of his command de- 
 tained him at home, or whether, having ascertained the 
 name of his rival, he was too magnanimous to endeavor to 
 supplant him, was never known. She, however, passed 
 away with the " lowland beauty," leaving the young colonel 
 to forget his passion in the exciting scenes of the camp. 
 
 Reaching Williamsburg about the time of the meeting 
 of the assembly, he set about arranging with the governor 
 a plan for the summer camj^aign. The want of artillery, 
 means of transportation, etc., rendered offensive operations 
 impossible, and it was resolved simplj^ to defend the frontier 
 already occupied by British outjDOsts. The jealousy of the 
 separate states preventing them from uniting in a common 
 campaign against the French, Virginia, which was most 
 threatened, was left alone to defend her extensive borders. 
 A bill was therefore passed to raise the army to fifteen hun- 
 dred men, and another for drafting the militia, when recruits 
 were wanting. 
 
72 LIFE OF WASHINGTON 
 
 CHAPTER m. 
 
 Fresh Hostilities of the Indians — Attempts to Supersede Washington — Anonymous 
 Libels — Washington wishes to Resign — Prevented by his Friends — Establishes 
 a Line of Forts — Harassing Nature of his Duties — Attends a Convention at 
 Phihuklphia — His Sickness and Retirement to Mount Vernon— Progress of the 
 War — Frederick the Great — Washington's first Acquaintance with Mrs. Custis — 
 Advance of the Army to Fort Uu Qucsne — Washington required to cut a New 
 Road — His Forebodings likely to prove true — Capture of the Fort — Election of 
 Washington to tlie House of Burgesses — His Marriage — Life at Mount Vernon — 
 Collision with a Poacher— Settles the Soldiers' Claims— Expedition to the Western 
 Wilderness to examine the Wild Lands — Admirable Preparation for his Future 
 Career. 
 
 WASinNGTON repaired to head-quarters at Winchester. 
 But few troops, however, were there, the greater part being 
 stationed in the different forts on the frontier. 
 
 The savages, emboldened by the long inaction of the 
 whites, began to hover in dark and threatening war clouds 
 around the settlements. The more remote ones being 
 abandoned, the Indians pushed forward to those bcj'ond the 
 Blue Bidge, and swooped down around the very head-quar- 
 ters of the commander-in-chief Scouting parties were 
 driven in — forts boldly attacked, and officers killed. The 
 woods seemed alive with the lurking foe — men were shot 
 down in the field, and women and children found massacred 
 on the floors of their own dwellings. From every direction 
 came tales of horror and thrilling accoimts of suffering and 
 torture. Spreading terror along the whole frontier, the 
 savages penetrated to within a few miles of Winchester, 
 killing officers and men. With but few soldiers under his 
 command, Washington could not be omnipresent, while it 
 would not answer to withdraw any of the garrisons, for 
 large numbers of the settlers were gathered in every fort. 
 Growing bolder by success, the savages seriously threatened 
 the forts themselves, and Washington expected every day 
 
LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 73 
 
 to hear of tlieir fall and the massacre of all within. With 
 a heart swelling with indignation and pity, he entreated the 
 assembly to send him helj). To add to his anguish, com- 
 plaints continually reached him of the gross misconduct 
 of some of his officers, and murmurs against him l)egan to 
 rise in various quarters. An anonymous writer published 
 in a newspaper all the floating and exaggerated rumors 
 respecting the officers, and though not daring to charge the 
 blame directly on Washington, he yet plainly hinted that a 
 leader should be held responsible for the irregularities of 
 his subordinates. A faction of Scotchmen had been formed, 
 whose purpose was to get rid of the present commander-in- 
 chief, and place colonel Innies in his place. Disgusted, and, 
 for the time, depressed, by the apathy of the government, 
 his own fettered condition, the false accusations made by 
 anonymous writers, and above all, by the sufferings of the 
 inhabitants, which he had not the power to relieve, Wash- 
 ington wished to resign his commission. In a letter to the 
 governor, after depicting the deplorable condition of things, 
 he says : " I am too little acquainted, sir, with pathetic lan- 
 guage, to attemjot a description of the people's distresses, 
 though I have a generous soul, sensible of wrongs and 
 swelling for redress. I see their situation, know their dan- 
 ger, and participate in their sufferings, v/ithout having it in 
 my power to give them further relief than uncertain pro- 
 mises." These things, together with the unmerited abuse 
 heaped upon the officers, and thus, indirectly upon himself, 
 make him regret the day he accejoted his commission; while 
 the prayers and tears of men and women, begging for that 
 relief he eannot afford, and the increasing reports of Indian 
 murders and cruelty, which will be laid to his charge, as 
 commander-in-chief, fill up the cup of bitterness which he 
 is compelled to drink, and he exclaims : " The supi3licating 
 tears of the women, and moving petitions of the men, melt 
 me into such deadly sorrow, that I solemnly declare, if I 
 
74 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 
 
 know my own mind, I could offer myself a willing sacrifice 
 to the butchering enemy, provided that would contribute to 
 the ^^eople's ease." It was enough to move a heart of 
 stone, to see that young man, only twenty-four years of age, 
 burning to rescue the defenseless inhaljitants, and panting 
 for action ; standing with idle hands and fettered feet, sur- 
 rounded with gray-haired fathers and weeping orphans, 
 whom the Indians had bereft of friends, his ears constantly 
 stunned with tales of horrid murder, praying in bitterness 
 of spirit, that he might be offered up a sacrifice, to effect 
 that which an inefficient government will not permit him 
 to do. 
 
 His friends in the council and assembly, were alarmed at 
 the intimation that he wished to resign, and appealed to 
 his patriotism and pride to dissuade him from so fatal a 
 purpose. They declared no one Ijelieved the libels that 
 appeared in print, and soon the author of them would be 
 detected. A letter from Loudon, probably had more effect 
 than any other remonstrance. The sagacious patriot told 
 Washington that his resignation was probably the very 
 result his libeler was after, so that he himself might take 
 his place. He knew this would tell on the high, sensitive 
 spirit of Washington, and he wound up with, *' No sir, 
 rather let Braddock's bed be your aim, than any thing 
 might discolor those laurels which I promise myself are 
 kept in store for you." 
 
 The plot being discovered, its authors were covered with 
 disgrace, and Washington retained his command. His 
 position, however, continued to be a most trying one. 
 The officious governor, not content with taking, care of 
 matters at home, using his power to augment, pay, clothe 
 and feed the army, was constantly intcrmeddHng with its 
 movements, perplexing and harassing Washington lioj'ond 
 measure with his absurd orders. 
 
 The summer and autumn [175G] were passed in building 
 
BURIAL OF ERADDOCK. 
 
LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 77 
 
 forts and defending the country from Indian encroacli- 
 ments, still every thing was in confusion. Soldiers were 
 wanted, and if furnished, there was no clothing nor 
 provisions prepared for them. Those already enrolled 
 received only six-j)ence, sterling, per day, two of the eight- 
 pence allowed being kept back to buy clothing with, 
 which, some how or other, failed to reach its destination. 
 
 Washington wished to hold only a few forts, and have 
 them well garrisoned. Fort Cumberland being out of the 
 state, and too far in advance of the settlements that re- 
 mained, to be of any service, he proposed to abandon it, 
 or at least withdraw all the troops with the exception of a 
 single company, and build another fort between it and 
 Winchester. But the governor would not listen to the pro- 
 posal, while instead of lessening the number of forts, the 
 assembly proposed to extend a line of them from the 
 Potomac to North Carolina — running for three hundred 
 miles through the Alleghanies. Washington asked for 
 more men, and the assembly replied by bidding him build 
 more forts. The former declared the garrisons were quite 
 weak enough already, without spreading them over a still 
 larger surface, thus provoking the enemy to cut them off in 
 detail. His remonstrance, however, had no effect ; these 
 civilians knew more than the commander-in-chief; and he' 
 set about the arduous work forced upon him with all his 
 accustomed energy. The line on which the forts were to 
 be erected was determined by a council of officers at Fort 
 Cumberland, and soon tools and men were dispatched to._ 
 the different localities. These Washington visited in turn, 
 and once made the entire tour of three hundred miles, 
 exposed almost every step of his progress to the rifle shot of 
 the savage. Most of the way he had no escort but a ser- 
 vant and guide, and thus accompanied, passed on one 
 occasion a spot where, an hour afterward, two men were 
 killed by the Indians. He found the militia insubordinate, 
 
 5 
 
78 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 
 
 the officers away, and every thing at loose ends. There 
 was no vigilance — no discipline. In one case he found the 
 militia stubbornly refusing to lift their hands toward 
 erecting the fort, till paid forty pounds of tobacco, which 
 they declared to be their due. The works, however, were 
 slowly carried forward, and the sound of the pickaxe and 
 hammer — the call of the teamster, and the morning and 
 evening gun, awoke the echoes of that vast wilderness, 
 marking the barrier which the white man had reared 
 against the savage, who from that time on has been 
 crowded back, till the shadows of the Rocky Mountains 
 now fall on his lodjres. 
 
 Washington's letters to Governor Dinwiddie, during the 
 summer and autumn, are a succession of appeals to put the 
 military of the state on a better footing. Families butch- 
 ered within twelve miles of his head-quarters — insubordina- 
 tion of his troops — the want of clothing, provisions and 
 tirras — complaints of being compelled to be in turn his own 
 commissary and engineer — that to-day he is supplied with 
 one batch of orders, to-morrow with others directly contra- 
 dictory — troubles with Quakers who had been drafted, but 
 would " be whipped to death " rather than fight — short 
 levies of soldiers — court-martials for desertion — empty mili- 
 tary chest — skirmishes with the Indians, and often bootless 
 pursuit of them — constant struggle with difficulties, where 
 no glory could be gained, made up the budget of the sum- 
 mer. The encouraging letters of staunch friends — the 
 advice of Col. Fairfax to read Caisar's Commentaries and 
 Quintius Curtius, in order to learn how to bear trials, were 
 all very well in their way, yet a poor compensation for 
 what he suflered. 
 
 At this early stage of his career he commenced that strict 
 -discipline which he ever after maintained in an army of the 
 •most irregular troops in the world. Hearing that profanity 
 prevailed in his regiment, he issued an order of the day, in 
 
LIFE OP WASHINGTON. 79 
 
 which " the officers are desired, if they hear any man 
 swear, or make use of any oath or execration, to order the 
 offender twenty-five lashes immediately, without a court- 
 martial. For the second offense he will be more severely 
 punished." To a captain who had taken advantage of his 
 years to write somewhat haughtily to his young colonel, he 
 replied that he had heard bad reports of him, and concluded 
 by saying, "If I hear any just complaints against you, you 
 may expect to answer them." To another captain, whose 
 
 lieutenant was refractory, he wrote, " Tell Mr, L he is 
 
 not to stir from his post at his peril until he has leave ; if he 
 does, I will arrest him for his disobedience of orders, and 
 try him as soon as he arrives here." 
 
 Earl Loudon had succeeded Governor Shirley in the chief 
 command in the colonies, and was now on his way to this 
 country. He was expected to land in Virginia, and Wash- 
 ington, in anticipation of his arrival, drew up a lucid paper, 
 containing a narrative of events since the beginning of hos- 
 tilities, pointed out the errors that had been made, and sug- 
 gested the course that should be adopted in future. • Loudon, 
 however, did not go to Virginia, but called a meeting 
 [March, 1757,] of the different governors and chief officers 
 at Philadelphia. Washington was among the number, and 
 was received by the commander-in-chief with marked atten- 
 tion. In that convention it was decided that, in prosecut- 
 ing the war which had now been openly declared by 
 England against France, the whole force of the army should 
 be directed against the Canada borders. Virginia was to be 
 left to carry out her defensive operations, which doomed 
 Washington to the perplexing, harassing life of the past 
 year. He returned to Winchester, recalled the troops from 
 Fort Cumberland, by order of Loudon, and employed him- 
 self in resisting the encroachments of the Indians. 
 
 During the summer [1757] he was subject to the orders , 
 of Colonel Stanwix, stationed in Pennsylvania, whom Lou- 
 
80 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 
 
 don had placed over the middle and southern provinces. In 
 the mean time he urged an expedition against Fort Du 
 Quesne, declaring that the mustering of forces in the north 
 had so exhausted the French garrisons along the Ohio that 
 they Avould fall an easy conquest. The governor coincided 
 with him in his views, but he was not allowed to carry them 
 out, and the summer wore away in struggling with the old 
 dilTiculties, and in skirmishes with the Indians, whose pre- 
 sence near the fort was always announced by the murder 
 of white men. 
 
 But in the autumn Washington began to decline in health. 
 His magnificent constitution was evidently sinking, and, 
 though he endeavored for a while to bear up against the 
 pressure of disease, he at length yielded before it, and 
 retired to Mount Vernon and took to his bed. Although 
 his physical labors had been of the most exhausting kind, 
 it was not so much these as the harassed and perplexed 
 state of mind he was kept in by others, that finally broke 
 him down. A slow fever settled upon him, and for four 
 months he was kept at home an invalid. 
 
 In January, Governor Dinwiddie sailed for England, leav- 
 ing few regrets behind him. Although zealous and active 
 in the service of the colonies, he was petulant, meddlesome, 
 and a constant marplot to most of the military operations 
 of AVashington. In the latter part of his career he seemed 
 to delight in thwarting the plans of the young officer whom 
 he had at first befriended. For defeating one of them he 
 ought to be held in grateful remembrance. It was the 
 earnest desire of Washington to enter the regular army, 
 and lie set on foot measures to secure his transfer, and 
 would have succeeded but for the interference of the gover- 
 nor. What effect on liis future career his duty and honor 
 as a British oflicer would have had, it is impossible to deter- 
 mine, but probably quite enough to prevent his becoming 
 commander-in-chief of the rebel forces. 
 
LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 81 
 
 Tlie great interest of the colonies now gathered round 
 the northern border, where two strong armies were assem 
 bUng to decide the fate of a continent. But both Loudon 
 V and Abercrombie seemed in no haste to precipitate a crisis, 
 and let the months wear away in idleness. All this time 
 the small, rapid, irritable, yet clear-headed Field-Marshal 
 Montcalm was improving every hour. Loading the Indians 
 with presents, but refusing them rum, singing with the dif- 
 ferent tribes their war-songs, he aroused their enthusiasm 
 and bound them to him by strong affection. Their activity 
 in his service soon drenched the frontier in blood. 
 
 About two months before Washington retired to Mount 
 Vernon sick, the capture and massacre of Fort William 
 Henry took place — the Braddock defeat of the north. 
 Every movement of the regular troops proved disastrous, and 
 the provincials effected all that was done. The English 
 had not now a foothold in the basin of the Ohio ; they had 
 been driven away from the St. Lawrence, both sides of 
 which the French held possession. The northern lakes, 
 too, had fallen into the hands of the latter, and their armies, 
 swelled by vast hordes of Indians, threatened to sweep 
 downward to Albany, The British arms and the provinces 
 were disgraced. All this Washington saw and felt, as he 
 lay and tossed on his feverish bed. But Pitt once more 
 stood at the head of the government, and it was expected 
 that under his energetic administration, affairs would soon 
 assume a different aspect. As a relief to the inertness and 
 imbecility of these distinguished commanders came the 
 war-shout of Frederic of Prussia, from the heights of Ross- 
 bach, as with twenty thousand nlen he chased sixty thou- 
 sand before him — and the loud chorus of his troops as they 
 stormed over the batteries of Leuthen. Standing up in 
 central Europe, this strong-hearted hero " determined to 
 save his country or perish." With Russia, Sweden, Austria 
 and France closing steadily upon him with their powerful 
 
82 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 
 
 armies, his brave spirit only rose with the increasing dan- 
 ger. " To save the state," said he, " I dare the impossible." 
 " The number and position of the enemy are not questions 
 to be thouglit of. We must beat them, or all of us hnd our 
 graves before their batteries." About going into battle, he 
 said — " The regiment of cavalry that shall not instantly 
 charge when ordered, shall be dismounted and sent into 
 garrison — the battalion of infantry that shall but falter, 
 shall lose its colors and its swords. Now farewell, friends ; 
 soon we shall have vanquished, or see each other no more.' 
 With these brave words, though outnumbered three to one 
 he turned on his powerful adversaries in succession, and 
 with blow after blow, that astounded the civilized world, 
 overwhelmed their pride and redeemed his country. Such 
 tidings ever and anon came to Washington's, ears, as he lay 
 an invalid, showing that his views of a true hero were not 
 ideal. Frederic became one of his favorite characters ; he 
 watched his struggle with the deepest sympathy, and was 
 no doubt influenced much in after life by his conduct and 
 character. He was the only living man of whom Wash- 
 ington had a bust in his house at Mount Vernon. 
 
 As spring opened Washington slowly improved ; but he 
 considered his constitution so thoroughly broken down that 
 it would require great care and a long time to recruit, and 
 he seriously contemplated resigning his command and all 
 prospects of preferment. He, however, changed his pur- 
 pose, and in March set out to join the army. The effort 
 of travel brought on a return of his disease, but he ral- 
 lied again, and soon after resumed his command at Fort 
 Loudon. 
 
 In the mean time Pitt had made some changes in colo- 
 nial matters. Francis Fauquier was appointed to take the 
 place of Dinwiddie, and Forbes of Stanwix. Loudon had 
 been superseded by Jeffrey Amherst, who was seconded by 
 the gallant Wolf, while — though Abcrcrombie retained his 
 
LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 83 
 
 command- — Lord Howe bad been appointed as tbe real 
 leader of tbe enterprise intrusted to bim. Tbree expedi- 
 tions were planned — one under Amberst and Admiral Bos- 
 cawan against Louisburg — a second under Abercrombie 
 against Ticonderoga, and tbe tbird under Forbes to effect 
 tbe conquest of tbe Obio valley. To insure tbe cbeerful 
 cooperation of tbe colonists, Pitt wrote tbem a circular let- 
 ter, calculated to inspire all witb new spirit. Arms, ammu- 
 nition, tents and provisions would tbereafter be supplied bj 
 tbe king, wbile tbe provincial officers were to bold equal 
 rank witb tbose of tbe regular array. Tbe Virginia assem- 
 bly immediately met and voted to increase tbe army to two 
 tbousand men. Tbese, divided into two regiments, and 
 acting in concert witb bis majesty's troops, were designated 
 to march against Fort Du Quesne. 
 
 It was about this time, wbile on bis way to Williams- 
 burg, tbat Washington was first made acquainted witb tbe 
 young widow wbo was destined to become bis wife. Tbe 
 young colonel, in military undress, mounted on a splendid 
 cbarger and attended by a single tall body servant, botb 
 tbe gift of tbe dying Braddock as be fled from tbe fatal 
 field of Monongabela, bad just crossed Williams's Ferry, 
 over tbe Pamunkey, a brancb of York river, wben be was 
 met by Mr. Cbamberlayne, a Virginia gentleman of tbe old 
 school, wbo invited bim to bis bouse. Washington excused 
 himself, on tbe ground of urgent business witb tbe gover- 
 nor. But tbe hospitable planter would take no denial, and 
 at last succeeded in turning tbe scale by promising to intro- 
 duce him to a young and beautiful widow. Tbe colonel 
 finally consented to stop and dine — nothing more. A short 
 delay could be made up by bard riding and pressing further 
 into tbe night. In dismounting be gave his horse into tbe 
 charge of bis servant Bishop, with explicit instructions to. 
 have bim at the door at a certain hour. Giving his arm to 
 his guest, tbe hospitable planter entered the bouse and 
 
84 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 
 
 introduced him to his fomilj. The young Virginia colonel 
 immediately drew every eye upon him, for a fine command- 
 nig appearance heightened rather than lessened the romance 
 that gathered around his chivalrous and adventurous life. 
 The young widow was handsome, fascinating, and possessed 
 of a large fortune, and was moreover the widow of a colo- 
 nel. Colonel Washington was also rich, of high family 
 connections, and, above all, possessed that which ever 
 attracts woman, a valiant, heroic heart, that would beat as 
 calmly amid whistling bullets and death and carnage as in 
 its peaceful slumbers. The lady was only three months 
 vountrer than he, and from the first did not disguise her 
 admiration of the youthful hero. On the other hand, her 
 society was so agreeable to Washington, that for the first 
 time in his life he forgot his own appointment. Ilis servant 
 Bishoj"), punctual to his orders, had the two horses saddled 
 and bridled, standing at the gate at the time appointed. 
 Contrary to all military rules, and all former experience, 
 his master did not make his appearance. Lingering under 
 the sweet influence of the beautiful 3'oung widow, the time 
 slipped unconsciously away. At length, as the sun stooped 
 behind the western wilderness, the planter stepped forward 
 and declared that it was contrary to the rules of his estate 
 to allow a guest to leave the house after sundown. AVash- 
 ington laughingly acknowledged that he felt bound to sub- 
 mit to such wholesome regulations, and was soon forgetful 
 of every thing but the fascinating woman beside him. 
 Other dreams than those of military glory visited his pil- 
 low that night, and other hopes impelled him forward, as 
 next morning he continued his journey to Williamsburg. 
 
 On his return he stopped again at the "White House" 
 of his friend, and surrendered at discretion to the bloom- 
 ing widow. 
 
 The charms of his betrothed, however, could not detain 
 him from the duties of his command, and he soon was 
 
LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 85 
 
 giving his whole soul to the expedition before him. In 
 this camjDaign he determined, if possible, to have a chap- 
 lain. All his solicitations on this jioint had thus far been 
 disregarded, and he wrote to the president of the council 
 m^ging the appointment of one, saying, " Common decency, 
 sir, in a camp calls for the services of a divine, which ought 
 not to be dispensed with, although there should be those 
 so uncharitable as to think us void of religion, and inca- 
 pable of good instructions." 
 
 The ardor, however, with which he commenced prepara- 
 tions was soon chilled by the absurd determination of Forbes 
 to cut a new road to Fort Du Quesne from Pennsylvania, 
 instead of using the old one made by Braddock. It was 
 now the latter part of summer, and he knew that by 
 this arrangement the winter would find the army shut up 
 midway in the wilderness. Independent of the necessity 
 of dispatch and the importance of saving labor, Braddock's 
 route was known to be the best through the mountains, 
 even though a new road were required. Washington ex- 
 hausted argument and persuasion to dissuade Forbes and 
 his second in command. Colonel Bouquet, from this insane 
 purpose. He saw another Braddock's defeat in it, and was 
 distressed beyond measure at the prospect before the army. 
 Said he, if it is undertaken, " all is lost ; our enterprise will 
 be ruined, and we shall be stopped at the Laurel Hill this 
 winter — not to gather laurels, except of the kind that covers 
 the mountains." 
 
 The first of autumn found Washington still at the camp 
 near Fort Cumberland, filled with despondenc}^ and fore- 
 bodings at the fatal determination of his commander. Sick- 
 ness had entered the army, and the troops, weary and 
 dispirited by their long inactivity, turned with disgust from 
 the prospect before them. " That appearance of glory," 
 said Washington, " which we had once in view, that hope, 
 that laudable ambition of serving our country and meriting 
 
86 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. . 
 
 its .applause, are now no more. ... In a word, all is lost 
 if tlio ways of men in power, like certain ways of Provi- 
 dence, are not inscrutable. . . . The conduct of our leaders, 
 if not actuated by superior orders, is tempered with some- 
 thing I do not care to give a name to. Nothing now but a 
 miracle can bring this campaign to a happy issue." 
 
 The general, however, remained immovable on the route 
 to be taken, but in all other things paid great deference to 
 Washington. The latter, with a thousand men, was sent in 
 advance of the main army, to cut the road for a hundred 
 miles through the wilderness. Guided by blazed trees, he 
 began his long and tedious march. Streams had to be 
 bridged, ravines filled up, and redoubts erected. Working 
 from daylight till dark to gain six or seven mil^s, the troops 
 saw winter fast approaching, with the almost certain pros- 
 pect of passing it in the mountains. Washington, how- 
 ever, infused his own spirit into the officers and men, and 
 continued steadily to pierce the wilderness. Filled with 
 memories of the past that clustered around a region with 
 which he had been familiar since boyhood — recalling to 
 mind his first defeat at Fort Necessity, and the fearful rout 
 at Monongahela, he hoped to wipe out the disgrace of both 
 in victory. Major Grant, with eight hundred Highlanders 
 and a company of Virginians, had been sent forward by 
 Bouquet to take Fort Du Quesne, which, he had been told 
 was feebly garrisoned. Advancing boldly on the place, he 
 was assailed by the French with such fury that the High- 
 landers broke and fled, leaving the gallant Virginia company 
 to save the army from utter destruction. The news meet- 
 ing Washington in the wilderness did not dampen his 
 courage, but increased it, as success would now be a double 
 triumph. 
 
 General Forbes, borne on a litter, with the sands of life 
 ebbing slowly away, writing to have a " chimne}^ built " 
 for his use at every camp, followed slowly after, with the 
 
LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 87 
 
 main army. He did not reach Loyal Hanna till the 5th of 
 November [1758]. He had made fifty miles in that time, 
 or an average of one mile a day. Fifty miles more of 
 wilderness lay between the army and Fort Du Quesne. 
 What Washington had predicted had now come to pass. 
 The mountain- tops were covered with snow — the frosts of 
 winter had come on, and the soldiers, unaccustomed to such 
 hardships, and scantily clothed, sunk into despondency. It 
 was therefore resolved, in a council of war, to proceed no^ 
 farther that season. With six thousand men under his 
 command, and the whole summer before him, Forbes had 
 finally succeeded in getting his army into the heart of the 
 Alleghanies. Had he followed Washington's advice, he 
 would at this time have been comfortably quartered in Fort 
 Du Quesne, his object accomplished and his troubles over. 
 In contrast to this was a long sojourn in that desolate 
 forest, a miserable invalid, or a disgraceful retreat to the 
 settlements. 
 
 Whilst things were in this gloomy state, three French 
 prisoners were brought into camp, who reported the fort 
 wholly unable to make any resistance. This unexpected, 
 accidental piece of good fortune alone saved the army from 
 humiliation. It was immediately resolved to push forward. 
 The tents and heavy baggage were left behind, and with a 
 light train of artillery the army again took up its line of 
 march. Washington in advance, cutting the road before 
 him, led on the column. Elate with joy at the favorable 
 turn events had taken, he spoke cheering words to ofiicers 
 and men, and once more the blast of the bugle and roll of 
 the drum were answered with acclamations. " All the 
 men," he wrote back, '' are in fine spirits and anxious to go 
 on." He strained every nerve to hasten his progress ; but 
 to make a road for the main army toiling in the rear, was 
 slow work, and it took him thirteen days to reach Fort Du 
 Quesne. As he approached the place, the garrison, only 
 
88 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 
 
 five hundred in number, set fire at night to the buildings, 
 and, as the flames hghted up the surrounding gloom, leaped 
 into their boats and disappeared down the river. On the 
 very spot where the heroic stripling had stood when on his 
 way as commissioner to the French, and which he had 
 selected as an excellent locality for a fort, he now again 
 stood, and gazed with kindling eye on the smoulderhig 
 ruins before him. Du Quesne, so long the goal of his 
 efforts, was at last won. The royal flag was planted amid 
 the ruins, and, as it swayed to the breeze, they named the 
 place Pittsburg, in honor of Pitt, under whose direction the 
 expedition had been undertaken — a noble monument to the 
 great statesman ; and, " long as the Monongahela and the 
 Allegliany sludl flow to form the Ohio, long as the English 
 tongue shall be the language of freedom in the boundless 
 valley which their waters traverse, his name shall stand 
 inscribed on the Gateway of the West." 
 
 A small garrison was left in. the fort, and the army began 
 its retrograde march. 
 
 No further interference from the French was at present 
 to be feared, Avhile the Indians, deserted by their allies, no 
 longer threatened the settlements. The state was at peace, 
 and Washington, only twenty-six years of age, laden with 
 honors, resigned his command, and repaired to Mount Ver- 
 non [December]. 
 
 While on the last campaign he had been elected member 
 of the House of Burgesses from Frederic county. There 
 were four other candidates in the field, and his friends wrote 
 him that it was very important he should be on the spot. 
 This his duties prevented ; yet, notwithstanding the advan- 
 tage which his absence gave his competitors, he beat them 
 all. The ill-will that had been engendered against hijn in 
 some quarters, on account of the stern sM'ay he had often 
 been compellcil to exercise over the militia, and even the 
 inhabitants themselves, could not oflset the deep and wide 
 
PLANTING or THE R Y A L F L A G ON THE RUINS OF FORT D U Q U E S N E . 
 
LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 91 
 
 spread admiration of his conduct and character. Colonel 
 Wood stood proxy for him in his victory, and was carried 
 round the town amid the deafening acclamations of the 
 people, as " Huzza for Colonel Washington" rent the air. 
 The latter, however, had a nice little bill to pay, which his 
 friends, according to custom, had run up for him. One 
 hogshead and one barrel of punch, thirty-five gallons of 
 wine, forty-three gallons of strong beer, any quantity of 
 cider, wound up with a dinner to his friends, costing in all 
 thirty-nine pounds and six shillings, or nearly two hundred 
 dollars, was the price paid for his election. 
 
 Having now returned to private life, he consummated his 
 engagement with Mrs. Custis, and a wedding was given 
 [January 6th, 1759,] on a scale commensurate with the 
 wealth and standing of the parties, and in keeping with the 
 good old customs of the time. From far and near came the 
 laced coats and powdered hair and long cues, till the hos- 
 IDitable mansion overflowed with the wealth and beauty and 
 gaiety of the colony. And a noble couple they were — the 
 young colonel six feet three inches in height, towering 
 above all around, and the beautiful bride, radiant with hap- 
 piness. The rafters of the huge mansion rung that night 
 tvith mirth and gaiety. The bride brought as a dowry 
 thirty thousand pounds sterling, besides one-third of large 
 landed estates. She had two children ; a son, six years old, 
 and a daughter, four. To the former belonged one-third ot 
 the estates left by his father, while the latter had the re- 
 maining third, together with ten thousand pounds sterling. 
 This swelled Washington's fortune to an enormous amount 
 for those days. 
 
 He did not take his bride immediately to Mount Vernon, 
 but repaired to Wilhamsburg, and took his seat as member 
 of the assembly. During the session the speaker was di- 
 rected, by a vote of the House, " to return thanks on behalf 
 of the colony to Colonel Washington, for the distinguished 
 
92 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 
 
 military services he had rendered the country." This the 
 eloquent speaker did in a manner to suit himself, and poured 
 forth a strain of eulogium at once unexpected and embar- 
 rassing. Washington, taken wholly by surprise, rose to re- 
 ply, but could not stammer forth a single word. Out of this 
 painfid dilemma the witty speaker helped him as generously 
 as he had helped him into it. " Sit down, Mr. Washing- 
 ton," said he, " your modesty equals your valor, and that 
 surpasses the power of any language that I possess." No- 
 thing could be more elegant and skillful than this double 
 stroke, which at once relieved Washington, while it en- 
 hanced the compliment. 
 
 In the spring Washington retired to Mount Vernon, and 
 devoted himself- to agricultural pursuits. Covered with 
 honor from five years' faithful and arduous service, united 
 to a noble and beautiful woman, surrounded with affluence, 
 and beloved by all, life at this time spread out attractively 
 before him, and its waters promised to bear him smoothly 
 on to the end of his course. 
 
 He adorned his library with the busts of distinguished 
 military chieftains of former ages, and, with true Virginia 
 hospitality, kept open house for his friends. He was inte- 
 rested in every improvement in agriculture — entered largely 
 into the cultivation of tobacco, which he shipped directly 
 from his estates to England. He M'as very fond of hunting, 
 and kept a fine pack of hounds, not only for his own amuse- 
 ment, but that of his friends. He was a splendid rider, 
 and when following the hounds in full cry, taking the daring 
 leap as he flew over the fields, he was the admiration of all. 
 ^Two or three times a week, with horse and dogs, he was 
 out — his nature finding relief in the excitement and clamor 
 of the chase. 
 
 Duck shooting was another favorite pastime, and he spent 
 hours in his boat, stealing stealthily on the coveys of birds, 
 or watching their flight from his place of concealment. 
 
LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 93 
 
 His love of this sport once brought him in collision with a 
 bold, reckless fellow, who lived on the opposite side of the 
 Potomac, but would often cross and shoot near Mount Ver- 
 non. Washington had repeatedly forbade his doing so, but 
 without effect. In some secluded creek or nook the poacher 
 would hide away, and shoot at leisure. One day the 
 former hearing a shot, sprang on his horse and galloped 
 toward the spot whence the sound came. The marauder, 
 seeing him approach, ran for his skiff, and had just time to 
 push off from shore and leap in as Washington galloped up. 
 The latter instantly rode in and seized the boat. The reck- 
 less fellow within immediately leveled his gun at Washing- 
 ton's breast, swearing that he would shoot him dead if he 
 did not let him go. But the southern blood of the excited 
 young planter was up, and paying no attention to his 
 threats, he drew the desperado fiercely ashore. He then 
 disarmed and dragged him out upon the bank, and gave 
 him a thorough cowhiding, as merely a foretaste of what 
 awaited him if he continued his depredations. The cure 
 was effectual, and the poacher sought other fields in which 
 to prosecute his calling. There was something about Wash- 
 ington's demeanor and look, when excited, that would make 
 a bold man hesitate to assail him. 
 
 While he was thus passing the first year of married life 
 in the quiet routine of a planter's occupations, the doom of 
 the French empire on this continent was fixed. Although 
 at the very time the expedition to Fort Du Quesne was 
 drawing to a successful close, Abercrombie had been beaten 
 by Montcalm, and with the exception of the capture of 
 Louisburg, defeat had attended the English arms all along 
 the Canadian frontier, the struggle still went on, and all 
 eyes were turned northward, where the armies of the two 
 greatest nations on the globe strove for the possession of 
 unoccupied solitudes, and waters undisturbed by commerce. 
 
 At length a long, loud shout came rolling from the 
 
94 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 
 
 Heights of Abraham, announcing that the struggle was 
 over. The deaths of the two heroes, Montcalm and 
 Wolfe, were worthy of the great event they helped to 
 bring about. 
 
 "Washington retained his seat in the House of Burgesses 
 fifteen years, or until the Revolution. His life during this 
 period differed very little from that of most Virginia plant- 
 ers around him. As a member of the assembly he 'spol^e 
 but little. His motto was not to speak except on import- 
 ant subjects, or on those which directly concerned his 
 constituents, and then calmly, and wholly to the point 
 of fact. 
 
 Notwithstanding the extensive business on his hands, and 
 the many calls upon his time, he was his own book-keoj^er. 
 Exact in every thing, he required those with whom he 
 dealt to be the same. He was compelled to import all his 
 wardrobe, farming utensils, harness, etc., from England. 
 Twice a year he made out a list of the things he wanted 
 and sent it to his correspondent in London. An order on 
 his tailor illustrates the ideas of dress in those times. In 
 giving the description of a coat he had requested to be 
 made, he said he did not wish a rich garment, but a plain 
 one, " luith gold or silver buttons." 
 
 There is another little anecdote showing how he always 
 adhered to facts. The church in the parish of which he Avas 
 vestryman, having become dilapidated, it was resolved to pull 
 it down and build a new one. But a difference of opinion 
 arose respecting the spot where it should be placed, the pre- 
 sent site not being central. Washington, taking a practical 
 view of the matter, wished it located where it would be most 
 convenient to the parishioners. George Mason, his friend 
 and neighbor, on the other hand, was anxious to retain the 
 old consecrated spot, hallowed by so many sweet and sacred 
 associations. After several meetings had been held without 
 coming to a decision, a final decisive one was appointed. 
 
LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 95 
 
 When "the j^eople assembled, Mason, the leader of the party 
 wishing to retain the old site, arose and made a long and 
 eloquent harangue, pouring out rhapsodies over the spot 
 made sacred by so many joys and tears — by the worship 
 there rendered and the dead there buried, till he almost con- 
 vinced his audience that to remove it would be sacrilege. 
 It was evident he had carried the day, for Washington was 
 no orator like Brutus to destroy the effect of this impassioned 
 appeal. But while Mason was studying his eloquent ha- 
 rangue, the former, like an old surveyor as he was, had been 
 cautiously making a map of the whole parish, with all its 
 dwellings, showing the precise relation which the old and 
 new site held to them. Coolly drawing this from his jDOcket, 
 at the close of Mason's speech, and unrolling it before the 
 people, he bade them look at the matter exactly as it stood, 
 and told them it was for them to determine whether they 
 would be carried away by an impulse, or act like men of 
 sense and reason. This map acted as a condenser to all of 
 Mason's vapor — he was deserted in the very moment of 
 victory, and retired discomfited from the field. 
 
 This clear, practical view and stubborn adherence to fact, 
 was one of the most striking characteristics of Napoleon, 
 and we are reminded of a similar anecdote of him. On his 
 way to Egypt, a group of savans, that accompanied the 
 army, discussed one starry night on the deck of the ship 
 the existence of a God. It was finally proved to a demon- 
 stration that there was none. The young Napoleon heard 
 them through, and then turning his eye upward toward the 
 bespangled sky, he waved his hand saying, " All very well, 
 gentlemen, but who made all these ?" 
 
 Peace had returned to the country, and to all human 
 appearance the future history of Washington was to be that 
 of a Virginia farmer. But he carried the same character in 
 his social relations that he had borne in public life. The 
 soul of honor and the incarnation of justice, he became the 
 
 6 
 
96 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 
 
 depository of sacred trusts, and the umpire between parties 
 throughout the entire region. To a friend he wrote that if 
 his son wished to pass through college, he could draw on 
 him for one hundred and twenty-five dollars a year 
 throughout his course. Deeds of kindness and acts of 
 benevolence came in between his more important business 
 matters, binding his whole life together with golden links 
 Among other things in which he became deeply interested 
 was the payment of the soldiers and ollicers under his com- 
 mand. He was one of the commissioners to close up for the 
 colony its military account, and pushed forward the matter 
 so energetically, that he soon had the satisfaction of seeing 
 every claim settled ; and where the original holder had 
 died, arranged it so that the heirs Avould obtain the land. 
 He did not overlook even Vonbraam, the interpreter who 
 had deceived him so grossly at the Great Meadows, and then 
 fled to England. The man had never been condemned 
 legall}^ and he therefore considered him entitled to his 
 share. 
 
 In October, 1770, he once more passed over the route 
 where had transpired the most memorable events of his 
 life. Taking with him his old friend Dr. Craik, who had 
 been with him from the commencement of his military 
 career, he set out on horseback for the Ohio, to see the 
 •western lands for himself, in anticipation of having them 
 survejxd and laid off in tracts for the army. As they 
 passed through the wilderness, almost every step recalled 
 8ome scene of interest. They paused by the grave of 
 Braddock, and mused together on the Great Meadows, 
 where Washington suffered his first defeat. To him it was 
 like living his life over again. 
 
 In twelve days he reached Pittsburg. Remaining here 
 three days, dining with the officers of the garrison, and 
 holding a council with some chiefs of the Six Nations, he 
 ■on the 20th, witii a lew comjianions, embarked in a large 
 
LIFE OF WASHINGTON, 97 
 
 canoe down the Ohio. They were now beyond the settle- 
 ments of the whites. An unbroken forest shut in the river, 
 whose bosom, dotted with islands, was disturbed only by 
 the paddle of the red man or the plash of wild fowl. 
 Night coming on they hauled their boat ashore, and kindling 
 a fire on the banks lay down to rest. At daylight they 
 again pushed oft'. The third day it snowed, and along the 
 white banks, and through the colonnade of trees the soli- 
 tary boat shot downward — now dancing over the rifts, and 
 again suddenly brought up on a shoal, threatening to upset 
 all in the stream. Toward evening they saw smoke rising 
 from amid the trees below them, and on turning a bend of 
 the river suddenly came upon an Indian village of twenty 
 cabins. Running the boat ashore, they encamped here for 
 the night, and were entertained hospitably by the natives. 
 Hearing that two traders had been killed a little farther 
 on, they hesitated about proceeding, but at length con- 
 cluded to venture forward, and kept down the river, stop- 
 ping occasionally to allow Washington to examine the lands 
 along the creeks and streams that put into the Ohio. The 
 call of the wild turkey and the scream of the water-fowl 
 were the only sounds that broke the stillness of the soli- 
 tude. They scared the wild deer quenching his noonday 
 thirst with the crack of their rifles, arid roused the beast of 
 prey from his lair, in solitudes hitherto unvisited by the 
 white man. 
 
 On the 28th they came upon the Indian chief Kiashuta, 
 with his hunting-party, by whom they were kindly received, 
 and detained till nine o'clock next morning. Cold autumn 
 rains and snow drenched them by day and chilled them at 
 night, but Washington continued his investigations, now 
 piercing several miles inland, and again accompanying the 
 boat on foot along the bank. At length they reached the 
 Great Kanhawa, the end of their journey. He had now 
 gone two hundred and sixty-five miles from Pittsburg, 
 
98 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 
 
 through a country claimed by the Indians, and where the 
 cabin of the white man had never been reared. Passing 
 up this river to observe the land they proceeded ten miles 
 and encamped. Next morning they pushed on four miles 
 fiirther, and then encamped to go hunting. The forest 
 soon rung with the report of their pieces, and before night 
 the party had brought in five buffaloes and three deer. 
 The next day they set out on their return. Strange wild 
 fowl, with a cry he had never heard before, huge trees, 
 with trunks forty-five feet in circumference, together with 
 every picturesque object of nature, arrested Washington's 
 attention, as well as the rich bottoms which were destined 
 soon to be crowded with an enterprising people. 
 
 He was absent nine weeks in all, not reaching Mount 
 Vernon till the first of December. This was his fifth trip 
 to the Ohio, and served to keep up his familiarity with 
 the fiitigues of a camp life that he was fast forgetting in the 
 luxuries of home. All this time he was not an indifierent 
 spectator of the strife between the colonies and the mother 
 country respecting their mutual rights, but sympathized 
 deeply with the former. 
 
 How strangely Providence shaped the life of this man, 
 to fit him for the high destiny that awaited him. Five 
 years of better training could not have been devised. Stark 
 and Putnam and others, had an experience fitting them 
 only for partisan warfare, while such generals as Artemus 
 Ward were not inured to the hardships and trials through 
 which Washington had triumphantly passed. Besides, as 
 commander-in-chief of the Virginia forces, he was obliged 
 to bear with undisciplined militia and a contradictory and 
 officious governor — left to carry on a campaign without 
 supplies — keep together half-starved and half-clothed 
 troops — compelled to be patient under abuse and neglect — 
 to have courage when others desponded, and win universal 
 confidence by his integrity and justice. In short he had 
 
LIFE OP WASHINaTON. 99 
 
 been tried beforehand in every difficulty and temptation 
 that was to beset or befall him as the leader of a free peo- 
 ple. His five years as colonel was an epitome of the seven 
 years he spent at the head of the national army. God 
 had proved him, and said clearly by his providence, " Thou 
 h^t been faithful over a few things; I will make thee 
 ruler over many things." 
 
100 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 
 
 . CHAPTER IV. 
 
 Character of the Colonists — First Attempt to Tax the Provinces — Its Reception by 
 the People — Taxation discussed in the British Parliament — Speech of Col. 
 Barre — Attitude of Virginia — Speech of Patrick Henry — South Carolina and 
 Gadsden — Attacks on Stamp-Master J. IngersoU — First Congress at New York — • 
 The Stamp Act Repealed— Excitenocnt and Joy of the Colonists — Washington's 
 Views of it — Duties on Tea, Paper, etc. — Tea thrown overboard in Boston Har- 
 bor — Port Bill — Virginia Assembly and conduct of Washington — Fast Day — 
 Fairfax Resolutions — Washington's Letter to Mr. Brj-an Fairfax — He is elected 
 a Delegate to the First General Congress — Action of Congress — Prayer by 
 Duche — Washington's standing in Congress — Lexington and Concord — Excite- 
 ment of the People — Stockbridge — The Second Congress — Washington Chair- 
 man of every Committee — Appointed Commander-in-Chief — Battle of Bunker 
 Hill — Journey of Washington to Cambridge — Takes command of the Army — 
 Its character — Appearance of the Encampment — Washington's first order — 
 Organization of the Army — Difficulties that beset him — Forced to act contrary 
 to his wishes. 
 
 During the long interval that Washmgton passed on his 
 plantation engaged in the quiet routine of his agricultural 
 duties and pleasures, the colonies were shaken from limit 
 to limit with the fierce discussion of the doctrine of civil 
 rights. 
 
 In New England, the inhabitants, coming directly from 
 the old Puritan stock, were naturally jealous of those rights 
 for which they had abandoned their native land, while both 
 they and the other colonists could not but draw in freedom 
 with every breath in the untrammeled life of the wilder- 
 ness. Besides, cultivators of the soil are always character- 
 ized by independence. The fluctuations of trade, the 
 stoppage of commerce, and the derangement of currency 
 may prevent their becoming rich, but these cannot prevent 
 the earth from yielding her fruits, so that the disasters of 
 war do not reach to the means of livelihood, and hence do 
 not outweigh all other considerations. Added to all this, a 
 boundless wilderness thronged with savages would naturally 
 attract to it only the more hardy, enterprismg, self-reliant. 
 
LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 101 
 
 and fearless class of men, restless under restraint and prompt 
 and resolute in the assertion of their rights. 
 
 As the colonies increased in strength and wealth England 
 judiciously avoided intermeddling with their internal regu- 
 lations, and the Assemblies of the different provinces were 
 really more independent than the Parliament of England. 
 Such a stock, so educated by external circumstances, and 
 strengthened in their views by long continued concessions 
 on the part of the mother country, would naturally rebel 
 against the first effort to reduce them to bondage. England, 
 however, was not aware to what dej)th the sentiment of 
 liberty had struck, nor of the sternness and courage with 
 which the colonists would resist the first encroachment on 
 their rights. Regarding the French war as rather the 
 quarrel of the colonies than her own, she resolved tliej'" 
 should help sustain the government which had j)i'otected 
 them not only from the rapacity of the French, but from 
 the cruelties of the savages. But at the first suggestion of 
 the British ministry that this should be done by taxation, 
 the colonists were thrown into a high state of excitement, 
 and urgent remonstrances were made to prevent a step so 
 fatal to their liberties. 
 
 [1763.] The proposition to lay a stamp- tax was first 
 made under Egremont's administration, but a change in the 
 cabinet prevented it from being immediately carried out. 
 An excise, land-tax, and all other methods for raising a 
 revenue seemed impracticable. But first came the Naviga- 
 tion Act, forbidding America to trade with foreign nations 
 and compelling her to buy only of England. All other 
 trade was declared contraband, and custom-house officers 
 were sent over, and national vessels ordered to cruise along 
 our coasts to make seizure of all goods that had not come 
 through English ports. This aroused a storm of indigna- 
 tion, and the colonists, finding no other mode of revenge, 
 began to do without English manufactures. The loom and 
 
102 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 
 
 the spiiming-wlieel were soon liecard in every part of the 
 land. Boston took the lead, the inhabitants refusing even 
 to wear gloves at funerals. Other towns followed the 
 example, and English manufactures instead of finding a 
 freer market than before met a more stringent one. This, 
 with other burdens imposed on commerce, agitated deeply 
 the public mind. But vexatious and unjust as this policy 
 was, the colonists felt that Parliament had a right to regu- 
 late commerce, and no serious resistance was made ; but 
 when the next spring a resolution passed the House of 
 Commons [March 10th 17G4] to lay a stamp-tax, the indig- 
 nation broke over all bounds. AYhat, taxation without 
 representation 1 this was not only tyranny to the colonists 
 but treason to the British constitution. Franklin, who was 
 in London, wrote home to Thompson, " The sun of liberty 
 is set, the Americans must light the lamp of industry and 
 economy." "Be assured," said Thompson in reply, "we 
 shall light torches of another sort." 
 
 The resolution not being acted on this year the inhabi- 
 tants had time to consider it. The universal rage however 
 with which it was received, breaking down old rivalries, 
 healing bitter feuds, and harmonizing elements hitherto at 
 war, showed clearly what the inevitable result would be of 
 pressing the measure upon them. It was like the " Truce 
 of God," which banded in brotherly love kings and princes 
 who had long been at war, and reconciled ancient foes to 
 hurl them like a single man against the infidel. This 
 odious tax Avas the topic of common conversation, clubs 
 were formed to discuss it, and the assemblies of the different 
 states dispatched agents to England with their firm remon- 
 strances against it. 
 
 Notwithstanding all these indications of an Approaching 
 storm, the English government fully believed that tlie colo- 
 nies were too feeble and timid to offer any effectual resistance, 
 and the next year [March 8th, 1765] the stamp-tax became 
 
CHAIUIN-G COLONKI, W o O i. AS P K O X Y .OR W A S .1 I ^- O T .V 
 
LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 105 
 
 a law. Its discussion in the House of Commons brought 
 the administration and its enemies into fierce and terrible 
 collision. During it, Colonel Barre, who had stood side by 
 side with General Wolf on the Plains of Abraham, delivered 
 that short, unpremeditated and thrilling speech, in reply to 
 Charles Townsend's interrogation, "And will these Ameri- 
 can children, planted by our care, nourished up by our 
 indulgences to a degree of strength and opulence, and pro- 
 tected by our arms, grudge to contribute their mite to 
 relieve us from the heavy burden under which we lie ?" 
 Springing to his feet, the fiery soldier replied, " They 
 planted by your care ! No, your oppressions planted them in 
 
 America They nourished hy your indulgence ! They 
 
 grew by your neglect of them. As soon as you began to 
 care about them, that care was exercised in sending persons 
 to rule them in one department and another, who were per- 
 haps the deputies of deputies to some members of the 
 House, sent to spy out their liberties, to misrepresent their 
 actions, and to prey upon them, whose behavior on many 
 occasions has caused the blood of these sons of liberty to 
 
 recoil within them They protected hy your arms! 
 
 They have nobly taken up arms in your defense, have 
 exerted a valor amidst their constant and laborious industry, 
 for the defense of a country whose frontier was drenched in 
 blood, while its interior parts yielded all its little earnings 
 to your emolument." 
 
 With a warning to the government to desist from its 
 rash and perilous course, he sat down. A breathless 
 silence followed this sudden and impassioned address, 
 bursting as it did from a soul on fire. J. Ingersoll, of Con- 
 necticut, sat in the gallery and listened to it. By the next 
 packet he dispatched it to the colonies. "Sons of Liberty!" 
 was the baptismal name pronounced in the British Parlia- 
 ment. " Sons of Liberty" echoed the men of Boston, and 
 organized into a band under that name. A large tree stood 
 
106 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 
 
 on the corner of Washington and Essex streets, which they 
 christened " Liberty Tree,''^ and beneath its branches assem 
 bled from time to time to deliberate on the momentous 
 question of taxation. 
 
 Southward swept the flame of rebellion. Virginia, whose 
 House of Burgesses had ever been distinguished for stubborn 
 resistance to every assumption of authority by the governor, 
 " rang the alarum bell," and sent her thriUing accents of 
 defiance on. The assembly was in session when the news 
 arrived, and though the denunciations were loud and deep, 
 no one seemed inclined to take the lead in the House till 
 Patrick Henry, who had been a member but a few days, 
 snatching a fly-leaf from old Coke upon Lyttleton, wrote 
 five daring resolutions upon it, and rising read them to the 
 utter astonishment of all. He declared that the colonies 
 alone had power to levy taxes, and defended his resolutions 
 with an eloquence and boldness that electrified the House. 
 Kindling on the glorious theme of Human Liberty, he 
 poured forth with impassioned fervor and vehement energy 
 those noble sentiments which soon found an echo in every 
 part of the land. Forgetting for a moment every thing but 
 the great subject which engrossed his soul, he suddenly 
 exclaimed, " Coesar had his Brutus — Charles the First his 
 Cromwell, and George the Third — " "Treason!" shouted 
 the defaulting Speaker Robinson. "Treason! Treason!" 
 rang through the House. Pausing till the echo of the 
 damning accusation had died away, he turned his flashing 
 eye full on the speaker and shouted, " maj/ profit by their 
 example! If this he treason, make the most of it!" A fierce 
 and exciting debate followed, but it was only like the occa- 
 sional wind gusts heard in the pauses of the thunder. 
 Henry's eloquence rolled over and drowned every thing 
 else. His resolutions were carried. 
 
 Washington sat there a witness of the scene, and gazed, 
 
LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 107 
 
 one may well imagine with what feelings, on the inspired 
 countenance of the yomig and fearless orator. 
 
 The flame spread on every side. British ministers were 
 hung in effigy on Liberty Tree. Associations were formed 
 to reject all British manufactures. Peoi^le in Philadelphia 
 refused to eat mutton, that they might have more wool for 
 domestic use. Ladies of the first rank dressed in home- 
 spun. The stern Puritan clergy cried " To your tents, oh 
 Israel !" When the churchmen preached loyalty to the 
 Lord's anointed, " The People,''' retorted William Livings- 
 ton, "are the Lord's anointed." The "Stamp Act" was 
 hawked about the streets of New York, under the title of 
 " Folly of England and Ruin of America." 
 
 South Carolina heard the bugle-blast of Virginia and 
 Massachusetts, and snatching up the trumpet, through her 
 Gadsden, blew a call so clear, loud and glorious, that the 
 heart of the nation leaped up at the sound. With the 
 lofty, fearless and eloquent Gadsden at the South, tlie fiery 
 patriot Patrick Henry in Virginia, and the sanest madman 
 that ever became an Oracle of the Gods, Otis of Boston, at 
 the North, there was no danger of lack of energy or 
 courage. " Death to the man who offers a piece of stamped 
 'paper to sell!''' shouted the people of Boston. Bonfires, 
 harangues, threats, riots and violence, filled the officers of 
 government with alarm. Hutchinson of Connecticut fled 
 to his castle. The stamp-officer of Bhode Island, trembling 
 for his life, resigned at the clamors of the mob. The house 
 of the stamp-master of Annapolis was leveled to the ground 
 by the infuriated multitude. Ingersoll, stamp-master of 
 Connecticut, fled in terror from New Haven with the gover- 
 nor. In his flight he met first two, then five, and a little 
 after thirty, and finally five hundred men on horseback, 
 armed with clubs cut from the forest and stripped of their 
 bark. Three bugles heralded their approach, and o])ening 
 to the right and left they received into their midst the 
 
108 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 
 
 trembling stamp-officer. Halting in the main street of 
 Wethcrsfield, they bade him resign. Ingersoll, having 
 retired to a house, hesitated and delayed. The j3eople grew 
 more and more indignant, and at length their swelling shout 
 for vengeance so alarmed him that he obeyed, saying, 
 "After all, it is not worth dying for." 
 
 *' Swear to the writing," cried the mob. Ingersoll 
 refused. " Then shout for Liberty and Property three 
 times," they cried. " Liberty and Property !" shouted the 
 crest-fallen stamp-master. Then three loud huzzas rent the 
 air. A thousand men had now assembled, each Avith his 
 white cudgel, and gathering round Ingersoll, escorted him 
 with the sound of bugles to Hartford, and there, in the pre- 
 sence of the legislature, made him read his resignation. 
 Xu his journey thither he rode a white horse, and some one 
 asking him what he thought of the strange cavalcade ac- 
 companying him, he replied that he now had a clearer 
 idea, than ever before, of that passage in the Revelations 
 which describes Death on the pale horse and hell follow im^ him. 
 Thus officer after officer was compelled to resign, until but 
 one, Hughes, the Quaker of Philadelphia, remained. Toss- 
 ing on his bed of sickness, he at last heard the muffied 
 drums beating their mournful throbs, and the deep toll of 
 the bell of the State House sending its dull echoes over the 
 city, followed by the still more alarming sound, the muffled 
 tread of excited men on their march to his dwelling, and 
 trembling for his life, reluctantly yielded and promised to 
 resign. 
 
 In the midst of this excitement, the First Congress of the 
 colonies met at New York [Oct. 7th, 1765,] and laid the 
 foundation of their liberty. The excitement was not con- 
 fined to this country, ))ut spread to England, and when in 
 the following winter Parliament asseml)led, the question of 
 the Colonies absorbed all others. A noble attempt was 
 made to repeal the Stamp Act, and during the discussioD 
 
LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 109 
 
 Pitt uttered those memorable words which so startled the 
 House of Commons, and thrilled every heart on this conti- 
 nent — " I rejoice that America has resisted!" 
 
 The Stamp Act was reaffirmed. It however again came 
 up, on a motion to repeal it, and Franklin was summoned 
 to the bar of the House, to give information respecting the 
 state of the colonies, and of their ability and willingness to 
 pay the stamp-duty. After a long examination on various 
 points, Grenville asked him if he thought the people would 
 pay the stamp duty if modified. " No, never, ''^ he rej^lied — 
 " they will never submit to it." 
 
 When the final vote on the repeal was to be taken, the 
 lobbies were crowded with spectators, waiting with breath- 
 less interest to hear the decision. At length when, toward 
 morning, the resolution was carried, loud shouts made the 
 roof of St. Stephen's ring. Around Conway, who had 
 fought nobly for the principles of right from first to last, 
 the multitude gathered with tears of gratitude, while they 
 opened right and left to let the chair of the crippled Pitt 
 pass, and reverently uncovered their heads, many attending 
 him even to his door. 
 
 When the news reached America, the countrj^- was 
 thrown into a delirium of excitement. All winter long 
 there had been meetings of excited men, and a black and 
 threatening cloud seemed settling on the colonies. The 
 repeal of the Stamp Act was like the sudden bursting forth 
 of the sun in the midst of darkness. The bell nearest 
 Liberty Tree in Boston, was set ringing. From the tall 
 steeple drooped countless gay banners, and from every win- 
 dow and house-top flaunted flags and streamers, making the 
 bright May morning look still brighter and promise a fiir 
 more glorious summer than that of fruits and flowers. The 
 prison-doors were thrown open, and every poor debtor was 
 allowed to go forth once more a free man, and mingle in 
 the general joy. In the evening the town was one blaze 
 
110 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 
 
 of fire. Liberty Tree bent under the weight of lanterns and 
 illuminated figures of the ehamj^ions of repeal. Bonfires 
 were kindled, iu'c-works set off, while the town shook to the 
 shouts of the multitude and the roar of cannon. South- 
 ward swept the general exultation, till the land echoed with 
 the clamor of bells and the acclamations of men. 
 
 This joy, however, was soon damped by the reception of 
 the Military Act quartering soldiers in Boston. Besides, the 
 repeal of the Stamp Act was now understood not to be a 
 concession of principle on the part of Great Britain, or even 
 a permanent act of expediency. The imposition, not long 
 after, of duties on tea, paper, glass, and painters' colors, was 
 the same thing under a different form, and aroused the 
 same spirit of resistance with which the Stamp Act had 
 been met. 
 
 The repeal of the Stamp Act was hailed by Washington 
 with delight. He had declared it a " direful attack on the 
 liberties of the colonists." So the imposition of new duties 
 filled him with " indignation." From Boston to Georgia 
 the people were again thoroughly aroused, and catching the 
 notes of preparation which now began to be seriously 
 sounded, he said, " That no man should scru^^le or hesitate 
 to take up arms in defense of so valuable a blessing (as 
 freedom) is clearly my opinion," though it should be the 
 last resort. The associations formed every where to perse- 
 cute English manufacturers and trade, met his approval. 
 Mason drew up an agreement for the House of Burgesses, 
 and Washington presented it, in which every signer pro- 
 mised not to buy or use the interdicted articles. They put 
 their names to it in a body, and Washington ever after 
 when he made out orders for England, forbade his corre- 
 spondent to send any of those included in the agreement. 
 
 Thus the affairs of the colony, with now and then a lull 
 in the excitement, were pushed toward the crisis of open 
 rebellion. England, uuder the pressure, finally took off all 
 
LIFE OF WASHINGTON. Ill 
 
 duties except the one on tea. The colonists then refused 
 to drink tea, and it accumulated in the English warehouses. 
 No man was found bold enough to be its consignee on these 
 shores. The East India Company endeavored to get a 
 cargo into Boston harbor, but the citizens in the garb of 
 Indians threw it overboard. This act of violence was fol- 
 lowed by the famous Port Bill, by which Boston was to be 
 shut up, and Salem used as the port of the colony. To 
 carry out this and reduce the rebellious spirit of the colo- 
 nists, troops were ordered over to be quartered on- the 
 people. 
 
 When the Assembly of Virginia met, one of their first 
 acts was to pass resolutions of sympathy for Boston, and 
 appoint a day of fasting and prayer. Lord Dunmore, the 
 governor, irritated at this act of disloyalty, dissolved the 
 Assembly. The members immediately reassembled, at a 
 tavern, and, among other acts, recommended the call of a 
 general congress, to deliberate on the course to be pursued. 
 They then dispersed with the exception of twenty-five, of 
 whom Washington was one. These remained to keep the 
 fast which had been appointed, Washington inscribed in 
 his diary, " I went to church, a,nd fasted all daJ/V 
 
 He, with the other twenty-four, having in the meantime 
 received a message from the Bostonians requesting the colo- 
 nies to join them in a non-importation act, issued a call for 
 another convention of the delegates. During the interval 
 the separate counties held meetings to determine on the 
 instructions that should be given their representatives in 
 this convention. In Fairfax county Washington was elected 
 chairman of the meetings in which the famous Fairfax 
 resolutions were adopted. Those resolves show the firm 
 determination of Washington to resist the encroachments 
 of the mother country. Mr. Bryan Fairfax having with- 
 drawn from the meetings on account of tlie bold and de- 
 cided ground taken, Washington addressed him a long letter 
 
112 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 
 
 of explanation. After showing the conduct of Parliament 
 toward the colonies, and proving clearly its designs, he 
 asks, "What hope have we then from petitioning, when they 
 tell us that now or never is the time to fix the matter? 
 Shall we after this whine and cry for relief, when we have 
 already tried it in vain ? Or shall we supinely sit and see 
 one province after another fall a sacrifice to despotism ?" 
 These sentences have the ring of the true metal, and seem 
 almost to have been embodied in the Declaration of Inde- 
 pendence. He was opposed to addressing the throne fur- 
 ther. "There is no relief for us (said he) but in their dis- 
 tress/' (referring to the non-importation scheme,) " and I 
 think, at least I hope, there is public virtue enough left 
 among us to deny ourselves every thing but the bare neces- 
 saries of life to accomplish this end." Far-seeing and 
 practical, he no longer puts faith in eloquent appeals and 
 addresses. With the same stubborn adherence to facts 
 which had always characterized him, he says, " Starvation 
 is the remedy !" 
 
 The convention met on the 1st of August, and adopted, 
 with very little change, the Fairfiix resolutions — " No more 
 slaves, British goods, or tea," said they, " shall with our 
 sanction enter the colony." 
 
 In answer to the call for a general congress to meet at 
 Philadelphia on the 5th of September, the convention ap- 
 pointed seven delegates, one of whom was Washington,* 
 
 The first great united step was now to be taken, and 
 every e3'e was turned toward that assembly. Lee and 
 Henry stopped on their way for Washington, and the three 
 rode on together to Philadelphia. Washington, with his 
 stately form and calm, self-possessed mind; Henry with his 
 fervid zeal and boiling courage, and Lee with his rich and 
 flowing language, formed an interesting trio, and grand and 
 
 • The others were Peyton Randolph, Richard Henry Lee, Patrick Henry, Richard 
 Blond, Benjamin Harrison and Edmund Pendleton. 
 
LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 113 
 
 glorious must have been the words spoken us thoy passed 
 through the thriving settlements on whose doom they were 
 about to pronounce. 
 
 Congress met, but as the debates were never published, 
 there is no record left of the part taken in them by Wash- 
 ington. Dickinson drafted a petition to the king and to the 
 people of Quebec ; Jay an appeal to the inhabitants of 
 Great Britain ; Lee a third to the Colonies ; and Congress 
 adjourned to wait the response to all these before taking the 
 final step. The feelings, however, which Washington car- 
 ried into Congress and brought out with him, may be 
 gathered from his reply to a letter written him by Captain 
 Mackenzie, then in Boston. Speaking of the direful issue 
 to which things were tending, he said, *' give me leave to 
 add, as my opinion, that more blood will be spilled on this 
 occasion, if the ministry are determined to push matters to 
 extremity, than history has ever yet furnished instances of 
 in the annals of North America." A prediction worth 
 considering, and which shows that he who uttered it had 
 counted the cost, settled his purpose, and stood prepared to 
 move into that scene of blood and carnage, whether it came 
 sooner or later, a strong defender of the right. 
 
 An incident occurred at the opening of this Congress^ 
 to which after circumstances gave a peculiar significance. 
 It was proposed to call in a clergyman to invoke the 
 aid of the Divine Being, and Mr. Duche was sent for. 
 Among other portions of the exercises, he read a part of 
 the 35th Psalm. A rumor had reached Philadelphia the 
 morning previous, that Boston had been cannonaded by the 
 British, and every heart was filled with anxious forebodings. 
 The members stood during prayers, all except Washington. 
 He alone knelt — thus by mere accident separating himself 
 as it were from the rest, by an act indicating that he more 
 than they all needed to bow in the dust and plead for 
 help from Heaven. As he knelt down — the proudest form 
 
 T 
 
114 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 
 
 there — it seemed as if God had singled him out to be the 
 Joshua of the hosts of Freedom. The house was still as 
 the grave as the earnest accents of the clergyman fell on 
 liis ear. 
 
 " Plead my cause, Lord, with them that strive with me : 
 fght against them that fight against me. Take hold of shield 
 and buckler and stand up for mine help. Draw out also the 
 spear and stop the loay against them that persecute me: say unto 
 my soul I am thy salvation." 
 
 The reading of this Psalm was wholly unpremeditated, it 
 being a part of the regular service of the day. hence it 
 seemed almost like the voice of God speaking directly to 
 them. After it was finished Mr. Duche, overwhelmed with 
 the solemnity of the occasion, broke out to the astonish- 
 ment of all in an extemporaneous prayer, beseeching God 
 to save the land from the evils that overhung it. 
 
 Congress adjourned to wait the effect of their several ap- 
 peals, and Washington returned to his firm. The impres- 
 sion he had made on that assemblage of great men may be 
 gathered from a remark of Patrick Henry. Wlien asked 
 on hie? return whom he thought the greatest man in Con- 
 gress, replied — '* If you speak of eloquence, Mr. Rutledge 
 of South Carolina is unquestionably the greatest orator ; but 
 if you speak of solid information and sound judgment, 
 Colonel Washington is unquestionably the greatest man on 
 that floor." With such a reputation one can imagine what 
 profound silence fell on the House when he rose to speak, 
 and what earnest, respectful attention was given to the 
 opinions he uttered. 
 
 In the meantime independent companies were formed in 
 various parts of Virginia, and Washington was solicited to 
 take command of them as field-officer. He accepted, and 
 meeting them at the various places of rendezvous, reviewed 
 the troops and instructed the officers. 
 
 While affiiirs maintained this semi-tranquil state in Vir- 
 
^VAhlllNCilON b WKDDING. 
 
LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 117 
 
 ginla, events around Boston were crowding to a crisis. 
 Collisions had taken place between the people and military — 
 blood had been shed, and the cry for vengeance gone over 
 the land. The inhabitants passed the soldiers with a scowl 
 and half-muttered curses, and it was equally apparent to 
 General Gage, the British commander, and to Hancock, 
 Adams, Otis, Ward and other patriotic leaders, that every 
 thing was tending to open war. A provincial Congress 
 was formed, an army of minute-men raised, and the sup- 
 plies of the British troops cut off. Gage, alarmed at the 
 aspect of affairs, began to fortify the Neclc, and send off* 
 detachments to seize gunpowder and cannon in the hands of 
 the rebels. On the 18 th of April, Major Pitcairn was de- 
 spatched with six companies to seize some cannon and 
 stores at Concord. In dead silence, by the dim moonlight, 
 Pitcairn, supposing his movements were unknown, passed 
 •quietly out of Boston and pushed on towards Lexington. 
 But news of his advance had preceded him, and towards 
 daylight, as he approached Lexington, his ears were stunned 
 by the loud ringing of bells, the roll of drums, and signal- 
 guns of the Americans. Dimly looming through the gray 
 mist of morning the scarlet uniforms appeared pressing in 
 a compact mass toward the village green, on which a hun- 
 dred militia were drawn up in confusion. Halting in front, 
 the troops cooly loaded their pieces. Pitcairn then galloped 
 forward and exclaimed — " Disperse, you villains — throw 
 down your arms and disperse !" The summons not being 
 immediately obeyed, he shouted " Fire !" and the signal- 
 gun of American independence was fired, and the knell of 
 British empire on this continent sounded. Eight patriots, 
 the first holocaust to Freedom, were slain, when the rest 
 dispersed, and the troops pressed forward to Concord, six 
 miles distant. Destroying what stores and arms they could 
 lay hands on there, they were about to retire, when the 
 brave Hosmer led four hundred militia to the attack. The 
 
118 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 
 
 firing had attracted the surrounding farmers, and thej now 
 came pouring in from every quarter. The British, alarmed 
 at this sudden uprising of the people, began their retreat. 
 But the woods seemed alive with minute-men. From every 
 barn, and fence, and house, sped the unerring ball, as 
 closing darker and fiercer on the flying traces of the enemy, 
 the enraged patriots pressed forward to the attack. 
 
 Wearied, mortified and disgraced, the troops at length 
 reached Charlestow^n, with the loss of two hundred and 
 seventy- three. 
 
 The day w^ent out in gloom. Silent terror or burning 
 rage filled every bosom. Adams and "Warren and Ward 
 and Otis, and others, rejoiced, for they knew that the clock 
 of Destiny had now struck the hour. Their great, grand 
 hearts, though throbbing with anxiety and sympathy for the 
 people, could not refrain from swelling with triumph and 
 joy, that liberty had at last found defenders, and that the 
 conflict was set. While friends were committing with more 
 anger than sorrow the dead to the grave, men on horseback 
 with a drum at their saddle-bow, were flying over the coun- 
 try, calling the inhabitants to arms. Past lonely farm- 
 houses, through the thin settlements, the swift riders sped 
 on, beating the alarm drum and shouting, " To arms !" As 
 the clatter of the horse's hoofs and the tap of the drum 
 came and went, wives gazed wdth pale faces on their hus- 
 bands, mothers with quivering lips, handed down the trusty 
 firelock to their sons, and sisters weej^ing filled the scanty 
 knapsacks of their brothers ; yet one and all said, " Go ! 
 in God's name go and strike for liberty !" And they went 
 pouring forward to Boston. 
 
 Putnam was in the field mending his fence when the 
 rider, breathless with haste and excitement, reined up oppo- 
 site him, and, dismounting, hurried to where he stood. 
 " The streets of Lexington and Concord have been soaked 
 in blood, and the country is in a blaze !" was the fearful 
 
LIFE OP WASHINGTON. 119 
 
 message lie delivered. Leaving his oxen where they stood, 
 not stopping to say good-by to his wife, Putnam leaped ou 
 his swiftest horse, and was soon seen tearing along the road 
 toward Boston. In ten minutes after the messenger had 
 delivered the same fearful tidings to Stark, he was in the 
 saddle and galloping for the same rendezvous. For a long 
 time the New England colonies had been expecting the 
 resort of the enemy to violence, and minute-men had been 
 chosen and signals agreed on, by which the fatal news 
 was to be transmitted to the remotest section. A swift 
 rider, with a drum by his side, was to speed along the great 
 thoroughfxres from colony to colony; but in the side- 
 settlements other arrangements had been made, and in an 
 incredible short space of time, it was known in the obscurest 
 corner of the provinces. It was as if powder had been laid 
 in trains all over the land, and a single torch had ignited 
 the whole into a tracery-work of fire, flashing, leaping hea- 
 venward. The news reached Stockbridge, one of the oldest 
 and most western settlements in Massachusetts, on Sunday 
 morning, and the inhabitants of that peaceful valley were 
 thunderstruck, as they saw their deacon, a Jew of the Jews 
 in his observance of the Sabbath, step out of his door and 
 deliberately discharge his musket. The next moment 
 another pillar in the church emerged from his door and 
 fired his piece. This was the signal agreed upon to inform 
 the inhabitants when blood had been shed. Those musket- 
 shots started the farmer where he knelt at the family altar 
 or sat reading God's word to his family. The young father, 
 at the sound, set down the child he was dandling on his 
 knee and, with a glance at his pallid wife, seized his gun ; 
 the aged sire, preparing to go to the house of God, cast one 
 look on the boy of his love and the prop of his old age, 
 and, as it met the quivering lip and mantling cheek and 
 flashing eye, he said, " Go, and God's blessing go with 
 you!" In a short time men, singly and in groups, were 
 
VJO I, I V K O V W \S 11 I N (i TO N. 
 
 soon Nvalkiui; w illi rapid shiJos towarvl tln» Iumiso (»(* tlio 
 Uoaoou. It \v;i.>< a i'i>M ihi/vliMi; nnuuiui:;. luul as thoy 
 urrivvvl l\\c\ Awstcivd on (lio sUn>p o( tho ItiiiMini;'. ap- 
 jvuxMitlv awaiting si>iuo ono. Altera littlo iutoiNal. tlunr 
 pastor. Ml. ^\l^"^t, was si\Mi v-vMuiui:; iK>\vn [Uc lull, with a 
 UiMo uihlor his arm. With oaiv luul anxioty dopii"ti>ii on 
 liis I'vuiiitouanoo. ho ualUisl soloiunlv xnio thoir iniilst. A 
 (oNv woixlstoUl tlu* talo. IK> thou i^pomxl tho l^ihlo. ivail 
 an appu^priato ohaptor. iiuulo a tow ivinarks. auvl lil'tod his 
 tixMuMing voioo iu piavor. *• Ami now mav tho hU\><sinj; of 
 (uhI Ahuijihtv ic^^ with voii ami noivo vvnii hoait ami una iu 
 tho ilay of Uittlo," siiiil tho atlliotod pastor, and tunuxl away, 
 Uefore turtve o\'h\'k, from that little scttlrmrnt tirentt/ sturdy 
 w*rt, with hua^mich on their backs ami mttskets in their hands, 
 had starteii on J\n^ for liiktton, ttco hundn-d miles distant. 
 Tlioiv woit) men m those dixys — (mh/'a* men, wortliy to found 
 an oinpiiv. Oli, how that qnostion must havo takon hold 
 o( thoir souls, w hou it usur{vd ovou tho dutios ot' tho holy 
 Sa\»hath. It was nunv saoivd than tho wvnsliip oi' tho 
 {iiuiotuarv, it was im\o w itli ivli^iou, and. toarlovssly apjvalini; 
 to IuhI and tho fuial judi:;n\ont for tho cvniploto vimlioatitvii 
 o( thoir ivndnot. thov nio\ ovl ivsolutoly into tho strifo. All 
 mor tho laml was this nuuvoKnK>^ uprising o( tho people, 
 till tho rvnids loadin-j; to Inv^^tou woiv blaok with men iu 
 thoir homospun ^arlvs. au(l svhui noarly twonty thous;uul 
 sto^nl on tho hoights that ovorlook tlio oity. 
 
 Whilo thoso stirring soonos woiv [vussing in M:^ss;lohnsotU^ 
 tho stvond Coutinontal (Vngiw^s was assonibling at Fhila- 
 dolphia. Cnuornor PunuKuv. of Virginia, Imd rtvoivod 
 oi\lors to ivuiovo military stoivs, oto.. out o( the ivaoh of 
 tho wlonists. Tho attou>pt ^vt' CuMioral Clagv^ to oxooute a 
 similar onlor. had bnnight on tho oontliot wt Lexington ami 
 Tonooixl. Ounnunv ohos^^ tho samo hour as CiJigo to c:vry 
 out his plan, and at mivlnight had all tho ammunition !»• 
 Ulov^^l to a \\^s<.d in tho rivor. Patriok Henry ho;u\l of it 
 
Livi-: or w A -III s (,']■() s. J2I 
 
 ;if, ]];i.!i<)Vi;r, u.ii<\ 'iini(i(:<\'r'ii<;\y cm.W'iu'j Uj'^<-J.]ii:r li'i;-, voIijm- 
 U'J'AH, !fi''U<:\i<'<\ to VVJIIJamHfjijrg and f;o/ri|/<'ll''/J ih'? ;fOvt;nior 
 to pay thf; full arfiounf, of f,h'; pow'J';r. iJ'; thf-n 'i'rparf/;'] 
 for ConjirrcH;-!. 'I'fi'; h<;';on'J (l')iiirn;HH, frj';t[.Ma/ JO, 177';,] 
 vvjfii ?/loofrjy for ';fjo'JingH. 'J'h';ir j/;fJf.JoriH t/> tJj'; kin;.^ }j;i/J 
 fjf'/^ri itdiiUid wjtii (;<)uU;U\]t\., -.uA no/,'/ (mint'^/'/ri jjfCj'itidmU'A 
 on Ihf; IWjt'jiU'.H of tjjfi coloni'tH. iilood Wi h'jfjn Klj<;fJ, an'l 
 it wan f;vJ'J'',rjt 1/; f;vf;ry on'; that "an app'jal f/> arm.-; and 
 tfj^i God of [jattlcH wan all that wan J':ft" thf.rn. 'i'lj*; fir-.t 
 thing to Ui <i()!if'.h\<-j<-/\ wiKH ilta nUiUt of th'; country, tho 
 wtcMiA if} pr(;paro for op^-.n hontilitif^H. S^r/cral cornmittyfc<;H 
 wore apf>oinWl, and it iH a littl/j Hingular that ^^''nr^^'lnf£U)n 
 vfiiH mii/[(i cMiurm'.in of every one. Jn the dehaf/^H of the 
 firnt CongroHH fio rnunt have nhown r;i.re ahih'ty, and depth 
 and HOundnoHH of judgment K'jJdorri witrieHH^d, t/j have Ujeri 
 thuH Keleeted, a« it were, f/j control every fy>rnmitt/je ap- 
 j/jinted hy a Congrenn of rnen never HurpaHHed in inf/dleet 
 and virtue. Among the mo-.t imporf^xnt aetn to he done 
 wa.s the appoJntm<;nt of a eommander-in-eljief. Amid the 
 conflicting feeling.-; of the colonintn, and the high claim that 
 Ma.~,-;;j/;hur:ett« hfj/I t/j that horjor, thin became a very deli caf/j 
 affair, in tPxe mean time, Samuel Adamn aro«^i, arirl mored 
 that tlje army h.r/r4irfi})U'A aronnd JWni/m 8hould be a^lopt/^1 
 by (yfmincaHH a.H the Continental army. In Hii«t^iining his 
 rcr/Jution, he remarked that he intended t/j nominat/i a 
 member of that honvi i'r<)Ui Virginia aH fy>»mmander-In-chief. 
 HiH rerriarkH and alliinions point^id ho (Yircj-Aly Uj Washing- 
 ton, that the ktf/ir arohe and left the ho^F/;. Wljen the 
 flay for balloting came, he wa:-; unanimouHly electf^d. 
 
 The next morning, immedlat^^ly afU^r the cy^nvening of 
 CongroHH, the prcHident aro.sc and announced to Wa«hingt/^n 
 hi« apf/jlntment. The Ixttter briefly expreHB^id hin thanks 
 for the high honor c^>inferred on him and for the confidenf;c 
 thu.s expreH.%d in hLs ability, and then added — '' Lent .^iomc? 
 
122 LIFE OF WASIIIXGTOX. 
 
 imluck}^ event should happen unflivorable to my reputation, 
 I bog it may be remembered by every gentleman in the 
 room, that I this day declare, with the utmost sincerity, I 
 do not think myself equal to the command I am honored 
 with." Referring to the salary of $G,000 a year, which 
 had been voted him, he said — " I beg leave to assure Con- 
 gress that, as no pecuniary consideration could have tempted 
 me to accept this arduous employment at the expense of 
 my domestic ease and happiness, I do not wish to make any 
 profit from it. I will keep an exact account of my ex- 
 penses ; these, I dou1)t not, they will discharge, and that is 
 all I desire." No, indeed, it was not worth while to think 
 of monej-making in the perilous path he was about to 
 tread. The future was all unknown, even should his life 
 be spared ; success as yet was only a vague dream, and, if 
 he failed, his vast fortune would be confiscated and his wife 
 become a beggar. But this, too, was a mere item ; if he 
 failed he would hang as high as Haman, or spend his re- 
 maining days in some remote Botany Bay, eating the bread 
 of exile and fretting his great soul away in the fetters of a 
 felon. But, like one greater even than he, and speaking of 
 a still nobler cause, he could say, " none of these things 
 move me, neither count I my life dear unto me." 
 
 Of Washington's communings that night to himself, after 
 he had retired to his solitarj^ chamber, we have no record. 
 It is strange that one who kept a diary from the time he was 
 sLxteen years old, and often of facts trivial in themselves, 
 never alludes to his feelings. "We read that diary, extend- 
 ing through years, without ever once penetrating into his 
 inward life. Unlike Cromwell, he discloses none of his in- 
 ward struggles, secret griefs, misgivings, fears or hopes. His 
 acts are the world's, his thoughts his own, and he moves 
 before us always in light, j'-et always in shade. If Wash- 
 ington had left us a record of his thoughts, even during the 
 
LIFE OF WASHIX(3-T0X. 123 
 
 single night afi-er he had cast life and fortune and character 
 in a desperate struggle, what an insight should we get of 
 his character. His family, that he probably would never 
 see again, his honor, his name, above all, the fate of a free 
 people now committed to his trust, occupied in turn his 
 thoughts and awakened into painful intensity his sympathies 
 and his solicitude. He was a commander without an availa- 
 ble army and without munitions of war, and was required 
 to deliver a nation already bankrupt, and soon to be rent by 
 civil war, from the armies and fleets of the strongest em- 
 pire on the globe. He was not one of those who build 
 hopes on dreams, and can be cheated into security by the 
 illusions of fancy. The future lay clear before him ; that 
 is, it was darkness unrelieved by scarce a ray of light into 
 which he was resolved to move with an undaunted heart, 
 trusting in that God who often chooses the gloomiest hour 
 in which to reveal his presence and extend his aid. That 
 was not a night for sleep ; yet how little he conjectured, as 
 he lay revolving the momentous responsibilities he had 
 assumed, and the fearful issues to his country he was to 
 decide, of what was then passing around Boston. All that 
 night the strokes of the spade and pickaxe were falling 
 quick and strong on Breed's Hill, and column after column 
 of men was swiftlv and silentlv marchino; forward to the 
 low redoubt that the morning sun would reveal to the 
 astonished British. 
 
 K Washington's appointment as commander-in-chief had 
 been borne by viewless messengers to the army, the latter 
 could not have hailed the news with more appropriate de- 
 monstrations than it did. The tremendous cannonading 
 from sea and land — the flames of burning Charlestown, and 
 the high and ringing cheers from the intrenched heights, 
 were a fit acknowledgment of an event destined to be so 
 momentous in its final results. 
 
 Four davs after he received his commission, and the 
 
124 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 
 
 next day, accomj^anied by Generals Schuyler and Lee,* 
 started for Boston. A committee from the Provincial Con- 
 gress of New York met him on the road and escorted him, 
 amid the acclamations of the people, into the city. He had 
 heard on the way rumors of the battle of Bunker Hill, but 
 here he first became acquainted with all the particulars. 
 The news made him eager to hasten forward, and escorted 
 by volunteer companies, he proceeded to Springfield, where 
 he was met by a committee from the Provincial Congress 
 of Massachusetts. He found the country, as he passed 
 through it, in a blaze of excitement, and the preparations 
 to arm resoundmg on every side. The gallant defense of 
 the militia at Bunker Hill, and the enthusiasm that pre- 
 vailed, could not but be cheering to the new commander-in- 
 chief; yet he well knew, from past experience, the dif- 
 ference between a single enthusiastic defense of a position, 
 and the harassing, disheartening duties of a long campaign. 
 He reached Cambridge on the 2d of July, and the next 
 morning walked to the great elm-tree standing on the Com- 
 mon, and, drawing his sword, formall}' took command of 
 the army. Loud acclamations rent the air, and hope and 
 animation pervaded the ranks. The Provincial Congress, 
 then sitting at Watertown, near by, presented an address, 
 in which they pledged him their entire cooperation, and the 
 most flattering testimonials poured in upon him from every 
 quarter. He ascertained that the troops assembled num- 
 bered nearly 15,000 men, while the British force in and 
 around Boston amounted to 11,500. But the troops now 
 christened as the " Continental Army" were as motley a 
 set as ever gathered under one banner. There was no or- 
 ganization, no unity. The militia of the different provinces 
 
 • These, together with Artemas Ward and Israel Putnam, had been appointed 
 major-pcnerals ; and Seth Ponicroy, Richard Montgomery, David Wooster, Wil- 
 liani Heath, Joseph Speucer, John Thomas, John Sullivan, and Nathaniel Greene, 
 brigadiers. 
 
W A S II I N (» T O N l> II A <; fj I N C r II i; I" O A f II i: if a S II O H K. 
 
LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 127 
 
 acknowledged no authority but that of their several com- 
 manders, while the excitement and enthusiasm had called 
 together not only true patriots, but adventurers of every 
 description. To render matters still worse, this heteroge- 
 neous multitude were almost without ammunition. But, 
 notwithstanding the disorders that prevailed among, them, 
 there was the groundwork of a noble army. Intrenchments 
 had already been thrown up, and a line of defense com- 
 pleted from the Mystic river to Roxbury, twelve miles in 
 extent, entirely hemming in the British army. The en- 
 campment of the Americans presented a strange yet pic- 
 turesque spectacle. Scarcely any but the Rhode Island 
 troops had tents. The extemporaneous shelter thrown up 
 evinced the craft of the frontiersman rather than the know- 
 ledge of the soldier. Here stood a collection of rude stone 
 hovels, with an opening that looked like the entrance to a 
 cavern ; there a group of board pens, made of slabs and 
 sticks patched with sails ; while farther on were scattered 
 turf mounds, hastily thrown up, and looking more like the 
 home of the prairie wolf than the abodes of men ; yet all 
 showing where the strong-limbed citizen-soldier slept. The 
 handsome marquees of the officers, here and there relieving 
 the dilajDidated, fragmentary character of the encampment, 
 completed the singular spectacle. 
 
