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A REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 
 
Carpenters' Hall, PhiladelpJtia 
 
A 
 
 REVOLUTIONARY 
 
 PILGRIMAGE 
 
 Being an Account of a Series of Visits to Battlegrounds 
 
 (f Other Places Made Memorable by the 
 
 War of the Revolution 
 
 Written & Illuftrated by 
 
 Ernest Peixotto 
 
 ^&=-i:^ 
 
 NEW YORK 
 
 Printed & Publifhed by 
 
 Charles Scribners Sons 
 MDCCCCXVII 
 
t. Z2o 
 
 Copyright, 1917, by Charles Scribner's Sons 
 Published October, 1917 
 
 OCT 17 1917 
 ©CI.A477061 
 
TO 
 WILLIAM BUNKER 
 
 OF THE STURDY STOCK 
 
 TUAT DEFENDED ITS LIBERTIES IN THE 
 
 WAR OF THE REVOLUTION 
 
 THIS BOOK 
 
 IS AFFECTIONATELY INSCRIBED 
 
PREFACE 
 
 Some years ago I systematically visited the scenes and 
 battle-fields connected with the Revolution, undertaking 
 a sort of pilgrimage — a series of journeys that covered a 
 period of almost fourteen months, my motive being to 
 furnish illustrations for Henry Cabot Lodge's "Story of 
 the Revolution." 
 
 The only book I could procure to guide me was Los- 
 sing's classic "Field-Book of the Revolution," an admi- 
 rable work, indeed, but so bulky, so unwieldy, and so 
 verbose that it makes rather comphcated reading. Be- 
 sides, in many particulars it is now quite out of date. 
 Many of the scenes have radically changed since 1850; 
 many of the landmarks he describes have disappeared; 
 while, on the other hand, much has been done by pa- 
 triotic people to mark and make interesting the Revolu- 
 tionary battle-grounds since his day. 
 
 While engaged upon this pilgrimage I met many peo- 
 ple — local authorities, men of importance, who had made 
 special researches into the history of their own particular 
 region and were kind enough to give me pamphlets and 
 articles that they had written or data that they had col- 
 lected — material that seemed to me most interesting. 
 So, as there appeared to be no recent book devoted to 
 
 vii 
 
PREFACE 
 
 the topographical history of the Revolution, I made up 
 my mind to write one, but one busy period after another 
 has hitherto prevented the accomphshment of that purpose. 
 During this past year, however, I have again gone over 
 the ground, and to my illustrations that originally ap- 
 peared in "The Story of the Revolution" I have added 
 a number of others and particularly a number of maps 
 which I hope may be of real assistance to the reader in 
 following the narrative. 
 
 Now that a new wave of patriotism has swept over the 
 land and created a revival of the "American spirit," as 
 it is called, the moment seems peculiarly propitious to 
 awake anew the story of the deeds of our ancestors — the 
 men who risked their lives and staked their all to found 
 our nation and make its ideals possible. 
 
 I wish to thank all those who helped me on my wan- 
 derings — and they are many — the kind friends and the 
 chance acquaintances who made these journeys interest- 
 ing and pleasurable and aided so much in giving me an 
 opportunity to see things and to unearth documents that 
 I should otherwise have surely overlooked. 
 
 E. R 
 
 New York, 1917 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 PAGE 
 
 INTRODUCTORY 1 
 
 AROUND ROSTON 7 
 
 I. The Reginning 9 
 
 11. Lexington and Concord 17 
 
 III. RuNKER Hill 39 
 
 TICONDEROGA AND LAKE CHAMPLAIN . . 49 
 
 TO THE PLAINS OF SARATOGA 67 
 
 I. Ticonderoga to Fort Edward .... 69 
 
 II. The Green Mountains 76 
 
 III. The Mohawk Valley 87 
 
 IV. Saratoga 101 
 
 DOWN THE HUDSON . ....o ... 115 
 
 AROUT NEW YORK 145 
 
 IN THE JERSEYS 173 
 
 I. Trenton 175 
 
 II. Princeton 191 
 
 III. MORRISTOWN 204 
 
 ix 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 ROUND ABOUT PHILADELPHIA 2T3 
 
 I. Chadd's Ford and the Brandywine . , 215 
 
 11. Germantown 228 
 
 III. Valley Forge 236 
 
 PHILADELPHIA 247 
 
 CAMPAIGNS IN THE CAROLINAS 271 
 
 I. Charleston 273 
 
 II. Through South Carolina 289 
 
 III. Guilford Court House 307 
 
 THROUGH VIRGINIA 315 
 
 I. Williamsburg 317 
 
 II. YORKTOWN 329 
 
 III. Hampton Roads 341 
 
 MOUNT VERNON 345 
 
 WASHINGTON 361 
 
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 
 
 Carpenters' Hall, Philadelphia Frontis'piece ^ 
 
 PAGE 
 
 The Old North 11 
 
 Lexington Green at the Present Time 19 
 
 Buckman Tavern 20 
 
 The Boulder and Harrington House 21 
 
 Major Pitcairn's Pistols 23 
 
 The Wright Tavern, Concord 25 
 
 Barrett House, near Concord 27 
 
 Concord Bridge 29 
 
 Daniel French's Statue of the " Minuteman " 32 
 
 Flag Carried by the Bedford MiUtia at Concord 34 
 
 Grave of British Soldiers near the Bridge at Concord .... 35 
 
 Vicinity of the Washington Elm, Cambridge 47 
 
 The Ruins of Fort Ticonderoga 55 
 
 Ruins of the Officers' Quarters at Ticonderoga 56 
 
 Ruins of Old Fort Frederick, Crown Point 60 
 
 Map Illustrating Burgoyne's Campaign 63 
 
 Map of Ticonderoga 65 
 
 Battle Monument, Bennington 80 
 
 The Catamount Tavern, now completely destroyed 81 
 
 The Ravine near Oriskany 91 
 
 Old Stone Church at German Flats 95 
 
 xi 
 
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 
 
 PAGE 
 
 General Herkimer's House and Grave 98 
 
 Castle Church, near Danube 99 
 
 The Home of General Philip Schuyler at Old Saratoga . . . 103 
 
 Cellar in the Marshall House, Schuylerville, which was Used as a 
 
 Hospital by the British 108 
 
 Old Battle Well, Freeman's Farms 113 
 
 The Hudson River at West Point 124 
 
 Parts of the Great Chain which was Stretched across the Hudson 125 
 
 Old Fort Putnam, Showing the Magazines 131 
 
 Stony Point and the Medal Awarded to Anthony Wayne . . . 135 
 
 Headquarters at Tappan from which the Order for Andre's Execu- 
 tion was Issued 138 
 
 '76 Stone House in which Andre was Imprisoned 140 
 
 Stone Marking the Place of Andre's Execution 142 
 
 Old Houses on State Street, New York City 148 
 
 Tomb of Alexander Hamilton, Trinity Churchyard 149 
 
 The Monument to Montgomery, St. Paul's Church 151 
 
 Washington's Pew, St. Paul's Church 152 
 
 Map of Operations near New York City 153 
 
 View from Old Fort Putnam (now Fort Greene), Brooklyn . 156 
 
 Battle Pass, Prospect Park, Brooklyn 159 
 
 The Jumel Mansion 165 
 
 Site of Fort Washington, Looking toward Fort Lee 171 
 
 The Point at Which Washington Crossed the Delaware River . 179 
 
 Map of Operations around Trenton and Princeton 184 
 
 Old King Street (now Warren Street), Trenton 188 
 
 xii 
 
PAGE 
 
 LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 
 
 The Old Quaker Meeting House, near Princeton 192 
 
 Stony Brook Bridge, near Princeton 193 
 
 House and Boom in Which General Mercer Died . _ . . . . 197 
 
 Nassau Hall, Princeton 199 
 
 Washington's Headquarters, Morristown 207 
 
 Map of Vicinity of Philadelphia 217 
 
 Washington's Headquarters, near Chadd's Ford 219 
 
 Lafayette's Headquarters, near Chadd's Ford 221 
 
 Birmingham Meeting House, near Chadd's Ford 225 
 
 The Chew House, Germantown 231 
 
 The Old Potts House at Valley Forge 239 
 
 View from Fort Huntington, Looking toward Fort Washington 242 
 
 Bell Used in Camp at Valley Forge 243 
 
 The Assembly Boom, Carpenter's HaE 251 
 
 Independence Hall, Chestnut Street Front 255 
 
 Boom in Which the Declaration of Independence was Signed . 257 
 
 View of Independence Hall from the Park Side 258 
 
 Stairway in Independence Hall 259 
 
 The Betsy Boss House 261 
 
 The Pringle House, Charleston 275 
 
 St. Michael's Church 276 
 
 Statue of WiUiam Pitt, Charleston 277 
 
 Charleston Harbor 280 
 
 Fort Moultrie 282 
 
 Map of Campaigns in the Carolinas, Showing Cornwallis's March 
 
 from Charleston to Virginia 291 
 
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Comwallis's Headquarters at Camden, S. C 295 
 
 Monument to Daniel Morgan, Spartanburg 305 
 
 The Battle-field at Guilford Court House 311 
 
 The Home of the President of WilHam and Mary CoUege, WiUiams- 
 
 burg 319 
 
 Bruton Church and the George Wythe House 321 
 
 Hall in Carter's Grove 323 
 
 British Intrenchment at Yorktown, and Map Showing the Posi- 
 tion of the French and American Troops 330 
 
 York River, Seen from the Inner British Works and Looking 
 
 toward Gloucester Point 333 
 
 The Moore House 335 
 
 Principal Street in Yorktown, Showing Monument Commemorat- 
 ing the Surrender 336 
 
 Governor Nelson's Home 337 
 
 Washington's Home at Mount Vernon 349 
 
 Room in Which Washington Died 357 
 
 Tomb of Major L'Enfant at Arlington 367 
 
 XIV 
 
INTRODUCTORY 
 
INTRODUCTORY 
 
 I PROPOSE, on this Revolutionary Pilgrimage, to 
 take the reader, step by step, to all the important 
 localities connected with our War of the Revolu- 
 tion. We shall start at Lexington and Concord, and 
 finish at Yorktown. En route, we shall visit battle-fields 
 and historic sites, and see them as they appear to us to- 
 day. We shall also note what has been done to com- 
 memorate the events that took place upon them and 
 perpetuate their memories. We shall see traces of old 
 redoubts; the ruined walls of Ticonderoga ; the streets of 
 Trenton; the spot where Washington crossed the Dela- 
 ware; the buildings and churches wherein historic events 
 were enacted — the places associated with Washington, 
 Stark, Greene, Marion, Lafayette, and the other heroes 
 of the Revolution. 
 
 I propose also to take with us, as guides, eye-witnesses 
 of the events they describe — those who have left us the 
 best records of what they themselves saw — authors long 
 since silent, contemporaries, sometimes illiterate, of the 
 events they write about, and, in some instances, the chief 
 actors in them; so that we shall read upon the spot, for 
 example, Paul Revere's own account of his "Midnight 
 Ride," Ethan Allen's own narrative of the taking of 
 
 3 
 
INTRODUCTORY 
 
 Ticonderoga; a Princeton student's account of the events 
 that took place about his college; a Quaker's graphic 
 recital of what he saw of the battle of the Brandywine; 
 Major Andre's own description of the "Mischianza," and 
 Cornwalhs's personal despatches of the siege of York- 
 town. 
 
 Thus I hope to make my story vivid and living. For 
 the clarity of my text, I shall omit some of the less im- 
 portant campaigns and treat the main episodes as nearly 
 in chronological order as my journey will permit. For, 
 primarily, I shall tell my story by geographical sections, 
 starting in New England and ending in the South. 
 
 Professor Albert Bushnell Hart wrote, in the "Ameri- 
 can Historical Review," more than a decade ago, that 
 "too little attention has been paid to the geographical 
 and topographical side of American history, and a prime 
 duty of Americans is the preservation and marking of 
 our historical sites," 
 
 I heartily agree with this point of view. My chief 
 hope in writing tliis book is that, by stimulating interest 
 in Revolutionary landmarks, it may indirectly contribute 
 to their worthy and lasting preservation. 
 
 Tlirough the admirable work of local chapters of the 
 Sons and Daughters of the Revolution and of the Order 
 of the Cincinnati, as well as of such active associations 
 as the Society for the Preservation of Virginia Antiquities, 
 many liistoric houses have been rescued from obhvion 
 or destruction, appropriately "restored," and marked 
 with tablets, the best form of inscription for identifica- 
 
 4 
 
INTRODUCTORY 
 
 tioii. These patriotic societies have also placed upon 
 many of the battle-fields of the Revolution unobtrusive 
 " markers," showing positions of troops and sites of in- 
 terest. But much more can be done. 
 
 Many of us know the historic spots round about our 
 own particular locality. The New Englander, for in- 
 stance, knows Bennington and Lexington; the New 
 Yorker, Oriskany and Fort Edward, but could many 
 of them tell me, I wonder, in what State the battles of 
 the Cowpens and King's Mountain were fought — both 
 turning-points in the Revolution.^ And do most of us 
 realize that Valley Forge and the field of Guilford Court 
 House are to-day public parks, set out with memorial 
 arches and monuments ? 
 
 The custom of visiting battle-fields is very prevalent in 
 Europe. Monuments and historic tablets are national 
 methods of education, aiding to visualize the events they 
 commemorate and serving to impress them upon the 
 public mind. From them and their stories, people inspire 
 themselves with patriotism and inculcate it in their chil- 
 dren. In America such is far less the case. The Civil 
 War veterans make pilgrimages to the scenes of their 
 struggles, it is true, but otherwise few of us look back- 
 ward. Our eyes are riveted upon the future, forget- 
 ting that we may learn many important lessons from the 
 teachings of the past. 
 
 Let us, then, in these momentous days, read again the 
 story of our nation's birth; of the sacrifices and abnega- 
 tion of our forefathers before our country became so 
 
INTRODUCTORY 
 
 rich. Let us read again the story of our Revolution, and 
 inspire ourselves anew with the fine old ideals of the 
 "Spirit of 76." 
 
 There is much of interest to be seen on our Revolu- 
 tionary Pilgrimage — surprisingly much, as I think I shall 
 be able to prove, and in these days of automobiles it is 
 an easy matter to visit these historic spots. When I 
 first went over the ground, some years ago, it was 
 quite a different matter, for many of the places were 
 remote from railways, and it took hours of driving to 
 reach them. Because of motors also, the hotels have 
 been much improved since then, many of the old road- 
 houses having been resurrected and converted into pros- 
 perous hostelries, well equipped for comfort and good 
 cheer. 
 
 I have personally visited all the localities described in 
 this book — first, some years ago, as I state in my preface, 
 and again, recently, to refresh my memory and ascertain 
 what further has been done to mark the Revolutionary 
 sites. Both tours were singularly interesting, and I wish 
 my reader the same pleasure that I had, if he should elect 
 to undertake a similar journey. 
 
AROUND BOSTON 
 
AROUND BOSTON 
 
 THE BEGINNING 
 
 OUB pilgrimage will naturally begin in Boston, 
 for in Boston and its vicinity the first organized 
 resistance to British oppression was made; while 
 the old city still conserves more mementoes of the days 
 that preceded the actual outbreak of hostilities than any 
 other in our country. 
 
 The lion and the unicorn on the old State House gable 
 had looked down upon the Boston massacre, when, on 
 a clear March night in 1770, the new-fallen snow was 
 tinged with the blood of unarmed citizens; near the 
 corner of Washington and Essex Streets once stood the 
 Liberty Tree, in whose shade the "Sons of Liberty" 
 used to meet and discuss their grievances. From the 
 door of the Old South Meeting House — still one of the 
 city's venerated landmarks — a crowd of men, disguised as 
 savages, set out for Griffin's wharf, where they boarded 
 the Dartsmouth, the Eleanor, and Beaver and dumped 
 their cargoes of tea into the harbor. 
 
 Through a window above the pulpit of this same 
 meeting-house. Doctor Warren was introduced on the 
 fifth anniversary of the Boston massacre, that is, on the 
 5th of March, 1775, and its walls echoed the ringing 
 
 9 
 
REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 
 
 sentences, bold and prophetic, of his oration to the 
 townspeople : 
 
 "Our streets are again filled with armed men; our 
 harbor is crowded with ships of war, but these cannot 
 intimidate us; our liberty must be preserved, it is dearer 
 than life. . . . Our country is in danger; our enemies 
 are numerous and powerful, but we have many friends 
 and, determining to be free, heaven and earth will aid 
 the resolution. You are to decide the important ques- 
 tion, on which rests the happiness and hberty of millions 
 yet unborn. Act worthy of yourselves." 
 
 Thus events were shaping to a crisis, and the town 
 was a centre of patriotic ferment. John Hancock and 
 Samuel Adams were busy. Paul Revere and his friends 
 were holding their meetings at the Green Dragon Tavern, 
 and carefully watching the movements of the Rritish 
 troops. 
 
 Near where this tavern once stood, in the North End, 
 — once Boston's "Little Britain," now its "Little Italy," 
 — fronting the small triangular North Square, still stands 
 a humble dwelling. When Paul Revere bought it, in 1770, 
 it was nearly a hundred years old, and it still looks almost 
 as it did when first built. A patriotic group, the Paul 
 Revere Memorial Association, has cleared away excres- 
 cences, replaced the old diamond-shaped, leaded window- 
 panes, and the square, fat chimney, and closed the shops 
 that once disfigured its front, so that now the house has 
 again assumed the appearance it had when Paul Revere 
 occupied it in 1775. His own flintlock hangs above the 
 
 10 
 
AROUND BOSTON 
 
 living-room mantel; his toddy-warmer is on the kitchen 
 shelf; and prints from his copper-plates and his adver- 
 tisements in the "broadsides" — the single-sheet news- 
 papers of the day — ^are displayed in the rooms up-stairs. 
 From this very house, as we see it to-day, he set forth 
 on his famous "midnight ride." 
 
 But a few minutes' walk away, over in Salem Street, 
 Christ Church, now known as the Old North, rears its 
 shapely spire. So conspicuously did this once tower above 
 the houses on Copp's Hill that 
 by it mariners used to shape 
 their course up the bay. 
 
 If you are agile enough you 
 still may chmb this steeple. A 
 flight of wooden stairs leads 
 first to the bell-ringer's cham- 
 ber, then on to the bell-loft 
 itself, where hang eight bells, 
 whose inscriptions, cast in the 
 bronze, tell their remarkable 
 history. On number one you 
 read: "This peal of bells is 
 the gift of generous persons to 
 Christ Church, Boston, 
 New England, Anno 
 1744"; on number 
 three : ' ' We are the first 
 ring of bells cast for ^ 
 
 the British Empire in THE "OLD t^ORTH 
 
 ^1 I 
 
 Tilt Signal L« 
 
 Item! 
 
 of 
 
 PAUL REVERE 
 
 
 difpla^cd in the ft«pl 
 
 t of thi 
 
 s church 
 
 April 1 8 
 
 /75 
 
 
 warned the country 
 
 of iht 
 
 march 
 
 rf the Bntilh 
 
 loopi 
 
 o 
 
 Lexington md 
 
 CONCORD. 1 
 
REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 
 
 North America"; and on number eight: "Abel Rudhall 
 of Gloucester cast us all. Anno 1744." Their joyful voices 
 sounded the repeal of the Stamp Act and proclaimed 
 Cornwallis's surrender and, in between, many another 
 event of those stirring Revolutionary days. 
 
 From the loft in which they hang I mounted again, 
 by a succession of hazardous ladders, to a gallery above 
 them, and thence to the lantern that forms the crown- 
 ing feature of the steeple, turning a round-headed window 
 to each point of the compass. The sun poured merrily 
 into the eastern window, through which I could see far 
 down the bay, with its shipping and necks of land. 
 From the south window I could discern the sky-scrapers 
 and big office-buildings of the modern city, and the gilded 
 dome of the State House shining conspicuously on the 
 top of Reacon Hill. The west window revealed, above 
 thei tree-tops of Copp's Hill burning-ground, the Charles 
 River, with its terminals and dockyards, and Cambridge 
 spreading out beyond; while, to the north, the Runker 
 Hill monument pointed like a giant finger upward above 
 the red houses of Charlestown. 
 
 From my conspicuous point of vantage I realized so 
 well how far the beacons, placed within tliis lantern, 
 could cast their fitful beams — how plainly they could be 
 seen from all the countryside. And this was Paul Re- 
 vere's thought when he agreed with Colonel Conant, in 
 Cambridge, to place his signal lanterns in the Old North 
 steeple. 
 
 I shall now let Paul Revere himself tell the story of 
 
 n 
 
AROUND BOSTON 
 
 these lanterns, and of his famous ride on the night of the 
 18th of April, 1775.* 
 
 "In the fall of 1774 and winter of 1775, I was one of 
 upwards thirty, chiefly mechanics, who formed ourselves 
 into a committee for the purpose of watching the move- 
 ments of the British soldiers and gaining every intelli- 
 gence of the movements of the tories. We held our meet- 
 ings at the Green Dragon Tavern. We were so careful 
 that our meetings should be kept secret, that every time 
 we met, every person swore upon the bible that they would 
 not discover any of our transactions but to Messrs. 
 Hancock, Adams, Doctors Warren, Church, and one or 
 two more. . . . 
 
 "The Saturday night preceding the 19th of April 
 about 12 o'clock at night, the boats belonging to the trans- 
 ports were all launched, and carried under the sterns of 
 the men-of-war. . . . On Tuesday evening, the 18th, 
 it was observed that a number of soldiers were marching 
 towards the bottom of the Common. About 10 o'clock. 
 Dr. Warren sent in great haste for me and begged that I 
 would immediately set off for Lexington, where Messrs. 
 Hancock and Adams were, and acquaint them with the 
 movement and that it was thought they were the 
 objects. . . . 
 
 "The Sunday before, by desire of Dr. Warren, I had 
 been to Lexington to Messrs. Hancock and Adams who 
 were at the Rev. Mr. Clark's. I returned at night 
 through Charlestown; there I agreed with a Colonel 
 Conant, and some other gentlemen, that, if the British 
 went out by water, we would shew two lanthorns in the 
 north church steeple; and if by land, one, as a signal; 
 
 * A letter from Colonel Paul Revere to the corresponding secretary, in the 
 "Collections of the Massachusetts Historical Society," for the year 1798. 
 
 13 
 
REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 
 
 for we were apprehensive it would be difficult to cross 
 the Charles River, or get over Boston Neck. I left 
 Dr. Warren, called upon a friend,* and desired him to 
 make the signals. I then went home, took my boots 
 and surtout, went to the north part of the town where 
 I had kept a boat; two friends rowed me across Charles 
 River, a little to the eastward where the Somerset man 
 of war lay. It was then young flood, the ship was wind- 
 ing, and the moon was rising. They landed me on the 
 Charlestown side. When I got into town, I met Colonel 
 Conant and several others; they said they had seen our 
 signals. I told them what was acting and went to get 
 me a horse; I got a horse of Deacon Larkin. . . . 
 
 "I set off upon a very good horse; it was then about 
 eleven o'clock, and very pleasant. After I had passed 
 Charlestown Neck, and got nearly opposite where Mark 
 was hung in chains, I saw two men on horseback, under 
 a tree. When I got near them, I discovered they were 
 British officers. One tried to get ahead of me, and the 
 other to take me. I turned my horse quick and galloped 
 toward Charlestown Neck, and then pushed for Medford 
 road. . . . The one who chased me, endeavoring to cut 
 me off, got into a clay pond, near where the new tavern 
 is now built. I got clear of him, and went through Med- 
 ford, over the bridge, and up to Menotomy. In Medford, 
 I awaked the Captain of the minute men; and after that 
 I alarmed almost every house till I got to Lexington. I 
 found Messrs. Hancock and Adams at the rev. Mr. 
 Clark's. . . ." 
 
 Now, before he proceeds, let us follow him thus far 
 upon his road. According to his narrative, he crossed 
 
 * His old friend. Captain John Pulling, a merchant of Boston and a 
 vestryman of Christ Church. 
 
 14 
 
AROUND BOSTON 
 
 the Charles somewhere in the vicinity of present-day 
 Charlestown Bridge, passed via the Neck into Cambridge, 
 and started out to Lexington by the main road, now called 
 Massachusetts Avenue. But, meeting the officers, he 
 turned back, took the Medford Road through Somerville, 
 and across the Mystic lowlands. 
 
 This route to-day forms part of the city's suburbs, 
 and is built up until you attain the Mystic River, where 
 first you reach open country. Following it recently, I 
 found the Mystic lowlands newly parked and set out 
 with lawns and avenues of trees. Soon we came into the 
 twisting streets of old Medford, with its comfortable 
 houses shaded by towering elms — one of those pleasant 
 towns that impart such charm to the environs of Boston, 
 its newer homes interspersed with just enough old dwell- 
 ings to give variety and create the special atmosphere 
 that characterizes the older settlements of Massachusetts. 
 
 At Medford Common we turned sharp to the left and 
 made for West Medford, where a sign-board, nailed to a 
 tree, told us we were really upon the right trail and fol- 
 lowing "Paul Revere's Ride." We crossed the Mystic 
 "over the bridge," as he says, with the Mystic Lakes 
 lying off to the right, and then came "up to Menotomy," 
 now Arlington, its old name, however, perpetuated upon 
 the sign of one of the local banks. 
 
 Here at Arlington we met the main road from Boston, 
 to which I have alluded — Massachusetts Avenue — the 
 road that Paul Revere started to take when he fell in 
 with the officers; and the one that the British troops did 
 
 15 
 
REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 
 
 take later in the night, when they set out for Lexington 
 in the darkness, marching in secrecy and silence, to ar- 
 rest "Messrs. Hancock and Adams and then, at Con- 
 cord, to seize the military stores known to be collected 
 there." 
 
 16 
 
II 
 
 LEXINGTON AND CONCORD 
 
 MASSACHUSETTS AVENUE leads directly 
 through Arlington and East Lexington to 
 Lexington Green. As you turn its last elbow 
 and pass the historic Munroe Tavern * you perceive 
 straight before you, Henry Kitson's bronze statue of the 
 Minuteman, gun in hand, peering down the road from 
 the top of a great boulder, watching expectantly for the 
 British Regulars. 
 
 And thus did the minutemen, warned by Paul Revere 
 and by William Dawes, another messenger who arrived 
 a little later, stand in the gray dawn of the 19th of April, 
 expectant, calm, and firm, grimly awaiting the arrival 
 of the redcoats. 
 
 Revere, after warning the people of Lexington, had en- 
 deavored to reach Concord and spread the alarm there, 
 but half-way he was intercepted by a British patrol and 
 taken back to Lexington where the officers relieved him 
 of his horse and left him. 
 
 He thus resumes his narrative in a sworn statement 
 that I have before me in a facsimile of his original hand- 
 writing : 
 
 " I then went to the house where I left Messrs. Adams 
 and Hancock, and told them what had happened; their 
 
 * See page 37. 
 17 
 
REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 
 
 friends advised them to go out of the way; I went with 
 them about two miles a cross road; after resting myself. 
 I sett off with another man to go to the Tavern to en- 
 quire the News; when we got there, we were told the 
 troops were within two miles. We went into the Tavern 
 to git the Trunk of papers belonging to Col. Hancock; 
 before we left the house, I saw the Ministerial Troops 
 from the Chamber window. We made haste and had 
 to pass thro' our Mihtia, who were on a green behind the 
 meeting house, to the number as I supposed of about 
 50 or 60. I went thro' them; as I passed, I heard the 
 commanding officer speake to his men to this purpose, 
 'Lett the troops pass by, and don't molest them, with- 
 out they begin first.' 
 
 "I had to go a cross road, but had not got half gun 
 shot off, when the Ministerial troops appeared on right 
 behind the Meeting House; they made a short halt, 
 when one gun was fired; I heard the report, turned my 
 head, and saw the smoake in front of the Troops, they 
 immediately gave a great shout, ran a few paces, and then 
 the whole fired." 
 
 This, his account, agrees perfectly with recorded his- 
 tory. The tavern to which he alludes, still fronts upon 
 the Green, and is known as the Buckman Tavern. In it 
 the militia assembled that morning, and from it marched 
 forth to take their place upon the Common. Their 
 line is marked by a rough boulder that bears upon its 
 face Captain Parker's words, substantially as Revere 
 records them: "Stand your ground; don't fire until fired 
 upon, but if they mean to have a war let it begin here." 
 
 If you place yourself beside this boulder, it will take 
 
 18 
 
AROUND BOSTON 
 
 but little imagination to reconstruct the scene. The big, 
 barn-like meeting-house stood near the statue of the 
 Minuteman, where a tablet marks its site. The old 
 wooden belfry, so clearly shown in Doolittle's primitive 
 engraving of the scene, stood near it. ''The Ministerial 
 
 Lexington Green at the Present Time 
 
 troops appeared on right behind the Meeting House" 
 and formed their line with Major Pitcairn at their head. 
 The fu-st shot was fired from his pistol. Jonathan Har- 
 rington, one of the patriots who fell at the first volley, 
 dragged himself to his house, that still stands behind you, 
 and died at his wife's feet. 
 
 Beyond, a little way up the Woburn Road, stands the 
 home of the Reverend Jonas Clark, in which Hancock 
 and Adams were sleeping when awakened by Paul Re- 
 vere. This Clark house is the most interesting of all 
 
 19 
 
REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 
 
 r" 
 
 
 
 
 2^ - 
 
 
 Buckmaii Tavern 
 
 the present-day structures of Lexington, and we grate- 
 fully owe its preservation from destruction to the efforts 
 of the Lexington Historical Society. Its oldest portion, 
 the one-story ell, was built in 1698 by the Reverend John 
 Hancock, who reared his five children in it. His second 
 son, grown a wealthy Roston merchant, built on the 
 main portion of the house for his father, who died in it 
 
 20 
 
AROUND BOSTON 
 
 in 1752. Three years later the Reverend Jonas Clark, 
 who had married one of Hancock's granddaughters, 
 moved in to become the village pastor. 
 
 Edward Everett, who knew Clark, recalls his sym- 
 pathetic voice, "to wliich all listened with reverence 
 and dehght," and describes him as a clergyman who 
 "enlightened and animated the popular mind," a learned 
 theologian, a correct and careful writer. As we have 
 just seen, he was related by marriage to the John Han- 
 cock of the Revolutionary period, who had spent many 
 of his boyhood days in this old home of his grand- 
 father. 
 
 On the 18th of April, 1775, there was another guest 
 in the house besides the two distinguished patriots who 
 occupied the large room on the ground floor. This was 
 Dorothy Quincy, John Hancock's betrothed, whom he 
 
 ■W^i* 
 
 
 
 
 
 -, ^// 
 
 — // CONTflRE LNLESS FIRED (.I'D 1 ^t 
 
 — '=^^ ■^ BjT ir T^^;Y wcan to nft c a ^ap ^ 
 
 UT IT HFG 1 HER.L f 
 
 The Boulder and Harrington House > 
 
 21 
 
REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 
 
 married in the following August — the one romantic note 
 in all this grim Lexington tragedy. 
 