 On the 4th of July, a day made afterward still more 
 iaemorable by the glorious Declaration of Independence, 
 Washington issued his first general order to the Continental 
 t rmy. In this, after expressing the hope that all jealousies 
 i f the different colonies would be laid aside, and the only 
 contest be who should render the greatest aid to the com- 
 mon cause, and insisting on discipline and subordination, he 
 says — " The general most earnestly requires and expects a 
 due observance of those articles of war established for the 
 government of the army, which forbid profane cursing, 
 swearing and drunkenness ; and in like manner he requires 
 
128 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 
 
 and expects of all ofHcers and soldiers, not engaged on 
 actual duty, a i^unctual attendance on divine service, to 
 implore the blessings of Heaven upon the means used for 
 our safety and defense." Such an order read to an Euro- 
 pean arm}' would have stunned them more than the an- 
 nouncement of treason in their commander. But Washing- 
 ton wished it understood at the outset, both by his troops 
 and the whole world, that the cause in which he had em- 
 barked was a holy one, and must be disfigured by none of 
 those excesses which are considered a necessary part of a 
 camp life. Reverently fixing his eye on Heaven, he sum- 
 mons his followers to look thither also, ever fervently 
 praying for that help which alone can come from above. 
 
 The organization of the army which followed, proved an 
 annoying and a difficult task. At the very outset murmurs 
 and discontent arose at the appointment of the superior 
 officers by Congress. Selecting generals, not for their 
 ability and long service, but according to their locality', or 
 to j^lease powerful friends, was one of the first false steps 
 made by Congress, and from which it never receded through- 
 out the war. This pernicious, perilous example, thus set at 
 the very commencement of our national existence, the 
 American government has ever since adhered to, with a 
 pertinacity that no disgrace or humiliation can weaken. It 
 covered us with defeat for two years in the war of 1812, 
 and, but for the able officers given us by West Point, would 
 have sent the army back discomfited from Mexico. 
 
 The excitement that prevailed among the troops, on this 
 account, threatened to disrupt the army ; but Washington, 
 by promising to lay their complaints before Congress and 
 get justice done, gradually allayed it. By arranging the 
 brigades and regiments in such a manner that the troops 
 from each colony should for the most part be under their 
 own commander, he restored harmony. Still, many of 
 them refused to sign the rules and regulations presented by 
 
LIFE OF WASHINaTON. 129 
 
 Congress ; they had taken up arms to fight for liberty — not 
 merely provincial, but personal liberty, and they were not 
 going to sign it away to Congress any more than to Parlia- 
 ment. Military despotism was a bugbear that constantly 
 stood in the way of thorough organization of a regular 
 army. This constant doubt of the purity of his intentions 
 and practical distrust of his measures and plans, arrested 
 Washington at every step, and would have disgusted, irri- 
 tated and disheartened any other commander. Even Con- 
 gress exhibited this jealousy of his power, fettering and 
 baffling him, so that his plans were not the reflex of him- 
 self, but rather a compromise of his own wisdom with the 
 fears and demands and follies of those around him. There 
 is no position so trying to a brave commander as this ; the 
 most perilous breach is far preferable to it. It is in such 
 circumstances as these that Washington's moral character 
 rises in its grand and beautiful proportions befoi-e us. With 
 the hot blood and chivalric daring of a southron, joined to 
 the prudence, forecast and wisdom of the sage, he added 
 the patience, forbearance and meekness of a Christian. 
 Such a combination is the rarest on earth. Thus, while the 
 delays, inaction and incomplete organization of the army 
 around Boston have furnished apparently solid ground for 
 historians to underrate his military ability, they in fact 
 enhance it, by showing him firm and uncomplaining under 
 circumstances far worse to be borne than defeat. Had that 
 army been like a single instrument in Washington's hands, 
 wielded at his will, the siege of Boston would have exhibited 
 a brilliancy of manoeuvre, an energy and daring of action, 
 that would have astonished his adversaries ; but, chaining 
 Uis great soul and glowing heart to the wheels of a dilatory 
 Congress and the clogs of prejudice and suspicion, he toiled 
 slowly, patiently, like a bound giant, toward the object of 
 his endeavors. He knew that the great majority of those 
 who had gathered to his standard, however they might err 
 
130 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 
 
 in judgment, were true men and patriots at heart, and 
 examj^le would tell on them in time. His practiced eye also 
 soon discovered there were regiments whose noble devotion 
 would carry them wherever he would lead. Morgan's rifle- 
 men were a splendid body of men, and the words inscribed 
 on their breasts, " Liberty or Death," were symbolical of 
 the brave hearts that throbbed beneath. 
 
 Pennsylvania and Maryland also responded to the call of 
 Congress for troops, and the constant arrival of reinforce- 
 ments kept the camp in a glow and filled the army with 
 confidence and pride. 
 
LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 131 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 Washington Remonstrates against the Treatment of American Prisoners— Senda 
 Arnold to Quebec — Want of Powder in the Army — A new Army raised — The 
 National Flag first hoisted— Washington prevented from Assaulting the Enemy's 
 Works— His feelings under the delay — Thinks of -the poor at home— " Boston 
 Blockaded," a farce — Washington takes possession of Dorchester Heights — 
 Howe resolves to storm them — Attempt abandoned, and the Evacuation of Bos- 
 ton commenced— Sufferings of the Tories— Washington orders the Army to New 
 York — Lee sent South — His Letter — Washington visits Congress— His Views of 
 a Declaration of Independence — Defeat of the Northern Army — Attempt to 
 spread disafiection in Washington's guard — Congress discusses the Declaration of 
 Independence — Excitement in Philadelphia at the final vote — Its reception by 
 the Army and People — Operations around New York— Howe's Letter to George 
 Washington, Esq.— The assembling of the British force— State of the two 
 Armies. 
 
 While Washington was thus cautiously, slowly fusing the 
 discordant elements together, and getting the army into 
 manageable shape, he was told that the American prisoners 
 taken at Bunker Hill were cruelly treated by the British — 
 officers, soldiers and citizens being thrown indiscriminately 
 into prison together. He immediately wrote to his old 
 comrade in arms. General Gage, remonstrating against this 
 treatment. Gage denied the charge, declaring it was an 
 act of clemency on his part that they were not strung up 
 on the gallows ; and as to the different rank of those who 
 fell into his hands, he recognized no grade but that bestowed 
 by the king. Washington, in replying to this insolent and 
 dishonorable note, said, " You affect, sir, to despise all rank 
 not derived from the same source as your own. I cannot 
 conceive one more honorable than that which flows from 
 the uncorrupted choice of a brave and free people, the 
 purest source and original fountain of all power." He im- 
 mediately, in retaliation for the treatment of Americans, 
 ordered some British prisoners into the country, to be 
 placed in close confinement. They had not proceeded far. 
 
132 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 
 
 however, before lie sent a dispatch countermanding the 
 order, and requesting the Committee of Northampton, to 
 whom they had been intrusted, to treat them with all pos- 
 sible leniency. Just and politic as the measure was, his 
 heart revolted at making the innocent suffer for the guilty. 
 
 In the meantime. Congress had ordered General Schuyler 
 to the Northern Department, to take St. John's, Montreal, 
 and other portions of Upper Canada. Washington, seeing 
 this movement would draw the British troops under Gov- 
 ernor Carleton away from Quebec, resolved to send an ex- 
 pedition against it across the wilderness. Eleven hundred 
 men were put under Arnold, who had just returned from 
 the capture of Ticonderoga. This extraordinary man 
 entered upon the desperate undertaking with all the ener- 
 gy, daring and high courage that distinguished him. Not- 
 witlistanding the desertion of one of his officers, and the 
 unparalleled difficulties that beset his way, he finally 
 reached Quebec, and effected a junction with Montgomery. 
 ^\Tiile this expedition was progressing to its disastrous issue, 
 Washington made preparations to fall on the English bat- 
 teries and storm Boston. But no powder was to be had, 
 while there remained only a few rounds to each man. This 
 alarming state of things Washington dare not communicate, 
 except to a few of his own officers, lest it should leak out 
 and get to the ears of the British commander. To those 
 who were ignorant of this fact, the inactivity that followed 
 seemed unaccountable. 
 
 A short time previous to this determination, he had 
 caused six armed schooners to be fitted out, to cruise 
 against the enemy in the neighborhood of Boston. Several 
 captures were made, and among them one by Captain 
 Manly, with a quantity of powder aboard. 
 
 But now the term of enlistment of a large part of the 
 army was drawing to a close. A new army must therefore 
 be raised, and a committee from Congress came on to con- 
 
LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 133 
 
 suit with him on the best means of doing it. Six months 
 had elapsed since the battle of Bunker Hill, and the excited 
 expectations of the country had met with sad disappoint- 
 ment. But now nothing could be done till the reorganiza- 
 tion of the army was effected. This, however, proceeded 
 slowly. Winter set in, and but five thousand recruits had 
 arrived. So few of the old soldiers reenlisted, and they 
 left in such numbers that Washington at one time feared he 
 would be left without an army. But even for the few that 
 remained no provision had been made, and as the frost and 
 snows of December came on, the troops began to suffer 
 severely, and a feeling of despondency weighed down both 
 officers and men. The latter were scantily clothed and 
 destitute of fuel. Some of the regiments ate their food raw 
 for want of fire, while detached parties were seen in every 
 direction carrying off fences, and cutting down fruit and 
 shade trees, with which to kindle a meagre fire in their 
 dilapidated cabins, through which the winds of winter 
 whistled. Many of those who had joined the army with 
 high spirits now began to think of their distant friends, and 
 watching their opportunity, stole away from camp, and 
 turned their footsteps homeward. The clouds gathered 
 darker and darker around the head of Washington, and his 
 heart was oppressed with the gravest fears, yet he still 
 stood firm and serene, the pillar of hope to all around. As 
 a last resort he issued a stirring call to the New England 
 militia, which met with a warm response, and the hardy 
 yeomanry came pouring in. Provisions were obtained, and 
 in ten days a wonderful transformation was effected. The 
 camp looked bright again, and the arrival, at nearly the 
 same time, of Washington's wife and the wives of several 
 of the other officers, gave to the holydays a cheerful aspect, 
 anc" rekindled hope and confidence in the commander. The 
 New left", which threatened to look on a disbanded army, 
 beheld nearly "1t,C00 well ordered men. 
 
 8 
 
134 LIFE OF AVASHINGTOX. 
 
 On the first day of January the national flag of thirteen 
 stripes was hoisted for the first time over the American 
 army, and as it flaunted to the Avind, acclamations and 
 shouts and salvos of artillery greeted it. As Washington's 
 eye watched it undulating gracefully in the breeze, what 
 thoughts must have filled his heart. The symbol of liberty, 
 it was to move in front of his ])attalions to victory or defeat. 
 In the fate of that flag was wrapped all that he hoped for 
 or feared in life. From that moment its destiny and his 
 own were to be one and the same. He expected to carry 
 it, at the head of his columns, through smoke and carnage, 
 perhaps be laid upon it in death after some hard fought 
 field, but how little he dreamed what its marvelous history 
 would be. What would have been his astonishment had it 
 been whispered in his ear, " before all those who are now 
 lookini!;on that flafr shall die. these thirteen colonies shall be 
 thirty states, the three millions of people, for whose free- 
 dom you are struggling, be more'than thirty." 
 
 ' The king's speech before Parliament, in which he de- 
 clared that the most eflicient measures would be taken to 
 put down the rebellion, but at the same time pardon would 
 be extended to all who sued for it, arrived on the same day 
 the flag was hoisted in the American camp. The salvos of 
 artillery and rejoicings that signalized the latter event, 
 Howe, who had succeeded Gage, took as an expression of 
 joy over the gracious nature of the king's offer. 
 
 Washington, who from the first had been very much em- 
 "barrassed in prosecuting the siege of Boston, for want of 
 "heavy cannon, at length dispatched Knox to the forts on 
 Lake Champlain captured from the British, for them. About 
 this time the latter returned, and the long train of forty- 
 two sleds, laden with thirty-nine cannon, fourteen mortars, 
 two howitzers, over two thousand pounds of lead, and a 
 hundred barrels of flints, as it slowly entered the camp, put 
 a new face on affaire, and Washington resolved to assault 
 
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LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 137 
 
 the enemy's works at once. Congress was also anxious 
 that the attack should be hurried forward. The regiments, 
 however, were not yet filled, and at the council of officers 
 called, a still further delay was decided upon. Nothing 
 could be more irksome and irritating than the position in 
 which Washington found himself. " I know," said he, "the 
 unhappy predicament in which I stand; I know what is 
 expected of me. I know that I cannot stand justified to 
 the world without exposing my own weakness, and injuring 
 the cause by declaring my wants, and my situation is so 
 irksome to me at times that if I did not consult the public 
 good more than my own tranquillity, I should, long ere this, 
 put every thing on the cast of a die." That is,, if it had 
 been a matter of mere personal reputation, he would have 
 ended the suspense that galled him like a fetter, by one 
 desperate onset. He regretted that he had been persuaded 
 into delay on the promise of a larger and better army, and 
 when he saw the disinclination of the soldiers to reenlist, 
 he said, " could I have known that such backwardness 
 would have been discovered by the old soldiers to the service, 
 all the generals upon earth would not have convinced me of the 
 propriety of delaying an attack on Boston till this time." 
 
 In the midst of these trials and embarrassments came the 
 news of Arnold's failure at Quebec, and Schuyler's in Can- 
 ada, accompanied by a letter from the latter, requesting a 
 reinforcement of three thousand men. But while envel- 
 oped in perplexities, and his mind occupied by such vast 
 and varied schemes, he had time to think of the jDOor on 
 and around his plantation, and early in the winter he wrote 
 home to Lady Washington, " Let the hospitality of the 
 house, with respect to the poor, be kept up. Let no one go 
 hungry away. If any of this kind of people should be in 
 want of corn, supply their necessities, provided it does not 
 encourage them in idleness." Although in the present 
 condition of his affairs, and receiving nothing for his ser 
 
138 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 
 
 vices, the '' greatest frugality and economy" are demanded, 
 he wishes two or three hundred dollars to be devoted annu- 
 ally to the poor. Nothing escapes his all-embracing mind, 
 and still more all-embracing heart. 
 
 All this time the two armies lay only a mile apart, in full 
 view of each other's operations, while the outposts were 
 almost within speaking distance. Scarcely a day passed in 
 Avhich there was not more or less cannonading by the enemy, 
 to which the Americans, for want of powder, had to submit 
 in silence. What little they had was reserved, as Washing- 
 ton remarked, " for closer work than cannon distance, when- 
 e^'cr the red-coat gentry please to step out of their intrench- 
 ments." 
 
 As the winter passed on the British began to feel the 
 want of provisions. Meat of all kinds was ruinously high, 
 while houses were torn down to furnish fuel for the soldiers. 
 The parsonage of the old South Meeting-liouse, the old 
 Ngrth Chapel, and i\\Q wooden steeple of the West Church, 
 were one after another pulled to pieces for this purpose, 
 while the glorious old " Libert}'- Tree" furnished fourteen 
 cords of wood. Faneuil Hall was fitted up as a theatre, in 
 which a farce called " Boston Blockaded," was pla3"ed, to 
 the infinite amusement of the British and Tories. One of 
 the chief characters in it was Washington, who cut a sorry 
 figure on the stage. Shabbily clad, with a long, rusty sword 
 by his side,, attended by an ungainly, ragged sers'ant, carry- 
 ing an ancient gun, he walked the boards with a gait that 
 drew down the house, while his speeches were received with 
 immoderate laughter. This was all very well in a farce, 
 ]jut an incident occurred one niij;ht that showed liow close 
 fear trod on the heels of laus-hter. 
 
 A detachment had been sent to Charlestown to destroy 
 some houses cither occupied, or used for fuel by British 
 soldiers. In tliis they wci-e successful, making several 
 prisoners. The skirmish that f)l lowed was taken by the 
 
LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 139 
 
 outposts for a general movement of the army and an officer 
 burst into the theatre exclaiming, " the rebels are attacking 
 our works on Bunker Hill !" The audience, supposing this 
 to be a part of the play, and intended as a surprise, roared 
 with laughter, but when, suddenly, high over the merri- 
 ment, Lord Howe, who was present, shouted, " Officers, to 
 your alarm posts!" the farce was turned into a tragedy, and 
 manager, characters, audience and all, rushed pell-mell 
 from the building. 
 
 The winter had been so mild, that but little ice had 
 formed in the waters around Boston, but at length, in the 
 middle of February, it froze hard enough to bear troops, 
 and Washington proposed to take advantage of it at once, 
 and, crossing from Roxbury to Dorchester Heights, fortify 
 the latter, and at the same time carry Boston by assault. 
 A council of war, however, decided that the latter attempt 
 was too perilous. Mortified and disappointed at this lack 
 of spirit and daring, Washington, nevertheless, resolved to 
 take possession of Dorchester Heights, and plant his bat- 
 teries above the town, and, if needs be, demolish it, crowded 
 though it was with friends as well as foes. The noble 
 Hancock had urged him to do this, and, if necessary, send 
 the first shot against his own dwelling. 
 
 The great difficulty, however, was to cast up intrench- 
 ments in a single night, sufficiently strong to cover the 
 troops from the British fire in the morning. The manner 
 in which this was done I find thus clearly related in the 
 diary of Rufus Putnam, the chief engineer of the army.* 
 
 " 1776, January and February. During those months 
 the mind of General Washington was deeply engaged in a 
 
 * Jadge Putnam of Ohio, the descendant of Rufus Putnam, has kindly furnished 
 me with the manuscript diary of his ancestor, together with other valuable papers. 
 Though not a professed engineer, he had had a good deal of experience in the 
 French war, and the post was almost forced upon him by Washington and the 
 other generals. All the works at Dorchester, Roxbury, and Brookline, were laid 
 out by him- 
 
140 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 
 
 plan of crossing on the ice, and attacking the British in 
 Boston and taking possession of Dorchester Neck. 
 
 " Now, with respect to taking possession of Dorchester 
 Neck, there were circumstances which fell under my know- 
 ledge and sphere of duty, which were so evidently marked 
 by the hand of an overruling Providence, that I think pro- 
 j)er to relate them. 
 
 ''As soon as the ice was thought sufficiently strong for 
 the army to cross over, or perhaps rather before, a council 
 of general officers was convened on the subject. What their 
 particular opinions were I never knew, but the brigadiers 
 were directed to consult the field-officers of their several 
 regiments, and they again to feel the temper of the captains 
 and subalterns. 
 
 " While this was doing, I was invited to dine at head- 
 quarters ; and while at dinner General Washington desired 
 me to tarry after dinner, and when we were alone he en- 
 tered into a free conversation on the subject of storming the 
 town of Boston. 
 
 " That it was mucli better to draw the enemy out to 
 Dorchester, than to attack him in Boston, no one doubted ; 
 for if we could maintain ourselves on that point or neck of 
 land, our command of the town and harbor of Boston would 
 be such as would probably compel tliem to leave the place. 
 
 " But the cold weather, which had made a bridge of ice 
 for our passage into Boston, had also frozen the earth to a 
 great depth, especially in the open country, as was the hills 
 on Dorchester Neck — so that it was impossible to make a 
 lodgment there in the usual way. However, the general 
 directed me to consider the subject, and if I could think ot 
 any way in which it could be done, to make report to him 
 immediately. 
 
 <'And now mark those singular circumstances which I call 
 providential. I left head-quarters with another gentleman, 
 and in our way came ])y General Ileath^s. I had no thought 
 
LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 141 
 
 of calling until I came against his door, and then I says let 
 us call on General Heath ; to which he agreed. I had no 
 other motive but to pay my respects to the general. While 
 there, I cast my eye on a book which lay on the table, let- 
 tered on the back, ' MuUer's Field Engineer.' I immedi- 
 ately requested the general to lend it to me — he denied me. 
 I repeated my request — he again refused, and told me he 
 never lent his books. I then told him that he must recol- 
 lect that he was one who at Roxbury in a measure com- 
 pelled me to undertake a business which, at the time, I con- 
 fessed I had never read a word about, and that he must let 
 me have the book. After some more excuses on his part, 
 and close pressing on my part, I obtained the loan of it. I 
 arrived at my quarters about dark. It was the custom for 
 the overseers of the workmen to report every evening what 
 progress had been made during the day. Wlien I arrived 
 there were some of them already there. I put my book in 
 the chest, and if I had time did not think of looking in it 
 that night. 
 
 " The next morning, as soon as an opportunity offered, I 
 took my book from the chest, and looking over the contents 
 found the word ' chandeliers.' What is that ? thouo;ht I — 
 it is something I never heard of before ; but no sooner did 
 I turn to the page where it was described, with its use, but I 
 was ready to report a plan for making a lodgment on Dor- 
 chester Neck, (infidels may laugh if they please.) In a few 
 minutes after I had for myself determined, Col. Gridley 
 (the engineer who had conducted the work at Cambridge) 
 with Col. Knox of the artillery, who had been directed to 
 consult with me on the subject, arrived. They fell in with 
 my plan — our report was approved of by the general, and 
 preparations immediately set on foot to carry it into effect ; 
 and, every thing being ready for the enterprise, the plan 
 was put in execution, and a lodgment made on Dorchester 
 Heights in the night of the fourth of March. Such were 
 
142 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 
 
 the circimistances which led to the discovery of a plan 
 whicli obliged tlie enemy to leave Boston, viz. a lodgment 
 made of chandelier* fascines, etc." 
 
 The better to conceal his purpose, and make it appear 
 that an attack on the line was about to be made, Washing- 
 ton, on Saturday night, the 2d of March, opened a tre- 
 mendous cannonade, the heavy metal reaching even into 
 the city, and shattering the houses. The British replied, 
 and the two armies thundered on each other all night. The 
 next (Sunday) night Washington again opened his heavy 
 batteries. On Monday night, while the deafening explo- 
 sions were filling the inhabitants of Boston with terror, he 
 ordered General Thomas with two thousand men to march 
 swiftly across the neck and occupy the heights. Bundles 
 of hay had been laid along on the town side to prevent the 
 rumbling of the three hundred carts that followed from 
 reaching the enemy's outposts. This immense train of 
 carts, driven rapidly over the neck, carried the pressed hay 
 and fliscines, etc., for the chandeliers. It was a bright 
 moonlight night as the soldiers wheeled up the heights, 
 unseen by the sentinels below, and commenced their work. 
 The bundles of hay were tumbled out and picketed to- 
 gether in the frames constructed for them, and when the 
 bright sun gleamed down on the frozen waters it revealed 
 to the astonished enemy two dark structures standing on 
 Dorchester Heights. Howe was amazed at the apparition, 
 and after surveying the works long and anxiously through 
 his glass, exclaimed, " I know not what I shall do." The 
 play of " Boston Blockaded" was evidently drawing to a 
 close. These heights commanded the bay, and also Nook's 
 
 * " A chandelier is constructed of one sill ten feet long and six inches square, 
 with two posts five feet long, of the same size, framed into the sill five feet apart, 
 each supported ]>y a brace on the outside. They arc placed on the ground at a 
 proper distance from each other — the open space between the posts is thou filled 
 with buudles of Aiscincs, strongly picketed together." 
 
LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 143 
 
 Hill, which overlooked Boston. Something must be done 
 at once. Dorchester Heights had become a second Bunker 
 Hill, and the rebels must be driven from there, or the city 
 abandoned. Washington, not doubting that the enemy would 
 storm his works, had, therefore, planned an assault on the 
 city from the oj)posite side, when it took place. Two col- 
 umns of two thousand men each, commanded by Greene 
 and Sullivan, the whole under Putnam, were, at a given 
 signal, to embark in boats near the mouth of Charles river, 
 and pushing rapidly forward effect a landing under the fire 
 of three floating batteries, and fall furiously on the enemy. 
 
 Howe prepared at once to storm the American works, 
 and commanded Earl Percy with three thousand men to 
 attack them without delay. Washington anticipating this, 
 galloped to the heights and gazed with kindling eye on the 
 preparations for battle going on in the enemy's camp. He 
 did not doubt for a moment of winning a glorious victory — 
 the soldiers were in high spirits, and their courage was 
 roused to a sterner pitch when he rode along their lines and 
 bade them remember that it was the anniversary of the 
 "Boston Massacre." The firm resolve to revenge that 
 bloody act, mingled with the more exalted purpose to strike 
 for liberty. 
 
 The three thousand men, with Percy at their head, were 
 marched to the shore with orders to rendezvous at Castle 
 William, and when night came on mount to the assault. 
 The hills around were covered with spectators, and thou- 
 sands of hearts beat anxiously in view of the approaching 
 conflict. But toward night a heavy wind arose, rendering 
 it impossible for the boats to land, and while the troops 
 stood waiting the orders to advance, the night came on dark 
 and stormy. The rain fell in torrents, and they returned 
 drenched and chilled to camp. All next day the storm 
 continued to rage, and a council of war being called, it was 
 resolved to abandon the assault and evacuate the town 
 
144 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 
 
 Washington disappointed in not bringing on an engagement 
 returned to camp, and Howe began to make preparations 
 for his departure. The inhabitants were now filled with 
 alarm lest the latter should destroy the town, and a com- 
 mittee was appointed to wait on him to intercede for the 
 place. Howe very gladly promised to spare Boston if 
 Washington would spare him and the fleet, and though no 
 agreement was entered into, it was understood on both sides 
 that the evacuation was to be effected quietly and without 
 molestation. Washington, however, was determined not to 
 trust to jDromises, and commenced planting (March 9tli) his 
 batteries on Dorchester Neck, so as to command more com- 
 pletely the enemy's shipping. The British discerned the 
 movement, and immediately turned their heavy guns upon 
 the Americans. The latter replied from all their batteries, 
 and all night long it thundered and flamed around Boston, 
 sending terror to the inhabitants, who, thinking it to be the 
 signal for a final battle, expected every moment to see the 
 city in a blaze. But in the morning Howe ordered the bat- 
 teries to cease playing, and went on with the preparations 
 for embarking the troops. 
 
 At length, on Sunday the 17th, the army numbering, all 
 told, about 11,000 men, together with 1,000 loyalists who 
 fled, leaving all their property behind them, were taken 
 aboard the transports, whose sails were soon moving down 
 the bay. The American army no sooner saw the enemy 
 in motion, than it paraded at Cambridge, and led by Put- 
 nam entered the deserted works of the British. Their loud 
 hurrahs were heard by the retreating enemy, and all was 
 exultation. The next day Washington accompanied by his 
 staff rode into town, and was received with acclamations by 
 the inhabitants. 
 
 The English fleet did not at first withdraw entirely, but 
 lay for some time in the Nantucket Road, causing )\'ash- 
 iugton much anxiety respectmg its intentions. " AVhat 
 
\V A S JI I N- G T N D E S C K N D 1 X a THE OHIO. 
 
LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 147 
 
 they are doing there," said he, "the Lord only knows." 
 Cramped and confined in the over-crowded ships, the Tories 
 suffered severely. Some enlisted as seamen, and all paid 
 dear for their desertion of the cause of freedom. Wash- 
 ington was far from being pained to hear of their misera- 
 ble condition, and in describing it said, " Two have done 
 what a greater number ought to have done long ago, com- 
 mitted suicide." These misguided men had supposed the 
 British army invincible. *' When the order issued therefore 
 for embarking the troops, no electric shock, no explosion of 
 thunder, in a word, not the last trump could have struck 
 them with greater consternation." 
 
 The moment Washington got possession of Boston his 
 amazing energies began to develop themselves. Believing 
 that the next demonstration of the enemy Avould be against 
 New York, he hurried troops off to defend it. Even before 
 the fleet had left he dispatched thither a regiment and 
 several companies of riflemen, and wrote to Governor 
 Trumbull of Connecticut, to throw two thousand men with- 
 out delay into the town, and also to the Committee of Safety 
 of New Jersey to add an additional thousand, that in case 
 of a sudden attack the city might hold out till he could 
 arrive with the army. Oflicers, in the meantime, were sent 
 forward to collect vessels at Norwich to receive the 
 troops the moment they should arrive. He also dispatched 
 artillerists and ammunition to General Thomas, who had 
 been appointed commander-in-chief of the arm}^ in Canada, 
 with a promise of larger reinforcements soon to follow. He 
 knew that the evacuation of Boston would be the signal for 
 active operations all along the coast, and he ordered all his 
 necessary camp equipage to be got ready immediately, say- 
 ing, "■ after I have once got into a tent I shall not soon quit 
 it." No sooner had the enemy disappeared entirely than 
 the whole army was set in motion for New York. Nearly 
 thirty thousand troops had assembled around Boston, over 
 
148 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 
 
 twenty thousand of whom belonged to the army proper. 
 Twenty-seven hundred of these were on the sick list — the 
 remainder, with the exception of five regiments under Lin- 
 :oln left for the defense of Boston, were soon streaming 
 iouthward. Division followed division in rapid succession. 
 The inhabitants gazed with alarm on the swiftly marching 
 columns and lonr;; trains of artillery and bacfcao-e-wao-ons as 
 they rolled heavily onward, foretelling strife and carnage to 
 come. Washington with his guard outstripped the slow 
 march of his army, and passing through Providence, Nor- 
 wich, and New London, embarked on board a vessel and 
 reached New York on the loth of April. He immediately 
 insjDected the works erected by Lee, and also by Putnam, 
 who had succeeded the former in command of the city, 
 passed from fort to fort directing the different points to be 
 occupied, and then calmly vie^ved his position. The twilight 
 shadows of the gloomy night that was so soon to close 
 around the American cause were already creeping over the 
 land. The disasters that had befallen our troops in the 
 north had extinguished the hopes of securing the coopera- 
 tion of the Canadians, and at the same time encouraged the 
 Indians to break from their neutrality, so that a dark and 
 threatening cloud was rising along our unprotected frontiers. 
 The troops were without blankets, and Congress without 
 money, and worse than all without unity of feeling and 
 purpose. 
 
 Sending off more troops into Canada, Washington has- 
 tened to Philadelphia, and though filled with anguish at the 
 dissensions, timidity, and despondency that reigned in Con- 
 gress, took courage when he found a large majority witli 
 him in insisting on a vigorous prosecution of the war. A 
 resolution was hurried tlirough .to raise thirteen thousand 
 eight hundred militia,* and a flying camp of ten thousand 
 more, from Pennsylvania, Maryland, and Delaware. 
 
 • From New York, Massachusetts, Connecticut, and Nuw Jersey 
 
LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 149 
 
 In the meantime the Virginia Convention passed a bold 
 resolution, recommending Congress to declare the colonies 
 free and independent. " This is a noble vote," said Wash- 
 ington when he heard of it ; " many members of Congress, 
 in short the whole jDrovinces, are feeding themselves with 
 the dainty food of reconciliation, but things have come to 
 such a pass that we have nothing more to expect from the 
 justice of Great Britain." The leaders of the people must 
 not delude themselves and others with pleasing hopes and 
 dreams, but look facts in the face, and prepare for the worst. 
 In no other way can energy of action be secured. " One 
 and all," said he, " must enter the contest with the full be- 
 lief 'that he must conquer or submit to unconditional terms, 
 such as confiscation, hanging, and the like,'' " et ceteras well to 
 be considered, however disagreeable. 
 
 The plan of the campaign on the part of the British had 
 now begun to assume a definite form. Howe w^as to attack 
 New York, ascend the Hudson, and meet an army, from 
 Canada, thus cutting the provinces in two, while Clinton 
 should occupy the southern seaports, driving the Americans 
 back to the interior. It was also known that mercenary 
 troops were on the way, and the name of Hessian became 
 a spell-word with which to conjure up shapes of evil. 
 
 Washington was absent fifteen days. On his return to 
 New York, he pushed forward the preparations for receiving 
 the enemy with all possible dispatch. Gondolas, boats, etc., 
 were built to defend the Narrows, below which the Endish 
 ships had been driven by the American batteries, and New 
 York soon assumed a formidable appearance. The news, 
 however, from the north and south grew more and more 
 discouraging. Lee wrote from the south, over which he 
 had been placed, that he was "like a dog in a dancing 
 school," and did not know "where to turn himself or 
 where to fix himself." The country was so intersected by 
 navigable streams to which the British could fly at any mo- 
 
150 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 
 
 ment on their " canvas wings," that he was left to conjec- 
 ture alone where the first onset would be made, while the 
 Committee of Safety of Virginia, unlike its convention, was 
 full of hesitation and doubt. " Page, Lee, Mercer, and 
 Payne," said he, " are indeed exceptions, but from Pendle- 
 ton, Blond, the Treasurer and Company libera nos Dominc.'^ 
 From the north came tidings still more disheartening. The 
 army was being driven in disgrace from Canada. The 
 miserable remains of the armament that was to conquer it, 
 lay without tents to cover them on the shores of Lake Cham- 
 plain, one-half sick with small-pox, fever, and dysenter}^ 
 over whose bodies myriads of loathsome vermin crawled 
 unmolested ; the other half disorganized and desponding, 
 and with scarcely sufficient energy to cast their dead com- 
 rades into the two huge 2)its dug for their reception. Such 
 was the news that ever and anon was brought to Washing- 
 ton, keeping his mind on the stretch from morning till 
 riiglit, and tasking his powers to their utmost limit. In the 
 mean time forty sail [June 30] were reported in sight of 
 the Hook. To add to all these embarassments and trials, 
 treason and disaffection were in his very midst. Governor 
 Tryon, who remained on board ship down the bay, plotted 
 unceasingly to detach the inhabitants and soldiers from the 
 cause of the colonies. By seductive promises, rewards, and 
 deceptions, he corrupted both, and finally penetrated even 
 into Washington's guard, and set on foot a conspiracy to 
 seize Washington himself. He expected in a short time to 
 have the pleasure of seeing the head rebel on the deck of 
 his ship. The plot, however, was revealed, and one of the 
 guard was arrested, tried by court-martial, and hung — a 
 warning to all who meditated treason. 
 
 While events were thus passing around New York, Con- 
 oress, having asscml)led in Pliihidelphia, were engaged in the 
 momentous question of a Declaration of Independence. Many 
 of the separate provinces had already acted on the subject. 
 
LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 151 
 
 North Carolina took the first step, and passed a vote in- 
 structing her delegate to concur with the other colonies in 
 declaring independence. Massachusetts followed. Virginia 
 next wheeled into the ranks, then Connecticut and New 
 Hampshire. Maryland opposed it; while the delegates from 
 the remaining provinces were instructed to unite with the 
 majority, or left free to act as their judgments might dic- 
 tate. Thus instructed, the representatives of the people 
 assembled in solemn conclave, and long* and anxiously sur- 
 veyed the perilous ground on which they were treading. 
 To recede was now impossible — to go on seemed fraught 
 with terrible consequences. The struggle had not been for 
 independence, but for the security of rights, in which they 
 had the sympathy and aid of some of the wisest statesmen 
 of England. To declare themselves free would cut them 
 off from all this sympathy, and provoke at once the entire 
 power of England against them. The result of the long 
 and fearful conflict that must follow was more than doubt- 
 ful. For twenty days Congress was tossed on a sea of per- 
 plexity. At length Richard Henry Lee, shaking off the 
 fetters that galled his noble spirit, [June 7th] arose and in 
 a clear, deliberate tone, every accent of which rung to the. 
 farthest extremity of the silent hall, read, " Resolved, that 
 these United Colonies are and ought to he free and independent 
 States, and that all politicMl connection between us and the State 
 of Great Britain is and ought to he totally dissolved.^' John 
 Adams, in whose soul glowed the burning future, seconded 
 it in a speech so full of impassioned fervor, thrilling elo- 
 quence and prophetic power, that Congress was carried away 
 as by a resistless wave before it. 
 
 The die was cast, and every man was now compelled to 
 meet the dreadful issue. Still weighed down with fear, 
 Congress directed the secretary to omit in the journal the 
 names of the bold mover and seconder of this resolution, 
 lest they should be selected as the special objects of ven- 
 
152 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 
 
 geance by Great Britain. The resolution was made tlie spe- 
 cial question for next day, but remained untouched for three 
 days, and was finally deferred to the 1st of July, to allow 
 a committee appointed for that purpose to draft a declaration 
 of independence. When the day arrived, the declaration 
 was taken up and debated article by article. The discussion 
 continued for three days and was characterized by great 
 excitement; at length the various sections having been gone 
 through with, the^next day, July 4th, 177G, was appointed 
 for final action. It was soon known throughout the city, 
 and in the morning, before Congress assembled, the streets 
 were filled with excited men, some gathered in groups en- 
 gaged in eager discussion, and others moving toward the 
 State House. All business was forgotten in the momentous 
 crisis the country had now reached. No sooner had the 
 members taken their seats, than the multitude gathered 
 in a dense mass around the entrance. The old bell-man 
 mounted to the belfry, to be ready to proclaim the joyful 
 tidings of freedom so soon as the final vote had passed. A 
 bright-eyed boy was stationed below to give the signal. 
 Around that bell, brought from England, had been cast more 
 than twenty years before the proiDlietic sentence, " Procl^vim 
 Liberty throughout all the land unto all the inhabit.\nts 
 THEREOF." Although its loud clang had often sounded over 
 the city, the proclamation engraved on its iron lip had never 
 yet been spoken aloud. It was expected that the final vote 
 would be taken without any delay, but hour after hour wore 
 on and no report came from that mysterious hall, where the 
 fate of a continent was being settled. The multitude grew 
 impatient — the old bell-man leaned over the railing, strain- 
 ing his eyes downward, till his heart misgave him and hope 
 yielded to fear. But at length, at two o'clock, the door of 
 Hie hall opened, and a voice exclaimed, " It has passed!'* 
 The word leaped like lightning from lip to lip, followed by 
 huzzas that shook the building. The boy-sentinel turned 
 
LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 153 
 
 to the belfrj, clapped his hands, and shouted " Ring — ring!" 
 The desponding bell-man, electrified into life by the joyful 
 news, seized the iron tongue and hurled it backward and 
 forward, with a clang that startled every heart in Philadel- 
 phia like a bugle blast. " Clang — clang" it resounded on, 
 ever higher and clearer and more joyous, blending in its 
 deep and thrilling vibrations, and proclaiming in long and 
 loud accents over all the land the glorious motto that encir- 
 cled it. Glad messengers caught the tidings as it floated 
 out on the air and sped off in every direction, to bear it on- 
 ward. When the news reached New York, the bells were 
 set ringing, and the excited multitude surging hither and 
 thither at length gathered around the Bowling Green, and 
 seizing the leaden equestrian statue of George III. which 
 stood there, tore it into fragments.* When the declaration 
 arrived in Boston, the people gathered to old Faneuil Hall 
 to hear it read, and as the last sentence fell from the lips 
 of the reader a loud shout went up, and soon from every 
 fortified height and every battery the thunder of cannon 
 reechoed the joy. 
 
 Washington drew up his army and had the declaration 
 read to each brigade in turn. The acclamations with which 
 it was received showed how thoroughly the troops were 
 penetrated with the principle of Liberty. In the mean time 
 events were thickening around New York. The British 
 fleet from Halifax had arrived, and while Philadelphia was 
 yet shaking to the shouts of the multitude, on the wooded 
 heights of Staten Island the last of the troops under General 
 Howe were assembling, preparatory to a descent on the 
 city below. On the 12th July, taking advantage of a 
 strong south wind, two English ships of war stretched 
 under a press of canvas up the North river. The mo- 
 ment they came within range of the batteries on shore 
 a rapid fire was opened on them. But the men, protected 
 
 * This was afterward run into bullets and hurled against his majesty's troops. 
 
 9 
 
154 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 
 
 by sand-bags, remained unharmed, while the vessels being 
 under rapid headway soon passed out of danger, and taking 
 position in Tappan sea, lay beyond the reach of shot from 
 shore, thus proving what Washington said he " had long 
 most religiously believed, that a vessel with a brisk wind 
 and strong tide cannot, unless by chance shot, be stopped 
 by a battery on shore." 
 
 A^'a«hington, knowing that the only way the British could 
 reach the city landward was by Long Island, along the 
 shores of which they could at any time disembark their 
 troops, stretched a cordon of works from "Wallabout Bay 
 across Brooklyn Heights, down to Gowan's Cove, the chief 
 fortifications being on the Heights. At each extremity, 
 and where they touched the water, batteries were i)laced, 
 to prevent ships going up the East river. General Howe 
 in the mean time remained tranquil in his head quarters on 
 Staten Island, waiting for reinforcements from England, 
 before he ventured on an attack. Washington occupied the 
 long interval that elapsed in thro^Ying up works at Kins- 
 bridge, and erecting forts Washington and Lee, between 
 which, across the river, were stretched chevaux de frise and 
 hulks of vessels, sunk to prevent the British fleet fron^ 
 ascending and outflanking him, and in establishing redoubts 
 along the Hudson and the East rivers. 
 
 The two ships that had gone up the Hudson with their 
 tenders, kept cruising below the Highlands, taking sound- 
 ings, and effectually dividing the northern and southern 
 army. 
 
 At length Lord Howe joined his brother, having been 
 Kent as royal commissioner, with terms of reconciliation, or, 
 as Washington said, " to dispense pardons to repenting sin- 
 ners." These, however, were so utterly unsatisflictory that 
 they could not be entertained for a moment. He also sent 
 a letter to Washington with a flag, which the guard-boats 
 •detained till the will of the American general could be 
 

 
 
 H tl I STI. N 1 N <i 1 11 i; 1. IllKKTV TItKK. 
 
LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 157 
 
 ascertained. Colonel Reed was immediately s mt down to 
 meet the flag, when the officer in charge of it handed him 
 a letter directed to " George Washington, Esq." Reed 
 assured him that there was no such man in the American 
 army, and refused to take charge of it, and the flag was 
 compelled to return. A few days after another letter with 
 the same superscription was sent and met the same recep- 
 tion. General Howe then dispatched his adjutant general 
 to Washington's quarters, bearing a letter directed " To 
 George Washington, Esq., etc., etc., etc." The ad- 
 jutant addressed Washington as his " excellency," which 
 certainly was a great concession to the head rebel of the 
 colonies, and said that General Howe regretted exceedingly 
 that the mode of address was offensive, as no insult had 
 been intended, for both Lord and General Howe " held his 
 person and character in the highest esteem." To meet all 
 objections as to rank or title the et ceteras had been affixed, 
 which, like the Italian Tante grazie, meant just as much as 
 you chose to imagine. But Washington declared that he 
 would not receive as a private person any letter " relating 
 to his public station," and that a letter without some in- 
 dication in its address of its public character must neces- 
 sarily be considered private. After much expenditure of 
 courtesy on both sides, the adjutant, stubbornly refusing 
 to give any interpretation to the et ceteras, returned to 
 General Howe, who at length, in view of the momentous 
 results at stake, ventured to break through this punctilio, 
 and address his letter to " General Washington." For this 
 extraordinary stretch of his powers as royal commissioner, 
 he, in his dispatches home, said he hoped his majesty 
 would not be offended. The change of the mode of the 
 address, however, did not effect a reconciliation with the 
 mother country, though so great a sacrifice might seem to 
 merit some reward. 
 
 In the mean time various gallant attempts had been made 
 
158 LIFE OF WASIIIXGTO^\ 
 
 to capture the two English ships in Tappan Bay, and though 
 unsuccessful, one tender had been taken, towed ashore, and 
 burned. Alarmed at these repeated attacks, they took ad- 
 vantage of a strong tide and northerly wind to return, 
 runnmg the gauntlet of the batteries and the riflemen on 
 shore in gallant style, hurling their grape-shot as they swept 
 on. They succeeded in joinhig the fleet in safety, though 
 many an ugly rent gave indications of what might be ex- 
 pected should a whole fleet attempt to pass. 
 
 At length, by the middle of August, the British rein- 
 forcements had all arrived, swelling the entire army to some 
 twenty-five thousand men, supported by a powerful fleet. 
 Against this formidable array Washington could not bring 
 a single ship, and only eleven thousand one hundred men, 
 a large part of whom Avere raw militia.* Added to all this 
 tremendous preponderance of force, made still more eflec- 
 tive by a covering fleet, the whole army was well supplied 
 with every thing necessary to success, while the American 
 troops being scattered along from Kinsbridge to Brooklyn, 
 a space of fifteen miles, was miserably equipped, without 
 discipline, and at this very juncture torn assunder by 
 jealousies and bitter feuds, often breaking out into open 
 animosity. Washington, expecting an attack daily, strove 
 to allay this discord, and partially succeeded — still his posi- 
 tion was extremely critical, and it was hoping against rea- 
 son to dream of saving New York. 
 
 But the news of Moultrie's gallant defense of the 
 " slaughter-pen," as Lee in derision termed it, on Sullivan's 
 Island, in Charleston harbor, reawakened confidence and 
 kindled fond anticipations in the hearts of many that a 
 similar fate awaited the enemy around New York. The 
 salvation of the city, however, was only a secondary con- 
 sideration — with its fixU the route to Albany would, in all 
 
 • The army nominally consisted of 25,537— but 3,368 were sick, 97 absent on 
 furlough, and 2,940 ou command. 
 
LIFE OF WASHINGTON. I59 
 
 probability, be opened to the British, and the northern 
 army, now retreating from Canada, would be crushed mid- 
 way, and all the eastern provinces cut off from their north- 
 ern brethren. This stroke would give the finishing blow 
 to the union of the colonies, leaving each victim to fall 
 alone. 
 
160 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 
 
 CHAPTER yi. 
 
 The British land on Long Island— Sickness of Greene — The Battle — Defeat of Sul- 
 livan and Stirling — Masterly Retreat to New York — Causes of Failure — New York 
 abandoned — Retreat of Washington to Harlem Heights — Landing of the British 
 at Kip's Bay — Poltroonery of the Americans and rage of Washington — His 
 severe Order of the Day — Remarks on this Conduct of Washington — Narrow 
 Escape of Putnam with his Division — Skirmish between two Detachments and 
 Death of Knowlton — Manoeuvre of Howe and Battle of Chattcrton's Hill — Re- 
 treat of Washington— Fall of Fort Washington. 
 
 At length, August 22(1, it was announced that the British 
 were landing on Long Island, between the Narrows and 
 Sandy Hook. The plan originally was to bombard the city, 
 but this had been abandoned, and an attack by land re- 
 solved upon. General Greene, to whom the works on Long 
 Island had been intrusted, and who was doubtless thoroughly 
 acquainted with every locality, was at this critical moment 
 prostrated by a bilious fever, and carried to New York. 
 Putnam succeeded him in the command, but, from some 
 cause or other, did not seem to think his duties extended 
 beyond the lines. 
 
 Between the plain on which the British landed and the 
 mtrenchments of the Americans, stretched a thickly wood- 
 ed hill, traversed by only three roads, on each of which 
 redoubts had been thrown up to check the advance of the 
 enemy. But one of these, the Bedford road, which led 
 straight up to the American works, was left wholly un- 
 guarded. Sullivan commanded without the lines in this 
 direction, and it seems incomprehensible that any general 
 r,ould commit such a strange oversight in presence of the 
 enemy. Washington had given express orders to have all 
 these passes well guarded, but the fact that Greene was ex- 
 pected to be well enough to resume his command before the 
 attack commenced, prevented the appointment of an officer 
 
LIFE OP WASHINGTON. IGl 
 
 in his place, in time to allow him to become acquainted 
 with the ground, while Sullivan, Putnam, and Stirling 
 seemed wholly ignorant of the exact duties required of 
 them. Besides, the universal belief that this land de- 
 monstration was only a feint to draw off the troops from 
 the city, on which the grand attack, by water, would be 
 made, may have caused the officers in charge to be less 
 solicitous about the defenses on the island. 
 
 The English, ten thousand strong, with an artillery train 
 of forty pieces, took up their line of march on the warm 
 August evening, (26th,) and slowly approached the wooded 
 heights before them. Howe accompanied the right wing 
 commanded by Clinton, Cornwallis, and Percy, and at two 
 o'clock in the morning stood on the summit, and looked 
 down over the plain stretching to Brooklyn. Grant, com- 
 manding the left wing, moved along near the water's edge, 
 toward Gowanus bay, while the old and veteran De Heister, 
 fully restored from the effects of his three months' voyage 
 by liberal potations of hock, led the centre, composed of 
 Hessians, against the redoubts defended by Sullivan in per- 
 son. The centre and left of the army were ordered only to 
 skirmish with the enemy till they heard the guns of Clin- 
 ton on the right, when they were to press to the assault at 
 once, and prevent reinforcements from being concentrated 
 at any single point. With the first sound of artillery, Put- 
 nam sent off reinforcements to support both Sullivan and 
 Stirling. The latter having been ordered to defend the 
 coast road, took position at daybreak, in the hills which now 
 form Greenwood Cemetery. 
 
 In the meantime Clinton had descended from the hills to 
 the Bedford Plains, and opened his fire on Sullivan's left. 
 This was the signal for De Heister, who immediately or- 
 dered Count Donop with his veteran Hessians to storm the 
 redoubt in front, and carry it at the point of the bayonet, 
 while he, with the main body, would advance to his support. 
 
1G2 LIFE OF WASniNGTOx\. 
 
 The battle was in reality already won by Clinton, who now 
 completely outllanked Sullivan. The latter met the on- 
 set in front with his accustomed bravery, and as the 
 Hessians poured, with their wild German war-cry, to the 
 assault, mowed them down "with the steady volleys of his 
 handful of resolute men. But the firing on his flank 
 rapidly advancing nearer, threatened momentarily to cut 
 him off from the lines at Brooklyn, and he reluctantly gave 
 the orders to retreat. His small force however had scarcely 
 reached the foot of the slope on which they had been posted, 
 when they w^ere greeted by the blast of bugles, as the 
 British dragoons came galloi^ing up the road in rear. 
 
 His retreat was now cut off, and he threw himself into a 
 piece of wood for protection. But the loud shouts and 
 gloaming baj^onets of the Hessians as they swarmed through 
 the green foliage, showed that this was no place of shelter, 
 and the now surrounded Americans again emerged into the 
 open field, only to be trampled down by the cavalry, and 
 charged by the infantry, which had completely blocked up 
 the way of escape. Driven again to the woods for shelter, 
 they were bayoneted by the Hessians, who, refusing quar- 
 ter, fought with the ferocity of tigers. Thus backward 
 and forward they were hunted by the hostile ranks, until a 
 portion, maddened into desperation, burst with one fierce 
 effort through the barrier of steel that girdled them, and 
 reached the main army in safety. The remainder, with 
 Sullivan, were taken prisoners. 
 
 All this time Stirling, ignorant how the battle was going, 
 firmly maintained his position against Grant. But Clinton 
 had no sooner disposed of the American left, than he dis- 
 patched Cornwallis across the country to take the former in 
 rear, and execute over again the manoeuvre that had de- 
 stroved vSullivan. This British officer advanced till within 
 a short distance of Stirling, when he fired two cannon shot, 
 the signal before agreed upon for Grant to move to the as- 
 
LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 163 
 
 sault. The latter then gave the order to advance. Pressed 
 in front and rear by an overwhehning force, Stirlmg saw at 
 a glance his desperate position. The only chance of saving 
 any part of his force was, with a small band of resolute 
 men to keep Cornwallis employed, while the main body, 
 fording Gowanus creek lower down, could gain the flank 
 of the enemy and escape to Fort Putnam, on Brooklyn 
 Heights. The tide was fast rising, and what was done 
 must be done quickly. Calling around him a portion of 
 Smallwood's glorious regiment of Marylanders, composed 
 almost entirely of young men of rank and wealth, he 
 hurled them with such terrible impetuosity on the British 
 grenadiers, that the latter recoiled with amazement from 
 the shock. Flushed however with the previous easy vic- 
 tory, and disdaining to yield to a band of undisciplined 
 rebels, they rallied to the attack, and the conflict became 
 close and murderous. But these gallant young men, each 
 one a hero, pressed so sternly and resolutely into the fire, 
 that they bore down all opposition, and for the first time in 
 open combat, rolled back the veterans of England. The 
 steadfast Delawares stood, with their rent colors flying, and 
 let the artillery of Grant plough through them, disdaining 
 to stir till ordered to retire. The fighting here was des- 
 perate. Young Callender, who had been cashiered for 
 cowardice at the Battle of Bunker Hill, and afterward 
 entered the service as a volunteer, seeing the captain and 
 lieutenant of the company of artillery to Avhich he belonged 
 fall, took command, and with the determination to wipe out 
 with his life blood the disgrace that had fallen on him, dis- 
 dained to surrender, fighting his pieces to the last. Even 
 when the British infantry were charging over his guns he 
 never flinched. A British oflicer, struck with admiration 
 at his noble, gallant bearing, knocked up the bayonets al- 
 ready pointed at his heart, and spared his life. Though 
 outnumbered more than three to one, Stirling, with hi3 
 
lot 1,1 l- K O K W ASH I N (I TON. 
 
 Iioixt-lnunl. stt'adily pii.slunl l>:u'k (\)nnv;illis. (ill llu» latlor 
 Nvas luMvilv roinroivi'il. 'V\w o\\\ov to wlu'i'l oil' to the left 
 ami t>si-ajK' ai'ioss t\\c luarsli was tlu'ii i;i\(Mi. A part siio- 
 t'ooiKnl in I'soiipinj;, ami s\\iinuun«; a .small i-ivi'k ivarlu'il 
 Fort I'littiam In saloty. Tlio ivmaiiulor, aiul aiuoii^- tluMu 
 Loixl Stirliiii;". sunxMuliM^Ml tluMiisi'hivs pi-lsi)iuM"s ol' war. 
 
 ^^'ashilll:;ton, as tlu' soiiiul ol' i\\c lioavy cannoiiailinj; 
 brv>ko o\i'r tlu* I'ity, hastiMJoil io i\\c slioro, ami K'apiiii; 
 into a boat juaiuu'il l>y stroni; rowers, was soon on tlio 
 Brooklyn siilo. (iallopini;- np tiie lloi_i;lits, lie cast a hnriioil 
 ^huu'o o\cr tlu» plains hoyond. As ho saw Snllivan com 
 plotoly iMit oil', anil that Slirlinij;, though troni tlu> heavy 
 oannoiKulini;- i>\i(K'ntly still maintaining his ground, nnist 
 soon inovitahly shaix* the late of the lornier, a ery of an- 
 guish hurst from his li[»s. The day was lost heyonil re- 
 demption, and some oi' his noblest trt)ops gone forever. 
 All this lime (Ireene lay tossing on his t't'siMish bed, a \nvy 
 to the most painful anxiety. At length, as the news 
 reaeheil him that Smallwood's — his favorite regiment — was 
 eut io pieces, he groaned aloud, anil bursting into tears, ex- 
 claimed — '' Gracious God, to he confhml ot such a time !'* 
 
 Thus ended the lirst battle bi'tween the army under 
 Washington and the eneniy. Nearly twelve hnndreil men, 
 or a quarter of the entiiv force engaged, had been slain or 
 cajituivd, a portion oi' them the elite of the army. Among 
 the prisoners wimc (a'nerals Sullivan. Stilling, and ^^\)od- 
 hull. It was extraoiilinarv that so many escaped. But the 
 patches oi' wood ami thickly scattered hills furnished con- 
 cealment to a great many di'tached parties, that in a more 
 0|>en field or one better known to theeiUMuy would inevita- 
 bly have been captured. The manivuvre oi' llowe was 
 completely successful, and deserved even a better reward 
 than it ivceived. 
 
 The junction oi^ the various divisions oi' the Ihitish 
 ainiv being efleeted soon after the ilefeat of the Americans. 
 
L J i^ K F W AHii i .'V (f 7 .S' . 1 C7 
 
 tho "whoki H/lvaiif/ii} Uj within bIx \i\m<]i(A yardn of thft 
 workn on I'tf/Mlyn Jfr;ightK. VaXcaUA )fy th^i <^)!y vio't/>ry, 
 t}j'; troop?* (hinuiiidcA Uj Ui led U> the 'dHmalt at ofK;^;. Jf* it 
 ha^l been \)hrm\iUA there I» Jittle (l/>ufit but tFiat the over- 
 whelming nunjUjrH of the Jiritiiih would have prov^l t//) 
 refti.HtJehH for even the strong work>; l/;hind v/hieh Putnara 
 lay. iiut iJowe, ignorant of the for^;^; op[X/»'.-<J t/^ hirn, di/i 
 not v/j>,h t/v /i'.k all he ha/1 finirKid by an un^;ertain, deHj;x> 
 raUi (jn'nf'X, and rx>mrrten^xj^l planting hj« batt/irie«, evidently 
 (Ift'rA'^jnn^^ i/j njlvixncAi by regiikr approa/;he?<. Wa^jhingt/jn, 
 who Wi w'.xU^i<A with the Vj-MnHrX anxiety the r-apid ry>n- 
 centration of the hont l/;fore hinj, with it« long line« of 
 gkarning bayonet/* and heavy trains* of artillery, haw with 
 inexprer;gible delight thi>; det^jrrnination of Jfowe. 7'iine 
 would now be given t/j refi^:^;t up^>»n hin kiUvxiion and de- 
 terrnin/i his cfjunie. If he should re»r^lve t^j fight it out 
 where he waH, he r/^uld bring over rein forf>e men tH ; if f/^ 
 Tf-Ath'^X, he might, by great exer-tionK and skillful manage- 
 ment, ftave j/;rbapH the army. 
 
 That night the Amerir;an« Bkpt but little. WaJthingt/^ri 
 Lad difepatched c^jurier« to General Mifflin, at King^bridge, 
 to hajiten down with a thouiiand rnen. The»fi, s^^x^n aft/;r 
 daylight, were f^^en cror>:ing the river to Wallalx^ut, where 
 they to'jk j/jr:t. The morning fiawned ^iark and glrx^my, 
 and aH Boon as the American work« could be diijtinctly «een, 
 the BritLBh ojxjne^i on them with their heavy gan», and 
 fthortly after, the sharp rattle of muf-ketry was heard an the 
 oatf/jHts came in c^^llii-ion. The heavens f/mtinn^A U> gather 
 bk/;ker and more ftr^rnbre, and soon aftr^r mid-day the r^in 
 came down in t/jrr^jnts. In a short time the fields were 
 flo'^/led, and \)i(ir¥iui^\ a picturef-xjue ix]j]jf^^r4.wy(i, dfjiUy] with 
 the whiUi tf;nts of the enemy, into which they crept i'tjr hh^'A" 
 ter, but the disoourage^l, discomfitz/l patriots ha^l no t/ints or 
 ?^rra^;ki$, and stood drenched to the skin. The night brought 
 impenetrable ^larkness, for a heavy fog slowly settle'! on 
 
168 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 
 
 sea and land, through which broke only the muffled tread 
 or low call of the sentinel. 
 
 Adjutant-General Reed, Mifflin and Colonel Grayson had 
 been sent out during the afternoon to reconnoitre, and just 
 before sunset, as they stood looking seaward, a sudden gust 
 of wind, like a friendly hand, lifted for a moment the fog 
 that lay over the British vessels within the Narrows, and 
 revealed to them boats filled with men, passing from ship 
 to ship, and all the preparations for some great and com- 
 bined movement. The fleet had been directed to act in 
 concert with the land-force, and attacking the batteries on 
 shore, pass up the East river, and so separate the main 
 American army in New York from that of Brooklyn. But 
 the " stars fought against Sisera," for a strong east wind 
 surged all day down the East river, holding back the ships 
 with its unseen hand. 
 
 The movement on board the vessels being reported to 
 Washington, a council of war was called, and it was unani- 
 mously resolved to retreat to New York. The fog that 
 covered the island effectually concealed the movements of 
 the Americans, and at eight o'clock the soldiers were pa- 
 raded, and began their silent march toward the ferry at the 
 foot of Fulton street. But the strong north-easter which had 
 buffeted back the British fleet, was now, w^ith an ebb tide, 
 sending such a furious current seaward that the boats could 
 not be launched. At length, about elevan o'clock, the wind 
 changed to the north-west and blew violently. The troops 
 were then embarked in the fleet of boats prepared for their 
 reception, and passed silently and swiftly from shore to 
 shore. By five o'clock in the morning the whole nine 
 thousand, with all their munitions of war, except the heavy 
 artillery, were safe in New York. Washington stood the 
 long and gusty night on the Brooklyn side, watching de- 
 tachment after detachment disappearing in the gloom, and 
 as the last boat left the land he also stejiped in, and with a 
 
LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 169 
 
 world of care lifted from his heart, crossed over to the city. 
 For nearly forty-eight hours he had not closed his eyes, and 
 been a great part of the time in the saddle, superintending 
 and directing every thing, and exhibited a skill, energy and 
 power seldom witnessed in the oldest and most renowned 
 commanders. 
 
 The battle of Long Island has given rise to much dis- 
 cussion, and various explanations have been offered and 
 excuses rendered of the sad failure. No doubt there would 
 have been more and severe fighting if Greene had been able 
 to hold his command. No doubt Putnam should have looked 
 out for flank movements, but he was good only for fighting, 
 and knew nothing of strategy. No doubt Sullivan should 
 have guarded the Jamaica road, or urged Putnam to do it, 
 but he, too, had yet to learn the duties of a general by hard 
 experience. The excuse that he did not command without 
 the lines is not a valid one for his neglect. The simple 
 truth is the battle should never have been fought, for no 
 precautions could have changed the final result. The 
 enemy were in too strong force for the American army 
 on the Brooklyn side to resist under the most favorable cir- 
 cumstances that could have been anticipated. But to abandon 
 New York without a struggle seemed fraught with evil con- 
 sequences, and it could not be defended by land better than 
 where the stand was made. "Washington, like every other 
 general officer, was compelled to leave many of the details 
 on which a battle turns to the efficiency and energy of his 
 subordinates, so that he is not responsible for the loose way 
 in which the passes were defended. The great error probably 
 lay in the settled conviction that the land attack would be 
 only partial, and the main assault be on the city itself 
 through the fleet. Of course there could be no comparison 
 between the military knowledge and ability of the British 
 and American officers. The former, many of them had had 
 the advantage, not merely of early training, but of large 
 
170 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 
 
 experience in many a tedious campaign, on the continent of 
 Europe, and it would be a miracle if even Washington at 
 the outset, could not be outmanoeuvred by them, when the 
 operations were on an extensive scale. But he was an apt 
 scholar, and one lesson was sufficient for a lifetime, and in 
 the unexpected vicissitudes of war, when tactics had to be 
 made on the spot to meet the exigencies of the case, ho 
 showed how intellect and genius, and an almost infallible 
 judgment, could triumph over obstacles that put at fault the 
 most veteran leaders. 
 
 The effect of this defeat on the American army was most 
 disastrous. Despondency and despair took the place of con- 
 fidence and hope. The hastily collected yeomanry of the 
 colonies had done good battle on Bunker Hill, and considered 
 themselves in fact the victors, and when a regular ap- 
 pointed army, with Washington at its head, should meet the 
 enemy around New York, a glorious triumph was confidently 
 predicted. But in this first battle the superiority of the 
 enemy was made apparent, and just as high as the spirits 
 of the troops had been raised previous to it so low they now 
 sunk. A sudden paralysis seized them, and nothing but 
 murmurings and complaints were heard. The burning de- 
 sire to wipe out the disgrace — the courage rising with in- 
 creasing danger — the stern cheerful rally to the side of 
 their afflicted noble commander, were all wanting. On the 
 contrary the militia grew insubordinate, and there, right in 
 front of the enemy, while his strong columns were gather- 
 ing closer and darker around the city, began to disband and 
 march away to their homes. Nearly whole regiments at a 
 time, half ones, and by companies, they filed away, heed- 
 less of the remonstrances, appeals, and threats of their 
 officers. In the very crisis of affiiirs the whole army 
 threatened to be disorganized. Washington looked around 
 him in dismay, and lost all confidence in his troops. He 
 was not prepared for this wholesale desertion in the hour ot 
 
LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 171 
 
 danger. Inexperience, want of discipline, jealousies, and 
 rivalries, were evils he anticipated. He knew, also, that it 
 would be impossible to keep an efficient army in the field 
 on the short enlistments heretofore practiced, but to be left 
 alone when the fate of the largest city in the colonies was 
 de23ending, was a catastrophe against which no foresight 
 could provide. He wrote to Congress that New York must 
 be abandoned to the enemy, and a council of war was im- 
 mediately called to decide on the course best to be pursued, 
 which came to the same decision. A bombardment was 
 hourly expected, and Washington issued an order for the in- 
 habitants to leave, and soon the roads leading toward Har- 
 Ifiem were crowded with fugitives, while hundreds more were 
 seen hurrying across the river to the Jersey shore. 
 
 In the council of war it was proposed by some to set the 
 city on fire, and thus prevent the British from making it 
 their winter-quarters. General Greene urged this measure, 
 declaring that the Tories would be the chief sufferers, as 
 two-thirds of the property in the town was owned hy them. 
 
 In the meantime the plans of Lord Howe developed 
 slowly. He had requested Congress to appoint a committee 
 to meet him on Staten Island, and consult on some mode 
 of arranging the difficulties between the colonies and mother 
 country. They met, but the views of the two parties dif- 
 fered so completely that all hojDCS of adjustment were 
 iabandoned. Howe then began to push his advances on 
 New York. The whole fleet moved up into the harbor, and 
 soon after frigate after frigate stood up the East river, and 
 on the 15th September, three men-of-war swept past the 
 batteries along the Hudson, and lay-to off" Bloomingdale. 
 It now became apparent that the enemy had no design of 
 bombarding the city, and thus destroy the snug quarters 
 they stood so much in need of, but were about to land above, 
 toward Harlaem, and march down on it from the most 
 unprotected quarter. Washington, penetrating their design, 
 
172 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 
 
 hnrried off his baggage and sick and nine thousand men to 
 Kingsbridge and its vicinity, keeping only live thousand in 
 the cit}^ to act as the exigencies of the case might demand. 
 Detachments in the meantime were scattered along between 
 New York and Harlosm, to protect the batteries and resist 
 the attempts of the British to land. On the same day, at 
 eleven o'clock, General Clinton began to land his troops at 
 Kip's Bay, under the heavy fire of three war vessels. The 
 day before he had taken possession of Montressor's Island, 
 and Washington aware of his intentions, ordered the two 
 brigades under Parsons and Fellows to hasten next morning 
 to the threatened point, while he galloped away to Ilarlsem, 
 where he spent the night. In the forenoon, while busily 
 superintending the works on the Heights, he was startled 
 by the heavy cannonading from the vessels of war, shaking 
 the very ground on which he stood. Instantly vaulting to 
 his saddle he rode swiftly along the road toward Kip's Bay. 
 As he approached he saw to his utter astonishment the men 
 who had been stationed at tlie batteries in full flight, leaving 
 their pieces unmanned, although not seventy of the enemy 
 had effected a landing. Before he could recover from the 
 effect of this shameful spectacle, he beheld the two bri- 
 gades which he had dispatched to the support of the batteries 
 also in full retreat, despite the threats and commands of 
 their officers. Such utter poltroonery, coming as it did on 
 the top of all he had undergone from his faitliless troops, 
 and placing in such imminent peril Putnam with his five 
 thousand troops, proved too much for his self-command, and 
 that strong soul for once burst the restraints with whicli he 
 had bound it. Dashing into the midst of the fugitives he 
 bade them in a voice of thunder halt. But they in their 
 panic did not hear him, or if they did paid no attention to 
 his commands, and dividhig around his horse streamed 
 wildly on. Enraged beyond all control, he denounced them 
 with a fciirful oath as cowards, and drawing his pistols snap- 
 
LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 173 
 
 ped them in their faces, and cut at the nearest with his 
 sword. Finding all his efforts vain, and filled with 
 ungovernable rage, he dashed his chapeau to the ground 
 and wheeled all alone full on the advancing enemy, ap- 
 parently determined in that terrible paroxysm of passion 
 and of scorn not to survive the disgrace of his army. One of 
 his aids, however, advancing seized the bridle of his horse 
 and turned him back. The hurricane had passed, and Wash- 
 ington was himself again. The stern indignation, however, 
 at such conduct did not so soon subside, and five days after, 
 in the order of the day, he said, " Any soldier or officer 
 who upon the approach or attack of the enemy's forces by 
 land or water, shall presume to turn his back and flee, shall be 
 instantly shot down, and all good officers are hereby authorized 
 and required to see this done, that the brave and gallant part of 
 the army may not fall a sacrifice to the base and cowardly part, 
 nor share their disgrace in a cowardly and unmanly retreat. ^^ 
 
 This terrific outburst sheds a world of light on Wash- 
 ington's character, and instead of depreciating it invests it 
 with tenfold interest, and exhibits in a more striking man- 
 ner the transcendent qualities he possessed. This and on^ 
 or two similar incidents in his life are avoided by his biogra- 
 phers, or merely touched upon, as though it were a pity to 
 speak of them at all, and common charity required them to 
 be concealed as much as possible. They even feel indigna- 
 tion toward those who give them prominence, as though a 
 personal attack were made on the " Father of his Coun- 
 try." These men are wiser than their Maker, who does 
 not hesitate to record the single rash act of Moses, who in 
 his rage dashed the tables of the law to the earth, or the 
 sinful conduct of David, the chosen of Heaven, or the 
 quarrel of the Apostles. They forget that a human charac- 
 ter is grand and exalted only as it overcomes evil, and the 
 more difficult the victory the greater the glory. But for 
 such, terrible outbursts as this we should never have known 
 
 10 
 
174 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 
 
 what a volcano Washington carried in his bosom, and hence 
 been ignorant of the marvelous strength of character, and 
 the religious principle which kept down its fires. His eulo- 
 gists seem to think that the more unexcitable and passion- 
 less they make him, the more perfect he is, forgetting that 
 moral character is not an endowment, but the result of effort 
 and education, and that a man who is naturally impetuous 
 deserves just as much credit for being hasty, as one who is 
 naturally quiet and immobile for being placid and unrufllcd. 
 It is the man who "ruleth his spirit that is greater than he 
 that taketh a city," not one who has no spirit to rule. , It 
 is the knowledge of Washington's inflammable, passionate 
 nature, contrasted with his conduct under the severest trials 
 long continued, under injustice, suspicion, neglect, desertion, 
 abuse, discomfiture, and defeat, that makes us regard him 
 witli unbounded admiration and astonishment. It is his 
 amazing self-control that fills us ever with fresh wonder, 
 and yet had he been born witli a phlegmatic, equable tem- 
 per, his serenity would have been no proof of this. It is 
 the arm which holds back the torrent that exhibits strength, 
 not that which rests unmoved in the tranquil pool. 
 
 The moment Washington saw the British had effected a 
 landing, he dispatched an aid to General Putnam in the city 
 with orders to fiill back with his division, as speedily as possi- 
 ble to Harlfcm Heights. Putnam immediately put his brigade 
 in motion, followed by a motley multitude of women and 
 children, with loads of baggage and utensils, hurrj^ing on 
 with 1 )ud cries after the retiring columns. It was a hot 
 sultry day, and under the burning sun and clouds of dust 
 kicked up by the advance regiments, the soldiers, many of 
 them, sunk exhausted by the road-side, and fell into tlie 
 hands of the enemy. Not a moment was to be lost. Clin- 
 ton had already possession of the main road along the East 
 river, so that Putnam was compelled to take the Blooming- 
 dale road, across which the three frigates that had passed up 
 
LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 177 
 
 the Hudson could throw their heavy metal . The disgrace- 
 ful flight at Ki^D's Bay had allowed the British to gain so 
 much time in landing, that to all human appearance they 
 could stretch a cordon entirely across the island, before 
 Putnam could reach Bloomingdale, and Washington looked 
 upon him and his entire division as lost. Putnam thought 
 so too, but determined not to despair so long as a ray of 
 hope remained, and hurried on his flagging columns with 
 all the energy he possessed. Riding from front to rear to 
 encourage, to stimulate, and to threaten, he galloped back- 
 ward and forward under the burning sun, his horse covered 
 with foam and dust, and every lineament of his bold rough 
 face revealing the intense anxiety under which he labored. 
 A Quaker lady, named Murray, occupied at that time Mur- 
 ray Hill, and he sent to her to delay by her hospitality as 
 long as possible, Sir Henry Clinton. As the latter, with his 
 staff, passed the house on his way to the Bloomingdale road, 
 this patriotic lady accosted him and cordially invited him to 
 stop and take a glass of wine. The cool refreshments which 
 followed, were most acceptable to the British oflicers, and she 
 detained them by her courtesies till her negro servant, who 
 had been stationed on the top of the house to watch the 
 American army, returned and made the sign agreed upon, to 
 indicate it was beyond danger. A portion of the British 
 troops had struck it at right angles, and a severe skirmish 
 followed, in which fifteen Americans were killed, and two 
 or three hundred taken prisoners, but the mayi body had 
 barely slipped by, the enemy's line closing behind them as 
 they passed. When Clinton emerged from Mrs. Murray's 
 house, he saw, to his utter mortification, the American ban 
 ners fluttering far in advance, pointing proudly toward the 
 heights on which was drawn up the rebel forces. As dark- 
 ness shut in the scene, the weary column wound up the 
 slope, and was received with shouts by the whole army, 
 while Washington did not attempt to conceal his delight at 
 
178 LIFE OF WASriINGTOiV. 
 
 the energy and skill with which Putnam had brought off 
 his troops*. In the meantime the wliole British army ad- 
 vanced, and at night encamped near the American works — 
 their lines stretching from river to river, and supported at 
 each extremity by ships of war. Thus passed the night of 
 the fifteenth of September. When the morning drum, roll- 
 ing from river to river, awoke the two armies, Lord Howe 
 turned his glass long and anxiously on the American works. 
 Notwithstandmg the easy victories he had obtained, he hesi- 
 tated to attack a position so well chosen, and defended as 
 the one before him. Washington, irritated at the moral 
 effect produced on both armies by the dastardly conduct of 
 his troops, was anxious to remove it, if possible, and re- 
 solved to attack any detachments that the enemy might 
 send forward. During the day several parties appeared on 
 the plain between the two armies, and a skirmish followed. 
 This was no sooner reported to Washington, than he has- 
 tened to the outposts to ascertain the number and purpose 
 of the enemy. While he was examining them, Colonel 
 Knowlton came in and reported their number about three 
 hundred. Washington immediately ordered him with his 
 rangers, aided by Major Leitch, with three companies of 
 Virginians, to attempt to gain their rear and cut them off. 
 At the same time he directed a false attack to be made in 
 front, to distract their attention from the real point of dan- 
 ger. The British detachment seeing the party approaching 
 in front, retired to a cover of bushes and a fence. Knowl- 
 ton, ignorant of this change of position, instead of gaining 
 their rear as he expected, came suddenly on them in flank. 
 Major Leitch immediately advanced gallantly to the attack, 
 but fell pierced with three balls; Knowlton, hastening to his 
 support, was also shot down. The troops, however, pressed 
 fiercely on, and a reinforcement coming up, charged home 
 so resolutely, that the enemy broke their cover and tied to 
 the open plain. Washington fearing that the British would 
 
LIFE OF WASHINGTON 179 
 
 send out a large reinforcement,, ordered the bugles to sound 
 a recall, and the gallant detachment retired to their posts 
 with the loss of sixty killed and wounded. The British 
 acknowledged ninety killed and wounded. The death of 
 Colonel Knowlton, however, made the balance of loss heavy 
 against the Americans. He was one of Putnam's best offi- 
 cers. He had entered service when but sixteen years old, 
 and been with Putnam in some of his hardest battles during 
 the French war, and was among the first to rally to his old 
 leader's side, after the skirmish at Lexington. He fought 
 gallantly at Bunker Hill and Long Island, and was an officer 
 of great promise. He fell at the age of thirty-six, on the 
 threshold of that great struggle to which he would have 
 given a clear head and a fearless heart. In his order the 
 next day, Washington called him *' the gallant and brave 
 Knowlton, who would have been an honor to any country." 
 
 No one will ever know what he suffered during his retreat 
 from New York up the Island. The embarrassments that 
 overwhelmed him at every turn were enough in themselves 
 to crush a commander, but when to all those was superadded 
 utter want of confidence in his troops, there was nothing 
 left on which to fall back. Disasters he could endure, but 
 with soldiers he dared not trust in battle, no matter how in- 
 ferior the enemy might be in force, that run away from even 
 the sound of cannon, he was left utterly desolate. In a 
 letter to his brother, speaking of the anguish that weighed 
 him down at this time, he said he would not again undergo 
 what he had suffered during those few days for a quarter of 
 a million of dollars. The troops not only became cowards, 
 but robbers, and under pretence of plundering the Tories, 
 committed violence on the inhabitants indiscriminately. 
 Thirty-nine lashes being the extent of the punishment 
 allowed by the orders of Congress, the culprits treated it with 
 contempt. 
 
 Howe was anxious to bring on a general engagement 
 
180 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 
 
 without assaulting the Americans beliind their works. 
 Washington, having no confidence in the mass of his troops, 
 was equally determined not to gratify him, and the two 
 armies lay idly looking upon each other for three weeks. 
 Washington, however, improved the time in strengthening 
 his position. At length Howe determined to make another 
 effort to gain the American rear, and sending three vessels 
 of war up the Hudson, which passed the batteries on shore 
 and obstructions in the channel with but little damage, he 
 embarked his troops in flat-bottomed boats, on the East 
 river, and sailing through Hell Gate, landed on Throg's 
 Neck. Remaining here five days, he reiimbarked, and 
 landing at Pell's Point, marched to the high grounds near 
 New Rochelle. 
 
 The next morning Washington, who had been kept 
 strangely ignorant of the roads and topography oT the coun- 
 try to which the movements of the armies had been trans- 
 ferred, sent out Colonel Reed, and Rufus Putnam engineer 
 in chief, with a foot guard of tw<2nty men, to reconnoitre. 
 Arriving on the heights of East Chester, they saw a small 
 body of British, but could obtain no intelligence — the houses 
 beinrr: all deserted. Colonel Reed here said he must return 
 to attend to issuing general orders. Putnam replied that as 
 yet they had made no discovery of consequence, and that 
 if he went back he had better take the guard with him. As 
 for himself, he was determined to proceed, and preferred to 
 go alone. Putnam thus relates what followed, which I 
 transcribe from his manuscript journal, as it throws new 
 light on this portion of the campaign. 
 
 " I then disguised my appearance as an officer as far as I 
 could, and set out on the road to White Plains. However, I 
 did not then know where Wliite Plains was, nor where the 
 road I had taken would carry me. I had gone about a mile 
 and a half when a road turned off to the right; I followed it 
 perhaps hj If a mile and came to a house where, I learned from 
 
LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 181 
 
 a woman that the road led to New Rochelle, that the British 
 were there, and that thej had a guard at a house in sight. 
 On this information I turned and pursued my route towards 
 White Plains, (the houses on the way all deserted,) until I 
 came within three or four miles of the place. Here I dis- 
 covered a house a little ahead, with men about it. By my 
 glass I found they were not British soldiers. However, I ap- 
 proached them with caution. I called for some oats for my 
 horse, sat down and heard them chat some little time, when I 
 found they were friends to the cause of America, and then 
 I began to make the necessary inquiries, and on the whole 
 I found that the main body of the British lay at New Ro- 
 chelle — from thence to White Plains about nine miles — 
 good roads and in general level open country — that at White 
 Plains was a large quantity of stores, with only about three 
 hundred militia to guard them — that the British had a de- 
 tachment at Mamaroneck, only six miles from White Plains, 
 and White Plains only five miles from the North river, 
 where lay five or six of the enemy's ships and sloops, ten- 
 ders, &c. 
 
 " Having made these discoveries, I set out on my re- 
 turn — the road across the Bronx was my intended route, 
 unless I found the British there, which haply they were not. 
 But I found Americans on the heights west of the Bronx, 
 who had arrived there after I passed up. I found it to 
 be Lord Stirling's division. It was now after sunset. I 
 gave my lord a short account of my discoveries, took some 
 refreshments, and set off for head-quarters, by the way of 
 Philips' at the mouth of Saw-Mill river, a road I had never 
 traveled. Among tory inhabitants and in the night, I dare 
 not inquire the way — but providence conducted me. I ar- 
 rived at head-quarters, near Kingsbridge, (a distance of 
 about ten miles,) about nine o'clock at night. I found the 
 General alone, and reported to him the discoveries I had 
 made, with a sketch of the country. He complained very 
 
182 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 
 
 feelingly of the gentlemen from New York, from whom he 
 had never been able to obtain a plan of the country, and 
 said that from their information he had ordered the stores 
 to White Plains as a place of securitj*. The General then 
 sent for General Greene and General George Clinton. As 
 soon as General Clinton came in, my sketch and statement 
 was shown to him, and he was asked if the situation of 
 those places was as I had reported. General Clinton said 
 they were. I had but a short time to refresh myself and 
 horse, when I received a letter from the General with orders 
 to proceed immediately to Lord Stirling's. I arrived at his 
 quarters about two o'clock in the morning, Oct. 21st, 1776. 
 Lord Stirling's division marched before daylight, and we 
 arrived at White Plains about nine o'clock, A. M., and thus 
 was the American army saved by an interposing providence from 
 a probable total destruction. I may be asked wherein this par- 
 ticular interposition of providence appears ; I answer, first, 
 in the stupidity of the British General, in that he did not 
 early in the morning of the 20tli send a detachment and 
 take possession of the post and stores at White Plains, for 
 had he done this, we must then have fought him on his own 
 terms., and such disadvantageous terms on our part as hu- 
 manly speaking, must have proved our overthrow. Again, 
 when I parted with Colonel Reed on the 20tli, as before 
 mentioned, I have always thought I was moved to so haz- 
 ardous an undertaking hy foreign influence. On my route 
 I was liable to meet with some British or Tory parties who 
 probably Avould have made me a prisoner, (as I had no 
 knowledge of any way of escape across the Bronx except 
 the one I came out.) Hence I was induced to disguise my- 
 self by taking out my cockade, looping my hat, and secret- 
 ing my sword and pistols under my loose coat. Had I 
 been taken under this disguise, the probabihty is I should 
 have been hanged for a spy." 
 
 In these few words the religious character of the leaders 
 
LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 183 
 
 of the revolution appears in a striking light. The cause in 
 which they are embarked is a holy one — it is under God's 
 protection, and to his interference is ascribed every de- 
 liverance from threatened destruction. Like Pharaoh of 
 old the heart of the British General was made stupid, so 
 that he should not destroy the chosen of the Lord ; while he, 
 the chief engineer of the army, refers to the same divine 
 source the promptings which made him under the circum- 
 stances go forward alone, and ascertain the locality of the 
 foe, and the topography of the country. 
 
 As a matter of history it certainly possesses great interest. 
 With the British army at White Plains, commanding the 
 roads to New Rochelle and both rivers, and only five miles 
 between him and the North river, it is clear as noonday 
 that Washington could not have got into the interior. Shut 
 up on the north and south, and shut up by ships of war in 
 both rivers, not a resource would have been left him but to 
 risk all in a pitched battle, and that too not in an open 
 field, but on heights, which gave his enemy a three-fold 
 advantage. The result of such a battle does not admit of a 
 doubt — the American army would have been captured and 
 the struggle ended. No wonder Putnam saw a providence 
 in all this. 
 
 Washington, now thoroughly alive to the dangers which 
 threatened him, immediately crossed Kingsbridge, and occu- 
 pying the heights on the west side of the river Bronx, ex- 
 tended a line of intrenched camps to White Plains, thus 
 rendering it impossible for the British commander to out- 
 flank him. The intrenchments ran in parallel lines about 
 four hundred yards apart, and terminated at a small lake. 
 
 Howe, at length on the 29th, began to move across the 
 country, evidently determined to make a general assault on 
 the American lines, and carry their intrenchments by storm. 
 From the heights he occupied, Washington could see them 
 in eight massive columns, reddening the yellow wheat fields 
 
184 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 
 
 • 
 
 with their scarlet uniforms, while groups of officers collected 
 here and there betokened earnest consultation as to the best 
 method of attack. Their progress was slow, for the fields 
 were intersected with rough stone walls, which had to be 
 pulled down to make way for the heavy artillery, that could 
 with difficulty be got over the uneven ground. Besides, 
 skirmishing parties took advantage of these walls and 
 clumps of bushes to annoy the advance detachments of the 
 British, and prevent them from clearing a path for the 
 artillery. Slowly, however, and steadily the heavy columns 
 swept on, while Washington, no longer placing any reliance 
 on the militia, awaited with much misgiving and apprehen- 
 sion the final shock. 
 
 At this critical juncture, Howe, paused in his march to 
 carry Chatterton's Hill, on which M'Dougall had been placed 
 with fifteen hundred men, assisted by Alexander Hamilton. 
 This hill was separated from the main army by the Bronx, 
 which flowed in front of the American lines. The stream 
 however was fordable here, so that the brigade could easily 
 fall back on the main body. When the artillery got within 
 range, Howe opened at once with twelve or fifteen pieces, 
 whose echoes rolled like thunder along the heights, carry- 
 ing consternation to the hearts of the militia. A ball having 
 struck a soldier in the thigh, mangling him badly, the whole 
 regiment turned and fled. Colonel Haslet could not induce 
 his troops to drag forward the field pieces, so as to sweep 
 the ascending columns. Only one was manned, and this so 
 poorly that the colonel was compelled to seize the drag-ropes 
 himself. As they were trundling it slowly to the front, one 
 of the enemy's balls struck the carriage, scattering the 
 . shot in every direction and setting fire to a wad of tow. 
 In an instant the piece was abandoned in terror. Only 
 one man had the courage to remain and tread out the fire 
 and collect the shot. By dint of great exertion the colonel 
 was able to fire a couple of shots, when the men ran away, 
 
SCENE AT STOCKBRIDGE ON RECEIVING NEWS OF THE BATTLE OP LEXINGTON. 
 
LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 187 
 
 dragging their single cannon after them. Hamilton, how- 
 ever, with two guns in battery, coolly swept the slope, car- 
 rying away whole jDlatoons that attempted to ascend. But 
 the militia most of them soon disappeared, leaving M'Dou- 
 gall with only six hundred to sustain the unequal conflict. 
 This he did for an hour, and then slowly and in good order, 
 carrying his artillery and baggage with' him, retreated 
 across the Bronx and took post within the lines. The 
 whole British force, thirteen thousand strong, now drew up 
 within long cannon shot of the American works, and an 
 immediate assault was expected. All night long the 
 soldiers stood to their arms, awaiting the order to advance. 
 At length the long wished for October morning dawned, 
 when Howe with his glass examined critically the American 
 intrenchments. They seemed so formidable and the posi- 
 tion so admirably chosen, that he concluded to defer the 
 attack till the arrival of Lord Percy, already on his way 
 with reinforcements. Providence here interfered asain for 
 the salvation of the American army. Those formidable 
 breastworks, which reminded Lord Howe of Bunker Hill 
 and Dorchester Heights, were the merest sham, being com- 
 posed of nothing but corn stalks covered with sods and a 
 little loose earth, which his artillery would have scattered 
 like a bank of autumnal foliage. Had he advanced directly 
 on them, instead of stopping to carry the really strong posi- 
 tion of Chatterton's Hill, he would without doubt have de- 
 feated the American army. Instead of this he had brought 
 on only a partial battle, with the loss of some three or 
 four hundred on either side. 
 
 At length, on the evening of the 30th, Lord Percy arrived 
 with four battalions, and Howe resolved to storm the Ameri- 
 can works early in the morning. Washington, apprised of 
 the arrival of this heavy reinforcement, determined at once 
 to abandon his position and retire farther toward the High- 
 lands. But a heavy storm of wind and rain set in that 
 
188 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 
 
 night and contiiiued all next day and evening, suspending 
 the operations of both armies. Anticipating the necessity 
 of a further retreat, Washington had cast up intrenchments 
 upon the heights of North Castle, near the Croton river, and 
 on the night of the 31st, while the English host was wrapt 
 in slumber, and the fragmentary clouds were sweepuig 
 darkly over the Highlands, through which the north-west 
 wind rushed with the roar of the sea, cautiously led his 
 untrained bands out of the encampment. Some one had 
 set fire to the village of White Plains, and while the flames, 
 fanned by the fierce blast, wrapped the dwellings and 
 church, and shed a lurid light over the landscape, Washing- 
 ton was rapidly defiling over the broken country, and by 
 morning was snug in his new position, which looked down a 
 hundred feet on the Bronx below. 
 
 After a careful examination of the new position occupied 
 by Washington, Howe concluded not to attack him, but 
 return to New York and push his operations in another 
 quarter. During Washington's retreat Fort Washington had 
 been left far in the rear, and was now completely cut off 
 from the main army. Colonel Magaw commanded here, 
 and began to make the best preparations in his power for 
 defense. Washington considering the fort no longer tena- 
 ble urged the necessity of evacuating it at once. But in a 
 full council of war it was decided best to defend the place, 
 and although Washington as commander-in-chief had power 
 to overrule this decision, he was unwilling to incur the 
 responsibility of doing so, especially as future results, what- 
 ever they might be, could in no way prove that he had 
 acted discreetly. Had things been reversed, and he been 
 in favor of holding the fort, and when the council opposed 
 it, overruled their decision, then the fate of the fort M'ould 
 have shown whether his judgment was correct or not. 
 Greene, in whom he had great confidence, was placed in 
 command of the troops in that quarter, and he unhesita- 
 
LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 189 
 
 tingly declared that the fort could and should be held. 
 Washington therefore left the whole matter discretionary 
 with him, though clearly expressing his opinion about it. 
 
 In the meantime, while the British army were closing 
 around this place, Washington saw that after its fall the 
 next move would in all probability be against New Jersey, 
 and, if successful, end in an attack on PhiladeljDhia. He 
 therefore ordered five thousand men to assemble at Hack- 
 ensack, to be under his immediate command, while he sepa- 
 rated the other portion of the army into two divisions — 
 one under Heath to occupy both sides of the river in the 
 Highlands and defend its passes — the other, four thousand 
 strong, under Lee, to keep the camp near White Plains, 
 and to act as circumstances might demand. Washington 
 having visited the posts in the Highlands, hastened to Hack- 
 ensack, where his troops, after a circuitous march of sixty 
 miles, had assembled. Filled with anxiety for the fate of 
 the garrison in Fort Washington, he hurried back to Fort 
 Lee, nearly opposite on the Jersey shore, to ascertain how 
 matters stood. It was late at night when he arrived, but 
 leaping into a boat he ordered the rowers to pull him across 
 to the American works. When part way over he met a 
 boat containing Putnam and Greene returning, who reported 
 the garrison in high spirits and fully able to defend the fort. 
 Washington, though still unconvinced, returned with them. 
 The next morning the British under Knyphausen, Lord 
 Percy, Colonels Rail and Stirling, advanced against the fort 
 on three different sides at once, and though Haulings arid 
 Cadwallader fought like lions, yet the overpowering numbers 
 of the enemy broke down all resistance, and their ascending 
 shouts, and the steadily advancing volleys, soon showed that 
 the day was lost to the Americans. Washington, from Fort 
 Lee, surrounded by his officers and with Tom Paine by his 
 side, stood and watched through his glass the swiftly march- 
 ing columns. To the eager inquiries of how the battle was 
 
190 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 
 
 going he only turned gloomily away, and requesting Greene 
 and Putnam to accompany him, leaped into a boat and 
 crossing over ascended the heights to Morris' house, where 
 with painful apprehension he scanned more narrowly the 
 movements of the enemy. While watching Cadwallader 
 slowly retreating along the road nearest the Hudson, fight- 
 ing desperately as he retired, he saw Col. Stirling advancing 
 swiftly across where One Hundred and Fifty-Fifth street 
 now is, to assail him in flank. Knowing that the troops would 
 soon be all driven within the ramparts of the fort, and the 
 whole surrounding country in possession of the British, he 
 hastened to his boat and recrossed to Fort Lee. In fifteen 
 minutes after he and Greene and Putnam had left Morris' 
 house the British troops were pouring mto it. Arriving at 
 Fort Lee he dispatched a messenger to Magaw, promising 
 if he would hold out till night he would bring him and the 
 garrison off. The promise came too late, the British troops 
 were already inundatmg the outer works, and further re- 
 sistance could end only in a massacre. To Howe's second 
 summons to surrender, therefore, Magaw hauled down his 
 flag. Washington from morning till noon had gazed with 
 a palpitating heart on that height, and whenever the wind 
 for a moment swept away the smoke that curtained it in, 
 and revealed the flag of freedom still flying, hope would 
 revive in spite of the dark aspect affairs were assuming. 
 But at length as the firing ceased he with an exclamation 
 of anguish saw that banner come down, and the British 
 colors go up in its place. The incessant volleys and explo- 
 sions of artillery had died away, and in their place loud 
 hurras of the victorious enemy rung over the water. Al- 
 tliough only about fifty had been killed, nearly three thou- 
 sand were taken prisoners. This was the severest blow 
 that had yet fiiUen on the American army, and crushed for 
 a time the hopes of the country, Lee, when he heard of 
 it, wrote to Washington — " Oh general ! why would you be 
 
LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 191 
 
 overpersuaded bj men of inferior judgment to your own ? 
 It was a cursed affair ?" It was a bad affair enough, and 
 great blame rested on the shoulders of Putnam and Greene, 
 especially on those of the latter. He commanded there, 
 and was supposed to know all about the locality and its 
 capabilities of defense. Greene was a young officer, and 
 wholly inexperienced in the art of war. He exfoliated 
 rapidly into an accomplished officer, and here learned a sad 
 but important lesson — that by skillful manoeuvres a battle 
 may really be gained before a shot is fired. The belief that 
 Fort Washington, under the circumstances, could be held, 
 was a delusion. Its fall rendered the longer occupation of 
 Fort Lee impossible, and Washington ordered it to be im- 
 mediately evacuated, and the troops that occupied it to join 
 the army assembled at Hackensack. 
 
LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 
 
 CHAPTER Vn. 
 
 Retreat of Washington through the Jerseys — Disorganization of his Army — Finally 
 takes post beyond the Delaware, near Trenton — Unaccountable apath}- of the 
 Enemy — Washington takes advantage of it — Reorganization of the Army — Wash- 
 ington resolves to march on Trenton — Passage of the river — The Attack — The 
 Victory — March on Princeton — Astonishment of Cornwallis — Death of Colonel 
 Rahl— The effect of the Victory upon the Country — Poverty of the Army — 
 Robert Morris, the noble Financier. 
 
 In the meantime, Howe pushing up with spirit the ad- 
 vantage he had gained with six thousand men, crossed the 
 Hudson six miles above Fort Lee, and moved rapidly down 
 upon it. Cornwallis, who had command of this division, 
 pressed forward with such vigor that Washington was com- 
 pelled to leave behind all his heavy cannon, three hundred 
 tents, baggage, provisions, and stores of all kind. The 
 Jersey shore being entirely commanded by the British men- 
 of-war, from which troops could be landed at any time, 
 Washington with his desponding, almost disorganized army, 
 drew off toward the Delaware. The militia, wholly dis- 
 pirited, deserted in large numbers — even the regulars stole 
 away, so that Washington soon had but little over three 
 thousand men with whom to oppose twenty thousand. He 
 had nothing that could be dignified with the name of 
 cavalry, while the enemy was well supplied, and could over- 
 run the whole flat (iountry through which his coui-se now 
 lay. In the meantime the inhabitants, despairing of the 
 success of the American cause, began to look toward the 
 British for protection. An insurrection was breeding in 
 Monmouth, to quell which Washington was compelled to 
 detach a portion of his troops. The Tories took heart, 
 and fell without fear on those who remained true to the 
 cause of freedom. Encouraged by this state of feeling 
 among the inhabitants, the two Howes issued a proclama- 
 
LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 193 
 
 tion, in which j^ardon was promised to all offenders who 
 would within sixty days submit themselves to the royal 
 authority. Multitudes obeyed, and with an army falling to 
 pieces through its own demoralized state, in the midst of a 
 disaffected population, pressed by an overwhelming victo- 
 rious army, Washington saw a night closing around him, 
 through the blackness of which not a single ray shot its 
 cheering light. But it was in such circumstances as these 
 that the true grandeur of his character appears. Superior 
 to the contagion of example, he neither doubts nor falters. 
 Kising loftier as others sink in despair, moving serener the 
 greater the agitation becomes around him, he exhibits a 
 reserve power equal to any emergency — a steadfastness of 
 soul that nothing earthly can shake. 
 
 He immediately ordered Lee, by forced marches, to join 
 him ; sent to General Schuyler to forward him troops from 
 the frontiers of Canada ; called on Pennsylvania to assem- 
 ble her militia if she would save Philadelphia, and on the 
 governor of New Jersey, to furnish him with troops, if he 
 would not see the entire province swept by the enemy. 
 But the country was paralyzed, and with his feeble band he 
 continued to retire before the enemy. Lee, intent on deliver- 
 ing some bold stroke of his own, and thus eclipse Washing- 
 ton, whom the provinces began to susj^cct of inefficiency, 
 refused to obey the orders of his commander, and finally, a 
 victim to his own folly, fell into the hands of the enemy, 
 thus adding another to the list of calamities, for the coun- 
 try had placed great reliance in his skill and experience as 
 a general. 
 
 Driven from the Hackensack, Washington took post 
 behind the Aqukannunk. Pressed hotly by Cornwallis, he 
 was compelled to abandon this position also, and retiring 
 along the Raritan halted at New Brunswick. Here the 
 Maryland and New Jersey troops declared the time of their 
 enlistment had expired, and shouldering their muskets, left 
 
 11 
 
194 LIFE OF WASIIIXGTOX. 
 
 the camp in a body. Their departure sliook the rest' of 
 the army, and it required all of Washington's efforts to pre- 
 vent it from disbanding whollj^ Unable to offer any 
 resistance, he retreated to Trenton. Here, receivinir a re- 
 inforcement of two thousand men from Philadelphia, he 
 began to assume the offensive ; but finding Cornwallis ad- 
 vancing in several columns, so as to cut off his retreat, he 
 crossed, on the 8th of December, 1776, to the right bank 
 of the Delaware, destroying all the bridges and boats after 
 him. Here he sat down knowing it was the last stand that 
 could be made between the enemy and Philadelphia. 
 
 The English general taking up his head-quarters at Tren- 
 ton extended his army up and down the river, but made no 
 serious demonstrations to cross. He neither collected boats, 
 nor materials for bridges, nor attempted to pass by means 
 of rafts. A sudden and unaccomitable apathy seemed to 
 have seized him, and the energy with which, since the 
 taking of Fort Washington, he had pressed the American 
 army, and which threatened to crush the rebellion at once, 
 deserted him. Nothing was easier than to ford the river 
 and seize Philadelj^hia, and compel Washington to carry out 
 his sublime purpose, " retreat, if necessary, heijond the Alle- 
 ghanies.^' 
 
 The delay of the British here enabled Washington to 
 strengthen his army. He sent Mifflin and Armstrong 
 through Pennsylvania, rousing t\io patriotic citizens to arms. 
 Sullivan joined him with Lee's division, and Gates arrived 
 with four regiments from Ticonderoga. Still the prospect 
 was inexpressibly gloomy. Rhode Island, Long Island, 
 New York, nearly all the Jerseys, had one after another 
 fallen into the hands of the enemy, and nothing seemed 
 able to resist his victorious march. 
 
 The reinforcements, however, that had come in encouraged 
 Washington in the hope that he might yet strike a blow 
 which, if it did not seriously embarrass his adversaries, 
 
LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 195 
 
 would nevertheless rekindle hope throughout the country. 
 Although the force under him was inadequate to any great 
 moveni,pnt, something must be done before the winter shut 
 in, or spring would find Congress without an army, and the 
 American cause without defenders. The British were waiting 
 only for cold weather to bridge the Delaware with ice, when 
 they would cross ; and, crushing all opposition by their 
 superior force, march down on Philadelphia. Though the 
 heavens grew dark around Washington, and fear and de- 
 spondency weighed down the firmest hearts, his sublime 
 faith in God and the right never shook, and even in this 
 hour of trial and of gloom he lifted his voice of encourage- 
 ment, declaring he saw the morning beyond it all. He sent 
 Putnam to Philadelphia to erect defenses, behind which the 
 army might, if driven back from the Delaware, make a 
 desperate stand for the city. 
 
 In the meantime the reorganization of the army on the 
 plan adopted by a Committee of Congress and Washington 
 at Harlcem Heights, was carried forward.* Congress, how- 
 ever, at this time retired in affright to Baltimore, and the 
 Tories of Philadelphia, embracing nearly all the Quakers, 
 taking courage, rendered Putnam's situation precarious. 
 
 While trouble and uncertainty pervaded both Congress 
 and the army, Lord Howe, having resigned the command to 
 Cornwallis, retired to New York, where he remained tran- 
 quil, in the full belief that an easy victory awaited him. The 
 latter officer having lost all fear of the American troops, 
 stretched his army in a chain of cantonments, from Trenton 
 to Burlington, and also retired to the snugger quarters of 
 New York. Colonel Rahl, with fifteen hundred men, was 
 
 * Bj this plan all the continental troops were to constitute one grand army of 
 eighty battalions, in all sixty thousand men. To induce enlistments during the 
 war a bounty of twenty dollars was offered, together with a section of land, to be 
 given at the close to the survivors, or to the family of him who had fallen. The 
 amount was in proportion to the grade, advancing from one hundred acres, the sharo 
 of a common soldier, to five hundred, that of a colonel. 
 
196 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 
 
 stationed at Trenton ; Count DonojD occui)ied Bordcntown 
 >vith a brigade of Hessians, -while still lower down, and 
 within twenty miles of Philadelphia, lay another corjDS. 
 Other portions were quartered at Amboy, Brunswick, and 
 Princeton. This was the position of aflliirs as the cold 
 blasts and heavy frosts of the latter part of December began 
 to gather the ice on the Delaware, promising soon to con- 
 struct a solid bridge, over which the victorious enemy could 
 march without resistance. The x\merican army, thinly 
 clad, poorl}^ fed, and worse housed, presented a soriy specta- 
 cle as it paraded on the frozen ground, amid the drifting 
 snow-storm. The bands of music, failed to stir into enthu- 
 siiism the blood of those who could see no morning beyond 
 the night that enveloped them. The Tories were in high 
 spirits, and the jxitriots correspondingly downcast and de- 
 pi-essed. 
 
 Washington, firmly resolved to smite his over-confident 
 adversary, if fortune would give but the faintest promise of 
 success, carefully scrutinized every position, and pondered 
 well every plan suggested to his mind. The fiery Stark 
 remarked to him one day, " You have depended a long time 
 on spades and 2:>ickaxes, but if you ever wish to establish 
 the independence of the country, you must rely on fire- 
 arms." " That," replied Washington, "is what I am going to 
 do. To-morrow we march on Trenton, and I have appointed 
 you to command the advance-guard of the left wing." lie 
 had resolved to cross the Delaware at night, and surprise 
 the Hessians at Trenton. Christmas Eve was fixed upon 
 for tljc expedition, because he knew this to be a time of 
 carnival among the German troops, and hoped to fall upon 
 them overcome with wine and sleep. The Pennsylvania 
 militia, under Cadwallader and Ewing, the former stationed 
 at Bristol, opposite the corps at Bordcntown, and the latter 
 just below Trenton, were ordered to croski at the same time, 
 and l>y a simultaneous attack, coLfuse and distract the 
 
KNOX ENTERING CAMP WITH ARTILLERY. 
 
LIFE OF WASHINGTON. l'J9 
 
 enemy. Washington, with two thousand four hundred men, 
 marched to McKonkey's Ferry, nine miles above Trenton, 
 and at dusk began to cross. It was an hour big with results 
 to the cause of his country, and he felt the heavy respon- 
 sibility he had assumed. He was calm but solemn, and as 
 he stood dismounted beside his horse and gazed on the tur- 
 bulent river, adown whose bosom the ice, which the sudden 
 cold had formed, was angrily drifting, and listened to its 
 crushing, grinding sound against the frozen shores, blending 
 in its monotonous roar with the confused tramp of the 
 marching columns, and heavy roll of the artillery wagons, 
 and hoarse orders of the officers, his aspect and air were 
 those of one who felt that the crisis of his fate had come. 
 He was about to put a large and almost impassable river 
 across the only way of retreat, and the morning dawn 
 would see his little army victorious, or annihilated, and his 
 country lifted from the gloom that oppressed it, or plunged 
 still deeper into the abyss of despair. As he thus stood 
 absorbed in thought and pressed with anxious care, Wilkin- 
 son approached him with a letter from Gates. Roused from 
 his contemplation, he fixed a stern look on the officer, and 
 exclaimed, " What a time is this to hand me letters!'^ 
 
 The night closed in dark and cold — the wind swept in 
 gusts down the river, while the rapidlj^ increasing ice 
 threatened to prevent entirely the crossing of the troops in 
 time for a night attack. A few boats reached the opposite 
 shore, when a blinding snow storm set in, casting such utter 
 darkness on the river, that those which followed became 
 lost, and drifted about in the gloom. General Knox, who 
 had a voice like a trumpet, stood on the farther shore, and 
 kept hallooing to those struggling in the middle of the 
 stream, and thus indicated the point toward which they 
 should steer. It was a long and inconceivably distressing 
 night to Washington. He had calculated on a surprise, but 
 as hour after hour wore away, and the boats entangled in 
 
200 LIFE OF WASHING T OX. 
 
 the ice delayed their arrival, he saw that this on "which he 
 had placed his chief reliance, must be abandoned. His po- 
 sition grew more and more critical every moment, Cadwal- 
 lader and Ewing might have crossed, and relying on his 
 cooperation attacked the enemy alone and been defeated, 
 or unable to cross at all, left him unsupported to meet in 
 open daylight a prepared enemy, whose heavy artillery 
 could cfTectually sweep every street up which his untrained 
 troojDS might attempt to advance. For nearly twelve hours 
 he watched on the banks of the Delaware, listening to the 
 shouts and uproar of his scattered army, floundering in the 
 gloom, and though an eternity seemed to intervene between 
 the arrival of the boats, he showed no irritation, but stood 
 like a column of marble amid the storm, his great heart 
 almost bursting with anxiety, and yet not an indication of 
 it in his voice and bearing. He could have pushed on with 
 less men, but dared not advance without the artillery, which 
 was the hist to get over. This at length arrived, and at 
 four o'clock in the morning the army took up its line of 
 march. He was still nine miles from Trenton, and the 
 whole distance to be made against a storm of sleet beating 
 full in the soldiers' faces. The army was divided into two 
 columns — one under Sullivan, taking the road along the bank, 
 while Washington, in person, accompanied by Greene, led 
 the other by the Pennington road nearly parallel and a little 
 farther inland. As day broke dimly over the dreary land- 
 sca^x?, Washington saw that his troops were suffering severely 
 from the fatiguing work of the night, and ordered a halt 
 that they might take a few moments' rest. No one, hoAv- 
 ever, was permitted to leave the ranks. The order had 
 scarcely passed down the line before every man was leaning 
 heavily on his musket, and the whole column standing as 
 if suddenly frozen in its j^lace, while the storm silently 
 sifted its white covering over all. Many were but half-clad, 
 and without shoes or stocldngs stood shivering on the 
 
LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 201 
 
 frozen ground. Only a short respite, however, could be 
 given, and soon the order, " forward," passed down the 
 ranks. As the column put itself in motion, Washington, to 
 his surprise, saw one portion quietly slip away from the 
 other, leaving it standing motionless and fast asleep in its 
 place. It was .with difficulty the poor fellows could be 
 roused, but when, not long after, the guns of the advance- 
 guard broke on their ears, there was no lack of wakefulness 
 and energy. 
 
 Under the driving sleet many of the muskets of Sulli- 
 van's troops became wet and unfit for use. On making the 
 discovery, he dispatched his aid, Colonel Smith, to AYash- 
 ington, stating the fact, and saying that he could depend on 
 nothing but the bayonet. Turning suddenly on the as- 
 tonished officer, Washington thundered in his ears : " Go 
 hack sir, immediately, and tell General Sullivan to move on." 
 In relating the occurrence afterward. Colonel Smith said 
 that he " never saw a face so awfully sublime'^ as Washington's 
 when he gave that stern command. All the lion in his 
 nature was roused, every strong faculty had been summoned 
 from its respose, and the marble calmness of his demeanor 
 was like that strange hush of nature which betokens the 
 approaching storm. Captain Forest moved in advance with 
 the artillery, and Washington rode beside him. Passing a 
 countryman chopping wood before his door, the latter 
 pointed to Trenton, now dimly looming in the distance, and 
 asked him if he knew where the Hessian picket lay. The 
 man replied he did not. Said Forest, " You may tell, for 
 it is Washington who addresses you." Overcome with 
 sudden joy, the poor man lifted up his hands and exclaimed, 
 " God bless and prosper you." He then pointed to a house 
 in which the picket lay, and to a tree near it, where the 
 sentry stood. The guns were then unlimbered, and the 
 whole column pressed rapidly forward. Washington still 
 rode in advance amid the artillery, and some of his officers 
 
202 ' LIFE OF AVASHINGTON. 
 
 becoiuiiig alarmed for his safety, urged him to retire. But 
 he paid no heed to their remonstrances — it was not a time 
 to think of himself, and he still led the column, and was just 
 entering King street, when he heard the thunder of Sulli- 
 van's guns in another direction, as Stark broke into the 
 town, and with his strong battle-crj roused the Hessians 
 from their drunken slumbers. Forest then opened with his 
 artillery, and Washington, watching anxiously the effect 
 of each shot, pointed out the different objects at which he 
 wished him to direct his aim. All now was confusion and 
 terror in the enemy's quarters. The roll of drums, the 
 shrill blast of bugles and discordant cries of " to arms, to 
 arms," rang out on every side. Detached companies of 
 dragoons careering through the street — officers galloping 
 almost alone, and wildly about — men hurrying to and fro in 
 the uncertain light — irregular volleys of musketry mingling 
 with the heavier explosions of cannon, combined to create 
 a scene of confusion and disorder in the Hessian camp, that 
 no effort could allay. A few soldiers succeeded in wheeling 
 two cannon into the street along which Washington was 
 advancing. Young Monroe, afterward President of the 
 United States, and Captain Washmgton sprang forward with 
 their men, and though the matches were about to descend 
 on the pieces, charged up to the very muzzles. A volley 
 of musketry met them, and when the smoke cleared away, 
 those two gallant officers were seen reclining in the arms 
 of their followers, wounded, though not mortally. A shout, 
 however, told that the guns were captured. Washington 
 then ordered the column to advance rapidly, when one of 
 his officers exclaimed — " Their flags are struck !" Looking 
 up in surprise, he replied, " So they are,^^ and spurring into 
 a gallop, dashed forward. He was victorious — the burden 
 was suddenly rolled from his heart, and turning to one of 
 his officers, he grasped his hand, exclaiming — " This is a 
 glorious day for our country.''^ His " country" was his only 
 
LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 203 
 
 thought. The suddenness of the victory surprised every 
 one. But the Hessians finding themselves hemmed in by 
 the Assanpink, Sullivan, and Washington, and their leader 
 sone, saw that resistance would be in vain. Aljout six 
 hundred light-horse and infantry made their escape to Bor- 
 dentown. Ewing had not been able to effect a jmssage, ov 
 his division would have crossed the track of these fugitives, 
 and captured them. Cadwallader had also found it impossi- 
 ble to get his army over, so that the troops in Bordentown, 
 Burlington Block House, and Mount Holly, escaped. The 
 victory, though incomplete through the inability of those 
 two commanders to cooperate with Washington, as antici- 
 pated, was nevertheless great. A thousand prisoners, six 
 brass field-pieces, a thousand stand of arms, and four colors, 
 were the glorious results, while the Americans lost only four 
 privates, two of whom were frozen to death. Among those 
 of the enemy killed was Colonel Bahl, the commander. 
 He had been spending the evening, by invitation, at the 
 house of a Tory, and while Washington stood on the bleak 
 shores of the Delaware, watching his army struggling in 
 the icy stream, was pleasantly engaged in a game of cards, 
 to which he gave greater zest, by frequent and heavy pota- 
 tions, to the merry Christmas. A Tory had discovered the 
 approach of the American army toward morning, and hur- 
 ried off to find Colonel Rahl. Being directed to the house 
 where he was, he knocked at the door and gave a letter to 
 a negro waiter, with the request that it should be handed to 
 his master immediately. The servant at first refused to 
 disturb him, but on being told it was of great importance, 
 delivered it. It being Rahl's turn to deal, he thrust the 
 note into his pocket and continued the game. Half-an-hour 
 had scarcely elapsed when a heavy explosion of cannon 
 shook the house where he sat. He started bewildered to 
 his feet, when another and another followed in quick suc- 
 cession. He called for his horse, but before he could be 
 
204 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 
 
 saddled and bridled the pealing bugle and rapid roll of drums 
 told him that the enemy was already in his camp. Dashing 
 forward, he rallied a few troops in an orchard, and was lead- 
 ing them up thfi street against the advancing column, when 
 he fell mortally wounded. 
 
 Before leaving Trenton, Washington snatched a moment 
 to visit the dying officer, and expressed the deepest sympa- 
 thy for his misfortune. 
 
 The enemy being in great force in the vicinity, Washing- 
 ton resolved to recross the Delaware to his old encampment, 
 and at evening the weary but elated soldiers were in the 
 boats, pulling to the same shore they had left the night be- 
 fore with such sad misgivings. At midnight they entered 
 their old quarters again, so utterly exhausted by their thirty- 
 two hours toil, they could hardly stand. But for once they 
 were forgetful of their cold bivouac and scanty clothing, and 
 slept the slumbers of the brave. 
 
 The effect of this victory on the country was like sudden 
 life to the dead. It was a bright Aurora fringing with light 
 and glory the hitherto dark and wintry heavens. The en- 
 thusiasm and joy were the greater, springing as they did out 
 of sorrow and despair, and wherever over the land the name 
 of Washington was uttered, tears fell like rain drops, and 
 blessings innumerable were invoked on his head. 
 
 Washington scarcely heard the long shout that went rolling 
 over the land as the news of the victory of Trenton spread 
 on every side, and paid but slight attention to the numerous 
 congratulations that came pouring in from Congress and the 
 distinguished men of the colonies, so intent was he on 
 taking advantage of the enthusiasm of his troops, and the 
 panic of the enemy, and follow up the unexpected blow he 
 had given with another still more terrible and disastrous. 
 It was now mid-winter, and his troops were without tents 
 and clothing, yet he hoped, by great energy and daring, to 
 press so hard on the cantonments of the British that they 
 
LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 205 
 
 would be compelled to break them up and evacuate the 
 Jerseys. But this little band presented a sorry spectacle 
 as it lay, half clad, scattered around on the frozen ground, 
 while to add to his calamities he knew that the term of service 
 of several of the regiments was drawing to a close. Ong 
 cheering feature, however, presented itself. Congress hav 
 ing got over its fears of a military despotism, or oppressed 
 with the still greater fear of ultimate failure, conferred 
 at this time [Dec. 27th] on Washington powers making him 
 practically military dictator. He was authorized to raise 
 sixteen battalions of infantry, three thousand light-horse, 
 three regiments of artillery, together with a corps of engi- 
 neers, and appoint the officers himself. He had also full 
 power when he deemed it necessary to call on the several 
 States for the militia — to appoint throughout the army all 
 the officers under brigadiers — fill up all vacancies — to take 
 whatever he wanted for the use of his troops, wherever he 
 could find it, with no other restriction than that he must 
 pay its value — finally, seize and lock up every man ^vho 
 refused to receive continental money. This was a tre- 
 mendous stride from the doubtful and suspicious course 
 Congress had hitherto adopted. Such power was never be- 
 fore placed in the hands of a single man without being 
 abused. But Washington was as destitute of mere ambition 
 and self-love as he was of vain glory ; one object alone 
 filled the whole field of his vision — his country ; and one 
 thought only engrossed all his heart — her good. The coun- 
 cil of safety of New York wrote him an apology for having, 
 unintentionally, as they afterward found, encroached on his 
 authority, while endeavoring to aid him. His letter shows 
 how irksome the power he wielded was to him. " Heaven 
 knows," said he, " that I greatly want the aid of every good 
 man, and that there are not such enviable pleasures attend- 
 ing my situation as to make me too jealous of its preroga- 
 tives." The very day after the battle of Trenton, while 
 
206 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 
 
 he stood musing on the banks of the Delaware, amid his 
 excited but suffering soldiers, the vote investing him with 
 these extraordinary powers passed Congress. The following 
 day he recrossed the river and marched to Princeton. But 
 at this critical juncture the term of service of several of 
 the regiments expired, and the troops, worn down with 
 fatigue and exposure, were determined to go home. Wash- 
 ington, in this emergency, promised them ten dolhxrs bounty 
 if they would remain six weeks longer, though he did not 
 then know where the money was to come from. He also 
 made a strong appeal to officers and men. He praised their 
 fidelity and gallantry, acknowledged they were entitled to 
 an honorable discharge, but begged them to think of the 
 sad condition of their country should they take it at the 
 present juncture. He bade them remember they were 
 standing on the very spot they had rendered immortal, and 
 where tlicy had covered themselves with glory. He spoke 
 of the gratitude of their country and the mortification of 
 the enemy, and then told them all they had achieved would 
 be vain if they disbanded and left him without an army. 
 The enemy would immediately re-occupy his joosts and 
 march without obstruction to Philadelphia. The officers 
 were moved by this noble appeal, and in turn jDleaded with 
 the men, and by this means more than half were persuaded 
 to remain. Washington, with an empty military chest, then 
 wrote to that noble patriot, Robert Morris, who was to his 
 country in its fmancial troubles what the former was to her 
 in the field, for immediate help. Morris borrowed on his 
 own personal credit fifty thousand dollars, and dispatched 
 the amount without delay to head-quarters, and in the note 
 announcing its departure, bade Washington call on him 
 again when in trouble and he should have more. 
 
 In the meantime Cadwallader and Mifflin had succeeded in 
 crossing the Delaware, each with some eighteen hundred 
 men, and formed a junction with Washington at Trenton. 
 
LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 207 
 
 While the latter was thus concentrating his troops at 
 Trenton, Howe, on whom this sudden and bold irruption 
 had fallen like a thunder-clap, immediately ordered off re- 
 inforcements to New Jersey. Cornwallis, wdio, supposing 
 the campaign was closed, had taken passage for England, 
 was directed to repair with all haste to his post, and soon a 
 formidable army assembled at Princeton. On the 2d of 
 January, 1777, Cornwallis put his columns in motion, and 
 before daylight in the morning was in front of Trenton. 
 Washington, who had ascertained from scouts in what over- 
 whelming numbers the enemy was moving against him, 
 withdrew his forces over the Assanpink, and planted bat- 
 teries so as to command the bridge and the different fords 
 in the vicinity. His position now became one of extreme 
 peril. To make a successful stand there on the banks of 
 the Assanpink was impossible, for so soon as Cornwallis 
 should discern how small was the force opposed to him, he 
 would by the mere weight of numbers crush it at once. To 
 deliver battle, under the circumstances, would insure the 
 utter overthrow of the army. Victory could not be dreamed 
 of, while retreat was impossible, for the ice-filled Delaware 
 was surging in rear, and before the enemy's cavalry the 
 half-disciplined militia would become a herd of fugitives. 
 One can hardly imagine what great object Washington had 
 in view to compensate for the hazardous position he had 
 voluntarily taken, for he now stood with his hands tied. 
 Nothing was to be done except meet his fate manfully, un- 
 less fortune or Heaven interfered in some unlooked for way 
 in his behalf. One thing, however, was evident : he must 
 gain time or be lost hopelessly. The night might bring 
 relief, and he therefore sent forward detachments to harass 
 the enemy's march and detain him as long as possible from 
 reaching the Assanpink. Colonels Reed and Howard, and 
 Captain Forest with the artillery, aided as they closed fiercer 
 and sterner with the foe by Morgan and Miller, caused the 
 
208 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 
 
 vanguard to halt and the massive columns to close up in. 
 order of battle. Waiting for the artillery to scour a wood 
 in which the two latter officers lay concealed, and kept up 
 an incessant, galling fire, the British were delayed two 
 hours. This in all probability saved the American army. 
 Washington stood on the shores of the narrow Assanpink 
 and watched with the most painful anxiety the steadily ap- 
 proaching fire. The gallant regiments that had thrown 
 themselves so resolutely in the path of the enemy were 
 being gradually forced back, and as they approached the 
 banks of the stream Washington rode across and thanked 
 them for their heroic conduct. He called on them to dis- 
 pute every inch of ground, and retire only when necessary 
 to save their pieces. A loud and cheering shout ran along 
 their ranks, and the next moment their volleys were again 
 telling on the enemy. But at length, being driven to the 
 river, the order was given to defile over the bridge to the 
 main army. The advance columns of the British followed 
 eagerly after, and as they reached the shore attempted to 
 force a passage, both at the fords and the bridge. But the 
 well planted batteries of the Americans swept the heads 
 of the advancing columns with such a deadly fire that 
 they recoiled before it, leaving the stream filled with the 
 dead. Between every discharge the whole army cheered. 
 
 At length Cornwallis arrived with the remaining artillery, 
 when a terrific cannonade was opened on the American 
 lines. Battery answered battery, and the deep thunder 
 rolled away over the plains, carrying consternation to the 
 inhabitants. It was now sunset, and Washington expected 
 every moment to see the heavy columns under the protection 
 of their artillery move to the assault. Had this been done, 
 there is but little doubt that the American army would have 
 ]jeen annihilated. Cornwallis, however, being ignorant of 
 the force opposed to him, and not liking to make a decisive 
 effort in the dark, resolved to wait till morning and renew 
 
EVACUATION OF BOSTON 
 
LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 211 
 
 the attack. The stubborn resistance he had met with 
 during the day, and the bold attitude of his antagonist, mis- 
 led him, and he supposed Washington designed to offer him 
 battle on the spot where he had drawn uj) his army. Ers- 
 kine, who was with Cornwallis, remonstrated against this 
 fatal resolution, declaring that in the morning Washington 
 would not be there. The former, however, was firm, and 
 soon the loud explosions of artillery gave way to the con- 
 fused hum of the two armies as they sunk to their bivouacks, 
 within sight of each other's camp-fires. Washington imme- 
 diately called a council of war at the tent of St. Clair, to 
 determine what course to adopt in this extremity. Judging 
 from the large force opposed to him that many regiments 
 had not been left behind at Princeton and Brunswick, he 
 proposied by a circuitous vigorous night-march to get in the 
 enemy's rear, and threatening at the same his stores at 
 Brunswick and his communication with New York, frighten 
 him back from Philadelphia. If Howe kept on, the city 
 must inevitably fall, as the only obstacle between it and 
 him would be removed, still the preservation of the army 
 was now the great question, and not that of Philadelphia. 
 
 This daring resolution to march back into the heart of 
 New Jersey, and resume a furious ofiensive, at the very mo- 
 ment when all defense seemed hoi^eless, was one of those 
 inspirations of genius by which Bonaparte so often saved 
 his army and empire. He wished to execute a» similar 
 movement and march on Berlin, when pressed so heavily 
 by the allies after tlie disastrous retreat from Russia, but he 
 was overruled by his officers — took post at Leipsic, and was 
 overthrown. He adopted the same bold resolution in his 
 last struggle on the soil of France, and gaining the rear of 
 the allies attempted to draw them back from Paris, but the 
 latter would not be diverted from their purpose, and so 
 reached the capital before him. 
 
 There was, however, one apparently insuperable obstacle 
 
212 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 
 
 in the way of carrying out this daring plan. There had 
 been a thaw, and the roads were so soft that it would he 
 impossible to get forward the artillery, composed of forty 
 pieces, rapidly enough to reach Princeton by morning. To 
 the infinite delight of Washington this objection was most 
 unexpectedly and suddenly removed — the wind changed 
 into the north while the council was deliberating, and in 
 two hours the roads were frozen as hard as iron. This 
 settled the question, and preparations for marching were 
 immediately set on foot. The baggage was sent down to 
 Burlington, while fires were ordered to be kindled in front 
 of the lines. The soldiers, scattered and in groups, roamed 
 the fields, tearing down fences for fuel, and in a short time 
 a bright fire blazed around the American camp. Guards 
 were placed at the fords and bridge, and working parties 
 were detailed as if to throw up trenches, the sound of whose 
 heavy toil lulled into greater security the sentinels on watch. 
 Washington kept up also his patrols, who were so near to 
 those of the enemy that the countersigns of each could be 
 distinctly heard by the other. 
 
 At one o'clock in the morning the army began its stealthy 
 march, and silently and swiftly defiled away from its in- 
 trenchments. But the road chosen was unfortunately a new 
 incomplete one, filled with stumps. Against these the 
 wheels of the artillery, as they were driven rapidl}^ along, 
 thumped heavily, and many of them were broken, thus 
 seriously retarding the march. But for this the army would 
 have reached Princeton before daylight, and Washington 
 had time to have advanced on Brunswick, where large 
 stores and .£70,000 were collected. It was a cold, bluster- 
 ing night, and the scantily supplied troops, who had now 
 been twenty-fours hours without sleep, and mostly without 
 food, suffered severely. As it grew toward morning, Wash- 
 ington kept exclusively with the advance column, watching 
 eagerly for the daylight. At length the cold, gray dawn 
 
LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 213 
 
 appeared, when the troops were hurried forward with 
 greater speed. They were now close on Princeton, and as 
 the bright sun rose over the hills, the white columns of 
 smoke arising from the chimney-tops through the frosty 
 air were a grateful spectacle to the hungry, weary and be- 
 numbed soldiers. But the next moment there flashed forth 
 in the wintry beams a long line of bayonets, and the whole 
 road before the Americans was reddened with scarlet uni- 
 forms. Three British regiments had been quartered over 
 night at Princeton, whose arrival at the head-quarters of 
 Cornwallis in the morning was to be the signal of a general 
 assault on the American lines. Two of these were already 
 on the march, and did not at first observe the main Ameri- 
 can army, which, concealed behind a piece of woods, was 
 swiftly passing along a by-road over a low piece of ground, 
 straight for Princeton. General Mercer, with about three 
 hundred and fifty soldiers, many of them young men of 
 wealth from Philadelphia, was sent by Washington to take 
 possession of the traveled highway to Trenton, and seize 
 the bridge over which it passed and cut off any fugitives 
 who might attempt to escape to Cornwallis. He had scarcely 
 commenced his march when he became revealed to the 
 astonished British. Mawhood, the commander, had just 
 crossed the bridge on his way to Trenton, when this appari- 
 tion burst upon him. Instantly seeing the danger he was 
 in of being cut off" from Princeton, and attacked in the open 
 country, he suddenly wheeled and recrossed the stream — 
 reaching the opposite bank just as Mercer's column arrived. 
 The two commanders then made a desperate effort to 
 gain the high ground nearer Princeton, ascending the 
 slope on opposite sides. Mercer was first up, and pressing 
 through an orchard saw the British line rapidly approach- 
 ing. A rail-fence lay between them, behind which the 
 Americans took shelter and poured in a deadly volley. The 
 
 British, who were advancing at the charge step, halted and 
 
 12 
 
214 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 
 
 delivered their fire at the same moment. The lines were 
 so near to each other that the smoke of the two volleys 
 met and curled gracefully ujDward together in the morning 
 sunlicrht. The moment the enemv had delivered their fire 
 the order to charge was given, and they rushed forward 
 with the hayonet. The Americans, many of them being 
 armed only with rifles, soon broke and fled down the hill. 
 Mercer, his horse being wounded, rushed on foot amid his 
 men, endeavoring by word and example to rally them. 
 With a portion of them he was in a hand to hand fight with 
 the British, when a soldier leveled him to the ground with 
 his musket. A half a dozen bayonets immediately gleamed 
 over his breast, and the soldiers cried out, " call for quar- 
 ters, you d — d rebel." Mercer indignantly refused, and cut 
 at the nearest with his sword, when he was transfixed to 
 the earth and left for dead.* As Mawhood pushed across 
 the hill in j)ursuit of the flying detachment, he came to the 
 brow that looked down on the army under Washington, 
 moving rapidly up to the aid of Mercer. He saw the 
 
 *nugh Mercer was a Scotchman by birth, and came to this country as a phy- 
 sician, lie early entered the mihtary service, and served with Washington when the 
 latter was a Virginia colonel. lie was wounded at the battle of Monongahela, and 
 unable to keep up with Braddock's army in its wild retreat, lay down behind a 
 log to die. The savages were all around hira, tomahawking the wounded and scalping 
 the dead, yet he remained concealed, listening to the groans and diabolical yells 
 that marked their infernal labor. At length as night drew in he was left alone with 
 the forest and ghastly dead. Faint with the loss of blood, and parched with fever, 
 Jiie crawled forth, and reaching a little rivulet quenched his raging thirst. Refreshed 
 (by the cooling draught, he endeavored to follow in the track of the army. But he 
 iWas a hundred miles from any settlement, and unable with his shattered shoulder 
 'to obtain any food. Faint and exhausted, he was compelled to halt at short inter- 
 vals and rest Slow death by famine now stared him in the face, but as he stumbled 
 along be saw a rattlesnake in his path. By great exertion he succeeded in killing 
 the viper. lie ihen with his unwounded arm and hand skinned him and devoured 
 part of the flesh raw. The remainder he flung over his unwounded shoulder and 
 pressed on. When the pangs of hunger could be no longer endured, or nature 
 became exhausted, he would chew a piece of the reptile, and thus succeeded in 
 reaching Fort Cumberland, though a mere walking skeleton. He survived the 
 battle of Princeton but a few days, and died in great pain. He was a gallant 
 ofiQcer, and his death was universally lamented. 
 
LIFE OF WASniXGTOX. 215 
 
 latter, wlio was in advance of the main body with a select 
 coqDS, ride forward to arrest the fugitives, and with his hat 
 swinging above his head, gallop swiftly from j)oint to point 
 to steady his trooi^s, who had already begun to feel the 
 effects of the first panic. His quick eye detected at a glance 
 the desperate odds against him, but taking advantage of the 
 confusion the defeated detachment had created, he gallantly 
 resolved to charge, and with loud shouts the troops rushed 
 forward. Before the threatened shock the Americans began 
 to recoil. Washington, knowing that defeat would be anni- 
 hilation, no sooner saw his ranks begin to shake than he 
 spurred forward, shouting to his astonished troops to follow 
 him, and rode to within thirty yards of the enemy, and 
 halted, while his staff gazed on him with astonishment. 
 The hitherto wavering militia wheeled instantly into line. 
 The enemy then halted and dressed their line also, and the 
 order to fire passed simultaneously along the ranks of 
 both. Washington still sat midway between the hvo, his 
 eye turned full on the foe. One of his aids, horror-struck 
 at the sight, dropped the reins upon his horse's neck and 
 covered his face with his chapeau, so as not to see his com- 
 mander fall. A crash of musketry followed, and when the 
 smoke lifted there sat Washington, to the amazement of all, 
 unharmed. The next moment his loud shout rose over the 
 din of battle, and swinging his hat over his head for a ban- 
 ner to those who pressed after, he spurred against the flying 
 enemy. His favorite aid wept like a child at the spectacle, 
 while Fitzgerald, another aid, and the finest horseman in 
 the army, dashed up to him, and in the suddenness of his 
 joy exclaimed, " Thank God your excellency is safe." Wash- 
 ington gave one grasp of the hand to his weeping aid, and 
 turning to Fitzgerald, exclaimed — " Away, my dear colonel — 
 bri?ig up the troops, the day is our own." ''Long live Wash- 
 ington!" rolled back over the field, and went up like a 
 morning anthem to heaven. The second regiment ad- 
 
216 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 
 
 vancing to sustain the first, was also routed. All now was 
 excitement and exultation in the American army, and the 
 patriots forgetting the exhaustion of the last night's march 
 streamed after the fugitives. 
 
 The first heavy explosions of cannon at Princeton roused 
 up Cornwallis, who thought it thundered. But Erskine 
 knew too well what the sound betokened, and exclaimed, 
 " To arms, general; the enemy is at Princeton!'^ A single 
 glance at the empty intrenchments of the Americans re- 
 vealed the whole terrible plot that had been sprung upon 
 him, and the cry of " to arms," " to arms," and rapid roll 
 of drums, and blast of the bugle sounded wildly through 
 the camp, and in a few minutes artillery, infantry, and 
 cavalry were thundering along the road toward Princeton, 
 which lay only ten miles distant. Washington, knowing 
 that the first sound of his guns would bring the enemy upon 
 him, pressed the regiments he encountered with all the 
 energy and vehemence in his power. lie also sent a de- 
 tachment to destroy the bridge that Mercer had been directed 
 to occupy, in order to arrest their progress and delay the 
 pursuit. Major Kelley, who commanded it, had just begun 
 to tear up the planks when the van of the British rose over 
 the hill in the distance, coming on a run. The latter imme- 
 diately threw a discharge of round shot into the detachment, 
 which drove it away from the river. The Americans suc- 
 ceeded, however, in tumbling all the planks into the stream, 
 leaving only the skeleton of timbers standing. This 
 stopi^ed the progress of the artillery, but Cornwallis, hearing 
 the roar of Washington's cannon beyond Princeton, and 
 fearing for his stores at Brunswick, ordered the soldiers into 
 the stream where it was fordable. Breast deep they plunged 
 in, and struggled bravely through the ice-filled channel. But 
 they had scarcely mounted the opposite bank before the cold 
 January morning froze their uniforms stiff upon them. Still 
 the urgent order of the officers was " forward," " forward," 
 
LIFE OF ^YX^llINGTON. 217 
 
 and the benumbed troops pressed on to Princeton- As the 
 advance-guard approached the town an iron thirty- two 
 pounder, left on a breast-work, was fired by some one, which 
 brought them to a sudden pause. Cornwallis riding up, 
 surveyed a moment the battery, and concluding that Wash- 
 ington had made a stand there to offer him battle, ordered 
 a halt. A sharp reconnoisance was immediately made by 
 parties on horseback, and a whole hour was wasted in con- 
 sulting on the best mode of taking this formidable battery. 
 At length the steady columns moved forward to the assault, 
 but meeting no resistance quietly entered the half-finished 
 works, when to their amazement they found not a soul 
 within. Washington all this time was chasing up the two 
 regiments fleeing toward Brunswick. 
 
 Having pursued the enemy as far as Kingston, he halted, and 
 collecting his officers hastily around him on horseback, asked 
 whether it was best to continue on to Brunswick. The prize 
 was tempting, but Cornwallis was in close pursuit with a 
 large army of fresh troops, supported by cavalry, while 
 many of the Americans, having marched two whole nights 
 without shoes and stockings, measuring the frozen highway 
 and charging in battle barefoot, and that too without break- 
 fast or dinner, were completely exhausted. It was resolved, 
 therefore, to abandon the pursuit; and turning off into a 
 laarrow road, the army reached Pluckemin that evening in 
 safety, with three hundred prisoners, while between one and 
 two hundred of the enemy had been left stark and stiff on 
 the slopes before Princeton. Halting at the latter place 
 only long enough to give his tired gallant little army food 
 and rest, he pushed on to Morristown, where he soon after 
 took up his winter-quarters. Here, girdled in by moun- 
 tains from whose bases a country rich in supplies extended 
 on every side, he gathered his victorious troops, but not to 
 rest. Scarcely a morning passed without the bugle call re- 
 sounding through the camp announced that a detachment 
 
218 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 
 
 was on the march to intercept or attack the foraging parties 
 of the enemy. These were cut off or driven in so constantly 
 that the British commander found it impossible to sustain 
 his army except at those places which had open water com- 
 munication with New York. Soon all New Jersey, but 
 Brunswick and Amboy, were cleared of the enemy, and 
 Philadelphia relieved from immediate danger. 
 
 Thus in less than a single fortnight Washington, by a 
 - succession of the most brilliant and daring manoeuvres on 
 record, had lifted the nation out of the depths of despond- 
 ency, gave confidence to the government, turned the tide 
 of misfortune, and covered his tattered troops with glory. 
 The shout of exultation that followed rung round the 
 civilized world till even kings learned to reverence the name 
 of Washington, and baptized him the " American Fabius." 
 Such unexpected, sudden results, took friends and foes 
 equally by surprise. The British commander was stunned. 
 He had been chasing Washington all the autumn, endeavor- 
 ing by every means in his power to provoke him to battle. 
 He had taken more than four thousand prisoners — divided 
 and reduced his army, till, without shelter and almost with- 
 out clothing, it lay shivering on the banks of the Delaware. 
 To this downward point he had forced it in mid-winter, 
 when he thought it could not possibly resume successful 
 operations. But just at this moment, when Washington 
 was never so little able even to defend himself, the British 
 commander saw him suddenly wheel about and breaking 
 into one of the most furious offensives on record, fall like 
 successive thunder-claps on his strong battalions, and roll 
 them back at every point. He found that Washington, with 
 all the wariness of the fox, had the terrible spring of the 
 lion. 
 
 The amount of suffering Washington endured in this long 
 and tedious retreat, the noble struggles he had passed through 
 to bear up against the want of supplies, of arms, and even 
 
LIFE OF AVASHIXGTOX. 219 
 
 of ammunition — against a murmuring, rebellious, and, worse 
 than all, cowardly army — against the sus^Dicion of his own 
 officers and neglect of the very States he was striving to 
 defend — against the jealousy of Congress — against poverty, 
 destitution and wholesale desertion, will never be known. 
 It remained locked up in his great heart, and even in after 
 years was never spoken of. Neither shall we know what 
 dreadful anxiety weighed him down after he had taken the 
 desperate resolution he did, until success crowned his eftbrts. 
 With his almost infallible judgment he had evidently mea- 
 sured in its length and breadth the cause of the colonies, 
 and knew that if he should continue to retreat, and Phila- 
 delphia fall into the hands of the enemy, his demoralized 
 army would disband, and spring find the current setting so 
 strongly back toward the mother country that it would be 
 impossible to offer any effectual resistance to the enemy. 
 The moral eflfect of a victory he must have, or be lost, and 
 he determined to risk all to gain it. It is evident he had 
 made up his mind never to survive defeat. He felt he had 
 reached the turning point in the struggle — beyond lay both 
 hope and despair. In this crisis of his country's destiny, he 
 resolved to occupy the post of greatest danger himself, and 
 if the decree had gone out against his country, receive the 
 first blow on his own breast. He was too noble, too great, 
 to peril so fearfully his army and the cause of freedom, and 
 wish to survive their overthrow. Hence, although com- 
 mander-in-chief, he became in fact leader of the advance 
 guard, both in the march on Trenton and Princeton, To 
 the remonstrance of his officers in the first battle, not to 
 expose his person so recklessly, he scarcely deigned a reply. 
 At Princeton he planted himself where his death must in- 
 evitably follow the desertion of his troops, and where it 
 was almost certain to happen whatever the issue might be. 
 He had reached a crisis demanding a sacrifice, and he cast 
 himself and his little band on the altar, and by that sacri- 
 
220 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 
 
 fice, great as it was glorious, redeemed his country. The 
 triumph was complete, but the officers trembled when they 
 reflected at what peril to Washington it had been achieved, 
 and besought him in future to be more prudent, for too 
 great interests were bound up in his life to have it so 
 lavishly exposed. 
 
THE BELLMAN INFORMED OF THE PASSAGE OF THE DECLARATION OF INDEPENDENCE. 
 
LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 22; 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 Washington's Fame in Europe— Barbarity of the Hessians— Depredations of the 
 Troops — General Heath summons Fort Independence to surrender — Washing- 
 ton issues a counter Proclamation to that of Howe, which is poorly received in 
 New Jersey— Five additional ]\Iajor Generals and ten Brigadiers appointed— In- 
 human treatment of American Prisoners by the British— Arnold and Wooster 
 drive Governor Tryon back to his ships— Meigs' Expedition to Sag Harbor— The 
 British Evacuate New Jersey — Arrival of Lafayette — His Interview with Wash- 
 ington — The British land at Elk and march on Philadelphia — Washington advances 
 to meet them — Skirmishing — Washington re-crosses the Brandywiue and takes 
 position near Chad's Ford — Position of the Northern Army, etc. 
 
 An officer, writing from Morristown, after the battle of 
 Princeton, said, " Our army love their general very much, 
 but they have one thing against him : which is the little 
 care he takes of himself in any action. His personal bravery 
 and the desire he has of animating his troops by his ex 
 ample make him fearless of danger. This occasions us much 
 uneasiness. But Heaven, which has hitherto been his shield, 
 will, I hope, still continue to guard his valuable life."* 
 
 As one traces Washington through this campaign, and 
 learns to appreciate all the difficulties that beset him, and 
 looks into his secret heart and sees how pure, how noble, 
 how unselfish and full of devotion to his country all his 
 feelings are, he exclaims at every step, *' Incomparable Man!" 
 No suspicion and distrust can excite his hostility, no re- 
 proaches or unjust insinuations drive him into hasty action — 
 no accumulation of disaster or oppression or want shake his 
 purpose or unsettle for a moment his judgment. 
 
 The nations of Europe had watched the progress of the 
 struggle with great interest, and the news of these sudden 
 victories at Trenton and Princeton, and of the first great 
 check of the enemy, filled them with admiration. Says Botta, 
 
 * Vide Sparks' Letters and Speeches of Washington. 
 
224 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 
 
 *' Achievements so astonishing gained for the American 
 commander a very great reputation, and were regarded with 
 wonder by all nations, as well as by the Americans. Every 
 one aiDplauded the prudence, the firmness and the daring of 
 General Washington. All declared him the saviour of his 
 country ; all proclaimed him equal to the most renowned 
 commanders of antiquity, and especially distinguished him 
 by the name of the American Fabius. His name was in the 
 mouths of all men, and celebrated by the pens of the most 
 eminent writers. The greatest personages m Europe be- 
 stowed upon him praise and congratulations. Thus the 
 American general wanted neither a noble cause to defend, 
 nor an opportunity for acquiring glory, nor the genius to 
 avail himself of it, nor a whole generation of men compe- 
 tent and well disposed to render him homage." 
 
 Washington had no sooner got his army well housed in 
 log huts, than he began, as before remarked, to send out de- 
 tachments to cut oJBf English foraging parties. In this he 
 received great assistance from the inhabitants, who, aroused 
 by the atrocities committed by the Hessian and English 
 troops, thirsted for vengeance. The pardon granted by 
 Howe to those who took the oath of allegiance had been 
 of no avail. The Hessian soldiers, looking upon the Ameri- 
 cans as barbarians and outlaws, denied to friend and foe 
 alike the protection usually extended to peaceful inhabitants 
 by an invading army. The wintry heavens were made 
 lurid with the flames of burning dwellings, and the shrieks 
 of murdered men, and of women outraged and ravished in 
 presence of their own families, were borne on every breeze 
 over the land. 
 
 Oppressed with a powerful army, the inhabitants had 
 been compelled to remain passive under these aggravated 
 acts of violence, and those who had taken the oath of 
 alleefiance saw that their cowardice or lukewarmness in the 
 
 o 
 
 cause of their country, had only brought on them contempt 
 
LIFE OP WASHINGTON. 225 
 
 and ruin. New Jersey had become a scene of horror and 
 desolation, and the atrocities committed by the enemy 
 were bruited over Europe, and awakened in the French 
 peojDle the deepest indignation, who compared the EngUsh 
 to the Goths and Vandals in their incursions airainst the 
 civilized nations of Europe. This wholesale pillage of the 
 inhabitants was not confined to the invaders, the American 
 troops themselves sacked the dwellings of the wealthy, de- 
 claring they were partisans of the king, and hence their 
 property should be confiscated. 
 
 But this sudden success of Washington put a different 
 aspect on affairs. The outraged patriots flew to arms — 
 many a wronged and robbed inhabitant became at once a 
 spy, a scout, and a soldier, and did good service in scourging 
 these marauders back. 
 
 In the meantime Washington strung cantonments from 
 Princeton to the Highlands, connecting his army with that 
 of Heath, whom he had urged to make a demonstration 
 against New York, for the purpose of compelling Howe to 
 withdraw his troops from New Jersey and concentrate them 
 in that city. This commander after much delay at length 
 put his troops in motion, and appearing before Fort Inde- 
 pendence, summoned it in a pompous manner to surrender. 
 The whole exjDedition, however, proved a failure, and 
 General Heath retired without any laurels to the High- 
 lands. 
 
 Washington, having witnessed the effect of Howe's pro- 
 clamation on the people of New Jersey, and finding that 
 many, though wholly estranged from the British cause by 
 the barbarities under which they had suffered, still regarded 
 their oath as binding them at least to a strict neutrality, 
 issued a counter-proclamation, [January 25th,] in which he 
 commanded all persons who had received protections from 
 British commissioners to deliver them up at once, and take 
 in place an oath of allegiance to the United States. Thirty 
 
226 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 
 
 days were allowed them in which to do it — after that time 
 all who refused would be treated as enemies. This was the 
 first palpable use Washington made of his dictatorial power, 
 and the manner in which it was received by the state 
 authorities of New Jersey argued poorly for its working in 
 the country at large. It was asserted that, there being no 
 confederation of the states formed, Congress had not the 
 power to exact such an oath, and hence could not delegate 
 it to another — that its assumj)tion by Washington was a 
 direct encroachment uipon the prerogatives of the sej^arate 
 states, to which alone this power belonged. The complaints 
 extended even to Congress, and members were found tech- 
 nical and unpatriotic enough to take sides with New Jersey. 
 ]VIi\ Abraham Clark, a delegate from this very State, and one 
 of the signers of the Declaration of Independence, opposed 
 it in Congress, and, in a letter to Colonel Dayton, jDlaced his 
 objections on the grounds already mentioned, and added, " / 
 believe the General honest but fallible." 
 
 Previous to this, Washington had addressed an earnest, 
 pressing letter to the Governor of the state, remonstrating 
 against the raising of several battalions, as he had done, for 
 the defense of the State alone, and not as a part of the con- 
 tinental army. That letter, though courteous and guarded, 
 is couched in language that could not be mistaken, and gave 
 the Governor to understand most emphatically that the ex- 
 traordinarj^ powers with which he had been invested were 
 not an idle ceremony, but would be wielded when the 
 exigencies of his condition required it. After speaking of 
 the sujDcrior advantages of having the drafts made for the 
 service of the country at large instead of the single state of 
 New Jersey, he adds, " I am sure that the necessity of hav- 
 ing the continental regiments immediately completed is too 
 obvious to need any further arguments. I hope the powers of 
 government are such as to complete the new levies by draft if they 
 cannot be filled reasonably by voluntary enlistments. Necessity 
 
LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 227 
 
 obliges me to call upon you, as I shall upon every other state, in 
 the most pressing terms to complete, without delay, your propor- 
 tion of the eighty-eight battalions." A call for the several 
 quotas was also made from the other states, and Washing- 
 ton employed the power given him, to collect and organize 
 an army for a spring campaign. He also wrote to Congress, 
 but this body seemed to have been suddenly exorcised of 
 all its greatness, and much of its patriotism, and regarded 
 his appeals apparently like petitions, which it had resolved 
 beforehand to lay on the table. In the mode of ajDpointing 
 five additional major-generals, and ten brigadiers, in obe- 
 dience to the long and urgent request of Washington, they 
 showed how small a portion they possessed of the self-de- 
 nying patriotism and noble devotion to the interests of their 
 country which characterized the commander-in-chief, about 
 whose abuse of power they had been so solicitous. When 
 the fate of the country was involved, and the salvation of 
 the army depended, in a great measure, upon the ability 
 and character of the commanding officers, their appointment 
 was brought about by political shuffling, and used to gratify 
 personal friendship or personal ambition. Each state had 
 its favorite candidates, and each candidate his supporters. 
 There were exceptions to this conduct, it is true, but, in the 
 main, Washington was not consulted, and officers were 
 forced on him he never would have chosen. In order to 
 apportion them properly to the different states and thus 
 gratify local jealousies, incompetent men were appointed, 
 and in some instances made to outrank officers who had 
 served from the outset of the war. The latter were indig- 
 nant at this injustice, and it required all Washington's in- 
 fluence to pacify them. The miserable and low view 
 Congress took of its duties in this respect, resulting as it 
 did in sowing dissensions in the army and increasing the 
 embarrassment of Washington laid the foundation, doubtless 
 of Arnold's after treason 
 
228 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 
 
 The pernicious precedent set at this time has ever since 
 been followed, and probably will be to the end of the chap- 
 ter. Congress, always ignorant of military matters, will 
 thrust civilian generals on the army, just as the President 
 dispenses offices, and political favor will carry a man to a 
 higher grade than honorable scars. 
 
 While the two armies lay in winter-quarters, negotiations 
 were opened for an exchange of prisoners. Various offers 
 had previously been made to effect the release of Lee, and 
 both Washington and Congress were very anxious about his 
 fate. Although Lee had resigned the commission which 
 he held in the English army before he joined that of the 
 colonies, Howe chose to regard him as a deserter, and 
 treated him as such, and threatened to try him by court- 
 martial. Congress immediately retaliated by placing Col. 
 Campbell, a British prisoner, in a common jail, and refusing 
 to five Hessian field-ofiicers, taken at Trenton, the usual 
 privileges of prisoners of war. The English government 
 fearing the effect of this treatment would be to disgust their 
 mercenary troops with the service, relented, and allowed 
 Lee to be regarded as a prisoner of war; and finally con- 
 sented to his exchange. Washington opposed these retalia- 
 tory measures as both inhuman and impolitic. " Why," he 
 asked, " should an ineffectual attempt to relieve the dis- 
 tresses of one brave, unfortunate man involve many more 
 in the same calamities ?" It was bad policy, because the 
 balance of prisoners was heavy against us, and hence, if the 
 British commander followed our example, Americans would 
 be by far the heaviest sufferers. Howe, to his credit be it 
 said, did not retaliate, though it might be asserted with some 
 show of truth that he could not, for to what more loathsome 
 dungeons, or dreadful want and suffering, the American 
 prisoners confined in New York could be doomed, it would 
 be difficult to conceive. More unprovoked, useless barbaritj^, 
 more cold-blooded, damning cruelty was never witnessed 
 
LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 229 
 
 amid savages. The loathsome dens into which the victims 
 were crowded were filled with stench and vermin ; and un- 
 clad, unfed, uncared for, they died by hundreds, while those 
 who survived till sjDring, came forth from their dismal 
 abodes looking more like skeletons emerging from their 
 graves, than strong-limbed soldiers whose only offense had 
 been that of fighting for their fire-sides and their homes. 
 Of the five thousand who had been locked up in the prisons, 
 churches and sugar-houses of New York, but few sound, 
 healthy men ever came out. An Irish cut-throat by the 
 name of Cunningham had charge of the " New Jail," in 
 which most of the American officers and the eminent Whigs 
 were confined. This miscreant jailer kept those officers of 
 rank and gentlemen of wealth in miserable cells, or con- 
 fined in an upper chamber, and crowded so close together 
 that when stretched at night on the plank floor, they could 
 not turn over except all at once, at the word "right — left." 
 He had a gallows erected, apparently for his own amuse- 
 ment, on which he almost every night hung some poor 
 wretch. His hour for these occasional recreations was just 
 after midnight. Howe was too lazy and too indifferent to 
 the fate of a few rebels to make any inquiries about the 
 condition of his prisoners; and, although he does not stand 
 charged with personal cruelty, he was guilty of a crime 
 closely akin to it — utter indifference to whether it was prac- 
 tised or not under his authority. He indignantly denied 
 the charge which Washington made against him, but the 
 facts, as afterward proved, and his statements are as wide 
 apart as heaven and earth. 
 
 So reduced had these prisoners become, that they were 
 wholly unfit for duty, and when Howe proposed to exchange 
 them, Washington refused to give the same number of 
 healthy British and Hessian soldiers. Howe then accused 
 him of violating the agreement made between them. 
 Washington retorted in a withering letter, in which, after 
 
230 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 
 
 declaring that an exchange of strong, healthy soldiers for 
 sick and helpless ones would be putting a premium on in- 
 humanity, and that an agreement to exchange prisoners was 
 based on the principle of equality, in not recognizing which 
 he was really the one guilty of violating the compact, he 
 adds, " It may, perhaps, be fairly doubted whether an ap- 
 prehension of their death, or that of a great part of them, 
 did not contribute somewhat to their being sent out when 
 they were. Such an event whilst they remained with you would 
 have been tndy interesting; because it would have destroyed 
 every shadow of claim for a return of the prisoners in our 
 hands ; and therefore policy concurring with humanity dic- 
 tated that the measure should be adopted. Happy had it 
 been if the expedient had been thought of before these ill- 
 fated men were reduced to such extremity." He also ac- 
 cuses him directly of treating the prisoners in his hands 
 cruelly, and thus causing the death of large numbers. 
 
 The measures proposed for an exchange of prisoners thus 
 became embarrassed, and were not carried out until some time 
 afterward. The balance of prisoners against the Americans 
 after the battle of Princeton was about one thousand. The 
 British having taken in all a little less than five thousand, 
 and the Americans about four thousand. 
 
 Spring opened without any general movement on the part 
 of Howe. This was fortunate for Washington, as the en- 
 listments for the war or for three years went on slowly, and 
 the new levies arrived tardily and at long intervals, leaving 
 the army weak and unable to offer any effectual resistance 
 to Howe if he had taken the field vigorously. But he too 
 was waiting for reinforcements, and tents and field equip- 
 ments. In April, however, he sent Governor Try on with 
 ten thousand men to destroy the stores at Danbury. But 
 this officer was chased back to his ships by Arnold and 
 Wooster ; the latter, though nearly three score and ten, gal- 
 lantly leading on his men till shot down by the enemy. 
 
T E A U I X a JJ U \V X STATUE OF U E K G E III. 
 
LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 233 
 
 Another exjDedition Avas sent against Peekskill. These, 
 however, Avere mere by 2^''*'^yS' ^o occupy the troops till the 
 time for a grand and decided movement should arrive. 
 
 Meanwhile Washington waited the further development 
 of the plans of the enemy. The troops assembling from 
 the East he ordered to concentrate at Peekskill, while those 
 from the Middle States and Virginia were directed to join 
 him at Morristown. It was evident that an enterprise was 
 on foot, designed to crush the colonies at once, but in which 
 direction the blow was about to fall remained in obscurity. 
 A storm was brewing on the Canadian frontier, and whether 
 Howe was preparing to cooperate with any movement in 
 that direction, or push his way on to Philadelj)hia, could 
 only be conjectured. 
 
 In the meantime, internal troubles continued to vex and 
 embarrass the commander-in-chief even more than the con 
 duct of the enemy. The constant reports of men deserting — 
 letters from officers all over the country, com^^laining of the 
 neglect and injustice of Congress, and offering their resig- 
 nation — the want of money and a commissary-general fur- 
 nished daily and almost hourly annoyances which he had 
 no power to escape. To some, like Arnold, he replied in 
 the language of friendship and sympathy, to others he wrote 
 sternly and rebukingly. Sullivan received a severe repri- 
 mand for his childish complaints about not being entrusted 
 with a separate command. Gates a lighter one, for asserting 
 that an equal distribution of tents, etc. was not made to 
 the different sections of the army. While the different 
 military departments were thus exhibiting only weakness, 
 Lieut. Col. Meigs, a comjDanion of Arnold in his bold march 
 through the wilderness, showed what a single enterprising 
 officer could do. Embarking on the 21st of May from New 
 Haven, he sailed for Guilford, and there taking with him 
 a hundred and seventy men, in whale-boats, crossed over to 
 Southold, and dragging his boats over land to the bay be- 
 
 13 
 
23^ LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 
 
 tween the north and south branches of the island, pushed 
 on to Sag Harbor, where he arrived at two o'clock in the 
 morning, and immediately with fixed bayonets charged the 
 outposts of the British stationed there. The alarm was in- 
 stantly given, and an armed schooner with twelve guns and 
 seventy men opened its fire upon the Americans within less 
 than thirty rods. The gallant detachment, however, pressed 
 forward, driving the enemy before them, and having killed 
 and captured nearly a hundred men, and destroyed twelve 
 brigs and sloops and a large quantity of merchandise, retired 
 without the loss of a man. Col. Meigs reached Guilford 
 at two o'clock in the afternoon, having marched and rowed 
 ninety miles in twenty-five hours, besides fighting the ene- 
 my and destroying his ships and stores. 
 
 At length "Washington moved his army, [May 21,] four- 
 teen thousand strong, to Middlebrook, and intrenched himself 
 in a strong position, resolved to give battle if the enemy ad- 
 vanced. Howe, who had collected a large force at Brunswick, 
 only nine miles distant, [June 31 ,] jDushed his lines into the 
 country until his left rested on Millstone. Here he remained 
 a week, hoping to tempt Washington from his stronghold to 
 battle. But the latter having long before discovered what 
 his raw troops were worth in an open field fight, refused to stir 
 from his position. Howe then returned to Brunswick, 
 evacuated it, and retreated to Amboy, pursued and harassed 
 by General Greene, with three regiments. "Washington 
 followed with the main army to Quibbletown. The moment 
 Howe saw that he had decoyed Washington out into the 
 open country, wheeled, and marched swiftly to the Ameri- 
 can left, hoping to turn it and gain the high ground beyond. 
 Had he succeeded, a battle would have been inevitable. 
 Washington, however, was too quick for him. The roar 
 of cannon, and heavy explosions of small arms in that 
 direction, as the enemy came in collision with a detachment 
 of seven hundred Americans, revealed the well-laid scheme. 
 
LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 235 
 
 Though severely pressed, he fell back, and reached his 
 strong position at Middlebrook in safetj^. As soon as Howe 
 saw Washington quietly in his den again, he gave up all 
 attempts to bring on an engagement, and, abruptly leaving 
 the Jerseys, passed over to Staten Island. Washington, who 
 from boyhood had shown a peculiar love of agricultural 
 pursuits, indeed seems to have had a positive attachment to 
 the soil, saw with pleasure the withdrawal of the troops. 
 It pained him deeply to behold the green fields ready for 
 the mower, filled with the marching columns, and the ripen- 
 ing grain trampled down by the ruthless hoof of war, or 
 wrapt in conflagration. In a letter to Armstrong, he says, 
 " The evacuation of Jersey at this time seems to be a pecu- 
 liar mark of Providence, as the inhabitants have an oppor- 
 tunity of securing their harvests of hay and grain." The 
 farmer was never forgotten in the warrior, and the husband- 
 man always received his peculiar attention. 
 
 The relief which this apparent abandonment of all im- 
 mediate attempts against Philadelphia gave, was only 
 momentary, for on the very next day a courier arrived in 
 camp, bringing the astounding intelligence that Burgoyne, 
 with ten thousand men, an artillery train of forty pieces, the 
 whole commanded by officers of experience and renown, 
 had crossed the St. Lawrence from Canada, and was moving 
 against Ticonderoga. Whether Howe, under these cir- 
 cumstances, would renew his attempts against Philadelphia, 
 or endeavor to form a junction with Burgoyne, and thus 
 separate the New England provinces from their brethren, 
 was the important problem which Washington endeavored 
 to solve. If the former course was adopted he must hover 
 around Philadelphia ; if the latter, his army could not be 
 too soon in the strong passes of the Highlands. Howe was 
 certainly collecting a large fleet, and evidently either for 
 the purpose of ascending the Hudson, or of going by sea to 
 Philadelphia. At length news was brought that the British 
 
236 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 
 
 army was embarking. Wasliington immediately dispatched 
 Lord Stirling to Peekskill, while he himself, still uncertain 
 of the enemy's purpose, slowly followed by way of Ramapo, 
 and finally encamped in the pass of the Clove. In the 
 meantime he ordered the two brigades of Parsons and 
 Varnum from the east to Peekskill — wrote to Governor 
 Clinton to call out the militia, and hastened off a courier to 
 Schuyler, who commanded in the northern department, to 
 hold on to Ticonderoga. All eyes were suddenly turned to 
 the northward, where the great and decisive conflict seemed 
 about to take place. Roused by the impending danger, the 
 settlers along the rich banks of the Mohawk, and the hardy 
 yeomanry of Vermont and Massachusetts, and Connecticut 
 and New York left their fields burdened with the rich pro- 
 mise of a coming harvest, and hastened to strike hands and 
 move shoulder to shoulder with the battle-cry of freedom 
 "on their lips, against the common invader. 
 
 But while Burgoyne was slowly pushing the heads of his 
 massive columns through the northern wilderness, the fleet 
 of Howe hoisted sail and moved slowly down toward the 
 Hook. The news no sooner reached Washington than he 
 dispatched messengers to Sullivan and Stirling, at Peekskill, 
 ordering them instantly to recross the Hudson, and hasten 
 by the most direct routes to the banks of the Delaware^ 
 where he would wait their arrival. But though the vessels 
 were moving seaward, he was still doubtful of Howe's de- 
 signs, and resolved to remain where he was till he could 
 ascertain them more fully. At length it was reported that 
 the ships had been seen off the Capes of the Delaware. The 
 army was then marched rapidly to Germantown, and Wash- 
 ington hurried forward to Chester, to gather more accurate 
 intelligence. Here he was told that the fleet had again 
 stood to the eastward and disappeared. Baffled by this 
 strange conduit — without the least data to act on, Washing- 
 ton was compelled to base his movements entirely on con- 
 
LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 2Lo7 
 
 jecture. It was plain that nothing could be done till the 
 enemy's plans developed themselves more fully. He, there- 
 fore, ordered Sullivan to take post in New Jersey, ready to 
 move in either direction, while the main army was quar- 
 tered at Germantown, prepared to march at a moment's 
 warning. 
 
 While things were in this harassing and trying state of 
 suspense, Washington rode over to Philadelphia, to confer a 
 day or two with committees of Congress. He here, for the 
 first time, met the young Marquis of Lafayette, whose ar- 
 dent and noble espousal of our cause eventually Avrought 
 such a change in our prospects. A mere stripling, eighteen 
 years of age, rolling in wealth, and basking in the sunshine 
 of court favor, he tore himself away from all the luxuries 
 that surrounded him — from the arms of a young and af- 
 fectionate wife, whose expostulations and reproaches were 
 harder to be borne than the threats of his friends and frowns 
 of his king, to struggle in an almost hopeless cause, in a 
 foreign land. Purchasing a vessel, and clothing and arms 
 for soldiers at his own expense, he, with the brave De Kalb 
 and eleven other officers set sail for America. After a voy- 
 age of nearl}?- two months, he reached Charleston, and, dis- 
 tributing arms and clothing to a hundred and fifty of the 
 gallant defenders of Sullivan's Island, mounted his horse and 
 rode nine hundred miles to Philadelphia. 
 
 Silas Deane had been for some time our minister at Paris, 
 and with Franklin and Arthur Lee, who were afterward 
 added to the embassy, was endeavoring to enlist France in 
 our struggle. With the former young Lafayette had made 
 an agreement respecting the rank he was to hold in the rebel 
 army. But Congress received the letters which he presented 
 coldly, for it had been much embarrassed of late with ap- 
 plications of foreign officers for appointments, which, if 
 made, would deeply offend our own officers. Only a few 
 we.eks before, Knox, Greene, and Sullivan, hearing that a 
 
238 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 
 
 Frenchman by the name of Decoudray, had been appointed 
 major-general, his appointment to be antedated, so as to out- 
 rank them, abruptly sent in their resignations. Besides all 
 other considerations Lafayette was a mere boy, only nineteen 
 years of age, and could not be considered fit for a position 
 of responsibility. Being told that his request would proba- 
 bly be denied, he sat down and wrote a note to Congress, 
 saying — " After the sacrifices I have made, I have the right 
 to exact two favors; one is to serve at my own expense, the other 
 to serve at first as a volunteer." This magnanimity was too 
 much for Congress, and it immediately made out his com- 
 mission. The next day he was introduced to Washington 
 at a dinner party. As it was about breaking up, the latter 
 took him aside and spoke to him long and tenderly. The 
 tall, commanding general of nearly fifty, and that youth of 
 nineteen, presented a most interesting contrast as the one 
 spoke of freedom, and the other stood and reverently 
 listened, every feature beaming with excitement. There 
 was something in the enthusiastic love for liberty of this 
 young stranger — the revelation of an exalted purpose, not 
 to be shaken by neglect or suffering — a noble, unselfish de- 
 votion, so unlike the petty rivalries, groundless jealousies, 
 and selfish behavior of some of his own officers, that touched 
 the tenderest chord of Washington's nature. His great, 
 grand heart opened to him at once like a fiither, and from 
 that hour Lafayette became a son, returning the wealth of 
 affection lavished on him with all the devotion of his im- 
 pulsive, impassioned, generous nature. Washington told 
 him to consider himself at all times as one of his own 
 family, but he must not expect to find in the republican 
 army, the luxuries of a court, or the comforts even of an 
 ordinary camp. Both the one and the other were indifferent 
 to Lafayette, who had already triumphed over infinitely 
 greater difficulties, and endured more suffering than could 
 be meted out to him in the American army. That night he 
 
LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 239 
 
 sent his horses and equipage to camp, and became an Ameri- 
 can soldier. His after career in connection with our cause, 
 and with Washington, furnishes some of the most interest- 
 ing incidents in American history. That apparently boyish 
 enthusiasm proved to be the solid judgment and inherent 
 principles of the man, and as he stood in all the fiery ardor 
 of youth before Washington, so he afterward stood with 
 white locks amid the infuriated mobs of Paris and Ver- 
 sailles. The impression Washington made on him may be 
 inferred from the letter describing his first interview. In 
 it he says — " Although he was surrounded by officers and 
 citizens, it was impossible to mistake for a moment his ma- 
 jestic figure and dejDortment." His surprise, however, at 
 the army was equal to his admiration of Washington. On 
 the very day he arrived in camp there was a grand review 
 of the whole eleven thousand men, and the young marquis 
 never before even in imagination beheld such a spectacle. 
 Many were in their shirt sleeves — many without any shirts 
 to their backs, their whole uniform consisting of a pair of 
 pantaloons, while the majority of those who were clad wore 
 simply long linen hunting-shirts. These were drawn up in 
 two long lines — the smaller soldiers occupying the first 
 line — presenting a most striking contrast to the military 
 bearing and manner of their commander. "As to their 
 military tactics," he wrote home, " it will be sufficient to say 
 that for a regiment ranged in order of battle, to move forward on 
 the right of its line it was necessary for the left to make a con- 
 tinued countermarch.'' The next day Washington took 
 Lafayette with him to inspect the fortifications of the Dela- 
 ware. As they rode along together, the former soon dis- 
 covered that his young protege possessed a knowledge of 
 military matters by which the oldest generals in the service 
 might profit. 
 
 Though Congress continued its sessions in apparent tran- 
 quillity, the greatest excitement prevailed throughout the 
 
240 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 
 
 city and country. Sentinels were on every high peak that 
 overlooked the ocean, sweeping the water in every direction 
 with glasses to detect the first appearance of the fleet, whose 
 approach was so much dreaded. But day after day passed 
 by, and still no tidings of it came from the seaboard. At 
 last the lookouts caught a glimpse of it, leagues away to 
 the south of the capes of Delaware. Washington imme- 
 diately inferred that its destination was south, probably 
 Charleston. Ten days more passed by, and as nothing 
 further was seen of it, a council of war was called, in which 
 it was resolved to march back toward the Hudson, either to 
 operate against Burgoyne, or, if circumstances proved fa- 
 vorable, to attack New York. Every thing was got ready 
 to march, when on that very morning the exciting report was 
 brought that the fleet was already two hundred miles up the 
 Chesapeake Bay, and standing steadily on. It was now evi- 
 dent that Philadelphia was the object of attack, though, as 
 Washington said, the enemy had taken a strange route to 
 reach it. This at once relieved him from all indecision re- 
 specting the northern army. Previous to this, not only was 
 he annoyed beyond measure by the surrender of Ticonde- 
 roga, the defense of which had been entrusted to St. Clair, 
 but at the apparently resistless manner in which Burgoyne 
 moved southward. He had sent the gallant Morgan with 
 his five hundred riflemen north, and in announcing it to 
 Governor Clinton said he thought it would be a good plan 
 to let the fact be pretty well circulated, as well as to ex- 
 aggerate their numbers, for these troops were the terror of 
 the Indians. In this, which is dated on the very day of the 
 battle of Bennington, he speaks of Stark's intention to close 
 on Burgoyne's rear as a most excellent plan. As things 
 grew worse and worse. Congress recalled both Schuyler and 
 St. Clair, and put Gates over the northern army. Wash- 
 ington had also sent Arnold north, a host in himself. Still, 
 so long as Howe's movements remained undeveloped he could 
 

 YOUNG CALLENDER FIGIITIXG HIS GUN. 
 
LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 243 
 
 not call on the New England states to hasten to New York 
 state to resist the mvasion of Burgoyne. But now all im- 
 mediate danger to the eastern board was removed, and he 
 wrote to Putnam to press on Governor Trumbull the urgent 
 necessity of getting the whole force of New England " to 
 turn out, and by following the great stroke struck by General 
 Stark near Bennington, entirely crush General Burgoyne.'' 
 
 In the meantime the militia from Delaware, Maryland 
 and Pennsylvania turned out, and the country was alive 
 with armed citizens, hastening to the defense of Philadel- 
 phia. Sullivan, who had just been rudely repulsed in an 
 attack on Staten Island, was also ordered from the Jerseys, 
 and the army soon assumed a formidable appearance, at 
 least in magnitude. 
 
 At length the reconnoitering parties came in and an- 
 nounced that the enemy were landing near the head of Elk 
 river. [Aug. 25th.] Washington advanced to meet them, 
 and taking Philadelphia in his route, marched through the 
 city with flying banners and martial music, cheered by the 
 multitude. This was done to encourage the patriots and 
 check the movements of the disaffected and disloyal. The 
 next day after the British effected a landing a heavy rain 
 storm set in, which deluged both friends and foes, and in- 
 jured the arms and ammunition of each. Washington at 
 the outset sent forward skirmishing parties to harass the 
 enemy, while he pressed on with the main army. Between 
 these and the advance detachments of the British severe 
 conflicts took place, ending, of course, in the retreat of the 
 Americans, as the heavy columns of their adversaries closed 
 upon them. On the 28th the Americans took some forty 
 prisoners. Twenty deserters also arrived in camp, who 
 stated that the infantry of the enemy was in good condi- 
 tion, but that the horses were knocked up by their long 
 voyage. This was fortunate, as Washington's cavalry, under 
 
244 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 
 
 Pulaski,* was too feeble to cope with any considerable force, 
 while the country presented an admirable field for the move- 
 ments of horse. 
 