 Paul Revere tells us that Hancock and Adams left 
 Mr. Clark's house after his second warning. Rut the 
 pastor remained, and he has written for posterity a clear 
 account of what he himself saw from his own house, for 
 at that time there was nothing but open country be- 
 tween the parsonage and the village green. I quote the 
 following extracts from his little-known narrative: 
 
 "At half an hour after four (in the morning) alarm 
 guns were fwed and the drums beat to arms; the militia 
 were collecting together. About 50 or 60, or possibly 
 more, were on the parade, others coming toward it. In 
 the mean time the troops, having stolen a march upon 
 us, and, to prevent any intelligence of their approach, 
 having seized and held prisoners several persons whom 
 they met unarmed, seemed to come determined for mur- 
 der and bloodshed; and that whether provoked to it or 
 not ! W hen within half a quarter of a mile of the meet- 
 ing house, they halted and the command was given to 
 prime and load; which being done, they marched on till 
 they came up to the east end of said meeting house, in 
 sight of our militia, (collecting as aforesaid) who were 
 about 12 or 13 rods distant. . . . Immediately upon 
 their appearing so suddenly and so nigh Captain Parker, 
 who commanded the niiUtia, ordered the men to disperse 
 and take care of themselves ; and not to fire. — LTpon this 
 our men dispersed; — but many of them not so speedily 
 as they might have done. 
 
 "About the same time, tliree officers . . . advanced 
 to the front of the body and . . . one of them cried 
 
 22 
 
AROUND BOSTON 
 
 out 'Ye villains, ye rebels, disperse. Damn you dis- 
 perse ' or words to that effect. . . . The second of these 
 officers, about this time, fired a pistol toward the mihtia 
 as they were dispersing . . . which was immediately 
 followed by a discharge of arms from said troops, suc- 
 ceeded by a very heavy and close fire upon our party, dis- 
 persing, so long as any of them were within reach. Eight 
 were left dead upon the ground! Ten were wounded. 
 The rest of the com- 
 pany, through divine 
 goodness, were (to a 
 miracle) preserved in 
 this murderous ac- 
 tion ! . . . One circum- 
 stance more ; before 
 the brigade quitted 
 Lexington, to give a further specimen of the spirit and 
 character of the officers and men of this body of troops. 
 After the mihtia company were dispersed and the firing 
 ceased, the troops drew up and formed in a body on the 
 common, fired a volley and gave three huzzas by way of 
 triumph, and as expression of the joy of victory and glory 
 of conquest ! Of this transaction I was a witness, having 
 at that time a fair view of their motions, and being at 
 a distance of not more than 70 or 80 rods from them." 
 
 Major Pifcairns Pistols 
 
 Treasured in the Clark house, from which the patriot- 
 minister watched this scene, I found the bell-clapper 
 that sounded the alarm from the wooden belfry, and the 
 very drum that Wilhani Diamond beat to assemble the 
 mihtia that April morning. There, too, is the identical 
 brace of pistols that belonged to Major Pitcairn, and from 
 which he fired the first shot of the war — weapons that 
 
 23 
 
REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 
 
 he lost later in the day, together with his horse and ac- 
 coutrements, when he was wounded in a skirmish at 
 Fisk's Hill. The pistols were sold to Nathan Barrett, 
 of Concord, who in turn presented them to General 
 Israel Putnam, and he carried them throughout the war. 
 
 Half an hour after giving their "three huzzas," the 
 British troops took up their inarch again and proceeded 
 to Concord, six miles away, with the purpose of seiz- 
 ing the mihtary stores collected there in the Barrett 
 house. 
 
 Thither we shall now follow them by the same road 
 that they took — a highway that winds up and down 
 through a rough and broken country, interspersed with 
 little groves of pines and cedars. Stone walls and apple- 
 orchards border the road, and over them at times, on 
 the liill-crests, you see out to far distances and obtain 
 views of rolling fields dotted here and there with farm- 
 houses. 
 
 About midway to Concord we noticed a tablet record- 
 ing the fact that here "ended the midnight ride of Paul 
 Revere," for it was at this spot that he was stopped by 
 the British patrol. Longfellow, in the celebrated poem 
 that has made of Revere's name a household word, takes 
 him farther than he went: 
 
 "It was two by the village clock. 
 When he came to the bridge in Concord town," 
 
 which lines are not borne out by fact, as Paul Revere 
 never reached old Concord. 
 
 24 
 
AROUND BOSTON 
 
 We did, however, and as the hilly road from Lexington 
 finally led us into the town memories other than those 
 connected with the Revolution for a moment crowded 
 my brain. There, to the right, rose the gables of "The 
 Wayside" that was Hawthorne's home; then we passed 
 
 The W rigid Tavern. Coiirord 
 
 Orchard House and the School of Philosophy, so inti- 
 mately connected with the Alcotts, and opposite the calm 
 white house set in pine-trees where Ralph Waldo Emer- 
 son wrote his "Essays." 
 
 But as soon as we reached Concord Green the Revolu- 
 tionary atmosphere returned, for the great white meet- 
 ing-house, now somewhat modernized, the old burying- 
 
 25 
 
REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 
 
 ground with its slate headstones, and, most of all, the 
 Wright Tavern, all vividly recall the events that pre- 
 ceded the Concord fight. At the tavern that still turns 
 its shingle to the road and retains much of its old-time 
 appearance, Major Pitcairn, the sinister hero of the day, 
 stopped for his glass of toddy and gave vent to his idle 
 boasts. 
 
 When making the accompanying drawings I spent a 
 fortnight in this ancient hostelry, seduced by the charm 
 of a neat room "up-chamber," with its view, tlirough 
 chintz curtains and small window-panes, of the great 
 white meeting-house opposite, where the First Provin- 
 cial Congress met. Indeed, so charming a place is 
 Concord that I recall that sojourn with the greatest 
 pleasure. 
 
 To reach the battle-ground, you follow Monument 
 Street until you pass, upon your right, an old house with 
 a bullet still embedded in its wall. Then you turn 
 toward the river, beside the Old Manse, hallowed by so 
 many memories, "worthy to have been one of the time- 
 honored parsonages of England, in which, through many 
 generations, a succession of holy occupants pass from 
 youth to age and bequeath each an inheritance of sanc- 
 tity to pervade the house and hover over it as with an 
 atmosphere," to quote Hawthorne's own description of 
 it. Its back windows overlook the Old North Bridge 
 and the battle-field. From one of them — a window 
 in the study upon the second floor, in which her 
 grandson, Ralph Waldo Emerson ^ later wrote his "Na- 
 
 26 
 
AROUND BOSTON 
 
 ture," and in which Hawthorne prepared for the press 
 his "Mosses from an Old Manse" — Phoebe Bhss Emer- 
 son, wife of the parish minister and grandmother of 
 Ralph Waldo, watched the battle that memorable April 
 morning. 
 
 Her direct descendants still occupy the Manse, and 
 have preserved its rare and subtle atmosphere intact, for 
 the portraits that hang in the hall, the antique furniture, 
 the panelling and the hand-printed wall-papers of the 
 old rooms still compose a perfect picture of the life of 
 long ago. 
 
 Recently, when we were visiting some friends who live 
 just out of Concord, these people were among the guests 
 at dinner. Later in the evening, I read to them the fol- 
 lowing account of the Concord fight, a document that I 
 unearthed, re- 
 produced in fac- 
 simile, and of 
 which they had 
 never heard, nor 
 had any of the 
 other Concord 
 people that I 
 met. It was ;2?^ 
 written by an 
 
 Amos Barrett, '^ ..^ 
 
 but what rela- 
 tion, if any, he .- ■ - 
 
 was to Colonel Barrett House, near Concord 
 
 27 
 
 
REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 
 
 James Barrett, who commanded the Concord minute- 
 men, I have not been able to ascertain. 
 
 His is the most grapliic eye-witness's account of the 
 battle that I have been able to find. He prefaces his 
 story by telling of the march of the British troops tlirough 
 Cambridge and Lexington toward Concord, and then 
 continues : 
 
 "We at Concord heard that they were coming. The 
 bell rung at three o'clock for alarm. As I was a minute 
 man, I was soon in town and found my captain and the 
 rest of my company at the post. It wasn't long before 
 there was another minute company. (One company, I 
 believe, of minute men was raised in almost every town, 
 to stand at a minute's warning.) Before sunrise there 
 were I beheve 150 of us and more of all that was there. 
 We thought we would go and meet the British. We 
 marched down towards Lexington about a mile or mile 
 and a half and we see them a-coming. We halted and 
 staid till they got within about 100 rods, then ordered 
 to the about face and marched before them with our 
 drums and fifes going and also the British. We had grand 
 music. We marched into town and over the north bridge 
 a little more than half a mile and then on a hill not far 
 from the bridge, where we could see and hear what was 
 a-going on. . . . 
 
 "While we were on the hill by the bridge, there were 
 80 or 90 British came to the bridge and there made a 
 halt. After a while they began to tear the planks from 
 the bridge. Major Buttrick said if we were all his mind, 
 he would drive them away from the bridge — they should 
 not tear that up. We all said we would go. We, then, 
 were not loaded. We were all ordered to load, and had 
 
 28 
 
Concord Bridge 
 
AROUND BOSTON 
 
 strict orders not to fire till they fired first, then to fire as 
 fast as we could. We then marched on. Capt. Davis' 
 company marched first, then Capt. Allen's minute com- 
 pany, the one I was in, next. We marched 2 deep. It 
 was a long corsay (causeway) being round by the river. 
 
 "Capt. Davis had got I believe within 15 rods of the 
 British when they fired 3 guns, one after another. I see 
 the ball strike in the river on the right of me. As soon 
 as they fired them, they fired on us. The balls whistled 
 well. We then were all ordered to fire that could fire 
 and not kill our own men. It is strange there were no 
 more killed but they fired too liigh. Capt. Davis was 
 killed and Mr. Osmore (Hosmer) and a number wounded. 
 We soon drove them from the bridge, when I got over, 
 there were 2 lay dead and another almost dead. We did 
 not follow them. There were 8 or 10 that were wounded 
 and a-running and hobbhng about, looking back to see 
 if we were after them. 
 
 "We then saw the whole body coming out of town. 
 We were then ordered to lay behind a wall that run over 
 a hill and when they got near enough Maj. Buttrick 
 said he would give the word fire. But they did not come 
 so near as he expected before they halted. The com- 
 manding officer ordered the whole battalion to halt and 
 officers to the front march. The officers then marched 
 to the front. There we lay behind the wall, about 200 
 of us, with our guns cocked, expecting every minute to 
 have the word, fire. Our orders were if we fired, to fire 
 2 or 3 times and then retreat. If we had fired, I beheve 
 we would have killed almost every officer there was in the 
 front; but we had no orders to fire and they wan't again 
 fired (on), they staid about 10 minutes and then marched 
 back and we after them. After a while we found them 
 marching back toward Boston. We were soon after them. 
 
 31 
 
REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 
 
 "When they got about a mile and a half to a road 
 that comes from Bedford and Bildrica (Billerica) they 
 
 were waylaid and a great 
 many killed. When I got 
 there, a great many lay dead 
 and the road was bloody." * 
 
 This account, I tliink, gives 
 a clear idea of the successive 
 phases of the fight; the as- 
 sembhng of the various com- 
 panies on Concord Green; 
 their march to meet the 
 British; their retirement to 
 the hill beyond the North 
 Bridge; their assault upon 
 the troops who attempted to 
 destroy it; the arrival of re- 
 inforcements for the British, 
 and the beginning of thek 
 retreat. 
 
 The battle-ground is still 
 a secluded spot, propitious 
 for meditation. The placid 
 river, well named Concord, 
 flows silently by, threading 
 its way through the meadows. 
 
 Daniel French's Statue of 
 the " Minutemmi" 
 
 * Captain Amos Barrett was afterward at Bunker Hill and at Burgoyne's 
 surrender. He himself says: "I was in the whole of it from Concord to 
 Bunker Hill." I have corrected some of his errors of orthography, but 
 left enough to give color to the picturesque narrative. 
 
 32 
 
AROUND BOSTON 
 
 As I sat sketching, I could perceive no sound above its 
 murmur, but the rusthng of the leaves, the chirping of 
 birds, or the squeak of a squirrel cracking nuts in the trees 
 above my head. An old-fashioned monument, by the 
 bridge-head, marks the position of the British troops and 
 
 is thus inscribed: 
 
 Here 
 
 On the 19th of April, 1775 
 
 was made the first forcible resistance to 
 
 BRITISH AGGRESSION 
 
 On the opposite bank stood the American 
 
 Militia, and on this spot the first of the enemy fell 
 
 in the WAR OF THE REVOLUTION 
 
 which gave Independence to these United States. 
 
 In gratitude to God, and in the name of freedom 
 
 This Monument is erected 
 
 A.D. 1836. 
 
 But a few steps from it lie the three British soldiers w ho 
 fell in the fight, buried within an enclosure marked off 
 by stone posts, connected by a chain. Since I made my 
 draw ing their graves have been designated with a tablet. 
 The bridge has been rebuilt recently, but upon the same 
 old lines. Beyond it stands Daniel French's fine bronze 
 statue of the "Minuteman" alive, alert, with one hand 
 upon his plough, the other firmly grasping his fhnt-lock 
 as he hurries off to assembly. Behind him rises the gentle 
 slope of Battle Lawn, as it is called, "the hill not far from 
 the bridge," to which Amos Barrett refers, and on which 
 he took up his position with the minutemen. 
 
 There was, as far as is known, but one flag that waved 
 
 33 
 
REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 
 
 Flag Carried by 
 the 'Bedford 
 Militia at 
 Concord 
 
 over the "embattled farmers" that April morning, I 
 knew of its existence and had seen it before and made 
 a drawing of it. But I wished to refresh my memory. 
 So one morning we motored over to Bedford, only a few 
 miles from Concord, and drew up be- 
 fore an old house railed off from the 
 road by prim white palings. There I 
 found the gentleman who had been so 
 kind to me upon my former visit. He 
 took us over to the town hall, and led 
 us down into the basement. Hanging 
 his hat upon an electric bulb, so that 
 he would "not forget to put out the 
 electric lights again," he took us to a 
 great safe built in the wall. This he 
 opened and disclosed an inner safe. It, in turn, con- 
 tained a smaller compartment, especially made to 
 receive the flag, wliich is placed between two plates of 
 glass so that both sides can be seen. It is a piece of 
 handsome crimson damask, upon which has been painted 
 a mailed arm and hand grasping a dagger, surrounded 
 by a ribbon on which is the singularly appropriate de- 
 vice: Vince aut morire. 
 
 While we were looking at it he told us its story. It 
 Avas made in England, and sent out to the militia of 
 Middlesex County about 1670. It became one of their 
 accepted standards, and as such was used by the Bedford 
 company. It belonged by inheritance to the Page family, 
 and Nathaniel Page was cornet and color-bearer at the 
 
 34 
 
AROUND BOSTON 
 
 time of the Concord fight. When aroused by the early 
 morning summons of the 19th of April, he seized it and 
 hurried off to join his company — the Bedford Company — - 
 which was assembhng at the Fitch Tavern. 
 
 Our kind host, Mr. Jenks (whose mother was a Fitch), 
 then led us back to his own home again — once the Fitch 
 Tavern, the house behind the white palings, to which I 
 have alluded — and we entered the very room in which the 
 minutemen assembled that April morning. In its corner 
 still stands the cupboard from which drinks were served, 
 and here Jonathan Wilson, the company's captain, who 
 was killed later in the day, uttered his well-known words: 
 "It's a cold breakfast, boys, but we'll give the British 
 a hot dinner; we'll have every dog of them before night." 
 
 * tt 
 
 Grave of British Soldiers near the Bridge at Concord 
 
 35 
 
REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 
 
 The house is filled with souvenirs, and we went about 
 with our friend and his sister and saw their family trea- 
 sures: portraits and furniture, books and mementos; the 
 frocks and slippers that once set off the charms of their 
 great-grandmother; the fans and hair combs that are 
 now carefully laid away in cabinets. 
 
 You will remember that Captain Amos Barrett con- 
 cludes his narrative with these two sentences: "When 
 they [the British] got about a mile and a half to the road 
 that comes from Bedford and Bildrica [Billerica] they 
 were waylaid and a great many killed. When I got there 
 a great many lay dead and the road was bloody." These 
 words refer to the fight at the crossroads that are now 
 known as Merriam's Corner. 
 
 After the fight at the North Bridge the British com- 
 mander, Colonel Smith, seeing the militia gathering from 
 every side, and apprehending very serious trouble, had 
 already despatched a messenger for reinforcements, when 
 at about noon he decided to start back by the way he had 
 come, and reach Boston while yet he could. Here, at Mer- 
 riam's Corner, he was first set upon by the militia com- 
 panies. Carved upon a stone, at the crossroads we read : 
 
 The British troops 
 
 retreating from the 
 
 Old North Bridge 
 
 were here attacked in flank 
 
 by the men of Concord 
 
 and neighboring towns 
 
 and driven under a hot fire 
 
 to Charlestown. 
 
 36 
 
AROUND BOSTON 
 
 These words sound the key-note of the disastrous re- 
 treat. The minutemen, in deadly earnest, enraged at 
 the death of their comrades, hiding behind fences and 
 barns, utihzing every point of vantage, picked off the 
 British soldiers, who, worn by their long night march 
 and by the various events of the day, dusty and be- 
 draggled, harassed incessantly by the fire of their hidden 
 enemies, plodded doggedly on, finally making their way 
 back to Lexington, but leaving many of their number 
 lying upon the road. 
 
 In Lexington, fortunately for them, they were met 
 by the reinforcements sent out by General Gage from 
 Boston, with Lord Percy in command. He had taken 
 up his position at the Munroe Tavern, already mentioned, 
 and had planted two field-pieces on the high ground near 
 it. He had formed his nine hundred men into a hollow 
 square, and into this hving fortress the jaded regulars re- 
 treated, so exhausted that many fell upon the ground, with 
 their "tongues hanging out," to take a moment's respite. 
 
 But not for long. To reach the protection of Boston 
 before night was imperative. So, tired and hungry, they 
 resumed their march again, fighting intermittent skir- 
 mishes all the way, until, toward nightfall, they reached 
 Cambridge with their enemies still hanging close upon 
 their heels. Here they found the bridge across the 
 Charles torn up, so, retreating over the Neck, they finally 
 attained Charlestown, where they encamped for the night 
 on Bunker Hill, with two hundred and seventy-three of 
 their number missing. 
 
 37 
 
REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 
 
 Thus closed that memorable day — the day that stirred 
 men to decisive action, and from which may be dated 
 "the liberty of the American world." 
 
 I feel that I cannot better terminate tliis chapter de- 
 voted to its stirring events than by quoting the sentence 
 with which Richard Henry Dana concluded his oration, 
 delivered at Lexington on the 19th of April, 1875, before 
 the President of the LTnited States and a distinguished 
 company, met to celebrate the hundredth anniversary of 
 the fight: 
 
 "God grant, that, if the day of peril shall come, the 
 people of this republic, so favored, so numerous, so pros- 
 perous, so rich, so educated, so triumphant, may meet 
 it — and we can ask no more — with as much intelligence, 
 self-control, self-devotion, and fortitude as did the men 
 of this place, in their fewness, simplicity, and poverty, 
 one hundred years ago!" 
 
 38 
 
Ill 
 
 BUNKER HILL 
 
 THE 19th of April, 1775, was followed by a month 
 or two of feverish activity in and around Boston, 
 and, indeed, throughout all the American col- 
 onies. Tidings of the fights at Lexington and Concord 
 spread like wild-fire through the land. East and west, 
 north and south, as the message flew from the Green 
 Mountain intervales to the cypress swamps of the Caro- 
 linas, patriots sprang to arms. 
 
 The Rhode Island Assembly voted an "army of ob- 
 servation," and appointed Nathaniel Greene, an iron- 
 master, who was destined to become second only to 
 Washington liimself in the high command, as its brigadier. 
 Twelve hundred men from the New Hampshire Grants, 
 with gallant John Stark at their head, marched into the 
 camp at Cambridge; while Israel Putnam led the men of 
 Connecticut as they came to join their comrades near 
 Boston. So that soon the American lines extended from 
 Prospect Hill, to the north of Cambridge, all the way to 
 Roxbury, both wings being protected by intrenchments. 
 Meanwhile, the British garrison in Boston had also 
 been reinforced by the arrival of fresh regiments from 
 England, with three distinguished generals — Howe, Clin- 
 
 39 
 
REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 
 
 ton, and Burgoyne — names we shall often meet hereafter. 
 But this proud army and the governor himself found 
 themselves besieged within their own city, quite sur- 
 rounded by land if not by sea. It was a serious situa- 
 tion, and the British generals decided to combat it by 
 fortifying Dorchester Heights on the one hand, and 
 Bunker Hill on the other, thus threatening both Ameri- 
 can flanks. 
 
 This intention became known to the patriots, so, to 
 forestall the scheme, a httle army was paraded in the 
 camp at Cambridge on the evening of the 16th of June 
 • — a clear, warm night — and furnished with picks and 
 shovels. President Langdon of Harvard offered up a 
 prayer, and the citizen-soldiers set out for Charlestown. 
 There they halted on Bunker Hill, but the engineers de- 
 cided that Breed's Hill, just beyond, was better suited 
 to their purpose. In grim silence, Colonel Gridley 
 traced the lines for the intrenchments, and the men fell 
 to work with their picks and shovels in the darkness. 
 
 Not a word was spoken, for there, directly below them 
 in the river, lay the three British frigates — the Somerset, 
 Lively, and Falcon — and the "all's well" of the ships' 
 sentries came clearly to the workers' ears, from time to 
 time, to tell them that as yet they were undiscovered. 
 So they toiled on vigorously through the night, and by 
 dawn had thrown up a long intrenchment with a redoubt 
 on the very spot where the mighty Bunker Hill Monu- 
 ment now raises its granite shaft. 
 
 Their activities were not discovered until daylight re- 
 
 40 
 
AROUND BOSTON 
 
 vealed their breastworks to the watch on the Lively, who 
 instantly gave the alarm. Soon the booming of this 
 ship's guns was waking the people of Boston, who crowded 
 the streets and flocked to points of vantage in the North 
 End, where, torn by conflicting emotions — Wliigs pray- 
 ing for the "rebels," Tories for the "regulars" — they 
 prepared to watch the impending battle from housetops 
 and steeples. 
 
 Meanwhile General Gage had called a council at his 
 headquarters, a house that stood until quite recently in 
 Hull Street, nearly opposite Copp's Hill burying-ground 
 and within a stone's throw of the Old North Church. 
 With his ofiicers he then crossed over to the old grave- 
 yard to watch events and direct them. 
 
 So, to Copp's Hill burying-ground let us follow him. 
 Tliis ancient cemetery, occupying the highest hill in North 
 Boston, has retained its old-time character intact. A 
 great proportion of the graves that we see in it to-day 
 were there at the time of the Revolution. There lie the 
 Hutchinsons, father and grandfather of the last royal 
 governor; there are interred 
 
 The REVEREND DOCTORS 
 INCREASE, COTTON 
 & SAMUEL MATHER 
 
 as the inscription upon their simple tombstone records; 
 there, "buried in a stone grave 10 feet deep," lies that 
 stanch old patriot, Captain Daniel Malcolm, "one of 
 the foremost in opposing the Revenue Acts in America." 
 
 41 
 
REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 
 
 "You may bang the dirt and welcome, they're as safe 
 as Dan'l Malcohn 
 Ten foot beneath the gravestone that you've sphntered 
 with your balls !'* 
 
 And, indeed, his and many another tombstone in the old 
 graveyard still bear traces of the bullets that flew that 
 afternoon. 
 
 At the time of the battle there was a battery of six 
 guns in Copp's Hill burying-ground, placed near the 
 Mather tomb. General Gage took up his position be- 
 side this battery and, through his glasses, could plainly 
 see the Americans and Prescott walking upon the parapet 
 talking to and encouraging his men. 
 
 To-day, of course, the view across the Charles has 
 changed radically since the time of the Revolution. 
 Rreed's Hill, then an open pasture, is now part of a 
 crowded city. Factories, terminals, docks, and houses 
 have obliterated all the ancient landmarks. Yet, from 
 this point of vantage, I think, can still be obtained the 
 best idea of the battle of Runker Hill.f 
 
 The north slope of Copp's Hill pitches steeply down to 
 the river. Directly below, at the ferry where Paul Re- 
 vere had crossed and where Charlestown Rridge now 
 spans the river, lay the Somerset man-of-war, the largest 
 of the Rritish ships. Old Charlestown stood by the 
 waterside just beyond, under the shadow of Rreed's Hill, 
 upon which the monument now stands so conspicuously. 
 
 * "Grandmother's Story of Bunker Hill," by Oliver Wendell Holmes. 
 t See decorative cover lining. 
 
 42 
 
AROUND BOSTON 
 
 Near the present navy-yard the Lively and Falcon lay 
 at anchor. To the foot of the eminence farther off to 
 the right, then called Morton's Hill, the British troops 
 were ferried over, landed, and formed for the attack. 
 
 By this time it was three in the afternoon. The day 
 was warm, the sky cloudless. Deliberately, the grenadiers 
 and light infantry deployed their lines, and then, three 
 deep, in the blistering sunshine, began the toilsome as- 
 cent of Breed's Hill. Silently the patriots waited behind 
 their breastworks, watching them coming. And the word 
 went round: "Wait till you see the whites of their eyes." 
 "Aim at the handsome coats; pick off the commanders ! " 
 
 We all know the rest of the story: how the regulars 
 mounted in grim, serried ranks; how the provincials 
 waited until they were within fifty yards, then poured 
 down upon them one deadly volley after another; how 
 the gallant redcoat ranks faltered, staggered, and broke; 
 how they were rallied by their officers for a second attack 
 and, with General Howe leading, mounted once more over 
 the bodies of their fallen comrades, and how again, before 
 the deadly aim of the patriot-soldiers, their lines broke 
 and they fell back to the shore. 
 
 Meanwhile, hot shot, flung into Charlestown, had set 
 it on fire. General Clinton, who, with General Bur- 
 goyne, had been watching the battle from Copp's Hill, 
 now rushed down to the waterside and, with reinforce- 
 ments, crossed over to aid his comrades. Slowly and 
 painfully the British troops reformed their ranks and 
 bravely faced their redoubtable enemy a tliird time. 
 
 43 
 
REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 
 
 The American ammunition was now almost exhausted; 
 their muskets were unprovided with bayonets. This time 
 the British were able to push home their attack and, at the 
 point of the bayonet, carry the intrenchments by storm. 
 
 Burgoyne remained on Copp's Hill until the end of 
 the battle and, in a letter to Lord Stanley, thus describes 
 what he saw: 
 
 "And now ensued one of the greatest scenes of war that 
 can be conceived. . . . Howe's corps, ascending the hill 
 in the face of intrenchments, and in a very disadvan- 
 tageous ground, was much engaged; and to the left, the 
 enemy pouring in fresh troops by thousands over the 
 land; and in the arm of the sea, our ships and floating 
 batteries cannonading them; straight before us a large 
 and noble town in one blaze: the church steeples, being 
 made of timber, were great pyramids of fire above the 
 rest; behind us, the church steeples and heights of our 
 camp covered with spectators. The enemy all anxious 
 suspense; the roar of cannon, mortars, musketry; the 
 crash of churches, ships upon the stocks, and whole streets 
 falling together in ruin to fill the ear; the storm of the 
 redoubts, with the objects above described, to fill the eye; 
 and the reflection, that, perhaps a defeat was a final loss 
 to the British Empire in America, to fill the mind, — 
 made the whole a picture and complication of horror and 
 importance, beyond anything that came to my lot to 
 be a witness to. I much lament my nephew's absence; 
 it was a sight for a young soldier that the longest service 
 may not furnish again." 
 
 Among some letters by British officers collected by 
 Samuel Adams Drake, I found this one written by 
 
 44 
 
AROUND BOSTON 
 
 Adjutant Waller to his brother in England. It shifts 
 us to a nearer point of view, and gives a picture of the 
 storming of the redoubt, his battalion, the Royal Marines, 
 according to Colonel Carrington's plan of the battle, 
 having occupied the extreme left of the British line. 
 
 "Camp of Charlestown Heights 
 "22d. June, 1775. 
 
 "My Dear Brother,— Amidst the hurry and confusion 
 of a camp hastily pitched in a field of battle, I am sat 
 down to tell you I have escaped unliurt, where many, so 
 many, have fallen. The public papers will inform you 
 of the situation of the ground and the redoubt that we 
 attacked on the heights of Charlestown. I can only say 
 that it was a most daring attempt, and that it was per- 
 formed with as much gallantry and spirit as was ever 
 shown by any troops in any age. 
 
 "Two companies of the first battahon of marines and 
 part of the 47th regiment, were the first that mounted 
 the breastwork; and you will not be displeased when I 
 tell you that I was with those two companies who drove 
 their bayonets into all that opposed them. Nothing could 
 be more shocking than the carnage that followed the storm- 
 ing of this work. We tumbled over the dead to get at 
 the hving. . . . The rebels had 5000 to 7000 men, cov- 
 ered by a redoubt, breastworks, walls, hedges, trees, and 
 the like; and the number of the corps under General 
 Howe (who performed this gallant business) did not 
 amount to fifteen hundred. We gained a complete vic- 
 tory, and intrenched ourselves that night, where we lay 
 under arms, in the front of the field of battle. ... I 
 suppose, upon the whole, we lost, killed and wounded, 
 from eight hundred to one thousand men. 
 
 45 
 
REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 
 
 "We killed a number of the rebels, but the cover they 
 fought under made their loss less considerable than it 
 would otherwise have been. The army is in great 
 spirits, and full of rage and ferocity at the rebellious 
 rascals who both poisoned and chewed the musket-balls, 
 in order to make them the more fatal." 
 
 But the "rebellious rascals" did not disperse, nor was 
 the "victory" so "complete" as Adjutant Waller thought. 
 Instead, the patriots, encouraged by the battle, tightened 
 their lines about Boston, and the city was more closely 
 besieged than ever. 
 
 On the 2d of July, by decision of Congress, General 
 George Washington arrived at Cambridge to assume 
 command of the American army. The simple ceremony 
 attending his investment as commander-in-chief took 
 place next day under the historic elm, now blasted and 
 torn by hghtning, that still stands at the north end of 
 Cambridge Common. Washington made his headquar- 
 ters at Craigie House, which had been prepared for his 
 reception, and which remains one of the landmarks of 
 the college town, though now better known as the Long- 
 fellow House. It is still occupied by the poet's eldest 
 daughter, whose presence lends distinction to the old 
 demesne. I shall not soon forget my visits to it, nor 
 my pleasure and interest in seeing, with her and members 
 of her family, the treasures of that mansion-house, so 
 rarely marked by memories. 
 
 Washington at once proceeded to strengthen his posi- 
 tion. He fortified the heights about Cambridge — Pros- 
 
 46 
 
AROUND BOSTON 
 
 pect, Cobble, and I^loughed Hills— and extended his re- 
 doubts as far as Winter Hill on (he left to the heights of 
 Roxbury on the right. 'Jlien, one night in March, 1776, 
 "with an expedition equal to tliat of the Genii l)elonging 
 
 yicinity of the Washhu/ton Elm, Camhrirlge 
 
 to Aladdin's lamp," to quote the words of a British ofTicer, 
 the Americans threw up two redoubts on Dorchester 
 Heights, a position of such importance that from it and 
 from their battery on Nook's Hill over Boston Neck, 
 they commanded both the city and the bay. 
 
 47 
 
REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 
 
 The British admiral admitted that he could no longer 
 "keep a ship in the harbor," and Howe's position in 
 Boston became untenable. So, on the 17th of March, 
 he embarked his army on a fleet of transports, and set 
 sail for Halifax. Three days later Washington entered 
 the streets of Boston at the head of his army, and was 
 rapturously greeted by the patriotic citizens. 
 
 48 
 
TICONDEROGA AND LAKE CHAMPLAIN 
 
TICONDEROGA AND LAKE CHAMPLAIN 
 
 WHILE these events were taking place in and 
 around Boston, the other colonies were also 
 active. Only three weeks after the skir- 
 mishes at Lexington and Concord, Ethan Allen took 
 Ticonderoga. 
 
 Our next pilgrimage, then, will be to the scene of this 
 exploit — one of the most daring and spectacular in the 
 early annals of the Revolution. Though born in Con- 
 necticut, Ethan Allen migrated to the New Hampshire 
 Grants at a very early age, and settled in Bennington. 
 There, in pre-Revolutionary days, he used to frequent 
 the Green Mountain Tavern (to which I shall have 
 occasion to refer later) and in its tap-room he and Seth 
 Warner cemented their friendship during the controver- 
 sies over the New York border. 
 
 At the outbreak of the Revolution they both longed 
 to express their patriotism in some great deed of heroism, 
 and the story of their hopes and of what they did is best 
 told, I think, in Ethan Allen's own language — his "Nar- 
 rative," * a document that gives us a fine glimpse of this 
 
 * "Ethan Allen's Narrative of the Capture of Ticonderoga and of his 
 Captivity and Treatment by the British." Written by himself (Benning- 
 ton, 1849). In the preface to the fifth edition I find this statement by 
 the senior publisher, Chauncy Goodrich: "It is given in the plain lan- 
 guage of its self-educated author without any alteration. The senior pub- 
 lisher has been intimately acquainted with his widow, who died about ten 
 years since, and has been assured by her that this narrative is printed as 
 he wrote it without alteration; and that it shows more of his true char- 
 acter than all else ever written of him." 
 
 51 
 
REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 
 
 blunt, honest patriot — not the ilhterate, coarse fellow he 
 is sometimes depicted, but a frank, red-blooded fron- 
 tiersman. His narrative is dated Rennington, March 
 25th, 1779, so was written just after he returned from his 
 captivity: 
 
 "Ever since I arrived at the state of manhood, and ac- 
 quainted myself with the general history of mankind, I 
 have felt a sincere passion for liberty. The history of 
 nations, doomed to perpetual slavery, in consequence of 
 yielding up to tyrants their natural-born liberties, I read 
 with a sort of philosophical horror; so that the first sys- 
 tematical and bloody attempt at Lexington, to enslave 
 America, thoroughly electrified my mind, and fully deter- 
 mined me to take part with my country. And, while I 
 was wishing for an opportunity to signalize myself in its 
 behalf, directions were privately sent to me from the 
 then colony (now state) of Connecticut, to raise the 
 Green Mountain Roys, and, if possible, to surprise and 
 take the fortress of Ticonderoga. 
 
 "This enterprise I cheerfully undertook, and after first 
 guarding all the several passes that led thither, to cut 
 off all intelligence between the garrison and the country, 
 made a forced march from Rennington, and arrived at 
 the lake opposite Ticonderoga, on the evening of the 
 ninth day of May, 1775 with two hundred and thirty 
 valiant Green Mountain Roys, and it was with the ut- 
 most difficulty that I procured boats to cross the lake. 
 However, I landed eighty-three men near the garrison, 
 and sent the boats back for the rear guard, commanded 
 by Col. Seth Warner, but the day began to dawn, and I 
 found myself under a necessity to attack the fort, before 
 the rear could cross the lake." 
 
 52 
 
TICONDEROGA 
 
 He then harangued his men, explaining the danger of 
 the enterprise, and, hke Pizarro, asked all who dared to 
 follow him to "poise their firelocks." 
 
 "The men being, at this time, drawn up in three 
 ranks, each poised his firelock. I ordered them to face 
 to the right, and at the head of the center file, marched 
 them immediately to the wicket-gate where I found a 
 sentry posted, who instantly snapped his fusee at me; I 
 ran immediately toward him and he retreated through 
 the covered way into the parade within the garrison, 
 gave a halloo, and ran under a bomb-proof. My party, 
 who followed me into the fort, I formed on the parade 
 in such a manner as to face the two barracks which faced 
 each other. 
 
 "The garrison being asleep, except the sentries, we 
 gave three huzzas which greatly surprised them. One 
 of the sentries made a pass at one of my officers with a 
 charged bayonet, and shghtly wounded him. My first 
 thought was to kill him with my sword; but, in an in- 
 stant, I altered the design and fury of the blow to a slight 
 cut on the side of the head; upon which he dropped his 
 gun, and asked quarter, which I readily granted him, 
 and demanded of him the place where the commanding 
 officer kept; he shewed me a pair of stairs in the front 
 of a barrack, on the west side of the garrison, which led 
 up a second story in said barrack, to which I immediately 
 repaired, and ordered the commander, Capt. De La 
 Place, to come forth immediately, or I would sacrifice the 
 whole garrison; at which the Capt. came instantly to 
 the door with his breeches in his hand; when I ordered 
 him to deliver me the fort; he asked me by what au- 
 thority I demanded it; I answered him 'In the name of 
 the great Jehovah and the Continental Congress.' 
 
 53 
 
REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 
 
 "The authority of the Congress being very little known 
 at that time, he began to speak again; but I interrupted 
 him, and with my drawn sword over his head, again de- 
 manded an immediate surrender of the garrison; which 
 he then complied, and ordered his men to be forthwith 
 paraded without arms, as he had given up the garrison. 
 In the mean time some of my officers had given orders 
 and in consequence thereof, sundry of the barrack doors 
 were beat down and about a third of the garrison im- 
 prisoned, which consisted of the said commander, a Lieut. 
 Feltham, a conductor of artillery, a gunner, two ser- 
 geants, and forty four rank and file; about one hundred 
 pieces of cannon, one thirteen inch mortar and a num- 
 ber of swivels. 
 
 "This surprise was carried into execution in the grey 
 of the morning of the tenth of May, 1775. The sun 
 seemed to rise that morning with a superior lustre; and 
 Ticonderoga and its dependencies smiled on its con- 
 querors, who tossed about the flowing bowl, and wished 
 success to Congress, and the liberty and freedom of 
 America. Happy it was for me, at that time, that the 
 then future pages of the book of fate, which afterward 
 unfolded a miserable scene of two years and eight months 
 imprisonment, were hid from my view." 
 
 Now that we have his story, let us visit the place. 
 The ruins of old Fort Ticonderoga, the key to all the 
 waterways at the south end of Lake Champlain, are still 
 among the most impressive in our country. 
 
 I have not visited them in some years — in fact, not 
 since the time when I made the drawings that accompany 
 this chapter. I have never wanted to go again, for the 
 memory of that visit has been tinged with a flavor of 
 
 54 
 
TICONDEROGA 
 
 adventure and romance that, I feared, might be dispelled 
 if I visited the locahty again under changed conditions. 
 At that time I had noticed the advertisement of a sum- 
 mer hotel near the old fort — an account that read most 
 attractively — as these advertisements always do. 
 
 The Ruins of I'orl I 
 
 So, to stay at this hotel, we left the train at the sta- 
 tion of Fort Ti, expecting to take the steamer across the 
 lake. But, upon inquiry, the captain said: "That pier's 
 rotten; I wouldn't risk my boat there for anything. 
 And, besides, there's a sea running." "But how are we 
 going to get across .-^ " I asked. "Oh, I guess you can 
 get the station agent to row you over; he's got a boat." 
 
 And with that he rang his engine-bell, and the steamer 
 
 55 
 
REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 
 
 floated slowly north, settling down close upon the water, 
 hke a big white duck. The train we had just left was 
 flying toward the tail of the lake, leaving a billowy cloud 
 of smoke behind it. The little station was deserted. 
 Presently the agent appeared with our luggage. Yes, 
 he'd take us "over the lake in about two hours." He'd 
 his "dinner to eat and his job to finish." 
 
 The two long hours slipped by in the shadow of Mount 
 Defiance. Then he beckoned to us, and we descended 
 to a little cove where a boat lay between the rocks. Our 
 trunk, bags, and sketching outfit were loaded in the bow 
 and we in the stern, and we pushed ofi*. He rowed a 
 strong stroke, and, despite a head wind and the white- 
 
 
 
 f^-''' r/^ 
 
 Ruiim of the Officers Quarters at Ticonderoga 
 56 
 
 //"'I I 
 
TICONDEROGA 
 
 caps, we soon could discern the ruins of the old fort 
 and its bastions firmly planted on the rocks, with the 
 walls of its barracks silhouetted against the sky. 
 
 Our boatman had been most incommunicative. Fi- 
 nally he headed for the shore and, with a vigorous stroke 
 or two, drove the nose of the boat on a pebbly beach 
 and dumped out our luggage. In a moment, still quite 
 silent, he was off again, gliding over the lake, leaving us 
 stranded like two pilgrims on a desert shore. Not a 
 house nor habitation was in sight. 
 
 We took our smaller belongings and walked up a path 
 some three hundred yards or more, when, set in a fine 
 grove of locust-trees, we made out a large white house — 
 a great colonial mansion with tall columns to its central 
 portico, and long wings at each side leading to end- 
 pavilions. This was the summer hotel of wliich I had 
 read. On entering, however, we found only a shiftless 
 fellow in his shirt-sleeves in the vast corridor. "Yes, 
 tills is the hotel; do you want a roomP" And he led 
 us off to one of the end-pavilions and assigned us a large 
 chamber. When we went in to dinner we found our- 
 selves the only guests ! The shiftless one was the pro- 
 prietor, and his wife the cook. 
 
 Well, we stuck it out eight days. We had adventures, 
 too. One night a party of drunken yachtsmen landed 
 and fired pistols right and left to give vent to their en- 
 thusiasm. There was not a lock or key to any of our 
 doors, which gave directly on verandas, and we did not 
 know at what moment these roisterers might make irrup- 
 
 57 
 
REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 
 
 tion into our room. So I made barricades of bureaus 
 and tables as the unsteady steps echoed up and down the 
 empty corridors, at times approaching, then disappear- 
 ing in dim distances, as with pistol-shots and loud huzzas 
 they "tossed about the flowing bowl." 
 
 The climax to our visit was reached upon the eighth 
 day, when our proprietor announced, with some pertur- 
 bation, that there would be no dinner as his wife had 
 run away ! So he drove us to the train, and we proceeded 
 to Port Henry and Crown Point. I have never heard 
 what became of the hotel. 
 
 Luckily, however, my drawings were completed. 
 Luckily, also, we had lingered long enough, undisturbed, 
 among the ruins to absorb their every detail. We had 
 traced the underground passage (as you still may do) 
 through which Ethan Allen led his men from the sally- 
 port. We had found its orifice upon the parade-ground 
 between the barracks. We had explored these "two 
 barracks which faced each other," as Allen describes, 
 and beyond had visited the old French lines of Fort 
 Carillon. 
 
 From the bastions, high above the river, we had en- 
 joyed wide prospects. To the north stretched Lake 
 Champlain, so narrow that we saw both banks, so long 
 that it reached the far horizon. From the west the water- 
 way came in from Lake George; toward the south and 
 east, Mount Defiance and Mount Independence reared 
 their wooded slopes, with the village of Ticonderoga lying 
 at their feet, while, beyond, the hills of Vermont, dotted 
 
 58 
 
T I C N D E R O G A 
 
 with farms, stretched off to the hne of the distant Green 
 Mountains. 
 
 As the sun dropped and the shadows lengthened, how 
 the past came back — especially in the moonhght, when 
 a spirit of romance, born of the quiet of the night, hov- 
 ered over the place, and the ghosts of its dead heroes 
 seemed to walk again among the trees as the wind softly 
 stirred their rustling leaves — the men of the French and 
 Indian Wars — brave Montcalm, its commandant, who 
 died so gloriously before Quebec; General Abercrombie 
 and his gallant young lieutenant, the Viscount Howe; 
 Rogers and Stark of the Rangers ; and Lord Jeffrey Am- 
 hurst, who took the proud fortress from the French — 
 then the men of '75: Ethan Allen, Seth Warner, Bene- 
 dict Arnold, St. Clair, and Burgoyne ! So its ruined 
 ramparts seemed to speak of gallant deeds. ... 
 
 After Ethan Allen had seized the fortress, he sent 
 Seth Warner to the north to capture Crown Point. This 
 was done without trouble or bloodshed. Benedict Ar- 
 nold, who had accompanied the enterprise, hot-headed 
 and ambitious, now wished to make the conquest of 
 Lake Champlain complete. So, with fifty men, he seized 
 a schooner, mounted some guns upon it, and captured 
 St. John's at the head of the lake, thus driving the last 
 British soldier from its shores. 
 
 Lake Champlain now remained undisputably in Ameri- 
 can hands for nearly two years. A new star fort was 
 built on the summit of Mount Independence, opposite 
 Ticonderoga, and both places were well garrisoned. 
 
 59 
 
REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 
 
 In March, 1777, Sir Guy Carletoii, the niihtary gov- 
 ernor of Canada, received a message from London re- 
 questing him to detach all the troops that he could spare, 
 put them in charge of Lieutenant-General John Bur- 
 
 Ruins of Old Fort Frederick, Crown Point 
 
 goyne, and send them south "with all expedition" to 
 Albany to join Sir Wilham Howe's forces, and "aid him 
 in putting down the rebellion." 
 
 Thus Burgoyne's campaign was launched — a campaign 
 we shall now follow to its final issue on the plains of 
 Saratoga. 
 
 It was to proceed in two divisions. A smaller one, 
 under Lieutenant-Colonel St. Leger was to go by way of 
 
 60 
 
TICONDEROGA 
 
 the Mohawk Valley (and we shall follow its movements 
 later). The main column, with General Burgoyne him- 
 self in command, was to move south by way of Lake 
 Champlain. On the 12th of June Sir Guy Carleton re- 
 viewed this proud army of invasion before he sent it forth 
 upon its career. The picture that it made as it sailed 
 down the placid waters of Lake Champlain is thus viv- 
 idly described* by Thomas Anburey, a British officer who 
 accompanied the expedition: 
 
 "I cannot forbear picturing to your imagination one 
 of the most pleasing spectacles I ever beheld. When 
 we were in the widest part of the lake, whose beauty and 
 extent I have already described, it was remarkably fine 
 and clear — not a breeze was stirring — when the whole 
 army appeared at one view in such perfect regularity as 
 to form the most complete and splendid regatta you can 
 possibly conceive. . . . 
 
 "In the front the Indians went with their birch canoes, 
 containing twenty or thirty in each; then the advanced 
 corps in regular line with the gun-boats; then followed 
 the Royal George and Inflexible, towing large booms 
 which are to be thrown across two points of land, with 
 the other brigs and sloops following; after them the 
 first brigade in a regular fine, then the Generals Bur- 
 goyne, Phillips and Riedesel in their pinnaces; next to 
 them were the second brigade, followed by the German 
 brigades; and the rear was brought up with the sutlers 
 and followers of the army. LTpon the appearance of so 
 formidable a fleet you may imagine they were not a 
 
 * "Travels through the Interior Parts of America in a series of Letters." 
 By an Officer. 
 
 61 
 
REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 
 
 little dismayed at Ticonderoga, for they were apprised of 
 our advance, as we every day could see their watch-boats." 
 
 This splendid army consisted of more than seven 
 thousand troops, commanded by efficient officers and 
 provided with exceptional artillery. About half of its 
 soldiers were German mercenaries. Its weak point, as 
 we shall see, lay in its lack of pioneers, horses, and pro- 
 visions for its transport. 
 
 A prehminary camp was established on the Boquet 
 River above Crown Point, and here in answer to a proc- 
 lamation about four hundred Indians joined the expedi- 
 tion. Thence an advance was made on Crown Point, 
 which surrendered without opposition. The army then 
 divided into two columns. One, the British troops 
 under Brigadier-General Eraser, marched down the west 
 shore of the lake; the other, the German troops under 
 General Riedesel, followed the east shore; while Bur- 
 goyne himself sailed with the fleet. 
 
 The British column arrived before Ticonderoga on the 
 1st of July, and on the following day the Americans 
 abandoned the old French works, burned their defenses, 
 and retired into the main fortress. Its garrison, as well 
 as that upon the star fort on Mount Independence op- 
 posite, was commanded by General Arthur St. Clair, 
 who had under his orders a total of about twenty-five 
 hundred continentals, and nine hundred poorly equipped 
 militia. He decided that he could hold the fort, but only 
 for a short time, as supplies, clothing, and military stores 
 were all deficient. 
 
 62 
 
TICONDEROGA 
 
 
 General Schuyler, who commanded the Northern De 
 partment, and had just inspected the defenses at Ticon 
 deroga, also foresaw its probable downfall, for he wrote 
 " The insufficiency of the 
 garrison at Ticonderoga, 
 the improper state of the 
 fortifications, and the 
 want of disciphne in the 
 troops, give me great 
 cause to apprehend that 
 we shall lose that for- 
 tress." 
 
 His fears proved only 
 too well-founded. Baron 
 Riedesel's troops drew 
 close about the foot of 
 Mount Independence 
 from the north and east, 
 while the British, cross- 
 ing to Sugar Loaf Hill, 
 which had always been 
 deemed inaccessible for 
 artillery, in the dead of 
 night, succeeded in plac- 
 ing a battery upon its 
 summit. This new posi- 
 tion they called Fort Defiance, and from it they could 
 command both Ticonderoga and Mount Independence 
 from an elevation several hundred feet liigher than either. 
 
 63 
 
 JLq fit g f ::HnEB^t>TON 
 
 ;K*ASTlETON 
 
 oco '••RBTIANB 
 
 ?-3KENCSBOaol 
 
 WFt AN N #'^A LUN G F R B 
 
 .•.-MANcnsTE?, 
 
 SHAFTEJBVBY 
 
 rBENNINCTaN 
 
 i I 
 
 Ma'p Ilhistrating Burgoynes 
 Campaign 
 
REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 
 
 With their glasses, they could plainly watch the move- 
 ments of every soldier in both forts. 
 
 Under so startling a menace, a council of American 
 officers decided it was best to evacuate while yet the south 
 slope of Mount Independence was open for retreat. 
 
 Lake Champlain, roughly speaking, is shaped like a 
 thin fish swimming north, with two long ends to its 
 tail. Lake George* is one of these ends; the other is a 
 narrow waterway, South River, that extends down as 
 far as Whitehall or Skenesborough, as it then was called. 
 A temporary bridge of floats, protected by a boom of 
 heavy timbers, clinched with bolts, had been built by 
 the Americans to impede navigation into this south arm 
 of the lake and to connect Fort Ticonderoga with Mount 
 Independence. 
 
 When the evacuation was decided upon, it was arranged 
 that the Ticonderoga garrison would cross tliis bridge, 
 and joining that of Fort Independence march by land to 
 Skenesborough via Castleton. The baggage, ammuni- 
 tion, and stores, with the invalids, under the escort of a 
 battalion of troops under Colonel Long, was to go in 
 batteaux to the same destination by the narrow south 
 end of the lake. The retreat was to be effected during 
 the night of the 5th of July. 
 
 And now we have our second picture of Ticonderoga. 
 The guns of the fort, to quiet suspicions, were keeping 
 up a desultory fire upon the battery on Mount Defiance. 
 
 * The old Indian name for Lake George was "Horican," or "Tail of the 
 Lake." 
 
 64 
 
TICOxNDEROGA 
 
 Meanwhile, though a young moon was shining, the 
 American garrison, at three in the morning, in stealthy 
 silence, crossed the bridge unseen, and arrived at the 
 foot of Mount Independence. The troops from the fort 
 above came down 
 to join them, but 
 just at this critical 
 moment some one, 
 contrary to orders, 
 set fire to the house 
 of General de Fer- 
 moy, commander of 
 Fort Independence, 
 and the flames, leap- 
 ing aloft, revealed 
 the American col- 
 umns to the British 
 sentries. 
 
 The boats got off 
 and the garrison 
 marched away, but 
 
 all knew that their ^'^V of Ticonderoga 
 
 movements had been discovered. The British drums 
 beat to arms. Quick orders rang in the night. When 
 day broke all was astir, and a pursuit rapidly organized. 
 General Fraser, with an advance corps of light infantry, 
 started after the fleeing garrison. General Riedesel fol- 
 lowing with his Germans. 
 
 Meanwhile a passage had been cut through the boom 
 
 65 
 
REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 
 
 and bridge, and the Rritish frigates moved with all 
 speed down the South River, in pursuit of the Ameri- 
 can shipping. It was a critical moment, and every one 
 knew it. 
 
 66 
 
TO THE PLAINS OF SARATOGA 
 
TO THE PLAINS OF SARATOGA 
 I 
 
 TICONDEROGA TO FORT EDWARD 
 
 FIRST we shall follow Burgoyne and his floating 
 column to Skenesborough. So swiftly did he 
 move, and so hotly did he pm:'sue Colonel Long 
 and the American flotilla, that he reached the south end 
 of the lake only two hours behind the Americans. These 
 had had no time to organize, and, besides, what could they 
 do against such a formidable enemy ? So, abandoning 
 all hope of resistance, they set fire to the mills, shipping, 
 dwellings, and to the stores that they had saved at such 
 pains, and all went up together in one vast brasier, 
 whose flames, mounting aloft, hcked up the mountain- 
 side, devouring trees, shrubs, and houses, in one great 
 conflagration. The little American column, meanwhile, 
 hopelessly outnumbered, hastened onward to Fort Ann, 
 eleven miles to the south. 
 
 Burgoyne remained at Skenesborough for some time, 
 waiting for General Fraser and organizing his advance. 
 He stayed with Major Skene, a noted loyalist, from 
 whom the town took its name, and who was able to give 
 him much information about the country and the people, 
 some of it, as events proved, of value, some of it not. 
 Skenesborough is now called Whitehall. It is situated 
 
 69 
 
REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 
 
 at the point where the south end of Lake Champlain is 
 tapped by the Champlain Canal, that connects it with 
 the Hudson River, thus affording an unbroken water- 
 way from New York to Canada. The situation of the 
 town is highly picturesque. A hill with a rounded top 
 but very steep sides, well-wooded, rises abruptly above 
 it, holding upon its declivities some of the buildings. A 
 big, black cannon planted among them on a ledge, points 
 its nose up the lake to remind you of the one-time im- 
 portance of this strategic point. 
 
 The main portion of the town clusters about the base 
 of this hill, its shapely church spires telling handsomely 
 against the green slopes behind them. The principal 
 street, parked in places, borders the canal, whose locks 
 are alive with tugs and barges. Reyond, long lines of 
 freight-cars fill the railway yards and emphasize the con- 
 sequence of this long waterway — the whole aspect of the 
 place being strongly reminiscent of some busy canal town 
 in Flanders: Dinan or Namur, for example. 
 
 Rurgoyne's route to the Hudson is almost identical 
 with that now followed by the Champlain Canal. Thus 
 far all had gone well with him, and his success had equalled 
 his most sanguine hopes. The first act of his drama — 
 "the first period of this campaign," as he himself calls 
 it — had ended brilHantly here at Skenesborough. In the 
 second act his troubles were to begin — troubles that com- 
 menced as soon as he left Major Skene's house. 
 
 A fine state highway takes one to-day along the Cham- 
 plain Canal, landing you finally, twenty-five miles away, 
 
 70 
 
TO THE PLAINS OF SARATOGA 
 
 at Fort Edward. From it you obtain an excellent idea 
 of the topography of the region through which Burgoyne 
 now began this advance. At first the valley is quite 
 narrow, hemmed in by a succession of wooded hills; 
 then it widens enough to reveal the lofty hills that sur- 
 round Lake George upon the one hand, and the distant 
 Green Mountains on the other. 
 
 A mile or two north of Fort Ann, the canal, railroad, and 
 highway together penetrate a narrow defile, rocky and 
 clothed only with stunted cedars. Here Colonel Long 
 with his detachment, reinforced by troops sent forward 
 by General Schuyler, made his first stand against the 
 pursuing British. The Americans were almost successful 
 in their defense, for at first they flanked their enemy, got 
 in his rear, and "made a very vigorous attack, and they 
 certainly would have forced us," states Major Forbes of 
 of the Ninth, "had it not been for some Indians that 
 arrived and gave the Indian whoop." This turned the 
 tide, the Americans gave way, fell back to and burned 
 Fort Ann, that was untenable before so strong an ad- 
 versary, and retreated to Fort Edward, where they joined 
 forces with General Schuyler's command. 
 
 Fort Ann of to-day is a pleasant village, set on a hill- 
 ock with nothing in particular, except its name, to dis- 
 tinguish it from other villages in its vicinity. Beyond it, 
 the valley widens out even more, until it becomes quite 
 level, and rapidly takes on the characteristics of the 
 broad Hudson valley, peaceful, pastoral, rather unculti- 
 vated, with distant mountains lying along far horizons. 
 
 71 
 
REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 
 
 In the days of the Revolution it was wooded, and 
 Schuyler had used every artifice to impede his enemy's 
 advance. Thomas Anburey writes: 
 
 "The country between our late encampment at Skenes- 
 borough and this place, was a continuation of woods and 
 creeks, interspersed with deep morasses; and to add to 
 these impediments, the enemy had very industriously 
 augmented them, by felling immense trees, and various 
 other modes, so that it was with the utmost pains and 
 fatigue that we could work our way through them. Ex- 
 clusive of these, the watery grounds and marshes were 
 so numerous, that we were under the necessity of con- 
 structing no less than forty bridges to pass them, and 
 over one morass there was a bridge of near two miles in 
 length." 
 
 The Americans had also rounded up all the live stock 
 of the region so that Rurgoyne's foraging parties brought 
 him no supplies. This was striking the Rritish army in 
 its weakest spot, for, as I have said, it was deficient in 
 stores, and the farther it went from its bases, the more 
 acute this problem became. 
 
 The road from Fort Ann to Fort Edward takes us 
 through the large modern town of Hudson Falls, above 
 which is Glenn's Falls, where the Hudson, though now 
 harnessed by machinery and almost screened by a new 
 viaduct, tumbles in a series of broad cascades a distance 
 of sixty feet. Reside these rushing waters, "in one place 
 white as snow, in another green as grass," as Hawk-eye 
 himself describes them, dwelt Uncas, last of the Mohicans, 
 
 72 
 
TO THE PLAINS OF SARATOGA 
 
 for it was here, by the portages between the Hudson 
 and the lakes, that Fenimore Cooper lays liis famous 
 story. 
 
 Having forced its way from the west through a series 
 of rocky defiles, and having here made its impetuous 
 descent, the Hudson turns abruptly to the south, and 
 spreads out serene and placid as it takes its lazy way 
 to the sea. 
 
 Just below this sharp bend lay Fort Edward, that 
 played so prominent a part in the annals of the French 
 and Indian Wars. Now a modern town of some conse- 
 quence covers its site. The star-shaped fort used to 
 stand upon the east bank of the Hudson, high above the 
 river, its ramparts protected by it as well as by Fort 
 Edward Creek, wliich here flows in. 
 
 After liis long struggle across the intervening country. 
 Burgoyne came down to Fort Edward by way of Sandy 
 Hill, at which place occurred the unfortunate murder of 
 Jane M'Crea, that did so much to alienate loyalists and 
 patriots alike from the British cause — an event that fits 
 well into the setting of this country so linked with Indian 
 myths and murders. The exact facts connected with 
 Jane M'Crea's death have always been more or less 
 shrouded in mystery, so that, around her tragic story, 
 many fictions have been woven and many a harrowing 
 tale been told. 
 
 Anburey, in a letter, dated "Camp at Fort Edward," 
 and written a few days after the tragedy, thus recounts 
 the facts as he heard them: 
 
 73 
 
REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 
 
 "To those who have been averse to our employing 
 Indians, a melancholy instance was lately afforded that 
 will sharpen their arguments against the maxim, and, as 
 the matter will be greatly exaggerated, when the ac- 
 counts of it arrive in England, I shall relate to you the 
 circumstance, as it really happened. . . . 
 
 "A young lady, upon the approach of our army, was 
 determined to leave her father's house and join it, as a 
 young man, to whom she was on the point of being mar- 
 ried, was an officer in the provincial troops. Some In- 
 dians, who were out upon a scout, by chance met her in 
 the woods; they at first treated her with every mark of 
 civility they are capable of and were conducting her into 
 camp, when, within a mile of it, a dispute arose between 
 the two Indians, whose prisoner she was, and words 
 growing very high, one of them, who was fearful of losing 
 the reward for bringing her safe into camp, most in- 
 humanly struck his tomahawk into her skull, and she 
 instantly expired. 
 
 "The situation of the General whose humanity was 
 much shocked at such an instance of barbarity, was very 
 distressing and critical; for however inclined he might 
 be to punish the offender, still it was hazarding the re- 
 venge of the Indians, whose friendship he had to court 
 rather than seek their enmity. . . . The General shewed 
 great resentment to the Indians upon this occasion and 
 laid restraints upon their dispositions to commit other 
 enormities." 
 
 Indeed, this incident pained Burgoyne exceedingly, 
 and occasioned him no end of trouble. When reproached 
 with it by General Gates, he sent this fine reply: " I could 
 not be conscious of the foul deeds you impute to me for 
 
 74 
 
TO THE PLAINS OF SARATOGA 
 
 the whole continent of America; though the wealth of 
 worlds were in its bowels and a paradise upon its surface." 
 
 In the latter part of July, he moved down from Sandy 
 Hill to Fort Edward, where his soldiers, for the first time, 
 beheld the Hudson, so long the goal of their desires. 
 They were greatly heartened by this sight for their 
 troubles now seemed nearing their end. 
 
 Meanwhile General Schuyler, unable to face Bur- 
 goyne with his scant army, had retired down the river 
 and taken up his position near Stillwater, above the mouth 
 of the Mohawk River, and not far from busy, present- 
 day Mechanicsville. Both generals now busied them- 
 selves with preparations for the conflict which seemed 
 inevitable. And while they remain thus in close prox- 
 imity, let us return to see what became of the garrison of 
 Ticonderoga that started south through the mountains 
 of Vermont. 
 