 The next day Captain Lee took twenty- four more prison- 
 ers. Five days after, Cornwallis, while advancing with his 
 column, was suddenly assailed by Maxwell's regiment, the 
 riflemen of which, having formed a sort of ambuscade, 
 poured in a deadly fire upon him. But swept by the ar- 
 tillery and pressed by the formidable masses of the enemy, 
 this brave regiment was compelled to retire with the loss 
 of forty killed and wounded. The British reported their 
 loss to be twenty-two, though a woman from their camp 
 next day said she saw nine wagon loads of wounded brought 
 in. They doubtless suffered more severely than they ac- 
 knowledged ; in fact, as a rule, it was always safe to multi- 
 ply the current account given by the enemy of their loss 
 by three. The two armies had continued to draw closer 
 together, and now stood front to front, and a battle was 
 daily expected. Philadelphia was the prize to be struggled 
 for, and Howe and Washington both determined that the 
 conflict should be a decisive one. The latter took position 
 behind Red Clay Creek, directly across the route leading to 
 the city. Howe then advanced, and being joined by General 
 Grant, made a feint to attack the Americans, but instead of 
 concentrating his forces at the assailing point, extended his 
 lines far away to the American right. The two armies 
 were now only two miles apart, and threatened momentarily 
 to come in collision, when Howe ordered a halt. Washing- 
 ton, whose experience during the last campaign had taught 
 him to distrust every movement of Howe, soon discovered 
 that a flank movement was being made to cut him ofi" from 
 
 * Previous to this there had been no officer in the cavalry of higher rank than 
 colonel. Reed, after being made brigadier, was offered the command, but declined. 
 It was then given to Count Pulaski, a Polish officer of great distinction and 
 bravery. 
 
LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 245 
 
 Philadelphia, and hem him in on a narrow tongue of land 
 from which escape would be impossible, and where he would 
 be compelled under disadvantageous circumstances to fight 
 a decisive battle. He therefore, after carefully reconnoi- 
 tering the enemy, passed the order quietly through the 
 camjD to march, and at two o'clock in the morning of the 
 9th of September withdrew his army toward the Brandy- 
 wine, and crossing the river, took possession of the high 
 grounds on the opposite side, near Chad's Ford. 
 
 While Pennsylvania, New Jersey, Delaware and Mary- 
 land were gazing with mingled expectations and fears on the 
 two armies under Washington and Howe, as they slowly 
 closed on each other, and the whole country was filled with 
 conflicting rumors, agitating and cheering by turns, the 
 works were rapidly going up at Saratoga, from which waa 
 to recoil the veteran army of Burgojme. Stark had dealt 
 him a staggering blow by his victory over Baum at Ben- 
 nington, while Gansevoort's gallant defense of Fort Stanwix, 
 had frustrated his plans in that direction. From every val- 
 ley and mountain slope the sturdy yeomanry went pouring 
 in to Gates, their patriotism kindled into brighter glow by 
 the shouts of victory that came rolling from Vermont, and 
 down the Mohawk from Fort Stanwix and the bloody field 
 of Oriskany; and their rage redoubled to see the enemy 
 with his ruthless savage allies in the very midst of their 
 autumnal fields, and ravaging the firesides of the innocent 
 and the helpless. Washington's anxiety for the fate of the 
 northern army was equal to that for his own, and he listened 
 with as deep a solicitude for the reports that might reach 
 him thence, as he did to the thunder of the enemy's cannon 
 in his front. In the meantime, Burgoyne finding himself 
 cut off from the assistance of St. Leger by way of the Mo- 
 hawk, and a dark storm-cloud gathering in his rear, extin- 
 guishing the last hope that illumined the weary wilderness 
 he had traversed, and seeing a mighty army rising as it 
 
246 LIFE OP WASHINGTON. 
 
 were from the very earth before him, surveyed with a stem 
 and gloomy eye the prospect that surrounded him. The 
 second crisis in the American Revolution had come. With 
 the simultaneous defeat of the northern and southern armies 
 the nation would be prostrated, and the last hope of securing 
 the alliance of France extinguished. Two such calamities 
 would darken the land with despair, and fill the friends of 
 freedom every where with despondency and gloom. 
 
LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 247 
 
 CHAPTER TX. 
 
 Battle of Brandywine — A new account of the loss of the British, found among 
 General Clinton's papers — Washington again offers Howe battle — Defeat of 
 Wayne at Paoli — Philadelphia taken — Fortifications erected at Mud Bank and 
 Red Bank — Tenacity of Washington — Battle of Germantown — Cause of the De- 
 feat of the Americans. 
 
 On the morning of the 11th of September the American 
 army, eleven thousand strong, lay stretched along the Bran- 
 dywine, whose shallow bed at that time, the stream being 
 very low, furnished frequent fording-places. Washington 
 concentrated his main force against the most important of 
 these, called Chads' Ford. The right wing, comjDosed of 
 the three brigades of Sullivan, Stirling, and Stephens, ex- 
 tended up the river, to look out for the fords in that direction, 
 while Armstrong with a thousand militia guarded Pyles' Ford, 
 the only one below. At daybreak Howe put half of his 
 force under Cornwallis, and accompanying it in person, took 
 a road running nearly parallel with the Brandywine, a few 
 miles inland, for the purpose of ascending the stream be- 
 yond the farthest outposts of the American army, and cross- 
 ing it unperceived, come down on Washington's flank. This 
 extraordinary movement, by which an army was separated 
 seventeen miles, a movement similar to one which, but from 
 mere accident or treachery, would have overthrown the 
 allies at Waterloo, here also, by a strange fatuity, was 
 destined to be completely successful. It was a foggy morn- 
 ing, and a dense forest darkened the bank of the stream, on 
 the side where the British lay, almost the entire distance. 
 About nine o'clock Knyphausen, with the other division of 
 the army, took up his line of march directly for Chads' 
 Ford, where Wayne commanded. The fog soon lifted and 
 
Z48 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 
 
 rolled away, and the long lines of gleaming bayonets looked 
 like streams of light through the forest, as in beautiful 
 order, and to the sound of fife and drum the columns 
 pushed their way to the river. But the woods as they pro- 
 ceeded seemed alive with Americans, who, concealed by the 
 thick foliage, kept up an incessant attack upon the advance 
 parties and strewed the green uniforms thickly under the 
 greener arcades. Maxwell, who commanded them, made 
 such havoc with his sharp-shooters that a strong corps was 
 sent against him, which forced him back upon the Brandy- 
 wine. Here, met by reinforcements, he turned furiously 
 on his pursuers, driving them before him till they closed 
 in with the main column. Knyphausen then sent a large 
 detachment to take Maxwell in flank, but the latter de- 
 tecting the movement, ordered a retreat and recrossed to 
 Wayne. Having cleared the woods of the enemy, Knyp- 
 hausen moved forward and drew up his division on the bank 
 and began to plant his cannon. The Americans were in 
 high spirits, and several detachments boldly dashed into the 
 stream, and securing a footing on the farther side, fell with 
 loud shouts on the working parties and those detailed to 
 guard them. Knyphausen, enraged at these constant and 
 bold attacks, ordered forward a large force, which advancing 
 to the charge forced the Americans to a rapid retreat. 
 They came on a run through the water which was dashed 
 into spray by the shower of bullets that fell around them. 
 In the meantime Knyphausen opened a heavy cannonade 
 on Wayne, who returned it with spirit, and to all appear- 
 ance the main effort was to be made at this ford. The 
 former manoeuvered his troops so as to convey the impres- 
 sion of a much larger force than he possessed, while at the 
 same time he was apparently making extensive preparations 
 for an immediate assault on Wayne's battery. While 
 Washington was watching the effect of this heavy cannon- 
 ade, Sullivan, who had been ordered to take care of the 
 
LIFE OF WASHINaTON. 249 
 
 fords above him, received the following note from Lieu- 
 tenant-Colonel Ross : ' 
 
 " Great Valley Road, 11 o'clock, a. m. 
 
 Dear General, — A large body of the enemy, from every 
 account five thousand, with sixteen or eighteen field-pieces, 
 marched along this road just now. This road leads to Tay- 
 lor's Ferry, and Jeffrey's Ferry on the Brandywine, and to 
 the Great Valley at the sign of the Ship, on the Lancaster 
 Road to Philadelphia. There is also a road from the Brandy- 
 wine to Chester, by Dilworthstown. We are close in their 
 rear with about seventy men. Captain Simpson lay in am- 
 bush with twenty men, and gave them three rounds within 
 a small distance, in which two of his men were wounded, 
 one mortally, I believe. General Howe is with this party, 
 as Joseph Galloway is here known by the inhabitants, with 
 whom he spoke and told them that General Howe was with 
 him. Yours, James Boss, 
 
 Lieutenant -Colonel. 
 
 Here was accurate information from a responsible officer, 
 and every road designated by him should have been secured 
 beyond the Brandywine. Ross had seen the army, nay, 
 fired into it, and was steadily following it in its rapid march 
 up the river. Its destination was apparent to the most 
 casual observer, and how, after such information, Sullivan 
 could allow himself to be surprised by an army of five 
 thousand men, dragging a heavy train of artillery after them 
 baffles all explanation. 
 
 Washington immediately penetrated Howe's design, and 
 resolved to defeat it by sending Sullivan to occupy him, 
 while he, with the rest of the army, would cross over, and 
 falling on Knyphausen in rear and front at the same time, 
 crush him before the other division could arrive. This 
 daring resolution was the inspiration of true genius, and had 
 it been carried into effect, Brandywine would doubtles have 
 been another Saratoga to the British. He issued his orders 
 
^' 
 
 250 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 
 
 at once, and riding along the lines to animate the troops, 
 was received with loud huzzas; and "long live Washington," 
 rolled over the field. General Greene was ordered to lead 
 the advance, and crossing above Knyphausen assail him in 
 flank and rear. In a few minutes the field was alive with 
 the marching columns. At this critical moment another 
 aid came gallophig in from Sullivan, who reported no ene- 
 my around the forks of the Brandy wine. This was a fatal 
 mistake, and Washington immediately reversed his orders, 
 and the army again took up its former position. It was 
 now high noon, and Knyphausen having received dispatches 
 from Cornwallis announcing that the river was won, ojDcned 
 on the Americans with a tremendous discharge of artillery 
 and musketry, so as still more to confirm the delusion under 
 which he saw Washington was evidently laboring. 
 
 In the meantime Cornwallis had formed his troops on 
 the banks of the stream, and was coming rapidly down on 
 Sullivan's flank. 
 
 A Squire Cheney, reconnoitering on his own responsibility 
 the movements of the enemy, suddenly came upon the ad- 
 vance as he was ascending a hill. He immediately wheeled 
 his horse, a fleet, high-spirited animal, and dashed away to- 
 ward head-quarters. Shots were fired at him, but he escaped 
 and reached the American army in safety. To his startling 
 declaration that the main body of the enemy was on his 
 own side of the stream, and coming rapidly down upon 
 him, Washington replied that it was impossible, for he had 
 just received contrary information. " You are mistaken Gen- 
 eral, my life for it you are mistaken,''^ exclaimed Cheney, and 
 carried away by the great peril that threatened the Ameri- 
 cans, added, " By h — 11 it is so ; put me under guard until 
 you find my story true," and, stooping down, he drew a 
 rough draft of the road in the sand. In a few moments a 
 hurried note from Sullivan confirmed the disastrous tidings. 
 The enemy were only two miles from the Birmingham 
 
VYA&III^UTO^ l.NDEA\ORI>.G TO RALLY THE FUGITIVES 
 
LIFE OF AVASHINGTON. 253 
 
 Meeting-House, which was but three miles from Chads' 
 Ford. Washington saw at once the fatal error into which 
 he had been beguiled by the false information of Sullivan, 
 and saw, too, that in all human probability the day was lost. 
 Suddenly calling to his side his aids, he asked if there was 
 any one near acquainted with the country, who could guide 
 him by the shortest route to Birmin2i;ham Meetino--House. 
 An elderly man named Brown, living in the vicinity, was 
 instantly seized and asked to act as guide. He began to 
 make excuses, when one of Washington's aids, mounted on 
 a splendid charger, lea^^ed to the ground and told the old 
 man to mount at once, and conduct the General by the 
 shortest, quickest route to the meeting-house, or he would 
 run him through with his sword. Alarmed by the threat, 
 Brown mounted and pushed straight across the country, his 
 high-bred animal taking the fences in his course like a 
 hunter. Washington with his suite pressed after, and 
 though the old man seemed to fly over the fields and fences, 
 the head of Washington's horse constantly lapped the flank 
 of the animal he rode, and there rung continually in his 
 ears from the excited, anxious chieftain by his side, '' Push 
 along old man ; push along old man." The fate of his army 
 was trembling in the balance, and no fleetness could equal 
 his burning impatience to be at the point where it was so 
 soon to be decided, for already the loud roar of cannon and 
 rattle of musketry ahead, told him that the shock had come. 
 The tremendous cannonading at Chads' Ford, blending in 
 with that around Birmingham Meeting-House, needed no 
 additional confirmation of the deep disaster that had over- 
 taken him. As he approached the scene of conflict the 
 balls fell so thick around him that the old man stole away. 
 His absence was unnoticed, for his services were no longer 
 needed ; the roar of battle and shouts of men were a suffi- 
 cient guide. When Washington first set out he had ordered 
 
 Greene to advance with his division, as fast as possible, to 
 
 14 
 
254 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 
 
 the support of Sullivan. The latter with two brigades im- 
 mediately pushed forward. The brigade under Weadon led 
 off, and starting on a trot, with trailed arms, made the four 
 miles that intervened between them and the enemy in the 
 astonishingly short time of forty minutes. Not a sound was 
 heard from this noble brigade save the clatter of their arms 
 and panting of the men as shoulder to shoulder they swept 
 like cavalry to the rescue of their comjianions. 
 
 Sullivan had been completely taken by surprise, but with 
 his accustomed bravery strove to remedy the error that had 
 been committed. Rapidly advancing to a gentle slope near 
 the meeting-house, he formed his line in an open space, 
 each extremity resting on thick woods. But in executing a 
 manoeuvre designed to thwart a French General Deborre, 
 who insisted on occupying the right of the line contrary to 
 his orders, his brigade did not arrive on the field in time to 
 get fully into position before the action commenced. Howe 
 on his huge raw-boned horse, Cornwallis glittering in scar- 
 let and gold, together with other officers, sat grouped on 
 Osborne Hill, and watched with unfeigned surprise the beau- 
 tiful, regular formation of the American line. 
 
 Tlie battle was commenced by an advance company of 
 Hessians, who crossed the road, and resting their pieces on 
 the fence fired at a small body of Americans in an adjoin- 
 ing orchard. Soon the field was piled with baggage, blan- 
 kets, etc., thrown aside under the opj)ressive heat, and the 
 troops went pouring forward to the conflict. The artillery 
 opened, and the contest became close and murderous. The 
 American troops, though most of them were undisciplined 
 militia, behaved with astonishing coolness. From their 
 steady, deliberate volleys the disciplined ranks of the enemy 
 recoiled in amazement. The chasseurs came charging down 
 the slope with clattering armor and to the sound of trum- 
 pets, but could not break the firm formation. Grenadiers 
 and guards were each and all hurled back, but the over- 
 
LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 255 
 
 whelming numbers continued to pour forward, bearing down 
 by mere weight alone the American ranks, till at last they 
 began to shake and undulate over the field. Sullivan, who 
 had seen two of his aids fall by his side, galloped along the 
 disordered line, and strove by word and gesture to animate 
 the soldiers to another effort. But his example and appeals 
 were alike in vain. First the right and then the left wing 
 broke and fled toward Chads' Ford. Finding his troops 
 could not be rallied, he then separated from them, and 
 threw himself into a part of Stirling's division, in the cen- 
 tre, which still heroically maintained its ground. Here was 
 also the youthful Lafayette, kindling by voice and gesture 
 the enthusiasm of the men. Dismounting from his horse 
 he passed through the ranks exposing himself like a com-' 
 mon soldier, when a musket ball pierced his leg. Corn- 
 wallis seeing with what stubborn resolution this band of 
 eight hundred men maintained their ground, ordered his ar- 
 tillery to be concentrated upon them. The effect was instan- 
 taneous, and the troops, scourged into madness by the close, 
 deadly fire, fled to the woods for protection. Washington, 
 in the meantime, had ordered Greene to take possession of 
 Dilworth's Pass, and hold it against the enemy. He did 
 so, and as the fugitive Americans came on he would open 
 his ranks and let them flow to the rear, then close again and 
 present a firm front to the enemy. 
 
 The heavy conflict at Birmingham Meeting-House, and 
 the sudden departure of Greene's division, was the signal 
 for Knyphausen to advance. The head of his column en- 
 tered the stream under the protection of the heavy batteries, 
 and though severely shaken by Wayne's artillery, pressed 
 firmly forward. The American force was too small to resist 
 half the whole British army for any length of time, and 
 though Wayne bore up nobly against the unequal numbers 
 for awhile, he saw, after Sullivan's defeat, that a retreat was 
 inevitable. This, however, was hastened, in fact became a 
 
256 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 
 
 flight, at the appearance of a large body of the enemy 
 emerging from the woods above him, and hastening along 
 the banks of the Bnmdywine, to take him in flank and rear. 
 Leaving behind all their stores and artillery, the broken and 
 disordered columns helped to swell still more the tumultu- 
 ous torrent that rolled on. Greene, however, firmly main- 
 tained his position amid the turbulence and uproar of the 
 pursuit and the flight, and unshaken alike by the wreck that 
 tossed around him, and the assaults of the victorious and 
 confident enemy, saved the army from destruction. Behind 
 him, as an impregnable rampart, the defeated but not dis- 
 heartened troops rallied and demanded to be led again to 
 the attack. Muhlenburg and Weadon with their two bri- 
 " gades fought nobly to defend this pass. The latter was 
 formerly an innkeeper in Virginia — the former a clergyman 
 of the established church in the same state. The martial 
 spirit of the divine kindling at the wrongs heaped upon his 
 country, he preached his farewell sermon to his people, 
 saying at the close that there was a time to fight as well 
 as to pray, and that time had come. He had been pre- 
 viously elected colonel, and now taking ofi" his gown and 
 putting on his regimentals he walked amid his congregation, 
 and ordered the drum to beat for recruits at the church-door, 
 and before night had three hundred men at his back. He 
 did good service in the south, and here at the Pass of Dil 
 worth, covered his brigade with glory. During the battle 
 and the flight Washington had been everywhere present, 
 directing and guiding all things. Night was now drawing 
 on, and many of the oflicers enraged at the result of the 
 day's action, demanded to be led against the enemy. " You 
 must obey my orders," said Washington. " Our only re- 
 source is to retreat." Greene, whose blood was up from 
 the conflict and defeat, asked how fiir they must retreat. 
 " Over every hill and across every river in America if I order 
 you,^' was the stern reply. 
 
LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 257 
 
 As niglit came on the firing ceased, and the American 
 army retreated in confusion toward Chester. The roads 
 leading thither were crowded with men, some marching 
 with the order and discipUne becoming troops, others rush- 
 ing bhndly on through the gloom, haunted by the fear of 
 pursuit. The British encamped on the field of victory, 
 which was thickly strewn with friends and foes. But along 
 the slope where Stirling fought the dead lay thickest. 
 
 There is no battle recorded in our history respecting which 
 there has been such a diversity of oj)inion as that of Bran- 
 dy wine. Washington made no report of it to Congress, 
 and without any data but the verbal statements of tliose 
 who could give only conjectures, the historian has been 
 unable to come to any definite results. The British force 
 has been variously estimated at from eleven to seventeen 
 thousand. Their loss, as stated by Howe, and universally 
 conceded by Sparks and others, was only some six or seven 
 hundred, while that of the Americans ranged from one 
 thousand to fourteen hundred men. These figures have 
 always ajopeared to me incorrect, for several reasons. In 
 the first place, it was evident that the two main divisions 
 of the enemy averaged but from four to five thousand each, 
 so that eleven instead of seventeen or eighteen thousand 
 composed their actual force in the field. In the second 
 place, their loss seemed wholly at variance with the ac- 
 counts of the battle itself. It is generally conceded that 
 Maxwell's skirmishing parties killed and wounded three 
 hundred out of Knyphausen's division alone, before it 
 reached the Brandy wine. That Stirling, who fought like a 
 lion, and Greene, with his two gallant brigades, and Wayne, 
 who kept up a heavy cannonade for five or six hours, should 
 all together have killed and wounded only three hundred 
 more, is evidently absurd. Still, following our best authori- 
 ties, I have heretofore adopted their statements. But lately 
 I have fallen on a document which shows these statements 
 
258 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 
 
 to be wholly erroneous, and makes the facts more consistent 
 with reason. It was found among General James Clinton's 
 papers, carefully filed away and endorsed by himself On 
 the back, in his own hand writing, is inscribed — " Taken 
 from the enemy's Ledgers, ivhich fell into the hands of General 
 Washington's army at the action of Germantown." 
 Within is the following statement : 
 
 State of the British troops and position they were in when they made the attatJi 
 at Brandywine, the Wth September, 1777. 
 The Upper Ford, under the command of Lt. Lord Cornwallis. 
 2d Regiment British Guards, ) j.^^ ^^2 j.yj^^ ^^^ wounded.* 
 2d " Light Infantiy,^ 
 
 2d Brigade British Foot, 2240 3G0 " " 
 
 1st Division Hessians, 800 70 " " 
 
 Ferguson's Riflemen, 80 46 " " 
 
 Total, 48e0 1088 " " 
 
 Middle Ford, under the command of Major-General Gray. 
 2d Battalion Guards, - 500 
 
 2d " 2d Highlanders, 700 
 2d " 70th " 700 
 
 Total, 1900 
 
 Lower Ford, under command of Lt. General Ejijphausen. 
 2d Brigade, consisting of the 
 
 4th, 5th,10th, 15th, 23d, 27th, \ 2240 580 killed and wounded. 
 28th, 40th, 44th, 55th Reg'ts. 
 Hessians to the amount of 
 Queen's Rangers, 
 
 Total, 
 
 800 
 
 28 
 
 480 
 
 290 
 
 3520 
 
 898 
 
 1900 
 
 
 4860 
 
 1088 
 
 10,280 
 
 1986 
 
 1,986 
 
 
 The whole British force, 10,280 1986 killed and wounded 
 1,986 
 
 8,294 
 
 The estimate of the total force which the British had on 
 the field, makes the two armies actually engaged about 
 equal. The heavy loss here given seems at first sight al- 
 most incredible, and puts an entirely different aspect on the 
 
 * Where Lord Stirling's division fought. 
 
LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 259 
 
 battle. Of the autlienticitj and accuracy of this document 
 I think there can be no doubt. In the first place, Genei-al 
 Clinton is known to have been one of the most careful and 
 accurate men with his papers in the army, and he would 
 not have endorsed and filed away a document, the state- 
 ments of which were not well authenticated. In the second 
 place, the document itself bears the strongest prirria facie 
 evidence of its truth. Mere tables of figures without note 
 or comment are not apt to be flibrications. The registry as 
 given above could be nothing but a plain business paper. 
 In the third place, the loss corresponds more with the 
 length and severity of the battle, while all the details are 
 complete, even to the numbers of the regiments, battalions, 
 etc. The division under Gray was not in the battle, and 
 hence suffered no loss. The terrible manner in which the 
 Queen's Rangers were cut uj3, losing nearly three hundred 
 out of four hundred an(3i. eighty, is explained by the foct 
 that they were the troops sent against Maxwell in the woods, 
 where they received that severe drubbing mentioned in the 
 former part of the chapter. It is a little singular that the 
 loss of Knyphausen in the woods before reaching the Bran- 
 dywine should correspond so completely with the account 
 of Maxwell. So of Ferguson's riflemen, more than half, 
 according to this statement, were killed or wounded, show- 
 ing what we all know to be true, that whenever it came to 
 specific warfare, the picking off men in detail, the enemy 
 always suffered severely. In the last place, it explains 
 Howe's caution after the battle. He was evidently afraid to 
 meet Washington in open conflict, and refused again and 
 again to accept the battle which the latter endeavored to 
 force upon him. The fierce and desperate manner with 
 which the Americans fought after they had been com- 
 pletely outmanoeuvred — especially the firmness shown by 
 the militia against the heavy onsets of the British infantry, 
 made him afraid to risk another engagement, unless he had 
 
2G0 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 
 
 clearly the advantage of position. The French officers in 
 Stirling's division, with the exception of Deborre, by their 
 bravery and exhortations did noble service, and the untrained 
 troops were held to the fire with a steadiness that had not 
 before been exhibited in the open field. The difference 
 between a loss of six hundred and two thousand is certainly 
 very great, but it must be remembered that Howe was 
 in the heart of the enemy's country, and it was clearly his 
 policy, nay, it was necessary to his safety, to make that loss 
 appear as inconsiderable as possible. 
 
 Washington has been criticised for fighting this battle, 
 but the result instead of j^roving that he erred in judgment, 
 seems to me to show that his plans were sound and judicious. 
 It certainly never could have entered into any one's calcu- 
 lations that an army of five thousand men could march some 
 twenty or more miles, and in broad daylight approach within 
 two miles of Sullivan, and coolly kalt and eat their dinner, 
 without being discovered. 
 
 How Sullivan could have allowed the story of a major, 
 as is stated, who declared he had been along the upper fords 
 and could see no enemy, to overbalance the official declara- 
 tion of lieutenant-colonel Ross, that he was actually follow- 
 ing them toward the upper fords of the Brandywine, is 
 utterly incomprehensible. I know that he was deficient in 
 light-horse with which to scour the country, but after the 
 dispatch of Ross, the few roads that led to his flank should 
 have been constantly traversed for at least ten miles, even 
 if his own staff were compelled to perform the service. 
 Encamped in the open field, with a report in his hand stating 
 that Cornwallis was far above him, he allowed himself to be 
 surprised by a large army with a heavy train of artillery, 
 and attacked before he could fairly get in position. Whether 
 Sullivan be blameworthy or not, one thing is clear, such 
 errors on the part of connnanders of divisions will baffle 
 

 -^if-mf^ ^^ M/fV> 
 
 
 ' 'ii\(\^'/> 
 
 
 QUAKER LADY DETAINING THE ENGLISH GENERAL. 
 
LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 263 
 
 the wisest laid plans of a commander-iii-cliief, and make 
 every battle a defeat. 
 
 Had the troops fought on a fair field as thc}^ did on this 
 ruinous one, Washington would have stopped Howe's ad- 
 vance ; and had he acted on the first information and 
 crossed the Brandywine and attacked Knyphausen, he would, 
 in all probability, have completely ruined him. As it was, 
 the gallant manner in which the greater j^art of the army 
 behaved, elated him almost as much as a victory would have 
 done. Congress also, instead of being disheartened, took 
 courage, and immediately dispatched an order to General 
 Putnam, in the Highlands, to send on with all possible dis- 
 j)atch fifteen hundred continentals, while the militia from 
 the surrounding states were summoned to the field. Fore- 
 seeing that in all larobability Philadelphia would fall into 
 the hands of the enemy, it invested Washington with ex- 
 traordinary powers, to be used in case of its absence. He 
 was authorized to suspend officers for ill-conduct and ap- 
 point new ones, to forage the country for seventy miles 
 around for provisions and other articles necessary to the 
 army, and remove and secure all goods which might benefit 
 the enemy. 
 
 Undaunted by the repulse he had met with at Brandy- 
 wine, Washington, who the day after the battle had retreated 
 to Germantown, allowed his troops but a single day to rest, 
 when he recrossed the Schuylkill, and marched back to meet 
 Howe, and give him battle. His troops, though suffering 
 from long exposure, without sufficient clothing, a thousand 
 of them being barefooted, pressed cheerfully forward. The 
 latter had scarcely left Brandywine, when he was told that 
 the enemy was seeking him on the very field of his victory. 
 Grant and Cornwallis pushed forward in the direction of 
 Chester, while Howe, with the main body, advanced toward 
 the Lancaster Boad leading to Philadelphia. On arriving 
 at Goshen, twenty miles from the city, the lattef was told 
 
264 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 
 
 that Washington was only five miles distant, marching up 
 to give him battle. He immediately took position on a 
 hill, and in a short time the heads of Washington's columns 
 appeared in view. The latter continued steadily to advance, 
 directing his course against the left wing of the enemy, and 
 soon the sharp firing of the skirmishing parties began to 
 ring over the field. It was a dark and sombre afternoon, 
 and the overcast heavens every moment grew more threaten- 
 ing. Washington knowing what ruinous work a heavy rain 
 would make with the ammunition of his troops, cast an 
 anxious look at the clouds, but still pressed forward. Offi- 
 cers were seen hurrying over the field, the artillery was 
 brought forward, and the attacking columns were already in 
 motion when the long pent-up clouds opened, and a delage 
 of rain descended, flooding the field and drenching both 
 armies. It was one of those blinding, pelting rains, to which 
 both animals and man succumb, and its effect on the army 
 was like the sudden order to halt. The weary troops soaked 
 to their skins endeavored in vain to protect their ammunition. 
 The water penetrated everywhere. The powder was soon 
 wet, and the fire-locks rendered useless. The British army 
 was in no better condition, for, without a tent to cover them, 
 they had been exposed to the same storm. The rain con- 
 tinued all night, and a sorry night it was to the shivering 
 army, as it crouched in the open field, supperless and weary. 
 In the morning Washington ordered a retreat. He first 
 retired to Yellow Springs, and finally recrossed the Schuyl- 
 kill, resolved as soon as he could get his arms and ammuni- 
 tion in order, again to cross Howe's path, and fall on him 
 with his suffering but valorous little army. 
 
 In the meantime, however, he ordered Wayne, with fif- 
 teen hundred men, to hang on the skirts of the British, and, 
 if possible, cut off their baggage. This officer, making a 
 circuitous march, took, on the night of the 20tli, an ex- 
 cellent position, two miles from the Paoli Tavern, and three 
 
LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 265 
 
 miles from the British encampment. Howe, informed by 
 spies of Wayne's proximity, resolved to surprise him. The 
 latter, however, received information of the design, and 
 though hardly believing the report, doubled his pickets and 
 patrols, and ordered his men to sleep on their arms with 
 their ammunition beneath their coats. It was a dark and 
 rainy night, and every thing remained quiet till about eleven 
 o'clock, when the rapid firing of the pickets announced the 
 enemy close at hand. Wayne immediately ordered a retreat, 
 but, before it could be effected, the British rushed with loud 
 shouts upon him, crying, " No quarter." They swept the 
 encampment like a whirlwind, chasing Wayne into the dark- 
 ness, and strewing the ground with a hundred and fifty men. 
 As the attack was expected, its complete success caused 
 many to blame Wayne severely. But he declared that the 
 disaster was owing to the delay of Colonel Hampton to obey 
 his orders to wheel the line and move off, while he covered 
 the retreat. Another explanation, and a very probable one 
 is, that Wayne thoughtlessly encamped amid his fires, in- 
 stead of away from them, thus lighting the enemy to the 
 assault, and showing them exactly where to strike. At all 
 events it was a bad affair, and rendered still worse by the 
 preceding misfortunes. 
 
 Howe, instead of jDushing on to Philadelphia, wdieeled off 
 toward Reading, apparently to gain Washington's flank, and 
 at the same time destroy the military stores deposited in 
 the latter place. Washington immediately moved in the 
 same direction. But the whole country so swarmed with 
 Tories that he could gain no reliable information of Howe's 
 movements till next morning, when he discovered that his 
 enemy had turned back again and crossed the fords below. 
 A forced march to overtake him was now quite impossible, 
 especially with a barefoot army, and Philadelphia fell. 
 Congress, in anticipation of the catastrophe, had adjourned 
 to Lancaster, whence it removed to Yorktown. The public 
 
266 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 
 
 archives and magazines had been previously secured, and 
 the ships at the wharves carried up the Delaware. On the 
 26th of September, Lord Cornwallis, in brilliant uniform, 
 rode into the city at the head of a detachment of British 
 and Hessian grenadiers, welcomed with loud greetings by 
 the Tories, and received with congratulations by the disloyal 
 Quakers, who remained behind to receive him. 
 
 Three days after this triumphal entry the first battle of 
 Stillwater was fought. 
 
 The main part of the British army did not advance into 
 the place, but encamped at Germantown, eight miles distant. 
 Washington, chafing like a foiled lion, slowly followed after, 
 and i^itched his camj) at Skippack Creek, onlj^ fourteen 
 miles distant, where he narrowly watched every movement 
 of the enemy. In the meantime the British fleet came up 
 Delaware Bay with the intention of communicating with 
 the land forces around Philadelphia. Anticipating this 
 movement, Washington had directed fortifications to be 
 built, and obstructions sunk in the channel, the whole de- 
 fended by forty galleys and half galle3^s, five rafts, fourteen 
 fire-ships, and other vessels. The chief batteries were at 
 Mud Bank, a low island, and at Red Bank on the Jersey 
 shore, opposite. In order to assist his brother in the at- 
 tempt to break through these formidable barriers, Howt> 
 sent off* two regiments to attack a fort at Billing's Point. 
 Washington, finding the British army thus weakened, while 
 his own had been reinforced by the arrival of troops from 
 the north, and the Maryland militia, resolved to fall uj^on 
 Germantown, and, if possible, carry it by assault. 
 
 The marvelous tenacity with which Washington clung to 
 an object that he had set his heart upon, and the energy, 
 almost fierceness, with which he pressed toward it, were 
 never more strikingly exhibited than in these repeated at- 
 tacks on the British army. Chased from the Jerseys, he 
 took post .behind the Brandy wine, and though defeated by 
 
LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 267 
 
 a blunder which no foresight of his could have guarded 
 against, left nearly two thousand of the enemy on the field. 
 Giving his tattered, unshod army but one day's rest, he 
 boldly turned on his heel, and marched back to assail his 
 victorious enemy. Again disappointed and thwarted by the 
 interjDOsition of heaven, he was compelled reluctantly to re- 
 treat. Still unyielding, he turned hither and thither to meet 
 his antagonist and dispute with him for Philadelphia. De- 
 ceived and misled by the Tory inhabitants, he was compelled 
 to see the object of so much solicitude and toil fall into 
 the hands of the enemy, while the fugitive Congress and 
 crowds of men and women escaping over the country gave 
 additional keenness to the mortification and disappointment 
 under which he suffered. Notwithstanding all this, and the 
 impoverished state of his army, he now determined with 
 his undiscijDlined troops to attack the enemy in his camp, 
 and sweep him with one terrible blow into the Schuylkill. 
 The British encampment at Germantown lay along the 
 Schuylkill, passing directly through the place. The left 
 wing, between the town and river, was covered in front by 
 the mounted and dismounted chasseurs — the centre, in the 
 town, by a regiment and battalion of infantry stationed 
 three-quarters of a mile in advance, while the right, ex- 
 tending bej^ond the town into the country, was protected 
 by the Queen's American Rangers, and a battalion of light 
 infantry. This was the position of the British army on the 
 night of the 3d of October, and the watch-fires burned 
 cheerfully along the lines, and the sentinels walked their 
 weary rounds, little dreaming of the storm that was about to 
 burst upon them. "Washington's plan was a complicated one 
 for a night attack, but if successful at all would be completely 
 so, and result not merely in the defeat but utter overthrow, 
 and probable capture of the British army. He resolved to 
 divide his army into four portions, and entering the town at 
 four different points, attack the enemy in front, flank and 
 
268 LIFE OF WASHINaTON. 
 
 rear, at the same time, and thus throw them into disorder, 
 and force them back on the Schuylkill. Greene and Ste- 
 phens, with their brigades were selected to attack the British 
 right wing, while the Marjdand and Jersey militia, under 
 Smallvvood and Foreman, were to take a road nearly parallel 
 to the one along which this division moved, a little further 
 to the left, so as to fall on the wing in flank. Armstrong, 
 with the Pennsylvania militia, was to keep along the river 
 shore, attack the British left, and, forcing it back, get to the 
 rear ; while Sullivan and Wayne, flanked by Conway's bri- 
 gade, and accompanied by Washington in person, should 
 move straight on the centre. The plan of attack being 
 thus arranged, the columns took up their line of march at 
 7 o'clock in the evening, and moved rapidly forward. It 
 was a clear, autumnal night, and the dark mass went hurry- 
 ing along the highway, now passing open fields, and again 
 lost in the deep shadows of the forest, their heavy tread and 
 roll of artillery carriages being the only sounds that dis- 
 turbed the stillness of the scene The inmates of the farm- 
 houses along the road, roused from their slumbers by the 
 continuous and muflied tread of the heavy columns, gazed 
 forth with alarm as the long array swept past. German- 
 town lay fourteen miles distant, and Wasliington hoped to 
 make his attack by daylight. But as the head of the 
 division rose over Chestnut Hill, that looked down on Ger- 
 mantown, day was already broadening in the east. Here 
 the columns appointed to attack the centre broke off, and 
 began to move to their respective destinations. As Wash- 
 ington with his staff rode down the hill the sun rose over 
 the eastern horizon, lighting up into momentary beauty the 
 quiet valle}^ beneath, while the morning gun of the British 
 broke dull and heavy on the ear. In a few minutes a thick 
 fog rising from the Schuylkill shut everthing from view, 
 and almost at the same moment was heard the firing of Sul- 
 livan's advance as it came upon the enemy's picket at Mount 
 
LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 269 
 
 Airey. The sudden cry of " to arms," the shrill blast of 
 the bugle and roll of drums showed that Washington had 
 pounced upon them unawares. The pickets being re- 
 inforced, made a stand, till Sullivan, with the main body, 
 advancing, drove them back. He then left the road and 
 began to cross the fields. But being compelled to fling 
 down every fence as he advanced, which also furnished a 
 rallying point to the enemy, his progress was slow. 
 
 He, however, kept steadily on, and at length came up 
 with the left wing of the enemy, drawn up in order of bat- 
 tle, and a close and murderous conflict commenced. Wash- 
 ington all this time was moving along the main road with 
 the rear of the army. Hearing the heavy firing in advance, 
 he knew that Sullivan was warmly engaged. As it con- 
 tinued without any cessation, he became anxious, for he 
 knew that the troops had only about fifty rounds of ammuni- 
 tion, and turning to Colonel Pickering, he exclaimed, " I am 
 afraid General Sullivan is throwing away his ammunition ; 
 ride forward and tell him to preserve it." Pickering dashed 
 ofi" on a gallop, and delivered his message. " Shoulder 
 arms,'' passed along the American line — " Forward, march," 
 followed, and the whole line, with shouldered pieces, moved 
 steadily up to the enemy, who, struck with astonishment, 
 recoiled. Wayne, with his division, kept on his terrible 
 way, bearing down all opposition. The fog was so thick 
 that the opposing lines could not see each other till within 
 a few rods, and hence fired at each other's volleys, and 
 charged where the last blaze was seen. Wayne, carried 
 away by his eagerness and daring, was riding gallantly at 
 the head of his column when he was struck in the foot by 
 a ball — a second grazed his hand, a third and fourth pierced 
 his horse, and he sunk to the earth. Springing to his feet, 
 he shouted, " Forward," and sweeping the field before him, 
 carried confusion into the whole British army, so that it 
 threatened momentarily to break and fly. But Colonel 
 
270 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 
 
 Musgrave, commanding the British centre, threw himself 
 with a body of men into a large stone building, called Chew's 
 house, and having barricaded the lower storj^, opened a de- 
 structive fire of musketry from the upper windows. Here, 
 while the battle was roaring further and further away in the 
 gloom, Washington, with several of his officers, halted to 
 consult on the best course to be pursued. 
 
 Grouped together in front of an old stone building that 
 loomed dimly through the mist, they let the jDrecious mo- 
 ments pass, while they discussed the propriety of pushing 
 on without first reducing Chew's house. Knox loudly insist- 
 ed on halting the army till the house could be summoned to 
 surrender. The younger officers opposed this course as ruin- 
 ous. "It is unmilitary," exclaimed Knox, " to leave a castle 
 in our rear." " What," replied Hamilton and Reed, "call this 
 a castle, and lose the happy moment !" Hamilton and Lee 
 and Pickering earnestly, almost fiercely insisted on j^ushing 
 rapidly forward. " Leave a regiment here," said they, " to 
 take care of them, and this will be all-sufficient." Knox, 
 however, whose opinion had great weight with Washing- 
 ton, prevailed, and Lieutenant Smith, of Virginia, was sent 
 forward with a flag. The enemy paid no attention to it, 
 but continued to fire, and Smith, struck down by a musket- 
 ball, was borne, mortally wounded, to the rear. A brisk 
 cannonade was then opened on the building, but the pieces 
 being only six pounders, they could produce no effect. 
 Wayne's division, which till this moment had carried every- 
 thing before it, hearing the heavy firing in the rear, sup- 
 posed very naturally that they had been cut off by the ene- 
 my, and immediately fell back. This uncovered Sullivan s 
 left, that was pressing on nearly abreast. The British, who 
 had begun to look about for a safe retreat, no sooner saw 
 themselves relieved from the presence of Wayne's division, 
 than they wheeled on the flank of Sullivan's. About this 
 time also, the distant firing of Greene, which had been 
 
■W A a H I X U T O X AND CAPTAIN F R K S T 1 N Q U 1 li I N G F O K THE HESSIAN PICKET 
 
LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 273 
 
 very heavy and constant, suddenly ceased, for want of am- 
 munition. Being compelled to countermarch his division, 
 as he found the enemy so differently posted from what he 
 had been told, he was unable to commence his attack till 
 long after the appointed time. Armstrong had come in 
 sight of the enemy and halted, aiDparently engrossed in 
 listening to the tremendous exjDlosions that burst on every 
 side from the dense fog. Still a jDortion of Sidlivan's left 
 wing kept on through the forsaken encampments, and past 
 the deserted tents, driving the enemy for two miles before 
 them, and finally drew up within some six hundred yards 
 of a large body rapidly forming in a lane, though scarcely 
 visible from the dense fog. Colonel Matthews, from Greene's 
 division, here got entangled amid the houses, and before he 
 could escape was attacked on three sides at once, by three 
 times his number., Thus encompassed, he stood and fought 
 like a lion, charging at the head of his troops with a des- 
 peration and valor that astonished friends and foes, till 
 nearly his whole command was killed or wounded, when he 
 and a hundred men surrendered themselves prisoners. This, 
 together with the flxilure of ammunition, completed the 
 disaster — the cry arose on all sides that the enemy was sur- 
 rounding them, and the whole army recoiled in disorder to 
 Chew's house, and 2)ast it. The assailed at once became 
 the assailants, and charging on the broken ranks with loud 
 shouts, drove them back over the dead and dying. The 
 scene now became one of indescribable confusion. Officers 
 galloped around the broken squads, in the vain effort to 
 rally them, while Washington, fully aroused to the extent 
 of the danger which threatened him, spurred among the 
 fugitives, and by his personal daring, and apparently reckless 
 exposure of life, held a portion of the troops to the shock. 
 His voice sounded over the din of battle, and his form 
 glanced like a meteor through the smoke and fog that en- 
 veloped the field. Catching a glimpse of him sitting in the 
 
 15 
 
274 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 
 
 very blaze of the enemy's volleys, Sullivan, who had just seen 
 two aids fall by his side, forgetful of his own danger, rode 
 up to him and begged him not to remain in such an ex- 
 posed position, for the salvation of the army and country 
 depended on his life. Washington wheeled away for a mo- 
 ment, but Sullivan, on looking back again, saw him riding 
 as before, where the shot fell thickest. But the day was 
 irrevocably lost — defeat had come in the very hour of 
 victory, and the shout of triumph died away in the cry of 
 fear. Such a sudden reverse, so unexpected an overthrow 
 from the very height of success, was almost too much for 
 Washington's firmness, and he expressed more chagrin and 
 disappointment than at the result of any battle he ever 
 fought. Discomfited, weary, though not dispirited, the 
 army, weakened in killed, wounded and missing, by neaily 
 a thousand men, retreated for twenty miles into the coun- 
 try, and finally reached their old camp in safety. When 
 the separate divisions compared notes, all felt that they had 
 lost a battle already gained — been beaten after they had 
 conquered, and were now compelled to report a defeat in- 
 stead of a glorious victory. Several valuable officers were 
 slain, and among them General Nash. Most of the officers 
 behaved nobly — there were, however, some few exceptions, 
 and among them General Stephens, who reeled in his saddle 
 from drunkenness as he led his men into action. He was 
 consequently struck from the army, and his command given 
 to Lafayette. Cornwallis, in Philadelphia, eight miles dis- 
 tant, Avas startled at an early hour by the arrival of an offi- 
 cer, announcing the attack on the camp at German town. 
 Summoning a corps of cavalry and the grenadiers, he 
 hastened thither. But the battle was over, and the day ot 
 his humiliation postponed. 
 
 There has been a vast deal written about this battle, and 
 Ihe contradictory accounts growing out of the state of the 
 atmosphere, the utter impossibility of one division to 
 
LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 275 
 
 judo-e what another was doing, and the various causes that 
 in different locahties conspired to produce the same result 
 will always involve it in more or less uncertainty. Wash- 
 ington ascribes his failure principally to the fog ; another 
 to the failure of the ammunition ; a third to the neglect of 
 Armstrong, and the delay of the militia under Smallwood 
 and Forman on the left, which never came into action at 
 all, thus breaking up the unity and efficiency of the com- 
 bined movement. All these, doubtless, had their effect. 
 Night attacks are alwaj^s subject to many contingencies, es- 
 pecially if they are crippled by complicated movements. 
 Different points cannot be reached at the specified and de- 
 sirable moment. Unexpected obstacles will arise ; delays 
 not anticipated become unavoidable, and mistakes not only 
 as to positions, but also as to the friendly or hostile charac- 
 ter of troops concentrated in the darkness, very probable, 
 and the firing in different quarters wrongly interpreted. 
 The dense fog made this in reality a night attack, and 
 hence subject to all the casualties of one. As a primary 
 cause, therefore, not anticipated by Washington, he very 
 naturally, and might very truly, regard it the true 
 one. Had the morning been clear the result would, 
 doubtless, have been different. But it must be remem- 
 bered that the very fog which confused the Americans, 
 confused still more the enemy. The former knew perfectly 
 well what they were about, while the latter were wholly 
 ignorant of the number of their assailants, or where the 
 weight of the attack was to fall. After going over all the 
 different authorities, the great mistake, it seems to me, lay 
 in halting at Chew's house. Had the advice of Pickering, 
 Lee, Hamilton, and others been taken, and a regiment left 
 to occupy those in the building, should they attempt to 
 make a sally, all the other casualties would have effected 
 nothing in the general result. Howe's army would have 
 been destroyed, and this calamity, followed so rapidly by 
 
27G LIFE OF WASHINGTOiV. 
 
 the capture of Burgojne at Saratoga, finished the war with 
 a clap of thunder. 
 
 An unexpected heavy firing in the rear of an army, while 
 the commander-in-chief is absent, will always prove disas- 
 trous. It was clear as noonday that the inmates of Chew's 
 house, finding themselves watched by a regiment with ar- 
 tillery, would never have dared to sally forth on the rear of 
 a victorious army, and the Battle of Germantown was lost 
 by the very conduct which constitutes a martinet. Knox 
 was the ori[y general officer in the consultation held upon the 
 building, and it was natural that Washington, who had, and 
 justly, a high opinion of his military skill, should place 
 more confidence in his judgment that in that of his young 
 aids. But in battle, rules should never arrest fortune, or be 
 used to stem the current of events, when setting favorably. 
 Impulse in the heat and excitement of close conflict is often 
 wiser than the sagest experience. At all events in this case 
 it was applying a general rule where it did not belong, and 
 arresting the whole practical action of a battle by a mere 
 technicality ; and although Washington attributes the failure 
 to Providence, Providence will always be found against such 
 bad management as that halt at Chew's house most indubi- 
 tably was. Knox and Providence are by no means one 
 and the same, and had the opinion of the general been less 
 scientific and more practical, the course of Providence would 
 have taken a far different, and more satisfactory direction. 
 Not that I would intimate that Providence does not overrule 
 all our actions and bring about the best results in the end. 
 I mean simply to say what no man doubts, tliat blunders, 
 bad management, and unwise conduct. Providence generally 
 allows to work mischief to those who are guilty of them. 
 It is not a difficult matter now, when every thing is under- 
 stood, to fix the turning point of the battle, or to locate the 
 Dlame, but it is quite another thing to say how great, under 
 all the circumstances, that blame was. Finding his entire 
 
LIFE OF WASHINaTON. 277 
 
 army enshrouded in a dense fog ; knowing by the heavy 
 and constant firing that the troops were nearly out of am- 
 munition, and fearing to get entangled in a net- work of just 
 8uch houses as that of Chew's, Washington may have well 
 hesitated about advancing, unless he could make a -clean 
 sweep as he went. But so far as the regarding of this single 
 house as a fort or castle, it is palpable as noon-dav 
 that the junior officers were right, and Knox totally, fatally 
 wrong. The whole upper part of the building would 
 scarcely hold a regiment, while not a hundred men could 
 fire to advantage from it at a time. After the field in front 
 had been swept, a flag sent to it would not have been fired 
 on, and a valuable officer lost his life. Still, though cha- 
 grined, the troops were not dispirited. They had attacked 
 the veterans of England, and enjoyed the pleasure of chasing 
 them in affright from their own encampment. Neither did 
 Congress mourn over the defeat. Almost a victory was 
 rather a subject of congratulation, for it gave confidence to 
 the troops and lessened their fear of the enemy. The 
 British confessed it was the severest handling they had yet 
 received, and although Howe, as usual, made his loss but 
 trifling, it evidently amounted to about eight hundred men. 
 Mr. Sparks thinks that this battle had nearly as much to 
 do in fixing the wavering determination of France, respect- 
 ing the recognition of our independence, as the capture of 
 Burgoj'-ne, remarking that Count De Vergennes said to one 
 of our commissioners in Paris, " that nothing struck him 
 so much as General Washington attacking and giving battle 
 to General Howe's army ; that to bring an army raised 
 within a year to this, promised everything." This may 
 have had its weight in the French Councils, but such a re- 
 mark was doubtless more complimentary than serious, for 
 one cannot imagine what an army is raised for, except to 
 attack the enemy, and that, too, within less than a year. 
 
278 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 Fall of Burgoyne — Sermon of Timothy Dwight — Letter from Washington to 
 Howe — Attack on Fort Mercer, and Death of Count Donop — Gallant Defense 
 and Fall of Fort Mifflin — Fall of Fort Mercer — March of Howe against Wash- 
 ington, and Address of the latter to his Troops — ^The Conway Cabal and Fate 
 of the head Conspirators — Valley Forge — Sufferings of the Soldiers — Washing- 
 ton at Prayer — Labors of Washington, and Inefficiency of Congress — The Half- 
 Pay Establishment — Washington's Answer to the Complaint that he did not 
 make a Winter Campaign — News of the Alliance of France — Celebration of it in 
 Valley Forge — Baron Steuben and the Effects of his Discipline on the Army — 
 Howe resolves to Evacuate Philadelphia — Council of War in American Camp on 
 the best course to adopt. 
 
 Four days after tlie failure at Germantown, the second 
 battle of Saratoga was fought, and Burgoyne, now com- 
 pletely hemmed in, turned, as a last resource, to Sir Henry 
 Clinton, who was endeavoring to force his way up the Hud- 
 son to his rescue. The latter had succeeded in taking both 
 forts Montgomery and Clinton, though bravely defended by 
 Generals James, and George Clinton. His effort, however, 
 came too late. For six days Burgoyne gloomily bore up 
 against the decree which he knew was written against him. 
 But his unrelenting foes day by day gathered closer and 
 darker around him. They pitched their balls into his un- 
 covered camp, and from every height played with their 
 artillery on his dispirited columns. Through the hall of 
 council, where his officers were moodily assembled, through 
 the very apartment where he sat at dinner, cannon balls 
 would crash, while all around his camp the steadily increas- 
 ing storm gave fearful indications of his overthrow. For 
 awhile he turned and turned, like a scorpion girt with fire, 
 but his proud, ambitious heart was at last compelled to 
 yield, and that splendid army, on which he had fondly 
 hoped to build his fame and secure rank and glory, laid 
 down its arms. Forty-two brass cannon, five thousand 
 
LIFE OP WASHINGTON. 279 
 
 stand of arms, and all the camp equipage, fell into the 
 hands of the Americans, and one long, loud shout of triumph 
 and of joy rolled through the northern colonies. Gates, in- 
 flated by success, for which he had Arnold to thank, refused 
 to report his victory to Washington, but sent his dispatch 
 to Putnam, at Fishkill, with the request to deliver it to 
 Congress. Putnam, overjoyed at the news, spread it through 
 the army, and shouts, and the firing of cannon signalized 
 the glorious event. Rev. Timothy Dwight, a chaplain in 
 the army, preached a sermon at head-quarters, next day, 
 from the text, " I will remove far off from you the northern 
 army." Never was a sermon so listened to before by the 
 officers and troops. Putnam could not refrain from nodding 
 and smiling during the discourse at the happy hits with 
 which it was filled, and at the close was loud in his praises 
 of Mr. I)wight and the sermon, though, to be sure, he said 
 there was no such text in the Bible — the chaplain having 
 coined it to suit the occasion. When shown the passage, 
 he exclaimed, " Well, there is every thing in that book, and 
 Dwight knows just where to lay his finger on it." 
 
 Washington, distressed for want of men, had written 
 Gates, after the first battle, to send him Morgan's corps, if 
 the enemy was retreating. Gates declined, on the ground 
 that Burgoyne was still in front. Two days after, the deci- 
 sive battle was fought, and yet he retained the troops until 
 the terms of the capitulation were settled, and its formali- 
 ties gone through with. 
 
 About this time Washington received a letter from Howe, 
 in which the latter remonstrated warmly against the destruc- 
 tion of several mills, by the American troops, on the ground 
 that it inflicted distress on the inhabitants. Washington 
 defended his conduct as perfectly consistent with the usages 
 of war, and added, " I am happy to find that you express 
 so much sensibility to the sufferings of the inhabitants, as it 
 gives room to hope that those wanton and unnecessary de- 
 
280 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 
 
 predations which have heretofore, in many instances, marked 
 the conduct of yom- army, will be discontinued. The in- 
 stances I allude to need not be enumerated ; your own 
 memory will suggest them to your imagination, from the 
 destruction of Charlestown, in Massachusetts, down to the 
 more recent burning of mills, barns, and houses, at the head 
 of Elk and in the vicinity of the Schuylkill." No man knew 
 better how to deal these severe home thrusts than Wash- 
 ington. They were given, however, as a just punishment, 
 and did not spring from a revengeful temper, for on the 
 very day the flag bore this caustic note, another accompa- 
 nied the following civil card : " General Washington's com- 
 pliments to General Howe, and does himself the pleasure to 
 return to him a dog which accidentally fell into his hands, 
 and by the inscription on the collar appears to belong to 
 General Howe." 
 
 The two armies lying so near each other, constant skir- 
 mishes took place between detached parties, in which great 
 skill and bravery were frequently exhibited. It became 
 very difficult for Howe to collect forage, and in the partisan 
 warflire which the attempt created the British were sure to 
 be losers. 
 
 In the meantime, Howe pushed his efforts to clear the 
 Delaware below the city, so that the fleet could come up. 
 Washington, on the other hand, determined at all hazards 
 to prevent it ; for he knew that unless Howe could open his 
 communication with the ships he would be compelled to 
 evacuate Philadelphia. Forts Mercer and Mifflin, on Red 
 and Mud Banks, protected by a fleet of galleys and other 
 vessels, under the command of Com. Hazlewood, was the 
 only barrier between the British army and their ships, and 
 against these Howe immediately directed a large force. 
 Col. Christopher Green, with four hundred men from the 
 two Rhode Island regiments, garrisoned Fort Mercer, while 
 Colonel Smith, with about the same num])er of Maryland 
 

LIFE OP WASHINaTON. 283 
 
 troops, defended Fort Mifflin. Count Donop, with twelve 
 hundred Hessians, was sent against the former, and early in 
 the morning of the 2 2d of October, suddenly emerged from 
 the woods within cannon shot of the fort. The little garri- 
 son was taken by surprise, but not unjDrepared. In a few 
 minutes a Hessian officer rode wp with a flag, and ordered 
 them to lay down their arms, declaring that if they refused 
 no quarter would be given. Enraged at this insolent de- 
 mand, Colonel Green replied, '' We ask no quarter, nor will 
 we give anj/." With this murderous understanding, the two 
 armies prepared for action. Donop immediately ordered a 
 battery to be erected, within half gun shot of the fort, and 
 notwithstanding the cannonading of the Americans, com- 
 pleted it, and at four o'clock opened his fire. He j^hiyed 
 furiously on the American works for three-quarters of an 
 hour, and then gave orders to move forward to the assault. 
 In two columns, one against the north and the other against 
 the south side, they moved swiftly and steadily over the 
 intervening space. The little band within gazed sternly on 
 the overwhelming numbers, bearing down in such beautiful 
 array, resolved to die where they stood rather than surren- 
 der. The first division, finding the advanced post and out- 
 works abandoned, imagined the Americans had left them in 
 affi'ight. A loud cheer rang through the ranks, a lively 
 march was struck up, and the column moved swiftly forward 
 toward the silent redoubt itself, in which not a man could 
 be seen. The soldiers were already ascending the ramparts 
 to plant upon them the flag of victory, when suddenly every 
 embrasure vomited forth fire, while a shower of grape-shot 
 from a partially masked battery swept them away with 
 frightful rapidity. Stunned and overwhelmed, they broke 
 and fled out of the reach of the fire. The troops comprising 
 the other column approached the south side of the fort, and 
 pressing gallantly on, passed the abattis, crossed the ditch, 
 and were pouring over the j)ickets, and mounting even the 
 
284 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 
 
 parapets, when the same deadly fire smote them so terribly 
 that they recoiled and fled, leaving their commander mor- 
 tally wounded on the field. The next day he died. He 
 was only thirty-seven years of age, and just before his death 
 exclaimed, " It is finishing a noble career early, but I die 
 the victim of my ambition and the avarice of my sove- 
 reign."* The loss of the enemy was about four hundred, 
 while that of the Americans was but thirty-eight. The first 
 cannon shot aimed at Fort Mercer was the signal for the 
 British fleet to advance against Fort Mifflin. It was, how 
 ever, kept at bay by the American galleys and floating bat- 
 teries, and did not make its attack on the fort till next day, 
 when the Augusta, of sixty-four guns, the Roebuck, of 
 forty-four, two frigates, the Merlin, of eighteen guns, and a 
 galley opened a heavy fire on the fort and flotilla. The 
 Americans replied with a terrific cannonade, the echoes 
 rolling up the Delaware, filling friends and foes with the 
 deepest anxiety. But the balls of the Americans crashed 
 so incessantly through the ships that the commander at 
 length Q-ave the orders to fall down the river out of the 
 reach of the fire. A shot had set the Augusta on fire, and 
 at noon she blew up with a tremendous explosion. Soon 
 after, the Merlin was seen to be in a blaze, and she too blew 
 up, when the enemy withdrew. The officers commanding 
 both forts were highly complimented by Washington, and 
 swords were voted them and Commodore Hazlewood by 
 Congress. Though repulsed, Howe did not abandon the 
 attempt to force the passage of the river, and thirty vessels 
 arriving, not long after, from New York, bringing reinforce- 
 ments, he set on foot more extensive preparations. Province 
 Island, in rear of Mud Island, was taken possession of, and 
 batteries were erected, while a large fleet, the vessels of 
 which, drawing but little water, assembled near the forts. 
 
 * Referring to the fact that the troops were hired to England solely to obtain 
 money. 
 
LIFE OF WASHINaTON. 285^ 
 
 Washington, from his camp at Whitemarsh, saw these pre- 
 parations with the extremest anxiety. With the fall of these 
 forts would be extinguished his last hope of compelling the 
 British to evacuate Philadelphia that season. He wished to 
 dislodge the enemy on Province Island, but in the attempt 
 he would expose himself to an attack in the rear by Howe, 
 who had thrown a bridge across the Schuylkill, and could 
 easily reach him and cut off his retreat with a vastly supe- 
 rior force. Thus fettered, he saw the works go up day by 
 day, and the vessels and floating batteries slowly swing to 
 their places, and a circle of fire gathering around Fort Mif- 
 flin, from which nothing but a miracle could deliver it. In 
 the meantime, a heavy rain-storm set in, and the fatigued 
 soldiers were compelled, in relieving guard, often to wade 
 breast-deep in the water. By the 10th, [Nov.,] a floating 
 battery of twenty heavy cannons had been brought, through 
 a new channel, to within forty yards of an angle of the fort, 
 and four sixty-four, and two forty gun ships to within nine 
 hundred yards, while fourteen strong redoubts, protected by 
 heavy artillery, covered Province Island. 
 
 Against this formidable array Colonel Smith could muster 
 but three hundred men, protected by comparatively few 
 batteries. At noon, on the 10th, the cannonading com- 
 menced from all the ships and land batteries, at once, and 
 it rained shot and shells upon that little fort. But its guns, 
 trained by skillful artillerists, spoke sharp and quick amid 
 the deafening echoes, and it flamed and thundered over that 
 low island, as though a volcano were upheaving it from the 
 sea. Before night the commander of the artillery was killed 
 by the bursting of a bomb, and the pallisades began to suffer. 
 One cannon was also damaged. All night long tlic heavens 
 and the waters were illuminated by the blaze of the guns, 
 whose sullen reverberations rolled with a bodino; sound over 
 the American camp. The cannonading continued all next 
 day, slowly grinding the fort to powder. Col. Smith, struck 
 
286 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 
 
 senseless by a brick which a cannon ball hurled against him 
 in its passage through a chimney, was, with Capt. George, 
 also wounded, carried over to Red Bank. The enemy played 
 night and day, without cessation, on the works, to prevent 
 the garrison from repairing damages, and on the 1 2th dis- 
 mounted two eighteen-j^ounders. The next day the ruin 
 of the block-house was complete. Lieutenant Russel suc- 
 ceeded Colonel Smith in command, but overcome with 
 fatigue, withdrew, and Major Thayer volunteered to take 
 his place. A more gallant officer was never inclosed by the 
 walls of a fort. Against the hopeless odds that pressed 
 him so sorely, with his cannon dismounted one after another, 
 .all his outworks demolished, and his garrison thinned off, he 
 bore up to the last, refusing to yield while a gun could carry 
 shot. The scene around that low fort at night was iude 
 scribably grand and fearful. Girdled with fire, and the 
 target for so many cannon, canopied with shells bursting 
 over and within, it still spoke forth its stern defiance, and 
 answered thunder with thunder. On the 13th, the heavy 
 floating battery of twenty cannon, anchored within pistol 
 shot of the fort, opened with frightful effect, but before noon 
 it was knocked to pieces and silenced by the well-directed 
 fire of Thayer's artillery. Thus day after day wore on, 
 while the garrison, though sick and exhausted, stood bravely 
 to their guns. All this time Major Fleury sent daily dis- 
 patches to Washington. A mere line or two detailed the 
 progress of the enemy. Compelled to sit listless while this 
 brave defense was going on, his indignation was aroused 
 against Gates and Putnam, for their refusal to send the re- 
 inforcements he had demanded, and which might have pre- 
 vented the terrible calamities that nothing now seemed able 
 to avert. At length a deserter to the British informed the 
 commanders, to their astonishment, of the breaking up ot 
 the garrison. The attack was about to be abandoned, but 
 encouraged hy the report of this deserter, they, at dajdight 
 
LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 287 
 
 on the 15th, brought up two frigates to cannonade the fort 
 in front, while the Vigilant, cut down so as to draw little 
 water, was carried so close to the works that her guns over- 
 looked those within. At ten o'clock a signal bugle rung 
 out over the water, and the next moment a terrific cannon- 
 ade opened. The effect was appalling. The already half- 
 destroyed batteries were soon completely demolished, the 
 ditches filled with ruins, while the top-men in the rigging 
 of the Vigilant picked off the artillerists on the platforms, 
 and cast hand grenades into their midst. With only two 
 mounted guns, whose echoes could scarcely be heard in the 
 surrounding uproar, Tha^^er still kept up a brave defense. 
 In a short time these shared the fate of the others, and before 
 night every embrasure was in ruins, the paraj)ets all knocked 
 away, the artillery company almost to a man killed or dis- 
 abled, and the whole fort presenting only a painful wreclv. 
 As darkness approached, Thayer sent over to Hed Bank all 
 the garrison but forty men. With these he remained till 
 midnight, when, seeing that every defense was swept awaj^, 
 and the enemy making j^reparations for storming the place 
 in the morning, he set fire to the ruins, and by the light ot 
 the flames crossed over to Red Bank. Scarcely fifty un- 
 wounded men were left of the whole garrison. It was one 
 of the most obstinate battles that had yet been fought, and 
 stood side by side with Arnold's naval action on Lake 
 Champlain, and covered the heroes of it with honor. 
 
 Fort Mercer, at Bed Bank, was still in possession of the 
 Americans, and Washington strained every nerve to save 
 it. But Green, the commander, and Morgan, whom he sent 
 to his relief, were too weak to oppose Cornwallis, rapidly 
 approaching it with a heavy force. Colonel Green, despair- 
 ing of succor, at length abandoned it, leaving all the artil- 
 lery and stores in possession of the enemy. The American 
 fleet, no longer protected by the forts, was now inevitably 
 lost. Taking advantage of a dark night, some of the galleys, 
 
288 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 
 
 and two or three small vessels crept past the batteries at 
 Philadelphia, and escaped up the river. The remaining 
 portion, seventeen ships in all, were completely hemmed in 
 by the enemy. The crews, seeing that escape was impos- 
 sible, set them on fire o,t Gloucester and fled. In their 
 blazing timbers was consumed the last hope of rescuing Phi- 
 ladelphia from the British. The Delaware was now swept 
 clear of every battery and vessel, and the enemy could sit 
 down in safety in their snug winter quarters. The reinforce- 
 ments, so culpably withheld, at length arrived, but too late 
 to render aid, and only in time to increase the suffering and 
 starvation of the army. 
 
 Howe, elated by his success, and strengthened by re- 
 inforcements, resolved to advance against Washington, and 
 marched his army within two or three miles of the Ameri- 
 can camp. The latter, not doubting that a great and deci- 
 sive battle was at hand, reviewed his troops with care, told 
 them that the enemy was about to attack them, and ex- 
 pressed his confidence that victory would remain with the 
 Americans. He praised the patience and valor of those who 
 had combated with him at Brandy wine and Germantown, 
 and rousing their ambition and pride, told them that now 
 was the time to show the conquerors from Saratoga, who 
 were to stand by their sides in the approaching conflict, that 
 they were their equals in heroism and love of country. He 
 addressed the northern troops in language of praise, saying 
 that they were about to have another opportunity to add 
 fresh laurels to those which they had so gloriously gained. 
 He spoke of their common country, and by his impassioned 
 manner, earnest appeals, a,nd noble self-devotion, kindled 
 every heart with enthusiasm and love, till even the half- 
 clad, half- famished, and worn-out soldier panted equally 
 with the strongest and freshest for the conflict. But Howe, 
 after manoeuvering for three days in front of the American 
 lines, concluded not to venture an attack. Having lost more 
 
LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 28S 
 
 than a hundred men in the skirmishes* of the detached par- 
 ties with Morgan's riflemen, he at length retired to Phila- 
 delphia, while Washington, weighed down with care and 
 disappointment, led his suffering, starving army through the 
 snow to the gloomy encampment of Valley Forge, there to 
 make up the most sad and touching chapter in our history. 
 
 It seemed at this time as if Heaven was determined to 
 try the American commander, in the sevenfold heated fur- 
 nace of affliction, for while struggling against the mortifi- 
 tion and disappointment of his continued failures, and against 
 the gloomy prospect before him, and actual suffering of his 
 destitute army, and compelled to bear the reproaches of men 
 in high places for his want of success, he saw a conspiracy 
 forming to disgrace him from his command as unequal to its 
 duties. What Washin<2;ton suffered during this autumn and 
 winter no one will ever know. It was all black around him 
 and before him, while, to crown his accumulated afflictions, 
 his own officers, with members of Congress, were plotting 
 his overthrow. Yet his serenity did not forsake him. Con- 
 scious of his own integrity, caring only for his country, the 
 injurious comparisons draw^n between him and Gates, the 
 falling off of his friends, the disloyalty of the inhabitants, 
 and the dreadful trials he knew to be in store for him, could 
 not move him to jealousy, or awaken an angry expression, 
 or force him to despair. All the shafts which misfortune 
 hurled at him fell powerless at his feet. Still he felt for his 
 country. Here was his vulnerable point. Her danger and 
 sufferings aroused all the terrible and the tender in his 
 nature. 
 
 Much has been said of the Conway cabal, and various 
 accounts of its origin and progress given. The whole affair, 
 however, admits of an easy and natural explanation. A man 
 rising, like Washington, to power in troublous times, will 
 
 * Major Morris, fresh from Saratoga, was killed in one of these skirmishes. 
 
290 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 
 
 always make rivals and enemies. There will be one class 
 of officers who, having a high opinion of their own merit, 
 will resent any refusal to their claims, and become secretly 
 embittered. Such were Gates and Mifflin, who never for- 
 gave Washington for not granting their requests at Boston, 
 the former to have command of a briiz;ade to which he con- 
 sidered himself entitled, and the latter that of a regiment. 
 There are others, mere ambitious adventurers, who, if foiled 
 in their efforts in one quarter, will endeavor to succeed in 
 another, and placing their personal aggrandizement before 
 every thing else, are ripe for conspiracies, revolutions, or 
 any thing that promises to advance their own interests. 
 Such was Conway. There is still a third class who measure 
 excellence by success, and whose feelings grow cold toward 
 a defeated commander. Such were some in the army, and 
 some in Congress, and many in the higher walks of social 
 life. Then each of these has personal friends more or less 
 impressible. Added to all these, there were, in the case of 
 Washington, men of influence who, while they had the 
 reputation of being patriots, secretly inclined to the loy- 
 alists, and would gladly seize the first opportunity to over- 
 throw the only man that stood in the way of the submission 
 of the colonies. All these classes and characters remain 
 quiet so long as they see that the man they assail is too 
 strong in popular affection or in power to be attacked with 
 safety. But the moment his own misfortunes, or the suc- 
 cesses of others, weaken that popularity, and sap that 
 strength, they combine against him, and what was before 
 mere private complaints and abuse, becomes organized 
 action. By this natural process the Conway cabal, doubt- 
 less, was formed. Conway was an unscrupulous, dangerous 
 man, and had joined the army as a mere adventui-er. 
 Although an Englishman by birth, he had lived in France 
 since he was six years of age, and seen nmch service in the 
 French army. He came to this country with high recom- 
 
WASHINGTON MIDWAY BETWKEN THE TWO ARMIES AT PRINCETON. 
 
LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 293 
 
 mendations, and was appointed by Congress brigadier- 
 general. Arrogant, boastful, and selfish, lie was especially 
 repugnant to Washington, who, with his deejD insight, pene- 
 trated the hollow character of the man at once, and would 
 never trust him. He, therefore, stood in Conway's way, 
 and the latter would naturally seize the first opportunity to 
 help remove him. The constant defeats in Pennsylvania, 
 during the summer of 1777, gave great weight to his 
 opinion against Washington's militarj^ capacity, and it was 
 not difficult to win over many members of a Congress so 
 contemptible as the one which then ruled our affairs. Still 
 there was a great difficulty in taking the initiatory steps. 
 If Washington could be displaced, there was no leader suffi- 
 ciently popular to secure the confidence and coojoeration of 
 the peoj)le and the army. If successful, therefore, in its 
 first attempt, the plot would afterward Ml to the ground 
 through its own weakness. But the great and decided vic- 
 tory of Gates over Burgoyne, linking his name with plaudits 
 and honors all over the land, contrasting as it did with 
 Washington's successive defeats and helj^less condition, gave 
 to the former the very prominence, the want of which had 
 hitherto brought every thing to a dead lock. From this 
 moment the malcontents grew bold, and the consj^iracy 
 strengthened with wonderful rajDidity. Gates, an essen- 
 tially weak, vain man, was just the tool to be used in this 
 nefixrious scheme. He entertained no more doubt of his. 
 superiority to Washington as a military man, than his friends 
 appeared to, and would have had no hesitation in accepting 
 the chief command. The first thing to be secured was the 
 cooperation of a sufficient number of the superior officers. 
 Congress was already corrupted to an extent that promised 
 success, and the army alone was wanting to take a decided 
 step at once. The officers were cautiously sounded, but 
 here the conspirators made j^oor progress. The remark 
 
 which Wilkinson droj)ped to Stirling, and which exploded 
 
 16 
 
294 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 
 
 the whole scheme, was evidently thrown out as a feeler. 
 As if in casual conversation, he remarked that Conway had 
 written to Gates, saying — " Heaven has been determined to 
 save your country, or a weak general and bad counsellors 
 would have ruined it." This brought on a correspondence 
 between different parties, and developed, at once, the feel- 
 ings of both the army and the people. 
 
 Patrick Henry, Governor of Virginia, received an anony- 
 mous letter, which Washington ascribed to Dr. Rush, in 
 which, after some flattery, the latter says — " A dreary wil- 
 derness is still before us, and unless a Moses or a Joshua 
 are raised up in our behalf, we must perish before we reach 
 the promised land;" and again, " The spirit of the southern 
 army is no way inferior to the northern. A Gates, a Lee, 
 or a Conway, would, in a few weeks, render them an irre- 
 sistible body of men." This letter Patrick Henry inclosed 
 to Washington, accompanying it with his severe condemna- 
 tion. Said he, " 1 am sorry there should be one man who 
 counts himself my friend, who is not yours." Another 
 anonymous paper was sent to Laurens, President of Con- 
 gress, filled with accusations against Washington and his 
 course. This, Laurens refused to lay before Congress, and 
 sent it to Washington, with his condemnation of the writer. 
 The latter replied, saying he hoped that the paper would 
 be submitted to Congress, that the charges it contained 
 might be investigated, and added, '' My enemies take un- 
 generous advantage of me. They know the delicacy of my 
 situation, and that motives of policy deprive me of the 
 defense that I might otherwise make against their insidious 
 attacks. They know I cannot combat their insinuations, 
 however injurious, without disclosing secrets which it is of 
 the utmost moment to conceal. My heart tells me that it 
 has been my unremitted aim to do the best that circum- 
 stnnces would permit, yet I may have been very often mis- 
 taken in my judgment of the means, and may in many 
 
LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 295 
 
 instances deserve the imputation of error." Patrick Henry, 
 hearing of the part General Mifflin was taking in the con- 
 spiracy, wrote again to Washington, to comfort and 
 strengthen him. Said he, " While you face the armed ene- 
 mies of our country in the field, and, by the favor of God, 
 have been kept unhurt, I trust your country will never 
 harbor in her bosom the miscreant who would ruin her 
 best supporter." Letters from others came pouring in, 
 showing what a stern rally his friends would make when 
 action became necessary. Conway endeavored to make 
 friends with Lafayette by flattery and falsehood, but the 
 young patriot penetrated at once, and denounced the vil- 
 lainous faction which sought to make him its tool. He 
 wrote to Washington a long letter, stating that the con- 
 spiracy had involved many in the army, but closed by say- 
 ing, " I am hound to your fate, and I shall follow it, and sustain 
 it as well hy my sword as by all the means in my power. You 
 will pardon my im2)ortunity. Youth and friendship make 
 me too warm, bat T feel the greatest concern at recent 
 events." Washington replied to this free and full offer of 
 his sword and his efforts, in terms of warm affection. He 
 had, from the outset, taken him like a son to his bosom, 
 and loved him with parental affection to the last. Not- 
 withstanding these ominous exhibitions of popular feeling, 
 and directly in the teeth of Washington's most earnest, 
 solemn, and even prophetic remonstrances, Congress raised 
 Conway to the rank of major-general, and made him 
 inspector- general of the army. It also created a Board of 
 War, invested with large powers, and placed Conway, Mif- 
 flin and Gates at the head of it. This board immediately 
 planned an expedition to Canada, the command of which 
 was offered, as a bribe, to Lafayette. The latter carried the 
 offer directly to Washington, telling him he should decline. 
 Washington advised him not to do so, as the appointment 
 was an honorable one, and would advance his rejDutation 
 
296 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 
 
 He, tnerefore, accepted, and went to Yorktown to meet the 
 Board of War. On his arrival, he found General Gates at 
 dinner, surrounded by his friends, all of whom received him 
 with the warmest expression of friendship. He sat down 
 to the table, and the wine passed rapidly around as com- 
 2)limentary toasts were given in turn by the guests. Just 
 as the company was about to break up, Lafayette remarked 
 that, with their permission, ho. would propose a toast. The 
 glasses were filled, when, looking steadily at those around him, 
 he said, " The Commander-in-chief of the American Armies.^' 
 They, by a great effort, succeeded in swallowing the toast, 
 but Lafayette never went to Canada. The strength of the 
 conspiracy lay in Congress, where it had reached to an 
 alarming extent. But of the plots then hatched, and the 
 men who then showed themselves to be enemies of Wash- 
 ington, we yet remain in ignorance, and perhaps ever shall. 
 The record of their deeds is destroyed. In a letter to me, 
 a gentleman thoroughly informed on matters of American 
 history, says — " It has been said over and over again, and 
 by those best able to speak, that the history of our Revolu- 
 tion could not be written for many years to come — some 
 say never — and, as to some parts of it, I subscribe to the 
 latter. The diary of Charles Thompson, Secretary to Con- 
 gress, was destroyed. It was more than full, and something 
 of its character was known. Colonel North, too, kept a 
 full diary, of such a character that not even his own son 
 was permitted to see certain parts of it. It too was de- 
 stroyed. When success crowned the patriotic struggle, 
 those who had faltered and wavered, gladly destroyed the 
 evidence of their weakness, while the generosity which filled 
 the brave men who never despaired, led them to cover the 
 shortcomings of their weaker brethren." There is food for 
 much thought in the above paragraph. If Dr. Bush's 
 papers could be obtained for publication, they would, doubt- 
 less, fling some light on this transaction. But all efforts to 
 
LIFE OF WASHIXaTON, 297 
 
 get them have thus far proved abortive. After agitating 
 the army and the country for awhile, the conspiracy at 
 length fell through. Conwav, one of the leaders, was after- 
 ward shot in a duel, and, supposing himself to be dying, 
 wrote to Washington, " I find myself just able to hold the pen 
 during a few minutes, and take this opportunity^ of express- 
 ing my sincere grief for having done, written, or said any 
 thing disagreeable to your excellency. My career will soon 
 be over ; therefore, justice and truth prompt me to declare 
 my last sentiments. You are, in my eyes, the great and 
 good man. May you long enjoy the love, veneration and 
 esteem of those States whose liberties you have asserted by 
 your virtues." Gates, the chief leader, shorn of all his 
 stolen plumes by his disastrous defeat at Camden — recalled 
 in disgrace by the very Congress which had lauded him — 
 mortified, humbled and depressed, was compelled at last to 
 receive the condolence and sympathy of the man whose 
 overthrow he had plotted- Mifflin, the other leading officer, 
 did not receive the punishment he deserved, but, on the con- 
 trary, was rewarded with honor by his State. Washington 
 had remained unmoved amid it all. Calm in the conscious- 
 ness of his integrity, indifferent to the power and place he 
 occupied, only as he could use them to serve his country, 
 upheld by that serene trust in Heaven which he believed 
 had ordained the triumph of liberty, he moved steadily for- 
 ward in the path of duty and of trial. Like the mountain 
 summit, around which the mists of morning gather, only 
 to dissolve before the uprisen sun, so he, under the light of 
 truth, emerged from the partial obscuration with undimmed 
 splendor, and with a cloudless heaven bending above him. 
 But the deed deserved a deep reprobation from its cruelty, 
 and from the peril in which it brought the country. To add 
 to the suffering which Washington already endured, and 
 weave a plot designed to effect his ruin around the gloomy 
 
298 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 
 
 encampment at Valley Forge, revealed hearts hard as iron 
 to all generous and honorable appeals. 
 
 I have not mentioned as a part of the Conway conspiracy, 
 as it is called, the publication of some forged private letters, 
 said to have been found in Washington's valise when he fled 
 over the Hudson into Jersey, and which contained opinions 
 adverse to the independence of the colonies. Writers have 
 dwelt with more or less severity on this matter. But the 
 attempt was so absurd that I cannot conceive that it could 
 have formed a part of the scheme itself. It must have been 
 the private enterprise of some very weak-headed or ignorant 
 man. That an anonymous publication could weigh a feather 
 against Washington's public acts and sacrifices, was an ex- 
 pectation too jDreposterous to be entertained by any sensible 
 persons. Washington, at the time, did not even take the 
 trouble to deny it. 
 
 Valley Forge ! What thoughts and emotions are awakened 
 at the mention of that name. Sympathy and admiration, 
 pity and love, tears and smiles chase each other in rapid 
 succession, as one in imagination goes over the history of 
 that wintry encampment. Never before w^as there such an 
 exhibition of the triumph of patriotism over neglect and 
 want ; of princijDle over physical sufferings ; of virtue over 
 the pangs of starvation. Those tattered, half-clad, and 
 bare-foot soldiers, wan with want, taking up their slow 
 march for the wintry forest, leaving their bloody testimo- 
 nials on every foot of the frozen ground they traversed, 
 furnish one of the sublimest scenes in history. A cloud, 
 black as sackcloth, seems to hang over their fortunes, but 
 through it shoots rays of dazzling brightness. A murmur, 
 like the first cadences of a death-song, heralds their march, 
 but there is an undertone of strange meaning and sublime 
 power, for no outward darkness can quench the light of a 
 great soul, no moans of suffering drown the language of 
 a lofty purpose. 
 
LIFE OF WASHINGTON. ^ 299 
 
 The encampment at Valley Forge was chosen after much 
 deliberation, and frequent consultations among the officers. 
 Various propositions were made, but to each and all there 
 were many and grave objections. Of course, the first and 
 natural wish was to keep the army in the field ; but with 
 such naked troojDS this would be impossible, and every feel- 
 ing of humanity in Washington revolted from making the 
 attempt. But how and where to quarter them seemed 
 equally difficult. It was proposed to retire to the towns in 
 the interior of the state ; but to this there was the two-fold 
 objection — that of inflicting the same destitution and suffer- 
 ing on the inhabitants, and of leaving a large extent of 
 country unprotected, with forage and stores in possession 
 of the enemy. To distribute the troops in different sections 
 would render them liable to be cut off" in detail. Washing- 
 ton, therefore, determined to take to the woods, near his 
 enemy, and there hut, so that he could both protect the 
 country and his stores, and also be in striking distance in 
 case of need. 
 
 The army commenced its march on the 11th of Decem- 
 ber, but did not reach the place selected for the encampment 
 till the 19th. In his order of the day, dated December 17th, 
 Washington informed the troops of his decision, and the 
 reasons which urged him to it. He also praised their good 
 conduct during the tedious campaign now closed, declared 
 that it furnished evidence that their cause would finally 
 triumph, even if the colonies were left alone in the struggle, 
 but added that there was every reason to believe that France 
 would soon ally herself openly against England. He pro- 
 mised to share in the hardships, and jaartake of every incon- 
 venience. The next day had been appointed by Congress 
 as a day of thanksgiving and praise. The army, therefore, 
 remained quiet in their quarters, and divine service was held 
 in the " several corps and brigades," by the chaplains, and 
 hymns of praise and the voice of prayer arose there on the 
 
300 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 
 
 confines of the bleak forest, from men who, to all human 
 appearance, had little to be thankful for, except nakedness, 
 famine, and frost. The next day the work of hutting com- 
 menced. Each regiment was divided into parties of twelve, 
 each party to make its own hut, which was to be of logs, 
 fourteen by sixteen feet on the ground, and six feet and a 
 half high. The sides were to be made tight with clay, and 
 the roof with split slabs, or such material as could be ob- 
 tained. To stimulate the parties to greater exertion, Wash- 
 ington offered a reward of one dollar to each man of that party 
 which finished its hut in the shortest time and most work- 
 manlike manner. Fearing that there would not be slabs or 
 boards sufficient for roofing, he offered a reward, also, of a 
 hundred dollars to any one who should " substitute some 
 other covering," that might be more cheaj)ly and quickly 
 made. In a short time the arms were all stacked, and with 
 their axes and other tools in their hands, this army of eleven 
 thousand men, with the excejDtion of about three thousand 
 who were unfit for duty, was scattered through the woods 
 The scene they presented was strange and i^icturesque. 
 There was not a murmur or complaint, and with laugh, and 
 song, and loud hallo, they went about their allotted toil. 
 The forest soon rung with the strokes of the axe, and the 
 rapid and incessant crash of falling trees resounded along 
 the shores of the Schuylkill. Little clearings were rapidly 
 made, the foundations of huts laid, and a vast settlement 
 began to spring up along the valley and slopes of the hills. 
 But here and there were scattered groups of fifties and hun- 
 dreds, sitting around huge fires, some of them with scarcely 
 a rag to cover their nakedness, crouching closely to the 
 crackling logs to escape the piercing December blast ; others 
 sick and emaciated, gazing listlessly on the flames, their 
 sunken and sallow visages clearly foretelling what would 
 be their fate before the winter now setting in was over. In 
 another direction were seen men harnessed together like 
 
iiiSSiiii 
 
 L n ^Tave d"IjyAIj IValtje:- 
 
 'RtVIOUS TO HIS OF.PARTI.S'T - IH AMERICA 
 
LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 303 
 
 beasts of burden, and drawing logs to the place of destina- 
 tion. Washington's tent was j)itched on the brow of a 
 hill overlooking this strange spectacle. One after another 
 the rude structures went up, till a log city, containing be- 
 tween one and two thousand dwellings, stood in the clear- 
 ings that had been made. Over the ground floor straw was 
 scattered, and into these the " Sons of Liberty," as Colonel 
 Barre had christened them, in the English Parliament, crept 
 to starve and to die. The officer's huts were ranged in lines 
 in the rear of those of the soldiers, one being allowed to 
 each of all those who bore commissions, the whole being 
 surrounded with intrenchments. But scarcely had the troops 
 got into these comfortless houses, when there began to be a 
 want of food in camp. Congress, with that infallible cer- 
 tainty of doing the wrong thing, had recently, against 
 Washington's advice, made a change in the quarter-master's 
 and commissary's department, by which, in this critical 
 juncture, the army was left without provisions. In the mean- 
 time, news came that a large party of the enemy w\as ad- 
 vancing in the country to forage. Washington immediately 
 ordered the troops to be in readiness to march, when, to his 
 surprise, he found that they were wholly unable to stir, for 
 want of food, and that a dangerous mutiny had broken out. 
 The soldiers were willing to suffer or die, if necessary, but 
 they would not submit to the neglect and indifference of 
 Congress, which they knew could easily relieve their wants. 
 The statements made by the different officers were of the 
 most alarming kind. General Huntingdon wrote a note to 
 Washington, saying that his brigade was out of provisions, 
 but he held it in readiness to march, as '' fighting luas far 
 preferable to starving." General Varnum wrote, also, saying 
 that his division had been two days without meat, and three 
 days without bread, and that the men must be suj^plied, or 
 they could not be commanded ; still they were ready to 
 march, as any change was better than slow starvation. On 
 
304 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 
 
 inquiry there was found only one purchasing commissary in 
 camp, and he made the frightful report of not a " single 
 Jioof of any kind to slaughter, and not more than twenty-five 
 barrels of flour" to the whole army. Only small detach- 
 ments, therefore, could be sent out. These hovered about 
 the enemy, now bursting on a small party from some forest, 
 and again surrounding the dwelling where they were repos- 
 ing. The weather came on intensely cold, and the soldiers 
 could hardly handle their muskets Avith their stiffened 
 fingers. They rarely entered a house, and dared not kindle 
 a fire at night, lest it should reveal their position to the 
 enemy. 
 