 75 
 
II 
 
 THE GREEN MOUNTAINS 
 
 THIS quest wiU take us through the Green Moun- 
 tain region — as dehghtful a motor trip as one 
 could desire — the stretch from Rutland to 
 Bennington, in particular, being a long succession of 
 beautiful landscapes, framed with mountains whose con- 
 tours reminded us, as our French chauffeur expressed 
 it, of his own "native Pyrenees." Like the verdant 
 Pyrenean slopes, they are wooded to their summits — 
 whence their name. At their feet, knolls and hillocks 
 are clothed with stately oaks, elms, and maples, to which 
 now and then groves and clumps of hemlocks add a 
 sombre note. But in the valleys the fields are lush 
 and green, and aglow, especially in June, with the bright- 
 est wild flowers. 
 
 It was to these mountains of Vermont, as I have 
 stated, that the Ticonderoga garrison escaped on its road 
 to Castleton. But they were hotly pursued by Fraser's 
 corps, while Riedesel, with his Hessians, followed close 
 behind. The American main column, under St. Clair, 
 pushed on rapidly — threading the narrow "intervales"' 
 of the Green Mountains, whose mazes they knew so well, 
 and attained Castleton in safety. 
 
 76 
 
TO THE PLAINS OF SARATOGA 
 
 The rear-guard, however, under gallant Seth Warner, 
 remained beliind at Hubbardton. Here, early on a hot, 
 summer morning, they were overtaken by Fraser's troops 
 and a fierce battle ensued. The Americans were so fa- 
 vorably posted, and pom-ed such a well-directed fire into 
 the British ranks that they would have carried the day 
 had not Riedesel arrived at the opportune moment and, 
 with flags flying and fifes playing, thrown his fresh troops 
 into the conflict. The tide quickly turned, and the 
 American defeat was complete. Their broken regiments 
 fled in every direction — some over the mountains to 
 Rutland; others to join their comrades at Castleton. 
 When these latter reached St. Clair and told of their 
 disaster, he collected every fugitive he could find and 
 hastened forward to General Schuyler on the Hudson, 
 joining him about five days later. 
 
 Castleton to-day has an air of real distinction. It is 
 set in a valley hemmed in by mountains of picturesque 
 and fantastic contour. Many of its houses are very 
 old. Porticos with tall, white columns alternate with 
 simple clapboarded fronts to form an interesting main 
 street that is shaded by noble ehns. Just as you leave 
 it to proceed to Rutland, a tablet marks the site of Fort 
 Warren, the scene of a conflict. 
 
 Through a gateway formed by Mount Handy on the 
 north and Mount Herrick on the south we now entered 
 the valley of the Otter and Rutland lay before us, its 
 tall church spires rising finely above the general mass 
 of its buildings. We crossed a long bridge that spans 
 
 77 
 
REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 
 
 the river and important railway yards, descended its 
 main street — a busy thoroughfare — and drew up before 
 the hotel. 
 
 Rutland was always a favorite recruiting place for the 
 Green Mountain Boys, as well as their haven of refuge 
 after their forays. This fact is commemorated by a 
 bronze statue by Porter that has recently been erected by 
 the Daughters of the Revolution, up under the lofty trees 
 that shade a handsome avenue in the residential district 
 of the city. A powerful, manly fellow, clad in shirt and 
 homespuns, stands upon a great pile of boulders that 
 strongly suggests a mountain-top. His head is turned, 
 and the action brings into play the big muscles of the neck 
 and chest; his attitude is alert and vigilant; his pose 
 striking and instinct with life; and it is indeed good to 
 see, in so remote a locality, such a real contribution to 
 the art that commemorates the Revolution. The simple 
 inscription, too, is perfect: "To the Green Mountain 
 Boys." 
 
 From Rutland southward the road follows the Otter 
 River, threading a beautiful valley, hemmed in between 
 the Taconic Ridge on the one side and the main range 
 of the Green Mountains on the other. The day we 
 motored down it was showery, and gray clouds hung 
 thick at times about the mountains, hiding one peak 
 and revealing another; screening one range entirely and 
 crawling over another in long, white filaments, that hung 
 like ghosts among the trees, and by their air of mystery 
 enhanced the sense of height. 
 
 78 
 
TO THE PLAINS OF SARATOGA 
 
 At Walliiigford I noted a granite boulder by the church 
 engraved with these words: "In memory of the Revolu- 
 tionary soldiers who went from Walhngford." Reyond 
 we passed the Nichols Farm that dates from 1778. Now 
 and then we came upon important marble quarries, and 
 frequently saw the sign "Maple and nut candy," that 
 hinted at another industry of the countryside. 
 
 Then we entered the main street of Manchester-in-the- 
 Mountains, that alluring resort situated at the foot of 
 Mount Equinox. Sidewalks of marble border the broad 
 avenue, and towering elms of great age shade it. The 
 white colonnades of the Equinox House— reminiscent of 
 Jefferson's dream at the University of Virginia — invited 
 us to hnger, as well as the mid-Victorian atmosphere of 
 its spacious rooms, with their brocaded hangings and old- 
 fashioned rosewood furniture. "Here in summer," in 
 naive fashion says good Colonel Jack Graham, who 
 wrote of Vermont in 1797, "the kind breezes, which 
 whisper among the trees, and press between the moun- 
 tains, refresh the weary traveller and render this place, 
 if I may venture to use such an expression, the habita- 
 tion of the Zephyrs." 
 
 Rut despite these allurements, so real and so substan- 
 tial, we remained firm to our purpose and pushed on to 
 Rennington, our objective for the night. 
 
 We soon reached Shaftesbury, beyond which we climbed 
 quite a steep grade. Then from a summit we beheld, for 
 the first time, the valley of Rennington lying spread be- 
 neath us— a rarely beautiful landscape, built upon a 
 
 79 
 
REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 
 
 great scale and worthy the brush of Inness or of Con- 
 stable. Lofty, purplish mountains, wreathed in clouds, 
 enclosed a broad stretch of country whose undulations 
 were clothed with stately trees. In the centre, the focal 
 point of the picture, placed liigh upon an eminence, the 
 tall shaft of the Bennington Monument shot upward, 
 rising handsomely against the vast blue dome of Mount 
 Anthony. 
 
 We passed by an outlying village or two, and then, 
 at the very door of the city, as it were, were treated to a 
 novel sight— a deer (it was nearing sunset) leaping the 
 fences, one after another, and even the railway tracks, 
 
 as he made for the depths of the 
 woods beyond. Then we ob- 
 tained a near view of the monu- 
 ment, and of Mount Anthony, 
 finely silhouetted against the 
 western sky, where the clouds 
 were now breaking, arid shafts 
 of light shot forth, giving promise 
 for the morrow. 
 
 We drew up before the home- 
 like W alloomsac Inn, on the hill, 
 not far from the monument, 
 and a few minutes later were 
 dining in a charming home near 
 by and talking of Bemiington, 
 its history and its attractions. 
 The town certainly possesses 
 80 
 
 <l^ i 
 
 
 Battle Monument, Benninijton 
 
TO THE PLAINS OF SARATOGA 
 
 that evanescent something that we call "atmosphere." 
 Its modern section, to be sure, at the foot of the hill, 
 with the shops and newer dwelhngs, is not particularly 
 attractive; but the old quarter, up above, is still to a 
 remarkable degree redolent of other days. Most of its 
 houses are a century old, and many are, architecturally, 
 of great inter- 
 est, with their 
 pilastered cor- 
 ners, delicate 
 dentillated cor- 
 nices, fanlights, 
 and well-spaced 
 window open- 
 ings. 
 
 Directly op- 
 posite the inn 
 stands a hand- 
 some church, 
 and up the shaded avenue the soaring monument ap- 
 pears. There is scarcely a house on Monument Avenue 
 that has not weathered its hundredth winter. Half-way 
 up it a bronze catamount marks the site of the Green 
 Mountain Tavern, to which I have alluded in a pre- 
 ceding chapter as the place in which Ethan Allen and 
 Seth Warner planned their attack upon Ticonderoga. 
 Crouched upon its sign-board, a stuffed catamount used 
 to snarl toward New York State, with which the New 
 Hampshire Grants were then in controversy concerning 
 
 81 
 
 The Catamount Tavern, now 
 completely destroyed 
 
REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 
 
 the boundary. From this sign the place became known 
 as the Catamount Tavern. To it, after his thrilHng ad- 
 ventures and liis visit to Washington at Valley Forge, 
 Ethan Allen returned, arriving, as he further recounts 
 in Ills "Narrative," upon 
 
 "the evening of the last day of May to their [the Green 
 Mountain Boys'j surprise, for I was thought to be dead, 
 and now my joy and theirs was complete. Three cannon 
 were fired that evening and next morning, Colonel Mer- 
 rick gave orders, and fourteen more were discharged, 
 welcoming me to Bennington, my usual place of abode; 
 thirteen for the United States and one for young Vermont. 
 "After this ceremony was ended, we moved the flow- 
 ing bowl, and rural fehcity, sweetened with friendship, 
 glowed in each countenance, and with loyal healths to 
 the rising States of America, concluded that evening 
 and with the same loyal spirit, I now conclude my nar- 
 rative." 
 
 His friend, Seth Warner (done in granite, I am sorry 
 to say), stands upon a pedestal at the head of the avenue, 
 directly in front of the gigantic monument that commem- 
 orates the Battle of Bennington, a mighty shaft, not, 
 strictly speaking, a work of art, but certainly most impres- 
 sive, dominating an extended landscape of great beauty. 
 
 Upon the ground where it stands there was a store- 
 house in the days of the Revolution. When Burgoyne 
 reached Fort Edward liis need of supplies and horses 
 became very acute. On August 6, he records: "At ten 
 o'clock this morning, not quite enough provisions for 
 the consumption of two days." Major Skene, who ac- 
 
 82 
 
TO THE PLAINS OF SARATOGA 
 
 companied him, knew of this storehouse at Bennington, 
 and that in it were collected great quantities of military 
 supplies. He also persuaded Burgoyne that there were 
 many Tories in the district who were only too anxious 
 to join the British forces if he would but send an expedi- 
 tion in their direction. 
 
 This Burgoyne now resolved to do. He selected 
 Colonel Baume to carry out his purpose, and sent him 
 with about five hundred men, mostly Hessians, to collect 
 horses to mount the dragoons and to seize the stores at 
 Bennington. 
 
 Meanwhile the Green Mountain Boys had been gath- 
 ering to watch liis movements, and when this expedition 
 started out they hastily organized. John Stark, who 
 held no regular commission in the American army at that 
 time, was persuaded to lead them, and he sent word to 
 Seth Warner, at Manchester, asking him to co-operate 
 as speedily as possible. The improvised army quickly 
 collected at Bennington and marched forthwith to meet 
 Baume's column. 
 
 The Hessians had advanced to within a few miles of 
 Bennington, but when they heard that important forces 
 were coming out to meet them they intrenched them- 
 selves upon a steep hill situated in a bend of the Wal- 
 loomsac River. Riedesel's dragoons and the Rangers 
 were posted upon the top of this hill, while Baume's other 
 troops took up positions down by a ford, with the Ca- 
 nadians and Tories thrown out across the stream as out- 
 posts on the Bennington Road. 
 
 83 
 
REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 
 
 Stark led his men to a spot a little farther up the river, 
 where a stone now marks his camp — a stone graven with 
 his well-known words: "There are the red-coats; and 
 they are ours, or this night Molly Stark sleeps a widow." 
 From this place of encampment, on the morning of the 
 16th of August, he led forth his men. He sent Colonel 
 Hubbard and Colonel Stickney against the troops sta- 
 tioned at the ford ; Colonel Herrick marched his regiment 
 around to the back of the hill; Colonel Nichols was sta- 
 tioned to the east, while Stark reserved for himself the 
 main assault up the steep declivity. All the attacks 
 were delivered with precision and exceeding vigor. The 
 British outposts were forced in and driven up the hill 
 until the various American regiments, uniting from all 
 sides at once, stormed the breastworks on the top with 
 conspicuous gallantry. Though Baume's picked troops 
 were stationed here, they were soon overcome and Baume 
 himself mortally wounded. 
 
 Stark, in his report to the Council of New Hampshire, 
 thus sums up the further progress of the battle: 
 
 "Our people behaved with the greatest spirit and 
 bravery imaginable. Had they been Alexanders or 
 Charleses of Sweden they could not have behaved better. 
 
 "The action lasted two hom"s; at the expiration of 
 which time we forced their breastworks at the muzzle of 
 their guns; took two pieces of brass cannon, with a num- 
 ber of prisoners; but before I could get them into proper 
 form again, I received intelligence that there was a large 
 reenforcement within two miles of us, on the march, 
 which occasioned us to renew our attack; but, luckily 
 
 84 
 
TO THE PLAINS OF SARATOGA 
 
 for us, Colonel Warner's regiment came up, which put a 
 stop to their career. We soon ralhed, and in a few min- 
 utes, the action became very warm and desperate, which 
 lasted until night. We used their cannon against them, 
 which proved of great service to us. 
 
 "At sunset, we obliged them to retreat a second time; 
 we pursued them till dark, when I was obliged to halt 
 for fear of killing our men." 
 
 Congress, having passed over Stark before, now com- 
 missioned him a full brigadier-general, and the State of 
 Massachusetts voted him "a complete suit of clothes 
 becoming his rank, together with a piece of linen." 
 
 The day after our arrival in Bennington we set out 
 to visit the battle-ground which hes about six miles to 
 the west of the city, near the town of North Hoosick. 
 Before reaching it we came upon a sign that indicates 
 the site of the house to which Colonel Baume was taken 
 and in which he died. From a point just above this, 
 where a power-house stands by a railway embankment, 
 you gain, I think, the best idea of the battle-field as a 
 whole. 
 
 Directly in front of you rises the steep hill upon which 
 the dragoons and Rangers were posted with the Walloom- 
 sac skirting its base. From the other side of the em- 
 bankment you can see a great maple-tree that stands 
 by the ford which the Canadians defended, and from the 
 top of the hill you look down on the positions taken by 
 the American militia: Herrick to the north, Nichols to 
 the east, Stickney and Hubbard to the south. 
 
 85 
 
REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 
 
 Somewhere I found this poetic version of the view 
 from this hilltop, penned by a romantic Hessian, who 
 escaped capture by fleeing to the forest he describes: 
 
 "The fields looked green and refreshed (after a night 
 of rain) the river was swollen and tumultuous and the 
 branches were all loaded with dew-drops wliich ghttered 
 in the sun's rays, like so many diamonds. Nor would it 
 be easy to imagine any scene more rife with peaceful or 
 even pastoral beauty. Looking down from this summit 
 of the rising ground, I beheld immediately beneath me a 
 wide sweep of stately forest, interrupted at remote in- 
 tervals by green meadows or yellow cornfields, whilst 
 here and there, a cottage, a shed, or some primitive edi- 
 fice reared its modest head, as if for the purpose of re- 
 minding the spectator, that man had begun his inroads 
 upon nature, without as yet taking away from her sim- 
 plicity and grandeur." 
 
 Except that the "green meadows and yellow corn- 
 fields" are now more extensive and the forests of smaller 
 size than formerly, his description of this view quite fits 
 it to-day, and well conveys the charm of this Walloomsac 
 Valley, The l)attle-field, I hear, has recently been ac- 
 quired by the State, and a monument is to be erected 
 upon the historic hill where Stark's New Englanders 
 made the first successful attack of the war upon an in- 
 trenched enemy. 
 
 His victory, so complete and so substantial, was most 
 heartening to the patriots and greatly strengthened their 
 cause; while to Burgoyne it was a bitter blow, frustrat- 
 ing all his hopes of replenishing his supplies. 
 
 86 
 
Ill 
 
 THE MOHAWK VALLEY 
 
 ON almost the same day that saw this British 
 expedition defeated at Bennington St. Leger's 
 column reached the end of its career up in the 
 Mohawk Valley. In my chapter on Ticonderoga I al- 
 luded to this expedition, explaining that it was to invade 
 New York State from the west, descending by way of 
 the Mohawk to join Burgoyne at Albany, 
 
 It had successfully ascended the St. Lawrence River 
 to Lake Ontario, crossed that lake, moved up the Oswego 
 and Oneida Rivers to Oneida Lake, and from Sylvan 
 Beach had made its way up Fish Creek, so that at the 
 beginning of August it was but a short portage from the 
 Mohawk. 
 
 On the Mohawk River, where the city of Rome now 
 stands, was the principal American outpost in the Mo- 
 hawk Valley, Fort Stanwix. This fort had just been 
 strengthened and renamed, in honor of the general of 
 the Northern Department, Fort Schuyler. It was com- 
 manded by Colonel Peter Gansevoort, who, with rein- 
 forcements that had just reached him, had a garrison of 
 about a thousand men. 
 
 87 
 
REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 
 
 It is indeed difficult for the traveller who journeys 
 nowadays down the Mohawk Valley in a Pullman car 
 to picture it as it was in the days of the Revolution. 
 Its broad fields and well-tilled acres, its peaceful villages 
 and thriving towns in no way even remotely suggest the 
 pathless forests that then clothed the banks of the river, 
 affording safe hiding-places for the cruel savages that 
 infested them — the red men that played so conspicuous 
 a part in the Revolutionary history of this wild district. 
 In these forests the ferocious tribesmen depicted by 
 Fenimore Cooper had free rein for the practice of their 
 barbarous warfare, and they and the Tories of the region, 
 particularly numerous and particularly bitter, vied with 
 each other in deeds of cruelty. 
 
 St. Leger was taking advantage of these circumstances 
 and was using the Indians and Tories in great numbers, 
 allowing the former the practice of their savage customs, 
 the unrestrained use of the scalping-knife and tomahawk. 
 
 When he finally left his boats at Fish Creek and started 
 tlirough the forest to invest Fort Schuyler, he organized 
 liis column in masterly fashion. A diagram of his plan 
 of march was afterward found among the papers in his 
 writing-desk, and shows liis troops thus ingeniously dis- 
 posed: first came five files of Indians, walking singly, 
 spaced well apart and flanking the British flag. These 
 were led by Joseph Brant, a full-blooded Mohawk, whose 
 Indian name, Thayendanega, signified strength; a savage 
 fighter, noted for his many cruelties, but so shre\Ad, 
 withal, and of such conspicuous ability that he held a 
 
TO THE PLAINS OF SARATOGA 
 
 colonel's commission from the British king. More than 
 fom- hundred paces beliind these Indians came the ad- 
 vanced guard, and a hundred paces beliind these the two 
 main columns of regulars, also in single file, with files of 
 Indians flanking them to the right and left, as well as 
 covering their rear. By this clever disposition, protected 
 on all sides by a curtain of redskins, St. Leger was able 
 to march through the pathless forest without fear of am- 
 buscade or surprise of any kind. 
 
 He arrived before Fort Schuyler on the 3d of August, 
 with his strange array of British regulars, Hessian chas- 
 seurs, Canadians, Royal Green Tories, and warriors from 
 all the tribes of the Six Nations. He instantly sum- 
 moned the garrison to surrender under dire threats of re- 
 prisal. Gansevoort indignantly refused, and sat tight 
 behind his breastworks. So St. Leger drew in his lines 
 and laid siege to the fortress, the Indians keeping up a 
 hideous howling tliroughout the night to intimidate the 
 garrison. 
 
 Meanwhile General Nicholas Herkimer, who lived 
 farther down the valley in an old brick house still stand- 
 ing, had called up the militia of Try on County to organize 
 and hasten to the relief of Fort Schuyler. They eagerly 
 responded, collecting at Fort Dayton, in the German 
 Flats, where the thriving town of Herkimer now stands. 
 
 Herkimer sent a messenger to Gansevoort apprising 
 him of his movements, and requesting the commander of 
 the fort to co-operate by making a sortie upon liis ap- 
 proach. He then advanced beyond Utica and there 
 
 89 
 
REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 
 
 awaited the three signal-guiis that were to tell him that 
 liis messenger had arrived in safety at the fort. This 
 messenger, however, was delayed for a whole day or more, 
 and some of Herkimer's younger officers, impetuous and 
 impatient, wanted to move on. The old man tried to 
 restrain them, but under their repeated taunts — they 
 called him a coward and a Tory — he finally gave in and, 
 against his own good judgment, ordered an advance. 
 
 St. Leger, informed of Herkimer's approach, sent forth 
 a strong column, composed largely of Tory troops and 
 Indians, under Brant, to waylay him en route and en- 
 trap him in an ambush. For this purpose Brant selected 
 a ravine near Oriskany, about eight miles east of Fort 
 Schuyler, He disposed his troops and his Indians in 
 a wide circle, completely hidden by the dense woods, 
 leaving only the road from LItica open. 
 
 Into this sort of funnel the unsuspecting Americans 
 marched on a dark, sultry morning, crossing the marshy 
 bottom of the ravine by means of a narrow causeway of 
 earth and logs, where the road in the foreground of my 
 picture now traverses the hollow. When the marching 
 column was well within the trap, Brant gave the signal, 
 the circle tightened and closed in, and from every side, 
 with war-whoop, spear, and tomahawk, the Indians 
 sprang forth, while the British troops poured in a hot 
 fire from the cover of the woods. 
 
 At first the Americans were dismayed by this sudden 
 onslaught, but under brave, cool Herkimer's leadership 
 they quickly rallied and desperately defended themselves. 
 
 90 
 
TO THE PLAINS OF SARATOGA 
 
 Their general was soon severely wounded but, propped 
 against a tree, continued to give his clear, calm orders. 
 The Americans now formed into circles so as to face 
 their encircling foes, and were fighting with the greatest 
 obstinacy and bravery, when the clouds that had been 
 gathering heavily all morning suddenly, with a terrific 
 peal of thunder, broke into a torrent of rain. The firing 
 ceased as both sides sought shelter for a while and pre- 
 pared for a second trial of strength. 
 
 Johnson's Greens, a Tory regiment recruited in the 
 district, now came up to reinforce the British. The 
 sight of these men, many of whom were their neighbors 
 
 The Ravine near Orislcany 
 
 91 
 
REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 
 
 and erstwhile friends, infuriated the Americans to such a 
 degree that, as soon as the rain had ceased, they leaped 
 upon their enemies in a fierce hand-to-hand encounter, 
 fighting venomously with bayonets and knives. The 
 struggle now became imbued with all the bitterness of 
 civil warfare and was one of the fiercest and, in pro- 
 portion to the numbers engaged, the bloodiest of the 
 war. 
 
 But now the Indians, seeing many of their number 
 lying prone upon the ground, while the patriots still held 
 firm, began to give way and, yelling, fled to the woods. 
 The Tories and Canadians soon followed their example 
 and retreated in confusion, with the Americans in hot 
 pursuit. But the patriots were too weakened in num- 
 bers to push on, or to continue their march to the fort, 
 so they, too, fell back toward Fort Dayton, carrying their 
 wounded with them. Among these was gallant Herkimer, 
 who died a few days later in his own house. 
 
 During tliis battle the garrison of Fort Schuyler had 
 made its sortie, as prearranged; and, though it succeeded 
 in capturing much plunder, including six British flags, 
 it failed, of course, to unite with the relief column. St. 
 Leger now again demanded a surrender. Gansevoort's 
 answer was a flat refusal, so St. Leger began to push for- 
 ward his parallels. 
 
 Gansevoort then sent messengers to General Schuyler, 
 asking for aid, and these, after many hardships, succeeded 
 in reaching the commander at Stillwater, where we left 
 him encamped. He quickly assumed the responsibility 
 
 92 
 
TO THE PLAINS OF SARATOGA 
 
 of sending a relief force, even at the risk of weakening his 
 own scant army, and Arnold volunteered to command it. 
 Rumors of its advance and of its strength, these latter 
 exaggerated, now reached St. Leger. The Indians, too, 
 heard these reports and wanted to retreat, so they 
 
 *' artfully caused messengers to come in one after another, 
 with accounts of the near approach of the rebels; one 
 and the last affirmed that they were within two miles of 
 Captain Lernoult's post." When their stories were not 
 entirely credited "they grew furious and abandoned; 
 seized upon the officers' hquor and cloaths in spite of the 
 efforts of their servants and became more formidable 
 than the enemy we had to expect." * 
 
 Finally they fled in all directions, and the British com- 
 mander, believing Arnold's force near, suddenly in the 
 dead of night lifted the siege and, abandoning his artil- 
 lery and baggage, retreated precipitately to Oswego. 
 
 Thus the Mohawk Valley expedition met its fate on 
 almost the same day that witnessed the British defeat at 
 Bennington, and as the British Annual Register rightly 
 observes : 
 
 "The Americans represented this affair and the affair 
 at Bennington as great and glorious victories. Nothing 
 could excel their exultation and confidence. Gansevoort 
 and Willet, with General Stark and Colonel Warner, 
 who had commanded at Bennington, were ranked among 
 those who were considered as the saviours of their coun- 
 try." 
 
 * Report of Lieutenant-Colonel Barry St. Leger, dated Oswego, August 
 27, 1777. 
 
 93 
 
REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 
 
 At Oriskany there is little but the lay of the land to 
 remind one of the savage struggle that took place in the 
 depths of the forest. A monument commemorates the 
 battle, but the field whereon it took place has lost its 
 forests, and is now rolling country dotted only here and 
 there with trees. No vestige remains of Fort Schuyler 
 in the busy present-day city of Rome, and no trace of 
 Fort Dayton is to be found at Herkimer. 
 
 But the flavor of these Revolutionary conflicts lingers 
 in the valley for him who will seek it out. This is espe- 
 cially true farther down near the thriving town of Her- 
 kimer, which, as I have said, stands upon the site of old 
 Fort Dayton, where Herkimer organized his expedition 
 for the rehef of Fort Schuyler. 
 
 His father, John Jost Herkimer, who had come to the 
 Mohawk Valley from the Lower Palatinate on the Rliine, 
 was one of the oldest residents of the German Flats, as 
 this district is called, and had built himself a stone 
 house, since destroyed, which was included in the stock- 
 aded area of Fort Herkimer, that stood in a fine position 
 on the south side of the river, about a mile and a half 
 east of Fort Dayton. Also within these stockades stood 
 the old Stone Church that I have drawn — a stout edifice, 
 almost a fortress in itself, originally but one story high, 
 the masonry about the windows plainly showing the 
 addition to its walls. It was built by the Lutheran 
 settlers of the region, and its services were always con- 
 ducted in German. 
 
 In these surroundings the Revolutionary patriot grew 
 
 94 
 

 f* 
 
 ^^-:^ 
 
 Old Stone Church at 
 German Flats 
 
 It was built in 1767 and formed 
 part of the stockade defense of 
 Fort Herkimer, and was often 
 vsed as a place of refuge from 
 the raids of Tories and Indians 
 
TO THE PLAINS OF SARATOGA 
 
 up and remained until his father gave him "five hundred 
 acres whereon he built a fine residence on the south bank 
 of the river below the Little Falls." 
 
 Below the town of Herkimer the valley narrows and 
 exchanges its pastoral aspect for that of a rugged gorge, 
 in which the city of Little Falls stands beside the cas- 
 cades of the river. From this place I found it was but 
 a short drive to Danube, where this Herkimer house still 
 stands, close by the south bank of the river — a big, 
 sturdy edifice built of brick and still retaining much of 
 its old-time character. It was from this homestead that 
 the brave old general started out for Oriskany, and to it 
 that he was afterward carried, wounded, to die, some 
 say through the carelessness of an unskilled doctor, who 
 might have saved him from the hemorrhage that killed 
 him. 
 
 He lies on a hillock just behind the house in a little 
 family burying-ground. His grave is the one marked with 
 a flag in my drawing, and to the right of it appears the 
 base of the monument erected to his memory. 
 
 A mile or two below the Herkimer house lies Castle 
 Church, one of those houses of worship due to the 
 generosity of Sir WilUam Johnson. In this mission 
 church Brant, the Mohawk leader, who lived near by, 
 received his first lessons from Kirkland and other mis- 
 sionaries, and here he was employed as an interpreter to 
 give instruction to his tribesmen. But at the beginning 
 of the Revolution he espoused the British cause; all his 
 teachings were forgotten and his innate savagery burst 
 
 97 
 
REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 
 
 forth again as he led his fierce warriors upon their bloody 
 forays against the Whig settlers of the region. 
 
 Farther down the valley, but still upon the river, lies 
 Fonda, which is the most convenient point upon the 
 railroad from wliich to visit Johnson Hall. 
 
 
 \m 
 
 d-t 
 
 General Herkimer's House and Grave 
 
 This great baronial manor was, up to the time of the 
 Revolution, the most important house in the Province 
 of New York outside of New York City. It was built 
 by Sir William Johnson in 1760, and in it the baronet 
 lived like a feudal lord with his "wives and concubines, 
 sons and daughters of different colors." One of these 
 wives was Mary Brant, sister of the Mohawk chieftain. 
 
 Sir William was handsome and dignified, and his 
 haughty manners and fine speeches so won the Indians 
 
 98 
 
TO THE PLAINS OF SARATOGA 
 
 to him that he possessed a remarkable ascendancy over 
 them, to which is largely due their loyalty to the British 
 cause during the Revolution. He died in 1774, very 
 suddenly, in his sixtieth year, and his funeral was the 
 
 Castle Church, near Danube 
 
 most elaborate that the colonists of the region had ever 
 witnessed, nearly two thousand mourners, including all 
 the colonial dignitaries and Indian sachems, accompany- 
 ing the funeral procession. 
 
 He was succeeded in his lands and titles by his son. Sir 
 John, a man of much smaller calibre, who fled to Canada 
 at the outbreak of the Revolution, and whose lands were 
 then sequestrated. To this is to be ascribed his implaca- 
 
 99 
 
REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 
 
 ble hatred of the patriots, as well as that of his friend 
 Brant, whose enmity toward the Whig settlers of the 
 valley was unrelenting. 
 
 Johnson Hall has retained much of its original aspect. 
 The manor-house has been somewhat disfigured by the 
 addition of bay windows, porches, and a "cupola," but 
 its simple, original lines are still plainly visible. It is 
 flanked by stone blockhouses of very solid structure, 
 pierced, just under the roofs, by loopholes for muskets. 
 When Sir William occupied it, the residence and these 
 blockhouses were surrounded by a twelve-foot breast- 
 work, thus constituting a veritable fortress. 
 
 After its sequestration Johnson Hall was owned for 
 many years by successive members of the Wells family, 
 and was still inhabited, when I was last there, by a mem- 
 ber of that family. On the stair rail in the hall are regular 
 marks, cut with a hatchet, which are said to have been 
 made by Brant as a signal to the Indians neither to pil- 
 lage nor burn the house of his friend. 
 
 In Johnstown, the nearest township to the hall, still 
 stand the court-house and the old stone jail, that up to 
 the time of the Revolution were the only places for the 
 administration of justice west of Albany. 
 
 100 
 
IV 
 
 SARATOGA 
 
 WE left Burgoyiie stationed upon the Hudson 
 at Fort Edward. By the defeat of his 
 Bennington expedition, and the dispersal 
 of St. Leger's troops in the Mohawk Valley, the second 
 act of liis drama — begun so auspiciously on Lake Cham- 
 plain — was now ending with heavily clouded skies. 
 