 Thus, for a week, they kept marching and skirmishing, 
 till the enemy withdrew to Philadelphia, when they returned 
 to camp, having collected but little forage. Here suffering 
 and want were fast bringing things to a crisis. The soldiers 
 were at first satisfied with the excuse given for the delay of 
 provisions, viz : that the rains had made the roads almost 
 impassable. But day after day passing without relief, they 
 began to complain, and soon their murmurs swelled to loud 
 clamors and threats. First the different regiments began 
 to assemble, and the excitement increasing, whole brigades 
 and divisions gathered together without order, and against 
 the commands of their officers. The latter did not attempt 
 to enforce obedience, but spoke kindly to them, saying that 
 Washington was aware of their suffering condition, that it 
 grie\'ed him to the heart, and he was straining every nerve 
 to obtain relief. Washington himself exhorted them to be 
 obedient, saying that provisions would soon be in camp, and 
 insubordination could result only in evil. The soldiers, in 
 return, were calm and respectful. They told him they 
 knew that their conduct was mutinous, but their condition 
 justified it. They were actually starving, and relief must 
 be had. They then res^^ectfully communicated to him their 
 fixed determination, which Avas to march in an orderly man- 
 
LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 305 
 
 ner into th.'e country, -seize provisions wherever they could 
 lay hands on them, giving in return certificates as to the 
 amount and value of the articles taken, and then return to 
 camp, and to their duty. Never before was there a mutiny 
 so devoid of crime, and which, in fact, partook of the moral 
 sublime. Their language was, " We are starving here, and 
 shall soon be of no service to you or our country. We love 
 you, and the cause in which we are embarked. We will 
 stand by you at all hazards, and defend with our last droji 
 of blood our common country, but food we must and will 
 have." Washington was overcome by the condition and 
 conduct of these men. So self-sustained in their sufferings — 
 so constant to him in their destitution — so firm for their 
 country, though abandoned by Congress, their language and 
 attitude moved him deeply. There was something inex- 
 pressibly touching in the noble regret they manifested for 
 appearing to be disobedient, and the high, manlj^ grounds in 
 which they defended their conduct. Washington, in reply, 
 told them that he was well aware of the sufferings of his 
 faithful soldiers. He had long admired their j^citience and 
 resignation, and devotion to their country, under the most 
 trying circumstances, and if the provisions did not arrive by 
 a specified hour, he would place himself at their head, and 
 march into the country till they were found. To *this they 
 consented, but the promised supplies arriving before the 
 time fixed had expired, quietness and subordination were 
 restored, and a movement, the results of which could not 
 be foreseen, prevented. 
 
 This supply, however, was soon exhausted, and then the 
 same scenes of suffering were repeated. Nearly all the 
 inhabitants in the vicinity of Yalley Forge were Tories, and 
 hence withheld the food they could have furnished. Find- 
 ing that neither offers of pay nor threats could wring it from 
 them, Washington, acting under a resolution of Congress, 
 issued a proclamation in which he ordered all the flirmers 
 
306 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 
 
 withiji seventy miles of Valley Forge, to thresh out half 
 their grain by the first of February, and the other half by 
 the first of March, under penalty of having the whole 
 seized as straw. The Tories refused to comply, and many 
 of them defended their barns and stacks with fire-arms. 
 Some, unable to do this, set fire to their grain, to pre\nent 
 its falling into the hands of the Americans. The soldiers 
 turned themselves into pack-horses, yoked themselves to 
 wagons, and shrunk from no labor required to bring in pro- 
 visions. But all the efforts and ingenuity of Washington 
 could not prevent the gaunt figure of famine from stalking 
 through his camp. Horses died for want of forage, and the 
 men became so reduced that scarcely enough could be found 
 fit " to discharge the military camj) duties from day to 
 day;" and even these few were compelled to borrow clothes 
 to cover their nakedness while performing them. 
 
 A Aveek passed without a pound of flesh being brought 
 into camp, and at last the bread gave out, and for several 
 days the starving soldiers had not a morsel to eat. Heavy 
 snow-storms, followed by excessive frosts, swelled the suf- 
 ferings that before seemed unbearable. So few blankets 
 had been supplied that the benumbed soldiers were com- 
 pelled to sleep sitting around their fires, to prevent freezing. 
 Many were so naked that they could not show themselves 
 outside of their huts, but hid shivering away in the scanty 
 straw. Others would flit from hut to hut, with only a loose 
 blanket to cover their otherwise naked forms. These huts, 
 half closed up with snow, and the men wading around in 
 their rags to beat paths, presented a singular siocctacle of a 
 bright wintry morning. In the midst of this accumulation 
 of woes, the small-pox broke out, and Washington was com- 
 pelled to resort to inoculation to prevent the severer ravages 
 of the disease. The sick, in consequence, were everj^where, 
 and without blankets or provisions and hospital stores, and 
 stretched on the earth wet and frosty, l>y turns, presented 
 
LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 807 
 
 a scene of woe and wretchedness that beggars description. 
 Starvation and despair will in the end demoralize the noblest 
 army that ever defended a holy cause, and they at length 
 began to tell on this band of patriots. A foreign officer, in 
 walking through the encampment one day with Washington, 
 heard through the crevices of the huts as he passed, half- 
 naked men muttering, " no pay, no clothes, no rum.'' Then 
 he said he despaired of American Liberty. Had Howe been 
 made aware of this deplorable state of the army, he could 
 have with a single blow crushed it to atoms. Amid this 
 woe and suffering, Washington moved with a calm mien but 
 a breaking heart. The piteous looks and haggard appear- 
 ance of his poor soldiers — the consciousness that his army 
 was jDowerless to resent any attack of the enemy, nay, on 
 the jDoint of dissolution, never probably to be reunited, all 
 combined to press him so heavily with care, that even he 
 must have sunk under it had he not put his trust in a higher 
 power than man. One day a Quaker, by the name of Potts, 
 was strolling up a creek, when he heard, in a secluded spot, 
 the solemn voice of some one apparently engaged in jDrayer. 
 Stealing quietly forward, he saw Washington's horse tied to 
 a sapling, and a little farther on, in a thicket, the chief 
 himself, on his knees, and with tears streaming down his 
 cheeks, beseeching Heaven for his country and his army. 
 Before God alone, that strong heart gave way, and poured 
 forth the full tide of its griefs and anxieties. Though the 
 heavens grew dark around him, and disaster after disaster 
 wrecked his brightest hopes, and despair settled down on 
 officers and men, he showed the same unalterable presence — 
 moved the same tower of strength. But to his God he could 
 safely go with his troubles, and on that arm securely lean. 
 How sublime does he appear, and how good and holy the 
 cause he was engaged in seems, as he thus carries it to the 
 throne of a just God, feeling . that it has his sanction and 
 can claim his protection. 
 
303 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 
 
 The poor man who had witnessed this sj)ectacle hurried 
 home, and on oi^ening the door of his house burst into tears. 
 His wife, amazed, inquired what was the matter with him. 
 He told her what he had seen, and added, " If there is any- 
 one on this earth whom the Lord will listen to, it is George 
 Washington, and I feel a presentiment that under such a 
 commander, there can be no doubt of our eventually estab- 
 lishing our independence, and that God in his providence 
 has willed it so." 
 
 No wonder peace sat enthroned on that brow when despair 
 clouded all others. 
 
 In February his wife joined him, and as the two walked 
 through the wretched camp, even the half-starved and muti- 
 nous soldier raised his head to bless them, and from many a 
 pallid lip fell the " long live Washington," as his tall form 
 darkened the door of the hovel. She was worthy of him, 
 and cheerfulty shared his discomforts and anxieties. Hav- 
 ing at length got a little addition, built of logs, attached to 
 their quarters, as a dining-room, she writes that their strait- 
 ened quarters were much more tolerable. 
 
 But the sick, powerless, and famished army that lay 
 around him did not wholly occupy Washington's attention. 
 He wrote to the various officers to the east and north, took 
 measures to have West Point fortified, and pressed on Con- 
 gress the necessity of a complete change in the organization 
 and discipline of the army, and the mode of obtaining sup- 
 plies. This body at length yielded to his solicitations, and 
 a committee of five was appointed to wait on him at Valley 
 Forge, to decide on some feasible plan. Washington laid 
 before them a project, which, after receiving the various 
 opinions of the officers, he had, with great labor and care, 
 drawn up. The committee remained three months in camp, 
 and then returned to Congress with a report, which, with a 
 very few amendments was adopted. On one point he and 
 Congress differed Avidcly. Hitherto, the officers received 
 
LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 309 
 
 pay only while in the service, and no provision was made 
 for them in the futnre. Washington wished to have the 
 half-pay system for life adopted, and finding Congress averse 
 to it, he wrote a strong and urgent request, m which he 
 declared that he " most religiously believed the salvation of 
 the cause depended upon it, and without it, the officers would 
 moulder to nothing, or be composed of low and illiterate 
 men, void of capacity, and unfit for their business." He said 
 he had no interest in the decision, personally, as he had 
 fully resolved never to receive the smallest benefit from the 
 half-pay establishment ; but he added, " As a man who fights 
 under the weight of proscription, and as a citizen who luishes to 
 see the liberty of his country established on a permanent basis, 
 and whose property depends on the success of our arms, I am- 
 deeply interested." Still Congress hesitated, doubtful whether 
 this matter did not belong to the separate States. Some 
 saw in it the basis of a standing army ; others the elements 
 of a privileged class ; indeed, saw every thing but the simple 
 truth, that officers will not sacrifice all their interests, and 
 run the hazards of war for a country which will not even 
 promise after her indejDendence is secured to provide for 
 their support. Deeply impressed with the necessity and 
 importance of this measure, Washington wrote again to a 
 member of Congress, declaring " that if it was not adopted 
 he believed the army would disband, and even if it should 
 not, it would be without discipline, without energy, incapable 
 of acting with vigor, and destitute of those cements neces- 
 sary to promise success on the one hand, or to withstand 
 the shocks of adversity on the other." He said, " Men may 
 speculate as much as they will ; they may talk of patriotism, 
 they may draw a few examples, from ancient story, of great 
 achievements performed by its influence, but whoever builds 
 upon them as a sufficient basis for conducting a long and 
 
 bloody war, will find himself deceived in the end 
 
 I do not mean to exclude altogether the idea of patriotism. 
 
310 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 
 
 I know it exists, and I know it has done much in the pre- 
 sent contest. But I will venture to assert that a great and 
 lasting war can never be supported on this principle alone." 
 He might have added that officers and men felt that if they 
 owed the State obedience, the State in turn owed them pro- 
 tection ; or that if they risked life and fortune in the defense 
 of their country, she, when delivered, owed them some pro- 
 vision against want. It is hard to fight for a country tliat 
 degrades our efforts to the mere duties of a hireling. 
 Patriotism, like love for a fellow being, must have regard 
 in return or it will soon die out. Urged by Washington's 
 appeals, Congress at length passed the half-pay bill, but 
 shortly after reconsidered it, and finally compromised the 
 matter by allowing the officers half-pay for seven years, and 
 granting a gratuity of eighty dollars to each non-commis- 
 sioned officer and soldier who should serve to the end of the 
 war. Thus, while struggling with the difficulties that beset 
 him in camp, he was compelled to plead with a suspicious, 
 feeble Congress, and submit to its implied imputations. The 
 course it was taking he saw clearly would lead to mischief. 
 Its openly avowed suspicions of the army, he declared, was 
 just the way to make it dangerous. " The most certain 
 way (said he) to make a man your enemy, is to tell him 
 you esteem him such." Besides, the conduct of the army 
 did not warrant this jealousy. From first to last, it had 
 shown an example of obedience to the civil authorities, 
 worthy of the highest commendation, not of distrust. 
 "Washington boldly asserted that history could not furnish 
 another instance of an army " suffering such uncommon 
 hardships, and bearing them with the same patience and 
 fortitude. To see men (said he) without clothes to cover 
 their nakedness, without blankets to lie on, without shoes, 
 for the want of which their marches might be traced hy the 
 blood from their feet — and almost as often without provi- 
 sions as with them, marching through the frost and snow, 
 
CO UNT K V M KN- JOIXING TUK ARMY UNDER G\TK.S. 
 
. > 
 
LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 313 
 
 and at Christmas taking up their winter-quarters within a 
 day's march of the enemy, without a house or hut to cover 
 them till they could be built, and submitting without a 
 murmur, is a proof of patience and obedience which, in my 
 opinion, can scarce be jmralleled." No, it could not be 
 paralleled, and yet the greater the devotion and sufferings 
 of the army, the more neglectful, suspicious and hostile 
 Congress became. Its noble conduct demanded gratitude 
 and confidence, but received instead distrust and injury. 
 Thus, while exerting all his powers to protect and keep to- 
 gether the army, he had to devise and propose every im- 
 portant military measure, and then, at last, see many of his 
 plans fail through party spirit, and others so altered as to 
 lose half their value. It was under these accumulations of 
 evils the Conway cabal came to a head, and Washington saw 
 his own officers conspiring togetlier to effect his overthrow. 
 This was the darkest hour of his life, for not only misfor- 
 tunes, but things far more w^ounding to him than any 
 misfortune, were crowding him to the furthest limit of 
 endurance. 
 
 Thus passed the long, severe and gloomy winter, but 
 spring at last with its balmy breath arrived, and was hailed 
 with delight by the suffering trooj)S. Unjust and incon- 
 sistent as it may seem, there were many in Congress and 
 out of it who blamed Washington for not carrying on a 
 winter campaign. Of these members of Congress he spoke 
 in bitter sarcasm, declaring that they at first denied the 
 soldiers clothes, and then wanted them to keep the field in 
 winter. " I can assure these gentlemen," said he, " that 
 it is a much easier and less distressing thing to draw remon- 
 strances in a comfortable room, by a good fire-side, than to 
 occupy a cold, bleak hill, and sleep under frost and snow, 
 without clothes or blankets. However, although they seem 
 to have little feeling for the naked, distressed soldiers, I feel 
 
 superabundantly for them, and from my soul I pity those: 
 
 17 
 
3U LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 
 
 miseries which it is neither in my power to relieve nor pre- 
 vent." His indignation and scorn are moved at the inhu- 
 manity of such complaints, but they both yield to pity as 
 he contemplates the condition of his soldiers. But not- 
 withstanding the conspiracies surrounding him, the disaffec- 
 tion of some of his best officers, and the conduct of Congress, 
 and the state of his troops, he did not waver a moment in 
 his course. And when, in the middle of April, he received 
 a draft of Lord North's conciliatory bills, as they were 
 called, containing a new project for settling the difficulties 
 between the two countries, all his solicitude was aroused at 
 once, lest the favorable terms offered might be accepted, or 
 at least urged by men tired of the war, and despairing of 
 success. He immediately wrote to a member of Congress, 
 saying, " Nothing short of Independence, it appears to me, 
 can possibly do. A peace on any other terms would be, if 
 I may be allowed the expression, a peace of war." He ex- 
 pressed his views in full, in which, fortunately. Congress 
 coincided, and the three commissioners sent over by the 
 British government, Lord Carlisle, Governor Johnstone and 
 William Eden, after vainly striving for three months to 
 make arrangements with Congress, returned. Previous to 
 their departure, however, they attempted to send circulars 
 to each of the States, showing the terms of reconciliation 
 which had been rejected, and threatening those who con- 
 tinued their rebellious attitudes with the vengeance of the 
 king. 
 
 Another event soon after occurred, which shed sudden 
 sunshine on the gloomy encampment of Valley Forge, and 
 made its rude hovels ring with acclamations of joy. The 
 overthrow of Burgoyne had fixed the wavering attitude of 
 France, and on the 6th of February a treaty of defensive 
 alliance, as well as of amity and commerce, was signed on 
 her part, by Geraud, and on ours by the American commis- 
 sioners, Franklin, Duane, and Lee. The bearer of these 
 
LIFE OF WASIIINGTOX. 315 
 
 glad tidings arrived the last of April, and bonfires, illumi- 
 nations, the firing of cannon and ringing of bells announced 
 the joy Avith which it was received by the people. The 
 army was wild with excitement, and the bright May morn- 
 ing that dawned over the huts at Valley Forge did not more 
 certainly promise a coming summer than did this alliance 
 with one of the strongest powers on the globe assure our 
 success. Washington set apart the 7th of May to celebrate 
 this important event in form. At nine in the morning, 
 the troops were all assembled to hear divine service and 
 offer up their thanksgiving. A signal-gun, fired at half- 
 past ten, summoned the men to the field. At half-past 
 eleven, another signal-gun was fired, and the columns 
 began their march. At a third signal, a running fire of 
 musketry went down the first line and back the second. A 
 moment's silence followed, when at a given signal a loud 
 shout went up, and " Long live the King of France/' rolled 
 like thunder over the field. Before the echo had died away, 
 the artillery broke in, shaking the earth with its deep rever- 
 berations, and sending its sullen roar of joy far over the 
 Bpring-clad hills and valleys. After thirteen rounds, it 
 ceased, and the loud rattle of musketry succeeded, and then 
 the deepening shout of " Long live the friendly European 
 powers," again arose from the whole army. As a finale, 
 thirteen cannon were fired, followed by a discharge of mus- 
 ketry and a loud huzza to " The American States." All the 
 officers of the army then assembled to partake of a collation 
 provided by "Washington, and for once, plenty reigned in 
 the camp. When he took his leave, the officers arose and 
 began to huzza and shout " Long live Washington.'* They 
 kept it up till he and his suite had gone a quarter of a mile. 
 The latter, his heart swelling with joy and gratitude at the 
 bright prospect so suddenly opened before his country, and 
 his fiice lit up at the enthusiasm manifested on every side, 
 would often turn, and swinging his hat above his head, echo 
 
316 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 
 
 back the wild huzza. The uproar would then be redoubled 
 — hats flew into the air, and " AVashington, long live Wasli- 
 ington," was echoed and re-echoed over the field, and taken 
 up by the array till the whole atmosphere seemed an element 
 of joy. 
 
 The troops at this time presented a very different appear- 
 ance than when they went into winter-quarters. Better 
 clad, they had with the opening of spring been subject to 
 constant and severe discipline, by Baron Steuben, who had 
 joined the army during the winter. This generous stranger 
 had been aid to Frederic the Great, and was afterward 
 made grand-marshal of the court of Prince Hohenzollern- 
 Hechingen. The King of Sardinia, anxious to obtain his 
 services, had made him flattering offers to enter his army, 
 but the baron was well settled, with ample means, and re- 
 fused to accept them. In 1777, he passed though France, 
 on his way to England, to visit some English noblemen. 
 Count Germain, the French minister of war, was an old 
 companion-in-arms of Steuben, and he immediately began 
 to press the latter to enter the American service. The 
 wary French minister knew that our weakness lay in our 
 want of discipline, and ignorance of military tactics, and 
 tliat there could be no one found better fitted to render ua 
 aid in this department than he. For a long time Steuben 
 steadily refused, but the indefatigable Germain finally over- 
 came all his scruples, and he embarked for this country, 
 where he arrived on the 1st of December [1777]. Con- 
 gress received him with distinction, and at his own request, 
 he joined the army at Valley Forge, as a volunteer. Hia 
 astonishment at its aspect was unbounded. Such a famished, 
 half-naked, miserable collection of human beings he never 
 befoie saw dignified with the title of soldiers, and he de- 
 clared that no European army could be kept together a 
 week under such privations and sufferings. His amazement 
 at the condition of the army gave way to pity and respect 
 
LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 317 
 
 for men who, for a principle, would endure so much. As 
 soon as spring opened he commenced, as inspector- general, 
 to which office he had been appointed by Congress, to drill 
 the men. Ignorance of our language crippled him sadly at 
 first, but undiscouraged, he threw his whole soul into his 
 work, determined that such noble patriots should also be- 
 come good soldiers. Though choleric and impetuous, he 
 was generous as the day, and possessed a heart full of the 
 tenderest sympathy. The men, notwithstanding his tem- 
 pestuous moods, soon learned to love him. The good effects 
 of his instructions were quickly apparent, and now, when 
 Washington was about to open the summer campaign, he 
 saw with pride an army before him that could be wielded, 
 and that had confidence in its own skill. Still it was small, 
 and recruits came in slowly. The committee sent by Con- 
 gress to Valley Forge, to confer with Washington, agreed 
 that the whole force in the field should be forty thousand 
 men, exclusive of artillery and cavalry ; but when, the next 
 day after the grand celebration of the alliance with France, 
 a council of war was called, it appeared that there were, in- 
 cluding the detachments in the Highlands, only fifteen 
 thousand troops, and no prospect of increasing the total 
 number to more than twenty thousand. At Valley Forge 
 were eleven thousand eight hundred, while nineteen thousand 
 five hundred British occupied PhiladeljDhia, and ten thousand 
 four hundred more New York, not to mention between three 
 and four thousand in Rhode Island. Over thirty-three thou- 
 sand British soldiers were on American soil ; a force which 
 Congress had nothing adequate to oppose. In this council 
 it was resolved almost unanimously that it would be unwise, 
 under the circumstances, to commence offensive operations. 
 The army, therefore, remained quiet. Meanwhile, Howe 
 begpii to make preparations for evacuating Philadelphia. 
 
318 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 Lafayette at Barren Hill — The Oath of Allegiance taken by the Officers — Strange 
 Conduct of Lee — Evacuation of Philadelphia — Determination of Washington — • 
 Battle of Monmouth and Conduct of Lee — Arrival of the French Fleet — Attack 
 on New York planned — Failure of the Attempt against Nevrport, and Displea- 
 sure of the French Commander — Massacre of Baylor's Dragoons and American 
 Troops at Egg Harbor — Destitute Condition of the Army, and Opinions of Wash- 
 ington as to the Result of it — The Army in Winter-quarters — Miserable Condi- 
 tion of Congress — Sickness of Lafayette — Washington Consults with Congress 
 on the Plan of the Summer Campaign — Resolves to act solely against the Indians 
 — Sullivan's Expedition — Taking of Stony and Verplanck's Points — Governor 
 Tryon's Foray — Successful Attack of Wayne on Stony Point — Wretched state 
 of the Currency — Washington's Indignation against Speculators — Count Vcrgen- 
 nes' Views of Washington — Suffering of the Troops in Winter-quarters at Mor- 
 ristown— The Life Guard — Death of the Spanish Agent — Washington partakes 
 of the Communion in a Presbyterian Church — National Bankruptcy threatened 
 — Arrival of Lafayette with the News of a large French Force having SaHed — 
 Noble Conduct of the Ladies of Philadelphia, and of Robert Morris, in Supply- 
 ing the Soldiers with Clothing. 
 
 There was much truth in the reply of Dr. Franklin, when 
 told in London that Howe had taken Philadelphia, *' Say, 
 rather, that Philadelphia has taken General Howe." He 
 had lost more than three thousand men in the attempt to 
 reach the city, and having accomplished nothing toward the 
 real conquest of the country, was now about to march back 
 again. He had, in fact, been to this amazing expense, loss 
 of soldiers, and labor, to get into quarters which he could 
 have obtained quite as well in New York. 
 
 In the meantime, Washington, in order to restrain the 
 depredations of the British foraging parties, which were of 
 almost daily occurrence, and to watch more narrowly tho 
 movements of Howe, sent forward Lafayette, with abe ,t 
 two thousand men, who took post on Barren Hill, nim )r 
 ten miles from Valley Forge. This hill was across he 
 Schuylkill, and furnished an advantageous position. A 3 jry 
 Quaker, however, at whose house Lafayette had at first ta ien 
 
LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 319 
 
 up his head-quarters, informed Howe of the state of affairs, 
 who immediately sent out five thousand troops to seize hini. 
 The plan was to pass along the banks of the Schuylkill, 
 between Lafayette and the river, and while two detachments 
 held the only two fords he could cross in his retreat to camp, 
 a third, constituting the main body, should advance to the 
 attack. This plan was well laid, and promised complete 
 success. Lafiiyette was taken by surprise, and nearly sur- 
 rounded before he was aware of the presence of the enemy. 
 Only one ford lay open to him, and the column advancing 
 to occupy it was nearer to it than he. Yet it was his last 
 desperate resource. The road he took ran behind a forest, 
 and was invisible to the enemy. Along this he hurried his 
 troops, while, at the same time, he sent across the interval 
 between him and the enemy heads of columns, which, 
 showing themselves through the woods, deceived Grant, the 
 British commander, and he ordered a halt and prepared for 
 an attack. This produced a delay which enabled Lafiiyette 
 to reach the ford first, and cross it in safety, while lii.^ baf- 
 fled pursuers returned, chagrined and mortified, to Phila- 
 delphia. Washington, who had been informed in some way 
 of this movement, hurried forward, but as he rose a hill, he 
 saw that he was too late. The woods and shores between 
 him and Lafayette seemed alive with the red-coats, and the 
 long line of gleaming bayonets that almost surrounded the 
 American detachment, left scarcely a hope for its deliver- 
 ance. Washington was exceedingly agitated. It was La- 
 fayette's first essay at a separate command, and he would 
 feel the failure of his favorite boy- general more than of his 
 own. Besides, he could ill afford to lose two thousand men 
 in his present condition. He watched every movement 
 with his glass, and, at last, to his inexpressible joy and 
 astonishment, saw Lafayette lead his swiftly-marching 
 columns up to the ford and across it, in safety. The in- 
 tensest excitement prevailed in camp. The danger, indeed 
 
320 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 
 
 the almost certain overthrow, of Lafayette had been com- 
 municated to the army, and Washington had ordered it to 
 stand to arms, and when the former again entered Valley 
 Forge in safety, those occupying it made it shake with their 
 exultant shouts. 
 
 A short time before the breaking up of the camp at Valley 
 Forge, Washington, by the direction of Congress, adminis- 
 tered the oath of allegiance to the officers of the army. 
 The form of this oath was printed on a slip of paper, with 
 blanks to be filled with the name and rank of the officer, to 
 which he affixed his signature. Washington administered 
 it to the chief officers, and Stirling, Greene and Knox to the 
 others. To expedite the ceremony, several took the oath 
 together. As Washington was reading it to the leading 
 generals at the same same time, Lee, who had been ex- 
 changed for Prescot, taken at Newport, suddenly withdrew 
 his hand ; as quickly replacing it, he again withdrew it. 
 Washington paused, and inquired what he meant by his 
 hesitation. Lee replied, " As to King George, 1 am ready 
 enough to absolve myself from all allegiance to him, but I 
 have some scruples about the Prince of Wales." A roar of 
 laughter, in which Washington himself could not help join- 
 ing, followed this extraordinary exhibition of conscience. 
 
 Howe, having completed his preparations for evacuating 
 Philadelphia, secretly and silently stole out of the city be- 
 fore daylight, on the 18th of June, and commenced his inland 
 march for New York. Washington, anticipating this move- 
 ment, had dispatched Maxwell's brigade to New Jersey, to 
 cooperate with General Dickinson, commanding the militia 
 of the state, in retarding the enemy. The news at length 
 arriving of the actual departure of the British, he imme- 
 diately ordered Arnold, still lame from the wound received 
 at Saratoga, to occupy the city with a small detachment, 
 while Wayne and Lee, at the head of two divisions, were 
 directed to push rapidly across the Delaware and seize the 
 
LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 321 
 
 first strong position found on the further bank. Washing- 
 ton, with the remainder of the troops, followed, and in six 
 days the whole army encamped at Hopewell, five miles from 
 Princeton. He had previously, however, sent off Morgan to 
 hang with his six hundred riflemen on the enemy's right 
 flank. General Scott, with fifteen hundred picked men, and 
 Cadvvallader, in command of the Jersey militia and Penn- 
 sylvania volunteers, were afterward added, and directed to 
 concentrate rapidly on the left flank and rear. 
 
 In the meantime the motley host composing the British 
 army, was pressing slowly forward. With its long train of 
 baggage-wagons, horses and artillery, it stretched twelve 
 miles along the road. The apparently interminable line 
 was nearly half the day in passing a given point, and pre- 
 sented a singular spectacle, with its mixture of regulars and 
 loyalists, the whole terminating in a disorderly, boisterous, 
 immense crowd of camp-followers. 
 
 Washington had previously called a council of war, to 
 determine whether it was best to hazard a general engage- 
 ment. The decision was against it, which embarrassed him 
 much, for it was clearly his wish to bring on a decisive 
 battle. In this he was seconded strongly by Greene, La- 
 fayette, Steuben, Wayne, Duportail, and Patterson. There 
 is but little doubt that from the first he had determined to 
 attack Lord Howe, for after this council he asked no one's 
 advice, but proceeded on his own responsibility to take such 
 measures as would make an engagement inevitable. Wayne 
 was directed to join the divisions already pressing the 
 enemy, while all the advance parties, numbering nearly four 
 thousand men, Avere put under Lafayette, and ordered to 
 gain the left flank. Howe had designed to march directly 
 to Brunswick, and there embark for New York, but finding 
 Washington in front, and not wishing, encumbered as he 
 was, to give battle, he turned ofi" at Allentown, and took 
 the road leading to Monmouth Court-IIouse and Sandy 
 
322 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 
 
 Hook. At the latter place he expected to get his troops 
 and baggage aboard of the ships. But finding, as he ap- 
 proached the court-house, that the American army was 
 steadily closing on him, he ordered the whole baggage-train 
 to move to the front, and selecting a strong position, flanked 
 by woods and swamps, halted. Knowing that the gallant 
 young Lafayette, in executing the orders given him, would 
 inevitably bring on a battle, Washington took measures to 
 sustain him with the entire army, left under his own im- 
 mediate command. At this juncture Lee, whose rank enti- 
 tled him to the command of the advance, but who had 
 yielded it to Lafayette in disgust, because Washington paid 
 no attention to his advice, now asked to be reinstated. Em- 
 barrassed by this inconsistent conduct, Washington, how- 
 ever, concluded to send him forward with two additional 
 brigades to the aid of Lafayette, the whole to be under his 
 own command, but with orders not to interfere with any 
 plans which the latter had already set on foot. He, at the 
 same time, wrote to Lafayette, explaining the unpleasant 
 position into which this eccentric conduct of Lee had thrown 
 him, and expressed the confidence that he would waive his 
 right, and thus relieve him from it. It was well that the 
 American commander had such a noble, self-sacrificing heart 
 to appeal to, or there would have been a serious quarrel here 
 on the very eve of an engagement. The next morning, at 
 five o'clock, Washington, some six miles distant, was aroused 
 by the news that the British army had recommenced its 
 march. He immediatelj^ dispatched an aid to Lee with the 
 orders to attack the enemy, " imless there should be very pow- 
 erful reasons to the contrary." With any other commander 
 but Lee, this M^ould have brought on an immediate battle. 
 Washington expected this to be the result, and immediately 
 ordered the troops to march to his support. The 28th of 
 June was one of the hottest, sultriest days of the year. It 
 was also the Sabbath day, but the fierce mustering was not 
 

 WASHINGTON URGING TUE COUNTUYMAN TO GKKATEK b 1' h l. I). 
 
LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 325 
 
 to the sanctuary, nor the sounds that broke over the fields 
 the sweet call of the church-bell to quiet worshipers. 
 
 At early dawn Lee, in carrying out his orders, began to 
 close on the enemy. Soon after, word was brought him that 
 the whole British army was preparing to attack his division. 
 Spurring with his staff along a causeway across a swamp, he 
 galloped up a height beyond, on which Dickinson had drawn 
 up his troops, and surveyed the field before him. He could 
 not ascertain, from the conflicting reports, whether the 
 rumor was true or false. In the meantime, Lafayette, ob- 
 serving a false movement of a portion of the British army, 
 hastened to Lee and asked if a successful attack could not 
 be made there at once. " Sir," replied the latter, ** you do 
 not know British soldiers. We cannot stand against them. 
 We shall certainly bo driven back at first, and must be cau- 
 tious." The fiery Frenchman did not hold British valor in 
 such high estimation, and replied that they had been beaten, 
 and presumed could be beaten again. At all events he 
 would like to make the trial. It was now perfectly evident 
 to him that Lee did not intend to carry out Washington's 
 orders, and seeing at that moment an aid from the latter 
 gallop up, to obtain information, he told him aside, to say 
 to the general that his immediate presence on the spot was of 
 the utmost importance. In the meantime, Scott and Maxwell 
 were moving forward in beautiful order toward the right 
 of the enemy. Lafayette had wheeled his column, and was 
 pressing steadily toward the left, while Wayne was descend- 
 ing like a torrent from the heights. Lee was apparently about 
 to second this movement, when he saw the whole British 
 army wheel about and march back on the Middletown road, 
 as if to fall on him in one overwhelming attack. The whole 
 sandy plain, which, like that of Marengo, seemed made on 
 purpose for a battle-field, was filled with marching columns, 
 and echoed to the sound of stirring music and shouts of 
 men. In the distance streamed the long line of baggage- 
 
326 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 
 
 wagons, while nearer by, the glittering columns fell one 
 after another into the order of battle, the rattling cavalry 
 hurried forward with the blast of trumpets, and to Lee's 
 distempered vision, he was about to be overwhelmed, while 
 a deep morass in his rear cut off all retreat. He, therefore, 
 immediately dispatched his aids to the different corps, with 
 orders to fall back over the causeway, to the heights of 
 Freehold beyond. Lafayette, stung with rage, slowly and 
 reluctantly obeyed, while Wayne, astounded at the sudden 
 order, could with difficulty extricate himself from the posi- 
 tion in which this unexpected movement left him. The 
 whole army at length repassed the morass, but Lee neglected 
 to occupy the advantageous heights of Freehold, and con- 
 tinued to retreat, followed by the shouting, taunting enemy. 
 He did not even announce his retreat to Washington, and 
 thus prepare him for an event so disastrous as the collision 
 of one-half of the army in disorderly flight with the other 
 half, must inevitably prove. Early in the morning, when 
 about commencing the attack, he had dispatched a message 
 to the commander-in-chief, briefly explaining his plans, and 
 promising success. On the reception of this, Washington 
 ordered Greene to march to the right of Lee, and support 
 his Hank, while he himself pressed on directly in rear. 
 Although it was early in the morning, the heat was intense. 
 Not a breath of air stirred tlie still foliage, and the round, 
 fiery orb of day seemed to roll up a brazen sky. Washing- 
 ton, foreseeing how severely the troops would suffer from 
 the heat, ordered them to throw away their knapsacks and 
 blankets. Many went still further, and stripped off their 
 coats also, and marched in their shirt-sleeves. It was a ter- 
 rible day, the thermometer stood at ninety-six in the shade, 
 while the deep sand through which the panting soldiers 
 struggled, gave still greater intensity to the heat, and hence 
 increased immensely the pangs of thirst. But the scattered 
 firing in front had been heard, and the army pressed for- 
 
LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 327 
 
 ward with shouts. Washington, ignorant of Lee's retreat, 
 had dismounted where two roads met, and stood watchins 
 his marching columns, when a countryman dashed into his 
 presence and announced that Lee was in full and disorderly 
 retreat. His countenance instantly grew dark as wrath, and 
 with a burst of indignation he sprang into the saddle, and 
 burying the rowels in his steed, parted from the spot like a 
 bolt from heaven. A cloud of dust alone told the course of 
 the fiery and indignant chieftain. Meeting the head of the 
 first retreating column, he flung a hasty inquiry to Osgood, 
 the commander, as to the cause of this retreat, who replied 
 with an oath, " Sir, we are fleeing from a shadow'^ and then 
 dashed on to the rear, and reined up with a sudden jerk 
 beside Lee. Leaning over his saddle-bow, his face fairly 
 blazing Avith concentrated passion, he demanded, in a voice 
 of- thunder, the meaning of this disorderly retreat. Stung 
 by the overwhelming rebuke, Lee retorted angrily.* But 
 it was no time to settle differences, and wheeling his horse, 
 Washington spurred up to Oswald's and Stewart's regiments, 
 and exclaimed — " On you I depend to check this pursuit J^ 
 He then galloped along the ranks, and roused the enthu- 
 siasm of the soldiers to the highest pitch, till the glorious 
 shout of " Long live Washington'^ rose over the din of battle 
 and drowned the loud huzzas of the enemy. Never, even 
 while heading a charge, did Washington's personal appear- 
 ance and conduct inspire his troops with such wild enthu- 
 siasm. Under the sudden excitement into which he had 
 been thrown, and the extreme heat combined, that colorless 
 face which so rarely gave any indication of the fires within, 
 was now suffused, and two bright red spots burned on either 
 cheek, while his blue eyes fairly gleamed, and seemed to 
 
 • Mr. Sparks informed me that he once asked Lafayette, at Lagrange, what the 
 language of Washington to Lee really was. Lafayette replied, that although stand- 
 ing near to both at the time, he could not tell. It was not the words but the man- 
 ner that struck so deeply. No one had ever seen Washington so terribly excited 
 his countenance was frightful. 
 
328 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 
 
 emit fire. His reeking horse was flecked with foam as he 
 dashed hither and thither, and wherever his voice reached, 
 men stood still. The troops gazed on him with astonish- 
 ment, and even Lafayette forgot for an instant the peril of 
 the army, in admiration of his appearance, declaring after- 
 ward that he thought him at that moment the handsomest 
 man he had ever beheld. In a few minutes the whole ap- 
 pearance of the field was changed — the disorderly flying 
 mass halted — order sprung out of confusion, and right 
 under the galling fire of the enemy's guns, the ranks 
 wheeled and formed in perfect order. Having thus estab- 
 lished a firm front to the enemy, Washington rode back 
 to Lee, and exclaimed — *' Will you, sir, command in that 
 place ?" " Yes," replied the latter. " Well, then, I ex- 
 pect you to check the enemy immediately.^^ " Your orders 
 shall he obeyed'' retorted the enraged commander; ''and 
 I will not he the first to leave the field.'' The conflict then 
 became close and severe, and Washington, trusting to 
 the steadiness of the troops, hurried back to bring up his own 
 division. 
 
 Lee had now the main army on his hands, which pressed 
 against him with resistless power. The artillery played on 
 his exposed ranks, while to the sound of bugles the English 
 light-horse charged furiously on his left. Young Hamilton 
 watched with a beating heart the bursting storm, and fear- 
 ing that Lee would again retreat, crossed the field on a 
 furious gallop, and with his hat off, his hair streaming in 
 the wind, pressed straight for the spot where he stood, and 
 reining up beside him, exclaimed in that noble enthusiasm 
 which that day pervading all hearts saved the army, " I will 
 stay with you, my dear general, and die with you. Let us all 
 die here rather than retreat." Grand and glorious words, 
 spoken there in the din of battle, amid the whistling balls, 
 and worthy of the hero who uttered them. Lee struggled 
 nobly against the overwhelming numbers that pressed on 
 
LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 329 
 
 him, but was at length forced back.* So stubbornly, how- 
 ever, did the Americans dispute every inch of ground, that 
 when they retired from the woods the o])posing ranks were 
 intermingled. Half that gallantry two hours before would 
 have given a glorious victory. As it was, Lee succeeded in 
 effecting a safe retreat. 
 
 At this critical moment Washington arrived with the 
 other division, which came up on almost a trot, and panting 
 with thirst and heat. Hastily ordering up Greene on the 
 right, and Stirling on the left, he himself led the centre full 
 on the enemy. Stirling brought up Lieutenant Carrington's 
 artillery on a full gallop, and unlimbering them with aston- 
 ishing rapidity, opened a terrible fire on the advancing 
 columns. Lee rode up to Washington, sajang coldly, " Sir, 
 here are my troops ; how is it your pleasure I should dis- 
 pose of them ?" Between the exhausting heat and their 
 fierce conflict, they were completely beaten out, and Wash- 
 ington ordered them to the rear of Englishtown, while he 
 led on the battle with the fresh troops. The victorious 
 enemy, pressing eagerly after Lee, came suddenly on the 
 second line, now formed, and, flushed with success, bore 
 steadily down on the centre. But here was Washington, 
 around whom the troops gathered with invincible resolution 
 and dauntless hearts, while Wayne, from a hill crowned by 
 an orchard, rained a tempest of balls on the advancing 
 columns. Hurled back by the steady volleys, the latter 
 then moved almost simultaneously against the right and 
 
 * It was during this part of the battle that an Irishman, while serving his gun, 
 was shot down. His wife, named Molly, only twenty-two years of age, employed 
 herself, while he loaded and fired his piece, in bringing water from a spring near 
 by. While returning with a supply, she saw him fall, and heard the officer in 
 command order the gun to be taken to the rear. She immediately ran forward, 
 seized the rammer, declaring she would avenge his death. She fought her piece 
 like a hero to the last. The next morning, Greene, who had been struck with her 
 bravciy, presented her to Washington, who immediately promoted her to a ser- 
 geant, and afterward had her name put on the half-pay list for life. Previous to 
 this she fired the last gun when the Americans were driven from Fort Montgomery. 
 
ooU LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 
 
 left flanks of the Americans, but were immediately scourged 
 back by Knox's heavy guns and the fierce fire of Stirling's 
 battery. All this time Wayne kept firing with such deadly 
 precision on the British centre that every attempt to charge 
 proved abortive. Again and again the royal grenadiers 
 moved forward in splendid order, and with a resolute aspect, 
 but were as often compelled to retire from the close range 
 of the American fire. Col. Monckton, their leader, saw at 
 once that no progress could be made till Wayne was driven 
 from that orchard, and riding along the ranks of his brave 
 grenadiers, aroused their courage by his stirring appeals. 
 He then formed them in a solid column, and shouted ''for- 
 ward !" Moving swiftly forward at the charge step, but 
 with the regularity and steadiness of a single wave, they 
 swept up the slope. Wayne, the moment he detected the 
 movement, ordered his men to reserve their fire till the column 
 came within close range, and then aim at the officers. The 
 grenadiers kept steadily on till they arrived within a few 
 rods of the silent Americans, when Monckton waving his 
 sword over his head shouted, " Charge !" At the same 
 moment the order " Fire'' ran along the ranks of Wayne. 
 A deadly volley followed, and nearly every British officer 
 bit the dust, and among them the gallant Monckton. A 
 close, fierce struggle ensued over his dead body, but the 
 Americans finally bore it off in triumph. Wayne now bore 
 steadily down on the centre, while the shouts of his excited 
 troops were heard in the intervals of the heavy explosions 
 of artillery as they bore the strong battalions fiercely back. 
 Their march was like the step of fate, and they crowded the 
 astonished enemy to the head of the causeway, and across 
 it into the woods beyond. 
 
 All this time Morgan with his brave riflemen lay at Rich- 
 mond Mills, only three miles from Monmouth Court-IIouse, 
 waiting for orders. This iron-hearted commander, a host 
 in himself had his men drawn up in marching order, and as 
 
LIFE OF WASIIINGTOX. 331 
 
 the heavy and constant explosions of cannon rolled hy, fol- 
 lowed by the sharp rattle of musketry, he paced backward 
 and ft)rward in the road, a prey to the most intense excite- 
 ment. His eager eye sought in vain to catch the form of a 
 swift rider, bearing the order to move forward. All day 
 long he chafed like an imprisoned lion, yet, strange to sa}^, 
 his existence seemed to have been forgotten in the sudden 
 excitement and danger that followed Lee's mad retreat. 
 Had he been allowed to fall with his fresh troops on the 
 British rear, he would have broken them to pieces. 
 
 The scorching Sabbath day was now drawing to a close, 
 and as the blood-red sun sunk in the west, the whole British 
 army retreated, and took up a strong position on the spot 
 occupied by Lee in the morning. Woods and swamps were 
 on either side, while the only causeway over which troops " 
 could approach was swept by heavy batteries. Washington 
 rode up and scrutinized the position long and anxiously. 
 His strong frame had been tasked to the utmost, and as he 
 sat on his exhausted steed and cast his eye over his gallant 
 army, he saw that heat awd thirst had waged a more terrible 
 conflict with them than the balls of the enemy. On every 
 side arose the most piteous cries for water, and the well 
 were hardly able to carry the wounded to the rear, while 
 scores lay dead amid the sand, untouched by the foe. The 
 battle seemed over for the night, but Washington, stung and 
 mortified at the unpardonable errors and consequent misfor- 
 tunes of the day, determined to rest with nothing short of 
 a complete victory. He, therefore, brought up the two 
 brigades of Poor and Woodford, and ordered them to force 
 their way through the woods to the right and left flanks of 
 the enemy, while he hurried the heavy cannon of Knox ta 
 the front. In a few minutes the heavy batteries on both 
 sides opened. But the two brigades found so many ob- 
 stacles obstructing the way, and delaying their progress, 
 
 that night came on before they could reach their posts. The- 
 
 18 
 
332 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 
 
 attack was then abandoned ; the bugles sounded the recall 
 of the advance parties, the heavy firing ceased, and nothing 
 but the moans of the wounded and heavy tread of the bat- 
 talions taking up their position for the night, broke the 
 stillness of the Sabbath evening. The fainting army laid 
 down to rest on the heated plain, in the full expectation of 
 another battle in the morning. Washington stretched him- 
 self in his mantle, and the young Lafayette, feeling deeply 
 for the disappointment under which he knew him to be suf- 
 fering, stole quietly to his side. Washington wrapped him 
 affectionately in his mantle, and the two tired heroes slept 
 together under the open sky. 
 
 The British commander, however, had no intention of 
 risking another battle, and so, at midnight, quietly aroused 
 his slumbering army, and hurried away from the spot that 
 had so nearly witnessed his overthrow. The morning drum 
 roused up the American army at dawn, but no answering 
 sound came from the enemy's camp. The moment Wash- 
 ington was informed that they had fled, he sent on officers 
 to ascertain what distance the army had reached. He found, 
 to his great disappointment, that it had gained a march 
 of nearly nine miles, and with its long train of baggage- 
 wagons and artillery, was streaming swiftly along the road 
 toward Sandy Hook. Feeling that his troops were too ex- 
 hausted to overtake them, he gave up the pursuit. 
 
 The American loss in this battle was in all, killed, wounded 
 and missing, three hundred and fifty-eight; some of the 
 latter, however, afterward rejoined the army. The British 
 left two hundred and fifty on the field. Many they had 
 b)uricd during the night, and a large number of those not 
 badly wounded accompanied the army in its flight, so that 
 their loss was never ascertained. Fifty-nine lay dead with- 
 out a wound upon their persons. Several hundred took 
 occasion, during this battle and the march, to desert, and 
 returned to Philadelphia and to the sweethearts they loved 
 
LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 333 
 
 better than their country's service, and others remained in 
 New Jersey, so that the enemy was weakened in all proba- 
 bly not less than t^YO thousand men. 
 
 This, though a less bloody one, Avas one of the most re- 
 markable battles in the Revolution, and fixed the turning 
 point in the history of the army. The rally of the troops 
 while in full retreat, the steady formation of the lines under 
 the blaze of the enemy's guns, and after victorious assaults, 
 were achievements worthy of the most veteran troops, and 
 reflected honor on their teacher Steuben. Hamilton, who 
 had been accustomed only to the movements of militia, was 
 filled with admiration at the spectacle, and said he never 
 before knew the value of discipline. From that time on, 
 the regulars relied much on the bayonet, and the British, 
 grenadiers saw with amazement themselves beaten with 
 their favorite weapon. 
 
 Though justly indignant with Lee for thus robbing him 
 of victory, Washington immediately reinstated him in his 
 old command. Lee, however, was not content with this, 
 and wrote the latter an impertinent letter, to which a cold 
 and curt reply was made. Enraged at this second attack, 
 as he deemed it, on his honor and character, he wrote a still 
 more insolent letter, which brought down the charge from 
 his commander of being " guilty of a breach of orders, and 
 of misbehavior before the enemy, and in making an unne- 
 cessary, disorderly and shameful retreat." Lee's answer to 
 this severe accusation Avas so insulting that he was imme- 
 diately placed under arrest. His after trial and suspension 
 from the army are well known. 
 
 The army being recruited, Washington moved by easy 
 marches to the Hudson, and crossing at King's Ferry, en- 
 camped near White Plains. In the meantime he had heard 
 of the arrival on the coast of the French fleet, composed of 
 twelve ships of the line and four frigates, under Count D' 
 Estaing, He immediately dispatched a latter of congratu- 
 
SS4 LIFE OF WASHING-TON. 
 
 lation by his aid. Colonel Laurens, to the count. Soon after, 
 on being informed that the fleet had reached Sandy Hook, 
 he sent Colonel Hamilton to consult with him on the best 
 course to pursue. It was at first hoped that a combined 
 attack, by sea and land, could be made on New York, but 
 the pilots reporting that it would be impossible to take the 
 heavy ships over the bar, the enterprise was abandoned. 
 Philadelphia being evacuated, there seemed now no direc- 
 tion in which the fleet and army could cooperate except 
 Khode Island. There was a garrison of six or seven thou- 
 sand British at Newport, and it was therefore resolved that 
 Sullivan should proceed thither with five thousand men, 
 followed by Lafayette with two brigades, while the vessels 
 would proceed by sea. But the delay caused by the want 
 of troops proved disastrous to the expedition. Sullivan, 
 however, succeeded at length in gathering an army of ten 
 thousand men, and proceeded to besiege the place, while the 
 French fleet came steadily up the channel, past the English 
 batteries. Every thing now promised an easy victory, when 
 the fleet of Lord Howe was seen hovering in the distance. 
 D'Estaing immediately put to sea to engage it. But a vio- 
 lent storm suddenly arose, disabling both fleets, and com- 
 pelling the English vessels to return to New York for 
 repairs, while those of the French came limping back to 
 Newport. Sullivan's hopes again revived, but the French 
 admiral, deaf to all appeals, would not cooperate with him, 
 declaring his orders were, in case of any damage to repair 
 to Boston and refit. Sullivan, enraged at what he con- 
 sidered pusillanimous conduct, sent the count a fierce remon- 
 strance. This only made matters worse, and the fleet took 
 its departure for Boston, and the enterprise was abandoned. 
 The ill will caused by this protest of Sullivan annoyed 
 Washington exceedingly, and he took unwearied pains to 
 heal the breach that had been made. He wrote to Lafay- 
 ette to act as mediator, saying, *' Let me beseech you to 
 
 I 
 
 § 
 
NlOrili ATlACk Al PAULI. 
 
LIFE OP WASHINGTON. 337 
 
 afford a healing hand to the wound that has been unuiten- 
 tionally made. America esteems your virtues and your 
 services, and admires the principles on which you act. Your 
 countrymen in our army look up to you as their pattern. 
 The count and his officers consider you as a man high in 
 rank, and high in estimation here, and also in France, and 
 I, your friend, have no doubt but you will use your utmost 
 endeavors to restore harmony, that the honor, glory, and 
 mutual interest of the two nations may be promoted and 
 cemented in the firmest manner." Lafayette needed no 
 greater stimulus to action than the wishes of Washington, 
 and he put forth unwearied efforts till harmony was 
 restored. 
 
 There being a suspicion that the British might plan an 
 expedition to the east, for the purpose of attacking the 
 French fleet, and perhaps Boston, Washington took post at 
 Fredericksburg, near the Connecticut line, and commenced 
 repairing the roads as far as Hartford, so that the army 
 could march without impediment. Gates was sent, also, to 
 take command at Boston, in place of Heath. This almost 
 entire withdrawal of the troops east of the Hudson, left the 
 smaller detachments which remained on the other side, 
 much exjDosed, and provoked the attacks of the British. One 
 party fell on Major Baylor's dragoons, located near Tappan, 
 surprising and massacreing them without mercy. A similar 
 attempt was made on Pulaski's legion, stationed at Egg 
 Harbor, where privateers were being fitted out, and, through 
 the villany of a deserter, met with like success. 
 
 For four months the army lay comparatively idle, wait- 
 ing the further movements of the British. In the mean- 
 time Washington became very solicitous about the future. 
 The want of funds in the treasury, together with the high 
 price of food and clothing, seemed to threaten greater evils 
 ihan mere physical exposure and suffering. The officers 
 could not live on their pay, and Congress was without means 
 
338 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 
 
 to raise it, while discontent and loud complaints pervaded 
 the army. In a letter to Gouverneur Morris, replying to 
 certain inquiries, he says — " Can we carry on the war much 
 longer ? Certainly not, unless some measures can be de- 
 vised, and speedily, to restore the credit of our currency, 
 restrain extortion, and punish forestallers. Unless these can 
 b3 effected, what funds can stand the present expenses of 
 the army? And what officer can bear the weight of prices 
 that every necessary article is now got to ? A rat in the 
 shape of a horse is not to be bought at this time for less 
 than two hundred pounds, nor a saddle under thirty or 
 forty ; boots twenty, and shoes, and other articles in pro- 
 portion. How is it possible, therefore, for officers to stand 
 this without an increase of pay ? And bow is it possible to 
 advance their pay when Hour is selling at different places 
 from five to fifteen pounds per hundred weight ; hay from 
 ten to thirty pounds per ton, and beef and other essentials 
 in this proportion." It was plain that this state of things 
 could not last. The officers, wholly unable to meet their 
 necessary expenses, would inevitably become bankrupt. 
 
 During this summer a project was set on foot for the 
 invasion of Canada by the allied armies, assisted by the 
 fleet, but it met with Washington's decided opposition, and 
 was finally abandoned. 
 
 Autumn closed without any expedition of importance 
 being undertaken, and the army retired to winter-quarters. 
 The artillery was taken to Pluckemin, while the troops 
 stretched in a Vine of cantonments from Long Island Sound 
 to the Delaware. Head quarters were at Middlebrook, 
 where were stationed, also, seven brigades. One brigade 
 was at Elizabethtown, another near Smith's Close, to act as 
 a reinforcement in case of need to "West Point ; and one 
 at West Point. There were, also, two brigades at the Con- 
 tinental village, situated between West Point and Fishkill, 
 and three near Danbury, Connecticut. Thus the enemy in 
 
LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 330 
 
 New York were confined to a small simce for action, whilo 
 our troops, by reaching over so large a territory, could more 
 easily obtain forage. Putnam was at Danbury, and McDou- 
 gall in the Highlands, while Lincoln was sent to take com- 
 mand at Charleston, to rejDel any attack the British might 
 make on that city during the winter. Of the four regi- 
 ments of cavalry, one was in each of the States of Virginia, 
 Marjdand, Pennsylvania, and Connecticut. 
 
 The vexed question of exchange of prisoners again came 
 up, and Washington was much annoyed at the difficulties 
 thrown in the way of its final adjustment. But the greatest 
 cause of distress and anxiety was the contemptible condition 
 to which Congress was reduced. During the whole year i< 
 averaged not more than thirty members. Says Sparks : 
 " Whole States were frequently unrepresented ; and, indeed, 
 it was seldom that every State was so fully represented as 
 to entitle it to a vote." But although so feeble in numbers, 
 it was still feebler in intellect. There were but few even 
 second-rate men among the members. Still its feebleness 
 both in numbers and intellect, was not the worst features it 
 exhibited. It had descended to a mere political arena, 
 where j)rivate jealousies, and party feuds fought their bat- 
 tles, reckless alike of the great struggle without, or the wel- 
 fare of the country, except so far as they affected their 
 selfish ends. Perhaps it is not to be regretted that its jour- 
 nals were destroj^ed, and the history of our country saved 
 from so great a blemish as the record of its acts would have 
 1)een. The views and feelings of Washington on the sub- 
 ject are exhibited in a letter to Benjamin Harrison, of Vir- 
 ginia. In that he declared without hesitation, that he 
 thought the separate States should " compel their aUest men 
 to attend Congress.'' He said they were too busy with their 
 individual concerns, but if the whole government should 
 continue to be mismanaged, they, too, would ''sink in the 
 general Avreck, which will carry with it the remorse of 
 
340 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 
 
 thinking that we are lost by our own folly and negligence." 
 " The piibHc," he said, " believed that the States at this 
 time are badly represented, and that the great and impor- 
 tant concerns of the nation are horribly conducted, for want 
 either of abilities or application in the members, or through 
 the discord and party views of some individuals." It was 
 plain that without some change in the administration of the 
 national affairs the Revolution, with all its momentous in- 
 terests, must end in utter failure. 
 
 While Washington remained at head-quarters, Lafayette 
 arrived at Fishkill, on his way to Boston, previous to em- 
 barking for France. Here he fell sick. His journey from 
 Philadelphia, in the midst of severe storms, had brought on 
 an inflammatory fever, which carried him to the verge of 
 the grave. His life was despaired of, and the whole army 
 was in mourning. Washington immediately repaired to his 
 bedside, and watched over him with the solicitude and fond- 
 ness of a father. The young marquis was deeply affected 
 by this attention, and carried the remembrance of it with 
 gratitude and affection to his grave. 
 
 The army being well hutted, and things comparatively 
 quiet, Washington proceeded to Philadelphia, to consult with 
 Congress on the best means to be adopted. He proposed 
 three plans. First, to operate against the enemy on the 
 sea-coast. The second to attack Niagara, and the British 
 forces in that region, and the third to remain entirely on 
 the defensive against the' British, and act only against the 
 Indians, who had grown bold by their impunity. The lat- 
 ter was resolved upon as giving repose to the country, and 
 at the same time permitting a retrenchment in the expenses 
 of the war, and restoring the currency, which was now in 
 a shocking condition. The evils growing out of an army 
 unemployed, and also of such a tacit confession of weakness, 
 Washington thought would be overbalanced by the relief 
 from military exaction, and by the fact that the alliance 
 
LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 341 
 
 with France, and the threatened war of Spain with England' 
 would tend more to secure the acknowledgment of our in- 
 dependence, than victories. If he had consulted personal 
 ambition, he would not have consented to idleness, which is 
 always dangerous to a commander's reputation. 
 
 Having completed his arrangements with Congress, he 
 returned to Middlebrook. The army was consequently re- 
 duced, and more attention paid to its discipline, which was 
 entrusted to Steuben. In the meantime the expedition re- 
 solved upon against the Indians, was set on foot. The Six 
 Nations, with the exception of the Oneidas, and a few of 
 the Mohawks, had joined the English, and, assisted by the 
 Tories, kept the New York frontiers drenched in blood. The 
 tragedies which were enacted at Cherry Valley and Wy- 
 oming, with all their heart-sickening details and bloody pas- 
 sages, were fresh in the recollection of every one. The Six 
 Nations were spread along the Susquehanna, and around 
 our inland lakes, extending as far as the Genesee Flats. 
 The plan adopted by Washington was, to have Sullivan, 
 with three thousand men, start from Wyoming, and advance 
 up the Susquehanna, while General James Clinton, with 
 one brigade, should ascend the Mohawk, and form a junction 
 with the former wherever he should direct. Sullivan left 
 Wyoming the last day of July, and did not return till the 
 middle of October. He traversed the solitudes as far as 
 Genesee river, burning and laying waste the towns and 
 villages, and rich fields of grain ; moving like a devastating 
 scourge over the land, and inflicting a punishment on the 
 Indian tribes, which they never forgot. 
 
 While Sullivan's army was thus feeling its way through 
 the wilderness, Sir Henry Clinton, with a large body of 
 troops ascended the Hudson, for the purpose of attacking 
 Verplanck's Point and Stony Point, standing opposite each 
 other, and, if possible, force his way through the Highlands. 
 But Washington, being apprised of his designs, hurried off 
 
342 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 
 
 couriers to the different brigades in New Jersey, and soon 
 their tread along the banks of the Hudson convinced Clin- 
 ton that it would be a desperate undertaking to attempt to 
 force the strong passes above, while so well guarded. He, 
 however, took possession of the two points, which were fee- 
 bly manned, and leaving strong garrisons in each, returned 
 to New York. Washington then removed his head-quarters 
 to New Windsor, a few miles above the gorge of the High- 
 lands, and looking directly on West Point, while his army 
 swarmed the forest-clad shores on either side, watching with 
 anxious care this gateway of the State. 
 
 Having thus drawn the forces under Washington into the 
 Highlands, Clinton made a sudden incursion into Connect!- 
 cut, hoping to tempt him thither also, where a more open 
 country would make a battle less hazardous. Governor 
 Trj^on, with two thousand men, sailed up Long Island 
 Sound, and plundered New Haven. He then returned to 
 Fairfield and Norwalk, and burnt them to the ground. No 
 public stores were at either of these places, and the whole 
 expedition was simply to pillage and to burn the dwellings 
 of peaceful citizens. It was the unexpected irruption of a 
 band of robbers, and the atrocities committed inflicted a 
 lasting disgrace on the name of Tryon, and covered Sir 
 Henry Clinton with infamy. This attempt to entice Wash- 
 ington away from his stronghold proved abortive. It, how- 
 ever, broke up his plan of not acting on the offensive, and 
 he determined to strike a blow which, while it inflicted a 
 severe chastisement on the enemy, should at the same time 
 hush the complaints against his inaction. This blow was 
 no less than the recapture of Stony and Verplanck's Points, 
 with all their stores and armaments. It was his purpose 
 at first to assail them both the same night, but this he after- 
 ward abandoned, and concluded only to make a feint on the 
 garrison at the latter place, to distract it from the attack 
 on the former. To prevent miscarriage, through want of 
 
LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 343 
 
 information, he carefully reconnoitered the place himself, and 
 directed Major Henry Lee, who commanded a body of 
 cavalry in the neighborhood, to ascertain accurately the 
 condition of the fortress, and strength of the garrison. Tliis 
 being done, he called no council of war, consulted none of 
 his officers, but having fixed on Wayne as the proper person 
 to take charge of the hazardous enterprise, sent for him, 
 and explained to him his plans. Wayne at first seemed 
 doubtful of success, but was ready to attempt any thing on 
 Washington's request. To prevent any information of the 
 project reaching the enemy, Washington communicated it 
 to no one but Wayne, and one member of his family. The 
 night before the attack, however, he sent for Colonel Ptufus 
 Putnam, and took him into the secret, because he wished 
 him to make the false attack on Verplanck's Point. 
 
 Stony Point was considered almost impregnable to any 
 storming party, it being washed on two sides by the Hud- 
 son, while on the other lay a morass, which was overflowed 
 at high water. Besides these natural defenses, a double 
 row of abattis surrounded the hill, the whole surmounted 
 by the fortress, itself garrisoned by six hundred men, and 
 bristling with cannon. Washington, fully aware of the 
 peril of the undertaking, drafted every officer and soldier 
 himself, and a more splendid body of men never moved un- 
 flinchingly up to the cannon's mouth. 
 
 On the night of the 15th July, Wayne set out with his 
 command, and at eleven o'clock reached the morass, which 
 he found covered with two feet of water. The word " halt" 
 then passed in a whisper down the line, and the whole stood 
 to their arms while he and some of the officers reconnoitered. 
 It was resolved to make the attack in two columns, and on 
 both sides at once. Every musket of the advance j^arties 
 was unloaded, and at the word forward, they, with shoul- 
 dered pieces, plunged into the water, and pushed swiftly 
 toward the heights. The sentinels on watch immediately 
 
344 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 
 
 gave the alarm, the shout of " to arms /" " to arms /'* and 
 roll of drums rang along the hill, and in a moment that 
 loftj rock was in a blaze, and raining a fiery deluge on 
 Wayne's columns. But nothing could shake their steady 
 courage. Through the iron sleet, over their own dead, over 
 the abattis and up the steep acclivity, they pressed sternly 
 on, the only sound- heard in their otherwise silent ranks 
 being the high and ringing order "forward" "forward," 
 of the officers. Their tread was like the march of destinj'^, 
 and bearing down every obstacle, both columns entered the 
 fort together, and as they met, the shout of victory rose 
 wildly to the midnight heavens. It was gallantlj^ gloriously 
 done. Wayne had a narrow escape. A musket-ball grazed 
 the top of his head, and brought him to his knees. " March 
 on," he shouted •' carri/ me into the fort. I will die at the head 
 of my column." Next sunrise the morning-gun was fired 
 by an American hand, and carried consternation to the 
 English ships below. The land rung with acclamations. 
 Wayne was overwhelmed with compliments, and his name 
 was in every one's mouth. It was the most brilliant ex- 
 ploit during the war, and would have covered the veterans 
 of a hundred battles with glory. 
 
 Washington went up to the fortress after the capture and 
 examined it. Finding that it would require too many men 
 to hold it against the force which the enemj^ could bring 
 against it, by means of their fleet, he ordered the works to 
 be destroyed. Lee's subsequent daring and successful attack 
 at Paulus Hook, with his dismounted dragoons, was a repe- 
 tition of the affair at Stony Point, and added fresh laurels to 
 those which already adorned that noble officer*shead. With 
 these brilliant exceptions, the array under Washington re- 
 mained for the most part quiet. He employed this season 
 of comparative inaction in corresponding with Congress, 
 and other distinguished men, on the affliirs of the country, 
 especially on the state of the currency. Congress continued 
 
LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 345 
 
 to issue its worthless paper to such an extent, that by the 
 following spring two hundred million of dollars were found 
 to be afloat, and not one dollar redeemable. So low had 
 this paper depreciated, that forty dollars of it, at that time, 
 was equivalent to only one dollar in coin. This state of the 
 currency was ruinous to every class of inhabitants, but on 
 none did it fall so heavily as the soldiers and officers. As 
 money sunk prices rose, and the officers were compelled to 
 pay double for every thing, so that many resigned to escape 
 beggary. " It was no uncommon thing to give a month's 
 pay for a breakfxst," said Colonel, afterward General, Wil- 
 liam Hull. He himself gave eleven thousand two hundred 
 and fifty dollars for a chaise with a double harness. Added 
 to this, speculators who had funds would buy up any article 
 which they ascertained would soon be in demand, and thus 
 exhaust the market, and then lay their own prices. These 
 things aroused the indignation of Washington, and troubled 
 him exceedingly. He declared that he was not afraid of the 
 enemy's arms, but of this prostrate currency, and utter want 
 of patriotism. He reasoned, he expostulated, he appealed. 
 He plead not only for the living, but for the " unborn mil- 
 lions," whose fate this struggle was to effect. " Shall," he 
 exclaimed, " a few designing men, for their own aggran- 
 dizement, and to gratify their own avarice, overset the 
 goodly fabric we have been rearing at the expense of so 
 much time, blood and treasure ? And shall we at last be- 
 come the victims of our own lust of gain ? Forbid it — 
 Heaven !" He found, also, cause of annoyance in the un- 
 ceasing assassin-like attacks of Gates, and the more bold, 
 open and malevolent assaults of Lee, who pursued him with 
 such relentless fury that the name of Washington became 
 the " moon of his madness." 
 
 The French minister, Gerard, who accompanied Count 
 D'Estaing, came to camp this summer, and had long con- 
 sultations with Washington, and formed various i^lans for 
 
346 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 
 
 the future. His letter to Count Vergennes at this time, 
 shows that he was as much impressed by Washington's pre- 
 sence and greatness of intellect as others. That impalpable 
 influence and grandeur, which it has been found impossible 
 to convey an idea of through language, affected all alike, 
 from the most accomplished noblemen of Europe to the wild 
 Indian of our own forests. 
 
 As winter approached, head-quarters were established at 
 Morristown, and the army, pitching its tents on the southern 
 slope of Kimble's Mountain, commenced building huts. The 
 cavalry was sent to Connecticut, while strong detachments 
 guarded the passes of the Hudson. Clinton finding himself 
 so closely watched, and constantly thwarted in any move- 
 ments around New York, resolved on an expedition to the 
 South, and at the latter end of December set sail for Charles- 
 ton, with seven thousand troops. 
 
 Washington, during the winter occupied the house of 
 Widow Ford, to which he in February added two log build- 
 ings. In a meadow at a short distance from the dwelling, 
 between forty and fifty huts were erected for the Life Guard, 
 numbering at this time two hundred and fifty. It was in 
 this meadow Pulaski drilled his legion, and performed those 
 daring and extraordinary feats of horsemanship for which 
 he was celebrated. The winter set in excessively cold — 
 nothing like it had ever been experienced in this country. 
 The ice in New York Bay was frozen so solid that heavy 
 artillery and troops crossed from the city to State n Island. 
 The sufferings of the troops were consequently severe. The 
 snow averaged from four to six feet deep on a level, obstruct- 
 ing the roads and keeping back provisions from camp, so 
 that the half frozen soldiers would sometimes go a week 
 without meat of any kind, and then again without bread. 
 All through January this half-starved army was protected 
 only by tents, and with nothing but straw between them 
 and the frozen ground, and a single blanket to cover them. 
 
''^^'^' 
 
 
 ATTACK ON FORT IIIFFLIN. 
 
LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 349 
 
 Human nature could not bear up against such protracted 
 sufferings, and desertions and plunder of private property 
 became frequent. 
 
 Washington, all this time, had not a kitchen to cook his 
 dinner in, although his guards had put up the logs of one 
 for him. His family consisted of eighteen, which, with that 
 of Mrs. Ford, were *' all crowded together in her kitchen, 
 and scarce one of them able to speak for the colds they had 
 caught." Washington crowded into a kitchen with more 
 than twenty others, for two months, without salary, without 
 reward of any kind, and struggling with a selfish Congress, 
 and compelled to defend the purity of his motives from the 
 aspersions of those for whose benefit he is laboring, is a 
 study for a patriot. 
 
 During this extreme cold weather. Lord Stirling took 
 fifteen hundred men in sleds and crossed the ice at midnight, 
 from Elizabethtown to Staten Island, to surprise the British. 
 The latter had, however, got wind of the expedition, and 
 the troops returned with only a few prisoners, some blankets 
 and stores as trophies. One third of this detachment had 
 some parts of their persons frozen, and were more or less 
 seriously injured. A sort of partisan warfare was maintained 
 all winter, keeping the camp in a constant state of watch- 
 fulness. As an illustration of the duties of the Life Guard, 
 it was their habit during this winter, at the first discharge 
 of guns along the line of sentinels, to rush into Washing- 
 ton's house, barricade the doors, throw up the windows, and 
 stand five to a window, with muskets cocked and brought 
 to a charge. On some mere foolish alarm, Washington's 
 wife and Mrs. Ford would often be compelled to lie shiver- 
 ing within their bed-curtains till the cause of it could be 
 ascertained. 
 
 The Chevalier de Luzerne, who had succeeded Gerard as 
 minister, visited Washington in camp, as he had previously 
 done at West Point. The cheerful manner with which he, 
 
350 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 
 
 from the first, accepted the poor fare and miserable accom- 
 modations offered him, had won the good-will and respect 
 of both officers and men. Spain having also at last declared 
 war against England, our prospects grew still brighter, and 
 a Spanish agent, though not an accredited one, named Mi- 
 ralles, accompanied Luzerne to look after the interests of his 
 government in the south. He died this winter at Morris- 
 town, and was buried with distinguished honors, Washing- 
 ton and the principal officers appearing as chief mourners. 
 To prevent any one from reopening the grave, to obtain 
 possession of the diamonds and jewels that were buried with 
 him, a guard was placed over it till the body could be taken 
 to Philadelphia for interment. 
 
 It was while encamped here that the following incident 
 occurred, illustrating Washington's religious character. On 
 hearing that the sacrament of the Lord's Supper was to be 
 administered in the Presbyterian church, the following Sun- 
 day, lie called on the pastor, Dr. Jones, and inquired if they 
 allowed the communicants of other churches to unite with 
 them in the service. " Most certainly," replied the doctor, 
 "ours is not a Presbyterian table, but the Lord's table, 
 general, and hence we give the Lord's invitation to all his 
 followers of whatever name." Washington replied that he 
 was glad of it — that so it should be, and next Sunday was 
 seen seated among the communicants. Unsulhed by his 
 camp life, with not a stain on his blade, he could go from 
 the battle-field to the communion-table, as well as to his 
 closet in the wintry forest. 
 
 The subject of the exchange of prisoners being again pre- 
 sented by the British commander, the French minister was 
 very solicitous that Washington should not consent to any 
 but the most favorable terms ; urging the double motive 
 that the British government now found it hard to replenish 
 the army from Germany, and needed men badly, and, also, 
 that it was of the utmost importance to insist on a perfect 
 
LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 351 
 
 equality In all things, not only for our own sake at home, 
 but from the effect of such a position abroad. 
 
 During this winter the finances of the country reached 
 their lowest ebb, and national bankruptcy seemed inevitable. 
 Lotteries for loans, laws making paper a legal tender, and 
 every substitute only plunged the nation into deeper diffi- 
 culties. Every measure calculated to bring relief was seized 
 on by speculators, to advance their own interests, and thus 
 added to the embarrassment already existing. Washington 
 became so indignant at this villany of "forestallcrs,^^ as he 
 called them, or mere speculators, that in a letter to Read, 
 he said — " I would to God that some of the more atrocious 
 in each State were hung in gibbets, upon a gallows four 
 times as high as the one prepared for Haman." The British 
 and loyalists saAV the dilemma into which the government 
 had fallen, and increased it by issuing large quantities of 
 forged paper. They felt and said that unless we could ob- 
 tain a foreign loan, which they did not believe possible, 
 " unless all the moneyed nations had turned fools," we must 
 inevitably go to the wall. No more battles were needed ; 
 bankruptcy would finish the rebellion. Washington had all 
 along predicted such a crisis, and now, with other j)atriots, 
 looked gloomily into that gloomiest of all gulfs in time of 
 war, a bankrupt treasury, 
 
 At the beginning of April the army consisted of only ten- 
 thousand four hundred men. This number was soon after 
 still more reduced, by sending off reinforcements to the 
 South, where now was the chief theatre of the war. 
 
 To enliven a little the gloom that at this time encom- 
 passed the struggle for liberty, Lafayette, the untiring friend 
 and resistless pleader for the American cause, arrived with 
 the cheerful intelligence that the French government had 
 sent six ships-of-the-line, and six thousand troops, which 
 would soon be on our coast. He landed at Boston amid 
 public rejoicing, but locked up the glad tidings he bore, till 
 
 19 
 
352 ■ LIFE or AVASniNGTON. 
 
 he could pour them forth to the man he loved better than 
 his life. The meeting of Washington and Lafayette was 
 like that of a son and father. The eager delight with which 
 the one recounted what he had done, and told of the aid 
 that was approaching, and the deep and affectionate interest 
 with which the other listened, would form a subject for a 
 noble picture. The marquis had obtained the promise of 
 large supplies of clothing, while he had purchased on his own 
 account, a quantity of swords and military equipage for the 
 light-infantry he commanded. In speaking in council one 
 day, of the enthusiasm and impetuosity of Lafayette, the 
 Prime Minister of France, old Count de Maurepas, remarked 
 — " It is fortunate for the king that Lafayette did not take 
 it into his head to strip Versailles of its furniture, to send 
 to his dear Americans, as his majesty would be unable to 
 refuse it." How little the governments of France and 
 Spain dreamed what a train they were laying under their 
 own thrones, when they came to our relief in the struggle 
 for independence. There never has been a more striking 
 ilhistration of the folly of human scheming, and of the ease 
 with which Heaven works out its grand designs, over all 
 earthly mutations, as the ultimate result of our success on 
 the destiny of Europe. 
 
 As the summer advanced, the destitution of the troops in 
 the article of clothing became an object of the deepest soli- 
 citude. Many of the officers looked like beggars, while the 
 tattered soldiers, most of them, had not a shirt to their 
 backs. Congress being apparently unable to do any thing, 
 private sympathy was invoked. The ladies of Philadel- 
 phia, from the highest to the lowest, met together to make 
 garments for the soldiers. Lafayette gave a hundred 
 guineas in the name of his wife. The wife of the French 
 minister six hundred dollars of continental paper. Like the 
 heroines of old, the women sacrificed their jewelry, and 
 labored as common seamstresses in the no1)le work. Twenty- 
 
LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 353 
 
 two hundred shirts were thus made, each bearing the name 
 oT the maker. A ship load of mihtary stores and clothing, 
 belonging to Hobert Morris, arriving about this time, this 
 noble financier immediately made a present of the whole to 
 the army. Such flashes of light shot through the gloom, 
 keeping alive the faith, and love, and courage of those on 
 whose shoulders the Revolution rested. 
 
354 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 
 
 CHAPTER Xn. 
 
 Fall of Charleston — Arrival of the French Fleet — Defeat of Gates — Washington 
 visits Rochanibeau — Treason of Arnold — Arrest of Andre — His Execution — 
 Cornwallis in the South — Project of an Attaclc on New York — Suffering of the 
 Troops — Mutiny in Wayne's Command — Mutiny of the New Jersey Troops, and 
 prompt action of Washington — InefKciency of Congress, and Jealousies of the 
 States — Arnold's Expedition into Virginia — Action between the English and French 
 Fleets — Lafayette sent South to cooperate with Steuben — Operations in Virginia 
 — Washington's Letter to the Manager of his Estate — State of the Army — Letter 
 to Paul Jones — Patriotism of Robert Morris — Washington prepares to Attack 
 New York — Cornwallis Retreats before Lafayette to Y^orktown — The Allied 
 Army marches rapidly South— Washington visits Mount Vernon — Arrival of the 
 French Fleet in the Chesapeake — Anxiety of Washington — Y'oiktown Invested — ■ 
 Progress and Incidents of the Siege — Capitulation of the Army — Excitement and 
 Joy of the American People — Effect of the News on the British Ministry. 
 
 Washington remained comparatively inactive during the 
 summer, waiting the arrival of the French fleet and army. 
 Nothing could be done with his feeble force, unsustained by 
 a fleet, except to hold the country around New York. In 
 the meantime his heart was filled with the deepest solicitude 
 for the fate of Charleston and the army under Lincoln, which 
 occupied it. Hemmed in by the enemy, w^hose shot and 
 shells fell with an incessant crash into the dwellings of the 
 inhabitants, this intrepid commander, who had held out long 
 after hope had abandoned every heart, was at last compelled 
 with his three thousand troops to surrender. A dark cloud 
 was resting on the South ; and that portion of the country 
 which had hitherto escaped the ravages of an army, seemed 
 now marked out for general devastation. • 
 
 In the meantime, the French fleet arrived (July 10) at 
 Newport. Hochambeau, the commander of the land forces, 
 was required by his government to act in all cases under 
 the direction of Washington, while American officers were 
 to command French officers of equal rank. This wise 
 arrangement produced harmony between the two armies. 
 
LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 355 
 
 and gave universal satisfaction. Washington immediately 
 drew up a plan for a combined attack on New York by sea 
 and land. But the British fleet having received a rein- 
 forcement which gave it a decided superiority, the French 
 squadron dared not put to sea, and remained blockaded in 
 Newport. There also the French army remained for its 
 protection, waiting the arrival of the other division of the 
 fleet* and land forces, and the summer passed away without 
 any thing being accomplished. 
 
 In the place of success, there came the news of successive 
 defeats at the South. The flill of Charleston in May was 
 followed in August by the complete overthrow of Gates, at 
 Camden — the loss of many noble troops and the death of 
 Baron de Kalb. 
 
 While in this state of inaction Rochambeau wrote to 
 Washington, requesting an interview. This was granted, 
 and the latter passing through Peekskill, met the former on 
 the 21st, at Hartford. Before starting he had written to 
 Arnold, commanding at West Point, to send a guard of fifty 
 men to meet him at Peekskill, and collect forage for about 
 forty horses. 
 
 Arnold came down the river in his barge, and crossed the 
 river with him at King's Ferry. The English vessel Vul- 
 ture was in sight, and Washington scanned it long and 
 carefully with his glass, and spoke at the same time, in a 
 low tone, to one of his officers. This made Arnold very 
 uneasy. Soon after, Lafayette, turning to Arnold, said, 
 " General, as you have secret correspondence with the ene- 
 my, 3^ou must learn what has become of Guichen."! For a 
 moment the traitor thought himself discovered, and de- 
 manded, sharply, what the marquis meant. The next 
 
 * This was blockaded in Brest, and never arrived. 
 
 ■\ Guiclicn was the commander of the other portion of the French fleet, which Lad 
 for a long time been expected, but which at tliis time was blockaded at Brest. 
 
S56 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 
 
 minute, however, the boat touched the shore and nothing 
 more was said. 
 
 Washington's visit to Rochambeau resulted in no plan of 
 action, as every thing depended on the arrival of the ex- 
 pected fleet and forces. 
 
 After two days of pleasant intercourse, he started on his 
 return, taking the upper route by way of Fishkill, so as to 
 visit West Point. In the meantime, Arnold had completed 
 his scheme, by which a blow was to be struck, against the 
 colonies so momentous in all the circumstances attending 
 it, and in the results designed to be accomplished, that even 
 its failuix) fell like a thunderbolt at noon-day on the nation. 
 This intrepid commander, who had won such laurels before 
 Quebec, on Lake Champlain, and at Saratoga, sought and 
 obtained the important command at West Point solely to 
 deliver it into the hands of the enemy. Incensed at the 
 injustice of Congress in promoting juniors over him, mad- 
 dened by the accusations of his enemies, and mortified by 
 the reprimand ordered to be administered by a court-martial ; 
 he, with a baseness almost unparalleled in history, resolved 
 to quench his rage in the ruin of his country. Down the 
 abyss of infamy into which he was about to j)lunge, he 
 gazed without flinching, hurried forward by the single in- 
 tense, burnmg passion for revenge. He had long been in 
 correspondence with Sir Henry Clinton for the delivery of 
 West Point, and the absence of Washington to the east, was 
 thought to be a favorable time to effect his object. 
 
 Major Andre, under the name of Anderson, had been the 
 medium through which the correspondence was carried on^ 
 and be was, therefore, selected to consummate and close the 
 bargain. He proceeded up the river with the intention of 
 having an interview with Arnold, on board the British 
 vessel Vulture. 
 