 Unfortunate commander ! One cannot but pity him 
 — this high-strung soldier-poet who, through no fault of 
 his own, saw with each advance his line of communica- 
 tion grow thinner and weaker; who listened in vain for 
 an encouraging word of the advance of General Howe 
 from the south — the man he had been despatched to 
 join; who felt the toils tightening about him; who saw 
 his own army dwindle with each reverse, while liis enemy's 
 grew stronger daily. 
 
 For, inspirited by their victories at Oriskany and Ben- 
 nington, the militia was flocking into Schuyler's camp 
 at Stillwater, while several regiments of Continentals, 
 despatched from the Highlands, also joined him. All 
 seemed to augur the success of his deep-laid plans. At 
 this crucial moment, when these plans seemed upon the 
 very point of fruition, General Schuyler — able and ardent 
 
 101 
 
REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 
 
 patriot, the only one of his generals for whom Washing- 
 ton signed himself "your affectionate friend" — suddenly 
 found himself, through Congressional intrigue and cabal, 
 superseded as commander of the Northern Department 
 by Horatio Gates, the schemer and ambitious politician. 
 
 Without a word of protest, like the gentleman he was, 
 he handed over his command to his successor, to whom 
 Congress now allowed all that it had refused to him. 
 Morgan's famous riflemen were sent to Stillwater, where 
 the Americans had laid out their camp, and intrenched 
 it under Kosciusko's direction. 
 
 By the beginning of September the main armies 
 were about to confront each other, for Burgoyne had ad- 
 vanced down the Husdon as far as Batten Kill and was 
 preparing to cross the river, Thomas Anburey, the 
 British officer whom I have before quoted, writes: 
 
 "The bridge of boats was soon constructed and thirty 
 days provisions brought up for the whole army. On the 
 13th instant, we passed Hudson's River, and encamped 
 on the plains of Saratoga, at which place there is a hand- 
 some and commodious dwelling-house, with out-houses, 
 an exceeding fine saw and grist-mill, and, at a small dis- 
 tance, a very neat church, with several houses round it, 
 all of which are the property of General Schuyler." 
 
 This collection of houses, then called Saratoga, now 
 forms part of Schuylerville, a town upon the Hudson 
 about eleven miles from Saratoga Springs, with which it 
 is connected by a fine State road. The "handsome and 
 commodious dwelhng-house " was burned during the 
 
 102 
 
TO THE PLAINS OF SARATOGA 
 
 battle that ensued, but it was quickly replaced by an- 
 other that still stands almost hidden by the trees, just 
 over the bridge that spans the Fishkill near Victory Mills, 
 where the stream tumbles, in a series of cascades, into the 
 great, calm Hudson. 
 
 The Home of General Philip Schuyler at Old Saratoga 
 
 Tliis Schuyler House, though still occupied, has the 
 air of a haunted manse. We had been informed, before 
 visiting it, that no one was at home. Yet on peering 
 through one of the windows, I was startled to perceive, 
 hobbling about on two canes, across the kitchen floor, an 
 elderly woman, bent and feeble, but with eyes so bright 
 and piercing, and a chin so long and sharp, as to recall 
 some aged witch of old — a figure singularly befitting this 
 house so fraught with memories. 
 
 103 
 
REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 
 
 The British encamped around this spot, near the Fish- 
 kill, on the 14th of September, 1777, and only a few miles 
 of woodland now separated the two hostile armies. 
 
 I present the following quaint extracts from the "Jour- 
 nal" of Elijah Fisher, a native of Norton, Massachusetts, 
 and later a member of Washington's hfe-guard, first, be- 
 cause it is a good summary of the events of the month 
 that followed, and, second, because it is such a curious 
 example of the orthography of an American soldier of 
 the period : 
 
 ''Sept. 19th. The Enemy made an at tact on the Left 
 wing of our army and the Engagement was l)egun at 
 half past two in the afternoon by Col. Morgan's Riflemen 
 and Lite Infintry — . . . 
 
 " Oct. 1th. We had the secent Engagement begun at one 
 in the afternoon and the Enemy got wosted and our 
 army Drove them and took Gen. Bergoine's adecamp 
 and the General's Doctor and five hundred tents and 
 five hundred Prisoners officers and solgers and Drove the 
 others. . . . 
 
 " The 8th. The next Day Gen. Gates gave the Enemy 
 three Days to git off with themselves. . . . 
 
 " The llth. Gen Burgoin and his howl army surrendered 
 themselves Prisoners of Ware and Come to Captelate 
 with our army and Gen. Gates," 
 
 Such is an abstract of the Battles of Saratoga. Now 
 let us look at them in more detail, and visit the fields 
 whereon they took place. 
 
 "On the nineteenth [of September]" says Anburey, 
 *'the army marched to meet the enemy in three divisions; 
 
 104 
 
TO THE PLAINS OF SARATOGA 
 
 the German line flanked the artillery and baggage pur- 
 suing the course of the [Hudson] river through the 
 meadows; the British line marched parallel to it at some 
 distance through the woods forming the center division, 
 whilst the advanced corps, with the grenadiers and light 
 infantry of the Germans made a large circuit through the 
 woods and composed the right hand division. 
 
 "The signal guns for all the colunms to advance were 
 fired between one and two o'clock." . . . 
 
 Here we have the advance to the first battle of Sara- 
 toga — Riedesel's left wing by the river, the main British 
 column in the centre, Fraser's advanced corps on the right. 
 
 The Americans fu-st came in contact with Fraser's 
 corps, and by three o'clock the main action was centring 
 round Freeman's Farm, a house advantageously placed 
 upon a hillock. About it the battle ebbed and flowed, 
 eddying back and forth between two ravines that lead 
 down toward the river. The Americans "behaved with 
 great obstinacy and courage," says the Earl Balcarras, 
 their enemy, and they held their own for some time, 
 until, at the critical moment, General Riedesel was able 
 to bring his troops up from the river into the main 
 action, and with the cannon of Captain Pauscli (whose 
 Journal, by the way, gives us an excellent description of 
 the battle) did much to decide the final issue of this first 
 conflict, the results of which Anburey thus sums up : 
 
 "Just as the evening closed in, the enemy gave way on 
 all sides and left us masters of the field, but darkness 
 prevented a pursuit. . . . 
 
 105 
 
REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 
 
 "Notwithstanding the glory of the day remains on 
 our side, I am fearful the real advantages resulting from 
 this hard fought battle will rest with the Americans, our 
 army being so much weakened by this engagement as 
 not to be of sufficient strength to venture forth and im- 
 prove the victory." 
 
 Such indeed proved the case. For a fortnight or more, 
 the two armies lay watching each other, like two giants 
 preparing for a death-grapple, yet awaiting a propitious 
 first hold. Then the British could afford to delay no 
 longer. To remain in camp was to starve. So, at all 
 costs, Burgoyne determined to try to force his way 
 through Gates's army and reach Albany. 
 
 On the 7th of October he moved forward again, and a 
 second desperate battle ensued over practically the same 
 terrain as the first engagement. The Americans at- 
 tacked the entire British line as soon as the action be- 
 gan. Under the impact of their furious onslaughts even 
 the British grenadiers wavered. Gallant Eraser tried, 
 for a long time, to steady his men, but, despite his 
 efforts, before the repeated attacks of Morgan's riflemen 
 — those stanch backwoodsmen — the British lines began 
 to break. 
 
 At this juncture Arnold, who had had a quarrel with 
 Gates and resigned his commission dashed, like one in- 
 toxicated, with impetuous fury to the head of his former 
 troops and, cheered to the echo, led them like a whirl- 
 wind upon the broken lines of the British left. Eraser, 
 trying to withstand the shock, was mortally wounded. 
 
 106 
 
TO THE PLAINS OF SARATOGA 
 
 Arnold, too, pushing into the very heart of Breyman's 
 redoubt, was severely wounded just as the battle finished 
 in complete victory for the patriots, 
 
 Thomas Anburey was on camp duty that day, so saw 
 nothing of the battle itself, but he thus graphically de- 
 scribes the beginning of the end, as his comrades began to 
 return : 
 
 "Nor can you conceive the sorrow visible on every 
 face as General Fraser was brought in wounded, your old 
 friends, Campbell and Johnston, of our regiment, on each 
 side of his horse, supporting liim. . . . 
 
 "Early in the morning General Fraser breathed his 
 last and at his particular request, was buried without any 
 parade, in the great redoubt, by the soldiers of his own 
 corps. About sunset the corpse was carried up the hill, 
 the procession was in view of both armies." 
 
 The great redoubt here mentioned was on one of three 
 mound-Hke hills, that we shall soon visit, down by the 
 Hudson. The night of the second battle found the de- 
 feated British forces compactly collected around these 
 hills near Wilbur's Basin, broken, crippled, and laden 
 with wounded. The following evening, abandoning al- 
 most everything, Burgoyne retreated in a heavy rain up 
 the river bank and back to his old camp at Saratoga. 
 But even there he was not safe, for, like a wild animal 
 tracked to its lair, he was soon surrounded by vastly 
 superior forces. 
 
 At the north end of his camp stood a house that had 
 always belonged to the Marshall family. It still stands 
 
 107 
 
REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 
 
 at the extreme north end of Schuylerville, quite in the 
 open country, shaded by great pine-trees, and overlook- 
 ing the placid Hudson. Its exterior has been modernized, 
 so I have chosen to make a sketch of the cellar — the very 
 
 Cellar in the Mar.iliall House, Schuylerville, which ivas 
 Used as a Hospital by the British 
 
 one described by Madame Riedesel, the devoted wife 
 who followed her husband, the German general, through 
 this entire campaign and whose letters give so vivid an 
 account of her Saratoga experiences. The rafters she 
 describes, pierced by cannon-balls, can still be seen, and 
 from the porch you may look across the river and see, 
 
 108 
 
TO THE PLAINS OF SARATOGA 
 
 as she did, the hills where the American soldiers stationed 
 themselves to fire upon the house: 
 I quote from her "Letters": 
 
 "About two o'clock in the afternoon the firing of can- 
 non was again heard, and all was alarm and confusion. 
 My husband sent me a message telling me to betake my- 
 self forthwith into a house which was not far from me. 
 I seated myself in the calash with my children, and had 
 scarcely driven up to the house, when I saw on the oppo- 
 site side of the Hudson River, five or six men with guns, 
 which were aimed at us. Almost involuntarily I threw 
 the children on the bottom of the calash and myself over 
 them. At the same instant the churls fired, and shat- 
 tered the arm of a poor English soldier behind us, who was 
 already wounded, and was on the point of retreating into 
 the house. Immediately after our arrival, a frightful 
 cannonade was begun, principally directed against the 
 house in which we had sought shelter, probably because 
 the enemy believed, from seeing so many people flocking 
 around it, that all the generals made it their head- 
 quarters. Alas ! it harbored none but wounded soldiers, 
 or women ! 
 
 "We were finally obhged to take refuge in a cellar in 
 which I laid myself down in a corner not far from the 
 door. My children laid down on the earth with their 
 heads upon my lap, and in this manner we passed the 
 entire night. A horrible stench, the cries of the children, 
 and yet more than all this, my own anguish prevented 
 me from closing my eyes. 
 
 "On the following morning the cannonade began again, 
 but from a different side. I advised all to go out of the 
 cellar a little while, during which time I would have it 
 
 109 
 
REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 
 
 cleaned, as otherwise we should all be sick. . . . After 
 they had all gone out and left me alone, I for the first 
 time surveyed our place of refuge. It consisted of three 
 beautiful cellars, splendidly arched. ... I had just 
 given the cellars a good sweeping and had fumigated them 
 by sprinkling vinegar on burning coals and each one (the 
 wounded) had found his place prepared for him — when 
 a fresh and terrible cannonade threw us all once more 
 into alarm. . . . Eleven cannon balls went through the 
 house, and we could plainly hear them rolling over our 
 heads. One poor soldier, whose leg they were about to 
 amputate, having been laid upon a table for this purpose, 
 had the other leg taken off by another cannon ball, in 
 the very middle of the operation. ... I was more dead 
 than alive, though not so much on account of my own 
 danger, as for that which enveloped my husband, who, 
 however, frequently sent to see how I was getting along, 
 and to tell me he was still safe. ... In this horrible 
 situation we remained six days. Finally, they spoke of 
 capitulating, as by temporizing for so long a time, our 
 retreat had been cut off. . . . 
 
 "On the 17th of October the capitulation was con- 
 summated. The generals waited upon the American 
 general-in-chief. Gates, and the troops laid down their 
 arms, and surrendered themselves prisoners of war. ; . . 
 
 "At last my husband sent to me a groom with a mes- 
 sage that I should come to him with our children. I, 
 therefore, again seated myself in my dear calash; and in 
 the passage through the American camp, I observed, with 
 great satisfaction, that no one cast at us scornful glances. 
 On the contrary, they all greeted me, even showing com- 
 passion on their countenances at seeing a mother with 
 her little children in such a situation. . . . 
 
 "When I approached the tents, a noble looking man 
 
 110 
 
TO THE PLAINS OF SARATOGA 
 
 came toward me, took the children out of the wagon, 
 embraced and kissed them, and then, with tears in his 
 eyes, helped me also to alight. 'You tremble,' said he 
 to me, 'fear nothing.' 'No,' replied I, 'for you are so 
 kind, and have been so kind to my children, that it has 
 inspired me with courage.' He then led me to the tent 
 of General Gates, with whom I found Generals Burgoyne 
 and Phillips, who were on an extremely friendly footing 
 with him. Burgoyne said to me, 'You may now dismiss 
 all your apprehensions, for your sufferings are at an 
 end.' . . . All the generals remained to dinner with 
 General Gates. The man who had addressed me so 
 kindly, came up and said to me, ' It may be embarrassing 
 to you to dine with all these gentlemen; come now with 
 your children into my tent, where I will give you, it is 
 true, a frugal meal, but one that will be accompanied by 
 the best of wishes.' 'You are certainly,' answered I, 'a 
 husband and a father, since you show me such kindness.' I 
 then learned that he was the American General Schuyler." 
 
 Schuylerville, named for this gallant gentleman, or 
 Saratoga, as it used to be called, is a pretty town ranged 
 for the most part along one broad thoroughfare running 
 parallel to the river. Though haunted with memories 
 of the Indian Wars, one event stands pre-eminent in its 
 history: it was the scene of Burgoyne's surrender. 
 
 This important ceremony, by wliich the Americans 
 took possession of nearly six thousand prisoners, with 
 their arms and accoutrements, besides thirty-five pieces 
 of the best artillery then known, took place down near 
 the old Schuyler House, to which I have already alluded. 
 The troops laid down their arms in the low-lying field 
 
 111 
 
REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 
 
 just north of the Fishkill, and Rurgoyne dehvered his 
 sword to Gates to the south of that stream, where the 
 commanding general's marquee stood upon a height. 
 
 A great obehsk, visible far and near, commemorates 
 this event — a monument due to the incessant labor of a 
 group of patriotic citizens of the locality, and by its size 
 and costly appearance giving evidence of their zeal. 
 
 To visit the scene of the battles we took the new State 
 road that leads southward to Mechanicsville. As soon as 
 we had passed Quaker Springs we w ere on historic ground, 
 for here we began to follow the route of Fraser's column 
 to their position in the first battle. From here down to 
 the river, that can be seen off to the east, extended the 
 lines of Rurgoyne's army. 
 
 The woods that then clothed the rolling hills have 
 largely disappeared, for now^ trees only follow the hedge- 
 rows. The battle-ground to-day has a serene, pastoral 
 aspect, its hillocks dotted, here and there, with scattered 
 farms set in well-tilled fields. To the east, across the 
 Hudson, rises Willard's Mountain, whence the Americans 
 observed the Rritish movements. 
 
 We soon reached Freeman's Farm, now^ Rrightman's, 
 around which both battles raged. Its site is marked by 
 a tablet, and a small monument to the north indicates 
 the position of Rreyman's Hill, the Hessian redoubt, 
 where Colonel Rreyman was killed and Arnold wounded 
 in his last spectacular assault. 
 
 Farther down the road to the south you come upon a 
 stone erected to Daniel Morgan's memory by his great- 
 
 112 
 
TO THE PLAINS OF SARATOGA 
 
 granddaughter, and thus inscribed: "Here Morgan, re- 
 luctant to destroy so noble a foe, was forced by pathetic 
 necessity to defeat and slay the gentle and gallant Fraser." 
 Now a broad panorama unfolds itself southward, and the 
 hills called Bemis's Heights become plainly visible — the 
 hills upon which the Americans lay intrenched before 
 the battle. As we approached the great ravine across 
 which both conflicts eddied, we found a stone that marked 
 the position of Fort Neilson, a fortified log barn that 
 formed the apex or north salient of the American camp. 
 Just beyond it another stone, near a farmhouse, indi- 
 cates the position of Gates's headquarters. 
 
 We then descended rapidly toward the river and came 
 to the site of the old Bemis House that gave its name to 
 these historic heights. 
 
 It stood near the 
 present-day Bemis's 
 Heights Tavern, just 
 below which lies the 
 village of Stillwater. 
 We had now 
 reached the southern 
 extremity of the 
 battle-field. To com- 
 plete the circuit you 
 should here turn 
 north along the river 
 and ascend to Wil- 
 bur's Basin, where 
 
 
 ^<^^ 
 
 Old Battle Tf'ell, Freeman's Farms 
 113 
 
REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIxMAGE 
 
 stand the three hills by the river, on one of which was 
 the Great Redoubt where General Fraser was buried. 
 John Taylor's house, to which he was carried and in 
 which he died, used to stand near by. Around these 
 three hills, under the guns of the Great Redoubt, the de- 
 feated Rritish army huddled after the second battle, and 
 from this point started on their retreat back to the place 
 of their first encampment, struggling along up the river 
 in a driving rain by way of Do-ve-gat, or Coeville, to 
 the heights just north of Saratoga, where they finally 
 surrendered. 
 
 So ended Rurgoyne's campaign, begun so splendidly 
 and attended with such brilhant hopes. The third act 
 of his drama was finished in disaster and defeat, and the 
 remnants of his proud army marched ofT to Cambridge 
 as prisoners of war. 
 
 No American, I Ihink, can visit these plains of Sara- 
 toga without a certain thrill of patriotic pleasure — pride 
 in the courage of his ancestors, who here made their first 
 great capture of the war; humbhng an army of veterans; 
 lifting the gloom from Howe's capture of Philadelphia; 
 and flashing the news of their triumph across the sea, by 
 swift saihng ship from Roston, throwing "Turgot and all 
 Paris into transports of joy," and thus influencing the 
 French King himself to espouse the American cause. 
 The surrender at Saratoga was one of the most decisive 
 events of the war. 
 
 114 
 
DOWN THE HUDSON 
 
DOWN THE HUDSON 
 
 A FTER the surrender of Burgoyne the chief actors 
 /_% in the Saratoga drama set out for Albany. As 
 ^ .m. there was some difficulty in procuring suitable 
 quarters for the captured commander and his mihtary 
 family in the small city of that day, General Schuyler 
 generously offered his own house for their use, and his 
 invitation was accepted. "He wrote his wife to prepare 
 everything for giving him (Burgoyne) the best reception 
 and his intentions were perfectly fulfilled." * 
 
 Of the arrival of the party and of their stay in Albany 
 Madame Riedesel has this to say: 
 
 "The day after this, we arrived in Albany, where we 
 had so often longed to be. But we came not as victors ! 
 We were, nevertheless, received in the most friendly 
 manner by the good General Schuyler, and by his wife and 
 daughters, who showed us the most marked courtesy, 
 as, also. General Burgoyne, although he had — without 
 any necessity, it is said — caused their magnificently built 
 houses! to be burned. . . . Even General Burgoyne 
 was deeply moved at their magnanimity and said to Gen- 
 eral Schuyler 'It is to me, who have done you so much 
 injury, that you show so much kindness!' 'That is the 
 fate of war,' replied the brave man, 'let us say no more 
 
 * Marquis de Chastellux, "Travels in North America." 
 t At Schuylerville or Saratoga. 
 
 117 
 
REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 
 
 about it,' We remained three days with them, and they 
 acted as if they were very reluctant to let us go." 
 
 The old Schuyler mansion, in which they aU stayed, 
 still stands toward the south end of Albany, on a hill 
 not very far from the river. Until quite recently it has 
 been used as an orphan asylum, but the State has now 
 bought it, and is restoring it to its original appearance. 
 It is an ample residence, built of buff bricks with white 
 woodwork, and is finely set in a large square of land, 
 shaded by aged chestnut- trees. 
 
 An octagonal entry that juts from the facade serves 
 as a sort of vestibule from which you enter at once a 
 great square hall, with a drawing-room at one side and 
 the dining-room at the other. Both rooms, with their 
 handsome fireplaces, recalled to my mind the account 
 given by de Chastellux of the visit he paid to the house 
 toward the close of the Revolution: 
 
 "A handsome house half way up the bank, opposite 
 the ferry, seems to attract attention and to invite strangers 
 to stop at General Schuyler's who is the proprietor as 
 well as architect. I had recommendations to him from 
 all quarters, but particularly from General Washington 
 and Mrs. Carter. I had besides given the rendezvous 
 to Colonel Hamilton who had just married another of 
 his daughters, and was preceded by the Vicomte de 
 Noailles and the Comte de Damas who I knew were ar- 
 rived the night before." 
 
 Making his way, cold and hungry, across the Hudson 
 through the floating ice, he was wishing he might be 
 
 118 
 
DOWN THE HUDSON 
 
 asked to share the proverbial hospitahty of General 
 Schuyler, when 
 
 "the first person we saw on shore was the Chevalier de 
 Mauduit who was waiting with the general's sledge, into 
 which we quickly stepped and were conveyed in an in- 
 stant into a handsome saloon, near a good fire, with Mr. 
 Schuyler, his wife and daughters. Whilst we were warm- 
 ing ourselves, dinner was served, to which every one did 
 honor, as weU as to the Madeira which was excellent 
 and made us completely forget the rigor of the season 
 and the fatigue of the journey. 
 
 "General Schuyler's family was composed of Mrs. 
 Hamilton, his second daughter, who has a mild agreeable 
 countenance; of Miss Peggy Schuyler, whose features 
 are animated and striking; of another charming girl, 
 only eight years old, and of three boys, the eldest of whom 
 is fifteen and are the handsomest children that you could 
 wish to see." 
 
 As may easily be imagined the old Schuyler House is 
 filled with memories. Lafayette, Steuben, Rochambeau, 
 and other distinguished foreigners, as well as most of the 
 celebrated Americans of that day, were, at one time or 
 another, the general's honored guests. In it Alexander 
 Hamilton was married to Miss Elizabeth Schuyler, and, 
 as de Chastellux tells us, was hving there at the time of 
 his visit. The large chambers above and the comfortable 
 rooms below have all been occupied by persons of dis- 
 tinction. In one of the latter Burgoyne was lodged. 
 
 "His bed was prepared in a large room; but, as he 
 had a numerous suite, or family, several mattresses were 
 
 119 
 
REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 
 
 spread on the floor for some of his officers to sleep near 
 him. Mr. Schuyler's second son, a little spoilt child of 
 about seven years old, very forward and arch, as all 
 American children are, but very amiable, was running all 
 the morning about the house. Opening the door of the 
 saloon, he burst out a laughing on seeing all the English 
 collected, and shutting it after him, cried ' Ye are all my 
 prisoners:' this stroke of nature was cruel and rendered 
 them more melancholy than the preceding evening." * 
 
 In the broad light of day, in its present transitional 
 stage, the great house may lack romance, but on a summer 
 night, when the shadows of the chestnut leaves cast their 
 odd silhouettes upon its gleaming walls and its white 
 roof-balustrades glitter against the starlit sky, the effect 
 of the old manor, half-hidden among its trees, is magical 
 and strikingly potent with suggestion, and the shades of 
 its former occupants — the gouty general and his distin- 
 guished visitors — seem to walk again among the dense 
 shadows under the chestnut-trees. . . . 
 
 There is no river trip in our country — and few any- 
 where — that can excel in beauty a voyage down the 
 Hudson from Albany to New York. 
 
 So, as New York is to be the theatre of our next pil- 
 grimage, let us take one of the big boats that make the trip 
 so delightful and follow the historic stream from north to 
 south, reviewing on our way its memories of the Revolution. 
 
 Though no battle of any great consequence was fought 
 upon its shores, the Hudson was always considered an 
 
 * De Chastellux. 
 120 
 
DOWN THE HUDSON 
 
 artery of vital importance by the Revolutionary com- 
 manders, for by means of it and its ferries, communica- 
 tions were maintained between New England and the 
 Middle States. So its principal souvenirs form a tale of 
 plot and counterplot, surprise and treason. 
 
 There is not much to interest us in the upper half of 
 its course, though certainly one will enjoy the ever- 
 changing prospect of the placid water, divided now and 
 then by islands and framed in wooded hills, behind which 
 the great purple silhouettes of the Catskills rise quite 
 near and prominent to the westward. We also pass old 
 Kingston, settled against the hills in its secluded bight 
 — at one time the State capital, and later burned by the 
 British on one of their forays. The only building of con- 
 sequence that survived this fire is the stone house in 
 which the State Legislature met after New York City was 
 captured by the British, and in which, on the 30th of 
 July, 1777, George Clinton was inaugurated first gov- 
 ernor of the State. 
 
 Below Poughkeepsie the river widens and begins to 
 take on that lake-hke aspect that is so characteristic of 
 all its lower course. The first of these lacustral openings 
 is Newburgh Bay. Fishkill and Newburgh both lie upon 
 it, and both towns hold their souvenirs of the closing 
 chapters of the Revolution. 
 
 The Hasbrouck House, that is still plainly visible from 
 the river at the south end of Newburgh, was Wasliington's 
 principal headquarters during the last two years of the 
 war. It stands on a green set out with obsolete caimon, 
 
 121 
 
REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 
 
 dating from various epochs, and seems to be specially 
 guarded by a simple block of brownstone that marks the 
 grave of Uzal Knapp, last survivor of Washington's life- 
 guard, who died here in Newburgh at the age of ninety- 
 nine. 
 
 At the northeast corner of the grounds rises a massive 
 Tower of Victory, an Italianate structure adorned with 
 bronzes, erected "in commemoration of the disbandment, 
 under proclamation of the Continental Congress of 
 October 18, 1783, of the armies by whose patriotic and 
 military virtue our national independence and sover- 
 eignty were established." For it was here in Newburgh 
 that the army was finally disbanded, and it was upon the 
 lawn of this very Hasbrouck House that Washington 
 took leave of his soldiers and subaltern officers before 
 they returned to their homes. 
 
 In the Verplanck House, across the river in Fishkill, 
 the officers met and organized, at General Knox's sug- 
 gestion, the distinguished Society of the Cincinnati, that 
 served to "perpetuate the mutual friendships formed" 
 and that still contributes so much to keep alive the 
 memory of our patriot forebears. 
 
 The interior of the Hasbrouck House — a very simple 
 type of colonial dwelling — has a denuded air, for most 
 of its relics and souvenirs have been transported to 
 a museum that has recently been erected adjacent to 
 it. Rut I like the effect of its bare, whitewashed rooms, 
 with their thick reveals and low-studded ceiling beams, 
 and the austere furnisliings that suggest the simplicity 
 
 122 
 
DOWN THE HUDSON 
 
 of camp life. The principal room is a large chamber 
 that boasts seven doors and but a single window. Three 
 of these doors lead to adjoining apartments — one to the 
 dining-room, one to the office or sitting-room, and the 
 third to a bedroom; while a fourth gives upon a little 
 Dutch stoep that overlooks the Hudson, commanding 
 an extensive view up and down the river. 
 
 But the eye quickly focusses upon the narrow gateway 
 to the Highlands of the Hudson that stands guarded by 
 Breakneck and Storm King, between which you catch 
 a distant glimpse of West Point. From Newburgh the 
 big day-boat rapidly covers the intervening stretch of 
 water to this North Gate of the Highlands, and you enter 
 at once the grand defile that is the crowning scenic glory 
 of the river. 
 
 Most people prefer to see it on "a perfect day," when 
 the heavens are blue and serene, and it certainly has its 
 charms under these conditions. But I, for my voyage, 
 would unquestionably select a day when the clouds hang 
 low and heavy about the mountain- tops ; when the deep 
 purple shadows play over their surfaces, and occasional 
 shafts of sunlight fitfully hght a peak, a crag, or precipice, 
 or project a beam across some stretch of glittering water, 
 for to my mind the bold cliffs of the Highlands need these 
 effects of light and shade to intensify their dramatic 
 atmosphere and to suggest the dark tale — ^in many ways 
 the most tragic of the Revolution — that took place 
 among them and is indelibly interwoven with their sou- 
 venirs — the story of Arnold's treason. 
 
 US 
 
REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIiMAGE 
 
 ^^t-5S^^-<«^^^-^^-w- 
 
 
 The Hudson River at West Point 
 
 As we approach West Point we come to a sharp bend 
 of the river that turns under the northern batteries, and 
 see above us, soaring aloft, the great Victory Monument, 
 framed by trees, with the beautiful outhne of the new 
 Post Chapel crowning the composition. On turning this 
 bend we reahze at once the strategic importance of West 
 Point — always considered the key to the Hudson — and 
 its great value to the army that held it. 
 
 At the time of the Revolution it was defended by an 
 elaborate system of forts and redoubts, and here, at this 
 very bend of the river, an enormous chain designed to 
 impede navigation up and down stream stretched over 
 
 124 
 
DOWN THE HUDSON 
 
 to Constitution Island. A few links of this formidable 
 chain may still be seen up on the Post Parade — bits of a 
 giant's handiwork, each weighing about a hundred and 
 fifty pounds. 
 
 General Heath, who commanded West Point just after 
 Arnold's treason, thus describes this chain: 
 
 "It was as long as the width of the river between 
 West Point and Constitution Island, where it was fixed 
 to great blocks on each side, and under the fire of batteries 
 on both sides of the river. The links of the chain were 
 probably 12 inches wide, and 18 inches long; the iron 
 about 2 inches square. This heavy chain was buoyed 
 up by very large logs of perhaps 16 or more feet long, the 
 chain carried over them, and made fast to each by staples, 
 to prevent their shifting; and there were a number of 
 
 Parts of the Great Chain tvhich was Stretched across the Hudson 
 125 
 
REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 
 
 anchors dropped at distances with cables made fast to 
 the chain to give it a greater stabihty. The short bend 
 of the river at tliis place was much in favor of the chain's 
 proving effectual; for a vessel, coming up the river with 
 the fairest wind and strongest way, must lose them on 
 changing her course to turn the point; and before she 
 could get under any considerable way again, even if the 
 wind was fair, she would be on the chain, and at the same 
 time under a heavy shower of shot and shells." * 
 
 As we round Gee Point between the Chain Battery 
 Walk and Constitution Island, a superb reach of the river 
 opens out before us, broken mountain silhouettes lying 
 one behind another, heavy and blue, then growing fainter 
 and yet more faint as they recede into gray distances. 
 On the right of the river, rising precipitously from the 
 water's edge, tower the grim walls of West Point's battle- 
 mented buildings, stern, rugged structures, harmonizing 
 well with their surroundings and with the purposes for 
 which they were built. 
 