 But difficulties being thrown in the way of this arrange- 
 ment, he was finally induced to consent to go ashore. After 
 
LIFE OF WASHINGTON. oj7 
 
 midnight, on the morning of the 22d of September, he step- 
 ped into the boat sent by Arnold to receive him, and over 
 the unruffled, placid bosom of the Hudson, glittering with 
 reflected stars, Avas rowed silently and swiftly to the shore. 
 Arnold met him on the bank, and the two retired to a thick 
 wood, and there, amid the darkness and silence, discussed in 
 low tones the treason and the reward. It was Andre's in- 
 tention to retire on board the Vulture, but not being able 
 to conclude the business by daylight, he was persuaded by 
 Arnold to go with him to his quarters at Smith's house. He 
 had been directed by Sir Henry Clinton not to enter our 
 lines or assume any disguise. He, however, now under the 
 change of circumstances, did both, and thus at once became 
 a spy, and exposed to the doom of one. During the da}^, 
 Colonel Livingston opened a sharp fire on the Vulture, which 
 comj)e]led her to drop down the river. Andre listened to 
 the cannonading with visible emotion, but on its cessation 
 resumed his composure. By ten o'clock the arrangement 
 was completed, and Arnold returned in his barge to West 
 Point. Andre passed the .day alone, gloomily. Although 
 he had at great peril consummated an arrangement which 
 would secure a vast advantage to his king, and joromotion 
 and glory to himself, yet he could not but reflect that he 
 was surrounded by enemies, and held concealed about his 
 person the evidences of his character as a spy. He had 
 been supplied by Arnold with two passports, one to the ship 
 and another for the land route, should he be compelled to 
 take the latter. Smith, who had brought him ashore, re- 
 mained with him to take him back. Late in the afternoon, 
 however, Andre ascertained, to his dismay, that Smith would 
 not row him aboard the Vulture. He stubbornly resisted 
 all appeals, and Andre was compelled to choose the land, 
 route. Accompanied by Smith and a negro boy he set out 
 soon after sunset for King's Ferry. As thc}^ passed leisurely 
 alotig the country, Smith would often stop to converse with 
 
358 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 
 
 acquaintances by the way, but Andre, taciturn and gloomy, 
 kept slowly on. The hostile tone of the conversation, and 
 the many eager inquiries put to Smith, naturally kept liira 
 in a state of intense anxiety. About nine o'clock they were 
 hailed by the sentinel of a patrolling party commanded b}'" 
 Captain Boyd. The latter was unusually pressing in his 
 inquiries of Smith, and urged him with great imj^ortunity 
 to stay over night. The latter declining, Boyd requested to 
 see his passport. This was too positive and peremptory to 
 be disobeyed, but the captain still pressed his inquiries and 
 entreaties to stay over night. He at length so worked upon 
 Smith's fears, by representing the dangers in advance, that 
 the latter concluded to stop, and, notwithstanding Andre's 
 expostulations, remained all night near the patrol. The 
 two occupied the same bed, but it was a long and restless 
 night to the British officer. Across the bright prospect 
 which the successful issue of his expedition spread out be- 
 fore him, would sweep the black clouds of anxiety and fear. 
 In the morning they proceeded on their journey, and at 
 length, having got be3'ond the reach of the patrolling party, 
 and, as Andre thought, beyond all imminent danger, his 
 naturally joyous spirit resumed its wonted cheerfulness, and 
 his companion saw with amazement the sudden change from 
 taciturnity and desjDondency to unusual hilarity and jDleasant 
 conversation. Poetry, art, and literature, one after another, 
 became the theme of discourse, and he already seemed to 
 see the end of the war and the reduction of the colonies, to 
 the consummation of which his sagacity and 2^ersonal daring 
 would so largely have contributed. Near Pine's Bridge, 
 Smith parted with him and returned to Peekskill. Andre 
 kept on alone till within a half mile of Tarrytown, when he 
 was suddenly stopped by three men, lying in wait for sus- 
 picious persons and cattle going toward New York. Andre 
 inquired to which party they belonged, and understanding, 
 from their answer that they were adherents of the English, 
 
LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 359 
 
 immediately announced himself as a British officer. In a 
 moment he saw his mistake, and pulled out his j^-issport. 
 This would have been sufficient but for the fatal confession 
 that he had already made. The men then took him into 
 the bushes and began to examine him. They stripped off his 
 clothes, but could discover nothing. At length, in drawing 
 off his stockings, they detected the jiapers containing the 
 drawings of West Point, together with a full and accurate 
 description of every part of the entire works, and estimates 
 of the forces ; also a plan of the future campaign which had 
 been sent to Arnold by AVashington a few days before. 
 Andre then offered heavy rewards if they would let him go ; 
 but, true to their country, these three patriots refused the 
 bribe, and took him to Col. Jameson, commanding at North 
 Castle.* This officer, bewildered and almost bereft of his 
 senses, or else possessed of stupidity that rendered him unfit 
 to command, resolved, with all this damning proof before 
 him, to send Andre to Arnold. Major Talmadge, second in 
 command, was absent when Andre was brought in, and did 
 not return till evening. When Jameson told him what had 
 
 * Much has been said respecting the character of these three men— John Pauld- 
 ing, David WiUiams, and Isaac Van Wart — many maintaining that they were nothing 
 but common plunderers, and were governed solely by the hope of reward in re- 
 taining Andre. I must confess that from the most careful investigation of the mat- 
 ter, Paulding seems to me to have been the only one in whom the thought of a 
 bargain, after the discovery of Andre's true character, never entered. Their occu- 
 pation was, doubtless, very equivocal — but it must be remembered that the times 
 were dreadfully out of joint, and love of country could be strong under circum- 
 stances that at this day seem strange. It showed itself even in Mutiny. The 
 utter want of honesty on the part of government to pay its troops, rendered many 
 of them not very scrupulous about the method of reimbursing themselves. To 
 the curious in such matters I would say, that the following complaint is among 
 General Rufus Putnam's papers, now in possession of Judge Putnam of Ohio : — 
 "Mrs. Hannah Sniffen says, that Gabriel, Joseph, and Abraham Riquard, David 
 Hunt, Isaac Van Wart, and Pardon Burlingham, did, on the night of the 27th ult. 
 take from Mr. James SnifFen, an inhabitant of White Plains, without civil or mili- 
 tary authority, three milch coics, which they have converted to their own private 
 use. HANNAH SNIFFEN, in behalf of her father. 
 
 Crane Pond, July 9th, 1780." 
 
3G0 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 
 
 occurred, he was filled with amazement, and declared openly 
 that Arnold was a traitor, and offered to take on himself the 
 resjDonsibility of acting on that conviction. To this Jameson 
 would not listen. Talmadge then insisted vehemently on 
 bringing the prisoner back. Jameson finally consented to 
 do so, but, in spite of all remonstrance, would send a letter 
 to Arnold, informing him of the arrest of Johij Anderson, 
 (as he was called.) The papers he had already dispatched 
 to meet Washington, now on his return from Hartford. 
 
 The messenger being well mounted overtook the party 
 having charge of the prisoner, and they returned to North 
 Castle. Andre now saw that, in all probability, his fate was 
 sealed. Exposure was unavoidable ; the proofs of his and 
 Arnold's crime he knew were more than ample. The pros- 
 pect grew black as midnight around him, and he was ab- 
 sorbed in gloomy reflections. Pondering solemnly on his 
 condition, he paced up and down his apartment with a slow 
 and measured stride. Talmadge sat watching him, and as 
 he observed the manner in which he turned on his heel, and 
 his military tread, as he jDaced the floor, he was convinced 
 that the indifferently dressed prisoner before him had been 
 bred to the profession of arms. The next morning Andre 
 wrote a letter to Washington, in which he frankly confessed 
 his name and rank, and the manner in which he came within 
 the American lines. Previous to sending it he showed it to 
 Talmadge, who was confounded at the startling develop- 
 ments it contained. 
 
 The papers sent to Washington missed him, as he did not 
 return by the road he went, but took the northern route to 
 Fishkill, where, Sept. 24, he arrived late in the afternoon, 
 the very day after Andre's capture. Stopping here only a 
 short time, he pushed on for Arnold's head-quarters, eighteen 
 miles distant. He had gone, howevej' but a mile or two, 
 before he met the French minister, Chevalier Luzerne, on 
 his way to Newport, to visit Rochambeau. The latter pre- 
 
ABANDONING THE VKSSILS AT CLOUC ESTER. 
 
LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 363 
 
 vailed on him to return to Fislikill for the night, as he had 
 matters of importance to commmiicate. i 
 
 The next morning Washington was early in the saddle, 
 having sent word beforehand to Arnold that he would break- 
 fast with him. It was a bright autumnal morning, and the 
 whole party in high spirits pushed rapidly forward through 
 the gorges of the Highlands. As they came opposite West 
 Point, Washington, instead of continuing on to Arnold's 
 quarters, which were on the same side, turned his horse 
 down a narrow road toward the river. Lafayette observing 
 it, exclaimed " General, you are going in the wrong direc- 
 tion ; you know Mrs. Arnold is waiting breakfast for us, 
 and that road will take us out ofour way." " Ah !" replied 
 Washington, laughingly, " I know you young men are all 
 in love with Mrs. Arnold, and wish to get where she is as 
 soon as possible. You may go and take breakfast with her, 
 and tell her not to wait for me. I must ride down and ex- 
 amine the redoubts on this side of the river, and will be 
 there in a short time." The officers preferring not to f)ro 
 ceed without him, two aids were dispatched to tell Arnold 
 not to wait breakfast. The latter, therefore, with his flimily 
 and the two aids sat down to the table. While they were 
 conversing on indifferent toj)ics, a messenger entered and 
 handed a letter to Arnold, who opened and read it in pre- 
 sence of the company. It was the one from Jameson, an- 
 nouncing the capture of Andre. Although the thunderbolt 
 fell sadden and unexjDectedly at his feet, it did not startle 
 him from his self-command. Merely remarking that his 
 presence at West Point was necessary, he requested the aids 
 to say to Washington on his arrival that he was unexjDect- 
 edly called over the river, and would be back soon. Repair- 
 ing to his wife's chamber, he sent for her at the breakfast- 
 table, and told her he must instantly leave her and his 
 country forever, for death was his certain doom if he did 
 not reach the enemy before he was detected. Paralyzed 
 
364 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 
 
 by the sudden blow, she fell senseless at his feet. Not 
 daring to call for help, Arnold left her in that state, and 
 rapidly descending to the door, mounted one of the horses 
 belonging to Washington's aids, and taking a byway pushed 
 for the river, where his barge was moored. Jumping in he 
 ordered his six oarsmen to pull for Teller's Point. Stimu- 
 lating them to greater efforts by the promise of two gallons 
 of rum, he swept rapidly past Verplanck's Point, and as he 
 aiDj^roached the Vulture waved a white handkerchief, and 
 was soon safe on board. In the meantime Washington hav- 
 ing finished his survey, rode on to Arnold's house. Taking 
 a hasty breakfast, he said he Avould not wait for Arnold to 
 return, but cross over to West Point and meet him there. 
 As the boat swept over the water, he remarked, " Well, 
 gentlemen, I am glad on the whole that General Arnold has 
 gone before us, for we shall now have a salute, and the roar- 
 ing of the cannon will have a fine effect among these moun- 
 tains." At this moment an officer was seen coming down 
 the rocky hill-side, to meet the barge. It was Colonel 
 Lamb, who looked confounded on seeing the commander- 
 in-chief. He commenced an apology, declaring that he was 
 wholly ignorant of his Excellency's intention to visit West 
 Point. *' How is this, sir," broke in Washington, " is not 
 General Arnold here ?" " No, sir," replied the colonel, 
 " he has not been here these tAvo days, nor have I heard 
 from him in that time." " This is extraordinarj^," replied 
 Washington, " he left word that he had crossed the river. 
 However, our visit must not be in vain. Since we have 
 come we must look around and see in what state things 
 are with you." After passing through the garrison and 
 inspecting the various redoubts he returned to the land- 
 ing place and recrossed to Arnold's house. As the boat 
 touched the opposite shore, Hamilton, who had remained 
 behind, was seen coming rapidly down to the shore. Ap- 
 proaching Washington, he spoke in a low and anxious 
 
LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 305 
 
 tone, when tlie two immediately hastened to the house. 
 Here Hamilton gave him the papers found on Andre, to- 
 gether with the letter of the latter to Washington. Had 
 an earthquake suddenly opened at the feet of the com- 
 mander-in-chief he could not have been more astounded. 
 Himself, the army, West Point, and all, were standing above 
 a mine that might explode at any moment. How far did 
 this treason extend ? Whom did it embrace ? When was 
 the hour of its consummation ? were questions that came 
 home, like the stroke of a serpent's fang, to his heart. 
 Ordering Hamilton to mount a horse and ride as for life to 
 Verplanck's Point, and stop Arnold, if possible, he called in 
 Lafayette and Knox and told them what had occurred, 
 merely remarking at the close, " Whom can we trust now ?" 
 His countenance was calm as ever, and being informed that 
 Arnold's wife was in a state bordering on insanity, he went 
 up to her room to soothe her. " In her frenzy" she wp- 
 braided him with being in a plot to murder her child. " One 
 moment she raved, another she melted into tears. Some- 
 times she pressed her infant to her bosom and lamented its 
 fate, occasioned by the imprudence of its father, in a man- 
 ner that would have pierced insensibility itself"* It was 
 four o'clock in the afternoon when these disclosures were 
 made to Washington, and an hour later, dinner being an- 
 nounced, he said, " Come, gentlemen, since Mrs. Arnold is 
 unwell and the general is absent, let us sit down without 
 ceremony." 
 
 No one at the table but Knox and Lafayette knew what 
 had transpired, nor did Washington exhibit any change of 
 demeanor, except that he was more than usually stern in 
 voice and manner. But his mind, oppressed with nameless 
 fears, wandered far away from that dinner- table, and no 
 sooner was the repast over than he addressed himself to the 
 
 • Vide Letter from Hamilton. 
 
3GG LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 
 
 task before him. -He wrote rapidly, and couriers were soon 
 seen galloping in every direction. He announced the trea- 
 son to Colonel Wade, commanding at West Point, in the 
 absence of Colonel Lamb, in the single sentence, '' General 
 Arnold is gone to the enemi/,'' and directed him to put every 
 thing in instant preparation for a night attack. He sent a 
 messenger to Colonel Gray, ordering him to march at once 
 to West Point with his regiment ; a third to General Greene 
 at Tappan, with directions to leave his heavy baggage be- 
 hind, and press swiftly as possible for King's Ferry, where, 
 or on the way, other orders would meet him. To Colonel 
 Livingston, at Verplanck's Point, he sent the laconic letter, 
 " I wish to see you immediately , and request that you will come 
 without delay y To Major Low, at Fishkill, and an officer 
 with a party at Staatsburg, he sent couriers " directing them 
 to march for West Point without delay." He also wrote to 
 Colonel Jameson, to guard Andre closely and send him im- 
 mediately to West Point. The latter messenger arrived at 
 midnight in a pouring rain, and summoned Andre from his 
 bed, to face the pitiless storm. The guard marched the 
 whole dark and dismal night, and arrived at Robinson's 
 house, Arnold's head-quarters, early in the morning. 
 
 Washington having done all he could to arrest the enor- 
 mous evil that threatened to overwhelm him, retired late at 
 night to his bed, fearful that the sound of the enemy's can- 
 non would awake him before daylight. 
 
 Not knowing how many officers might have been cor- 
 rupted by Arnold, and finding a major-general's name men- 
 tioned in the papers taken from Andre, he next morning 
 sent Major Lee with his dragoons to hover near New York, 
 and obtain all the information in his power from the secret 
 agents that he always kept in the city, and who advised him 
 of every movement of the enemy. These spies were un- 
 acquainted with each other, and their communications came 
 through different channels, so that by comparing the several 
 
LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 367 
 
 accounts Washington at a^ny time was able to come to pretty 
 accurate conclusions respecting any project of Sir Henry 
 Clinton. They usually wrote with an invisible inlv which 
 a jDarticular chemical fluid alone could bring out. A few 
 lines on an indifferent subject would be written in common 
 ink and the rest of the letter filled up with important news. 
 Through these spies Washington soon ascertained that 
 Arnold was alone in his treason.* 
 
 A court-martial was now called to judge Andre, and he 
 was condemned as a spy. When Sir Henry Clinton heard 
 of it, he put forth every effort to avert the dreadful fate of 
 his officer. He sent three commissioners to reason and re- 
 monstrate with *the officers of the court. He appealed to 
 Washington, while Arnold wrote him a threatening letter, 
 declaring if Andre was hung he would revenge his death 
 on every American prisoner that fell into his hands. 
 
 Washington, though his heart was filled with the keenest 
 sorrow for the fate of one so universally beloved, and pos- 
 sessed of such noble qualities of heart and mind refused to 
 arrest the course of justice. As in all cases where great 
 trouble came upon him, so in this, he said but little, but 
 silently and sternly wrestled with it alone. The vastness 
 of the plot, and the rank of those -engaged in it, only ren- 
 dered the example still more imperative — besides, stern 
 justice to the nation required it. Just after the battle of 
 Long Island, Captain Nathan Hale, a graduate of Yale Col- 
 lege, a young man of rare purity and elevation of character, 
 went over to Brooklyn, at the request of Washington, to 
 ascertain the plans and movements of the enemy, and just 
 as he was passing the outposts on his return, was taken, 
 tried, and hung as a spy. His nobleness of heart did not 
 shield him even from the brutality of his enemies. Washing- 
 ton, therefore, in looking at the matter from every jDoint of 
 
 * Vide Sparks' Life of Washington. 
 
368 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 
 
 view, could see no way of sparingj\.ndre except by exchang- 
 ing him for Arnold. Although he did not make this formal 
 proposition, he caused Clinton to be made aware of his views. 
 The latter, however, could not give up the traitor, richly as 
 he merited death, and justice had to take its course. When 
 Andre found that all hope was at an end, he addressed the 
 following letter to Washington, which doubtless shook his 
 resolution more, and inflicted a keener pang than all which 
 had gone before. 
 
 " Tappan, Oct, 1st, 1780. 
 " Sir, — Buoyed above the terror of death by the con- 
 sciousness of a hfe devoted to honorable pursuits, and stained 
 with no action that can give me remorse, I trust that the 
 request I make to your excellency at this serious period, and 
 which is to soften my last moments, will not be rejected. 
 Sympathy toward a soldier will surely induce your excel- 
 lency and a military tribunal to adapt the mode of my 
 death to tlie feelings of a man of honor. Let me hope, sir, 
 that if au;;ht in my character impresses you with esteem 
 toward me, if aught in my misfortunes marks me as the 
 victim of policy and not of resentment, I shall experience 
 the operation of those feelings in your breast by being in- 
 formed that I am not to die on a gibbet." 
 
 He waited anxiously but in vain for an answer. Still he 
 could not believe his request would be denied, and never 
 ceased to hope till the scaffold rose before his vision. It 
 required a severe struggle on the part of Washington to re- 
 fuse this touching request. The soul of honor himself, and 
 keenly alive to the feelings of an officer and a gentlemen, 
 he felt in his own bosom how great the boon asked by 
 Andre was ; but the sense of duty to his country forbade the 
 granting of it. It was necessary to have it understood that 
 nothing could avert the fixte or death of shame of a con- 
 victed spy, and on the 2d of October, with the courage and 
 
LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 3G9 
 
 composure of a truly heroic man, Andre expiated his crime 
 on the scaffold. 
 
 In the meantime the prospects of the colonies in the 
 South assumed a still more gloomy aspect. Cornwallis was 
 sweeping the Carolinas with his troops, while a strong ex- 
 pedition was being fitted out to overrun Virginia. The 
 complicated and disheartening state of things, however, pro- 
 duced one happy effect — it imparted some humility to Con- 
 gress, so that it was glad to turn to Washington for help. 
 Gates, its favorite general, whom it had sent South, Avas now 
 completely disgraced, and it was compelled at this late day 
 to request the commander-in-chief to apjwint a successor. 
 He selected Greene, who soon showed the wisdom of the 
 choice, and commenced that career which covered him and 
 his tattered army with glory. Congress also passed the 
 measures which Washington for years had urged in vain — 
 established the half-pay sj'stem, and decreed that all future 
 enlistments should be for the war. 
 
 The summer having passed in comparative idleness, 
 Washington resolved, if possible, to strike a blow before 
 winter set in. This was no less than a combined attack on 
 New York. The position of the enemy was thoroughly 
 reconnoitered — boats were kept mounted on wheels — and 
 the whole plan of attack fully developed. Washington had 
 spent a whole campaign in maturing this scheme, which 
 promised the most brilliant success. Every thing was 
 nearly ready for the attempt, when several British vessels 
 of war entered the river and put a stoj) to the preparations. 
 Not long after, the army went into winter-quarters near 
 Morristown, at Pompton, and in the Highlands, and nothing 
 further was done. Washington established his head-quarters 
 at New Windsor, which looked directly down on West Point 
 
 As cold weather came on the troops began to suffer 
 severely for want of clothing and stores, and to save and 
 feed a portion of them he was compelled to- send back the 
 
 20 
 
370 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 
 
 new levies. He had predicted this state of things in the 
 latter part of Noveraher, in a letter to General Sullivan, a 
 member of Congress at the time. After discussing the sub- 
 ject at length, he says — 
 
 " Another question may here arise. Where are the means? 
 Means must be found or the soldiers must go naked. But 
 I will take the liberty in this place to give it as my opinion 
 that a foreign loan is indispensably necessary to the con- 
 tinuance of the war. Congress will deceive themselves if 
 they imagine that the army, or a state, that is the theatre 
 of war, can rub through a second campaign as the last. It 
 Avould be as unreasonable as to suppose that because a man 
 had rolled a snow-ball till it had acquired the size of a horse, 
 he might do so till it was as large as a house. Matters may 
 be pushed to a certain point, beyond which we cannot move 
 them." 
 
 Greene wrote from the South that his troops were " lite- 
 rally naked" — and 'they did m.arch naked by hundreds into 
 battle, presenting an exhibition of patriotism and valor 
 never before surpassed in the annals of war. Not only was 
 clothing withheld, but the pay of the troops also, and the 
 •evils which Congress could not anticipate, though constantly 
 thundered in their ears by Washington, now began to fall 
 ■on the army. On the 1st of January, 1781, a mutiny broke 
 out in the Pennsylvania line, stationed at Morristo\vn, and 
 thirteen hundred men drew up on parade preparatory to a 
 march on Philadelphia, to force Congress at the point of the 
 bayonet to give them redress. The officers rushed among 
 them, and unable by commands to restore obedience resorted 
 to force. The mutineers fired in turn, killing one officer 
 and mortally wounding another, and for two hours there 
 was an indescribable scene of horror and confusion. At 
 length the mutineers got in marching order, and scouring 
 the grand parade with four pieces of cannon, marched off. 
 The inhabitants hred alarm-guns on the route to Elizabeth- 
 
LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 371 
 
 town, and beacon-fires blazed on the heights, announcing 
 some great and imminent peril. Sir Henry Clinton hearing 
 of the revolt, sent commissioners to them, offering them 
 high rewards to join* the British service. They rejected 
 with scorn the inflimous propositions, saying, " What ! does 
 he take us for Arnolds ?" and immediately sent these propo- 
 sals in an envelop to Wayne, declaring, that if the enemy 
 made any hostile demonstration they would march at once 
 against him. The emissaries were seized and given up, and 
 afterward tried by court-martial and shot. Congress, which 
 could turn a deaf ear to the counsels and prophetic appeals 
 of Washington, was now thoroughly alarmed. Although it 
 had stubbornly resisted his advice, resolutions would not 
 put down bayonets, and a committee was appointed to con- 
 fer with the mutineers. They met at Trenton, and the 
 claims of the latter to their pay and to be discharged at the 
 end of three years, instead of at the close of the war, being 
 granted, nearly the whole line disbanded for the winter. 
 Washington clearly foresaw that this success of the revolters 
 would stimulate other portions of the army to a similar 
 attempt. The result would be the self-destruction of the 
 entire army, and he resolved that a second mutiny should 
 be put down by the strong arm of force, whatever might 
 be the loss of life that accompanied it. He therefore ordered 
 a thousand men, who could be trusted, to be picked from 
 the different regiments in the Highlands, with four days' 
 provision constantly on hand, and ready to march on a mo 
 ment's notice. His anticipations proved true, for encouraged 
 by the success of the Pennsylvania troops, those of New 
 Jersey, stationed at Pompton and Chatham, revolted also — 
 determined to march to Trenton, where Congress was then 
 flitting, and demand their rights by force of arms. Wash- 
 ington immediately dispatched six hundred men, under 
 Howe, with orders to march rapidly and secretly to the camp 
 of the mutineers The snow was deep and the cold intense. 
 
372 LIFE OF WASHINGTO^N". 
 
 but this band of resolate men pushed swiftly forward, 
 bivouacking where night overtook them, and on the fourth 
 day arrived near the camp of the revolted troops, Jan. 27th, 
 1781. Halting till midnight, Howe resumed his march, 
 and taking positions, and planting his artillery so as to com- 
 mand every approach, he waited for daylight to appear. 
 When light broke over the encampment, the mutineers to 
 their amazement saw ranks of armed men on every side, 
 and cannon sweeping the entire field. Howe ordered them 
 to parade at once, and without arms, in front of their hutsy 
 saying that he would allow but five minutes in which to do 
 it. " What," said they, "and no conditions?" 
 
 " No conditions !" was the stern response. 
 
 " Then, if we are to die, we might as well die where we 
 are as any where else." 
 
 The regiment of Colonel Sprout was immediately ordered 
 to advance, when the promise of submission was reluctantly 
 given. They then paraded without arms and gave up three 
 of the ringleaders, who were tried and condemned on the 
 spot. Two were shot, twelve of their own companions 
 being compelled to act as executioners. The report of those 
 twelve muskets, and the lifeless bodies of their leaders 
 stretched on the snow, carried consternation into the hearts 
 of the others, and they made concessions to their officers, 
 and promised obedience in future. The blow had been sud- 
 den and terrible, and needed no repetition. Washington 
 and Congress were not unlike only in preventing evil, but 
 in arresting and curing it. But just, as well as severe, the 
 former immediately appointed commissioners to inquire into 
 the grievances of the soldiers, which he knew were not 
 imaginary, and have them redressed. This one example 
 was sufficient, and the whisper of revolt was heard no more 
 in the army. 
 
 While these painful events were transpiring, Laurens, 
 "who had been appointed by Congress a commissioner 
 
LIFE OF WASHINGTON. oiO 
 
 to visit France, to negotiate a loan of money and obtain 
 supplies, was in communication with Washington to receive 
 the advice and instructions which Congress had appointed 
 the latter to give him. 
 
 The jealousies of the different States, and the fear of Con- 
 gress to assert its authority, and command troops to be raised, 
 taxes levied, and clothing supplied, kept the army in a piti- 
 able condition. The resolutions it had passed, in accordance 
 with Washington's views, were all well in their way, but 
 worthless unless enforced. Right in the face of its decrees 
 that troops should be enlisted for the war, the States con- 
 tinued on the old system of engaging them only for a spe- 
 cified time. The bugbear of dictatorial power which they 
 feared that Washington, with an army entirely under his 
 control, might assume, wore a more horrid aspect than the 
 evils under which the nation suffered, and while they allowed 
 Congress to make alliances, vote away the money of the 
 nation, and do all other acts of the highest executive 
 authority, it must not draft soldiers and lay personal taxes, 
 lest it should infringe individual libertj^ 
 
 During the winter, Clinton planned an expedition South, 
 composed of fifteen hundred men, and placed it under 
 Arnold, who was directed to ascend the Chesapeake and 
 reduce the country. The traitor, zealous for his new mas- 
 ter, passed up the James River to Richmond, which he 
 burned to the ground, and by his depredations seemed de- 
 termined to carry out the threat he had made to Washing- 
 ton, if he should allow Andre to be executed. Washington 
 dispatched forces to the South to meet this new inroad, and 
 was exceedingly anxious that a portion of the French fleet 
 should cooperate with them, and blockade Arnold in James 
 River. Such a movement, he was confident, would secure 
 the destruction of the corps. But the fleet was blockaded 
 m Newport by the British, and could not with safety put 
 to sea. In the middle of January, however, a severe storm 
 
3TC LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 
 
 swept the eastern coast, and when it broke, a British sixty- 
 four was seen off Montauk Point, under jury-masts, the 
 Culloden, a seventy-four, aground on a reef near Gardiner's 
 Island, while the Bedford, another seventy-four, was adrift 
 in the Sound, swept of every spar, and her whole upper tier 
 of guns thrown overboard. Destouches, who had succeeded 
 Chevalier de Ternay, after his death, reconnoitered the 
 shattered fleet for the jDurpose of engaging it, but found it 
 still too strong to be attacked. lie, however, took advan- 
 tage of its scattered condition to send three vessels of war, 
 in accordance with Washington's request, to blockade Ar- 
 nold. These, under M. de Tilly, aiTived in the Chesapeake ; 
 but Arnold, who had been advised of the movement, with- 
 drew his ships so far up the Elizabeth River that the 
 heavier vessels of the French could not reach him. Thus 
 the ex^^edition, which, if it could have sailed sooner, as 
 Washington expected, would have been successful, was ren- 
 dered abortive, and the vessels returned to Newport. 
 
 M. Destouches now resolved, at the earnest recommenda- 
 tion of Washington, to proceed to sea with his whole fleet 
 and sail for the Chesapeake. He departed on the 16th of 
 March, followed by the British admiral with the whole of 
 his fleet. An action took place off the capes of Virginia, 
 which terminated witlK)ut any decisive result, and the 
 Frencli squadron returned to Newport. Previous to this, 
 when Washington was informed of the departure of the 
 three vessels to blockade Arnold, he dispatched Lafayette 
 with twelve hundred men, by land, to cooperate with him 
 and aid Baron Steuben, who with a mere handful of militia 
 had been left to resist the invasion. 
 
 In the meantime, (March 2d,) Washington made a visit 
 to Newport, to consult with Rochambeau on a plan for the 
 summer camimign. He was received with great honor, and 
 after an absence of three weeks returned to head-quarters. 
 The movements of the enemy, howbver, were so uncertain. 
 
LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 377 
 
 that nothing definite could be decided upon except in any 
 case to act in concert. Whatever shape affairs might ulti- 
 mately assume, one thing was evident, the British were 
 directing their attention more exclusively to the South. 
 Notwithstanding the defeat of Tarleton by Morgan, and the 
 consummate generalship exhibited by Greene, Cornwallis 
 had obtained a strong foothold in the Carolinas, and it was 
 clearly the opinion of the latter that the theatre of the war 
 should be transferred in that direction, even if it Avere ne- 
 cessary to abandon New York. Clinton, in consequence, 
 sent off heavy detachments to cooperate with him, and it 
 became evident that the forces accumulating there would 
 soon be able to trample under foot all the opposition that 
 could be offered. Light armed vessels pushed up the various 
 rivers of Virginia, plundering and desolating as they ad- 
 vanced. One ascended the Potomac as far as Mount Vernon, 
 and Lund Washington, the manager of the estate, wishing 
 to save the buildings from conflagration, sent on board and 
 offered the enemy refreshments. Washington when he 
 heard of it expressed his regret, saying, in that lofty j^a- 
 triotism which like the fire never ceased to burn : " I am 
 very sorry to hear of your loss ; I am a little sorry to hear 
 of my own ; but that which gives me most concern is, that 
 you should go on board the enemy's vessels and furnish 
 them with refreshments. It would have been a less painful 
 circumstance to me to have heard, that, in consequence of 
 your non-comj)liance with their request, they had burned 
 my house and laid my plantation in ruins. You ought to 
 have considered yourself as my representative, and should 
 have reflected on the bad examjDle of communicating with 
 the enemy, and making a voluntary offer of refreshments 
 to them with a view to prevent a conflagration." This is 
 not a public letter, designed to meet the public eye, but a 
 private, confidential one, revealing the feelings of a heart in 
 which love of country absorbed every other interest and 
 
378 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 
 
 emotion. It furnished, also, directions for future conduct. 
 It was saying to his manager, rather than ever again hold 
 any intercourse with the enemy, or make any terms with 
 them, let them burn down my dwellings and lay waste my 
 possessions. Indeed, in this very letter he says he expects 
 such a result. "What perfect harmony there is between his 
 secret thoughts and public acts in every thing respecting 
 the welfare of his country. 
 
 With what prospects he was about to enter on the sum- 
 mer campaign may be gathered from the following entry 
 made in his diary on the first of May : " Instead of having 
 magazines filled with provisions, we have a scanty pittance 
 scattered here and there in the different States ; instead of 
 having our arsenals well supplied with military stores, they 
 are poorly provided, and the workmen all leaving them; 
 instead of having the various articles of field equipage in 
 readiness to be delivered, the quarter-master general, as the 
 dernier resort, according to his account, is now applying to 
 the several States to provide those- things for their troops 
 respectively ; instead of having a regular system of trans- 
 portation established upon credit, or funds in the quarter- 
 master's hands to defray the expenses of it, we have neither 
 the one nor the other, and all that business being done by 
 military impress, we are are daily and hourly oppressing 
 the people, souring their tempers, and alienating their affec- 
 tions; instead of having the regiments completed to the 
 new establishment, which ought to have been done agree- 
 ably to the requisitions of Congress, scarce any State in the 
 Union has at this hour an eighth part of its quota in the 
 field, and little prospect that I can see of ever getting more 
 than half; in a word, instead of having everj^ thing in 
 readiness to take the field, we have nothing ; and instead 
 of having a glorious offensive campaign before us, we have 
 a bewildered and gl'oomy defensive one, unless we should 
 receive a powerful aid of ships, land troops, and money, 
 
LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 379 
 
 from our generous allies, and those at present are too con- 
 tingent to build upon."* It required more than a prophet's 
 ken to see light beyond this darkness, more than the spirit 
 of man to breathe on such a chaos to bring or er and form 
 out of it. But, " our generous allies" did fortunately come 
 to our relief. A French frigate, with Count de Barras on 
 board, arrived at Boston, bringing the cheering intelligence 
 that troops and vessels of war were on the way, while a 
 fleet, under Count de Grasse, designed to leave the West 
 Indies for the American coast in July or August. 
 
 About this time Washington wrote to Paul Jones, who 
 had arrived at Philadelphia in February in the Ariel, with 
 stores and clothing, which had long been expected, con- 
 gratulating him on his glorious victory over the Serapis, and 
 the highly complimentary report of the Board of Admiralty, 
 that had been directed to inquire into the cause of the delay. 
 His daring cruise along the coast of England, the conster- 
 nation he had spread throughout the kingdom, and the gal- 
 lant deeds by which he had " made the flag of America re- 
 spected among the flags of other nations," were mentioned 
 with the warmest approbation, and declared worthy of par- 
 ticular reorard from Congress. 
 
 The news of the arrival of fresh troops and additional 
 vessels, and of more soon to be on our coast, spread new 
 life through the American camp, and Washington resolved 
 at once to open a vigorous campaign. The commanders of 
 the allied armies met at Weathersfield, Connecticut, to deter- 
 mine on the best plan to pursue. The French proposed to 
 make a Southern campaign in Virginia, but Washington was 
 of the firm opinion that a combined attack, by sea and land, 
 should be made on New York. To the strong reasons which 
 he gave, the former yielded, and immense preparations were 
 set on foot. In the meantime, Washington watched with 
 
 * Vide Sparks' Letters and Speeches of Washington, vol. viii. page 31. 
 
380 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 
 
 the deepest anxiety the operations of Lafayette and Greene 
 in the South, fondly hopmg that their successes would draw 
 off large reinforcements from the army in New York, and 
 thus materially weaken the garrison. Robert Morris, who 
 had been appointed superintendent of finance, animated with 
 the same spirit of self-devotion as Washington, sent forward 
 voluntarily two thousand barrels of flour to the army, wliich 
 he had purchased on his own credit, promising to follow 
 it with a large sum of money, to be raised in the same 
 way. 
 
 In the meantime orders had been issued to the different 
 sections of the army, and they closed rapidly in upon the 
 Hudson, forming a junction at Peekskill. Washington, on 
 the 2d of July, left his tents standing and his baggage be- 
 hind, and Rapidly descended the river, hoping to take the 
 enemy's garrison at Kingsbridge, and posts in the vicinity 
 by surprise. The night before, Lincoln, with a strong de- 
 tachment, passed down the stream with muffled oars, and 
 landing a mile below Yonkers, pushed rapidly and silently 
 over the hills in the darkness, unobserved by the British 
 light-horse, and before daylight drew up near Kingsbridge. 
 But the enemy's pickets, hearing the tread of the advancing 
 columns, and beholding through the gloom the advance par- 
 ties, opened a brisk fire. Washington, who had marched 
 with the main army all night, was already on the slope of 
 Valentine's Hill, when the sharp rattle of musketry was 
 borne by on the night air. The order to march was in- 
 stantly given, and the troops hastened forward to the sup- 
 port of Lincoln. The enemy retired behind their works, 
 and De Lancey, stationed on Harlem River, also aroused by 
 the firing, hastily retreated before the Duke de Lauzun, ap- 
 proaching by way of Hartford, could cut him off. Baffled 
 in this attempt, Washington withdrew, and on the 4th of 
 July, pitched his camp near Dobbs' Ferry. Two days after, 
 the heads of the French columns appeared in view, with 
 
LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 381 
 
 drums beating and colors flying, and were received with en- 
 thusiasm by the whole army. 
 
 Rochambeau had rapidly marched them from Newj^ort, 
 in four divisions, by way of Hartford ; one regiment, that 
 of Saintonge, never halting for a single day's rest the entire 
 distance. As Washington's army lay in two lines, resting 
 on tlie Hudson, the French took position on the left, ex- 
 tending in a single line to the Bronx. As the national 
 colors of the two armies swayed away in the breeze, joy 
 and enthusiasm animated every heart, and a glorious issue 
 to the summer campaign was confidently expected. 
 
 But just in proportion as foreign aid was received, the 
 colonies, especially those of New England, New York, Penn- 
 sylvania, and New Jersey, grew more listless, and the re- 
 cruits came in slowly. 
 
 The mission of Laurens had been partially successful. 
 France promised six millions of livres, and the king had 
 pledged himself to negotiate a loan for the United States 
 for ten millions, so that at the close of the year he would 
 have furnished in all twenty-five millions. 
 
 The two armies remained inactive in their encampment 
 for a fortnight, but Washington kept in constant communi- 
 cation with the Southern armies through a chain of ex- 
 jDresses. On the 18th, he, and three French generals, crossed 
 the river at Dobbs' Ferry, and escorted by a hundred and 
 fifty men, ascended the hills that terminate the Pallisades, 
 and spent the entire day in surveying through their glasses 
 the portion of the enemy on the northern part of the island. 
 Three days after, with five thousand men, he advanced to 
 reconnoitre the works at Kingsbridge and cut off such of 
 Delancey's light troops as might be found without the lines. 
 The next day the army displayed on the heights opposite 
 the enemy. The latter was wholly unaware of their ap- 
 proach till their sudden apparition on the neighboring hills 
 announced it. Washington and Bochambeau then took with 
 
382 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 
 
 them the engineers and reconnoitred the enemy's works. 
 They afterward went over to Throg's Neck and measured 
 the distance across to Long Island. The enemy discovered 
 the i^arty and leveled some cannon shot at them, which, 
 however, passed harmlessly by. Having finished the recon- 
 noisance, the whole division retired, reaching the camp at 
 midnight. 
 
 It was impossible, of course, while the French fleet at 
 Newport was blockaded, to effect any thing against New 
 York. Washington, therefore, waited with the deepest 
 anxiety the arrival of Count de Grasse. He dispatched to 
 General Forman, at Monmouth, a letter to the Count, writ- 
 ten in Rochambeau's cypher, with directions to keep cease- 
 less watch on the heights, and the moment the fleet hove 
 in sight to proceed on board and deliver it. 
 
 In the meantime afiliirs in the South were assuming a 
 more favorable aspect. Greene had handed Cornwallis over 
 to Lafayette, and this gallant young commander,* on the 
 very day that the French army, under Rochambeau, marched 
 with flying colors into the camp of Washington at Dobbs' 
 Ferry, fought the battle of Green Spring, in which he and 
 Wayne showed themselves worthy of each other and the 
 trust committed to them. The next night Cornwallis, re- 
 treating before ''the hoy^^ whom he contemptuously declared 
 could not " escape'^ him, passed James' river and afterward 
 proceeded to Portsmouth. Here he received orders to take 
 a position on the Chesapeake which could serve as the basis 
 of future operations. Selecting Yorktown as the most se- 
 cure and favorable, he moved his forces thither and began 
 
 ♦This noble stranger, when he arrived in Baltimore, found the troops badly 
 clothed, discontented, and averse to returning South. Immediately borrowing ten 
 thousand dollars on his own credit, he expended them in shirts, shoes, etc., for the 
 soldiers, which so touched their hearts, that their munnurings and complaints 
 gave place to enthusiasm and love, and they closed around him like veterans. 
 
LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 383 
 
 to entrench himself. By the 23(1 of August his army was 
 concentrated and well secured. 
 
 The constant success of his favorite and friend, gratified 
 Washington exceedingly, who was afraid, in case of any dis- 
 aster, that he would be blamed for putting so young and 
 inexperienced a commander into the field against one of the 
 best tacticians and most accomplished generals of the age. 
 
 While Cornwallis was employed in erecting fortifications 
 ("Aug. 14th,) Washington received a letter from Count de 
 Grasse, in St. Domingo, stating that he was about to .^.lU 
 with his entire fleet, and some three thousand troops, for 
 the Chesapeake, but could not remain later than the middle 
 of October. 
 
 After a brief consultation with Hochambeau, it was de- 
 cided to be very doubtful whether New York could be re- 
 duced within that period, and that Virginia furnished the 
 only field promising immediate success. They resolved 
 therefore to march thither without delay. Every effort, 
 liowever, was made to deceive Sir Henry Clinton respecting 
 the change of plan. Boats were gathered in the neighbor- 
 hood of New York — ovens built and forage collected, as if 
 in joreparation for a thorough investment of the city — false 
 communications, sent for the purpose of falling into the 
 hands of the enemy, corroborated this external evidence, 
 and Clinton had no doubt that he was to be the object of 
 attack. Washington took great pains to deceive his own 
 troops also, knowing, as he said, " where the imposition 
 does not completely take place at home it would never suf- 
 ficiently succeed abroad." He informed Barras at Newport 
 of his intentions, and requested him to sail immediately for 
 the Chesapeake, but the latter had an enterprise of his own 
 on foot against Newfoundland, besides, being senior in rank 
 to the Count de Grasse, he did not wish to serve under him. 
 At the earnest remonstrance, however, of both Washington 
 and Rochambeau, he at last consented to go, though grum- 
 
384 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 
 
 lingly, saying it was the last expedition he would ever 
 undertake. 
 
 Every thing being ready, the combined armies struck 
 their camps and turned the heads of their columns south- 
 ivard. Twenty regiments, under Heath, were left to guard 
 the Highlands. The American army crossed the Hudson on 
 the 21st — the French commenced next day, completing the 
 passage on the 25th. They proceeded by different routes 
 to Trenton, where they formed a junction and moved rapidly 
 southward, Washington and Ilochambeau here left the 
 armies and rode on to Philadelphia, to provide vessels in 
 which to transport the troops from Trenton to the head of 
 the Elk. The city received the commander-in-chief with 
 acclamations, and as he passed slowly through the streets 
 the enthusiasm broke over all bounds, and the clamor of the 
 multitude drowned even the clang of bells and thunder of 
 artillery. 
 
 But only boats enough could be procured to carry a single 
 regiment, and the main army, under Lincoln, continued its 
 march by land. Passing through Philadelphia it was fol- 
 lowed by almost the entire population, who hailed them 
 with exultant shouts and invoked blessings on their heads. 
 Heavy rains came on, and through the wet and mire the 
 weary suffering troops were kept to the top of their endur- 
 ance. The French, well clad and well fed, suffered but 
 little, while the destitute Americans presented a most piti- 
 able spectacle. 
 
 Washington had written to Lafayette announcing his de- 
 parture, and requesting him to watch Cornwallis narrowly 
 and not let him escape into the Carolinas. But the 2d of 
 September arriving without hearing any thing from Count 
 de Grasse, who was to have sailed on the 3d of August, or 
 from Barras, who had notified him he should leave Newport 
 on the 23d, Washington was " distressed heyond measure.'' 
 The English fleet might occupy the Chesapeake first, and 
 
,^'>^^ '^v 
 
 
 
LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 387 
 
 then the whole plan would fall through, while if even Bar- 
 ras, who had much of the heavy siege artillery on board, 
 was taken, the entire aspect of affairs might be changed. 
 But three days after, the joyful intelligence was received of 
 the safe arrival of the French admiral with twenty-six ships 
 of the line and several frigates. The army was electrified, 
 while the French officers were almost delirious with joy. 
 The prospect now brightened, and the threads of fiite were 
 evidently weaving a net for Cornwallis. 
 
 The two armies had passed the Delaware before Clinton 
 was aware of their destination. He then dispatched Arnold 
 to make an irruption into Connecticut, and threatened an 
 invasion of New Jersey and an attack on the Highlands to 
 induce Washington to halt. But the latter could not be 
 turned aside from the great object on which he had set his 
 heart, and pressed resolutely and swiftly toward its accom- 
 plishment. 
 
 Cornwallis saw with alarm this sudden and tremendous 
 combination designed to crush him, and gazed anxiously 
 around for an avenue of escape. If he had been left to his 
 own resources he probably would have made a desperate 
 attempt to cleave his way through the defenses of Lafayette 
 and escape to the Carolinas. From his known energy and 
 skill thje success of such an effort might not have been so 
 hopeless, but he received a dispatch from Sir Henry Clinton 
 promising reinforcements both of troops and ships. Thus, 
 the second time, did this commander lull into fatal security 
 one of his lieutenants, and first in the case of Burgoyne, 
 and now in that of Cornwallis, make certain an impending 
 calamity. 
 
 While the two armies were pressing southward Washing- 
 ton turned aside, and, for the first time in six years, visited 
 his home at Mount Vernon. 
 
 In the meantime Count de Grasse was told that the British 
 fleet, under Admiral Graves, who had been reinforced from 
 
388 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 
 
 the West Indies, was in pursuit of him off the Chesapeake " 
 He immediately put to sea and offered battle. An engage 
 ment followed, but without any decisive result. The next 
 day the English admiral, who had the weather-guage, de- 
 clining to renew the action, De Grasse put back into the 
 Chesapeake, where to his great joy he found Barras safely 
 arrived. 
 
 Washington, as soon as Rochambeau joined him, conti- 
 nued his journey, and on arriving at Williamsburg heard of 
 the return of the French fleet and the junction of De Bar- 
 ras with it. Every thing now rested on the dispatch of the 
 troops, and Washington's energies were roused to the* 
 utmost. A single day's delay might ruin a great enterprise 
 and defer indefinitely the independence of his country. He 
 wanted an army that could fly, and wrote to General Lin- 
 coln to hurry forward the '■'■ troo])s on the wings of speed. ^^ 
 '^ Every day we now lose," said he, "is comparatively an age," 
 He sent a messenger to the Count de Grasse for boats to trans- 
 port the troops by water from Annapolis and the head of 
 the Elk, but the French admiral had anticipated his wants, 
 and he soon had the satisfaction of seeing the fleet of trans- 
 ports move away to the scene of operations. He then 
 requested an interview with De Grasse. Accompanied by 
 Kochambeau, Knox, De Chastellux and Du Portail^ he em- 
 barked in a small vessel and was received by the admiral 
 with distinguished honors. The plan of attack was soon 
 arranged, and Washington returned to land. In the mean- 
 time Admiral Digby arrived at Sandy Hook with a reinforce- 
 ment of vessels. De Grasse was no sooner informed of this 
 than he resolved to put to sea and give the enemy battle. 
 When this astounding intelligence was communicated to 
 Washington he could not conceal his anxiety. He immedi- 
 ately wrote a letter to the count, which he dispatched by 
 Lafayette, who he knew would second its contents with all 
 the influence he possessed. In it he de^^icted in the strong- 
 
LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 389 
 
 est language the fatal consequences that would follow such 
 an abandonment of the land forces, declaring that it might 
 result in no less a calamity than the total disbanding of the 
 army. At all events, if he was afraid to be attacked in a 
 stationary position, he must at least cruise in sight of the 
 capes. But the true reason with De Grasse was, not that 
 he feared to be attacked at anchor — he wished to perform a 
 brilliant action in which the glory would belong to himself 
 alone — in short, to capture or disperse the entire English 
 fleet, and thus secure, by one grand coup, the overthrow of 
 both the British armies, and put an end to the war. But 
 for fear of the consequences that might result from disre- 
 garding the firm remonstrance of both Washington and the 
 French commanders, there is but little doubt that he would 
 have insisted on executing his brilliant project, and thus 
 overthrown the whole camj)aign, and put far off the day of 
 peace. He, however, consented to remain ; though, it is 
 said, that Washington, afraid to trust to his steadiness of 
 purpose, sent Hamilton to him during the siege, who, 
 passing in an open boat by night, had an interview with 
 him to strengthen his determination. 
 
 Cornwallis at this time was at the head of more than 
 7000 troops, which were concentrated mostly in Yorktown, 
 containing at that time about sixty houses. A few occupied 
 Gloucester, on the opposite side of York river. 
 
 The allied armies, nearly sixteen thousand strong, took 
 up their line of march from Williamsburg on the 28th of 
 September, at 5 o'clock in the morning, and advancing by 
 different routes toward Yorktown, arrived in view of the ene- 
 my's lines at 4 o'clock in the afternoon. Cornwallis watched 
 their approach through his glass with feelings of the most 
 painful anxiety. At the first departure of De Grasse to give 
 Admiral Graves battle, and afterward as the distant cannon- 
 ide of the hostile fleets broke over the sea, hope reanimated 
 lis heart. But now as he saw the French fleet quietly riding 
 
 21 
 
390 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 
 
 at anchor in rear of his works, while this overwhelming 
 force slowly and steadily took up its position in front, his 
 heart sunk within him. Washington, on the other hand, as 
 the declining sunbeams streamed over the long lines of glit- 
 tering bayonets, and polished pieces of the French artillery, 
 as, with strains of martial music, the steady columns one 
 after another deployed on the field, and saw far away the 
 peaks of the French ships of war, tipped with light, felt 
 that the hour of triumph had come, and a glorious victory 
 was in reserve for his country. 
 
 ' The next day the morning reveille beat cheerily through 
 the allied camp, and soon the field presented a brilliant 
 spectacle, as the French on the left and the Americans on 
 the right advanced, and extending in a semicircle entirely 
 round the enemy's works to the river on either side, com- 
 pleted the investment. The British then retired from their 
 advanced works, leaving two redoubis undamaged within 
 cannon shot of their fortifications. The succeeding day the 
 allied troops took possession of the neglected works, the 
 French occupying the two redoubts, while the Americans 
 broke ground for two new ones on the right. In the mean- 
 time the heavy siege guns were hurried forward. On the 
 morning of the 1st of October, the British seeing the re- 
 doubts begun by the Americans, directed their artillery 
 upon them, and a heavy cannonade was kept up all day and 
 night. For three days and nights the deep reverberations 
 of their guns shook the field, and swept far out over the 
 deep, but not a shot replied. The stroke of the spade and 
 pickaxe, as the earth was thrown up to form the redoubts — 
 the confused hum of workmen erecting tents, and shops, 
 and ovens, and unloading baggage and provisions— the 
 heavy rumbling of artillery wagons as the long line of 
 teams stretched over the uneven ground — and the stern or- 
 ders of officers, were the only sounds that rose from the 
 allied armies. In the centre, where they met as they swept 
 
LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 391 
 
 up in a semicircle from tlie river, Rochambeau and Wash- 
 ington stationed themselves, and here, too, was drawn up 
 the artillery. 
 
 By the 6 th of October, every thing was ready to com- 
 mence the approaches, and, as an omen of good, Washing- 
 ton that very day received the cheering intelligence of 
 Greene's victory at Eiitaw Springs. The night came on 
 dark and stormy, and amid the driving rain, unheard in the 
 roar of the blast by the British sentinels, six regiments un- 
 der the command of Lincoln, Clinton, and Wayne, opened 
 the first parallel within five hundred and fifty yards of the 
 British works on the right. The men were pushed vigor- 
 ously all night, and by morning were well covered from the 
 guns of the fortifications. Up to this time the French and 
 Americans had lost in all but one officer and sixteen pri- 
 vates, killed and wounded. The next two days the enemy 
 fired but little, and the parallel was completed. On the 
 afternoon of the 9th, th« French had established one bat- 
 tery of four twelve pounders and six mortars and howitzers, 
 and the Americans another of six, eighteen and twenty-four 
 pounders, and four mortars and howitzers. Washington 
 then rode up an eminence, and through his glass took a long 
 and careful survey of the enemy's works and his own bat- 
 teries. Apparently satisfied he closed his glass, and waved 
 his hand as a signal. The next moment the French battery 
 opened, and two hours after the American blended in its 
 thunder on the right, and the first act of the tragedy com- 
 menced. All night long thunder answered thunder, echoing 
 over land and sea. 
 
 The next day two more French batteries, mounting in all 
 twenty heavy cannon and mortars, and two American, of 
 six guns, making twenty-six pieces, were put in operation. 
 Forty-six guns had now concentrated their destructive fire 
 on the limited works of the British, and it rained a horriblo 
 tempest of shot and shells upon Cornwallis. It was impos- 
 
392 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 
 
 sible to withstand such a tremendous fire, and the enemy 
 were soon compelled to withdraw their guns from the em- 
 brasures behind the merlins — and for the remainder of the 
 day, without firing scarcely a single shot, they sat silent and 
 sullen within their works, and took with calm sternness the 
 terrible pelting. 
 
 As night drew on and darkness slowly settled over the 
 landscape, the scene became terrifically grand. The hea- 
 vens were illuminated with red hot shot and blazing bombs, 
 as they stooped on their fiery track into the doomed gar- 
 rison, while the deep silence out of which the explosions 
 came, added to the solemn terror of the spectacle. These 
 messengers of destruction passed also over the town and 
 dropped amid the shipping beyond, kindling into conflagra- 
 tion four large transports and a forty -four gun ship.* "The 
 ships were enwrapped in a torrent of fire, which spreading 
 with vivid brightness among the combustible rigging, and 
 running with amazing rapidity to the tops of the several 
 masts, while all around was thunder and lightning from our 
 numerous cannon and mortars, and in the darkness of night 
 presented one of the most sublime and magnificent specta- 
 cles which can be imagined. Some of our shells overreach- 
 ing the town were seen to fall into the river, and bursting, 
 threw up columns of water, like the spouting monsters of 
 the deep."! 
 
 The firing continued all the next day, (the 11th) and at 
 night a second parallel was commenced within three hun- 
 dred yards of the enemy's works, and in two days was 
 nearly completed. 
 
 Cornwallis still held two redoubts, M'hich stood in advance 
 of his works on the left, and from which he could enfilade 
 this second parallel. After a brief consultation it was re- 
 solved, therefore, to storm them. To incite the rivalry of 
 
 * The Obtron. t Vid« Thatcher'i Mait*i7 Journal. 
 
LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 393 
 
 the troops, the storming of one was intrusted to the French, 
 under Baron de Viomenil, and the other to the Americans, 
 under Lafiiyette. The French baron, while preparing for 
 the assault, hinted to Lafayette that he was rather unfortu- 
 nate in his command, as the American troops were not so 
 reliable as French in work of this kind. Lafayette, who 
 had come to look on the Americans as peculiarly belonging 
 to him, was stung by the remark, but quietly replied, " we 
 shall see." Toward evening the storming columns were 
 drawn up and marched to their respective positions. Two 
 shells were to be the signal to advance. The shell from the 
 American battery rose first, but it had scarcely reached the 
 zenith in its blazing track, before, in another direction, that 
 of the French mounted the heavens. The next moment 
 the loud shout " forward" rang along the ranks. Colonel 
 Hamilton led the van of the Americans, and carried away 
 by his boiling courage, strode in advance of his men, and 
 scorning to wait till the abatis was removed, mounted over 
 it, and on the parapet beyond, with but three men at his 
 side. Waving his sword to his brave followers crowding 
 fiercely after him, with leveled bayonets, he shouted ''On! 
 on .'" and leaped into the ditch. A thrilling " huzza /" re- 
 plied, and soon the enemy were flying in every direction. 
 Not a shot had been fired — the cold steel had finished the 
 work, and in nine minutes' time. As the loud and ringing 
 cheer rose on the evening air, the delighted Lafayette turned 
 to the other redoubt, and knowing hy the sharp firing that 
 it was not yet carried, and remembering the sneer of Vio- 
 menil, dispatched a messenger to that officer, saying that 
 his own redoubt was carried, and asking if he needed any 
 help. " Tell Lafayette," proudly replied the Baron, " that 
 my redoubt will be carried in five minutes." He made good 
 his word, and soon cheer answered cheer, and the French 
 and American flags waved a salutation to each other across 
 the intervening space. The loss of the Americans was only 
 
394 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 
 
 sixty-five killed and wounded, while that of the French 
 was over a hundred. The latter stopped to remove the 
 
 abatis. 
 
 The possession of these redoubts were of the utmost im- 
 portance, for, besides being relieved from their flank fire, 
 Washington with batteries erected there could enfilade the 
 whole English line. 
 
 The girdle of tire was now narrowing to a fatal interval, 
 and even desperate measures must be resorted to, or the 
 trao-edy would close. Cornwallis therefore determined, it is 
 said, to leave his sick and baggage behind, and crossing 
 over to Gloucester, cut up by an unexpected, impetuous as- 
 sault, the French and American troops stationed there — 
 mount what he could of his infantry on the horses of the 
 Duke's Legion and others which he might be able to seize, 
 and fleeing through Maryland, Pennsylvania and New Jer- 
 sey, gain New York. This absurd attempt, if ever really 
 intended, was cut short by a sudden storm of wind and rain, 
 which rendered the passage of the river impracticable. 
 
 Toward morning of this same night, Cornwallis made a 
 sortie with 800 men on the incomplete French batteries, 
 and carried them, but the Due de Chastellux advancing to 
 their support, drove the assailants back. The latter suc- 
 ceeded in spiking four cannon, but having time to do it only 
 by ramming the points of their bayonets into the touch- 
 holes and then breaking them off, the pieces were soon ren- 
 dered serviceable again. At daylight new batteries in the 
 second parallel were opened, when there was not a spot 
 within the town unexposed to the desolating fire of the be- 
 siegers. The buildings were pierced like a honey-comb — 
 the earth rose m furrows and mounds on every side as the 
 heavy shot and shells ploughed through, while carcases of 
 men and horses were strewn amid the broken artillery car 
 riages and wrecks of the works. In short, the camp was 
 completely uncovered, and cannon balls searched every part 
 
LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 395 
 
 of it. The English troojos stood in still despair and let the 
 iron storm beat on them. Cornwallis had hoped for succor 
 to the last, but this useless sacrifice of his men was too 
 dreadful to be longer endured, and at 10 o'clock the loud 
 beat of the charaade was heard in the intervals of the explo- 
 sions of cannon, and the firing ceased. Cornwallis then sent 
 a flag of truce requesting a cessation of hostilities for twenty- 
 four hours, to arrange the terms of capitulation. To this 
 Washington would not consent, fearing that the arrival of 
 the English fleet in the meantime might alter the aspect of 
 affairs, and allowed him but two hours in which to transmit 
 his proposals. A rough draft was sent, and the next day 
 the terms of capitulation were agreed upon. On the 18th, 
 the garrison, with colors cased and playing a melancholy 
 march, moved slowly out of their dilapidated works. The 
 French and American armies were drawn up on opposite 
 sides of the road, with Rochambeau and Washington, splen- 
 didly mounted, at the respective heads of the columns, while 
 the fields around were black with thousands of spectators, 
 who had heard of the victory, and flocked hither to see the 
 army and the man who had so long been the terror of the 
 country. Not a sound broke the deep silence that had set- 
 tled on the field save the measured tread of the slowly 
 advancing thousands and the mournful air of their bands. 
 Cornwallis, wishing to be spared the mortification of the 
 scene, feigned sickness and was allowed to remain in his 
 quarters. In his absence. General O'Harra advanced and 
 oflered the sword of his commander to Washington. The 
 latter directed him to Lincoln, who so recently had been 
 compelled to surrender his own at Charleston. The latter 
 received and immediately returned it to the officer. Twenty- 
 eight British captains then advanced with sad countenances 
 and surrendered the twenty-eight flags of the army. En- 
 sign Wilson, only eighteen years of age, was appointed to 
 receive them. The whole army then laid down their arms, 
 
396 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 
 
 and the humiliating ceremony was over. Over seven thou- 
 sand men, with their arms, seventy-five brass and one hun- 
 dred and sixty iron cannon, twenty-eight standards, with 
 all the ammunition and stores, and the entire shipping, were 
 the fruits of this victory. 
 
 The next day was the Sabbath, and "Washington ordered 
 divine service in each of the brigades of the American army. 
 
 The news of this glorious victory flew like lightning over 
 the land. Washington dispatched at once one of his aids* 
 to Congress, then sitting in Philadelphia. The swift rider 
 dashed on a gallop into the city at midnight — the clatter of 
 his horse's hoofs the only sound that broke the silence of 
 the deserted streets, as he pressed straight for the house of 
 McKean, then president of Congress. Thundering at the 
 door as though he would force an entrance, he roused the 
 sleeping president, saying, "CornwaUis is taken!"' The 
 watchmen caught the words, and when they called " one 
 o'clock,'' they added, "and Cornwdllis is taken!" As they 
 moved slowly on their nightly rounds, windows were flung 
 open and eager countenances were seen scanning the streets. 
 A hum, like that of an awakening hive, immediately per- 
 vaded the city. The inhabitants went pouring into the 
 streets, while shout after shout rose on the midnight air. 
 The old bellman was roused from his slumbers, and soon 
 the iron tongue of the bell at the state -house rung out as 
 of old, "Proclaim liberty throughout all the land to all 
 THE inhabitants THEREOF." The dawu was greeted with the 
 booming of cannon ; and salvos of artillery, and shouts of 
 joy, and tears of thanksgiving, accompanied the glad news 
 as it traveled exultingly over the land. It is impossible, at 
 this day, to conceive the wild, ecstatic joy with which it 
 was received. 
 
 Not so in England. It had been sent by a French frigate, 
 
 * Colonel Tilghman. „ 
 
r 
 
 WASUINGTON AND LEE AT MONMOUTH. 
 
LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 399 
 
 and as if the winds and waves were anxious to waft it on, 
 the vessel reached France in eighteen days. Lord Germain, 
 Secretary of the American department, received it in Lon- 
 don, on Sunday the 25th of November, just two days before 
 Parliament was to meet. Lord Walsingham, who had been 
 selected to second the address in the house of Peers on the 
 following Tuesday, happened to be present when the official 
 intelligence arrived. Lord Germain immediately called a 
 hackney coach, and taking Lord Walsingham with him, pro- 
 ceeded to Lord Stormount's in Portland Place. The three 
 then hastened to the Lord Chancellor's, when, after a brief 
 consultation, they decided to go at once and present the in- 
 telligence to Lord North in person. They reached his house 
 between one and two o'clock. The dreadful tidings com- 
 pletely unmanned the stern prime minister. When asked, 
 afterward, how he took it. Lord Germain replied, "As he 
 would a ball in his breast. For he opened his arms, exclaim- 
 ing wildly, as he paced up and down the apartment during 
 a few minutes, ' Oh, God, it is all over!' As the full extent 
 of the catastrophe continued to press on him, he could only 
 repeat, ' Oh, God, it is all over — it is all over !' " In it he 
 saw the hand-writing on the wall, and knew that the hour 
 of his overthrow had come. At length he became more 
 composed, and the four ministers began to discuss the mat- 
 ter seriously. They concluded it would be impossible to 
 prorogue Parliament for a few days, and the first thing to 
 be attended to, therefore, was the alteration of the King's 
 speech,- which had already been prepared. Lord Germain 
 then sent a dispatch to the king, George TIL, at Kew. Sir 
 N. W. Wraxall, who dined with Lord Germain that day, 
 says that the first news was publicly communicated at the 
 table. All wore anxious to hear how the king bore it, 
 when Lord Germain read aloud his reply. It was calm 
 and composed, bearing no marks of agitation, except, as 
 Lord Germain remarked, "I observe that the king has 
 
400 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 
 
 omitted to mark the hour and minute of his writing with 
 his usual j)recision.'* 
 
 The opening of ParHament was the signal for the on- 
 slaught of the ojJiDOsition. This humiliation of the British 
 arms furnished them the occasion and material for the most 
 terrible invective. Fox, and Burke, and the younger Pitt, 
 came down with the swoop of the eagle on Lord North. 
 The stern minister, however, bore j)roudly up for awhile 
 against the storm, but was at last compelled to bow before 
 its force. 
 
LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 401 
 
 CHAPTER Xin. 
 
 Sickness and Death of young Custia — Departure of the French Fleet — Destination 
 of *^he '^roops — Circular Letter to the States — Lincoln Secretary of War— Greene 
 aroimd onarleston — Head-quarters at Newburgh — The Temple— Case of Captain 
 Huddy and Captain Asgill — Defeat of the English Ministry — Proposal to make 
 Washington King — Settlement of the Case of young Asgill — Meeting of French 
 and American Troops at King's Ferry — Destitution of the Officers — Washing- 
 ton's Views on the Subject — " Newburgh Addresses" — Proclamation of Peace^ 
 Washington addresses a Circular Letter to the States — Visits Northern Battle 
 Fields — Disbanding of the Army — Evacuation of New York — Farewell to the 
 Officers — Washington Surrenders his Commission to Congress — His Feelings on 
 laying down Power — Visits his Land West — Improves his Farm — Interview 
 with Lafayette, and Letter to him after his Departure — His Habits of Life — 
 Inefficiency of Congress — Washington's Views and Feelings respecting it — Soci- 
 ety of the Cincinnati — Convention called to form a Constitution — Washington 
 chosen President — The Constitution — Washington elected First President of tho 
 United States. 
 
 While Yorktown was yet ringing to the acclamations of 
 the allied armies, Washington received a blow which made 
 him for a time forget even the glorious victory which he 
 had achieved. The only child of his wife, and beloved by 
 him like an own son, had been from the commencement of 
 the war his aid-de-camp. The mother's heart was wrapped 
 up in that youth, and often in battle his safety lay nearer 
 the father's heart than his own. He rode by the chieftain's 
 side during the siege of Yorktown, and saw with pride and 
 exultation the British army march forth and lay down its 
 arms. But this victor}^ cost him his life. While the balls 
 of the allied troops were demolishing the enemy's entrench- 
 ments without the camp, fever was desolating frightfully 
 within. To this disease young Custis fell a victim. Imme- 
 diately after he was attacked by it, Washington directed 
 him to be removed to Eltham in New Kent, whither he was 
 accompanied by his mother and Dr. Craik, the old family 
 physician. The disease made frightful progress, and it was 
 soon apparent that nothing could save him. A messenger 
 
402 LIFE OF WASHINaTON. 
 
 was immediately dispatched to Yorktown with the melan- 
 choly tidings. He arrived in the night. Instantly mount- 
 ing his horse, taking with him but one officer, Washington 
 started for the sick-bed of the sufferer. The two solitary 
 horsemen galloped silently and swiftly forward, and just as 
 day was breaking, reached the house where the young aid 
 lay dying. Summoning Dr. Craik, Washington eagerly asked, 
 *'Is there any hope V^ The doctor shook his head. He im- 
 mediately retired into a private room where his wife joined 
 him, and the two remained for a long time closeted toge- 
 ther. Washington, with the tears of grief still depicted on 
 his countenance, then remounted his horse and rode back 
 to camp. 
 
 He had been exceedingly anxious to enlist the Count 
 de Grasse in an expedition against Charleston, but the or- 
 ders of the latter forbade his compliance. An attempt to 
 obtain the use of the troops for nearer service was equally 
 unsuccessful. Finding the fleet was about to set sail, Wash- 
 ington went on board the admiral's vessel to pay his re- 
 spects and express his thanks to the Count, to whom also 
 he presented two superb horses. 
 
 The latter having at length re-embarked that portion of 
 the troops commanded by the Marquis St. Simon, sailed for 
 the West Indies. Two thousand Continentals under St. Clair 
 were dispatched to the aid of Greene in the South, while 
 the remainder, under Lincoln, embracing those north of 
 Pennsylvania, marched to their winter quarters in New Jer- 
 sey — the light troops of New York joining their respective 
 regiments in the Highlands. The French under Rocham 
 beau remained in Virginia, the head-quarters of the latter 
 being at Williamsburg. The prisoners being marched 'to 
 Winchester, Virginia and Fredericktown, Maryland, Lord 
 Cornwallis and the principal British officers went on parole 
 to New York. Washington repaired to Philadelphia to con 
 suit with Congress on the measures necessary to be adopted 
 
LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 403 
 
 for the next campaign. Lafayette in the meantime and 
 many other French officers, had obtained leave to return to 
 France, carrying back with them the warmest feelings of 
 love and admiration for Washington. 
 
 Notwithstanding the disasters that had befallen the Bri- 
 tish army, there were no indications that the government 
 intended to relax its efforts to reduce the colonies. But 
 fearing such would be the impression of the different States, 
 causing them to put forth less energy, Washington, in con- 
 sultation with Congress, issued two circular letters to them — 
 one asking for supplies, and the other stating the condition 
 and prospects of the army. Said he, " The broken and per- 
 plexed state of the enemy's affairs, and the successes of the 
 last campaign on our part, ought to be a powerful incitement 
 to vigorous preparation for the next. Unless we strenuously 
 exert ourselves to profit by these successes, we shall not 
 only lose all the solid advantages that might be derived 
 from them, but we shall become contemptible in our own 
 eyes, in the eyes of our enemy, in the opinion of posterity, 
 and even in the estimation of the whole world, which will 
 consider us a nation unworthy of prosperity, because we 
 know not how to make a right use of it." Notwithstanding 
 all his efforts, however, there was a general belief that the 
 war was virtually over. Still the government did not act 
 on this basis. Money was sought from France, General 
 Lincoln was appointed Secretary of War to give greater 
 energy and efficiency to that department, and every effort 
 made to put the nation in a posture to renew hostilities the 
 coming spring. 
 
 While these events were transpiring at Philadelphia, 
 Greene, with his suffering, half clad army, was gathering 
 closer and closer round the enemy in Charleston. The Bri- 
 tish general, however, maintained his position till the next 
 autumn, when, despairing of help, he at length agreed to 
 evacuate the place and on the 14:th of December marched 
 
404 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 
 
 his troops to the ships, pursued close by the column of 
 Wayne. A short time previous to this, the gallant Laurens 
 was killed in resisting a foraging party. 
 
 Washington having spent the winter in constant and ar- 
 duous correspondence, repaired in the middle of April to the 
 camp at Morristown, and a few days after continued his 
 journey, and took up his quarters at Newburgh.* 
 
 An event happened at this time which exasperated the 
 inhabitants of the colonies greatly, and filled Washington 
 with the deepest indignation. Captain Huddy, commanding 
 a small detachment in Monmouth county, New Jersey, was 
 seized by a party of refugees and taken to New York. A 
 few days after, he was dragged from prison, and carried by 
 Captain Lippincott, at the head of a band of refugees, to 
 Middletown, and there hung. This gallant officer, unmoved 
 by the brutality and ribaldry of his enemies, met his fate 
 with perfect composure. Washington, acting under the de- 
 cision of a Council of War, immediately wrote to Sir Henry 
 Clinton, demanding that Lippincott should be given up. 
 The British general refusing to comply with the demand, it 
 was determined to execute an English prisoner of equal 
 rank. Lots being drawn by the officers, a young man, only 
 nineteen years of age, named Captain Asgill, was designated 
 as the victim. The extreme youth of this officer rendered 
 it still more painful for Washington to adhere to his original 
 determination. Previous to his ascertaining who was to be 
 the sufferer he had said, ''Keenly wounded as my feelings will 
 he, at the deplorable destiny of the unhappy victim, no gleam of 
 hope can arise to him hut from the conduct of the enemy them- 
 selves." And again, "I will receive no application, nor 
 answer any letter on the subject, which does not inform me 
 that ample satisfaction is made for the death of Captain 
 Huddy on the perpetrators of that horrid deed." 
 
 • The building he occupied has been retained in ita original Btate, and is now 
 Owned by the State of New York, and made the depository of relics of the Revolution. 
 
LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 405 
 
 In the meantime Sir Guy Carleton arrived in New York 
 to assume the command in place of Clinton. Previous to 
 his departure great changes had taken place in the aspect 
 of affairs in Parliament. On the 2d of March, General 
 Conway introduced a resolution, declaring that a further 
 prosecution of the war in America for the purpose of sub- 
 duing the colonies was impracticable. The Ministerial party 
 endeavored to dispose of this hy a motion to adjourn. The 
 House divided, when the ministry was found to be in a mi- 
 nority of nineteen. Conway then moved that an address, 
 based on that resolution, be. presented to his Majesty. The 
 die was cast. The news spread like the wind, and in a 
 short time the city was in a state of intense excitement. 
 Lord Stormount, anticipating some public demonstration, 
 " wrote to the lord mayor and aldermen to prevent, if pos- 
 sible, illuminations in the city." They were accordingly 
 prevented ; but in the gallery on the top of the Monument 
 there blazed more than a hundred lamps.* Long and loud 
 acclamations rent the air, announcing to Lord North that 
 the hour of his overthrow had come. The different ambas 
 sadors from the various courts of Europe immediately hur- 
 ried off expresses to announce the momentous news. The 
 king's reply to the address was equivocal, but to every one 
 acquainted with the state of affliirs it was evident that the 
 opposition had gained a permanent ascendency. On the 
 20th, Lord Surrey made a formal motion respecting the re- 
 moval of ministers. Lord North interrupted him, -saying 
 that the ministry was about to resign their duties.f As a 
 last desperate expedient to retain their places, the Cabinet 
 
 * Vide Journal and Letters of Curwen, by George Atkinson Ward, page 336. 
 
 t It was on " this occasion Lord Surrey happened to espy Arnold in the House, 
 and sent him a message to depart, threatening, in case of refusal, to move for 
 breaking up the gallery ; to which the general answered, that he was introduced 
 there by a member ; to which Lord Surrey replied, he might, under that condition, 
 remain, if he would promise never to enter it a^rain — with which General Arnold 
 complied." — Vide Curwen^s Journal and Letters by Mr. Ward. 
 
406 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 
 
 proposed a dissolution of Parliament. This was defeated 
 by Thurlowe, the Lord High Chancellor, who, with a virtue 
 that honored him more than his office, refused to affix the 
 seals to such an order. 
 
 But as the prospect of peace brightened, the discontent 
 and murmurs of the troops increased. A long season of 
 idleness had given them time to brood over and discuss 
 their grievances, while they saw that the termination of the 
 war would be the signal of their dispersion and the end of 
 their power. Moreover, the independence of the country 
 naturally begat questions and discussions respecting the 
 form of government to be adopted. They had not origin- 
 ally taken up arms against a monarchy, but against its op- 
 pressive acts. The English government was considered by 
 many of the wisest men of the day to be a model one, and 
 they wished only to see its like adopted by their country 
 when its liberty was once secured. Besides, the most tho- 
 rough republicans had seen quite enough of the government 
 of a Congress. It had lost the respect of both civilians and 
 officers. It was clear, therefore, that a head was needed. 
 But this head must be invested with power sufficient to con- 
 trol and overrule Congress to a great extent, or it would not 
 possess the efficiency required to coerce obedience. Circum- 
 stances, of course, indicated Washington as that head, and 
 the next question naturally arose — under what title should 
 he govern ? The officers around Newburgh called meeting 
 after meeting, and warm and eager discussions evinced the 
 deep interest the army took in the form of government that 
 should be adopted. At length an old and respected officer, 
 Colonel Nicola, was empowered to sound Washington on this 
 delicate point. He, therefore, addressed him a letter, in 
 which, after going over the points referred to above, he, in 
 a circuitous manner, at length succeeded in communicating 
 the plain fact, that the army wished him to be "Kma." 
 This letter took Washington by surprise. An unexpected 
 
LIFE OF WASHINaTON. 407 
 
 danger had arisen before liim — an abyss suddenly opened at 
 his very feet. The army was actually assuming the control 
 of the government — the military jDower appointing the 
 civil. And, more than this, disgusted with the working of 
 republican institutions, it was thinking seriously of setting 
 up a king. Washington seemed doomed ever to wrestle 
 with evils. No sooner did one disappear before his wisdom 
 or strength, than from an unexpected quarter another rose 
 to fill him with grief and oppress him with anxiety. But 
 lie never seemed to despond, and nothing exhibits the 
 grandeur of his character more than the promptness and 
 courage with which he met and overcame every new form 
 of danger. But not in the darkest hour of his countrj^— 
 not in the midst of his starving, naked, dying troops — not 
 when overborne and scattered by the enemy — under no 
 blow with Avhicli fate had yet smitten him, did his heart so 
 sink as under the revelation made in this letter. What ! 
 become a king over a free people who had struggled so 
 nobly for their freedom — dash to earth the hopes which had 
 borne them up in the midst of such trials and suiTerings, 
 and wrong so deeply human faith, and confidence, and 
 rights, as turn traitor at last ? To hint that he was capable 
 of such turpitude, was striking at the very soul of honor. 
 Pride, grief, resentment, anxiety, commingled and intense, 
 swelled his bosom. " Sir," said he, in reply, " with a mix- 
 ture of great surprise and astonishment, I have read with 
 attention the sentiments you have submitted to my perusal. 
 Be assured, sir, no occurrence in the course of the war has 
 given me more painful sensations than your information of 
 there being such ideas existing in the army as you have 
 expressed, and as I must view with abhorrence and repre- 
 hend with severity. For the j^resent the communication of 
 them will rest in my oAvn bosom, unless some further agita- 
 tion of the matter shall make a disclosure necessary. 
 
 " I am much at a loss to conceive what part of my conduct 
 
 22 
 
408 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 
 
 could have given encouragement to an address, wliich to me 
 seems big with the greatest mischiefs that can befall my 
 country. If I am not deceived in the knowledge of myself, 
 you could not have found a person to whom your schemes 
 are more disagreeable. At the same time, in justice to my 
 own feelings, I must add, that no man possesses a more sin- 
 cere wish to see ample justice done to the army than I do, 
 and as far as my powers and influence in a constitu- 
 tional way extend, they shall be employed to the utmost of 
 my abilities to effect it, should there be occasion. Let me 
 conjure you, then, if you have any regard for your country, 
 concern for yourself or posterity, or respect for me, to ban- 
 ish those thoughts from your mind, and never communicate 
 as from yourself or any one else a sentiment of the like 
 nature." 
 
 Every line of this letter bears indications of a powerful 
 internal struggle — a struggle to maintain that self-compo- 
 sure and moderation he was wont to exhibit, but which, un- 
 der this new evil, threatened to forsake him. Incomparable 
 man ! intrenched so deeply in virtue that temptations and 
 the arrows of misfortune rebound from his bosom without 
 even leaving the mark of their contact. Yet this act seems 
 so in keeping with Washington's whole character and con- 
 duct, that it hardly strikes us as extraordinary. Virtues we 
 never expect to find in others we should be surprised not to 
 see exhibited in him. His actions are all so elevated above 
 .the common track of life, that it would disappoint us to find 
 any one of them tainted with the imperfections of our 
 lower sphere. So harmonious is his character in every part, 
 that its colossal proportions can be understood only by com- 
 paring him in detail with other men in similar circumstances. 
 
 The case of young Asgill continued to trouble Washington 
 exceedingly, and his whole correspondence shows a constant 
 and severe struggle between his feelings and his sense of 
 duty. Sir Guy Carleton finding, however, that he was im- 
 
i^<'^^i/V, 
 
 MOI. L PITCnKR AT MONMOUTir. 
 
LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 411 
 
 movable in his determination to sacrifice the young man 
 unless justice was done to Lippincott, had the latter arrested 
 and tried by court martial. It appeared, or was made to 
 appear on trial, that the latter acted under the authority of 
 the '^ Board of Directors of the Associated Loyalists,''^ and 
 hence was not personally responsible. This transfer of guilt 
 from the individual to a body or corporation has always 
 been a favorite method to escape responsibility. Of course, 
 the Board of Directors could not be hung — they could only 
 be disbanded, which was done — a task not demanding very 
 great sacrifice on the part of Sir Guy Carleton, as he had in 
 his pocket the power to make a treaty of peace with the 
 colonies. This manoeuvre, however, complicated the mat- 
 ter so much that Washington referred it again to Congress, 
 which seemed, by its tardiness, willing to let death claim its 
 victim in the ordinary way. Washington wrote bitterly of 
 this neglect of Congress, declaring that his own treatment 
 of that body did not warrant it, and justifies himself in 
 making the complaint, by asking, " When no notice is taken 
 of my application ; when measures I might otherwise adopt 
 are suspended — when my own feelings are wounded, and 
 others are perhaps suffering by the delay, how is it possible 
 for me to forbear expressing my disquietude .^" 
 
 In the meantime, young Asgill's mother, crushed to the 
 earth by the dreadful fate impending over her only son, a 
 mere boy in years, appealed, with all a- mother's tenderness 
 and earnestness, to the French ministry to intercede with 
 Washington to spare his life. The letter was shown to the 
 king and queen, who were so affected by its pathetic prayer, 
 that they directed the Count de Vergennes to request, as a 
 favor to France, that Captain Asgill might be set at liberty. 
 This spurred up the tardy Congress to action, and the young 
 man was restored to his family. 
 
 Sir Guy Carloton at length, in August, gave notice that 
 preliminaries for a treaty of peace had begun at Paris. The 
 
412 LIFE OF WASHINGTON". 
 
 war was now closed, and the French troops marched north 
 previous to their embarkation for France. Washington, to 
 show a mark of respect to his allies, took his army down 
 the river to meet them at King's Ferry. He ordered all the 
 troops to be clad and equipped with the clothing and arms 
 furnished by France, and those taken from the English ma- 
 gazines at Yorktown, which the French had generously sur- 
 rendered to the suffering Americans, and drawn up in two 
 opposite lines some distance apart. Between these the en- 
 tire French army passed, with colors flying — the Americans 
 playing the whole time a French march. These gallant 
 soldiers, with the sensitiveness peculiar to their race, felt 
 this expression of gratitude and compliment deeply, and 
 made the heavens ring with their enthusiastic acclamations. 
 The two armies encamped on and near Verplanck's Point 
 for a month, when the French departed for Boston, and the 
 Americans returned to Newburgh. But just as the evils of 
 war were disappearing, more threatening danger appeared 
 in the attitude of the army. The prospect of relief and of 
 prosperity to the country did not better their condition, 
 much less forbode any good in the future. At the very 
 time officers and men were entertaining their French allies 
 at Verplanck's Point, they were in a state of the greatest 
 destitution. At Yorktown, old Baron Steuben had to sell 
 his horse in order to raise funds with which to give a dinner 
 to the British officers ; and in the last meeting of the troops 
 of the two nations, the American officers were filled with 
 mortification that they were unable to return the civilities 
 of the French. Their families were suffering at home, 
 while they had not the means to pay for their own daily 
 expenses. Says Washington, in writing to the Secretary of 
 War, " Only conceive then the mortification they must 
 suffer (even the general officers) when they cannot invite a 
 French officer, a visiting friend, or a traveling acquaint 
 ance, to a better repast than bad whisky (and not always 
 
LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 413 
 
 tliat) and a bit of beef, without vegetables, will afford 
 them." In speaking of the result of neglecting to provide 
 for the army, he says, with that clear foresight which at 
 times almost amounts to the spirit of prophecy, " Under 
 present circumstances, when I see such a number of men 
 goaded by a thousand stings of reflection on the past and of 
 anticipation on the future, about to be turned on the world, 
 soured by penury and by what they call the ingratitude of 
 the public, involved in debts, without one farthing of money 
 to carry them home, after having spent fne flower of their 
 days, and many of them their patrimonies, in establishing 
 the freedom and independence of their country, and suffered 
 every thing that human nature is capable of enduring on 
 this side of death. I repeat it, when I consider these irri- 
 tating circumstances, without one thing to soothe their feel- 
 ings or dispel the gloomy prospects, I cannot avoid appre- 
 hending that a train of evils will follow, of a very serious 
 and distressing nature. * * I wish not to heighten the 
 shades of the picture so far as the reality would justify in 
 doing it — I could give anecdotes of patriotism and distress 
 which have scarcely ever been paralleled, never surpassed 
 in the history of mankind. But you may rely upon it, the 
 patience and long suffering of this army are almost exhausted^ 
 and that there never was so great a spirit of discontent as 
 at present. While in the field I think it may be kept from 
 breaking into acts of outrage ; but when we retire into win- 
 ter quarters, unless the storm is previously dissipated, I can 
 not be at ease respecting the consequences. It is high time 
 for a peace." With such words on his lips, and such gloomy 
 thoughts filling his heart, Washington had now marched his 
 army into winter quarters, and sat down to wait the result: 
 He wished to visit Mount Vernon, but dared not leave the 
 army. As in the field of battle, so in every place where 
 danger thickened, he interposed his person and influence to 
 save his country. His predictions proved true ; the army 
 
414 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 
 
 soon became unsettled, and from discontent proceeded to 
 loud murmurs and open menaces. It addressed Congress, 
 but its appeals were met with an unsatisfactory response, 
 and there now seemed no means left of obtaining justice 
 except their swords. 
 
 At length, March 10th, an anonymous notification of a 
 meeting of the officers at the Temple* appeared, followed 
 by a spirited and stirring address, written, as it afterward 
 appeared, by Major, subsequently General Armstrong. This 
 address was well calculated to arouse the army, already in a 
 highly inflammable state. The author, after speaking of 
 the disappointment every one had felt at the indifference of 
 government to the wants and rights of the army, saying 
 that " faith has its limits as well as its temper, and there 
 are points beyond which neither can be stretched without 
 sinking into cowardice or plunging into credulity," takes a 
 survey of the past, and in a series of startling questions 
 asks how their services have been rewarded — their toils and 
 sufferings received. Rousing their indignation by the re- 
 capitulation of their wrongs, and the contemptuous treat- 
 ment of their humble petitions, he exclaims — " If this then 
 be your treatment, while the swords you wear are necessary 
 for the defense of America, what have you to expect from 
 peace, when your voice shall sink and your strength dissi- 
 pate by division ; when those very swords, the instruments 
 and companions of your glory, shall be taken from your 
 sides, and no remaining mark of military distinction left 
 but your wants, infirmities and scars ? Can 3'Ou then con- 
 sent to be the only sufferers by this revolution, and retiring 
 from the field, grow old in poverty, WTetchedness and coii- 
 
 •* A large log building had been erected on the camp-ground in which to hold 
 meetings of the officers. It was to be dedicated the " Temple of Virtue," by a 
 ball, which AVashington opened with the beautiful Mrs. Warren as a partner. But 
 after the ball broke up, the officers spent the remainder of the night in such scenes 
 of revelry and riot that it was called simply the " Temple." 
 
LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 415 
 
 tempt ? Can you consent to wade through the vile mire of 
 dependency, and owe thi3 miserable remnant of that life to 
 charity which has hitherto been spent in honor ? If you 
 can — go, and carry with you the jests of Tories and the scorn 
 of Whigs, the ridicule, and what is worse, the pity of the world! 
 Go, starve, and be forgotten /" But if they revolt at this, 
 and would " oppose tyranny under whatever garb it may 
 assume," he says, " awake, attend to your situation, and re- 
 dress yourselves! If the present moment be lost, every 
 future effort is in vain ; and your threats then will be empty 
 as your entreaties now." He bids them assume a bolder 
 tone — appoint men to draw uji not a " memorial," but a 
 *' last remonstrance^^ — tell Congress that with them rest the 
 momentous question of war or peace between it and the 
 army — that nothing but redress shall prevail on them to 
 abandon their arms ; and if the war, not yet settled, should 
 be protracted, they would, in case their remonstrance was 
 unheeded, " leave the government to its fate," and " retire 
 to some unsettled country to smile in turn, and mock when 
 their fear cometh on." Such language and sentiments fell 
 like coals oftfire on the wronged and embittered hearts of 
 the troops, and portended a fearful explosion. Tlie crisis 
 that Washington foretold had arrived, but Heaven enabled 
 him to meet it. He immediately issued an order, calm in 
 its tone and without severity in its language, simply post- 
 poning the meeting till next Saturday.* By this sagacious 
 movement he disarmed opposition and gained time. He 
 spent the interval in personal conversations with the prin- 
 cipal officers, and by his great influence, wise counsel and 
 promises, allayed the agitation, so that, before the day of 
 meeting, he had undone all the mischief caused by the 
 address. 
 
 The TemjDle was thronged with officers long before the 
 
 * This caused another address more moderate in its tone. These are known 
 as the famous Nevvburgh Addresses. 
 
416 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 
 
 hour appointed for assembling had arrived. Washington, 
 accompanied bj his escort, rode over from Newburgh, some 
 three miles distant, and dismounting at the door, walked 
 slowly and solemnly to the raised platform at the farther 
 end. The house was still as the grave, and every eye was 
 bent on their beloved commander, who, like a pillar of fire, 
 had moved before them in the long night of their suffer- 
 ings. Taking out his spectacles, he pleasantly remarked, 
 •' You see, gentlemen, I have grown blind as well as gray in 
 your service.'^ This simple expression, falling as it did on 
 hearts strung to the highest tension, thrilled like an electric 
 spark through the assembly. As he glanced over the throng 
 of officers, and saw the veterans on whom he had so often 
 called, and not in vain, in the hour of battle and in the day 
 of danger, he felt sure of support and of success. 
 
 The address, calm, kind, conciliating and sympathetic, 
 was listened to with breathless interest. When it was fin- 
 ished, Washington, without adding another word, passed 
 out and remounted his horse. Knox immediately arose 
 and moved that the thanks of the officers be rendered to 
 the commander-in-chief for his address, " and tf assure him 
 that the officers reciprocate his affectionate expressions with 
 the greatest sincerity of which the human heart is capable." 
 A committee was appointed to draft resolutions, which re- 
 ported in a half an hour, declaring " that no circumstance 
 of distress or danger shall induce a conduct that might tend 
 to sully the reputation which they had acquired at the price 
 of their blood and eight years' service." It was also re- 
 solved, that " the officers of the army view with abhorrence 
 and reject with disdain the infamous propositions contained 
 in a late anonymous address," etc. The conspiracy was ex- 
 jDloded, the crisis past, and the danger over. 
 
 Soon after the news of a preliminary treaty of peace, 
 signed at Paris, being received, Washington issued an order 
 fixing the 19th of April, 1787, as the day on which it 
 
LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 417 
 
 sliould be publicly proclaimed to the army. At 12 o'clock, 
 the Temple was thronged, and the joyful intelligence com- 
 municated amid deafening plaudits. At evening the chap- 
 lains, in accordance with the orders of the chief, offered up 
 their thanksgiving and prayers at the head of the several 
 brigades. All the military prisoners were set at liberty in 
 honor of the event, and the American camp shook till a late 
 hour with the shouts and laughter of the soldiers. 
 
 Having addressed an able, patriotic circular to the several 
 States, Washington made a tour north to visit the battle-fields 
 in that section of the country. Visiting Saratoga, Ticonde- 
 roga and Crown Point — he went west as far as Fort Schuy- 
 ler, being absent nineteen days. On his return, by request 
 of the President of Congress, then sitting at Princeton, he 
 repaired to the latter place to give the aid of his counsel in 
 measures to be adopted for the common welfare. 
 
 A large proportion of the officers and soldiers having 
 gone home on furlough during the summer, Congress, on 
 the 18th of October, issued a proclamation discharging them 
 and all others from service. The army was thus disbanded, 
 with the exception of a small force left at Newburgh. The 
 scene presented at this final breaking up of the army was 
 most pitiable. Officers and soldiers were left without funds 
 to reach their homes, and there were cases of individual 
 suffering and destitution which would move the coldest 
 heart. Playing the tune of Roslin Castle, the mournful 
 requiem, to the measure of which they had always borne 
 their dead comrades to the grave, they paraded for the last 
 time, and then turned sorrowfully away. The only conso- 
 lation left the poor soldiers, as they scattered over the coun- 
 try, was the farewell address of Washington to them, in 
 which he praised their valor and patriotism, and promised 
 to guard their interests. 
 
 At length the orders arrived for the evacuation of New 
 York, and Washington returned to West Point, where he 
 
418 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 
 
 met the few remaining troops and moved down to Harlaem. 
 On the morning of the 25th November, General Knox ad- 
 vanced to where the Third Avenue and Bowery now meet, 
 and awaited the withdrawal of the British troops. As they 
 retired he advanced, and as the last British soldier left the 
 soil of freedom, cannon on the battery thundered out their 
 joy. Washington and Governor Clinton then made a formal 
 entrance, escorted by a corps of Westchester light-horse. 
 The two rode side by side, followed by the Lieutenant Gov- 
 ernor, and Council four abreast, these by Knox and the 
 officers on horsebacl?:, eight abreast, and they in turn by 
 mounted citizens, the procession being closed by the Speaker 
 of the Assembly and citizens on foot. The next Monday, 
 Clinton gave a grand entertainment to the French minister 
 ind officers, and the city rung to the clamors and joyful 
 shouts of the people. 
 
 Thursday, the 4th of December, was fixed upon for the 
 final leave-taking of Washington with his officers. This 
 was the most trying event in his whole career, and he sum- 
 moned all his self-command to meet it with composure 
 Knox, and Greene, and Hamilton, and Steuben, and others 
 assembled in Francis' tavern and waited with beating hearts 
 the arrival of their chief. Not a sound broke the silence as 
 he entered, save the clatter of scabbards as the whole group 
 rose to do him reverence. Casting his eye around, he saw 
 the sad and mournful countenances of those who had been 
 his companions in arms through the long years of darkness 
 that had past. Shoulder to shoulder they had pressed by 
 his side through the smoke of the conflict, and with their 
 brave arms around him met every shock of misfortune with 
 undaunted souls. He had heard their battle-shout answer 
 his call in the hour of deepest peril, and seen them bear his 
 standard triumphantly on to victory. Brave hearts were 
 they all and true on whom he had leaned, and not in vain. 
 A thousand proofs of their devotion came rushing on his 
 
LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 419 
 
 memory — their toils and conflicts rose before him, and the 
 whole history of the past with its checkered scenes swept 
 by, till his heart sunk in affection and grief. Advancing 
 slowly to the table, he lifted the glass to his lips and said, 
 in a voice choked with emotion : " With a heart full of gra- 
 titude and love, I now take leave of you; I most devoutly luish 
 that your latter days may be as prosperous and happy as your 
 former ones have been glorious and honorable." A mournful, 
 profound silence followed this short address, when Knox, 
 the friend of his bosom, advanced to say farewell. But 
 neither could utter a word — Knox reached forth his hand, 
 when Washington opening his arms took the stern warrior 
 to his heart. In silence, that was more eloquent than all 
 language, each advanced in turn and was clasped in his em- 
 brace. Washington dared not trust himself to speak, and 
 looking a silent farewell, turned to the door. A corps of 
 light infantry was drawn up on either side to receive him, 
 and as he passed slowly through the lines, a gigantic soldier, 
 who had moved beside him in the terrible march on Trenton, 
 stepped forth from the ranks, and reaching out his arms, 
 exclaimed, "Farewell, my dear General, farewell!" Wash- 
 ington seized his hardy hand in both of his and wrung it 
 convulsively. In a moment all discipline was at an end, 
 and the soldiers broke their order, and rushing around him 
 seized him by the hands, covering them with tears and sobs 
 of sorrow. This was too much for even his strong nature, 
 and as he moved away his broad chest heaved and swelled 
 above the tide of feelings that had at length burst the sway 
 of his mighty will, and the big tears rolled unchecked down 
 his face. Passing on to Whitehall, he entered a barge, and 
 as it moved out into the bay he rose and waved a mute 
 adieu to the noble band on shore. A mournful cry was 
 borne back over the water, and the impressive scene was 
 over. 
 
 He had now severed every link that bound him to public 
 
420 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 
 
 life except the formal surrender of his commission to Con- 
 gress. Passing on to Annapolis where this body was in ses- 
 sion, he was followed by the excited population, escorted by 
 military, and hailed with shouts at every step of his pro- 
 gress. On the 23d of December he publicly gave in tc 
 Congress his resignation as commander-in-chief of the army. 
 , A profound silence reigned during the address, and many 
 an eye was suffused as he closed with the impressive words, 
 " Having now finished the work assigned me, I retire from 
 the great theatre of action, and bidding an affectionate fare- 
 well to this august body under whose orders I have so long 
 acted, I here offer my commission and take my leave of all 
 the employments of j)ublic life." The next morning he 
 left for his farm, having for eight years and a half served 
 his country without reward, and achieved her independence 
 without a spot on his name. As he slowly travels back to 
 hie quiet home, bereft of every title, a simple American 
 citizen neither asking nor wishing honor, he is an object 
 of surpassing interest. The history of the world cannot 
 match him. 
 
 After long jeaxs of toil, of suffering, and of danger, he 
 had arrived at the summit of power only to descend quietly 
 again, leaving all his authority with that Congress which 
 had so often distrusted, neglected and even plotted against 
 him. Superior to temptation, superior to passion, too lofty 
 even for unholy ambition, he showed how unjust had been 
 their suspicions, how impolitic and injurious their opposi- 
 tion, and how much above them he had been both in wis- 
 dom and in virtue. It required no effort for him to surrender 
 power. Having wielded it solely for his country's good, he 
 laid it down as a burden the moment his country's peace 
 and liberty were secured. 
 
 Arriving at home, Washington found that during eight 
 years' absence his affairs had become sadly deranged, and 
 he immediately set about their adjustment. 
 

LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 423 
 
 The executive council of Pennsylvania had instructed the 
 delegates of the State to lay before Congress the question 
 of remuneration fot" his long and faithful services. But the 
 latter would listen to no proposition on the subject. Simple 
 in his tastes and habits, he had enough for his wants and 
 sought only repose. At first it was difficult to roll away the 
 weight of care that had so long rested on him. He could 
 not, he said, get the better of the habit of reflecting on the 
 business of the day immediately after waking, but as he be- 
 came gradually accustomed to his freedom, he felt, as he 
 wrote in a private letter, *'like a wearied traveler, who, 
 after treading many a painful step with a heavy burden on his 
 shoulders, is eased of the latter, having reached the haven to 
 which all the former were directed, and from his house-top 
 is looking back and tracing with an eager eye the meanders 
 by which he escaped the quicksands and mires which lay in 
 his way, and into which none but the all-powerful Guide 
 and Disposer of events could have prevented his falling." 
 In a letter to Lafayette, to whom he always opened his 
 heart, he said, " At length I am become a private citizen 
 on the banks of the Potomac, and under the shadow of my 
 own vine and fig-tree, free from the bustle of a camp and 
 the busy scenes of public life, and am solacing myself with 
 those tranquil enjoyments of which the soldier who is ever 
 in pursuit of fame, the statesman whose watchful days and 
 sleepless nights are spent in devising schemes to promote 
 the welfare of his own, perhaps the ruin of other countries, 
 as if this globe was insufficient for us all, and the courtier 
 who is always watching the countenance of his prince, in 
 hopes of catching a gracious smile, can have very little con- 
 ception. I have not only retired from all public employ- 
 ments, but I am retiring within myself, and shall be able to 
 view the solitary walk, and tread the paths of private life 
 with a heartfelt satisfaction. Envious of none, I am deter- 
 mined to be pleased with all; and this, my dear friend, 
 
424 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 
 
 being the order of my march, I will move gently down the 
 stream of life until I sleep with my fathers." 
 
 How simple yet self- sustained — how elevated in his own 
 grand thoughts above all that this world can bestow. 
 Through all the mazes and darkness and storms of the last 
 eight years — apparently chained and fettered by circum- 
 stances to the earth, he had nevertheless, in the might of a 
 great soul, been steadily soaring up to the serene heights 
 of contemplation, to the pure atmosphere of unworldly 
 thought. 
 
 During the summer Washington devoted most of his time 
 to the improvement of his farm and in entertaining guests 
 that crowded to see him from almost every quarter of the 
 world. Lafayette again visiting this country in August, 
 he had an affectionata interview with Washington, and then 
 started on a northern tour, while the latter made his sixth 
 and last expedition west to visit his lands in that section. 
 Supplied with tents, pack-horses and provisions, he set out 
 in September on a journey of six hundred and eighty miles 
 through the wilderness. He went by the old Braddock 
 route, where had occurred the most important events of his 
 early life. What strange reminiscences that journey must 
 have called up, and what a change had passed over his des- 
 tiny and that of his country since he first trod that desolate 
 region. As he stood by Braddock's grave, the past and pre- 
 sent met, and presented strange and most striking contrasts. 
 A mere stripling, dressed in an Indian hunting-shirt, he had 
 first passed over this route on his perilous journey as a com- 
 missioner to the French. The second time he traversed it 
 in search of his first battle. The third ended in the terrible 
 defeat of Braddock ; and now, after such a long interval, he 
 trod it a portion neither of French or English territory, but 
 of a free land of which he was the deliverer. Having sur- 
 vej'-ed his lands on the Monongahela, he returned by a long 
 and tedious route through the wilderness. The result of 
 
LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 425 
 
 his investigations were given in an able letter to the Gov- 
 ernor of Virginia, in which he portrayed clearly the advan- 
 tage that would arise from a water communication through 
 tlie country. With that sagacious forethought which was 
 so characteristic of him, he had from the first foreseen and 
 foretold the advantages of such communications both in the 
 north and south. 
 
 'On his return he again met Lafayette at Richmond, where 
 both were received with public honors. The latter then 
 accompanied him to Mount Vernon, and the two friends en- 
 joyed that sweet communion which is known only to pure 
 and virtuous hearts. His visit being completed, Lafayette 
 reluctantly took his departure, accompanied by Washington 
 as far as Annapolis. The tender nature of the relation that 
 existed between these great and good men, and the warmth 
 of Washington's affection, may be seen in the following 
 simple, touching letter to the Marquis after their separation, 
 December 8th. 
 
 Says he, " In the moment of our separation, upon the 
 road as I traveled, and every hour since, I have felt all that 
 love, respect, and attachment for you with which length of 
 years, close connection, and your merits have inspired me. 
 I often asked myself, as our carriages separated, whether 
 that was the last sight I should ever have of you ? And 
 though I wished to say no, my fears answered yes. I called 
 to mind the days of my youth, and found they had long 
 since fled, to return no more ; that I now was descending 
 the hill that I had been fifty-two years climbing, and that, 
 though I was blest with a good constitution, I was of a short 
 lived family, and might soon expect to be entombed with 
 my fathers. These thoughts darkened the shades and gave 
 a gloom to the picture, and consequently to my prospect of 
 seeing you again." 
 
 Li consequence of his letter to the Governor on the im- 
 portance of internal navigation, the Legislature organized 
 
426 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 
 
 two companies (the Potomac and James River) and gave to 
 him as a compliment fifty shares of the former and a hun- 
 dred of the latter. These he refused to accept, unless he 
 was allowed to appropriate them to some public use. This 
 was granted, and he made over before his death the shares 
 of the James River Company to Liberty Hall Academy in 
 Rockbridge county, now Washington College, which has 
 been materially benefited by the donation. The fifty 
 shares of the Potomac Company were bequeathed for the 
 endowment of a University in the District of Columbia. 
 What has become of them perhaps the directors of the 
 Chesapeake and Ohio Canal Company, into which they were 
 merged, can tell. During this year he became interested in 
 a scheme of Lady Huntington for civilizing and Christian- 
 izing the Indians, but Congress declining to grant any land 
 for the colonists that were to be sent out in accordance with 
 this plan, it fell through. The past year Washington had 
 devoted himself almost entirely to his farm, and having at 
 length got it in a proper state, he the next spring [1785] 
 turned his attention to ornamenting his grounds by trans- 
 planting forest trees. He saw every tree taken up, moved, 
 and put down in the place assigned it. He also added to 
 his stock of fruit trees, and might be seen almost daily in 
 the season for pruning, with knife in hand, clipping his 
 orchards. That hand, which had so long grasped the sword 
 and made its light terrible on the battle-field, now wielded 
 with far greater delight the pruning hook. 
 
 Still the privacy and seclusion he sought were not wholly 
 attainable, for, though holding no public place, he was the 
 most public man on the continent. Hence, between corres- 
 pondence, applications for aid or advice, and a constant 
 throng of visitors, only brief respites of tranquil leisure 
 could be enjoyed. Nothing but the regularity of his habits 
 allowed him any privacy. Rising before the sun, he shut 
 himself up in his study till breakfast time. After breakfast 
 
LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 427 
 
 he mounted his horse, taking such guests as chose to accom- 
 pany him, and rode over his farms. On his return he again, 
 withdrew to his study till three o'clock, when he dined, and 
 devoted the rest of the day to amusement. 
 
 In October of this year, Houdon took the bust of Wash 
 ington previous to making his celebrated statue of him, 
 which had been ordered by the State of Virginia. Chantry 
 and Canova both executed statues of him, but Houdon's is 
 considered the best ever taken. 
 
 While Washington was thus enjoying the comparative 
 
 quiet of his home avocations, events were gathering to a 
 
 crisis, which showed clearly that the arm that had saved 
 
 the republic in war would soon be needed to rescue it from 
 
 as great perils in peace. The impossibility of governing 
 
 the country by a Congress grew every day more and more 
 
 apparent. With such a mediator as Washington between it 
 
 and conflicting interests and sections, it had floundered 
 
 through the war almost miraculously, but now, when left 
 
 entirely to itself, it only got involved deeper and deeper in 
 
 embarrassments. Besides, if the jealousies of the separate 
 
 States prevented them from yielding competent powers to 
 
 Congress to save the country from an invading army, it waS' 
 
 clear they would operate with stronger force in peace. Thi& 
 
 state of things Washington declared would, unless remedied,, 
 
 efiect " our downfall as a nation." "This," he says, "isa& 
 
 clear to me as A, B, C, and I think we have opposed Great 
 
 Britain and have arrived at the present state of peace and 
 
 independence to very little purpose, if we cannot conquer 
 
 our own prejudices." He declared that, although a simple 
 
 citizen, and hence as liable as any one to feel the effects of 
 
 tyrannical legislation, he had no fear of " too great an ex 
 
 tension of Federal powers," but he " predicted the worst 
 
 consequences from a half-starved, limping government, that 
 
 appears to be always moving on crutches and tottering at 
 
 every step." Again, in writing to Mr. Jay, he says : " To 
 
 23 
 
428 LIFE OF WASHIXGTON. 
 
 be fearful of investing Congress, constituted as that body is, 
 with ample authorities for national purposes, appears to me 
 the climax of popular absurdity and madness. Could Con- 
 gress exert them for the detriment of the public without 
 injuring themselves in an equal or greater proportion ? Are 
 not their interests inseparably connected with those of their 
 constituents ?" On the contrary, he feared that they would 
 be too timid in the use of authority, held back by the fear 
 of losing their popularity. Without going into the particu- 
 lar measures in which this jealousy of giving too much 
 power to Congress exhibited itself, the result at length 
 reached was — a confederacy too weak to hold together. Unless 
 a change could be effected, therefore, a dissolution of the 
 Union was inevitable. This deplorable state of things filled 
 Washington with the deepest anxiety and grief. To see the 
 goodly fabric he had reared with so much toil and care fall 
 to the ground, and the nation he had saved from bondage 
 become the by-word and scoff of kings, was a contemplation 
 from which he turned away with an aching heart. He 
 strove by every exertion in his power to avert such a catas- 
 trophe. Events at length shaped matters so that the threat- 
 ened peril was escaped. Maryland and Virginia appointed 
 commissioners to form a compact relative to the navigation 
 of the rivers Potomac and Pocomoke and part of Chesa- 
 peake bay. These proposed other commissioners to make 
 arrangements for maintaining a naval force in the Chesa- 
 peake, and to establish a tariff of duties on imports, to 
 which the laws of both- States should conform.* This sug- 
 gested to the Legislature of Virginia to request other States 
 to send deputies also to the convention to take into consi- 
 deration the trade of the United States, and adopt regula- 
 tions, and suggest laws to Congress for an harmonious 
 arrangement of the whole question of internal commerce. 
 
 • Vide Marshall's Life of Washington. 
 
LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 429 
 
 Only five States sent deputies, and these without power to 
 settle anything. They, however, accomplished one grand 
 work — they made a report, showing the evils of the present 
 federal system — and recommended a convention of deputies 
 from all the States to take the matter up. Virginia ap- 
 pointed seven, Washington heading the list. He, however, 
 hesitated about being " swept back into the tide of public 
 affairs." Besides, he had written a circular letter to the 
 States, declaring his intention to resign the presidency of 
 the Cincinnati Society, and saying he could not be present 
 at their next meeting in Philadelphia. Now this meeting 
 was to take place at the very time appointed for the con- 
 vention. If he should, therefore, go to the latter, after he 
 had refused to attend the former, the distinction would seem 
 to be invidious — in short, it would look like a desertion of 
 his old companions in arms. Especially would this con- 
 struction be natural, as the society was very unpopular — 
 being denounced unsparingly as anti-republican. It had a 
 badge like foreign nobility — it admitted foreign officers — • 
 membership was hereditary in the family of the members, 
 while it allowed the accumulation of funds to any amount. 
 Although Washington had through his influence shorn it of 
 its most objectionable features, and thus silenced some of 
 the heaviest attacks of its enemies, still it was unpopular. 
 But Congress having sanctioned the convention, thus giving 
 it a legal character, and so arranged matters that the meet- 
 ing of the Society of the Cincinnati should be a week earlier, 
 thus giving Washington an opportunity to attend it first and 
 explain his views, he at length, at the solicitation of men 
 earnest for the welfare of their country, yielded his scruples 
 and accepted the appointment. 
 
 The convention assembled the second Monday in May, 
 with every State but Rhode Island represented. Wash- 
 ington was appointed president, and the result of its 
 deliberations was the Constitution of the United States. 
 
430 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 
 
 This IS not the place to go into the history of that con- 
 vention. Its deliberations lasted four months, and the con- 
 clusions it came to were the fruit of a compromise. That 
 jealousy which had hitherto rendered the confederacy com- 
 paratively powerless, on the one hand, and the strong de- 
 sire to see great power concentrated in the Federal head, on 
 the other, operated as antagonisms, and produced at last 
 that which neither party could fully approve. The consti- 
 tution was not stringent enough for the Federalists, and too 
 stringent for the Democrats — and thus being a compromise, 
 had the most determined, positive men of both parties for 
 its enemies. Such patriots as Patrick Henry, Colonel Ma- 
 son, Gerry and others opposed it. It was, however, sub- 
 mitted to the different States, and Washington waited with 
 the deepest solicitude their decision. The prospects of its 
 adoption were poor at first, but they gradually brightened, 
 and at length it became the Constitution of the United 
 States. 
 
 The first step, as provided by the new constitution, was 
 the election of a President. All eyes were immediately 
 turned to Washington. But averse to entering again the 
 cares of public life, unwilling to incur the suspicion of 
 being ambitious, and loth to part with pursuits so congenial 
 to his tastes, he was disinclined at first to yield to the gen- 
 eral wish. Being plied, however, on the only weak point 
 he possessed, love of country, he was at last persuaded to 
 accept the nomination, and was elected first President 
 almost by acclamation. 
 
LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 431 
 
 CHAPTER Xrv. 
 
 Washington prepares to leave Mount Vernon — He Visits Fredericksburg, to take 
 leave of his Mother — He Departs for New York — The Journey — Triumphal Arch 
 at Trenton— Reception at Elizabethtown— Arrival and Welcome at New York- 
 Installation of Washington as First President of the United States — He Declines 
 Compensation for his Services — Illness, and Recovery — Debate on Titles — Death 
 of the Mother of Washington — Organization of the Departments — Washington 
 makes a Tour through the Eastern States— The Seat of Government is Removed 
 from New York to Philadelphia — Establishment of a National Bank — Washing- 
 ton Visits the Southern States — Development of Factions— He Desires to Retire 
 at the Close of his Term of Administration— Is Induced to Serve a Second Time 
 — Re-inaugurated President of the United States— The French Revolution— Eng- 
 land Declares War against France — Washington Issues a Proclamation of Strict 
 Neutrality — Opposition and Enmity — M. Genet's Arrival, and Assumption — 
 Washington Requests his Recall — Relations with England — Jay's Mission— Op- 
 position to the Tax on Distilled Spirits — Proclamation to the Insurgents — Calling 
 out of the Militia — Restoration of Peace — Jay's Treaty — Its Ratification — Resig- 
 nation of Randolph, Secretary of State — Washington's Private Life — Description 
 of his Appearance on State Occasions — Imprisonment of Lafayette— Washing- 
 ton's Successful Intercession in his Behalf — Washington's Farewell Address- 
 Election of John Adams — Washington Returns to Mount Vernon — His Life in 
 Retirement — Difficulties with France — Washington appointed Commander-in- 
 Chief— He Returns to Philadelphia to Organize the Army — Interview with Dr. 
 Logan — Napoleon — Terms of Accommodation at Paris — Washington at Mount 
 Vernon — His Last Illness — His Death — His Character. 
 
 The election of Washington being in effect unanimous, 
 he was perfectly aware of the result, as soon as mere news- 
 paper returns could be received from different parts of the 
 country, and hence at' once began to make preparations for 
 leaving Mount Vernon. Speaking of the long interval be- 
 fore entering on his duties, he, in a letter to Knox, said, 
 *' This delay may be compared to a reprieve, for in confi- 
 dence I tell you, (with the world it would obtain little cre- 
 dence,) that my movements to the seat of government will 
 be accompanied by feelings, not unlike those of a culprit 
 who is going to a place of execution, so unwilling am I, in 
 the evening of a life nearly consumed in public cares, to 
 
432 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 
 
 quit a peaceful abode for an ocean of difficulties." His last 
 act before commencing his journey north, was one of filial 
 devotion. His aged mother lived in Fredericksburg, and 
 thither he directed his steps. After embracing her, he told 
 her of his election to the office of President, and added that, 
 before he entered upon his duties, he had come to bid her 
 " an affectionate fiirewell." " So soon," said he, " as the 
 public business which must necessarily be encountered in 
 forming a new government, can be dispensed with, I shall 
 hasten back." "You will see me no more," she mourn- 
 fully replied. " My great age and the disease which is 
 rapidly approaching my vitals, warn me that I shall not be 
 long in this world. But you, George, fulfill the high desti- 
 nies which Heaven has assigned you. Go, my son, and may 
 Heaven and your mother's blessing be with you, always." 
 Overcome by the solcmnit}^ of her manner and the declara- 
 tion, which he knew to be true, he leaned his head on her 
 aged shoulder and wept. That great grand heart, which 
 made him so terrible on the battle-field, was yet full of the 
 tenderest affections, and clinging still to that dear parent, 
 whose love for him was deep and unfiiiling as the ocean- 
 tide, he wept like a child when told he should see her no 
 more. Not when on the disastrous field he stops and 
 gathers around him, by his majestic bearing, the broken 
 fragments of his army, nor when he stands at the head of 
 the republic which he has saved, does he appear so great, 
 so worthy of the adoration of men, as here when he leans 
 and weeps on the neck of his mother. 
 
 The scene and the characters furnish one of the noblest 
 subjects for an artist found in American history. 
 
 From the time that the result of Washington's election 
 was known, till his departure for New York, congratulations 
 and warm expressions of delight poured in upon him in 
 such a constant flow, that if anything could have reconciled 
 him to the abandonment of private life, the pleasure he waa 
 

 
 , ,,/T^^ - '^/^ ^'" \r 
 
 
 
 ^ . 
 
 W A S II I N G T N TAKING LEAVE F T II E A R 11 Y. 
 
LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 435 
 
 evidently giving to others would have effected it. Still it 
 required a great effort to surrender the quiet of his home, 
 and the pursuits so congenial to his tastes, for the turmoil of 
 public life. In a letter to Edward Rutledge, he says : "You 
 know, my dear sir, I had concentrated all my schemes, all 
 my views, all my wishes within the narrow circle of domestic 
 enjoyment. Though I flatter myself the world will do me 
 the justice to believe, that, at my time of life and in my 
 circumstances, nothing but a conviction of duty could have 
 induced me to depart from my resolution of remaining in 
 retirement, yet I greatly apprehend that my countrymen 
 will expect too much of me." 
 
 At length, on the ICth of April, he bade a reluctant adieu 
 to his farm and rural occupations, and commenced, what 
 was at that time the long, tedious journey to New York. 
 Instead of being elated with the proud position he was to 
 occupy, or of feeling his pulses quicken at the whisper of 
 ambition, a touching sadness pervades his whole conduct, 
 and he inserts in his diary : "About ten o'clock I bade adieu 
 to Mount Vernon, to private life and to domestic felicity ; 
 and Avith a mind oppressed with more anxious and painful 
 rsensations than I have words to express, set out for New 
 York in company with Mr. Thompson and Colonel Hum- 
 phreys, with the best disposition to render service to my 
 country in obedience to its call, but with less hope of an- 
 swering its expectations." 
 
 His journey was more like the trlumi3hal march of a Ro- 
 man conqueror, than the quiet progress of an American 
 citizen. The news of his approach preceded him, and from 
 every farm-house and shop and hamlet — ^from every valley 
 and green mountain slope, the grateful delighted peoiDle 
 came swarming in crowds along the highway to greet him 
 — and shouts, and blessings, and delirious welcome marked 
 every step of his passage. At Trenton, the inhabitants 
 wreathed with garlands the bridge of Assanpink, where he 
 
436 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 
 
 lay encamped the night before he marched on Princeton, 
 and over it bent an arch on which was inscribed : 
 
 The Hero who defended the Mothers, 
 Will also protect the Daughters. 
 
 At the farther extremity a crowd of h'ttle girls, robed in 
 white, with garlands around their temples, and baskets filled 
 with flowers in their hands, stood ready to receive him as he 
 passed beneath the arch. Behind them, at a little distance, 
 was still another throng composed of maidens also, arrayed in 
 white, and still farther in the back ground the aged fathers 
 and mothers. As the stately form of Washington passed 
 through the arch, those children and maidens burst forth into 
 a song of welcome. The chorus was, '^ Strew your heroes way 
 with flowers,''^ and as its sweet and thrilling melody rolled 
 heavenward, they cast their flowers in his path. The aged 
 parents behind with glad tears streaming down their 
 cheeks ; the daughters in front, arrayed in white ; the little 
 children nearer still, their eyes beaming with excitement, 
 and the associations connected with the spot, all combined 
 to render the scene one of the most tender and touching in 
 the whole life of Washington ; and as the clear and ringing 
 
 _orus, " Strew your heroes way with flowers,^* rose and fell 
 .n thrilling cadences on the air, the enthusiasm broke over 
 all bounds, and a long shout of exultation, and " Long live 
 Washington," shook the banks of the stream. The beauti- 
 ful ranks opened to receive the chieftain as he advanced, 
 and looking down on the throng of sweet upturned faces, 
 the tears gathered in his eyes, and with a quivering lip, he 
 waved his hat and passed on. At Elizabethtown an elegant 
 barge, manned by thirteen New York pilots, neatly dressed 
 in white, was waiting to receive him. The shore was lined 
 with people, and as Washington stepped into the boat, they 
 sent up a long and deafening shout. At a given signal the 
 
 gayly decorated craft pushed from the shore, and as the oars 
 
LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 437 
 
 dipped into the water there went forth a blast of trumpets, 
 and triumphant strains of martial music floated out over 
 the water. Boat after boat from New York met and fell in 
 the procession, and when the open bay was reached, a whole 
 fleet of vessels, flaunting with ribbons and gay streamers, 
 and crowded with spectators, gathered around the barge of 
 Washington, singing peans of victory, while shouts blending 
 in with the pealing of bugles and strains of martial music 
 swelled the enthusiasm beyond all bounds. The whole vast 
 concourse swept on toward the Battery, each wharf as they 
 passed sending up a wild welcome from its crowded head, 
 while the thunder of artillery received him at the place of 
 landing. As he stepped on shore, one united loud " Long 
 Live Washington" rose from the mighty multitude. Pass- 
 ing through lines of military, he moved to the head of the 
 military, when the whole fell in and passed up Broadway to 
 the Park, beside which was the house selected for his resi- 
 dence. At night the city was ablaze with illuminations and 
 innumerable fire-works, and the streets shook to the shouts 
 of the populace. Wholly unlike all other men throughout 
 his whole career, so here the passionate enthusiastic wel- 
 come he received did not waken up one of those feelings of 
 gratification or pride which seem inherent in our very nature. 
 Intent only on benefiting others, thinking sadly over the 
 disappointments he might create, he says : " The departure 
 of the boats which attended me, and joined on this occasion, 
 some with instrumental music on board — the decorations of 
 the ships, the roar of cannon, and the loud acclamations of 
 the people which rent the air as I passed along the wharves, 
 filled my mind with sensations (contemplating the reverse 
 of this scene, which may be the case after all my labors to 
 do good) as painful as they were pleasing." The pageantry 
 which usually intoxicates the soul, and the adoration which 
 naturally awakens pride, had no power over him. Think- 
 ing only of the country he loves better than his life, his mind 
 
438 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 
 
 passes on to the time when his best efiforts may be mis- 
 judged and his fondest hopes disappointed. Good as he 
 was great, so good that virtue in him seemed not the result 
 of effort, but the natural breath of his being, he seems not 
 to know what it is to resist temptation. 
 
 I do not design to go into a detailed history of Washing- 
 ton's administrations, for that would embrace the entire 
 range of the political history of the country for eight years, 
 sufficient in itself to constitute a large work. 
 
 His installation into office as First President of the Re- 
 public, April 30th, was accompanied with imposing ceremo- 
 nies. At nine o'clock in the morning all the bells in the 
 city called the inhabitants each to his own place of worship, 
 to invoke God's blessing on their future chief, and on the 
 country over which he was to preside. In those days the 
 superintending providence of the Almighty was believed in, 
 and his pleasure or displeasure considered worth regarding 
 by those who loved their country. At noon the troops 
 paraded in front of Washington's house, when he, attended 
 by the committees of Congress and Heads of Department 
 and Foreign Ministers, entered his coach and rode alone to 
 the Federal Hall. Chancellor Livingston administered the 
 oath of office in presence of the people, who ratified it 
 with long and loud acclamations of "Long live Washington, 
 our President." 
 
 After delivering his inaugural speech to the two Houses 
 of Congress, he went on foot to St. Paul's church, where 
 prayers were read by the bishop. At night bonfires and 
 illuminations and transparencies kept the city in a tumult 
 of joy, and lighted out the day, which had so auspiciously 
 begun. 
 
 Acting on the principle which had governed all his public 
 life, Washington announced to Congress that he would 
 receive no compensation for his services, and asked only 
 that his necessary expenses should be paid by the State. 
 
LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 439 
 
 The different departments not yet being organized, Jay, 
 Secretary of Foreign Afiliirs, and Knox, of War, under 
 Congress, continued to fulfill the duties of their respective 
 offices, while a Board of Commissioners had charge of the 
 Treasury. From these Washington obtained full reports, 
 which he himself went over carefully and in detail, and 
 condensed with great- labor. He at once, with his usual 
 method, set out to master every department of government. 
 
 From the first he was constantly overrun with persons 
 calling to pay their respects to him, distracting his attention 
 and occupying the time which he needed for public pur- 
 poses. This embarrassed him much ; still it was a delicate 
 matter to avoid the evil on the one hand, and yet escape 
 the charge of imitating royalty in exclusiveness on the 
 other. After much discussion and correspondence, it was 
 finally agreed upon to set apart one hour on each Tuesday, 
 between three and four, to receive visitors. 
 
 In June, he was taken seriously ill, and suffered much 
 from an affection of one. of his limbs, and for a time morti- 
 fication seemed almost certain to follow. Dr. Bard was his 
 physician, and while the danger was imminent, never left 
 his side. From the anxiety manifested in the countenances 
 of those who surrounded him, and the constant assiduous 
 attentions of the physician, Washington became convinced 
 that his case was a very critical one. One day, therefore, 
 being left alone with Dr. Bard, he looked him steadily in 
 the face, and then asked him to say candidly, what he 
 thought would be the termination of his disease. The 
 doctor replied that he had great hopes of his recovery, still 
 there were serious grounds of apprehension. " To-night or 
 twenty years hence, (calmly replied Washington,) makes no 
 difference ; I know that I am in the hands of a good Provi- 
 dence.^** He was ill six weeks, and it was a long time 
 
 * Life of Dr. Samuel Bard, by Professor McVickar. 
 
440 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 
 
 before he regained his usual strength and health. When 
 he had recovered suflficiently to ride out by being bolstered 
 up in his seat, it was touching to witness the sad and 
 anxious countenances of the people as he passed ; and the 
 murmured blessings that followed his receding carriage 
 were worth more than thrones and diadems. 
 
 From the first, there had been in the Senate a singular 
 excitement respecting the title with which the President 
 should be addressed, and a joint committee from both 
 Houses, was at length appointed to report in this important 
 matter. Their united report was, that no titles should be 
 given. But this was too democratic for the Senate, and a 
 hot debate followed in that body, which was stopped only 
 by the previous question. The committee of the Senate, 
 however, reported that it was proper to style the President 
 " His Highness y the President of the United States of America, 
 and Protector of their Liberties.'* The House of Represen- 
 tatives took no notice of this, but addressed a communica- 
 tion to the President simply as '^ President of the United 
 States." 
 
 The excitement extended to the country, and the news- 
 papers took up the subject with great warmth, but the 
 republican spirit at length overcame all opposition, and the 
 subject of titles was dismissed from the public mind. 
 
 In August, Washington received intelligence of the death 
 of his mother, who had reached the advanced age of eighty- 
 two. In reply to a letter from his sister, announcing the 
 sad event, he said, " Awful and affecting as the death of a 
 parent is, there is consolation in knowing Heaven has spared 
 ours to an age which few attain, and favored her with the 
 full enjoyment of her mental faculties, and as much bodily 
 strength as usually falls to the lot of four-score. Under 
 these considerations, and a hope that she is translated to a 
 happier place, it is the duty of her relatives to yield due 
 submission to the decrees of the Creator." 
 
LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 441 
 
 Washington carried into his life, as President, the same 
 habits of strict economy that he practiced at home, yet he 
 found it Impossible often to come within the sum of $25,000, 
 which had been voted by Congress as his salary, and he was 
 compelled to resort to his private income to meet his cur- 
 rent expenses. Only the departments of treasury, war, and 
 foreign affairs, were formed during this session of Congress, 
 and it adjourned in the latter part of September. Hamilton 
 was appointed Secretary of the Treasury. Jefferson was at 
 the head of Foreign Affairs, which office also embraced that 
 of Secretary of State, while Knox was retained Secretary 
 of War. Edmund Randolph was appointed Attorney Gene- 
 ral, and John Jay placed at the head of the Supreme Court. 
 The different appointments caused much perplexity, but the 
 President, by adopting one principle, viz., to select men 
 solely for their qualifications and capacity to fill the office 
 in which they were placed, succeeded in convincing most 
 of the wisdom of his course. 
 
 When Congress adjourned, he took advantage of the ses- 
 sion to make a tour through the Eastern States. He was 
 absent a month visiting various localities, but he studiously 
 avoided Rhode Island, because she had not yet come into 
 the Union. Every step of his progress was an ovation, and 
 he could scarcely move without having his carriage sur- 
 rounded by enthusiastic multitudes, while congratulations 
 poured in upon him from every side. The proofs of rising 
 prospects and increasing wealth which appeared in the New 
 England States gratified him exceedingly, and he returned 
 to New York not only much improved in health, but cheered 
 also at the great satisfaction of the people with their new 
 government. 
 
 The passing of proper laws, the payment of foreign loans 
 and home debts, and all the machinery of a new govern- 
 ment, by turns occupied Congress, and necessarily deeply 
 engaged the mind of the President. A short visit to Rhode 
 
442 LIFE OP WASHINGTON. 
 
 '•1 
 
 Island, which had at length come into the confederation, 
 was the only relaxation he took during this session of Con- 
 gress. At its adjournment he visited again Mount Vernon, 
 but its quiet walls and secluded haunts could no longer dis- 
 tract his attention from public afiairs. Our relations with 
 England were not promising, while those with Spain assumed 
 a still more unfavorable character. These two nations, 
 one at the north and the other at the south, stirred up the 
 Indians to hostilities, and kept our frontiers drenched in 
 blood. 
 
 In his dealings with the Indians Washington always 
 adopted a humane policy. He recognized all their rights, 
 and treated them in every way as if they were civilized 
 nations. His course would doubtless have been successful 
 but for the intrigues of England and Spain. At length, 
 however, forbearance became a crime, and he commenced 
 open hostilities against them. The defeat of Harmar and 
 afterwards of St. Clair protracted the war, so that it con- 
 tinued through nearly the whole first term of his adminis- 
 tration, and drew heavily upon the Treasury. There is an 
 incident connected with the overthrow of St. Clair, which 
 illustrates Washington's love of justice. An adjutant gene- 
 ral, Sargeant, who was wounded in the battle, escaped and 
 hastened immediately to the seat of government with the 
 disastrous news. Being a man of wealth he was enabled to 
 get transported rapidly, and hence outstripped the courier 
 several days. Washington invited him to Mount Vernon, 
 where he remained till St. Clair's despatches arrived ; yet 
 during all this time never asked a question respecting St. 
 Clair's defeat. Although much distressed and deeply anxious 
 about the event, he was afraid he might hear a partial 
 account, and thus be induced to decide unjustly. Sargeant 
 said that during the whole time he was at his house no one 
 would have known a battle had been fought but from Wash- 
 ington's inquiry every morning respecting his wound. 
 
LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 443 
 
 At length, in 1793, Wayne was appointed commander of 
 the forces in the north-west, and by one terrible blow pros- 
 trated the Indians and restored peace. 
 
 Congress having changed the place of sitting from New 
 York to Philadelphia — it met at the latter place in the fore 
 part of December, 1790. The National Bank, established 
 this session, awakened much opposition, but Washington, 
 after mature deliberation, approved the project. With Con- 
 gress he was deeply engaged during the winter in completing 
 various plans of policy, and labored unceasingly to perfect 
 the government. 
 
 When Congress adjourned in the spring, he made a trip 
 to the Southern States, going as far south as Savannah. 
 The whole journey of eighteen hundred and eighty-seven 
 miles, was made with the same horses and carriage. His 
 presence everywhere was hailed with delight, and he 
 returned more and more convinced that a great and glorious 
 future was before his country. 
 
 At the next session of Congress, the elements of those 
 two terrible factions. Federalists and Democrats, began to 
 develop themselves more fully, and filled Washington with 
 the gravest fears. Hamilton and Jefferson, represented 
 those two classes of opinions and feelings in the country, 
 and soon assumed a hostile attitude to each other. The 
 former was for concentrating more power in the central 
 government, by removing it from the separate states — the 
 latter for taking more power from the federal government 
 and bestowing it on the states. Seeing the bitterness of 
 feeling which these different views caused between his Sec- 
 retary of the State and of the Treasury, and fearing the 
 animosity that it would create in the country, Washington 
 used all his influence to bring about some reconciliation or 
 compromise. His letters and appeals to each breathed the 
 spirit of kindness and patriotism, but nothing could allay 
 the fire which had been kindled, and it blazed on fiercer and 
 
444 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 
 
 fiercer till the overthrow of the Federalists, in the war of 
 1812, ended the strife. Against himself, as the leader of 
 the Federalists, all the venom and malignity of the Demo- 
 crats were levelled. 
 
 In a letter, speaking of the political animosity which had 
 pursued him, he says, " Until within the last year or two I 
 did not believe that parties would or ever could go the 
 length I have been witness to ; nor did I believe, until 
 lately, that it was within the bounds of probability, hardly 
 within those of possibility, that, while I was using my 
 utmost exertions to establish a national character of our 
 own, independent, as far as our obligations and justice would 
 permit, of every nation of the earth, and wished by steering 
 a steady course, to preserve this country from the horrors 
 of a desolating war, I should be accused of being the 
 enemy of one nation, and subject to the influence of an- 
 other ; and to prove it, that every act of my administration 
 would be tortured, and the grossest and most invidious mis- 
 representations of them be made, by giving one side only 
 of a subject, and that too in such exaggerated and indecent 
 terms as could scarcely be applied to a Nero, a notorious 
 defaulter, or even to a common pickpocket. But enough of 
 this. I have already gone further in the expression of my 
 feelings than I intended." It seems hardly possible, at this 
 day, that men could have been found so lost to reason, truth 
 and virtue, as to load Washington with aspersions such as 
 he here himself declares were heaped upon him. But 
 political malignity always becomes personal, and is just as 
 deep and unsparing. 
 
 When the term of his administration drew to a close, he 
 hoped that he would be permitted to retire to private life 
 and spend the remnant of his days in quietness and peace. 
 His known reluctance to accept the first nomination, 
 created great fear among all parties, lest he should utterly 
 refuse to accept a second. The hatred of faction gave way 
 
■t!!id%,i4Mft;\.;;n;,. -y !; > * ;,»> ,';,■;, 
 
 
 WASUINUTUN AT TUK DHATH li E i> OF YOUN 
 
 G C U S T I S . 
 
LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 447 
 
 f') ; larm In view of the disaster that might follow his deser- 
 tion of tlie helm of state. Those who afterward became 
 his enemies urged him not to think of retiring, declaring 
 that his commanding influence and wisdom were indispens- 
 able in order to fix firmly and forever, that which had only 
 settled into transient repose, and if he did not remain the 
 whole tottering fabric would fall. By all that was dear to 
 the Union, they besought him not to expose it at last to 
 overthrow. They knew that Washington's weak side was 
 his patriotism, and they plied it with appeals and arguments 
 in turn, till at length he yielded, and on the fourth of 
 March, 1793, was again inaugurated President of the United 
 States. 
 
 For the last three years the rumblings of the coming 
 earthquake in France, had startled Europe from her long 
 repose, and Washington watched the progress of events 
 with the deepest interest, not only from the principles that 
 were involved, but because the fate of Lafayette, he knew, 
 would be that of republicanism. At length the Bastile fell, 
 and Lafayette, through Tom Paine, sent to him the key of 
 that strong fortress of tyranny and secret dungeon of op- 
 pressed men. The National Assembly also wrote him a 
 letter, closing with "May the individuals of the two nations 
 connect themselves by a mutual affection, worthy of tho' 
 friendship which unites the two men, at this day most illus- 
 trious by their exertions for liberty, Washington and La- 
 fiiyette.'* But the joy which the apparent regeneration of 
 France had occasioned, gave way to alarm as the car of 
 revolution rolled on in blood, and soon Europe was in arms 
 to arrest its farther progress. England at length having 
 joined the crusade for the overthrow of liberty, declared 
 war against France. This threatened to augment most 
 seriously the difficulties that surrounded the commencement 
 jf Washington's second administration. Pie immediately 
 
 iubmitted to the cabinet several queries respecting the 
 
 24 
 
448 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 
 
 policy it was necessary and right for the United States to 
 pursue. 
 
 They having answered these inquiries, he by their advice 
 issued a proclamation of strict neutrality between the two 
 powers. Not only from the fact that France was struggling 
 for liberty, the very principles of which had been trans- 
 planted from this country, but also as toward an ally and 
 friend who had just poured out her treasures and her blood 
 in our behalf, this proclamation kindled into fury all the 
 latent fire that had been so long partially smothered, and 
 from that moment the secret opponents of Washington 
 became more and more his open enemies, and a relentless 
 war was waged against him till the close of his administra- 
 tion. It was denounced as faithless to France and obse- 
 quious to England, and worse than all, declared a mere 
 party measure adopted by his advisers to secure a political 
 end. The charge of striving to force this country into a 
 useless war, of sympathising with wholesale slaughter of 
 women and children, were retorted on the democrats, and 
 that strife of factions rapidly gathered strength and in- 
 creased in ferocity, till it shook the federal government to 
 its foundation. 
 
 While this state of feeling was dividing the country, Mr 
 Genet, minister from the French Republic, arrived on our 
 shores. Landing at Charleston, he was received with such 
 enthusiasm that he believed the United States were ready 
 to rush to arms to help their sister republic, who was only 
 striving to carry out the principles of liberty and equality 
 which her armies had learned in our long and almost hope- 
 less struggle. He went so far in his extravagances as to 
 order vessels to be fitted out as privateers in the very harbor 
 of Charleston. These in time returned with prizes, which 
 called forth a remonstrance from the British minister. The 
 American government immediately forbade the fitting out 
 .of privateers, which brought forth angry and impertinent 
 
LIFE OF WASHINGTON". 449 
 
 letters from Genet to the Secretary of State. He even 
 disregarded the declaration of our government and kept 
 sending vessels to sea, which, in turn, caused more stringent 
 measures to be adopted. This, of course, excited still more 
 violently the French minister, and in the blindness of his 
 rage, he dared to threaten Washington, declaring that he 
 had usurped the power of Congress, and even hinted at an 
 appeal to the people. Washington, feeling that the dignity 
 of the country required that he should no longer tolerate 
 this insulting conduct, directed that a request should be 
 immediately forwarded to France, asking his recall. 
 
 This had become the more necessary, from the fact that 
 die Frenc minister had begun to organize societies over 
 the land favorable to his views. 
 
 Our relations with England were still more complicated. 
 Morose from the loss of her fairest colonies, and determined 
 to narrow down their limits as much as possible, she held 
 forts on our soil, and sustained the Indians on our frontiers 
 m their hostilities. She also impressed American seamen, 
 and her privateers seized American goods on the high seas. 
 To vex France, she also issued two orders, one authorizing 
 tlie seizure of all American ships laden with breadstuJfFs, if 
 bound to France ; and another detaining all vessels freighted 
 with goods or provisions, sailing from any ])o^t of France, 
 or of her colonies. These orders struck down, with a single 
 blow, neutral rights. The President, in his annual message 
 of 1793, took strong ground against them, declaring that 
 the United States should claim and maintain its rank among 
 the nations of the earth, and that the only way to secure 
 peace, was to let it be known they were always ready for 
 war. Fox, the leader of the opposition in the British Par- 
 liament, alluding to this message of Washington, drew 
 a contrast between Washington and the ministers of Great 
 Britain, in which he said, " How infinitely more wise must 
 appear tlie spirit and principles manifested in his late ad- 
 
450 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 
 
 dress to Congress, than the policy of modern European 
 courts. Illustrious man ! desiring honor less from the 
 splendor of his situation than from the dignity of his mind." 
 He declared that the potentates of Europe sank into insig- 
 nificance before him. " For him," said he, " it has been 
 reserved to run the race of glory without experiencing the 
 smallest interruption to the brilliancy of his career." 
 
 Erskine, afterwards Lord Erskine, wrote to him, saying, 
 " I have a large acquaintance among the most valuable and 
 exalted classes of men, but ^''ou are the only human being 
 for whom I ever felt an awful reverence." As in the field, 
 so in the cabinet, amid internal troubles and outward 
 difficulties, his character shone forth with undimmed and 
 constant brilliancy. 
 
 The difficulties with the mother country, however, kept 
 increasing, and a second war seemed inevitable. As a last 
 experiment, he determined to send Mr. Jay as minister 
 plenipotentiary to England, to see if an amicable adjustment 
 might not be made, and a treaty secured. Congress, turbu- 
 lent with contending factions, at length adjourned, and the 
 public mind turned to watch the effect of Jay's mission. 
 But while much hope was entertained from his efforts, and 
 the prospects of peace seemed to brighten, internal insur- 
 rections menaced us with more immediate and imminent 
 dangers 
 
 The tax on distilled spirits, which had been levied by 
 Congress, a few years before, caused at this time great com- 
 motion. This, instead of subsiding with time, had kept on 
 increasing, and now had reached a point threatening civil 
 war. The officers were violently treated in the discharge 
 of their duties, and bands of armed men set at defiance the 
 authority of the general government. Painful as the alter- 
 native was, there was no choice left but to meet force with 
 force. Preparatory to more serious measures, Washington 
 issued a proclamation, commanding the insurgents to dis- 
 
LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 451 
 
 perse before the first of September, or he would call out the 
 militia to enforce the laws. The insurgents, numbering it 
 was supposed some sixteen thousand men, were congregated 
 chiefly in the western part of Pennsylvania, but there were 
 many also in New Jersey, Maryland, and Virginia. Wash- 
 ington was, at length, compelled to call out the militia. 
 Accompanied by the Secretary of War, he visited the two 
 places of rendezvous of his troops (Cumberland and Bed- 
 ford), and then ordered them to march across the Allegha- 
 nies, and disperse, at all hazards, the insurgents. This im- 
 posing force overawed all opposition, and peace was restored 
 "without the shedding of blood. 
 
 The Constitution requiring all treaties to be ratified by 
 the Senate, Washington issued a proclamation requiring 
 that body to assemble in June. I shall not here discuss 
 that treaty. That it was such an one in its conditions as 
 this country would at present make no one believes. 
 Washington did not wholly approve- of it. He considered 
 it incomplete and unsatisfactory, but the choice lay between 
 this treaty and war. As the national honor had not been 
 isacrificed, he thought this partial settlement of the difficul- 
 ties between the two countries was better than an open 
 rupture. 
 
 The Senate occupied two weeks in discussing this treaty 
 and finally only by a bare constitutional majority, advised 
 its ratification. Nor could this vote be obtained except by 
 excluding one article in it which prohibited American vessels 
 from transporting molasses, sugar, coffee, cocoa and cotton 
 either from the United States or West India Islands to any 
 other part of the world. Ships not exceeding seventy tons 
 might carry the products of the States to the islands — no- 
 thing more. This of course the southern members would 
 not for a moment listen to. The conduct of the Senate em- 
 barrassed Washington much. He was not certain that this 
 could be called a ratification till the excluded article was 
 
452 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 
 
 re-submitted to the English government. If it was not, his 
 signature to the treaty would be clearly improj^er. In the 
 meantime a senator gave a copy of the treaty to the editor 
 of a newspaper, and it was published. Thus cast before 
 the public, unaccompanied by any of the diplomatic corre- 
 spondence, explanations, &c., it kindled into sudden and 
 fierce conflagration the angry feeling that had been partially 
 slumbering. It was everywhere received with clamors, 
 with taunts and fierce denunciations. Public meetings were 
 called, and national pride and honor so vehementlj^ appealed 
 to, that a feeling was raised, Avhich for a time threatened to 
 sweep away the administration. Bold and threatening 
 resolutions were sent to the President from Boston. To 
 settle the question at once, and allay the disorders, and pre- 
 vent public demonstrations against the executive, Washing- 
 ton called together his cabinet, and submitted to it the 
 question of ratification. All but the Secretary of State 
 advised it, and on the 18th of August he signed the treaty 
 with the condition annexed, and sent it accompanied by 
 a remonstrance to the British government against the 
 obnoxious article, which had the desired effect, and it was 
 excluded. 
 
 The day after Randolph, Secretary of State, resigned his 
 office. A letter from M. Fauchet, the French minister, 
 deeply implicating his character, had been intercepted at 
 sea and sent to the British cabinet, and by them forwarded 
 to Mr. Hammon, British minister at Philadelphia. The 
 latter gentleman handed it to the Secretary of the Treasury, 
 who translated it. Washington was immediately sent for at 
 Mount Vernon, and as soon as he arrived the letter was 
 shown him. In it were plain intimations that Mr. Ran- 
 dolph was working for the interests of the French nation, 
 and could be bought over still further, in short was false to 
 his position, and the trust reposed in him. Washington, in 
 the presence of his cabinet, quietly handed Mr. Randolph 
 
LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 453 
 
 this letter and asked for an explanation. The latter was 
 indignant that the matter had not been submitted to him 
 privately before it was brought before the cabinet, and the 
 same daj handed in his resignation. In a note to the Presi- 
 dent, lie requested that this letter, so deeply implicating his 
 character, should be kept secret until he should have time to 
 secure a thorough and full investigation, which would esta- 
 blish his innocence. His request was comjDlied with, j^et 
 he seemed in no hurry to have the investigation take place, 
 and never did exculpate himself wholly from blame. He 
 delaj^ed, hesitated, pretended papers were withheld, &c., 
 when he had free access to all of Washington's papers, both 
 public and private, with full permission to use them in his 
 own defense. Mr. Pickering, from the War Department, 
 took his place, and James M. Henry of Baltimore, became 
 Secretary of War. 
 
 When Congress assembled (March 29th), it refused to 
 enact the laws necessary to carry the treaty into effect, and 
 by a large majority passed a resolution requesting the Pre- 
 sident to lay before them his instructions to Mr. Jay, with 
 all the documents bearing on the negotiations. To refuse 
 would be regarded a tacit confession of improper conduct 
 on his part, by his enemies, while to accede would be yield- 
 ing the prerogatives belonging to his office, and allowing 
 encroachments which the constitution had guarded against. 
 That instrument placed the treaty-making power in the 
 President and Senate. Though much troubled at the 
 dilemma in which he was placed, Washington refused to 
 comply with the request, and gave as his reasons the uncon- 
 stitutionality of it, and the dangerous and mischievous ten- 
 dency of adopting such a precedent. The House was con- 
 founded with this refusal, and for days after the hall rung 
 with angry denunciations, which were combated with solid 
 reason and calm judgment. The members, however, at last 
 yielded. Still there was much bitter feeling engendered 
 
454 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 
 
 throughout the country, and one would have thouglit from 
 the tone and language of many of the papers, that Wash- 
 ington, instead of being the defender and liberator of his 
 country, was its greatest foe and oppressor. But as he had 
 stood amid a mutinous army, under the suspicious distrust 
 and neglect of Congress, and in the night of disaster and 
 gloom of the revolution, so now he stood calm and unmoved 
 amid the assaults of poHtical foes, and under the false accu- 
 sations of unscrupulous detractors. 
 
 In writing to Knox, he says, in speaking of his enemies, 
 " The consolation, however, which results from conscious 
 rectitude, deprives their sting of its poison ;" and again, 
 *' Next to a conscientious discharge of my public duties, to 
 carry along with me the approbation of my constituents, 
 would be the highest gratification my mind is susceptible 
 of; but the latter being secondary, I cannot make the for- 
 mer yield to it, unless some criterion more infallible than 
 partial (if they are not party) meetings can be discovered, 
 as the touchstone of public sentiment. If any power on 
 earth could, or the Great Power above would, erect the 
 standard of infallibility in political opinions, there is no 
 being that inhabits this terrestrial globe, that would resort 
 to it with more eagerness than myself, so long as I remain 
 a servant of the public. But as I have found no better 
 guides hitherto than upright intentions and close investiga- 
 tion, I shall adhere to those maxims, while I keep the 
 watch ; leaving to those who will come after me, to explore 
 new ways, if they like or think them better." In looking 
 back from this distant point to the party feuds and political 
 distractions of those times, how lo£ty, how infinitely elevated 
 above all his traducers and enemies does the character of 
 Washington appear. Living in an atmosphere of truth 
 and sincerity, seeking no selfish ends, but with an eye 
 single to his country's good, he by the mere majesty of 
 virtue alone, triumphs over all opposition, and finds his 
 
LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 455 
 
 way to the innermost heart of the people. Neither 
 partizan leaders nor loud-mouthed demagogues nor cun- 
 ning detractors could shake the faith of the nation in 
 him their more than father. That faith of the masses 
 in his truth and integrity, rising over all the efforts 
 of political leaders, is the highest eulogium on their own 
 virtue, and shows that they were worthy of the freedom 
 they had achieved. 
 
 In the meantime, Randolph had prepared his vindication, 
 as he termed it. The pamphlet was characterized by great 
 bitterness of feeling, and unjust aspersions of Washington. 
 Ingersoll, of Philadelphia, happened into the apartment of 
 the latter just after he had received it, and witnessed one of 
 those sudden explosions of wrath which terrified the be- 
 holder. He found, he said, Mrs. Washington, and other 
 ladies, cowering in a corner like frightened doves over 
 which an eagle is hovering, and gazing with silent terror 
 on the wrathful visage of Washington, fairly blazing with 
 passion, while a torrent of invective poured from his lips. 
 The duplicity, falsehood, and ingratitude displayed in this 
 "vindication," for a moment unmanned him, and he 
 became the lion he sometimes was on the battle field. 
 
 The private life of Washington, at this time, was charac- 
 terized by the great formality which distinguished that 
 period. He rarely, if ever, walked out alone, but, dressed 
 in black, with a secretary on each side, and all three wear- 
 ing cocked hats, would stride majestically and silently along, 
 apparently no more conscious of the presence of those attend- 
 ing him, than of his own shadow. He often took drives in 
 a handsome cream-colored coach, with .four horses, into the 
 country ; but on Sunday, in going to church, he used but 
 two horses. The livery of his servants was white, trimmed 
 with gay colors, and Avhen, with his coach and six, he drove 
 to the Senate, his appointments bore but faint resemblance 
 to those of a republican President of the present day. The 
 
45G LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 
 
 following description, by Pticliard Rush, of his appearance 
 on great state occasions, is very graphic : — 
 
 " Washington was to open the session of Congress by 
 going in person, as was his custom, to deliver a speech to 
 both houses, assembled in the chamber of the House of 
 Representatives. The crowd was immense. It filled the 
 whole area in Chestnut street before the State House, 
 extended along the line of Chestnut street above Sixth 
 street, and spread north and south some distance along the 
 latter. A way kept open for carriages in the middle of the 
 street, was the only space not closely packed with peojole. 
 I had a stand on the steps of one of the houses in Chestnut 
 street, which, raising me above the mass of human heads, 
 enabled me to see to advantage. After waiting long hours 
 as it seemed to a boy's impatience, the carriage of the Pre- 
 sident at length slowly drove up, drawn by four beautiful 
 bay horses. It was white, with medallion ornaments on the 
 panels, and the livery of the servants, as well as I remem- 
 ber, was white, turned up with red, at any rate a glowing 
 livery — the entire display of equipage at that era, in our 
 country generally, and in Philadelphia in particular, while 
 the seat of government, being more rich and varied than 
 now, though fewer in number. Washington got out of his 
 carriage, and, slowly crossing the pavement, ascended the 
 steps of the edifice, upon the upper platform of which he 
 paused, and, turning half round, looked in the direction of 
 a carriage which had followed the lead of his own. Thus 
 he stood for a minute, distinctly seen by every body. He 
 stood in all his civic dignity and moral grandeur — erect, 
 serene, majestic. His costume was a full suit of black vel- 
 vet, his hair, itself blanched by time, powdered to snowy 
 whiteness, a dress sword by his side, and his hat held in his 
 hand. Thus he stood in silence, and what moments those 
 were ! Throughout the dense crowd profound stillness 
 reigned. Not a word was heard, not a breath. Palpitations 
 
(•! j 1:1* >-. -"^.y, 
 'l I,'' 
 
 WASHINGTON T A K I N (J 
 
 LKAVE OP Ills MOT U Ell. 
 
LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 459 
 
 took the place of sounds. It was a feeling iiiflnitel}- bcj'ond 
 that which vents itself in shouts. Every heart was full . 
 In vain would any tongue have spoken. 
 
 " All were gazing, in mute, unutterable admiration 
 Every eye was riveted on that form — the greatest, purest, 
 most exalted of mortals. It might have seemed as if he 
 stood ill that position to gratify the assembled thousands 
 with a full view of the father of his country. Not so. He 
 had paused for his secretary, then, I believe, Mr. Dandridge 
 or Colonel Lear, who got out of the other carriage, a chariot, 
 decorated like his own. The secretary, ascending the steps, 
 handed him a paper — probably a copy of the speech he was 
 to deliver — when both entered the building. Then it was, 
 and not till then, that the crowd sent up huzzas, loud, long, 
 earnest, enthusiastic."* 
 
 To the embarrassments which -surrounded him resulting 
 from Jay's treaty, and his own refusal to send to Congress 
 the i^apers relating to it, was added the deepest solicitude 
 for his friend the Marquis de Lafayette. This nobleman 
 was at first the idol of the French populace, but in the 
 opposing tides of revolution he had been stranded, and was 
 now languishing in an Austrian prison. We had at tha.^' 
 time no representative in Austria or Prussia, and Washing- 
 ton could not therefore appeal directly to those governments, 
 still through our ministers at other foreign courts, he inter- 
 ceded unceasingly for his deliverance. He sent also to the 
 British cabinet requesting its powerful mediation, but in 
 vain. As a last resort he wrote direct to the Emperor of 
 Germany, asking as a boon, a great personal fixvor, that 
 Lafayette might be permitted to come to America, promis- 
 ing to regard sacredly any instructions under which he 
 might embark. At length he had the pleasure of hearing 
 that Lafliyette had been delivered over to the American 
 
 * From the Republican Court, bj Rufus Griswold. 
 
460 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 
 
 consul at Hamburg, and of communicating the glad intelli- 
 •gence to young George Washington Lafayette, who had l)een 
 for two years a resident in his house. Harassed by the 
 difficulties with France and England, that seemed farther 
 than ever from permanent settlement — well convinced in 
 his own mind that unless the policy and sj^irit of the British 
 government changed, another war with that power was in- 
 evitable, he saw with relief his second term of office draw- 
 ing to a close. Turning a deaf ear to all proposals for 
 reelection for a third term, he devoted much of his thoughts 
 to a Farewell Address to his countrymen. Among the 
 noble legacies which he left to his country, none is more 
 worthy of being treasured in the heart of the people than 
 this address. Through all its wise counsels, noble maxims, 
 and elevated thought, the spirit of undying patriotism 
 breathes like the undertone of an organ, through some 
 grand and soul-subduing anthem. His bitterest foes forgot 
 for awhile the animosity they had entertained against him, 
 and the hardest heart was touched by this last proof of de- 
 votion to his country. That address will never grow old. 
 It cannot be read at this day without awakening patriotism 
 in the dullest heart, and causing it to sigh over the ambition 
 and selfishness of our modern rulers. 
 
 John Adams was elected to fill his place, and he waited 
 to witness his inauguration. Afterward a grand parting 
 entertainment was given to Washington. Sparks relates 
 the following anecdote as coming from Bishop White : "On 
 the day before President Washington retired from office, a 
 large company dined with him. Among them were the 
 foreign ministers and their ladies, Mr. and Mrs. Adams, 
 Mr. Jefferson and other distinguished persons of both sexes. 
 During the day much hilarity prevailed, but on the removal 
 of the cloth, it was put an end to by the President, cer- 
 tainly without design. Having filled his glass, he addressed 
 the company, with a smile, as nearly as can be recollected 
 
LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 461 
 
 in tlic following words : * Ladies and gentlemen, this is the 
 last time I shall drink your health as a public man : I do it 
 with sincerity, wishing you all possible happiness.' There 
 was an end of all pleasantry. He who gives this relation, 
 accidentally directed his eye to the lady of the British 
 minister, Mrs. Liston, and tears were running down her 
 cheeks." 
 
 A simple citizen once more, he turned his weary footsteps 
 toward the quiet shades of Mount Vernon. But the people 
 knew no difference, he was still their father, and military 
 escorts, and crowds of men and women, blocked his way, 
 and he was borne by the huzzas and blessings of the people 
 almost to the gates of his dwelling. 
 
 It is difficult, at this remote period, to review in detail- his 
 aaministration, for it is impossible to conceive the difficul- 
 ties and embarrassments that surround an entirely new 
 government, whose foundation stones and whole structure 
 were so widely different from all others. Things which 
 now appear plain as noonday, had to be worked laboriously 
 up to the light, and the first rude form reduced from the 
 chaotic elements before the details could be furnished. It 
 is enough, however, to convince us of the wisdom and saga- 
 city of his administration, that a glorious future rested on 
 it as a base. No other man could have put us even on firm 
 footing, much less consolidated us into a sound government, 
 strong at home and respected abroad. 
 
 Much has been said of the hostile feeling entertained 
 toward Washington by Jefferson, and many charges and 
 criminations grew out of this animosity. These differences, 
 however, were chiefly political — the two stood at the head 
 of the great factions, Federalists and Democrats, and of course 
 differed toto ccclo in their views of government. Political 
 animosity, it is well known, is the most unsparing of all 
 hatreds, and yet it could not weaken the personal regard in 
 which Jefferson held Washington. Although, in the famous 
 
462 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 
 
 letter to Maggie, it is said he included Washington among 
 those whom he affirmed were forming the government on 
 aristocratic and monarchical principles, yet he declared that 
 "his integrity was most pure, his justice the most inflexible'^ 
 he had ever known. " He was indeed," said he, " in ever?/ 
 sense of the word, a ivise, a good, and a great man." Still he 
 let his political views warp too much his conduct, and Wash- 
 ington might justly feel, that the former had repaid kind- 
 ness with ingratitude, and confidence with suspicion. 
 
 One who had seen Washington at the capitol, invested 
 with power and the head of a great people, and afterward 
 watched him an industrious farmer, repairing his barns and 
 attending to his crops and cattle, would have obtained a 
 vivid conception of the genius of our institutions and the 
 simple grandeur of him who had founded them. 
 
 The year that followed his retirement from office was a 
 quiet routine of daily duties, and he thus makes one day 
 describe the whole. He rose with the sun and breakfasted 
 early. His morning meal being accomplished, he says, in a 
 letter to a friend, " I mount my horse and ride round my 
 farms, which employs me until it is time to dress for din- 
 ner, at which I rarely miss to see strange faces, come, as 
 they say, out of respect for me. And how different is this 
 from having a few social friends at a cheerful board. The 
 usual time for sitting at table, a walk and tea, bring me 
 within the dawn of candle-light, previous to which, if not 
 prevented by company, I resolve that as soon as the glim- 
 mering taper supplies the place of the great luminary, I 
 will retire to my writing-table and acknowledge the letters 
 I have received. Having given you the history of a day, 
 it will serve for a year." This, however, is a very incom- 
 plete account. The numberless deeds of charity — the con- 
 stant acts of kindness — the devotion to the interests of 
 others, especially to those of his country, which revealed 
 the soul and heart, are not recorded. The knowledge of 
 
LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 4G3 
 
 tliem scarcely lived in his own heart, for with him to do 
 good, was his natural life, so that acts of virtue were no 
 more noted by him than his i:)ulsations. But while en- 
 grossed in these quiet scenes, the driftings of that terrible 
 storm which was rocking Europe to its foundations, began 
 to be felt on these shores, and it seemed impossible that 
 this country should escape being drawn into its vortex. 
 The intolerant French Directory insulted our Minister, Mr. 
 Pinckney ; French cruisers plundered our commerce, and 
 indignities were heaped upon us that rendered farther indif- 
 ference impossible, if the country hoped to secure the 
 respect of nations. Preparations for war were therefore 
 set on foot, and all eyes were turned once more to the 
 nation's great leader to take again his place at the head of 
 the army. The President nominated him Commander-in- 
 Chief, and the Senate confirmed the nomination. Just 
 having struggled through a long life of toil and suffering, 
 and now treading the verge of the grave, a reentrance to 
 that life and struggle was painful in the extreme, yet to 
 the last, thinking only of his country's welfare, he declared 
 he would not entrench himself " under the cover of age and 
 retirement, if his services should be required in repelling 
 the enemy." He therefore accepted the appointment and 
 repaired to Philadelphia, and was soon again merged in 
 public affairs. 
 
 While here a little incident occurred, which exhibits in a 
 striking light one feature of Washington's character. Mr. 
 Logan had arrived as a sort of secret envoy from France, 
 sent here, it was supposed, at the instigation of Mr. Jeffer- 
 son. Our properly appointed plenipotentiary had gone over 
 to adjust, if possible, the differences of the two countries, 
 and this private underhand policy disgusted Washington. 
 The following account of the interview between him and 
 Mr. Logan, as furnished by his own memoranda of the visit, 
 
464 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 
 
 is interesting, from the strong light in which it displays the 
 characteristics of the two men. 
 
 " Tuesday, November 17th, 1778, Mr. Lear, our secretary, 
 being from our lodging on business, one of my servants came 
 into the room where I was writing, and informed me that a 
 gentleman in the parlor below desired to see me — no name 
 was sent up. In a few minutes I went down, and found 
 the Rev. Dr. Blackwell and Dr. Logan there. I advanced 
 toward and gave my hand to the former ; the latter did the 
 same toward me. 1 was backward in giving mine. He 
 possibly supposing from hence, that I did not recollect him, 
 said his name was Logan. Finally, in a very cool manner, 
 and with an air of marked indifference, I gave him my hand, 
 and asked Dr. Blackwell to he seated, the other took a seat at 
 the same time. I addressed a// my conversation to Dr. Black- 
 well ; the other all his to me, to which I only gave negative 
 or affirmative answers, as laconically as I could, except ask- 
 ing how Mrs. Logan did. He seemed disposed to be very 
 polite, and while Dr. Blackwell and myself were conversing 
 on the late calamitous fever, offered me an asylumn at his 
 house if it should return, or I thought myself in any dan- 
 ger in the city, and two or three rooms by way of accommo- 
 dation. I thanked him, slightly observing there would be 
 no call for it." Then follows some account of a conversation 
 on political matters, in which Washington, without depart- 
 ing from his freezing politeness, gave some home thrusts, 
 all of which however failed to disconcert the imperturbable 
 Logan. The whole interview evidently made a decided 
 impression on Washington, and chiefly, one would infer, 
 from being perhaps the only instance in his life in which 
 his manner, usually so impressive, or if he chose, crushing, 
 failed to disconcert the object toward which it was directed. 
 This Logan was evidently an extraordinary man, in his way 
 making up in impudence what he might lack in character 
 
LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 4G5 
 
 The minute details, as given by Washington, show that 
 the persevering poHteness with which the fellow met all 
 his studied coldness of manner, somewhat annoyed him. 
 The climax of impudence, however, was reached when he 
 replied to this lofty hauteur with the kind and charitable 
 invitation of protection and an asylum in his house. One 
 of these little bursts of light which sometimes falls on and 
 enlivens a whole picture,, is here thrown on Washington's 
 character, when, after saying, he answered him coolly and 
 laconically as he could, he adds, " except asking how Mrs. 
 Logan did." Here the true innate chivalry of the man 
 leaks out. 
 
 The organization of the army was a difficult matter and 
 went on slowly, yet the energy and skill he exhibited in 
 fitting it for active operations, showed that although verg- 
 ing on his threescore and ten, " his eye was not dim, nor 
 his natural force abated." 
 
 In the meantime, however, Bonaparte had vaulted to 
 power, and our plenipotentiaries at the French capital found 
 little difficulty with him in coming to terras of accommoda- 
 tion. But Washington never lived to see this great object 
 of his heart accomplis^lied. On the 12th of December, he 
 rode out to visit his farms as usual. But the day was cold 
 and rainy, and after several hours of exposure, he returned 
 wet and chilled. The next morning the ground was covered 
 with snow, and he remained at home. Toward evening he 
 complained of a sore throat, and his voice grew hoarse. 
 He was aware he had taken cold, but thought little of it, 
 and spent the evening reading the newspapers, and in social 
 conversation with his family. As he was retiring his pri- 
 vate secretary, Mr. Lear, advised him to take something for 
 his cold. He replied, " You know I never take anything 
 for colds ; let it go as it came," But in the night he awoke 
 with a chill, while the inflammation in his throat had 
 
 25 
 
^(^(j LIFE OF WASHINGTON 
 
 greatly increased and continued rapidly to grow woitfe, ao 
 that by morning his breathing was labored, and his voice 
 became so choked, that he could with difficulty articulate. 
 He sent for one of his overseers to bleed him, and then de- 
 spatched a messenger to Alexandria, nine miles oil', for his 
 old friend, Dr. Craik. The disease, however, made such rapid 
 progress, that the family became alarmed, and sent for Dr. 
 Brown, who resided near. But the remedies of these phy- 
 sicians, together with the aid of Dr. Dick, who arrived later 
 in the day, were powerless against the disease, which seemed 
 from the first to have taken complete mastery of its victim. 
 He was in the full vigor of life, and this sudden arresting of 
 nature in its course, made the last struggles doubly violent. 
 He lay and panted for breath, feeling, as the hours wore 
 slowly away, that each one carried him nearer to the point 
 of suffocation. But not a murmur escaped him. Calm and 
 resigned, he bore his sufferings with that serene composure 
 which had characterized him in all the trials of life. At 
 half past four in the morning he sent for Mrs. "Washington, 
 and requested her to bring two wills from his desk. She 
 did so. He then bade her burn one and keep the other. 
 At eight he got up and dressed and sat by the fire, but was 
 compelled immediately to lie down again. At noon he 
 made another attempt, but could not rise. As evening ap- 
 proached, he turned to Dr. Craik, and whispered, " / die 
 hard, but I am not afraid to die. I believed from my first 
 .attack that I should not survive it. My breath cannot last 
 long." The eflorts to relieve him aggravated very much 
 tis sufferings, while they were powerless to arrest the 
 disease. Feeling that they were wholly useless, he in a 
 feeble voice thanked the physicians for their kindness, but 
 requested them to desist and let him die quietly. Nothing 
 remained to be done, therefore, but to sit and watch the 
 steady but rapid ebbings of life. At ten he whispered in a 
 
LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 4G7 
 
 low, husky, scarcely articulate voice, " I am going — liave 
 me decently buried, and do not let my body be put in the 
 vault in less than three days after I am dead. Do you un- 
 derstand me? Well." It was fearful to see with what 
 ruthless power disease crushed that strong nature down. 
 But with perfect composure he withdrew his ' hand from 
 that of his secretary and placed it on his own pulse, as if to 
 count its last strokes. In a few moments his face chanired, 
 his hand slipped from his wrist, and he ceased to breathe. 
 Mrs. Washington, who was sitting on the foot of the bed, 
 turned to the doctor and asked, " Is he gone ?" "Yes," was 
 the reply. " 'Tis well all is over. I shall soon follow him ; 
 I have no more trials to pass through." His breath grew 
 shorter and feebler every moment, till a little after ten, 
 when he ceased to breathe. As they looked on the lifeless 
 form, it seemed scarcely possible that one, strong and 
 healthy the day before, had really passed away, and death 
 seemed doubly terrible, when with one quick blow it could 
 carry so much to the grave. He went out with the cen- 
 tury that gave him to the world ; and as his life had gilded 
 its progress, so his death darkened its close, and hung 
 weeds of mourning round the one that was dawning. 
 
 The account of his sickness and death were received at 
 the same time in almost every part of the Union, and the 
 njition was paralyzed. Solemn ceremonies attended the 
 funeral, and a long procession accompanied the body to the 
 tomb. Minute guns were fired as it sadly wound its way 
 through the wintry grove, and his old war horse, saddled 
 and bridled, walked riderless beside the coffin. The noble 
 steed he would never mount again, and to that cold cheek 
 the sullen guns would never send the blood, as of yore. 
 His work was finished — his battles were over — and the 
 more than Emperor laid in the peaceful sepulchre. As the 
 sad news slowly traveled over the land, a ciy of bitter an- 
 guish followed it, for sudden darkness had fallen on the 
 
468 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 
 
 nation, a calamity overtaken it, for which there seemed no 
 remedy and no solace. The people were his children — and 
 they mourned him as orphans. Even the young Republic 
 of France, then struggling for life, put on crape, and for ten 
 days all the flags and standards wore mourning, as though 
 some great national loss had been sustained. The young 
 Napoleon, flushed with victory, issued the following order 
 of the day to his army : " Washington is dead. This great 
 man fought against tyranny ; he established the liberty of 
 his country. His memory will always be dear to the French 
 people, as it will be to all freemen of the two worlds ; and 
 especially to French soldiers, who, like him and the Ameri- 
 can soldiers, have combated for liberty and equality." On 
 the same day the trophies brought from Egypt were dis- 
 played in the Champ de Mars. After the splendid pageant 
 was over, Bonaparte, with all the civil and military autho- 
 rities of Paris, and accompanied by the most illustrious 
 generals of his army, repaired to the Temple of Mars, now 
 the Hotel des Invalids, to hear a funeral eulogium on Wash- 
 ington, by M. de Fontaine. When the news of his death 
 was received on board the vessel of Lord Bridport, then 
 commanding the British fleet, composed of nearly sixty 
 ships of the line, lying at Torbay, he lowered his flag half- 
 mast in token of mourning. Every ship followed his ex- 
 ample.* Nothing can illustrate the grandeur and elevation 
 of Washington's character more, than these tokens of respect 
 from nations with whom we were on the verge of hostihties. 
 The history of the race furnishes no such instance. Over 
 the hatred and prejudices engendered by war — over faction, 
 and falsehood, and detraction — that character rises so pure 
 and exalted, that the worst passions of man, his deepest 
 settled prejudices, shrink from assailing it ; nay, humbled 
 and rebuked, reluctantly do it reverence. 
 
 Vide Sparks' Life of Washington. 
 
WASHINGTON AS A FARMER. 
 
LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 471 
 
 CHARACTER OF WASHINGTON. 
 
 No one, in tracing the history of our struggle, can deny 
 that Providence watched over our interests, and gave us the 
 only man who could have conducted the car of the revolu- 
 tion to the goal it finally reached. That revolution, from 
 its incipient movements to its final close, was the most 
 remarkable that ever occurred in human history. The 
 principle of personal freedom had its birth in the teachings 
 of Christ. From that time on, through all the changes 
 of religious and political life, man struggled to make this 
 principle practical. But at the first moment of success he 
 was frightened back by the pathless, untrodden, and bound- 
 less field that stretched out before him. On this conti- 
 nent it began in asserting that taxation and representation 
 should go together. But parsing from this narrow basis to 
 freer and broader grounds, it at length made a clean sweep 
 of kings and titles and privileges of every class, and a com- 
 mon farmer presided over the destinies of a republic that 
 acknowledged no law but the will of the people. From 
 the time Washington entered on his duties as commander- 
 in-chief, to the close of the war, he moves before us like 
 some grand embodiment of virtue and power. To quote 
 the language used by myself on another occasion — whether 
 bowed in fasting and prayer before God in behalf of his 
 country, or taking the fate of the American army on his 
 brave heart — whether retreating before the overwhelming 
 numbers of the enemy, or pouring his furious squadrons to 
 the charge — whether lost in anxious thought, as his eye 
 geeks in vain for some ray amid the gloomy prospect that 
 surrounds him, or struggling amid the broken ice of the 
 angry Delaware, in the midst of the wintry storm — whether 
 galloping into the deadly volleys of the enemy in the strong 
 effort to restore the fight, or wearing the wreath of victory 
 which a grateful nation placed with mingled tears andaccla- 
 
472 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 
 
 mations on his brow, he is the same self-collected, noble- 
 minded and resolute man. 
 
 Perhaps there never was a public character so little 
 understood in the various qualities that go to make it up as 
 that of Washington. He is called the father of his country, 
 and that phrase is supposed to embrace the entire man. 
 We contemplate the perfected, finished character, nevei 
 thinking of the formation state. We look at the fruit alone, 
 without asking what kind of blossom produced it. 
 
 Notwithstanding men's intimacy with human character, 
 they will insist that an extraordinary one, whether good or 
 bad, must be an exception to general rules — from the outset 
 a monstrosity either in vice or virtue. But a great and 
 good man is as much the result of growth as a tree. It 
 passes through different stages, indeed through errors, ac- 
 quires virtue by self-control, and wisdom by experience, and 
 so matures gradually. 
 
 There are certain moral qualities which adhere to one 
 through life, and do not change amid all the vicissitudes to 
 which he is exposed. An utterly selfish boy, is usually a 
 selfish man ; and a child of generous and noble impulses, no 
 matter to what depravity he may in other respects descend, 
 generally retains those characteristics to the last. So Wash- 
 ington had as high a sense of honor when a boy as when a 
 man ; was just as elevated and unselfish in his feelings at 
 sixteen, as at sixty ; but in all other respects he was totally 
 different. In later years, repose and calm dignity were 
 his great characteristics — in youth, ardor, enthusiasm, and 
 love of adventure. In the former period of his life, peace 
 was his desire and delight, while in earlier days, he loved 
 the excitement of war and the scope it gave to his untried 
 energies. In youth, the clangor of battle was music to his 
 ears, but in riper age there was no sound so sweet to him 
 as the song of the husbandman. 
 
 Washington might have been just as good, but never so 
 
LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 473 
 
 great a man, had lie possessed the same mildness and quiet- 
 ness of character in his childhood that marked his later 
 manhood. A certain amount of combativeness — destruc- 
 tiveness, some may term it — is absolutely necessary to give 
 a man energy, self-determination, and power. Every good 
 and great man, from Moses to Paul, and Paul to Luther, has 
 possessed it — much more, every wicked, ambitious spirit 
 which has succeeded in changing the world. A warm and 
 fiery heart is indispensable to great resolution and force. 
 This Washington possessed. Cool and correct in judgment, 
 yet quick in his impulses ; methodical and clear in all his 
 business arrangements, yet bold and fearless in danger, he 
 possessed the basis of a strong and elevated character. At 
 times during his career, he was exceedingly impetuous, and 
 on a few occasions his passions burst through all control. 
 His whole appearance then became terrible, and the be- 
 holder shrunk appalled from his presence. But these vol- 
 canic exhibitions were of rarest occurrence, and served only 
 to indicate the fire that was slumbering below. Without 
 them we should never have known how marvelous was his 
 self-control. He that ridcth his spirit, and not he that ha>v 
 no spirit to rule, is the truly great man. It is one of the 
 astonishing features of his life, that amid the perfect chaos 
 of feeling into which he was thrown — amid the distracted 
 counsels, and still more distracted affairs that surrounded 
 him, he kept the perfect equilibrium of his own mind. 
 The contagion of fear and doubt could not touch him. In 
 this respect he did not seem susceptible to the common in- 
 fluences which affect men. His soul, poised on its own 
 centre, reposed calmly there amid all the tumult and turbu- 
 lence that shook the land. The ingratitude and folly of 
 those who should have been his friends, the insults of his 
 foes, and the frowns of fortune, could not provoke him into 
 rash acts or delude him into error. 
 
 His constancy and firmness were equal to his self-control. 
 
474 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 
 
 The changeless aspect and steadfast heart he maintained 
 during those seven years of trouble and gloom, which make 
 up the history of the revolution, will be a wonder to the 
 end of time. Cast down by no reverses, elated by no suc- 
 cesses, he could neither be driven into despondency, nor 
 carried away by extravagant hopes. But doubtless the 
 trials which tested his firmness most, were those which we 
 are least able to appreciate. Those outward public calami- 
 ties which all can see, and in which w^e know we have the 
 sympathies of the good, can be more easily borne than in- 
 gratitude, injustice, suspicion and slander, from those we 
 are striving to benefit. Amid disorganized, disbanding 
 armies — amid cabals formed against him — falsehoods circu- 
 lated about him, jealousies of Congress — amid open accusa- 
 tions and implied doubts of his virtue and capacity, he 
 moved calmly yet resolutely forward in the path of duty. 
 This fortitude under calamities, firm courage in the midst 
 of reverses, and unshaken constancy in every trial to which 
 human nature is subjected, prove him to have possessed a 
 soul of amazing strength, and a faith in the right never 
 surpassed. 
 
 Another striking trait in Washington's character, was the 
 sway he exercised over other men. No one approached 
 him without feeling this magical influence. A vast and 
 comprehensive mind, which seems both to understand and 
 embrace those about it, must, of necessity, exert great con- 
 trol. Besides, there was that evidence of slumbering 
 power, of transcendent elevation of character, of resistless 
 will, of fearlessness and strength, in his very presence, that 
 made every spirit bend before him. 
 
 As a military man, Washington stands in the first rank 
 of great commanders. He possessed every quality that 
 goes to the formation of one. Courage was never more 
 completely impersonified than in him. The bravest, said 
 Napoleon, had his moment de peur — moment of fear. But 
 
LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 475 
 
 one cannot point to the sj)ot in Washington's career, where 
 his firmness and coohiess for an instant forsook him. To 
 this was added that high chivalric feeling prompting a man 
 in jDerilous crises to deeds of personal heroism. When the 
 hour demanding them arrived,- the most perilous and des- 
 perate feats of valor were performed by him, that are found 
 recorded in the history of war. 
 
 Another very important quality — the power in a com- 
 mander to win the love and confidence of his troops, no one 
 possessed in a more remarkable degree than he. Such 
 devotion and love, amid starvation and want and neglect, 
 were never before witnessed. Washington, at Valley 
 Forge, holding the troops to him hy the power of love 
 alone, attracts the wonder and admiration of the world. 
 
 Caution and promptness combined in a leader, make him 
 a strong adversary in the field. To be tempted into no 
 rashness, yet show no hesitation or delay — to commit no 
 error himself, yet be prompt as a thunderbolt in taking ad- 
 vantage of one committed by another — are requisites rarely 
 found, and yet possessed by Washington in a remarkable 
 degree. 
 
 A moral firmness., which neither defeat nor difficulties, 
 nor the most protracted and exhausting labor can discourage 
 or force into cessation of effort, is rarely possesssed by any 
 leader, yet this never for a moment forsook Washington. 
 
 In moral elevation, no warrior of ancient or modern times 
 approaches him. Given to no excess himself, he sternly 
 rebuked it in others. The principles of religion were 
 deeply engrafted in his heart ; and as there was no stain on 
 his blade, he could go from the fierce fought field to the 
 sacramental table. That brow, which would have awed a 
 Roman Senate in its proudest days, bent in the dust before 
 his Maker. A Brutus in justice, he did not allow personal 
 friendship to sway his decision, or influence him in the be- 
 stowment of his favors. Sincere in all his declarations, his 
 
47G LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 
 
 word was never doubted, and his promise never broken. 
 Intrusted finally with almost supreme power, he never 
 abused it, and laid it down at last more cheerfully than he 
 had taken it up. Bonaparte, vaulting to supreme command, 
 seized it with avidity, and wielded it without restraint. 
 The Directory obstructing his plans, he broke it up with the 
 bayonet. Cromwell did the same with the Rump Parlia- 
 ment, and installed himself Protector of England, and even 
 hesitated long about the title of king. Washington, fettered 
 more than both, submitted to defeat and disappointment, 
 without using a disrespectful word to the congress that 
 abused him, and rejected the offered crown with a sternness 
 and indignation that forever crushed the hopes of those who 
 presented it. Calm and strong in council, untiring in effort, 
 wise in policy, terrible as a storm in battle, and incorrup- 
 tible in virtue, he rises in moral grandeur so fiir above the 
 Alexanders, and CiBsars, and Napoleons of the world, that 
 even comparison seems injustice. But the crowning glory 
 of his character Avas his patriotism. This was so pure, so 
 unmixed with any selfishness, that the breath of suspicion 
 never sullied it, and no ingratitude or wrong could for a 
 moment weaken its force. It was like the love of a father 
 for his son, that neither injuries nor neglect can shake. 
 Exposing himself to present suspicion rather than peril his 
 country — weakening and endangering his own army to aid 
 his lieutenants — rejoicing in the victories and renown of 
 others more than in his own, so that the land he loved 
 better than his life, might be saved, he stands before us in 
 all the harmonious proportions that make a complete man. 
 
 It has often troubled good men that Washington made 
 no mention of religion in his last moments. But a man's 
 life, not his dying speeches, must be the criterion by which 
 we judge him. One who has studied Washington's character 
 well, would be more surprised to hear him express greater 
 religious feeling on his death-bed than in ordinary life, than 
 
LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 477 
 
 to hear him express less. To such a man as he, and one 
 who had for his whole life faced death in every form, that 
 last solemn hour could give no new revelations, awaken no 
 new emotions. For years it had made no difference to him, 
 he said, at what hour he was taken away. He had placed 
 himself in the hands of God, and given the time of his de- 
 parture no further thought. Besides, Washington never 
 expressed to any one those emotions and thoughts which 
 concerned himself alone. No man kept a more full and 
 com^Dlete diary, and yet throughout, there never leaks out 
 by any accident, any of those soul utterances which it 
 seems impossible, under all circumstances, to suppress. His 
 inward life he never revealed, and to expect that he would 
 make that portion of it into which religion entered an ex- 
 ception, is evidently unreasonable. His views and belief he 
 never concealed — they were all emphatically religious ; but 
 his EXPERIENCE was his own, and it was known to no one 
 but God. 
 
WASHINGTON'S FAREWELL ADDRESS. 
 
 Friends and Fellow-Citizens — 
 
 The period for the new election of a citizen, to administer the executive 
 government of the United States, being not far distant, and the time actually 
 arrived when your thoughts must be employed in designating the person who 
 is to be clothed with that important trust, it appears to me proper, especially 
 as it may conduce to a more distinct expression of the public voice, that I 
 should now apprise you of the resolution I have formed, to decline being 
 considered among the number of those out of whom a choice is to be made. 
 I beg you, at the same time, to do me the justice to be assured, that this res- 
 olution has not been taken without a strict regard to all the considerations 
 appertaining to the relations which bind a dutiful citizen to his country ; and 
 that, in withdrawing the tender of service which silence in my situation 
 might imply, I am influenced by no diminution of zeal for your future in- 
 terest — no deficiency of grateful respect for your past kindness ; but am sup- 
 ported by a full conviction that the step is compatible with both. 
 
 The acceptance of, and continuance hitherto in, the office to which your 
 suffrages have twice called me, have been a uniform sacrifice of inclination 
 to the opinion of duty and to a deference for what appeared to be your 
 desire. I constantly hoped that it would have been much earlier in my 
 power, consistently with motives which I was not at liberty to disregard, to 
 return to that retirement from which I have been reluctantly drawn. The 
 strength of my inclination to do this, previous to the last election, had even 
 led to the preparation of an address to declare it to you ; but mature reflec- 
 tion on the then perplexed and critical posture of our afluiirs with foreign 
 nations, and the unanimous advice of persons entitled to my confidence, im- 
 pelled me to abandon the idea. 
 
 I rejoice that the state of your concerns, external as well as internal, no 
 longer renders the pursuit of inclination incompatible with the sentiment of 
 duty or propriety ; and am persuaded, whatever partiality may be retained 
 for my services, that in the present circumstances of our country, you will 
 not disapprove my determination to retire. 
 
 The impressions with which I first undertook the arduous task, were ex- 
 plained on the proper occasion. In the discharge of this trust, I will only 
 say, that I have, with good intentions, contributed toward the organization 
 and administration of the government, the best exertions of which a very 
 fallible judgment was capable. Not unconscious, in the outset, of the inferi- 
 
WASHINGTON'S FAREWELL ADDRESS. 4*79 
 
 ority of my qualifications, experience in my own eyes, perhaps still more in 
 the eyes of others, has strengthened the motives to diffidence of myself; 
 and, every day, the increasing weight of years admonishes me more and 
 more that the shade of retirement is as necessary to me as it will be wel- 
 come. Satisfied that if any circumstances have given peculiar value to my 
 services, they were temporary, I have the consolation to believe, that while 
 choice and prudence invite me to quit the political scene, patriotism does not 
 forbid it. 
 
 In looking forward to the moment which is intended to terminate the 
 career of my public life, my feelings do not permit me to suspend the deep 
 acknowledgment of that debt of gratitude which I owe to my beloved 
 country, for the many honors it has conferred upon me ; still more for the 
 steadfast confidence with which it has supported me ; and for the opportuni- 
 ties I have thence enjoyed of manifesting my inviolable attachment, by ser- 
 vices faithful and persevering, though in usefulness unequal to my zeal. If 
 benefits have resulted to our country from these services, let it always be re- 
 membered to your praise and as an instructive example in our annals, that 
 under circumstances in which the passions, agitated in every direction, were 
 liable to mislead, amid appearances sometimes dubious — vicissitudes of 
 fortune often discouraging — in situations in which not unfrequently want of 
 success has countenanced the spirit of criticism — the constancy of your sup- 
 port was the essential prop of the efforts, and the guaranty of the plans by 
 which they were effected. 
 
 Profoundly penetrated with this idea, I shall carry it with me to my 
 grave, as a strong incitement to unceasing vows that Heaven may continue 
 to you the choicest tokens of its benevolence — that your union and brotherly 
 affection may be perpetual — that the free Constitution, which is the work of 
 your hands, may be sacredly maintained — that its administration in every 
 department may be stamped with wisdom and virtue — that, in fine, the hap- 
 piness of the people of these States, under the auspices of liberty, may bo 
 made complete, by so careful a preservation, and so prudent a use of this 
 blessing, as will acquire to them the glory of recommending it to the ap- 
 plause of every nation which is yet a stranger to it. 
 
 Here, perhaps, I ought to stop. But a solicitude for your welfare, which 
 cannot end but with my life, and the apprehension of danger, natural to 
 that solicitude, urge me, on an occasion like the present, to offer to your 
 solemn contemplation, and to recommend to your frequent review, some sen- 
 timents ; which are the result of much reflection, of no inconsiderable obser- 
 vation, and which appear to me all-important to the permanency of your 
 felicity as a people. These will be offered to you with the more freedom, as 
 you can only see in them the disinterested warnings of a parting friend, who 
 can possibly have no personal motives to bias his counsel. Nor can I forget 
 as an encouragement to it, your indulgent reception of my sentiments on a 
 former and not dissimilar occasion. Interwoven as is the love of liberty with 
 
480 WASHINGTON'S FAREWELL ADDRESS. 
 
 every ligament of your hearts, no recommendation of mine is necessary to for- 
 tify or confirm the attachment. 
 
 The unity of government which constitutes you one people, is also now 
 dear to me. It is justly so ; for it is a main pillar in the edifice of your real 
 independence, the support of your tranquillity at home, your peace abroad ; 
 of your safety ; of your prosperity ; of that very liberty which you so highly 
 prize. But as it is easy to foresee, that from difierent causes and from differ- 
 ent quarters, much pains will be taken, many artifices employed, to weaken 
 in your minds the conviction of this truth ; as this is the point in your poli- 
 tical fortress against which the batteries of internal and external enemies will 
 be most constantly and actively (though often covertly and insidiously) di- 
 rected, it is of infinite moment that you should properly estimate the im- 
 mense value of your national Union to your collective and individual happi- 
 ness ; that you should cherish a cordial, habitual, and immovable attachment 
 to it ; accustoming yourselves to think and speak of it as of the Palladium 
 of your political safety and prosperity ; watching for its preservation with 
 jealous anxiety; discountenancing whatever may suggest even a suspicion 
 that it can in any event be abandoned ; and indignantly frowning upon the 
 first dawning of every attempt to alienate any portion of our country from 
 the rest, or to enfeeble the sacred ties which now link together the various 
 parts. 
 
 For this you have every inducement of sympathy and interest. Citizens 
 by birth or choice, of a common country, that country has a right to con- 
 centrate your aflfections. The name of America, which belongs to you in 
 your national capacity, must always exalt the just pride of patriotism, more 
 than any appellation derived from local discriminations. With slight shades 
 of diflference, you have the same religion, manners, habits, and political 
 principles. You have in a common cause, fought and triumphed together ; 
 the independence and liberty you possess are the work of joint councils and 
 joint efforts, of common dangers, sufferings, and successes. But these consid- 
 erations, however powerfully they address themselves to your sensibility, are 
 greatly outweighed by those which apply more immediately to your interest 
 — here every portion of our country finds the most commanding motives for 
 carefully guarding and preserving the Union of the whole. 
 
 The North^ in an unrestrained intercourse with the South, protected by 
 the equal laws of a common government, finds in the productions of the 
 latter, great additional resources of maritime and commercial enterprise and 
 precious materials of manufacturing industry. The South, in the same in- 
 tercourse, benefiting by the agency of the North, sees its agriculture grow 
 and its commerce expand. Turning partly into its own channels the seamen 
 of the North, it finds its particular navigation invigorated ; and while it con- 
 tributes, in different ways, to nourish and increase the general mass of the 
 national navigation, it looks forward to the protection of a maritime 
 strength, to which itself is unequally adapted. The East, in a like inter- 
 
WASHINGTON'S FAREWELL ADDRESS. 481 
 
 course with the West, already finds, and in the progressive improvement of 
 interior communications, by land and water, will more and more find a val- 
 uable vent for the commodities which it brings from abroad, or manufactures 
 at home. The West derives from the Hast supplies requisite to its growth 
 and comfort — and what is perhaps of still greater consequence, it must of 
 necessity owe the secure enjoyment of indispensable outlets for its own pro- 
 ductions to the weight, influence, and the future maritime strength of the 
 Atlantic side of the Union, directed by an indissoluble community of inter- 
 est as ONE NATION. Any other tenure by which the West can hold this es- 
 sential advantage, whether derived from its own separate strength, or from 
 an apostate and unnatural connection with any foreign power, must be in- 
 trinsically precarious. 
 
 While, then, every part of our country thus feels an immediate and partic- 
 tilar interest in union, all the parties combined cannot fail to find in the united 
 mass of means and efibrts, greater strength, greater resource, proportionably 
 greater security from external danger, a less frequent interruption of their peace 
 by foreign nations ; and, what is of inestimable value ! they must derive from 
 union an exemption from those broils and wars between themselves, which so 
 frequently afflict neighboring countries not tied together by the same gov- 
 ernment; which their own rivalships alone would be sufficient to produce, 
 but which opposite foreign alliances, attachments, and intrigues would stimu- 
 late and embitter. Hence likewise they will avoid the necessity of those 
 overgrown military establishments, which, under any form of government, 
 are inauspicious to liberty, and which are to be regarded as particularly hos- 
 tile to Republican Liberty ; in this sense it is, that your Union ought to be 
 considered as a main prop of your liberty, and that the love of the one 
 ought to endear to you the preservation of the other. 
 
 These considerations speak a persuasive language to every reflecting and 
 virtuous mind, and exhibit the continuance of the Union as a primary object 
 of patriotic desire. Is there a doubt whether a common government can 
 embrace so large a sphere? Let experience solve it. To listen to mere 
 speculation in such a case were criminal. We are authorized to hope that a 
 proper organization of the whole, with the auxiliary agency of government 
 for the respective subdivisions, will aff"ord a happy issue to the experiment. 
 'Tis well worth a fair and full experiment. With such powerful and obvious 
 motives to Union, affecting all parts of our country, while experience shall 
 not have demonstrated its impracticability, there will always be reason to dis- 
 trust the patriotism of those who in any quarter may endeavor to weaken its 
 bands. 
 
 In contemplating the causes which may disturb our Union, it occurs as a 
 matter of serious concern, that any ground should have been furnished for 
 characterizing parties by geographical discriminations — northern and south- 
 ern — Atlantic and western ; whence designing men may endeavor to excite 
 a belief that there is a real difi'erence of local interests and views. One of 
 
482 WASHINGTON'S FAREWELL ADDRESS. 
 
 the expedients of party to acquire influence within particular districts, is to 
 misrepresent the opinions and aims of other districts. You cannot shield 
 yourselves too much against the jealousies and heart-burnings which spring 
 from those misrepresentations : they tend to render alien to each other those 
 who ought to be bound together by fraternal affection. The inhabitants of 
 our western country have lately had a useful lesson on this head ; they have 
 seen in the negotiation by the Executive, and in the unanimous ratification 
 by the Senate, of the treaty with Spain, and in the universal satisfaction at 
 that event throughout the United States, a decisive proof how unfounded 
 were the suspicions propagated among them, of a policy in the General 
 Government and in the Atlantic States unfriendly to their interests in regard 
 to the Mississippi ; they have been witnesses to the formation of two treaties 
 — that with Great Britain and that with Spain — which secure to them every 
 thing they could desire, in respect to our foreign relations, toward confirming 
 their prosperity. Will it not be their wisdom to rely for the preservation of 
 those advantages on the Union by which they were procured ? Will they 
 not henceforth be deaf to those advisers, if such there are, who would sever 
 thorn fram their brethren, and connect them with aliens? 
 
 To the efficacy and permanency of your Union, a government for the 
 whole is indispensable. No alliances, however strict, between the parts, can 
 be an adequate substitute ; they must inevitably experience the infractions 
 and interruptions which all alliances in all times have experienced. Sensi- 
 ble of this momentous truth, you have improved upon your first essay, by 
 the adoption of a Constitution of government better calculated than your 
 former for an intimate Union, and for the efficacious management of your 
 common concerns. This government, the offspring of our own choice, unin- 
 fluenced and unawed, adopted upon full investigation and mature delibera- 
 tion, completely free in its principles, in the distribution of its powers, uniting 
 security with energy, and containing within itself a provision for its own 
 amendment, has a just claim to your confidence and your support. Respect 
 for its authority, compliance with its laws, acquiescence in its measures, are 
 duties enjoined by the fundamental maxims of true Liberty. The basis of 
 our political systems is the right of the people to make and to alter their Con- 
 stitutions of Government ; but the Constitution which at any time exists, till 
 changed by an explicit and authentic act of the whole people, is sacredly ob- 
 ligatory upon all. The very idea of the power and the right of the people 
 to establish government, presupposes the duty of every individual to obey 
 the established government. 
 
 - All obstructions to the execution of the laws, all combinations and asso- 
 ciations, under whatever plausible character, with the real design to direct, 
 control, counteract, or awe the regular deliberation and action of the consti- 
 tuted authorities, arc destructive to this fundamental principle, and of fatal 
 tendency. They serve to organize faction, to give it an artificial and extra- 
 ordinary force — to put in the place of the delegated will of theiiation, the 
 
WASHINGTON'S FAREWELL ADDRESS. 483 
 
 will of a party, often a small but artful and enterprising minority of the com- 
 munity ; and, according to tlie alternate triumphs of diflferent parties, to 
 make the public administration the mirror of the ill-concerted and incongru- 
 ous projects of faction, rather than the organ of consistent and wholesome 
 plans, digested by common councils, and modified by mutual interests. How- 
 ever combinations or associations of the above description may now and then 
 answer popular ends, they are likely, in the course of time and things, to be- 
 come potent engines, by which cunning, ambitious, and unprincipled men 
 will be enabled to subvert the power of the people, and to usurp for them- 
 selves the reins of government ; destroying afterward the very engines which 
 have lifted them to unjust dominion. 
 
 Toward the preservation of your government, and the permanency of 
 your present happy state, it is requisite, not only that you speedily discoun- 
 tenance irregular oppositions to its acknowledged authority, but also that you 
 resist with care the spirit of innovation upon its principles, however specious 
 the pretexts. One method of assault may be to effect, in the forms of the 
 Constitution, alterations which impair the energy of the system, and thus to 
 undermine what cannot directly be overthrown. In all the changes to which 
 you may be invited, remember that time and habit are at least as necessary 
 to fix the true character of governments as of other human institutions — 
 that experience is the surest standard by which to test the real tendency of 
 the existing Constitution of a country — that facility in changes upon the 
 credit of mere hypothesis and opinion, exposes to perpetual change from the 
 endless variety of hypothesis and opinion ; and remember, especially, thai, 
 for the efficient management of your common interests, in a country so ex- 
 tensive as ours, a government of as much vigor as is consistent with the per- 
 fect security of liberty, is indispensable. Liberty itself will find in such a 
 government, with powers properly distributed and adjusted, its surest guard 
 ian. It is, indeed, little else than a name, where the government is toO' 
 feeble to withstand the enterprise of faction, to confine each member of the 
 society within the limits prescribed by the laws, and to maintain all in the se- 
 cure and tranquil enjoyment of the rights of person and property. 
 
 I have already intimated to you the danger of parties in the State, with 
 particular reference to the founding of them on geographical discriminations. 
 Let me now take a more comprehensive view, and warn you in the most 
 solemn manner against the baneful effects of the spirit of party, generally. 
 This spirit, unfortunately, is inseparable from our nature, having its root in 
 the strongest passions of the human mind. It exists under different shapes 
 in all governments, more or less stifled, controlled or repressed ; but in those 
 of the popular form, it is seen in its greatest rankness, and is truly their 
 worst enemy. The alternate domination of one faction over another, sharp- 
 ened by the spirit of revenge, natural to party dissension, which, in different 
 ages and countries, has perpetrated the most horrid enormities, is itself a 
 frightful despotism. But this leads at length to a more formal and perma 
 
484 WASHINGTON'S FAREWELL ADDRESS. 
 
 nent despotism. Tlie disorders and miseries which result, gradually incline 
 the minds of men to seek security and repose in the absolute power of an in- 
 dividual ; and sooner or later, the chief of some prevailing faction, more able 
 or more fortunate than his competitor, turns this disposition to the purposes 
 of his own elevation, on the ruins of public liberty. 
 
 Without looking forward to an extremity of this kind (which, neverthe- 
 less, ought not to be entirely out of sight,) the common and continual mis- 
 chiefs of the spirit of party are sufficient to make it the interest and duty of 
 a wise people to discourage and restrain it. It serves always to distract the 
 public councils and enfeeble the public administration. It agitates the com- 
 munity with ill-founded jealousies and false alarms; kindles the animosity of 
 one part against another ; foments occasionally riot and insurrection. It 
 opens the door to foreign influence and corruption, which find a facilitated 
 access to the government itself through the channels of party passions. Thus 
 the policy and the will of one country are subjected to the policy and the 
 will of another. 
 
 There is an opinion that parties in free countries are useful checks upon 
 the administration of the government, and serve to keep alive the spirit of 
 liberty. This within certain limits is probably true ; and in governments ot 
 a monarchical cast, patriotism may look with indulgence, if not with favor 
 npon the spirit of party. But in those of the popular character, in govern- 
 ments purely elective, it is a spirit not to be encouraged. From their natural 
 tendency, it is certain there will always be enough of that spirit for every 
 salutary purpose. And there being constant danger of excess, the effort 
 ought to be by force of public opinion, to mitigate and assuage it. A fire 
 not to be quenched ; it demands a uniform vigilance to prevent its bursting 
 into a flame, lest, instead of warming, it should consume. 
 
 It is important, likewise, that the habits of thinking, in a free country, 
 should inspire caution in those intrusted with its administration, to confine 
 themselves within their respective constitutional spheres, avoiding, in the ex- 
 ercise of the powers of one department, to encroach upon another. The 
 spirit of encroachment tends to consolidate the powers of all the departments 
 in one, and thus to create, whatever the form of government, a real despot- 
 ism. A just estimate of that love of power, and proneness to abuse it, which 
 predominates in the human heart, is sufficient to satisfy us of this position. 
 The necessity of reciprocal checks in the exercise of political power, by di- 
 viding and distributing it into diff"erent depositories, and constituting each 
 the guardian of public weal against invasions by the others, has been evinced 
 by experiments ancient and modern : some of them in our country and 
 nnder our own eyes. To preserve them must be as necessary as to institute 
 them. If, in the opinion of the people, the distribution or modification of 
 the constitutional powers be in any particular wrong, let it be corrected by 
 an amendment in the way which the Constitution designates. But let there 
 hp, no change by usurpation ; for though this, in one instance, may be the 
 
WASHINGTON'S FAREWELL ADDRESS. 485 
 
 instrument of good, it is the customary weapon by wliicli free governments 
 are destroyed. The precedent must always greatly overbalance in perma- 
 nent evil any partial or transient benefit which the use can at any time 
 yield. 
 
 Of all the dispositions and habits which lead to political prosperity, re- 
 ligion and morality are indispensable supports. In vain would that man 
 claim the tribute of patriotism, who should, labor to subvert these great pil- 
 lars of human happiness, these firmest props of the duties of men and citi- 
 zens. The mere politician, equally with the pious man, ought to respect 
 and to cherish them. A volume could not trace all their connections with 
 private and public felicity. Let it simply be asked where is the security for 
 property, for reputation, for life, if the sense of religious obligation desert 
 the oaths, which are the instruments of investigation in courts of justice ; 
 and let us with caution indulge the supposition, that morality can be main- 
 tained without religion. Whatever may be conceded to the influence of 
 refined education on minds of peculiar structure, reason and experience both 
 forbid us to expect that national morality can prevail in exclusion of religious 
 principle. It is substantially true, that virtue or morality is a necessary spring 
 of popular government. The rule, indeed, extends with more or less force to 
 every species of free government. Who that is a sincere friend to it can look 
 with indifference upon attempts to shake the foundation of the fabric ? 
 
 Promote, then, as an object of primary importance, institutions for the 
 general diffusion of knowledge. In proportion as the structure of a govern- 
 ment gives force to public opinion, it is essential that public opinion should 
 be enlightened. As a very important source of strength and security, cherish 
 public credit ; one method of preserving it is to use it as sparingly as possi- 
 ble ; avoiding occasions of expense by cultivating peace ; but remembering, 
 also, that timely disbursements to prepare for danger, frequently prevent 
 much greater disbursements to repel it ; avoiding, likewise, the accumulations 
 of debt, not only by shunning occasions of expense, but by vigorous exertions 
 in time of peace to discharge the debts which unavoidable wars may have 
 occasioned, not ungenerously throwing upon posterity the burdens which we 
 ourselves ought to bear. The execution of these maxims belongs to your 
 Representatives, but it is necessary that public opinion should co-operate. 
 To facilitate to them the performance of their duty, it is essential that you 
 should practically bear in mind, that toward the payment of debts there must 
 be revenue ; that to have revenue there must be taxes ; that no taxes can be 
 devised which are not more or less inconvenient and unpleasant; and the 
 intrinsic embarrassment inseparable from the selection of the proper object 
 (which is always a choice of difficulties) ought to be a decisive motive for the 
 candid construction of the conduct of the government in making it, and for 
 a spirit of acquiescence in the measures for obtaining revenue which the pub- 
 lic exigencies may at any time dictate. 
 
 Observe good faith and justice toward all nations ; cultivate peace and 
 
486 WASHINGTON'S FAREWELL ADDRESS. 
 
 harmony -with all; religion and morality enjoin this conduct ; and can it be 
 that good policy does not equally enjoin it? It will be worthy of a free, 
 enlightened, and at no distant period, a great nation, to give to mankind the 
 magnanimous and too novel example of a people always guided by an exalted 
 justice and benevolence. Who can doubt that in the course of time and 
 things, the fruits of such a plan would richly repay any temporary advan- 
 tages which might be lost by a steady adherence to it ? Can it be that Provi- 
 dence has not connected the permanent felicity of a nation with its virtue ? 
 The experiment, at least, is recommended by every sentiment which ennobles 
 human nature. Alas ! is it rendered impossible by its vices ? 
 
 In the execution of such a plan, nothing is more essential than that per- 
 manent inveterate antipathies against particular nations, and passionate attach- 
 ments for others should be excluded ; and that, in place of them, just and 
 amicable feelings toward all should be cultivated. The nation which indulges 
 toward another an habitual hatred, or an habitual fondness,, is in some degree 
 a slave. It is a slave to its animosity or to its affection, either of which is 
 sufficient to lead it astray from its duty and its interest. Antipathy in one 
 nation against another, disposes each more readily to offer insult and injury, 
 to lay hold of slight causes of umbrage, and to be haughty and intractable, 
 when accidental or trifling occasions of dispute occur. Hence frequent col- 
 lisions, obstinate, envenomed, and bloody contests. The nation prompted by 
 ill-will and resentment, sometimes impels to war the government, contrary to 
 the best calculations of policy. The government sometimes participates in 
 the national propensity, and adopts, through passion, what reason would 
 reject; at other times, it makes the animosity of the nation subservient to 
 projects of hostility, instigated by pride, ambition, and other sinister and per- 
 nicious motives. The peace often, sometimes perhaps the liberty, of nations 
 has been the victim. 
 
 So, likewise, a passionate attachment of one nation for another produces a 
 variety of evils. Sympathy for the favorite nation, facilitating the illusion of 
 an imaginary common interest, in cases where no real common interest exists, 
 and infusing into one the enmities of the other, betrays the former into a 
 participation in the quarrels and wars of the latter, without adequate induce- 
 ment or justification. It leads also to the concessions to the favorite nation 
 of privileges denied to others, which is apt doubly to injure the nation making 
 the concessions; by unnecessarily parting with what ought to have been 
 retained ; and by exciting jealousy, ill-will, and a disposition to retaliate, in 
 the parties from whom equal privileges are withheld-^and it gives to ambi- 
 tious, corrupted, or deluded citizens (who devote themselves to the favorite 
 nation), facility to betray or sacrifice the interests of their own country with- 
 out odium, sometimes even with popularity ; gilding with the appearance of 
 a virtuous sense of obligation, a commendable deference for public opinion, 
 or a laudable zeal for public good, the base or foolish compliances of ambition, 
 corruption or infatuation. 
 
WASHINGTON'S FAREWELL ADDRESS. 487 
 
 As avenues to foreign influence in innumerable ways, such attacTiments 
 are particularly alarming to the truly enlightened and independent patriot. 
 How many opportunities do they afford to tamper with domestic factions to 
 practice the arts of seduction, to mislead public opinions, to influence or awe 
 public councils ! Such an attachment of a small or weak, toward a great and 
 powerful nation, dooms the former to be the satellite of the latter. Against 
 the insidious wiles of foreign influence (I conjure you to believe me, fellow 
 citizens), the jealousy of a free people ought to be constantly awake; 
 since history and experience prove that foreign influence is one of the most 
 baneful foes of republican government. But that jealousy, to be useful, must 
 be impartial ; else it becomes the instrument of the very influence to be 
 avoided, instead of a defence against it. Excessive partiality for one foreign 
 nation, and excessive dislike of another, cause those whom they actuate, to 
 Bee danger only on one side, and serve to vail and even second the arts of 
 influence on the other. Real patriots, who may resist the intrigues of the 
 favorite, are liable to become suspected and odious ; while its tools and dupes 
 usurp the applause and confidence of the people, to surrender their interests. 
 The great rule of conduct for us, in regard to foreign nations, is, in extending 
 our commercial relations, to have with them as little political connection as 
 possible. So far as we have already formed engagements, let them be fulfilled 
 with perfect good faith. Here let us stop. 
 
 Europe has a set of primary interests, which to us have none, or a very 
 remote relation. Hence she must be engaged in frequent controversies, the 
 causes of which are essentially foreign to our concerns. Hence, therefore, it 
 must be unwise in us to implicate ourselves by artificial ties, in the ordinary 
 vicissitudes of her politics, or the ordinary combinations and collisions of her 
 friendships or enmities. Our detached and distant situation invites and ena- 
 bles us to pursue a diff"erent course. If we remain one people under an effi- 
 cient government, the period is not far off when we may defy material injury 
 from external annoyance ; when we may take such an attitude as will cause 
 the neutrality we may at any time resolve upon, to be scrupulously respected ; 
 ■when belligerent nations, under the impossibility of making acquisitions 
 upon us, will not lightly hazard the giving us provocation ; when wc may 
 choose peace or war, as our interest, guided by justice, shall counsel. 
 
 Why forego the advantage of so peculiar a situation ? Why quit our own 
 to stand upon foreign ground? Wby, by interweaving our destiny with any 
 part of Europe, entangle our peace and prosperity in the toils of European 
 ambition, rivalship, interest, humor, or caprice ? It is our true policy to steer 
 clear of permanent alliances with any portion of the foreign world ; so far, I 
 mean, as we are now at liberty to do it; for let me not be understood as 
 capable of patronizing infidelity to existing engagements. I hold the maxim 
 no less applicable to public than to private aflfairs, that honesty is always the 
 best policy. I repeat it, therefore, let those engagements be observed in their 
 genuine sense. But, in my opinion, it is unnecessary, and would be unwise 
 
488 WASHINGTON'S FAREWELL ADDRESS. 
 
 to extend them. Taking care always to keep ourselves, by suitable establisb- 
 ments, in a respectable defensive posture, we may safely trust to temporary 
 alliances for extraordinary emergences. 
 
 Harmony, liberal intercourse with all nations, are recommended by policy, 
 humanity, and interest. But even our commercial policy should hold an 
 equal and impartial hand ; neither seeking nor granting exclusive favors or 
 preferences; consulting the natural course of things; diffusing and diversify- 
 ing, by gentle means, the streams of commerce, but forcing nothing; estab- 
 lishing with powers so disposed, in order to give trade a stable course, to 
 define the rights of our merchants, and to enable the government to support 
 them, conventional rules of intercourse, the best that present circumstances 
 and mutual opinion will permit, but temporary, and liable to be from time to 
 time abandoned or varied, as experience or circumstances shall dictate; con- 
 stantly keeping in view, that it is folly in one nation to look for disinterested 
 favors from another; that it must pay with a portion of its independence for 
 whatever it may accept under that character; that by such acceptance, it 
 may place itself in the condition of having given equivalent for nominal 
 favors, and yet of being reproached with ingratitude for not giving more. 
 There can be no greater error than to expect or calculate upon real favors 
 from nation to nation, 'Tis an illusion which experience must cure, which a 
 just pride ought to discard. 
 
 In offering to you, my countrymen, these counsels of an old and aff"cction- 
 ate friend, I dare not hope they will make the strong and lasting impression 
 I could wish; that they will control the usual current of the passions, or pre- 
 vent our nation from running the -course which has hitherto marked the 
 destiny of nations; but if I may even flatter myself that tbey may be pro- 
 ductive of some partial benefit, some occasional good; that they may now 
 and then recur to moderate the fury of party spirit, to warn against the mis- 
 chiefs of foreign intrigues, and guard against the impostures of pretended 
 patriotism; this hope will be a full recompense for the solicitude for your 
 welfare, by which they have been dictated. How far, in the discharge of my 
 oflBcial duties, I have been guided by the principles which have been deline- 
 ated, the public records and other evidences of my conduct must witness to 
 you and to the world. To myself, the assurance of my own conscience is, 
 that I have at least believed myself to be guided by them. 
 
 In relation to the still subsisting war in Europe, my proclamation of the 
 22d of April, 1Y93, is the index to my plan. Sanctioned by your approving 
 voice and by that of your representatives in both Houses of Congress, tho 
 spirit of that measure has continually governed me ; uninfluenced by any 
 attempt to deter or divert me from it. After deliberate examination, with 
 the aid of the best lights I could obtain, I was well satisfied that our country, 
 under all the circumstances of the case, had a right to take, and was bound 
 in duty and interest to take a neutral position. Having taken it^ I determineJ, 
 
WASHINGTON'S FAREWELL ADDRESS. 489 
 
 as far as should depend upon me, to maintain it with moderation, persever- 
 ance and firmness. 
 
 The consideration which respects the right to hold this conduct, it is not 
 necessary on this occasion to detail. I will only observe, that according to 
 my understanding of the matter, that right, so far from being denied by any 
 of the belligerent powers, has been virtually admitted by all. The duty of 
 holding a neutral conduct may be inferred, without any thing more, from the 
 obligation which justice and humanity impose upon every nation, in cases in 
 which it is free to act, to maintain inviolate the relations of peace and amity 
 toward other nations. The inducements of interest for observing that con- 
 duct will be best referred to your own reflection and experience. With me 
 a predominant motive has been to endeavor to gain time to our country to 
 settle and mature its yet recent institutions, and to progress, without inter- 
 ruption, to that degree of strength and consistency which is necessary to 
 give it, humanly speaking, the command of its own fortunes. 
 
 Though in reviewing the incidents of my administration, I am unconscious 
 of intentional error, I am, nevertheless, too sensible of my defects not to 
 think it probable that I have committed many errors. Whatever they may 
 be, I fervently beseech the Almighty to avert or mitigate the evils to which 
 they may tend. I shall also carry with me the hope that my country will 
 never cease to view them with indulgence; and that after forty-five years of 
 my life dedicated to its service, with an upright zeal, the faults of incompe- 
 tent abilities will be consigned to oblivion, as myself must soon be to the 
 mansions of rest. Relying on its kindness in this as in other things, and 
 actuated by that fervent love toward it, which is so natural to a man who 
 views in it the native soil of himself and his progenitors for several genera- 
 tions ; I anticipate with pleasing expectation that retreat, in which I promise 
 myself to realize without alloy, the sweet enjoyment of partaking, in the 
 midst of my fellow-citizens, the benign influence of good laAvs under a free 
 government — the ever-favorite object of my heart, and the happy reward, aa 
 T trust, of our mutual cares, labors, and dangers. 
 
 GEORGE WASHINGTON. 
 
 United States, September 17, 1796. 
 
THE DECLARATION OF INDEPENDENCE. 
 
 A Declaration hy the Representatives of the United States of America, in 
 
 Congress assembled. 
 
 When, in the course of human events, it becomes necessary for one people 
 to dissolve the political bands which have connected them v^ith another, and 
 to assume, among the powers of the earth, the separate and equal station to 
 which the laws of nature and of nature's God entitle them, a decent respect 
 to the opinions of mankind requires that they should declare the causes which 
 impel them to the separation. 
 
 We hold these truths to be self-evident : that all men are created equal ; 
 that they are endowed by their Creator with certain inalienable rights; 
 that among these are life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness ; that, to secure 
 these rights, governments are instituted among men, deriving their just pow- 
 ers from the consent of the governed ; that, whenever any form of government 
 becomes destructive of these ends, it is the right of the people to alter or 
 abolish it, and to institute a new government, laying its foundation on such 
 principles, and organizing its power in such form, as to them shall seem most 
 likely to effect their safety and happiness. Prudence, indeed, will dictate, 
 that governments long established, should not be changed for light and 
 t'ansient causes. And accordingly, all experience hath shown that mankind 
 are more disposed to suffer, while evils are sufferable, than to right them- 
 selves by abolishing the forms to which they are accustomed. But when a 
 long train of abuses and usurpations, pursuing invariably the same object, 
 evinces a design to reduce them under absolute despotism, it is their right, 
 it is their duty, to throw off such a government, and to provide new guards 
 for their future security. Such has been the patient sufferance of these colo- 
 nics ; and such is now the necessity which constrains them to alter their 
 former systems of government. The history of the present King of Great 
 Britain is a history of repeated injuries and usurpations ; but all having in 
 direct object the establishment of an absolute tyranny over these states. To 
 prove this, let facts be submitted to a candid world. 
 
 lie has refused his assent to laws the most wholesome and necessary for 
 ithe public good. 
 
 He has forbidden his governors to pass laws of immediate and pressing 
 
THE DECLARATION OF INDEPENDENCE. 491 
 
 importance, unless suspended in their operation till his assent should be ob- 
 tained ; and when so suspended, he has utterly neglected to attend to them. 
 
 He has refused to pass other laws for the accommodation of large districts 
 of people, unless those people would relinquish the right of representation in 
 the legislature ; a right inestimable to them, and formidable to tyrants only. 
 
 He has called together legislative bodies at places unusual, uncomfortable, 
 and distant from the repository of their public records, for the sole purpose 
 of fatiguing them into compliance with his measures. 
 
 He has dissolved representative houses repeatedly, for opposing with manly 
 firmness his invasions on the rights of the people. 
 
 He has refused, for a long time after such dissolutions, to cause others to 
 Le elected, whereby the legislative powers, incapable of annihilation, have 
 returned to the people at large for their exercise, the state remaining, in the 
 mean time, exposed to all the dangers of invasions from without and convul- 
 sions from within. 
 
 He has endeavored to prevent the population of these states ; for that 
 purpose obstructing the laws for the naturalization of foreigners ; refusing to 
 pass others to encourage their migration hither ; and raising the conditions of 
 new appropriations of lands. 
 
 He has obstructed the administration of justice, by refusing his assent to 
 laws for establishing judiciary powers. 
 
 He has made judges dependent on his will alone, for the tenure of their 
 offices and the amount and payment of their salaries. 
 
 He has erected a multitude of new offices, and sent hither swarms of officers 
 to harass our people and eat out their substance. 
 
 He has kept among us, in times of peace, standing armies, without the 
 consent of our legislatures. 
 
 He has affected to render the military independent of, and superior to, the 
 civil power. 
 
 He has combined with others to subject us to a jurisdiction foreign to our 
 constitutions, and unacknowledged by our laws ; giving his assent to their 
 acts of pretended legislation : 
 
 For quartering large bodies of armed troops among us ; 
 
 For protecting them, by a mock trial, from punishment for any murders 
 •which they should commit on the inhabitants of these states; 
 
 For cutting off our trade with all parts of the world ; 
 
 For imposing taxes on us without our consent ; 
 
 For depriving us, in many cases, of the benefits of trial by jury ; 
 
 For transporting us beyond seas to be tried for pretended offenses ; 
 
 For abolishing the free system of English laws in a neighboring province, 
 establishing therein an arbitrary government, and enlarging its boundaries, so 
 as to render it at once an example and fit instrument for introducing the 
 same absolute rule into these colonies ; 
 
 For taking away our charters, abolishing our most valuable laws, and alter- 
 ing, f-mdamentally, the forms of our governments ; 
 
492 THE DECLARATION OF INDEPENDENCE. 
 
 For suspending our own legislatures, and declaring themselves invested 
 ■with power to legislate for us in all cases whatsoever. 
 
 lie has abdicated government here, by declaring us out of his protection, 
 and waging war against us. 
 
 He has plundered our seas, ravaged our coasts, burned our towns, and de- 
 stroyed the lives of our people. 
 
 He is at this time transporting large armies of foreign mercenaries to com- 
 plete the works of death, desolation and tyranny, already begun with circum- 
 stances of cruelty and perfidy scarcely paralleled in the most barbarous ages, 
 and totally unworthy the head of a civilized nation. 
 
 He has constrained our fellow-citizens, taken captive on the high seas, to 
 bear arms against their country, to become the executioners of their friends 
 and brethren, or to fall themselves by their hands. 
 
 He has excited domestic insurrection among us, and has endeavored to 
 bring on the inhabitants of our frontiers the merciless Indian savages, whose 
 known rule of warfare is an undistinguished destruction of all ages, sexes, and 
 conditions. 
 
 In every stage of these oppressions, we have petitioned for redress in the 
 most humble terms ; our repeated petitions have been answered only by re- 
 peated injury. A prince whose character is thus marked by every act which 
 may define a tyrant, is unfit to be the ruler of a free people. 
 
 Nor have we been wanting in our attentions to our British brethren. We 
 have warned them, from time to time, of attempts by their legislature to extend 
 an unwarrantable jurisdiction over us. We have reminded them of the cir- 
 cumstances of our emigration and settlement here. We have appealed to their 
 native justice and magnanimity, and we have conjured them by the ties of our 
 common kindred, to disavow these usurpations, which would inevitably inter- 
 rupt our connections and correspondence. They, too, have been deaf to tho 
 voice of justice and consanguinity. We must, therefore, acquiesce in the 
 necessity which denounces our separation, and hold them as we hold the 
 rest of mankind — enemies in war — in peace, friends. 
 
 We, therefore, the representatives of the United States of America, in gen- 
 eral Congress assembled, appealing to the Supreme Judge of the world for 
 the rectitude of our intentions, do, in the name, and by the authority of the 
 good people of these colonies, solemnly publish and declare that these united 
 colonies are, and of right ought to be, free and independent states; that they are 
 absolved from all allegiance to the British crown, and that all political con- 
 nection between them and the state of Great Britain is, and ought to be, totally 
 dissolved, and that, as free and independent states, they have full power to 
 levy war, conclude peace, contract alliances, establish commerce, and do all 
 other acts and things which independent states may of right do. And for 
 the support of this Declaration, with a firm reliance on the protection of Di- 
 vine Providence, we mutually pledge to each other our lives, our fortunes, 
 and our sacred honor. 
 
THE DECLARATION OF INDEPENDENCE. 
 SIGNERS OF THE DECLARATION OF INDEPENDENCE. 
 
 493 
 
 The following is a list of tbe members of the Continental Congress, who 
 signed the Declaration of Independence, with the places and dates of their 
 birth, and the time of their respective deaths : 
 
 JtAlIES OF TUB SIGXEES. 
 
 Aflams, .Tohn 
 
 A<lains, Samuol 
 
 ]Jaitlett, Jofiah 
 
 IJruxton, Carter 
 
 t'anoll, Charles, of Carrollton 
 
 Chase, Samuel 
 
 Clark, Abraham 
 
 Clynier, George 
 
 KUery, William 
 
 Floyd, William 
 
 Franklin, Uenjamin 
 
 G rry, Elbridtre 
 
 Gwinnet, Burton 
 
 Hall, Lyman 
 
 Hancock, John 
 
 Harrison, Benjamin 
 
 Hart, John 
 
 Heyward, Thomas, jr. 
 
 llewes, Joseph 
 
 Hooper, William 
 
 Hopkins, Stephen 
 
 Hopkinson, Francis 
 
 Huntingdon, Samuel 
 
 JetTerson, Thomas 
 
 Lee, Francis Lightfoot 
 
 Lee, Richard Henry 
 
 Lewis, Francis 
 
 Livingston, Philip 
 
 Lynch, Thomas, jr. 
 
 M'Keon, Thomas 
 
 Miildleton, Arthur 
 
 Morris, Lewis 
 
 Morris, Robert 
 
 Morton, John 
 
 Nelson, Thomas, jr. 
 
 Paca, William 
 
 Paine, Robert Treat 
 
 Penn, John . 
 
 Read, George . 
 
 Rodney, Cajsar 
 
 Ross, George 
 
 Rush, Benjamin, M.D. 
 
 Rutledgo, Edward 
 
 Sherman, Roger . 
 
 Smith, James 
 
 Stockton. Richard 
 
 Stone, Thomas 
 
 Taylor, George 
 
 Tli'ornton, Matthew 
 
 Walton, George . 
 
 Whipple, William 
 
 Williams, William 
 
 Wilson, James 
 
 Witherspoon, John 
 
 Wolcott Oliver . 
 
 Wythe, George . 
 
 Braintree, Mass., 19th Oct., 
 Boston, " 22d Sept, 
 
 Aniesbury, " in Nov., 
 
 Newington, Va., 10th Sept., 
 Annapolis, Md., 20th Sept., 
 Somerset co., Md., 17th April, 
 Elizabelht'n, N. J., 15th Feb., 
 Philadelphia, Penn., in 
 Newport, R. L, 22d Dec, 
 Suffolk CO., N. T., ITth Dec, 
 Boston, Mass., 17th Jan., 
 
 Marblehead, Mass., 17th July, 
 England, in 
 
 Connecticut, In 
 
 Braintree, Mass., In 
 
 Berkely, Virginia, 
 Hopewell, N. J., about 
 St.Luke'8, S. C, in 
 
 Kingston, N. J.. in 
 
 Boston, Mass., 17th June, 
 Scituate, " Tth March, 
 
 Philadelphia, Penn., in 
 Windham, Conn., 3d Julv, 
 Bhadwell, Va., 13th April, 
 Stratford, " 14th Oct., 
 
 Stratford, " 20th Jan., 
 
 Landaff, Wales, in March, 
 Albany, N. Y., 15th Jan., 
 St. George's, 8. C, 5th Aug., 
 Chester co., Pa., 19th March, 
 Middleton Place, S. C, in 
 Morrisania, N. Y., In 
 
 Lancashire, England, Jan., 
 Ridley, Penn., in 
 
 York, Virginia, 2Cth Dec, 
 Wye-Hill, Md., 81st Oct., 
 Boston, Mass., in 
 
 Caroline co., Va., ITth May, 
 Cecil CO., Maryland, In 
 Dover, Delaware, in 
 
 New Castle, Del., 
 Byperry, Penn., 
 Charleston, 8. C, 
 Newton, Mass., 
 Ireland, 
 
 Princeton, N. J., 
 Charles co., Md., 
 Ireland, 
 Ireland, 
 
 Frederick co., Va., 
 Kittery, Maine, 
 Lebanon, Conn., 
 Scotland 
 
 in 
 24th Dec, 
 in Nov., 
 19th April, 
 
 Ist Oct, 
 In 
 in 
 
 in 
 
 in 
 
 in 
 
 8th April, 
 
 about 
 
 Yester, Scotland, 6th Feb., 
 Windsor, Conn., 26th Nov., 
 Elizabeth city, Va., in 
 
 1735 
 1722 
 17-29 
 1736 
 1737 
 1741 
 1726 
 1739 
 1727 
 1734 
 1706 
 1744 
 1732 
 1731 
 1737 
 
 1715 
 1746 
 1730 
 1742 
 170T 
 1737 
 1732 
 1743 
 1734 
 1782 
 1713 
 1716 
 1749 
 1734 
 1743 
 1726 
 17a8 
 1724 
 1738 
 1740 
 1731 
 1741 
 1734 
 1780 
 1730 
 1745 
 1749 
 1721 
 
 1780 
 1742 
 1716 
 1714 
 1740 
 1730 
 1731 
 1742 
 1722 
 1726 
 1726 
 
 DELEOATB FBOM 
 
 Massachusetts, 
 
 Massachusetts, 
 
 New Hampshire, 
 
 Virginia, 
 
 Maryland, 
 
 Maryland, 
 
 New Jersey, 
 
 Pennsylvania, 
 
 R. L & Prov. PI., 
 
 New York, 
 
 Pennsylvania, 
 
 Massachusetts, 
 
 Georgia, 
 
 Georgia, 
 
 Massachusetts, 
 
 VJrginia, 
 
 New Jersey, 
 
 South Carolina, 
 
 North Carolina, 
 
 North Carolina, 
 
 R. I. & Prov. PI., 
 
 New Jersey, 
 
 Connecticut, 
 
 Virginia, 
 
 Virginia, 
 
 Virginia, 
 
 New York, 
 
 New York, 
 
 South Carolina, 
 
 Delaware, 
 
 South Carolina, 
 
 New York, 
 
 Pennsylvania, 
 
 Pennsylvania, 
 
 Virginia, 
 
 Maryland, 
 
 Massachusetts, 
 
 North Carolina, 
 
 Delaware, 
 
 Delaware, 
 
 Pennsylvania, 
 
 Pennsylvania, 
 
 South Carolina, 
 
 Connecticut, 
 
 Pennsvlvania, 
 
 New Jersey, 
 
 Maryland, 
 
 Pennsylvania, 
 
 New Hampshire, 
 
 Georgia, 
 
 New Hampshire, 
 
 Connecticut, 
 
 Pennsylvania, 
 
 New tfersey, 
 
 Connecticut, 
 
 Virginia, 
 
 4th Julv, 1S26 
 2d Oct.; 1803 
 19th Mav, 1795 
 lOlh Oct., 1797 
 141 h Nov., 1S.32 
 19th June, ISll 
 
 • June, 1794 
 
 241h Jan., 1S13 
 15th Feb., 1S20 
 4lh Aug.. 1^21 
 17fh April, 1790 
 23d Nov., 1814 
 27th Mav, 1777 
 
 Feb., 1790 
 
 8th Oct, 1793 
 April, 1791 
 
 : , 1780 
 
 Mar., 1809 
 
 10th Nov., 1779 
 
 Oct, 1790 
 
 l?th Julv, 1785 
 9th Mav, 1790 
 f.th Jan., 1796 
 4th Julv, 1826 
 
 April, 1797 
 
 19th June, 1794 
 80lh Dec, 1803 
 12th June, 1778 
 lost at sea, 1779 
 24th June, 1817 
 1st Jan., 1787 
 22d Jan., 1793 
 8th Mav, 1806 
 
 April, 1777 
 
 4th Jan., 1789 
 
 — , 1799 
 
 11th Mav, 1814 
 
 Sept, 1783 
 
 , 1793 
 
 , 1783 
 
 Julv, 1779 
 
 lOlh April, 181,3 
 23(1 Jan., 1800 
 23d Julv, 1793 
 11th Julv, 1806 
 28th Feb., 1781 
 5lh Oct, 17ST 
 23,1 Feb., 1781 
 241 h June, 1808 
 2d Feb., 1804 
 2Slh Nov., 1785 
 2d Aug., 1811 
 28th Aug., 179S 
 15lli Nov., 1794 
 1st Dec, 1797 
 8th June, 1806 
 
CONSTITUTION OF THE UNITED STATES. 
 
 "We tlie People of the United States, in order to form a more perfect Union, 
 establish Justice, insure domestic Tranquility, provide for the common de- 
 fence, promote the general Welfare, and secure the Blessings of Liberty to 
 ourselves and our Posterity, do ordain and establish this Constitution for 
 the United States of America. 
 
 ARTICLE I. 
 
 Section 1. All legislative powers herein granted shall be vested in a Con- 
 gress of the United States, ■which shall consist of a Senate and House of 
 Representatives. 
 
 Section 2. The House of Representatives shall be composed of Members 
 chosen every second Year by the People of the several States, and the Elec- 
 tors in each State shall have the Qualifications requisite for Electors of tho 
 most numerous Branch of the State Legislature. 
 
 No person shall be a Representative who shall not have attained to the age 
 of twenty-five Years, and been seven Years a Citizen of the United States, 
 and who shall not, when elected, be an Inhabitant of that State in which he 
 shall be chosen. 
 
 Representatives and direct Taxes shall be apportioned among the several 
 States which may be included within this Union, according to their respec- 
 tive Numbers, which shall be determined by adding to the whole Number of 
 free Persons, including those bound to Service for a Term of Years, and ex- 
 cluding Indians not taxed, three fifths of all other Persons. The actual Enu- 
 meration shall be made within three Years after the first Meeting of tho 
 Congress of the United States, and within every subsequent Term of ten 
 Years, in such manner as they shall by Law direct. The Number of Repre- 
 sentatives shall not exceed one for every thirty Thousand ; but each State 
 shall have at Least one Representative ; and until such enumeration shall be 
 made, the State of New Hampshire shall be entitled to choose three, Massa- 
 chusetts eight, Rhode Island and Providence Plantations one, Connecticut 
 five, New York six, New Jersey four, Pennsylvania eight, Delaware one, 
 Maryland six, Virginia ten, North Carolina five, South Carolina five, and 
 Georgia three. 
 
CONSTITUTION OF THE UNITED STATES. 495 
 
 When vacancies happen in the Representation from any State, the Execu- 
 tive Authority thereof shall issue Writs of Election to fill such Vacancies. 
 
 The House of Representatives shall choose their Speaker and other OflS- 
 cers ; and shall have the sole Power of Impeachment. 
 
 Section 3. The Senate of the United States shall be composed of two 
 Senators from each State, chosen by the Legislature thereof, for six Years ; 
 and each Senator shall have one Vote. 
 
 Immediately after they shall be assembled in Consequence of the first 
 Election, they shall be divided as equally as may be into three Classes. The 
 Seats of the Senators of the first Class shall be vacated at the Expiration of 
 the second Year, of the second Class at the Expiration of the fourth Year, 
 and of the third Class at the Expiration of the sixth Year, so that one 
 third may be chosen every second year ; and if Vacancies happen by Resig- 
 nation, or otherwise, during the Recess of the Legislature of any State, the 
 Executive thereof may make temporary Appointments until the next Meetino- 
 of the Legislature, which shall then fill such Vacancies. 
 
 No Person shall be a Senator who shall not have attained to the age of 
 thirty Years, and been nine Years a Citizen of the United States, and who 
 shall not, when elected, be an Inhabitant of that State for which he shall be 
 chosen. 
 
 The Vice-President of the United States shall be President of the Senate, 
 but shall have no Vote, unless they be equally divided. 
 
 The Senate shall choose their other Ofiicers, and also a President pro tem- 
 pore, in the absence of the Vice-President, or when he shall exercise the 
 Office of President of the United States. 
 
 The Senate shall have full power to try all impeachments : When sitting 
 for that Purpose, they shall be on Oath, or Afiirmation. When the Presi- 
 dent of the United States is tried, the Chief Justice shall preside : and no 
 Person shall be convicted without the Concurrence of two thirds of the 
 Members present. 
 
 Judgment in Cases of Impeachment shall not extend further than to re- 
 moval from Ofiice, and Disqualification to hold and enjoy any Office of Honor, 
 Trust, or Profit under the United States : but the party convicted shall nev- 
 ertheless be liable and subject to Indictment, Trial, Judgment, and Punish- 
 ment, according to Law. 
 
 Section 4. The Times, Places, and Manner of holding Elections for Sena- 
 tors and Representatives, shall be prescribed in each State by the Legislature 
 thereof; but the Congress may at any time by Law make or alter such Reg- 
 ulations, except as to the places of chusing Senators. 
 
 The Congress shall assemble at least once in every Year, and such meeting 
 shall be on the first Monday in December, unless they shall by Law appoint a 
 diff'erent day. 
 
 Section 5. Each House shall be the Judge of the Elections, Returns, and 
 Qualifications of its own Members, and a Majority of each shall constitute a 
 
496 CONSTITUTION OF THE UNITED STATES. 
 
 Quorum to do Business ; but a smaller Number may adjourn from day to 
 day, and may be authorized to compel the Attendance of absent Members, in 
 such Manner, and under such Penalties as each House may provide. 
 
 Each House may determine the Rules of its Proceedings, punish its Mem- 
 bers for disorderly Behaviour, and, with the Concurrence of two thirds, expel 
 a Member. 
 
 Each House shall keep a Journal of its Proceedings, and from time to time 
 publish the same, excepting such Parts as may in their Judgment require 
 Secresy ; and the Yeas and Nays of the Members of either House on any 
 question shall, at the Desire of one fifth of those Present, be entered on the 
 Journal. 
 
 Neither House, during the Session of Congress, shall, without the Consent 
 of the other, adjourn for more than three days, nor to any other Place than 
 that in which the two Houses shall be sitting. 
 
 Section 6. The Senators and Representatives shall receive a Compensa- 
 tion for their Services, to be ascertained by Law, and paid out of the Treasury 
 of the United States. They shall in all Cases, except Treason, Felony, and 
 Breach of the Peace, be privileged from Arrest during their Attendance at 
 the Session of their respective Houses, and in going to and returning from 
 the same ; and for any Speech or Debate in either House, they shall not be 
 questioned in any other Place. 
 
 No Senator or Representative shall, during the time for which he was 
 elected, be appointed to any civil OflBce under the Authority of the United 
 States, which shall have been created, or the Emoluments whereof shall have 
 been increased during such time ; and no Person holding any office under the 
 United States, shall be a Member of cither House during his Continuance in 
 office. 
 
 Section V. All Bills for raising Revenue shall originate in the House of 
 Representatives ; but the Senate may propose or concur with Amendments 
 as on other Bills. 
 
 Every Bill which shall have passed the house of Representatives and the 
 Senate, shall, before it become a Law, be presented to the President of the 
 United States : if he approve he shall sign it, but if not he shall return it, 
 with. his Objections, to that House in which it shall have originated, who 
 shall enter the Objections at large on their Journal, and proceed to reconsider 
 it. If, after such Reconsideration, two thirds of that House shall agree to 
 pass the Bill, it shall be sent, together with the Objections, to the other 
 House, by which it shall likewise be reconsidered, and if approved by two 
 thirds of that House, it shall become a Law. But in all such Cases the 
 Votes of both Houses shall be determined by Yeas and Nays, and the Names 
 of the Persons voting for and against the Bill shall be entered on the Journal 
 of each House respectively. If any Bill shall not be returned by the Presi- 
 dent within ten Days (Sunday excepted) after it shall have been presented to 
 him, the Same shall be a Law, in like Manner as if he had signed it, unless 
 
CONSTITUTION OF THE UNITED STATES. 497 
 
 tlie Congress by their Adjournment prevent its Return, in wliich Case it shall 
 not be a Law. 
 
 Every Order, Resolution, or Vote to -which the Concurrence of the Senate 
 and House of Representatives may be necessary (except on a question of ad- 
 journment), shall be presented to the President of the United States ; and 
 before the Same shall take EfTect, shall be approved by him, or being disap- 
 proved by him, shall be repassed by two thirds of the Senate and House of 
 Representatives, according to the Rules and Limitations prescribed in the 
 Case of a Bill. 
 
 Section 8. The Congress shall have Power 
 
 To lay and collect Taxes, Duties, Imposts, and Excises ; to pay the Debts 
 and provide for the common Defense and general Welfare of the United 
 States ; but all Duties, Imposts, and Excises shall be uniform throughout the 
 United States; 
 
 To borrow Money on the credit of the United States ; 
 
 To regulate Commerce with foreign nations, and among the several States, 
 and with the Indian tribes ; 
 
 To establish an uniform Rule of Naturalization, and uniform Laws on tho 
 subject of Bankruptcies throughout the United States ; 
 
 To coin Money, regulate the Value thereof, and of foreign Coin, and fix the 
 Standard of Weights and Measures ; 
 
 To provide for the Punishment of counterfeiting the Securities and current 
 Coin of the United States ; 
 
 To establish Post Offices and Post Roads ; 
 
 To promote the progress of Science and useful Arts, by securing for limited 
 Times to Authors and Inventors the exclusive Right to their respective Writ- 
 ings and Discoveries ; 
 
 To constitute Tribunals inferior to the Supreme Court; 
 
 To define and punish Piracies and Felonies committed on the high Seas, 
 and Offenses against the Law of Nations ; 
 
 To declare War, grant Letters of Marque and Reprisal, and make Rules 
 concerning Captures on Land and Water ; 
 
 To raise and support Armies ; but no Appropriation of Money to that Use 
 shall be for a longer Term than two Years ; 
 
 To provide and maintain a Navy ; 
 
 To make Rules for the Government and Regulation of the Land and Naval 
 Forces ; 
 
 To provide for calling forth the Militia to execute the Laws of the Union, 
 suppress Insurrections, and repel Invasions. 
 
 To provide for organizing, arming, and disciplining the Militia, and for 
 governing such Part of them as may be employed in the Service of the United 
 States — reserving to the States respectively, the appointment of the Officers, 
 and the Authority of training the Militia according to the Discipline prescribed 
 by Congress 
 
498 CONSTITUTION OF THE UNITED STATES. 
 
 To exercise exclusive Legislation in all Cases ■whatsoever, over such Dis- 
 trict (not exceeding ten Miles square) as may, by Cession of particular States, 
 and the Acceptance of Congress, become the Seat of the Government of the 
 United States, and to exercise like Authority over all Places purchased by 
 the Consent of the Legislature of the State in -which the Same shall be, for 
 the Erection of Forts, Magazines, Arsenals, Dockyards, and other needful 
 Buildings ; — And 
 
 To make all Laws which shall be necessary and proper for carrying into 
 Execution the foregoing Powers, and all other Powers vested by this Consti- 
 tution in the Government of the United States, or in any Department or Offi- 
 cer thereof. 
 
 Section 9. The Migration or Importation of such Persons as any of the 
 States now existing shall think proper to admit, shall not be prohibited by 
 the Congress prior to the Year one thousand eight hundred and eight, but a 
 Tax or Duty may be imposed on such Importation, not exceeding ten dollars 
 for each Person. 
 
 The Privilege of the Writ of Habeas Corpus shall not be suspended, unless 
 when in Cases of Rebellion or Invasion the public Safety may require it. 
 
 No Bill of Attainder or ex post Facto law shall be passed. 
 
 No Capitation, or other direct, Tax shall be laid, unless in Proportion to 
 the Census or Enumeration herein before directed to be taken. 
 
 No Tax or Duty shall be laid on Articles exported from any State. 
 
 No Preference shall be given by any Regulation of Commerce or Revenue 
 to the Ports of one State over those of another ; nor shall Vessels bound to, 
 or from, one State, be obliged to enter, clear, or pay Duties in another. 
 
 No Money shall be drawn from the Treasury, but in Consequence of Appro- 
 priations made by law ; and a regular Statement and Account of the Re- 
 ceipts and Expenditures of all public Money shall be published from time to 
 time. 
 
 No Title of Nobility shall be granted by the United States : And no Per- 
 son holding any Office of Profit or Trust under them, shall, without the Con- 
 sent of the Congress, accept of any Present, Emolument, Office, or Title, ol 
 any kind whatever, from any King, Prince, or Foreign State. 
 
 Section 10, No State shall enter into any Treaty, Alliance, or Confedera- 
 tion ; grant Letters of Marque and Reprisal ; coin Money, emit Bills of Credit; 
 make any Thing but gold and silver Coin a Tender in Payment of Debts ; 
 pass any Bill of Attainder, ex post facto Law, or Law impairing the Obligation 
 of Contracts, or grant any Title of Nobility. 
 
 No State shall, without the Consent of the Congress, lay any Imposts or 
 Duties on Imports or Exports, except what may be absolutely necessary for 
 executing its inspection Laws : and the net Produce of all Duties and Ira- 
 posts, laid by any State on Imports or Exports, shall be for the Use of the 
 Treasury of the United States; and all such Laws shall be subject to the Re- 
 vision and Controul of the Congress. 
 
CONSTITUTION OF THE UNITED STATES. 499 
 
 No State sliall, without the Consent of Congress, lay any Duty of Tonnage, 
 keep Troops, or Ships-of-War in time of Peace, enter into any Agreement or 
 Compact with another State, or with a foreign Power, or engage in War 
 unless actually invaded, or in such imminent Danger as will not admit of 
 Delay. 
 
 AKTICLE II. 
 
 Section 1. The executive Power shall be vested in a President of the 
 United States of America. He shall hold his Office during the Term of four 
 Years, and, together with the Vice-President, chosen for the same Term, be 
 elected, as follows : 
 
 Each State shall appoint, in ^uch Manner as the Legislature thereof may 
 direct, a Number of Electors, equal to the whole Number of Senators and 
 Representatives to which the Slate may be entitled in the Congress: but no 
 Senator or Representative, or Person holding an Office of Trust or Profit un- 
 der the United Slates, shall be appointed an Elector. 
 
 [The electors shall meet in their respective States, and vote by ballot for 
 two persons, of whom one at least shall not be an inhabitant of the same 
 State with themselves. And they shall make a list of all the persons voted 
 for, and of the number of votes for each ; which list they shall sign and cer- 
 tify, and transmit sealed to the seat of the government of the United States, 
 directed to the President of the Senate. The President of the Senate shall, 
 in the presence of the Senate and House of Representatives, open all the cer- 
 tificates, and the votes Sihall then be counted. The person having the greatest 
 number of votes shall be the President, if such number be a majority of the 
 whole number of electors appointed ; and if there be more than one who 
 have such majority, and have an equal number of votes, then the House of 
 Representatives shall immediately choose by ballot one of them for President; 
 and if no person have a majority, then from the five highest on the list the 
 said House shall in like manner choose the President. But in choosing tho 
 President, the votes shall be taken by States — the representation from each 
 State having one vote ; a quorum for this purpose shall consist of a member 
 or members from two thirds of the States, and a majority of all the States 
 shall be necessary to a choice. In every case, after the choice of the Presi- 
 dent, the person having the greatest number of votes of the electors shall 
 be the Vice-President. But if there should remain two or more who 
 have equal votes, the Senate shall choose from them by ballot the Vice- 
 President.] 
 
 The Congress may determine the Time of chusing the Electors, and the 
 Day on which they shall give their Votes; which Day shall be the same 
 throughout the United States. 
 
 No Person except a natural born Citizen, or a Citizen of the United States 
 at the time of the Adoption of this Constitution, shall be eligible to the Office 
 of President ; neither shall any person be eligible to that Office wh'o shall 
 
500 CONSTITUTION OF THE UNITED STATES. 
 
 not Lave attained to the Age of thirty-five Years, and been fourteen Years a 
 Resident within the United States. 
 
 In Case of the Removal of the President from Office, or of his Death, Resig- 
 nation, or Inability to discharge the Powers and Duties of the said office, the 
 same sliall devolve on the Vice-President, and the Congress may by Law 
 provide for the Case of Removal, Death, Resignation or Inability, both of 
 the President and Vice-President, declaring what Officer shall then act as 
 President, and such officer shall act accordingly, until the Disability be re- 
 moved, or a President shall be elected. 
 
 The President shall, at stated Times, receive for his Services, a Compensa- 
 tion, which shall neither be increased nor diminished during the Period for 
 which he shall have been elected, and he shall not receive within that 
 Period any other Emolument from the United States, or any of them. 
 
 Before he enter on the Execution of his Office, he shall take the following- 
 Oath or Affirmation : 
 
 " I do solemnly swear (or affirm) that I will faithfully execute the OflSce of 
 President of the United States, and will to the best of my Ability, preserve, 
 protect, and defend the Constitution of the United States." 
 
 Section 2. The President shall be Commander in chief of the Army and 
 Navy of the United States, and of the Militia of the several States, when 
 called into the actual Service of the United States ; he may require the 
 Opinion, in writing, of the principal Officer in each of the executive Depart- 
 ments, upon any Subject relating to the Duties of their respective Offices, 
 and he shall have Power to grant Reprieves and Pardons for Offences against 
 the United States, except in Cases of Impeachment. 
 
 He shall have Power, by and with the Advice and Consent of the Senate, 
 to make Treaties, provided two thirds of the Senators present concur ; and 
 he shall nominate, and by and with the Advice and Consent of the Senate, 
 shall appoint Ambassadors, other public Ministers and Consuls, Judges of the 
 supreme Court, and all other Officers of the United States, whose appoint- 
 ments are not herein hitherto provided for, and which shall be established by 
 Law : but the Congress may by Law vest the Appointment of such inferior 
 Officers, as they think proper, in the President alone, in the Courts of Law, 
 or in the Heads of Departments. 
 
 The President shall have Power to fill up all Vacancies that may happen 
 during the Recess of the Senate, by granting Commissions which shall expire 
 at the End of their next Session. 
 
 Section 3. He shall from time to time give to the Congress Information 
 of the State of the Union, and recommend to their Consideration such 
 Measures as he shall judge necessary and expedient; he may, on extraordi- 
 nary Occasions, convene both Houses, or either of them, and in Case of Dis- 
 agreement between them, with Respect to the Time of Adjournment, he may 
 adjourn them to such Time as he shall think proper; he shall receive 
 Ambassadors and other public Ministers; he shall take Care that the 
 
CONSTITUTION OF THE UNITED STATES. 501 
 
 La-vrs be foithfully executed, and shall Commission all the oflSccrs of the 
 United States. 
 
 Section 4. The President, Vice-President, and all civil Officers of the 
 United States, sliall be removed from Office on Impeachment for, and Con- 
 viction of, Treason, Bribery, or other high Crimes or Misdemeanors. 
 
 ARTICLE I'll. 
 ( 
 
 Section 1. The judicial Power of the United States, shall be vested in 
 
 one supreme Court, and in such inferior Courts as the Congress may from 
 
 time to time ordain and establish. The Judges, both of the supreme and 
 
 inferior Courts, shall hold their Offices during good Behavior, and shall, at 
 
 stated Times, receive for their Services, a Compensation, which shall not be 
 
 diminished during their Continuance in Office. 
 
 Section 2. The judicial Power shall extend to all Cases, in Law and 
 Equity, arising under this Constitution, the Laws of the United States, and 
 Treaties made, or which shall be made, under their Authority ; — to all cases 
 affecting Ambassadors, other public Ministers and Consuls; — to all Cases of 
 admiralty and maritime Jurisdiction ; — to Controversies to which the United 
 States shall be a Party ; — to Controversies between two or more States ; — 
 between a State and Citizens of another State ; — between Citizens of different 
 States', — between Citizens of the same State claiming Lands under Grants o 
 different States, and between a State, or the Citizens thereof, and foreign 
 States, Citizens or Subjects. 
 
 In all Cases affecting Ambassadors, other public Ministers and Consuls, and 
 those in which a State shall be a Party, the supreme Court shall have origi- 
 nal Jurisdiction. In all the other Cases before mentioned, the supreme Court 
 shall have appellate Jurisdiction, both as to Law and Fact, with such Excep- 
 tions, ar.d under such Regulations as the Congress shall make. 
 
 The Trial of all Crimes, except in Cases of Impeachment, shall be by Jury; 
 and such Trial shall be held in the State where the said Crimes shall have 
 been committed ; but when not committed within any State, the Trial shall 
 be at such Place or Places as the Congress may by Law have directed. 
 
 Section 3. Treason against the United States, shall consist only in levying 
 War against them, or in adhering to their Enemies, giving them Aid and 
 Comfort. 
 
 No Person shall be convicted of Treason, unless on the Testimony of two 
 Witnesses to the same overt Act, or on Confession in open Court. 
 
 The Congress shall have the Power to declare the Punishment of Treason, 
 but no Attainder of Treason shall work Corruption of Blood, or Forfeiture 
 except during the life of the Person attainted. 
 
 ARTICLE IV. 
 
 Section 1. Full Faith and Credit shall be given in each State to the pub- 
 lic Acts, Records, and judicial Proceedings of every other State. And the 
 
502 CONSTITUTION OF THE UNITED STATES. 
 
 Congress may by general Laws prescribe the Manner in which such Acts, 
 Records and Proceedings shall be proved, and the effect thereof. 
 
 Section 2. The Citizens of each State shall be entitled to all Privileges 
 and Immunities of Citizens in the several States. 
 
 A Person charged in any State with Treason, Felony, or other Crime, who 
 shall flee from Justice, and be found in another State, shall on Demand of 
 the executive Authority of the State from which he fled, be delivered up, to 
 be removed to the State having Jurisdiction of the Crime. 
 
 No Person held to Service or Labor in one State, under the Laws tliereof 
 escaping to another, shall, in Consequence of any Law or Regulation therein, 
 be discharged from such Service or Labor, but shall be delivered up on 
 Claim of the Party to whom such Service or Labor may be due. 
 
 Section 3. New States may be admitted by the Congress into this Union ; 
 but no new State shall be formed or erected within the Jurisdiction of any 
 other State ; nor any State be formed by the Junction of two or more States, 
 or Parts of States, without the consent of the Legislatures of the States con- 
 cerned as well as of the Congress. 
 
 The Congress shall have Power to dispose of and make all needful Rules 
 and Regulations respecting the Territory or other Property belonging to the 
 United States; and nothing in this Constitution shall be so construed as to 
 Prejudice any Claims of the United States, or of any particular State. 
 
 Section 4. The Constitution shall guaranty to every State in this Union a 
 Republican Form of Government, and shall protect each of them against 
 Invasion ; and on Application of the Legislature, or of the Executive (when 
 the Legislature can not be convened) against domestic violence. 
 
 AETICLE V. 
 
 The Congress, whenever two thirds of both Houses shall deem it neces- 
 sary, shall propose Amendments to this Constitution, or, on the Application 
 <of the Legislatures of two thirds of the s'everal States, shall call a Convention 
 for proposing Amendments, which, in either Case, shall be valid to all Li tents 
 „aad Purposes, as part of this Constitution, when ratified by the Legislatures 
 of three fourths of the several States, or by Conventions in three fourths 
 thereof, as the one or the other Mode of Ratification may be proposed by 
 the Congress ; Provided that no Amendment which may be made prior to 
 the Year one thousand eight hundred and eight shall in any Manner affect 
 the first and fourth Clauses in the Ninth Section of the first Article; and 
 that no State, without its Consent, shall be deprived of its equal SuflVage in 
 the Senate. 
 
 AETICLE VI.. 
 
 All Debts contracted and Engageraents entered into, before the Adoption 
 of this Constitution, shall be as valid against the United States under this 
 Constitution, as under the Confederation. 
 
CONSTITUTION OP THE UNITED STATES. 
 
 603 
 
 This Constitution, and the Laws of the United States ■which shall be made 
 in Pursuance thereof; and all Treaties made, or which shall be made, under 
 the authority of the United States, shall be the supreme Law of the Land ; 
 and the Judges in every State shall be bound thereby, any thing in the Con- 
 stitution or Laws of any State to the Contrary notwithstanding. 
 
 The Senators and Representatives before mentioned, and the Members of 
 the several State Legislatures, and all executive and judicial Officers, both of 
 the United States and of the several States, shall be bound by Oath or 
 Affirmation to support this Constitution ; but no religious Test shall ever be 
 required as a Qualification to any Office or public Trust under the United 
 States. 
 
 ARTICLE VII. 
 
 The Ratification of the Conventions of nine States shall be sufficient for 
 the Establishment of this Constitution between the States so ratifying the 
 Same. 
 
 Done in Convention by the Unanimous Consent of the States present, the 
 Seventeenth Diiy of September, in the Year of our Lord one thousand 
 seven hundred and Eighty-seven, and of the Lxlependence of the United 
 States the Twelfth. In Witness whereof We have hereunto subscribed 
 our Names. 
 
 Geo. Washington, 
 President, and deputy from Virginia. 
 PENNSYLVANIA. VIRGINIA. 
 
 Benjamin Fkanklin, John Blair, 
 
 Thomas Mifflin, 
 Robert Morris, 
 George Oltmer, 
 Thomas Fitzsimons, 
 -Tared Ingersoll, 
 James Wilson, 
 gouverneur morris. 
 DELAWARE. 
 George Reed, 
 Gunning Bedford, jr., 
 John Dickinson, 
 Richard Bassett, 
 Jacob Broom. 
 
 MARYLAND. 
 James M'Henry, 
 Daniee of St. Thos. Jenifer, 
 Daniel Carroll. 
 
 Attest : William Jackson, Secretary. 
 
 NEW HAMPSHIRE. 
 John Langdon, 
 Nicholas Gilman. 
 
 MASSACHUSETTS 
 Nathaniel Gorham, 
 RuFcs Kino. 
 
 CONNECTICUT. 
 William Samuel Johnson, 
 Roger Sherman. 
 
 NEW YORK. 
 Alexander Hamilton 
 
 NEW JERSEY. 
 William Livingston, 
 David Bkearley, 
 William Paterson, 
 Jonathan Dayton. 
 
 James Madison, jr. 
 
 NORTH CAROLINA. 
 William Blount, 
 Richard Dobbs Spaight, 
 Hugh Williamson. 
 
 SOUTH CAROLINA. 
 Charles O. Pinokney, 
 Charles Pinckney, 
 John Rutledge, 
 Pierce Butler. 
 
 GEORGIA. 
 William Few, 
 Abraham Baldwin. 
 
504 CONSTITUTION OF THE UNITED STATES. 
 
 AMENDMENTS 
 
 TO THE CONSTITUTION OF THE UNITED STATES, KATIFIED ACCORDING TO 
 THE FEOVISIONS OF THE FIFTH ARTICLE OF THE FOREGOING CONSTI- 
 TUTION. 
 
 Article thk first. Congress shall make no law respecting an establish- 
 ment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof; or abridging the 
 freedom of speech, or of the press ; or the right of the people peaceably to 
 assemble, and to petition the Government for a redress of grievances. 
 
 Article the second. A well-regulated Militia being necessary to the 
 security of a free State, the right of the people to keep and bear Arms, shall 
 not be infringed. 
 
 Article the third. No Soldier shall, in time of peace be quartered in 
 any house, without the consent of the Owner, nor in a time of war, but in a 
 manner to be prescribed by law. 
 
 Article the fourth. The right of the people to be secure in their per- 
 sons, houses, papers, and eflFects, against unreasonable searches and seizures, 
 shall not be violated, and no Warrants shall issue, but upon probable cause, 
 supported by Oath or affirmation, and particularly describing the place to be 
 searched, and the person or things to be seized. 
 
 Article the fifth. No person shall be held to answer for a capital, or 
 otherwise infamous crime, unless on a presentment or indictment of a Grand 
 Jury, except in cases arising in the land or naval forces, or in the Militia, 
 •when in actual service in time of War or public danger ; nor shall any person 
 be subject for the same offense to be twice put in jeopardy of life or limb; 
 nor shall be compelled in any Criminal Case to be a witness against himself, 
 nor be deprived of life, liberty, or property, without due process of law ; nor 
 shall private property be taken for public use, without just compensation. 
 
 Article the sixth. In all criminal prosecutions, the accused shall enjoy 
 the right to a speedy and public trial, by an impartial jury of the State and 
 district wherein the crime shall have been committed, which district shall 
 have been previously ascertained by law, and to be informed of the nature 
 and cause of the accusation ; to be confronted with the witnesses against him ; 
 to have Compulsory process for obtaining Witnesses in his favor, and to have 
 the Assistance of Counsel for his defence. 
 
 Article the seventh. In Suits at common law, where the value in con- 
 troversy shall exceed twenty dollars, the right of trial by jury shall be pre- 
 served, and no fact tried by a jury, shall be otherwise re-examined in any 
 court of the United States, than according to the rules of the common law. 
 
 Article the eighth. Excessive bail shall not be required, nor excessive 
 fines imposed, nor cruel and unusual punishments inflicted. 
 
CONSTITUTION OF THE UNITED STATES. 505 
 
 Article the ninth. The enumeration in tlie Constitution, of certain 
 rights, shall not be construed to deny or disparage others retained by the 
 people. 
 
 Article the tenth. The powers not delegated to the United States, by 
 the Constitution, nor prohibited by it to the states, are reserved to the states 
 respectively, or to the people. 
 
 Article the eleventh. The judicial power of the United States shall not 
 be construed to extend to any suit in law or equity, commenced or prosecuted 
 against one of the United States by Citizens of another State, or by Citizens 
 or Subjects of any Foreign State. 
 
 Article the twelfth. The Electors shall meet in their respective States, 
 and vote by ballot for President and Vice President, one of whom, at least, 
 shall not be an inhabitant of the same state with themselves ; they shall 
 name in their ballots the person voted for ds President, and in distinct ballots 
 the person voted for as Vice President, and they shall make distinct lists of 
 all persons voted for as President, and of all persons voted for as Vice Presi- 
 dent, and of the number of votes for each, which lists they shall sign and cer- 
 tify, and transmit sealed to the seat of the government of the United States, 
 directed to The President of the Senate ; — The President of the Senate shall, 
 in the presence of the Senate and House of Representatives, open all the cer- 
 tificates and the votes shall then be counted ; — the person having the greatest 
 number of votes for President, shall be the President, if such number be a 
 majority of the whole number of electors appointed ; and if no person have 
 such majority, then from the persons having the highest numbers, not ex- 
 ceeding three on the list of those voted for as President, the House of Repre- 
 sentatives shall choose immediately, by ballot, the President. But in choosing 
 the President, the votes shall be taken by states, the representation from each 
 state having one vote ; a quorum for this purpose shall consist of a member 
 or members from tvfo thirds of the States, and a majority of all the states 
 shall be necessary to a choice. And if the House of Representatives shall 
 not choose a President whenever the right of choice shall devolve upon them, 
 before the fourth day of March next following, then the Vice President shall 
 act as President, as in the case of the death or other constitutional disability 
 of the President. The person having the greatest number of votes as Vice 
 President, shall be the Vice President, if such number be a majority of the 
 ■whole number of Electors appointed, and if no person have a majority, then 
 from the two highest numbers on the list, the Senate shall choose the Vice 
 President ; a quorum for the purpose shall consist of two thirds of the whole 
 number of Senators, and a majority of the whole number shall be necessary 
 to a choice. But no person constitutionally ineligible to the office of Presi- 
 dent shall be eligible to that of Vice President of the United States. 
 
I