 On the wooded bank opposite, a mile or two below, once 
 stood the Beverley Robinson House, whose name is stiU 
 perpetuated in Beverley Dock — an old residence, built in 
 1750, and a landmark of the region until it was destroyed 
 by fire in 1892. Historically it was of great interest, 
 for in it took place the chief scenes in the story of Arnold's 
 treason. 
 
 So, before we go further, let us briefly rehearse tliis 
 dark tale, for, as we proceed down the river, we shall pass, 
 one after another, the localities connected with it. 
 
 * Heath's " Memoirs." 
 l!26 
 
DOWN THE HUDSON 
 
 In 1780 Benedict Arnold, then a major-general in the 
 American army, was appointed commander of West 
 Point, and, on coming to assume his new command, had 
 taken up his quarters in the Beverley Bobinson House. 
 He had expressly solicited this post, for, even when he 
 was making liis request, he was contemplating his treason- 
 ous act and knew that the importance of West Point 
 would enhance the price of his villainy. For many months 
 he had been carrying on a correspondence, under the 
 name of "Gustavus," with a "Mr. John Anderson, mer- 
 chant," in New York, who was none other than Major 
 John Andre, adjutant-general of the British army. 
 
 Finally, negotiations had proceeded to the point where 
 Andre felt that a personal interview with Arnold was 
 necessary. So, on the 18th of September, 1780, he rode 
 up the Hudson to Dobbs Ferry, where he boarded the 
 Vulture, a British sloop-of-war that lay at anchor off 
 Teller's (Croton) Point. 
 
 A day or two later he was rowed across the river, and 
 landed at the south end of Haverstraw Bay. Arnold, 
 meanwhile, had come down the river in his barge, and at 
 midnight the two men met in a bit of wood known as 
 the Firs, not far from Haverstraw. Their conference 
 lasted until dawn, when together they passed the Amer- 
 ican pickets and repaired to the house of Joshua Hett 
 Smith, a Tory, who was actively aiding the plot. 
 
 While they were breakfasting at his house they heard a 
 cannonade and, looking out of the window, could see that 
 a party of Americans were firing at the Vulture. Andre 
 
 127 
 
REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 
 
 soon perceived, to his dismay, that the ship raised her 
 anchor and dropped out of sight down-stream. He real- 
 ized at once that, as he had no boat, his escape in that 
 quarter was cut off. But Arnold provided him with a 
 pass through the American hues, and Smith fitted him 
 out with a change of clothes, so that he could doff the 
 British uniform that he had worn under his cloak. This 
 change of costume, however, together with the fact that 
 he was within the American lines as a disguised British 
 officer, definitely put him in the category of a spy. 
 
 Arnold now returned to the Beverley Robinson House, 
 and Andre proceeded on horseback to King's Ferry, 
 which he crossed and was riding at a brisk pace down the 
 Albany Post Road to New York, when, just before he 
 entered Tarrytown, he was stopped by a trio of militia- 
 men — Paulding, Van Wart, and Williams. His answers 
 did not satisfy them and, in spite of Arnold's pass, they 
 searched him, finally finding in his stockings important 
 papers with which Arnokl had intrusted him, the black- 
 est kind of evidence of the whole treasonous plot. De- 
 spite all proffered bribes they held him prisoner and 
 marched him off toward West Point and General Wash- 
 ington. 
 
 Washington had been attending a conference in Hart- 
 ford, and was expected to return to the Robinson House 
 at any moment. Arnold was there awaiting him when 
 a messenger arrived with a despatch telling of the cap- 
 ture of a "Mr. John Anderson," with important papers. 
 Keeping his presence of mind, although he realized at 
 
 128 
 
DOWN THE HUDSON 
 
 once what had happened, he hastily bade farewell to his 
 wife, and, teUing his officers that he was needed at West 
 Point, he jumped into his eight-oared barge and was rowed 
 swiftly down the river under the protection of a flag. 
 
 Washington duly arrived an hour or two later, and in 
 a letter to the president of Congress, written the very 
 next day, he thus relates what happened: 
 
 "Robinson's House, in the Highlands 
 
 "September 26, 1780. 
 "Sir, 
 
 "I have the honor to inform Congress that I arrived 
 here yesterday about twelve o'clock on my return from 
 Hartford. Some hours previous to my arrival Major- 
 General Arnold went from his quarters, which were this 
 place, and, as it was supposed, over the river to the gar- 
 rison at West Point, whither I proceeded myself to visit 
 the post. I found General Arnold had not been there 
 during the day; and on my return to his quarters he was 
 still absent. In the mean time, a packet had arrived 
 from Lieut.-Colonel Jameson, announcing the capture of 
 a John Anderson, who was endeavoring to go to New 
 York, with several interesting and important papers, all 
 in the hand-writing of General Arnold. This was also 
 accompanied with a letter from the prisoner, avowing 
 himself to be Major John Andre, Adjutant-General of the 
 British Army, relating the manner of his capture and 
 endeavoring to show that he did not come under the 
 description of a spy. 
 
 "From these circumstances, and information that the 
 General seemed to be thrown into some degree of agita- 
 tion on receiving a letter, a httle while before he went 
 
 129 
 
REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 
 
 from his quarters, I was led to conclude immediately that 
 he had heard of Major Andre's captivity and that he 
 would, if possible, escape to the enemy, and accordingly 
 took such measures as appeared the most probable to 
 apprehend him. But he had embarked in a barge, and 
 proceeded down the river, under a flag, to the ViiUure 
 ship of war which lay at some miles below Stony and 
 Yerplank's Points." 
 
 So Arnold reached the ship in safety, while Andre was 
 brought a captive to the Robinson House. W ashington 
 refused to see him, and after being confined for a few 
 days in old Fort Putnam, situated on a crag above West 
 Point, he was sent for trial to Tappan, whither we shall 
 follow him presently. 
 
 From the parapets of Fort Putnam one gains a splen- 
 did view of the Hudson Highlands. To the west lie the 
 wild hills and deep ravines of Orange County, while to 
 the east a superb panorama unfolds itself, from the North 
 Gate of the Highlands to the South Gate — the river de- 
 scribing a majestic curve as it bends around Constitution 
 Island. The old fort has been restored since I made the 
 accompanying drawing, and its bomb-proof and vaulted 
 barracks have been completely rebuilt. It loses some of 
 its picturesqueness in consequence, but a few of its old 
 cedars, dark, sinister, whipped by wind and weather, still 
 cut their tragic silliouettes against the sky. Inmiediately 
 below its parapets stands the new Post Chapel — an en- 
 during monument to its gifted architects, Ralph Adams 
 Cram and Bertram Goodhue — wliile, lower still, the broad 
 
 130 
 
"^r^r^^-" 
 
 Old Fort Putnam, Shoicirig the Magazines 
 
DOWN THE HUDSON 
 
 green carpet of the Great Parade stretches out, with its 
 trophies, statues, and the buildings of its War College. 
 
 As I sat upon the old walls thinking and gazing far out 
 over this vast panorama, a sound of music suddenly 
 arose in the still air, and I could hear the Post Band 
 playing: 
 
 "And the Star-Spangled Banner in triumph shall wave 
 O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave." 
 
 What a thrill it gave me perched on those historic 
 hillsides! How, despite treason and the plots of its 
 enemies. Old Glory has triumphed, and how proudly it 
 now waves its quadrupled constellation of stars from the 
 tall flagstaff on the Great Parade ! And, as if in con- 
 sonance with this thought, the dark clouds that had 
 been lowering about the mountains now drifted eastward, 
 and the westering sun shot forth its rays from behind 
 them, gilding the landscape with a great effulgence and 
 throwing a gigantic rainbow— emblem of hope— upon the 
 sombre masses of the disappearing thunder clouds. 
 
 Five miles below West Point an iron bridge on the west 
 shore marks the mouth of Poplopen Creek. On the hill 
 to the north of it you will notice a white flagpole. This 
 is the site of Fort Montgomery, and to the south on an- 
 other bluff used to stand Fort Chnton, both forts being 
 very important defenses of the Highlands. Their effec- 
 tiveness was increased by a giant chain, eighteen hun- 
 dred feet long, similar to the one at West Point, that 
 
 133 
 
REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 
 
 stretched across the river between Fort Montgomery and 
 Anthony's Nose, the steep pyramidal mountain opposite. 
 
 While Burgoyne was in the midst of his struggles in 
 the north, Sir Henry Clinton made a diversion up the 
 Hudson and delivered a cleverly planned attack on these 
 two forts. He succeeded in deceiving General Putnam, 
 who lay at Peekskill, as to his real objective, first landing 
 his men on the east bank of the river, as if to tlireaten 
 him, then transferring them by night across King's 
 Ferry to the west bank, marching them around behind 
 great Dunderberg so as to fall on both forts at once from 
 their land approaches. Both were but poorly garrisoned 
 and, after a short resistance, fell into liis hands. 
 
 At a turn of the river below Fort Clinton you look 
 between the crags of the Dunderberg and Anthony's 
 Nose and obtain your first glimpse into Peekskill Bay, 
 with the town of Peekskill sunning itself upon a hillside, 
 resembling in many respects some pretty town on one 
 of the Italian lakes. Another swing of the river, round 
 the base of Thunder Mountain, and a longer reach of the 
 Hudson is disclosed. 
 
 Stony Point closes this vista. Across the narrow pas- 
 sage between it and Verplanck's Point opposite, plied the 
 all-important King's Ferry, one of the main lines of com- 
 munication across the Hudson, and so often mentioned 
 in reports of the movements of troops. 
 
 In June, 1779, Stony Point had been seized by the 
 British, and its possession by them threatened to be a 
 grave menace to Washington's communications. So he 
 
 134 
 
DOWN THE HUDSON 
 
 intrusted General Wayne— " Mad Anthony," as he was 
 called — with the difficult task of retaking it. As you pass 
 it on the boat you will note that this point is a rocky 
 promontory, surrounded on almost every side by water 
 and only connected with the mainland by a narrow 
 causeway. 
 
 General Wayne secretly led liis troops by night to the 
 head of this causeway. They were guided by a negro 
 called Pompey — an ardent patriot, but who knew the 
 British officers well enough to obtain from them the 
 countersign, which, by a strange coincidence, that night 
 was "The fort's our own." With the use of tliis pass- 
 w^ord and the aid of darkness, Pompey came close to the 
 first sentry on the causeway, and had him seized, gagged, 
 and overpowered. The same tactics were used for the 
 second sentry. Then the Americans stealthily crossed 
 
 Stony Point and the Medal Awarded to Anthony Wayne 
 
 135 
 
REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 
 
 the causeway, single file, and formed themselves in two 
 columns with unloaded muskets and fixed bayonets. 
 The two divisions took opposite sides of the hill, and 
 charged up it with such rapidity that, before the garrison 
 could recover from its surprise, they had met within the 
 fort itself and carried it. 
 
 It was a brilliantly successful attack, and for it Congress 
 awarded a medal to Anthony Wayne, "for his brave, 
 prudent, and soldierly conduct." His report to Wash- 
 ington was laconic and characteristic: 
 
 Stoney Point, 16th July, 1779, 
 
 ..T^ n , 2 o'clock A.M. 
 
 Dear Gen^ 
 
 "The fort and Garrison with Col*^ Johnston are ours. 
 Our officers and men behaved like men who are deter- 
 mined to be free. ^t,,^ ^ . , 
 
 I ours most smcerely 
 
 "Ant^ Wayne." 
 
 As the boat passes King's Ferry there opens before 
 you the broad expanse of Haverstraw Bay — a wide sheet 
 of water framed by low-lying hills, with the Yerdrietig 
 Range, first precursors of the Palisades, off to the south- 
 west. These shores of Haverstraw Bay bring us again 
 to the story of Arnold's treason and the capture of 
 Major Andre. 
 
 Down at its far end, off Teller's Point, the VuUure lay. 
 From her Andre was rowed across the river and landed 
 on the west bank, at the foot of the Long Clove. A few 
 miles nearer to you his meeting with Arnold took place 
 at midnight in the woods, at a locality known as "The 
 
 136 
 
DOWN THE HUDSON 
 
 Firs," and at dawn on the 22d of September the two men 
 proceeded together, past the American pickets, to Joshua 
 Hett Smith's house, that still stands on a ridge known 
 as Treason Hill, near West Haverstraw — a squarish stone 
 structure which, when I last saw it, was not greatly 
 changed in appearance since de Chastellux wrote this 
 description of it: 
 
 "My thoughts were occupied with Arnold and his 
 treason, when my road brought me to Smith's famous 
 house, where he had his interview with Andre and formed 
 his horrid plot. It was in this house they passed the 
 night together, and where Andre changed his clothes. 
 It was there that the liberty of America was bargained 
 for and sold; and it was there that chance . . . pre- 
 vented the crime. . . . Smith is still in prison, where 
 the law protects him from justice. But his house seems 
 to have experienced the only chastisement of which it 
 was susceptible; it is punished by solitude; and is in 
 fact so deserted, that there is not a single person to take 
 care of it, although it is the mansion of a large farm." 
 
 The conspirators breakfasted together in the corner 
 room at the southeast angle of the house, and it was 
 while they were at breakfast that they heard the can- 
 nonade down the river, and that Andre, as I have stated, 
 saw the Vulture drop down-stream and reahzed that his 
 escape by means of her had been cut off. 
 
 So, in the light-blue surtout cloak that he had worn 
 over his regimentals, but which now covered a coat 
 "between crimson and claret," and with a civilian's 
 round beaver hat upon liis head, Andre set out later in 
 
 137 
 
REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 
 
 the day, with Smith as his guide, to make his way to 
 New York by way of King's Ferry. They had crossed 
 the river in safety and, with the aid of Arnold's pass, had 
 proceeded ahnost to Tarry town when Smith turned back, 
 probably thinking that they had passed the last American 
 lines. 
 
 It was just beyond this point, as we have seen, that 
 Andre, riding alone, fell in with the three militiamen, and 
 was taken prisoner. 
 
 The next and last of the lake-like reaches of the Hud- 
 son is the Tappan Zee, whose name is linked with the 
 tragic end of Andre's story. For it was to Tappan, off 
 in the hills to the west, that he was sent for trial before 
 
 ^■i.i^i 
 
 w^mww 
 
 Headquarters at Tappan from which the Order for Andre's Execution was Issued 
 
 138 
 
DOWN THE HUDSON 
 
 a council composed of the principal officers of the Ameri- 
 can army, General Greene presiding. 
 
 His trial took place in the Dutch Reformed Church of 
 the village, an edifice that has since disappeared but has 
 been replaced by a larger one upon the same site. This 
 is the church that appears at the head of the village 
 street, depicted in my drawing (page 140) — a street that 
 has changed but little in a hundred years. 
 
 When the board of officers had judged him guilty, "to 
 be considered as a spy from the enemy," Andre was sent 
 under close guard to a house near by, in this same vil- 
 lage street — a substantial stone structure, still known as 
 the '76 Stone House. It is now a tavern, and despite the 
 addition of a "ballroom" at the back, has retained much 
 of its old-time character, and certainly deserves the atten- 
 tion of one of our patriotic societies. 
 
 Andre's courage and deportment during his trial had 
 greatly impressed his judges in his favor, and all wished 
 that he might have been acquitted or exchanged for the 
 traitor Arnold. But military law, then as now, was in- 
 flexible, and even his last toucliing appeal to Washington 
 "to adapt the mode of my death to the feelings of a man 
 of honor," and not to allow him "to die on a gibbet," 
 had to be denied. So on the 2d of October, 1780, he was 
 led forth to execution. 
 
 As he emerged from the old Stone House, "dressed in 
 his royal regimentals and boots," walking arm in arm 
 between Ensign Samuel Bowman and Captain John 
 Hughes, two more officers stood upon the stoop and fell 
 
 139 
 
REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 
 
 in with him, one of them being John Van Dyk, who wrote 
 the letter to which I allude in my visit to Washington's 
 headquarters in Morristown. Five hundred troops were 
 drawn up in the village street, and they, falling into a 
 hollow square, accompanied the slow cortege as it took 
 
 *- ,»^ 
 
 '76 Sfone House in irJiich Andre was Imprisoned 
 
 its way toward the church, turned sharp to the west at 
 the little triangular green and followed the road up the 
 hill to the second turn beyond the present railroad-track. 
 Of this progress from the prison to the place of execu- 
 tion. Doctor Thacher has this to say: 
 
 "I was so near, during the solemn march to the fatal 
 spot, as to observe every movement and to participate 
 in every emotion the melancholy scene was calculated to 
 produce. . . . The eyes of the immense multitude were 
 fixed on him who, rising superior to the fears of death, 
 appeared as if conscious of the dignified deportment he 
 displayed. Not a murmur or a sigh ever escaped him, 
 
 140 
 
DOWN THE HUDSON 
 
 and the civilities and attentions bestowed on him were 
 poHtely acknowledged." 
 
 The road all the way was hned with soldiery, and all 
 the American officers were in their places — all except 
 Washington and his staff, whose absence Andre is said 
 to have noted. Of the various versions of the final scene, 
 Doctor Thacher's is usually quoted, but I prefer the less 
 known one left us by Alexander Hamilton, because, 
 though it gives us fewer material details, it contains such 
 a fine estimate of Andre's charming character. It was 
 written in the form of a letter to Colonel Laurens, and is 
 given in extenso in the "Life of Alexander Hamilton," 
 written by his son. 
 
 "Arrived at the fatal spot, he asked with some emo- 
 tion, ' must I then die in this manner ! ' He was told it 
 had been unavoidable. 'I am reconciled to my fate, 
 (said he) but not to the mode.' Soon, however, recollect- 
 ing himself, he added, 'it will be but a momentary pang;' 
 and, springing upon the cart, performed the last offices 
 for himself, with a composure that excited the admiration 
 and melted the hearts of the beholders. Upon being 
 told the final moment was at hand, and asked if he had 
 anything to say, he answered, 'Nothing but to request 
 you will witness to the world, that I die fike a brave 
 man.' Among the extraordinary circumstances that at- 
 tended him, in the midst of his enemies, he died univer- 
 sally regretted and universally esteemed. . . . 
 
 "There was something singularly interesting in the 
 character and fortunes of Andre. To an excellent un- 
 derstanding, well improved by education and travel, he 
 
 141 
 
REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 
 
 united a peculiar elegance of mind and manners, and the 
 advantage of a pleasing person. It is said, he possessed 
 a pretty taste for the fine arts, and had himself attained 
 some proficiency in poetry, music and painting. His 
 knowledge appeared without ostentation, and embellished 
 by a diffidence that rarely accompanies so many talents 
 
 and accomplishments 
 which left you to sup- 
 pose more than appeared. 
 "His sentiments were 
 elevated and inspired es- 
 teem; — they had a soft- 
 ness that conciliated affec- 
 tion, . . . The character 
 I have drawn of him, is 
 drawn partly from what 
 I saw of him myself, and 
 partly from information." 
 
 
 Stone Marh'ng Ihe Place of Andre s 
 Execntion 
 
 Such was the man who died in the full promise of his 
 youth. "His remains were placed in an ordinary coffin, 
 and interred at the foot of the gallows; and the spot was 
 consecrated by the tears of thousands." * 
 
 This spot, upon a hilltop above Tappan, is now marked 
 by a block of granite surrounded by a circular iron rail- 
 ing. When last I visited it and stepped up to read the 
 inscription, I found that, by a singular chance, I had 
 come to the place upon the very anniversary of his death. 
 So, as I looked about me at the surrounding hills and 
 
 * Doctor Thacher. Andre's remains were afterward removed to West- 
 minster Abbey, where his final resting-place is marked by a handsome 
 monument. 
 
 142 
 
DOWN THE HUDSON 
 
 valleys, I seemed to behold Nature as Andre saw her 
 with his dying look: the leaves just yellowing on the 
 trees; the soft quiet of a day in early October; the blue 
 mists hanging in the valley where the Sparkill meanders 
 past Washington's headquarters, with a glimpse of the 
 white Dutch church steeple nestled snugly among the 
 trees of the village. 
 
 143 
 
ABOUT NEW YORK 
 
ABOUT NEW YORK 
 
 CONSIDERING that the great modern city of 
 New York, like a giant octopus, growing bigger 
 year by year, has reached out its tentacles and 
 spread over the outlying country for many miles, defying 
 every prediction and surpassing every dream of its found- 
 ers, it seems a wonder indeed that anything at all remains 
 among its gigantic edifices and close-built streets to re- 
 call the period of the American Revolution. 
 
 Yet such remains do exist and a visit to them, with a 
 rehearsal of their souvenirs, will, I think, prove most in- 
 teresting. 
 
 So let us begin our New York pilgrimage at the Battery, 
 where Fort George (originally Fort Amsterdam), the out- 
 ward and visible sign of military authority in Colonial 
 days, used to stand upon the site of the present custom- 
 house. It was a strong work, and its guns were supple- 
 mented by an important battery of artillery placed along 
 the water-front to command the harbor — the battery 
 that gave its name to the promenade. 
 
 In front of Fort George, on Bowling Green, stood a 
 big equestrian statue of the King. George III, a cloaked 
 figure, crowned and mounted on a prancing horse, and 
 surrounded, in the year 1771, by the heavy iron raihng 
 brought out from England that still, despite all vicissi- 
 tudes and changes in the neighborhood, fences in the 
 
 147 
 
REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 
 
 little triangular plot of grass. The ornamental supports 
 for the lanterns are still in place, and the sharp iron 
 pahngs and the posts that used to be surmounted with 
 
 Old Houses on State Street, New York City 
 
 heads, so clumsy in workmanship with their worn, hand- 
 wrought appearance, contrast sharply with the finely 
 finished, ornate bronze work on all the surrounding 
 buildings. 
 
 148 
 
ABOUT NEW YORK 
 
 From the town that centred round Bowhng Green one 
 main artery led north through the island and that was 
 Broadway. Number One upon that thoroughfare, now 
 a big office-building, bears a tablet stating that 
 
 Here stood Kennedy House 
 
 once Headquarters 
 
 of Generals Washington and Lee. 
 
 General Charles Lee used it upon his arrival in the city 
 at the beginning of the war while he was inspecting and 
 putting in order its defenses. Washington occupied it 
 as his headquarters during most of the troubled period of 
 active operations which we shall soon follow in some de- 
 tail. Lossing gives a picture of the old house that is 
 reminiscent of some of those that still front the Battery 
 on State Street — houses that afford 
 an excellent idea of the fashionable / "\ 
 
 residences of the Revolutionary 
 period. The tablet might have 
 added that Kennedy 
 House, after the evacua- 
 tion of New York by the 
 Americans, became the 
 headquarters of Sir Henry 
 Clinton and of Sir Guy 
 Carleton. 
 
 Now, if we walk up that 
 narrow slit, walled in by 
 gigantean structures — that 
 
 149 
 
 fi -'1 
 
 ■\ f 
 
 ^ 
 
 
 
 Tnmh of Alerm 
 
 (Jer 
 
 (..^ V5,VV' ■■ 
 
 Hanultou, Triniti/ 
 
 
 Churrh'jard 
 
 
 
 ■ r . 
 
REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 
 
 wonder of the New World that is lower Broadway, we 
 soon reach Trinity Church, in whose graveyard sleep 
 many men and women of the Revolution. Near the 
 south railing lies Alexander Hamilton, under a conspicu- 
 ous tomb erected to the memory of 
 
 The Patriot of Incorruptible Integrity 
 
 The Soldier of Approved Valour 
 
 The Statesman of Consummate Wisdom 
 
 as the epitaph records. In front of it is the plain slab 
 that marks his wife's grave — "Eliza, daughter of Philip 
 Schuyler" — whose girlhood home we have just visited at 
 Albany, and to whose courtship I allude in my chapter 
 devoted to Morristown. 
 
 In the north half of the cemetery, near the Broadway 
 line, rises the so-called martyrs' monument, a tall Gothic 
 memorial 
 
 Sacred to the memory of 
 
 Those brave and good men who died 
 
 Whilst imprisoned in this city for their devotion to 
 
 The Cause of Independence. 
 
 — the men who died in the Sugar House prison and were 
 interred in Trinity Churchyard in nameless graves. 
 
 A few blocks farther up Broadway stands St. Paul's 
 Chapel, now toned to a rich, smoky brown, recalling the 
 London churches designed by Sir Christopher Wren and 
 retaining more of its Colonial atmosphere than any 
 other edifice in the city. It was finished about ten years 
 prior to the Revolution and stood on the outskirts of the 
 
 150 
 
ABOUT NEW YORK 
 
 city, fronting the river, with a lawn sloping down to the 
 
 water, which at that time came up to Greenwich Street. 
 Under the Broadway portico is the monument erected 
 
 in 1776, by order of Congress, to the memory of Major- 
 
 General Richard Montgomery, who fell gloriously while 
 
 charging the citadel at Quebec, killed just as he had 
 
 called to his men: "Men of New 
 
 York, you will not fear to follow 
 
 where your general leads." In ; 
 
 1818 his remains were brought 
 
 down from Canada and interred 
 
 close by this monument. 
 During the British oc- 
 cupation many of the 
 leading officers wor- 
 shipped at St. Paul's, ' 
 and on the day " r 
 of his inaugura- ; i: 
 tion as first Pres- 
 ident of the r 
 United States, 
 
 Washington ) 
 
 went to it to at- ~ 
 
 tend divine ser- 
 vice. Thereafter _ . , ^_:=^ — 
 he attended it ' - ZlJ^'^- 
 regularly and z^— 
 the double pew 
 
 wherein he sat is The Monument to Montgomery, St. PauVs Church 
 
 151 
 
REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 
 
 still to be seen in the left aisle, against the north wall of 
 the church. Opposite it, in the right aisle, is the one 
 occupied by the first American governor of New York, 
 George Clinton. 
 
 To Fraunces' Tavern and its associations I allude in 
 another chapter. 
 
 Now let us rehearse the story of the capture of New 
 York by the British in 1776 and visit the places connected 
 with that campaign. 
 
 When General Howe evacuated Boston in March, 1776, 
 we saw him embark his army and set sail for Halifax. 
 There he remained until the month of June, when he 
 turned his attention to New York, his object being to 
 capture the chief American seaport and make it the base 
 of his future operations. 
 
 On the 28th of June four fleet frigates suddenly ap- 
 peared off Sandy Hook, 
 slipped through the Nar- 
 rows, and dropped anchor 
 in the outer harbor. On 
 board of one of them, the 
 Greyhound, was Howe him- 
 self, come ahead of his 
 forces to confer with the 
 royal governor, Tryon, who 
 was awaiting him in the 
 Lower Bay on one of the 
 King's ships. 
 
 On the following morn- 
 
 Washingions Pew, St. Paul's Church 
 
 152 
 
ABOUT NEW YORK 
 
 ing forty sail were sighted off the Hook, and within a 
 few days a hundred and tliirty men-of-war and trans- 
 ports lay anchored under the lee of Staten Island, where 
 the Quarantine 
 Station now is. 
 They rapidly 
 discharged their 
 troops until the 
 green hills of the 
 island were whit- 
 ened with their 
 tents. 
 
 Washington 
 had foreseen this 
 probable move 
 of Howe's and 
 had done every- 
 thing he could to 
 prepare the city 
 for it. He had 
 carefully gone 
 over the defenses 
 and put them in 
 the best order 
 possible. There were four main strategic points to be 
 guarded: King's Bridge, at the extreme north end of 
 Manhattan Island; Fort George, at the Battery, whose 
 guns, with those of Paulus Hook on the Jersey shore op- 
 posite, commanded the entrance to the Hudson River; 
 
 158 
 
 Map of Operaiions near New York City 
 
REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 
 
 Governor's Island, that defended the mouth of the East 
 River; and Rrooklyn Heights, which overlook and com- 
 mand what was then New York City. 
 
 But a distance of fifteen miles separated King's Bridge 
 from Brooklyn and two ferries were necessary to trans- 
 port troops from Paulus Hook to the same locality. 
 For these extensive hnes of defense Washington disposed 
 of scarcely twenty thousand men, many of them in- 
 sufficiently armed and equipped, and many raw recruits. 
 
 A few days after the arrival of the British ships a 
 messenger from Philadelphia brought tidings of the 
 adoption of the Declaration of Independence. The 
 threatening presence of the enemy's army down the bay 
 and the hourly expectation of an attack had keyed the 
 people of the city to a high tension. So that, when this 
 news reached them, their patriotic enthusiasm knew no 
 bounds. 
 
 At six in the evening, on the 9th of July. 1776, the 
 Declaration was read at the head of the army drawn up 
 on the common, where the present City Hall stands — a 
 tablet on its southwest corner recording that fact. Then 
 the populace, joined by a number of the soldiers, unable 
 to control their feelings and not content with bonfires, 
 tolling bells, and noise of all descriptions, flocked to 
 Bowling Green, where stood the statue of the King, and, 
 with shouts and jeers, pulled down the leaden effigy to 
 melt it into bullets for the "cause of independence." 
 
 Only a day or two later, toward evening, a great boom- 
 ing of cannon from the fleet down the bay brought every 
 
 154 
 
ABOUT NEW YORK 
 
 citizen to some point of vantage and every spy-glass in 
 the city was fixed upon the British vessels. A great 
 ship-of-the-Hne was seen standing grandly through the 
 Narrows and, as she passed, she was greeted by every 
 man-of-war with an admiral's salute. A flag flew at her 
 peak and those of the watchers who knew cried out: 
 "It's the admiral's ship; Lord Howe has come!" 
 
 Lord Richard, the admiral, who thus came to America 
 to take command of the combined British fleets, was the 
 brother of Sir William, the general, and these two were 
 now to co-operate in putting down the rebellion in the 
 colonies and in bringing them back to allegiance to the 
 King. The admiral tried very honestly at first to accom- 
 plish this by peaceful means — pardons, treaties, and the 
 like — but, of course, failed. Then his brother, the gen- 
 eral, turned to sterner measures. 
 
 Besides the army that he had brought with him from 
 Halifax, he had now been reinforced, in the month of 
 August, by the arrival of Clinton's and Cornwallis's 
 commands; by Commodore Hotham's fleet from England, 
 bringing twenty-six hundred British troops and eighty- 
 four hundred Hessians; and, lastly, by Sir Peter Parker's 
 discomfited squadron from Charleston, thus swelfing his 
 effectives to twenty-five thousand men. 
 
 He now determined to transport the bulk of this for- 
 midable army from Staten to Long Island and there at- 
 tack the Americans who were posted upon Brooklyn 
 Heights in a line of intrenchments extending from Go- 
 wanus Cove to Wallabout Bay where the Brooklyn Navy 
 
 155 
 
REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 
 
 Yard now is. On the summit of the intervening hills, 
 now Fort Greene Park, stood the main redoubt, then 
 called Fort Putnam but since renamed Fort Greene. 
 
 The British landed in admirable order in the Narrows 
 near Fort Hamilton and the Hessians were "transported 
 
 View from Old Fori Putnam (now Fort Greene), Brooklyn 
 
 to Gravesend Cove and made their landing with equal 
 skill." A long range of hills crosses Long Island, extend- 
 ing from the Narrows toward Jamaica — the hills of 
 Greenwood Cemetery, Prospect Park, Flatbush, and 
 Cypress Hills. They are cut by four passes and Howe 
 proceeded at once to threaten all four of them, sending 
 one column, his left, under General Grant, along the bay 
 to the vicinity of Gowanus Cove; de Heister with the 
 Hessians, his centre, to occupy the two passes at Flat- 
 
 156 
 
ABOUT NEW YORK 
 
 bush; and, at the last moment, Lord Percy, with the 
 right wing, shpped silently by night far around by what 
 is still known as the King's Highway, the road that 
 passes Flatlands and leads to the Cypress Hills, return- 
 ing behind them to take the American outposts in the 
 rear. 
 
 Unfortunately, the American commander in Brooklyn, 
 Nathanael Greene, who knew its defenses so well, was 
 stricken with a raging fever a day or two before the 
 battle, and Israel Putnam had been assigned to his place. 
 
 General Putnam's eyes seem to have been too intently 
 fixed upon the very evident advance of the British left 
 wing, so that when firing began in the direction of Go- 
 wanus Cove, before daylight on the 22d of August, he 
 instantly ordered Lord Stirling, a fine active officer, "to 
 stop the advance of the enemy" with two of the best 
 American regiments — Haslet's Delawares and Small- 
 wood's Marylanders. Stirling obeyed and by dawn was 
 in contact with Grant's advancing column. 
 
 General Sullivan, who was in command of three im- 
 portant American outposts at the Flatbush Pass — Battle 
 Pass, as the little valley in Prospect Park that I have 
 drawn has come to be called — also at daybreak found 
 the Hessians under de Heister in front of him, firing upon 
 his positions and threatening an attack in force. 
 
 The firing near Gowanus Cove and the boom of de 
 Heister's cannon were plainly audible in New York City, 
 and Washington, hearing these guns, realized that a gen- 
 eral action was on. He jumped into liis barge, crossed 
 
 157 
 
REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 
 
 the East River, and galloped to the Brooklyn works just 
 in time to witness the catastrophe that was there taking 
 place. 
 
 Sullivan had maintained his position well, when the 
 sudden thunder of Lord Percy's guns out on his left, on 
 the Jamaica Road, told him he was outflanked and in 
 serious danger of being cut off. He immediately ordered 
 a retreat, but it was already too late. For as he re- 
 tired he met, in his rear, the dragoons and light infantry 
 and, at the same time, the Hessians charged upon his 
 front. Caught thus between two fires, driven back and 
 forth from one enemy to the other, the Americans fought 
 gallantly and desperately. But numbers were against 
 Ihem. Some were trampled under the horses' hoofs; 
 others furiously bayoneted by the hated Hessians, until 
 the narrow pass became a terrible scene of slaughter. A 
 few stragglers managed to cut their way through and 
 escape, but nearly all were either killed or made prisoners ; 
 General Sullivan himself among the latter. 
 
 But this was not all; a worse disaster was impending. 
 Washington, from his position on the heights, could see 
 it coming, but was powerless to prevent it. 
 
 Stirling, who had been holding Grant's column in 
 check, now also heard firing in his rear. He, too, thought 
 he could retreat by fording Gowanus Creek, but upon 
 retiring toward it he fell into Cornwallis and his grena- 
 diers. No thought of surrender entered his head, how- 
 ever, and with his small army he boldly faced the enemy 
 on both fronts. A fierce and desperate battle ensued, 
 
 158 
 
1 ' 1 '\ 
 
 Battle Pass, Prospect Park, Broolclijn 
 
ABOUT NEW YORK 
 
 for the Marylanders were a game regiment, largely com- 
 posed of young men of the best famihes of their State. 
 Lord Stirhng animated them with voice and example 
 and they fought with such conspicuous gallantry and fire 
 that Washington, watching them from his hilltop, wrung 
 his hands in despair, exclaiming: "Good God! what 
 brave fellows I must this day lose," But at last, pushed 
 to desperation and seeing no hope of escape, Stirling sur- 
 rendered. 
 
 In view of this defeat, Washington now fully expected 
 that Howe would make an assault upon his main line of 
 intrenchments, but the British general decided other- 
 wise. Instead, he collected his men out of range of mus- 
 ket-shots and encamped for the night. It was an anxious 
 night for the Americans, for everything portended a de- 
 cisive battle on the morrow, and, in truth, when daylight 
 did come it revealed the British army close at hand. The 
 soldiers were already beginning to throw up intrench- 
 ments when a drenching rain drove them from their work. 
 
 Meanwhile reinforcements for the Americans had 
 come over from New York: Shee's and Magaw's Pemi- 
 sylvanians — fine, well-disciplined troops and well of- 
 ficered — and Colonel Glover's regiment of Marblehead 
 fishermen, stalwart, hardy, amphibious men, whom we 
 shall meet again on the banks of the Delaware. 
 
 On the morning of the 29th a dense fog overhung 
 Long Island. But a reconnoitring party that rode out to 
 Red Hook saw, through a rift, the British fleet busthng 
 with activity and they feared that the ships might be 
 
 161 
 
REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 
 
 planning to sail up the East River and thus completely 
 cut off the American army on the island. So they hast- 
 ened back to Washington and reported what they had 
 seen. A council of war was quickly convoked and it de- 
 cided that a retreat was imperative and must be effected 
 that very night. 
 
 Here, indeed, was a stupendous task — to ferry nine 
 thousand men with their artillery and baggage over the 
 East River, with its swirling tides and eddying currents, 
 and to do this with such secrecy and in such silence that 
 the enemy's pickets, only a quarter of a mile away, might 
 suspect nothing of iheir movements. 
 
 Washington hastily requisitioned every boat that could 
 be found and collected them on the Rrooklyn side of the 
 Fulton Ferry, placing them in charge of the men of Mar- 
 blehead. A strong northeaster had been blowing all 
 day accompanied by a heavy rain. The river was dark 
 and angry, with a strong tide running. The militia regi- 
 ments were first embarked but the wind was so high that 
 even the Marblehead fishermen could not spread a close- 
 reefed sail. So for three hours all boats were rowed with 
 muffled oars. 
 
 But at midnight, as if by act of Providence, the tide 
 turned, the wind dropped and veered to a gentle, favoring 
 breeze; the barges could be loaded to the gunwale and 
 their sails could be hoisted; and thus the retreat pro- 
 ceeded with celerity. General Mifflin, who, with the 
 best troops, had remained up in the trenches till the last, 
 now came down to the ferry with his covering party and 
 
 102 
 
ABOUT NEW YORK 
 
 embarked. Washington, who had watched all this time 
 at the point of embarkation, directing the movements of 
 the troops, then crossed the river in the very last boat. 
 
 Tliis retreat from Long Island remains one of the out- 
 standing events of the war, one of Washington's great 
 achievements, for by it he saved his army from inevitable 
 disaster, rescuing it from the grip of a foe quite double its 
 strength. 
 
 His stealthy departure was not discovered until dawn 
 when, warned by reports, " Captain Montressor, aide-de- 
 camp of General Howe, followed by a handful of men, 
 climbed cautiously over the crest of the works and found 
 them deserted." Howe's prey had escaped. 
 
 After the retreat from Long Island the army in New 
 York was reorganized, but the Americans could scarcely 
 hope to successfully defend both sides of Manliattan 
 Island, whose long water-front was so exposed to attack. 
 During the first days of September the British advanced 
 up the Long Island side of the East River and threw out- 
 posts as far as Flushing. Their frigates succeeded in 
 passing Governor's Island and ascended the East River 
 to Newtown Inlet; so that the whole east shore of Man- 
 hattan was threatened. 
 
 Under this menace the Americans decided to evacuate 
 the city, and, two weeks after the battle of Long Island, 
 Washington began to remove the artillery and military 
 stores to New Jersey. He was given little time to ac- 
 complish his purpose, however, for three British frigates 
 ascended the Hudson and anchored near Bloomingdale. 
 
 163 
 
REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 
 
 On Saturday, the 14th of September, the bulk of the 
 army marched out of the city and up to Harlem, leaving 
 only General Putnam with about four thousand men to 
 cover their retreat. The very next morning a heavy 
 cannonading was heard in the East River. Many barges 
 were seen to put out from Newtown Inlet and crossed, 
 approximately at the East 34th Street Ferry to Kipp's 
 Bay, under cover of the frigates, the "open flatboats 
 filled with soldiers standing erect; their arms aU ghttering 
 in the sunbeams." 
 
 Some mihtia was there to oppose their landing, but 
 they broke and ran at the first sight of the redcoats, as 
 Washington himself thus describes: 
 
 "At the first sound of firing, I rode with all possible 
 dispatch towards the place of landing, when to my sur- 
 prise and mortification, I found the troops that had been 
 posted in the lines, retreating with the utmost precipita- 
 tion. ... I used every means in my power to rally 
 and get them in order, but my attempts were fruitless 
 and ineffectual, and on the appearance of a small party 
 of the enemy, not more than sixty or seventy in number, 
 their disorder increased, and they ran away without firing 
 a shot." 
 
 This was one of the rare occasions upon which Wash- 
 ington lost his temper, and his rage at the cowardly militia 
 was unbridled as he exclaimed: "Are these the men with 
 whom I am to defend America.^" 
 
 The British then marched unopposed across the island 
 as far as the Inclenberg or Murray Hill and took up their 
 
 164 
 
ABOUT NEW YORK 
 
 position upon the high ground that rises just above 34th 
 Street, extending from Lexington to Sixth Avenues. 
 
 General Howe, with some of his officers, stopped for 
 refreshments at the house of Robert Murray, a wealthy 
 Quaker, whose residence gave its name to the hill. He 
 happened to be away, but his wife set cakes and wine 
 before the sybaritic British general and phed him so as- 
 siduously with good things that he remained quite a time 
 in the house. This delay gave Putnam and his rear- 
 guard the needed opportunity to hasten forward and 
 join the army up in Harlem. So it was generally as- 
 serted that Mrs. Murray saved Putnam's division of the 
 army. 
 
 Washington now took up his quarters in the house of 
 Colonel Roger Morris, that still stands on Washington 
 Heights and is now 
 
 the 
 
 better known as 
 Juniel Mansion. 
 
 Despite the fact that 
 its surroundings are 
 now disfigured by a 
 great apartment-house, 
 a huge water-tank, and 
 several acres of car 
 yards, its situation is 
 still quite wonderful. 
 As I sat with its genial 
 and erudite curator on 
 the httle porch under 
 
 The Jumti Mansion 
 165 
 
REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 
 
 the big white portico, watching the cloud shadows play over 
 the hills, I thought of the anxious hours that Washington 
 must have passed up here, scanning the heights across 
 the Harlem River for scout ing-parties or watching the 
 hills to the south where Earl Percy's troops lay encamped. 
 
 The handsome house is now maintained under the aus- 
 pices of the Daughters of the American Revolution, and 
 in its rooms is displayed a notable collection of Revolu- 
 tionary relics of all descriptions: portraits, souvenirs, 
 uniforms, arms and ammunition, besides furniture and 
 old prints. There are, too, some of those curious andirons 
 of Hessian soldiers, that were so popular, for the patriots 
 loved to sit and toast their toes while they spat at the 
 hated mercenaries who sizzled in reply. 
 
 Washington's council-chamber, as it is called, juts out 
 at the back of the hall — a great drawing-room having 
 windows on three sides and a fine chimneypiece at its 
 far end. In the hall itself hangs Ercole's large portrait of 
 Madame Jumel, now restored to its original position after 
 many years of absence. But her story, fascinating as it 
 is, does not belong to our quest, so we shall turn from 
 thoughts of her to a rare old map that hangs in one of the 
 rooms — a map of the "North Part of New York Island, 
 exhibiting the Plan of Fort Washington, now Fort Knyp- 
 hausen, with the rebel lines to the Southward which were 
 forced by the troops under the command of Rt. Hon^'" 
 Earl Percy on the 16th of Nov^, 1776." 
 
 The territory embraced in this map is the scene of our 
 next field of operations, for I do not mean to burden the 
 
 166 
 
ABOUT NEW YORK 
 
 reader with the minor battles that intervened between the 
 evacuation of New York City and the capture of Fort 
 Washington. The encouraging encounter on Harlem 
 Heights; the engagements along the shore of the Sound; 
 the battles at Chatterton Hill and White Plains were 
 among these, but they ended with no material advantage 
 to either side. Besides, little or no vestige of them remains 
 in the now flourishing suburban towns of New Rochelle, 
 White Plains, Mamaroneck, and Tuckahoe. 
 
 The last engagement took place at White Plains, and, 
 after it, to obviate a more decisive battle, Washington re- 
 tired to North Castle Heights about five miles above his 
 last position. A day or two later Howe, to his surprise, 
 turned about and left him. 
 
 "Yesterday morning the enemy made a sudden and 
 unexpected movement from the several posts they had 
 taken in our front. They broke up their whole encamp- 
 ments the preceding night and have advanced toward 
 King's Bridge and the North River. The design of this 
 manoeuvre is a matter of much conjecture and specula- 
 tion and cannot be accounted for with any degree of 
 certainty. ... I think it highly probable and almost 
 certain that he (Howe) will make a descent with a part 
 of his troops into Jersey, and as soon as I am satisfied that 
 the present manoeuvre is real, and not a feint, I shall 
 use every means in my power to forward a part of our 
 forces to counteract his design. I expect the enemy will 
 bend their force against Fort Washington and invest it 
 immediately. From some advices, it is an object that 
 wiU attract their earliest attention." * 
 
 * Washington, in a letter to Congress. 
 167 
 
REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 
 
 Washington was right. The enemy did "bend their 
 force against Fort Washington" and prepare to attack it. 
 
 The north end of Manhattan Island is a narrow strip 
 of land, high, rocky, and precipitous in places. The Hud- 
 son River skirts it to the west; the Harlem River to the 
 east; while its north end is separated from the mainland 
 by the narrow but swirling rapids of Spuyten Duyvil 
 Creek. At the time of the Revolution but one tie to the 
 mainland existed — King's Rridge, in the locality that 
 still retains that name. 
 
 The Americans had perfected quite an elaborate system 
 of fortifications in this vicinity. On the height north of 
 King's Rridge stood Fort Independence, supported by a 
 number of redoubts designated by numerals. LTpon 
 Manhattan Island itself Cock Hill Fort commanded the 
 mouth of Spuyten Duyvil Creek, and on the heights 
 above it were Fort George and Fort Tryon. Still south 
 of these the ground again rises, culminating at 183d 
 Street in a bluff that overlooks both the Hudson and 
 Harlem Rivers. Here, prior to the battle of Long Island, 
 the Pennsylvania troops had built "a strong work, in- 
 tended as a kind of citadel," which they named Fort 
 Washington in honor of the commander-in-chief. 
 
 Major Graydon, who was captured with it, thus de- 
 scribes it in his "Memoirs": 
 
 "There were no l)arracks, or casemates, or fuel or 
 water within the body of the place. It was an open con- 
 struction, with ground at a short distance on the back 
 of it equally high, if not higher; without a ditch of any 
 
 168 
 
ABOUT NEW YORK 
 
 consequence, if there was a ditch at all; no outworks but 
 an incipient one on the north not deserving the appella- 
 tion, or any of those exterior multiplied obstacles and de- 
 fenses that, so far as I can judge, could entitle it to the 
 name of fortress in any degree capable of sustaining a 
 siege. It required no parallels to approach it; the citadel 
 was at once within reach of assailants." 
 
 About a mile to the south of it an inner line of in- 
 trenchments stretched across the island at 162d Street, 
 just including the Morris Mansion, Washington's head- 
 quarters, within it. At 155th Street was a second line 
 of intrenchments and at 145th Street an outer or first 
 line, with batteries and outposts as far south as 128th 
 Street, where the American defenses ended. 
 
 This part of the city should be of especial interest to 
 New Yorkers, for upon it was fought the only battle in 
 the city's history. Yet how many of its citizens, I wonder, 
 have ever knowingly visited the site of Fort Washington ? 
 
 Leaving Broadway at 181st Street, the nearest that is 
 cut through, you chmb quite a hill as you walk toward 
 the river. Soon you reach Fort Washington Road, a 
 broad avenue that leads to the north, and at the top of 
 the hill you will find a monument, whose bronze tablet 
 is thus inscribed: 
 
 This Memorial Marks the Site of 
 
 Fort Washington 
 
 Constructed by the Continental Troops 
 
 in the Summer of 1776. 
 
 Erected through the generosity of James Gordon Bennett 
 
 by the Empire State Society, Sons of the American Revolution, 
 
 1901. 
 
 1G9 
 
REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 
 
 From this memorial you gain an excellent idea of the 
 terrain that the fortress commanded. The vicinity is 
 not built over, but remains quite green and open, and its 
 grassy slopes afford rendezvous for the mothers of the 
 neighborhood and playgrounds for their children. To the 
 east the land falls away abruptly to Broadway that hes 
 far below you; to the north you overlook the slopes that 
 bore Fort George and Fort Try on; to the south lay the 
 triple lines of the American defenses; while to the west- 
 ward the precipitous bluffs overlook the Hudson. 
 
 Fort Washington, with Fort Lee opposite upon the 
 Palisades, were supposed to command this North River, 
 but, despite their cannon and the chevaux-de-frise that 
 connected them, British ships could and did pass. This 
 being the case, Washington was in favor of abandoning 
 Fort Washington altogether, but his good judgment was 
 overruled by some of his generals. 
 
 When Howe had turned his back on him at White 
 Plains, Washington had marched his army to Tarrytown, 
 crossed to the Jersey shore, and encamped near Hacken- 
 sack, keeping in close touch, however, with the garrison 
 he had left in Fort Washington under Colonel Magaw. 
 
 Howe now prepared to storm this last fortress remain- 
 ing in American hands on the New York side of the Hud- 
 son, The Hessians, under Knyphausen, came down to 
 Spuyten Duyvil and were ferried across to the lowlands 
 northeast of Fort Washington. They were seen as day 
 broke and cannonaded, but, splitting into two columns, 
 they began to advance, Knyphausen leading the main 
 
 170 
 
ABOUT NEW YORK 
 
 body by the present Kingsbridge Road, while Rail (of 
 whom we shall see more at Trenton) directed his troops 
 
 r.K»i^ ■ -'^ 
 
 
 
 Site of Fort Washington, Looking toward Fort Lee 
 
 against Fort Tryon, fighting, according to Cornwallis, 
 "to the admiration of the entire British army." His 
 soldiers were worthily matched, however, by the Mary- 
 landers, who held them at bay for several hours until 
 
 171 
 
REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 
 
 "at length they were obhged to submit to a superiority 
 of numbers and retire under the cannon of the fort." 
 
 Meanwliile Lord Percy had been attacking the intrench- 
 ments to the south of the fort and Colonel Cadwalader, 
 who commanded there, had been obliged to withdraw his 
 men to the third or innermost hne. Then the British 
 succeeded in crossing the Harlem River at two points 
 and took Cadwalader in the rear. He ordered a retreat, 
 and his men, in much confusion, finally reached the fort. 
 But there all was in disorder, the entire garrison being 
 now crowded into a space intended for only one thousand 
 men. A flag was sent in with a summons to surrender, 
 and Colonel Magaw, completely surrounded and feel- 
 ing further resistance futile, gave up the fort. 
 
 Thus fell Fort Washington, whose loss was one of the 
 severest blows sustained by the patriots during the en- 
 tire war. More than two thousand men, besides forty- 
 three cannon and a large quantity of military stores, fell 
 into the hands of the British. Greene, who had advised 
 defending the fort, felt "mad, vexed, sick and sorry," and 
 Washington wrote to Congress: 
 
 "The loss of such a number of officers and men, many 
 of whom have been trained with more than usual atten- 
 tion, will, I fear, be severely felt; but when that of the 
 arms and accoutrements is added, much more so; and 
 must be a further incentive to procure as considerable a 
 supply as possible for the new troops, as soon as it can be 
 done." 
 
 172 
 
IN THE JERSEYS 
 
IN THE JERSEYS 
 
 TRENTON 
 
 A FTER the loss of Fort Washington, and Washing- 
 /jk ton's retirement to the west bank of the Hudson, 
 I^ m. Cornwalhs assumed command of the troops 
 that were to pursue him and operate against him in New 
 Jersey. So now we shall follow the two armies into that 
 State. 
 
 General Greene was in command of Fort Lee, situ- 
 ated on the Palisades almost opposite Fort Washington 
 and about where the Fort Lee Ferry still perpetuates its 
 name. During the night of the 18th of November, 1776, 
 five thousand British troops marched up the Hudson, 
 crossed unseen, near Yonkers, and succeeded in dragging 
 their cannon up the PaUsades. Greene had expected no 
 attack from that quarter and had placed no guard in that 
 direction. So that he was taken completely by surprise 
 and obhged to evacuate the fort in the greatest haste, 
 saving his garrison but leaving most of his baggage and 
 artillery behind him. Thus blow after blow fell upon the 
 patriots. 
 
 Washington, " with the wretched remains of a broken 
 army," succeeded in covering Greene's retreat, but then 
 
 175 
 
REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 
 
 fell back across the Hackensack. The prospects were 
 indeed gloomy and the British officers were writing home : 
 "Lord Cornwallis is carrying all before him in the Jer- 
 seys; peace must soon be the consequence." 
 
 Too weak to stand and fight, Washington continued to 
 retreat from point to point. His rear left Newark as the 
 British advance entered it; he gained New Brunswick on 
 the 28th, but on the 1st of December was obliged to move 
 on, destroying the Raritan bridge behind him. Then, 
 with a scant three thousand men, he fell back to Prince- 
 ton and thence to Trenton. 
 
 He had ordered General Charles Lee (who was in the 
 Highlands) to join him at all costs, but that officer, am- 
 bitious, jealous, and anxious for the chief command him- 
 self, would not co-operate, and claiming to be a "general 
 detached to make an important diversion," led his troops 
 off on his own account. On the 12th of December his 
 forces hung upon the British flank at Vealtown — now 
 fashionable Bernardsville (and I do not wonder that 
 they changed the name) — and he himself was spending 
 the night near by at Basking Ridge, Next morning, after 
 a late breakfast, he had just finished a letter beginning, 
 "My dear Gates — Entre nous, a certain great man is 
 damnably deficient," when a party of British cavalry 
 surrounded the house and summoned him to surrender. 
 Within two minutes he came out, pale, unarmed, bare- 
 headed, and begged the dragoons to spare his life. They 
 seized him, and four minutes later hustled him off a 
 prisoner. 
 
 176 
 
IN THE JERSEYS 
 
 The patriots' only hope now centred in Washington, 
 and that hope was a forlorn one indeed. His retreat to 
 Trenton had covered a period of eighteen days, he hoping 
 that winter, with its snows and impassable roads, would 
 soon prove his ally and definitely impede his enemy. 
 
 But at Trenton, where he faced about with the Dela- 
 ware behind him, he found that General Howe had joined 
 Cornwallis with a new brigade. Before this strengthened 
 foe he was forced to retreat again, beyond the river. 
 This he accomplished just as the British arrived to see the 
 last man over and to reahze that he had secured every 
 boat for seventy miles up and down the river. 
 
 But now only the waters of the Delaware lay between 
 the British army and Philadelphia, where Congress was 
 holding its sessions. So imminent did the danger seem 
 that that body decided to adjourn to Baltimore; which it 
 did. Howe, elated, returned to New York, and Corn- 
 wallis, also sure of success, prepared to embark for Eng- 
 land to announce that the rebelHon had been put down. 
 
 He left General Count von Donop in command of the 
 Hne along the Delaware, with headquarters at Borden- 
 town. The country soon felt the curse of his Hessian 
 troops. These had been promised an opportunity to 
 plunder and now they took it. I have before me a 
 "Brief Narrative of the Ravages" about Princeton and 
 Trenton — a long and pitiful tale of what we should now 
 call "atrocities" — a first-hand document, to which I shall 
 have occasion to refer again. 
 
 Von Donop gave to Colonel Rail (or Rahl, according to 
 
 177 
 
REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 
 
 the original German spelling) the command of the Hes- 
 sians at Trenton. For twelve days this officer domineered 
 the town, parading his troops through the streets with 
 music, and spending his evenings drinking the best wines 
 at the house of Abraham Hunt, at the corner of State 
 and Warren Streets. When told that Washington might 
 attack him, he cried, "Let them come; we will at them 
 with the bayonet," believing, as did every one, that the 
 broad Delaware with its floating ice was an insuperable 
 barrier between them. 
 
 His troops were comfortably lodged in the town, for 
 the most part in the two main streets — King and Queen, 
 now Warren and Broad. His own grenadiers had their 
 quarters in the jail, now a part of the Trenton Bank, 
 and at the Blazing Star and Bull Head Taverns ad- 
 joining; the regiment von Lossberg, with some of the 
 artillery, occupied the Enghsh church, now enlarged 
 and modernized and called St. Michael's; while the von 
 Knyphausen regiment occupied the Presbyterian church 
 and the houses surrounding it. The yagers and Tories 
 were down in the old barracks that we shall visit pres- 
 ently, and the British dragoons were quartered in the 
 Quaker Meeting House, a quaint, gabled structure, still 
 standing in Hanover Street. Thus, well housed and 
 well fed, the Hessians went on with their preparations 
 for a jolly German Christmas. 
 
 How different the picture across the river ! 
 
 The winter began with bitter cold and the ragged 
 Continentals were sleeping on the hillsides by the Dela- 
 
 178 
 
IN THE JERSEYS 
 
 ware, without even a blanket to keep them warm. Des- 
 titute of every comfort and even of the barest necessities, 
 without shelter of any kind, they lay upon the frosty 
 ground. But, hungry and cold, like Spartan heroes their 
 spirits were equal to the test. 
 
 The Point at Which Washington Crossed the Delaware River 
 
 These slopes by the Delaware have not changed much 
 since then. In a few minutes you may go by train from 
 Trenton out to Washington's Crossing, as the station is 
 now called. A couple of modest inns stand by the river 
 which is spanned by a bridge, whose wooden superstruc- 
 ture, since I drew it, has been replaced by one of iron. 
 A long, narrow island divides the stream above it, and 
 between this and the bridge was McKonkey's Ferry— 
 the scene of W asliington's Crossing of the Delaware. 
 
 179 
 
REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 
 
 On the New Jersey side of the river you will find a 
 simple tablet bearing this inscription: 
 
 This Tablet 
 
 is erected by the Society of the Cincinnati 
 
 in the State of New Jersey, 
 
 to commemorate the Crossing of the Delaware River by 
 
 General Washington and the Continental Army 
 
 on Christmas night of 
 
 Seventeen Hundred and Seventy Six. 
 
 On the opposite bank, the Pennsylvania shore, where 
 the little village of Taylorsville sleeps under the trees, 
 you will find a companion memorial: 
 
 Near this spot 
 
 WASHINGTON 
 
 Crossed the Delaware 
 
 on Christmas Night, 1776, 
 
 The eve of the Rattle of Trenton. 
 
 Upon the dedication of these two monuments in 1895, 
 General William S. Stryker delivered the principal ad- 
 dress, a copy of which he gave me when I met him some 
 years ago in Trenton — an impressive personality and a 
 striking face, attorney-general of the State, an ardent 
 patriot, and the efficient president of the Trenton Rattle 
 Monument Association. I cannot do better, I feel, than 
 quote from his oration, the scene preceding that Christ- 
 mas eve of 1776: 
 
 "The night shadows were creeping over the woods on 
 Jericho Hill and the road from Neeley's mill to Newtown.* 
 
 * Beyond Taylorsville, on the west bank of the Delaware. 
 180 
 
IN THE JERSEYS 
 
 In the doorway of Samuel Merrick's house on that well- 
 traveled road stood a general officer of Washington's 
 army, Hstening to the distant ring of horses' hoofs on 
 the frozen ground. A moment later, General Greene's 
 expected guests drew rein before him and he saluted his 
 commander-in-chief. General Washington was attended 
 by an aide-de-camp, the gallant Colonel Baylor, and six 
 Philadelphia troopers as a body guard. He had ridden 
 over to be present on this Christmas eve at a council of 
 war to which he had called his leading commanders. A 
 few moments after the arrival of Washington and his 
 guard, a little group of officers was seen dismounting in 
 the dooryard of the old stone house, and the courtly 
 Stirhng, the best-dressed man in the army ; the brave and 
 determined New Hampshire General Sullivan and the 
 foreign adventurer, de Fermoy, * were welcomed from the 
 doorstep by General Greene. Then, at short intervals, 
 came the experienced soldier, St. Clair, t and the equally 
 skilled Stephen; the devoted Virginian, Mercer; | Colonel 
 Sargent of Massachusetts, and the sturdy mariner. 
 Glover.** 
 
 "After preparing supper for General Greene and his 
 compatriots, the Merrick family left the house to the ex- 
 clusive use of the council. The meal had just been an- 
 nounced, when Colonel Stark, ft tall and straight as an 
 Indian, and Colonel Knox, the artillerist, were admitted. 
 The Reverend Doctor Alexander McWhorter, of Newark, 
 pronounced grace at the supper of this important gather- 
 ing of American military heroes. . . . 
 
 * Later, commander of Fort Independence, Ticonderoga. 
 
 t Whom we met at Ticonderoga. 
 
 X Killed soon after at Princeton. 
 
 ** Commander of the men of Marblehead. 
 
 tt The hero of Bennington. 
 
 181 
 
REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 
 
 "The Commander-in-Chief laid before them his fully 
 matured plan, so ingenious and yet so simple that all 
 who read can grasp its military subtlety. To make the 
 perilous crossing of the icy Delaware during the hours of 
 darkness; to creep on the unwary Hessian foe in Tren- 
 ton when Christmas wines and Christmas revelry had re- 
 laxed their customary vigilance and made a dull watch; 
 to throw them into helpless confusion by the suddenness 
 of the attack, and by striking from three sides at once — 
 this was the plan of action upon which Washington had 
 decided as a bold stroke to retrieve his count i"y's fallen 
 fortunes." 
 
 "Christmas day, at night, one hour before day," was 
 the time set for the attack on Trenton. 
 
 Early Christmas morning Washington issued his or- 
 ders for the march. Every detail had been carefully 
 studied; and death was the penalty for quitting the ranks. 
 The troops destined for the attack were paraded on the 
 hill back of McKonkey's Ferry during the afternoon, and 
 then moved toward the river. At dusk Washington and 
 his staff arrived, and Colonel Knox, "with his stentorian 
 voice," repeated the commands, which could be heard 
 above the wind and the crunching of the ice. 
 
 "When the boats were shoved off from the Pennsyl- 
 vania shore and had reached the swift current, the jagged 
 cakes of ice struck them repeatedly and severely, and it 
 was with the greatest difficulty that they could be properly 
 handled. The wind was high, and at eleven o'clock the 
 air was filled with blinding snow. Then again, as once 
 before, over the East River after the battle of Long Is- 
 
 18-2 
 
IN THE JERSEYS 
 
 land, and as he had promised at the council of war, Colonel 
 John Glover and his magnificent Marblehead Regiment 
 of sea-faring men did inestimable service in guiding the 
 army over the dark and angry river." 
 
 It had been hoped that the crossing would be com- 
 pleted by midnight. But, as the Reverend Doctor Coo- 
 ley tells us in a connnunication to the "State Gazette": 
 
 "It was between 3 and 4 o'clock in the morning before 
 all the artiUery and troops were over and ready to march. 
 Many of the men were very destitute as regarded cloth- 
 ing. The present Mr. George Muirhead, of Hopewell, 
 informed the writer that he had noticed men whose pan- 
 taloons were ragged and who had neither stockings nor 
 shoes. The ground was covered with sleet, and snow 
 was falling, although the day before there was no snow or 
 only a little sprinkling on the ground. General Washing- 
 ton (who had sat in silence on a bee-hive, wrapt in his 
 cloak, while his troops were crossing) as they were about 
 to march, enjoined upon all profound silence during their 
 march to Trenton and said to them '/ hope you will all 
 fight like men.'"" 
 
 Then the ragged but glorious Continentals started on 
 their nine-mile march. Their password was "\ictory or 
 death." In the black night, against a biting northeaster, 
 they struggled up to the Bear Tavern, thence by the Old 
 River Road, through the hickory woods to Birmingham, 
 where they made a hasty breakfast. When told that the 
 priming powder in the flint-locks was becoming damp, 
 General Sullivan replied laconically: "Well, boys, we 
 must fight thein with the bayonet." 
 
 183 
 
REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 
 
 In Trenton the Hessians had retired heavy with their 
 Christmas revels. They maintained six outposts: one on 
 the Pennington Road; one on the Brunswick Road; two 
 on the River Road; and two on the bridges down by As- 
 sanpink Creek. 
 
 Map of Operations around Trenton and Princeion 
 
 At Birmingham Washington spht his army in two di- 
 visions. One, under General Sullivan, was to follow the 
 River Road ; the other, under General Greene, to go by the 
 Pennington Road, Washington himself accompanying the 
 latter. This column was the first to come in contact with 
 the Hessian pickets, who shouted, "Der Feind — Heraus ! 
 Heraus!" and fell back to spread the alarm. Three 
 
 184 
 
IN THE JERSEYS 
 
 minutes later Sullivan's column struck the yager picket 
 on the River Road and the Americans pushed into the 
 town from both directions. 
 
 Rail's grenadiers came tumbling out of their quarters 
 into King Street, while the von Lossberg regiment formed 
 in the graveyard, still quaint and secluded, in the rear of 
 the Enghsh church. Colonel Rail, when he heard all 
 this commotion, threw up his window, opposite the Eng- 
 lish church, and, though still muddled with his wine, 
 hurriedly dressed and, like the brave soldier that he was, 
 threw himself upon his horse, galloped to the head of 
 his regiment, and "started them on a run up King Street." 
 
 Meanwliile Washington had taken up his position on 
 the high ground just back of where the monument now 
 stands, from which point of vantage he could command a 
 view of everything that was going on in the low-built 
 village of that day. From this same point Captain 
 Alexander Hamilton opened fire with his battery down 
 King Street, while Captain Thomas Forrest trained his 
 guns down Queen Street. 
 
 "Captain William Washington* and Lieutenant James 
 Monroe, t perceiving that the enemy were endeavoring to 
 form a battery in King Street, near where the feeder 
 crosses the street, rushed forward with the advance 
 guard, drove the artillerists from their guns and took 
 from them two pieces which they were in the act of fir- 
 ing. These officers were both wounded in this success- 
 ful enterprise." J 
 
 * The hero of the Cowpens. 
 
 t Afterward President of the United States. 
 
 j Reverend Doctor Cooley, in the " State Gazette." 
 
 185 
 
REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 
 
 Rail's regiment was pushed back upon the von Loss- 
 berg regiment. At each turn they met fresh Continentals. 
 While Captain Forrest's guns created havoc among them, 
 Mercer's brigade charged gallantly down Queen Street 
 upon their broken ranks. Rrave Rail, whom his superiors 
 called the "Hessian Lion," seeing every avenue of escape 
 being cut off, rose in his stirrups and shouted: "All who 
 are my grenadiers, forward!" Just then he was struck 
 by a bullet and fell from his horse in Queen Street, while 
 the Continentals pushed his two disorganized regiments 
 into an apple orchard that lay near the Friends' Meeting 
 House, where, realizing that they were now surrounded 
 by greatly superior numbers, they lowered their standards 
 and grounded their guns, while the officers put their hats 
 on the points of their swords. 
 
 General Stirhng rode forward and Lieutenant- Colonel 
 SchefTer, then senior officer of the Hessian troops, sur- 
 rendered his sword and his command to him. Some of 
 the Hessians and most of the British dragoons escaped 
 over the Assanpink Creek; others were able to join von 
 Donop as he retreated from Bordentown, and a few more 
 reached General Leslie at Princeton, but nearly a thou- 
 sand men remained prisoners of war, while six brass can- 
 non and fifteen colors were also taken. 
 
 As one of his aide-de-camps rode up to him, Washing- 
 ton exclaimed exultantly: "This is a glorious day for our 
 country. Major Wilkinson!" As indeed it was! 
 
 Later, "supported by a file of sergeants, Rail presented 
 his sword to General Washington" and was taken to his 
 
 186 
 
IN THE JERSEYS 
 
 headquarters (Stacy Potts), where he died of his wounds. 
 He was buried, with a number of his Hessians, in the old 
 Presbyterian churchyard on State Street, their graves 
 being now covered by a portion of the new edifice. 
 
 Some of Trenton's Revolutionary landmarks have dis- 
 appeared, others have been remodelled, but enough re- 
 main to distinguish the historic spots. To visit them 
 you should begin down by the Delaware River, where, in 
 the shadow of the gilded dome of the State House, stand 
 the old barracks, to which I have alluded, and in which 
 the yagers were quartered. Built in 1758, they are now 
 being restored to their original condition and already con- 
 tain an interesting little museum, due to the zeal of the 
 Old Barracks Association, a group of patriotic women of 
 the community. 
 
 You then walk over to Warren Street, and down to the 
 Assanpink, which, though hemmed in by factories and 
 mills, can still be seen — a brownish, busy strcEim, hasten- 
 ing to join the Delaware. Beyond it the highway, bor- 
 dered by old houses, leads off toward Bordentown, where 
 von Donop lay. 
 
 Now you follow up Warren Street (then King) toward 
 the great monument that stands at its head. At the 
 corner of State (then Second) Street stood the house of 
 Abraham Hunt, where Rail spent most of his Christmas 
 night drinking the rich merchant's good wine; and beyond, 
 opposite Perry, where St. Mary's Cathedral now stands, 
 were his headquarters, with the guard-house across the 
 way. 
 
 187 
 
REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 
 
 At the end of Warren Street you reach the monument, 
 placed where the American artillery stood to command 
 both King and Queen Streets which here diverge. Be- 
 yond, to your left, stretches the Pennington Road, down 
 which Washington came — then a country road but now 
 a wide, paved street. 
 
 Upon the high ground where the conmiander-in-chief 
 stood to direct his attack the tall granite column of the 
 monument rises, surmounted by his figure in bronze, 
 dressed as Trumbull painted him, one arm outstretched, 
 pointing down King Street, directing the fire of Alex- 
 ander Hamilton's battery; the other hand holding his 
 field-glass. At the east side of the doorway in the base 
 
 
 
 
 Old King Street {now Warren Street), Trenton 
 
 188 
 
IN THE JERSEYS 
 
 of the monument, liis legs wide apart, stands a trooper 
 of the Phihidelphia Light Horse in his picturesque uni- 
 form, feehng the edge of liis sword. At the west side a 
 Continental soldier, a member of Colonel Glover's regi- 
 ment, one of those "fishermen of Marblehead," to quote 
 General Knox in his speech to the Massachusetts legisla- 
 ture, "alike at home upon land and water; alike ardent, 
 patriotic, and unflinching whenever they unfurled the flag 
 of their country" — the men who ferried the army over the 
 icy Delaware. 
 
 Then, if you descend Queen Street, now Broad, you 
 can picture, among the constructions still standing, the 
 house before which Hall was mortally wounded as he 
 tried to rally his men. Turning down Hanover Street, 
 you come upon the old Quaker Meeting House, above 
 mentioned, with its tablet: 
 
 The 
 
 Meeting House 
 
 was occupied by the 
 
 British 
 
 Light Dragoons 
 
 December, 1776. 
 
 Then, by crossing into State Street, you reach the Pres- 
 byterian church, in whose graveyard Rail and his Hes- 
 sians lie buried. 
 
 And so our little Trenton pilgrimage is finished. We 
 have seen all that, is left to evoke that Christmas day of 
 1776 tliat meant so nuich to tlie patriots, turning for them 
 the gloom of night into the bright hues of dawn — the day 
 
 189 
 
REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 
 
 that wrung from Lord George Germaine, the British 
 colonial minister, his bitter sentence, "All our hopes were 
 blasted by the unhappy affair at Trenton" — the day that 
 brought from the distinguished Italian historian, Carlo 
 Botta, this eulogy: "All nations shared in the surprise of 
 the Americans. All equally admired and applauded the 
 prudence, the constancy, and noble intrepidity of General 
 Washington. An unanimous voice proclaimed him the 
 savior of his country; all extolled him as equal to the 
 most celebrated commanders of antiquity. His name 
 was in the mouth of all. All proclaimed him the Fabius 
 of America." 
 
 190 
 
II 
 
 PRINCETON 
 
 AFTER this signal success at Trenton, so in- 
 /% spiriting to the Americans, Washington led his 
 ^ ^ little army triumphantly back, with their thou- 
 sand prisoners and captured standards, to Newtown — a 
 hard march indeed for the already wearied patriots, but 
 their spirits were now buoyed up by the knowledge of 
 work well done. After a few days' rest the commander- 
 in-chief was back in Trenton, and by the first of the year 
 was encamped upon the hills along the south side of the 
 Assanpink beyond the bridge. 
 
 At the news from Trenton CornwalHs had cancelled 
 his sailing for England, and by Howe's orders now re- 
 turned to New Jersey with all speed to crush Washing- 
 ton. He took with him more than seven thousand of 
 his best troops, he himself leading the advance. The 
 situation again grew critical. Washington would not and 
 could not retreat, for thus all the moral effect gained by 
 his victory at Trenton would have been nullified. So he 
 quietly awaited his enemy's coming. 
 
 As CornwaUis advanced down the old turnpike from 
 Princeton (the road the trolley now follows) he was met 
 at Five Mile Creek, near Maidenhead (now charming 
 Lawrenceville, with its pretty homes and verdant golf- 
 
 191 
 
REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 
 
 links) by the fire of Colonel Hand's riflemen. When he 
 reached Shebakunk Creek he had to bring up some can- 
 non, so stifT was the resistance put up by Greene, who had 
 advanced thus far and who was able to hold him in check 
 
 r^M"" 
 
 
 
 
 ^f'' 
 
 
 ><^K.'^^i-^^^ 
 
 X 
 
 -^''^ii 
 
 The Old Quaker Meeihig House, near Princefon 
 
 just long enough to prevent him from attacking the main 
 army that afternoon. 
 
 When Cornwalhs found tliis out, he consoled hiinself 
 by saying: "Never mind; I've got the old fox where I 
 want him; I'll catch him in the morning." 
 
 That night set in cold and the wet ground froze so that 
 the roads were good and hard. Washington had thought 
 out his plan — a plan by which he might avoid a battle 
 with superior numbers and yet not lose prestige by a re- 
 treat. His scouts had informed him that the British had 
 
 192 
 
IN THE JERSEYS 
 
 no pickets on the Old Quaker Road that leads from Tren- 
 ton to Princeton via Sandtown. So he determined to 
 take that road, pass round his enemy, cut off liis lines of 
 communication, and, if possible, make a dash for the 
 vast stores he had accumulated at Rrunswick. A coun- 
 cil of war heartily approved this audacious plan. 
 
 The camp-fires burned brightly; the sentries made their 
 accustomed rounds so vigilantly that they completely 
 deceived the British pickets only half a mile away. So 
 the surprise and dismay of Cornwallis was complete when 
 daybreak revealed an empty camp before liim, his ex- 
 pected prey escaped, and heavy firing in his rear to tell 
 him he had been outgeneralled. 
 
 For, as early as sunrise, the Americans were entering 
 Princeton. They had advanced to the Stony Brook, had 
 crossed it over the bridge that preceded the one that I 
 have drawn, and had halted near an old Quaker Meeting 
 
 Stony Brook Bridge, near Princeton 
 
 193 
 
 Stony 13rook 
 
 40 Miles to Phil ■ 
 ji' Miles to N.York. 
 
REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 
 
 House, built of field-stone, that still stands in a secluded 
 nook down by the little river. Here Washington re- 
 formed his column, sending General Mercer with about 
 five hundred men to destroy the bridge on the main turn- 
 pike, and thus impede Cornwallis's return. 
 
 This detachment quickly came in contact with two 
 regiments of British that were just setting out to join 
 CornwalHs. Mutually surprised, both forces played for 
 position on some high ground centring round the farms of 
 two brothers, William and Thomas Clark. 
 
 In the Hbrary of the University of Princeton I was 
 shown a curious account of the battle that followed — a 
 worn, frayed manuscript, stained with brown spots and 
 broken into holes where it had been folded, and found 
 among General Stryker's papers. The narrator's iden- 
 tity is not known, but he stood near enough to the battle 
 to give us this eye-witness's account of it: 
 
 "As soon as it was light we saw the Regulars that was 
 left at Princeton Marching toward Trenton and in about 
 half a hour's time we saw them comeing back faster then 
 they went; a Party of them came into our Field and laid 
 down their Packs there and formed at the corner of our 
 Garden about 60 yards from the door and then marcht 
 away immediately to the field of Battle which was in 
 William Clarks wheat field and Orchard Round about his 
 house and how much further to the westard I know not. 
 It was plain within sight of our door at about 400 Yards 
 distance. . . . 
 
 "Before any Gun was heard a man was seen to fall 
 and Immediately the Report and Smoke of a Gun was 
 
 194 
 
IN THE JERSEYS 
 
 Seen and Heard. And the guns went of so quick and 
 many together that they could not be numbered, we 
 Presently went down into the Cellar to keep out of the 
 Way of the Shot. . . . Ahnost as soon as the firing was 
 over our house was filled and surrounded with Gen'. 
 Washington's Men, and he himself on horseback at the 
 door. They brought in with them on their Shoulders 
 two Wounded Regulars. . . . They was both Used very 
 tenderly by the Rebels (as they call them). . . . 
 
 "As soon as the battle was over Gen'. Mercer (who 
 had his horse shot down under him, and then received 
 several wounds by which in some days after he dyed) was 
 carryed into Thomas Clark's house with several other 
 wounded men, And above Twenty was carried into Wil- 
 liam Clark's house. . . . 
 
 "Immediately after the Battle (as I said before) Gen'. 
 Washington's Men came into our house Though they 
 were both hungry and thirsty some of them laughing out 
 right, others smileing, and not a man among them but 
 showed Joy in the Countenance. It really Animated my 
 old blood with Love to those men that but a few minutes 
 before had been Couragiously looking Death in the face 
 in Releiving a part of their Country from the Barbarous 
 Insults and Ravages of a bold and Dareing Enemy." 
 
 A crude but human picture certainly. To make it 
 vivid you should go down to the battle-field itself and see 
 the place as he saw it. On the way you pass stately 
 Morven, the home of Richard Stockton, and used by 
 Cornwallis as his headquarters. Then, beyond other 
 handsome country houses, you reach the Pyne estate, 
 where you turn from the main highway down the Old 
 Post Road. 
 
 195 
 
REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 
 
 The "narrator"' that I have just quoted stood about 
 half-way down to the bridge. To his left occurred the first 
 encounter between Mercer's troops, supported by Cap- 
 tain Neal's battery of two guns, and the two British regi- 
 ments that were starting for Trenton but had turned back, 
 as he describes, upon seeing the hght flashing on the 
 bayonets of the Americans. Both parties were surprised. 
 The Americans got under cover of a rail fence in William 
 Clark's orchard near liis house. And, when the firing be- 
 gan behind it, our narrator went into his cellar ! 
 
 After the third volley the British charged and the 
 Americans retreated in disorder. Their officers, unwiUing 
 to yield, remained behind, trying to rally their men, and 
 thus a number of these gallant men fell : Captain Neal, by 
 his guns; Captain Fleming of the Virginians; Haslet, 
 colonel of the Delaware regiment, and General Mercer 
 himself, who, as the narrator recounts, "having had his 
 horse shot down under him," was wounded, knocked 
 down, bayonetted, and left for dead. 
 
 Tliis last episode Trumbull has made the subject of 
 his famous painting of the "Battle of Princeton," the 
 precious sketches for wliich. in pen and lavis, hang in the 
 University library, showing different elements of the com- 
 position shifted a number of times before the final ar- 
 rangement was adopted. 
 
 A pile of cannon-baUs on the battle-field now marks 
 the spot where Mercer fell. Near it still stands the house 
 of Thomas Clark, to which he was carried and in which 
 he died. 
 
 196 
 
IN THE JERSEYS 
 
 A flagpole and a little monument were erected here in 
 1897 by the Mercer Engine Company of Princeton. The 
 tablet was unveiled by Master Hugh Mercer, great- 
 
 ., v* 
 
 l\^.^> 
 
 - AV 
 
 ■'^^^ 
 
 House and Boom in Which 
 General fiercer Died 
 
 J 
 
 great-grandson of 
 ^3 the general, and the 
 
 ^ address upon this oc- 
 
 casion was delivered 
 by Professor Henry C. Cameron, of Princeton Uni- 
 versity, a close student of Princeton's history. Profes- 
 sor Cameron presented me with a copy of this speech 
 and from it I quote the next episode — the chmax of 
 the battle. 
 
 197 
 
REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 
 
 As we have seen, the Americans were retreating in dis- 
 order when, 
 
 "upon hearing the fire, Washington sent the Pennsyl- 
 A^ania mihtia and Moulder's battery to the assistance of 
 Mercer. The flight of the Americans was stopped and 
 the Rritish pursuit arrested, but their artillery caused the 
 militia to hesitate. Washington now appeared in person, 
 comprehended the situation at a glance, and putting 
 spurs to his horse, he dashed past the militia, galloped 
 to the front of his wavering troops and with connnand- 
 ing voice cheered them on. . . . 
 
 "Washington seemed reckless of all danger; never was 
 he in greater peril for he was between the lines. Rein- 
 ing up his horse with head to the enemy, he sat im- 
 movable, exposed to the fire of both armies and escape 
 from death seemed impossible. 
 
 "His aid. Colonel Fitzgerald, who often told the story 
 to one whom I remember in my boyhood, covered his 
 eyes with liis hat that he might not witness the death of 
 his beloved chief. A roar of musketry follows, the gal- 
 lant Hitchcock's Rhode Island regiment on the right 
 and the 7th Virginia, with cheers, and other Continentals 
 swing into line on the left, the enemy breaks and flies as 
 the shout of victory arises from the American army. 
 Washington's aid ventured to look, and, as the smoke of 
 battle lifted, he beheld him safe; galloped to his side ex- 
 claiming, 'Thank God, your Excellency is safe,' and re- 
 ceived the order, 'Away, my dear Colonel, bring up the 
 men, the day is our own.' " 
 
 The Rritish 55th made a last determined stand near 
 Nassau Hall, but a few cannon-balls and superior num- 
 
 198 
 
IN THE JERSEYS 
 
 bers finally dislodged them and they retreated toward 
 New Brunswick. 
 
 Nassau Hall, around which still centre the University's 
 traditions, fits, in essentials, the old descriptions of it. 
 But you will admit that there have been changes in it 
 and its surroundings since the days of the Revolution 
 when you chance to read such an account as that given 
 by a French traveller of distinction, Moreau de St. 
 Mery, who wrote his "Voyage aux Etats-Unis d'Ame- 
 rique," in the latter years of the eighteenth century. 
 
 He tells us that about eighty houses, some of them of 
 brick, then bordered the road in Princeton. 
 
 J^^ft 
 
 ^*"^t 
 
 Nas.oaii Hall, Princeton 
 
 199 
 
REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 
 
 "On voit dans cette ville une eglise presbyterienne et 
 un college; ce dernier exige que nous nous arretions pour 
 en parler, comme nous avons fait pour le visiter." 
 
 So he describes Old Nassau, giving its measurements 
 correctly, but also telKng us that the forecourt was dirty 
 and full of the dung of animals that grazed there. In its 
 dormitory were forty-two rooms, each for tliree students, 
 and there were a chapel, a refectory, and a library of 
 about two hundred volumes; while on the ground floor, 
 opposite the principal door (just where it is to-day), was 
 a large hall, "garnie de bancs." 
 
 On entering this hall one saw to the right a picture 
 about eight feet high — a full-length portrait of General 
 Washington. "Quoique la peinture de ce tableau ne soit 
 pas sans merite, on pent neanmoins y critiquer trois 
 choses." And he goes on to enumerate his three criti- 
 cisms: first, Washington holds his hat in his hand while 
 commanding in battle; second, Mercer scarcely seems to 
 be suffering enough; and third, the aides-de-camp do not 
 appear to be sufficiently concerned with their dying 
 general. 
 
 The picture thus described is Charles Wilson Peale's 
 well-known portrait of Washington that still hangs in 
 this very hall. It has a curious history. In its place, in 
 a handsome frame, prior to the battle of Princeton, hung 
 a portrait of George III. One of the cannon-balls fired 
 by the American troops in the brief engagement round 
 Nassau Hall pierced the wall of the structure and took 
 off the King's head. Washington, when he heard of this 
 
 200 
 
IN THE JERSEYS 
 
 occurrence, wishing to make good the loss to the col- 
 lege, generously gave from his private purse the sum of 
 two hundred and fifty dollars to help replace it. The 
 board of trustees, not wanting another portrait of the 
 King, commissioned Peale to paint the portrait that we 
 now see hanging in the identical frame that once sur- 
 rounded his Majesty's hkeness. 
 
 I do not agree with all of M. de St. Mery's strictures, 
 for I consider that the dying Mercer's head (said to have 
 been painted from a brother who closely resembled the 
 general) is an exceptionally able piece of painting, im- 
 printed with a pathos and depth of suffering rarely seen 
 in official portraiture. In the background one catches a 
 glimpse of Nassau Hall itself, round which the battle 
 rages. 
 
 While in the venerable shadow of Old Nassau I cannot 
 refrain from giving an extract from the quaint diary of 
 one of its students — a "campaign journal" as he calls it 
 — in which he recounts the events immediately preced- 
 ing the battle: 
 
 "On the 29th of November, 1776, New Jersey College, 
 long the peaceful seat of science and haunt of the Muses, 
 was visited with the melancholy tidings of the approach 
 of the enemy. 
 
 "This alarmed our fears and gave us reason to believe 
 we must soon bid adieu to our peaceful Departments and 
 break off in the midst of our dehghtful studies; nor were 
 we long held in suspense; our worthy President, deeply 
 affected at the solemn scene entered the Hall, where the 
 students were collected, and in a very affecting manner, 
 
 201 
 
REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 
 
 informed us of the improbability of continuing them 
 longer in peace. . . . Solemnity and distress appeared 
 on almost every countenance." 
 
 The president, to whom he alludes, was the Reverend 
 Doctor John Witherspoon, whose grim portrait, with 
 Bible in hand, still hangs in the hall. He was the only 
 minister of the gospel in the Continental Congress, and 
 when other of its members hesitated to sign the Declara- 
 tion of Independence, he stepped forward courageously 
 and said: "That noble instrument upon your table which 
 secures immortality to its author, should be subscribed 
 this very morning by every pen in this house. He who 
 will not respond to its accents is unworthy the name of 
 freeman." 
 
 Later on, in August, 1783, the Continental Congress 
 held its sessions here in Old Nassau and summoned before 
 it General George Washington to thank him officially 
 upon the successful issue of the war in which he had 
 "acted so conspicuous a part." 
 
 From that time until the following November Wash- 
 ington resided at Rocky Hill, a few miles distant, and, 
 while there, wrote his "Farewell Orders," as they were 
 called, but better known as his "Farewell Address to the 
 Armies of the United States," which he dated "Rocky 
 Hill, near Princeton, November 2, 1783." The white 
 clapboarded house in which he then resided is still 
 standing a few miles from the town. To visit it you take 
 the Brunswick turnpike and follow the Old Post Road 
 from Philadelphia to New York, over the very same 
 
 202 
 
IN THE JERSEYS 
 
 route that the Americans took after the battle of Prince- 
 ton, 
 
 Rocky Hill stands on an eminence just off tliis road, 
 dominating a wide expanse of beautiful Jersey landscape, 
 soft and green as a bit of rural England. The house is 
 piously preserved as a museum, and the room, opening on 
 the upper porch, in which the address was written, is still 
 shown. 
 
 In January, 1777, well pleased with his successes at 
 Trenton and Princeton, Washington pushed on to Pluck- 
 aniin and thence to the high ground about Morristown, 
 where he went uito winter quarters until the following 
 May. 
 
 203 
 
Ill 
 
 MORRISTOWN 
 
 MORRISTOWN to-day is very well known as 
 one of the most agreeable towns round about 
 New York. Just too iai from the metropolis 
 to be called suburban, it possesses the handsome homes 
 and extensive estates of a number of New Yorkers who, 
 wishing to be sufficiently near the metropolis to enjoy its 
 advantages, yet desire to live in the country and partake 
 of the pleasures afforded by fine golf-links, riding to 
 hounds, beagling, and other gentlemen's pastimes. 
 
 In Revolutionary days it centred round a green, placed 
 where its three principal streets — Morris, Water, and 
 South — converged and about which clustered most of its 
 fifty-seven houses and its two hundred and fifty in- 
 habitants. Its strategic position, perched as it is upon 
 steep hillsides and dominated by Kemble Mountain, as 
 well as the fine rich valleys about it that made provision- 
 ing more easy, twice made it Washington's choice for 
 winter quarters. 
 
 We have just followed him hither for the first time in 
 January, 1777. He, on that occasion, took up his head- 
 quarters in the old Arnold or Freeman Tavern that used 
 to stand where the United States Hotel now fronts upon 
 
 204 
 
IN THE JERSEYS 
 
 the main square. This first winter passed abnost without 
 incident. But as spring advanced the British tried to 
 entice him down from his hillsides and lead him into a 
 decisive battle. Instead of lending himself to their 
 manoeuvres, he threw out skirmishing parties and raised 
 the Jersey militia to harass them as much as possible 
 and with excellent results. 
 
 The Princeton student, whom I have before quoted, 
 joined the Amwell militia and took part in many of these 
 forays. In one of his later papers he thus describes what 
 they did: 
 
 "The enemy had, some days before this, removed from 
 Brunswick to Millstone, near the Court House and it 
 was thought would make an attempt on Philadelphia. 
 This roused the Militia of all the neighboring counties 
 and they turned out with such spirit as will do them 
 honor to the latest ages. Never did the Jerseys appear 
 more universally unanimous to oppose the Enemy; they 
 turned out Old and young, great and small. Rich and 
 poor; Scarcely a man that could carry a musket was left 
 at home. . . . 
 
 "The British then fled with greatest haste to Bruns- 
 wick; but the Militia pursued them so closely and so 
 warmly, that they made no stay there. On Sunday morn- 
 ing, June 22nd, they were driven out of the Town, and 
 chased near to Amboy by the spirited Mihtia. . . . 
 Thursday, June, 26. the enemy came out with their whole 
 Body from Amboy and proceeded to Westfield, where 
 they plundered and destroyed everything before them 
 and distressed the Inhabitants in a manner before un- 
 heard of, but before they returned to Amboy numbers of 
 
 205 
 
REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 
 
 them were cut off by part of our army, and some Militia. 
 They returned to Amboy, and on Monday evening, June 
 the 30th, 1777, they all left Amboy and went to Staten 
 Island." 
 
 Thus were the Jerseys freed from the enemy, and thus 
 did Washington, without a battle, again make himself 
 master of the State. Thus "the British army, after hav- 
 ing overrun victoriously the whole of New Jersey quite 
 to the Delaware, and caused even the city of Philadel- 
 phia to tremble for its safety, found itself now restricted 
 to the two posts of Brunswick and Amboy. Thus by an 
 army almost reduced to extremity, Philadelphia was 
 saved, Pennsylvania protected, New Jersey nearly re- 
 covered, and a vigorous and powerful army laid under the 
 necessity of quitting all thoughts of acting offensively."* 
 
 The second time the American army wintered in Morris- 
 town was two years later. On that occasion they were 
 better housed. Log huts were built, sixteen feet long 
 and just high enough for a man to stand erect, and each 
 provided with ten or twelve bunks. Washington had 
 issued strict orders that "any hut not exactly conformable 
 to the plan or the least out of line, should be pulled down 
 and built again." The result was a model camp, so reg- 
 ular that a visitor narrates that "the encampments are 
 exceedingly neat; the huts are all of a size and placed in 
 more exact order than Philadelphia. You would be sur- 
 prised to see how well built they are without nails." 
 
 There were about ten thousand men in the army that 
 
 * Botla. 
 206 
 
IN THE JERSEYS 
 
 year. The park of artillery was nearest to town, lying 
 upon the slope of a hill " along the present Mendham road 
 just beyond the city hmits where the road turns sharply 
 to the left." Doctor Emory McClintock has carefully 
 studied the topography of this camp and, in a paper read 
 
 Washington's Headquarters, Morristown 
 
 before the Washington Association of New Jersey, describes 
 the location of each brigade around Kemble Mountain. 
 
 The summit of this high hill being visible from most of 
 these encampments, as well as from headquarters, it was 
 chosen as the camp alarm station with orders to fire its 
 two guns at the first signal of an enemy's approach. 
 
 Washington's headquarters that winter were in the 
 
 207 
 
REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 
 
 house of Colonel Jacob Ford's widow, a fine mansion 
 built of brick, covered over with planks, painted white, 
 but not clapboarded, being laid edge to edge. It still 
 stands but a short mile from the green out on the Newark 
 turnpike. A refined and aristocratic air pervades it, 
 set as it is upon broad lawns, quite free from neighboring 
 houses. Its halls are spacious; its rooms large and fin- 
 ished with well-designed woodwork of the usual Colonial 
 pattern. It is now arranged as a museum and is, I think, 
 after Mount Vernon and the National Museum in Wash- 
 ington, the richest that I have seen in souvenirs and 
 rehcs of our national hero. 
 
 The drawing-room is hung with portraits of him; be- 
 hind it the room that he used as his office still contains 
 his desk and other articles that belonged to the original 
 Ford furniture. On the wall hangs Erskine's plan of the 
 Morristown encampment, prepared under Washington's 
 own direction. Adjoining this office was that of his chief 
 secretary, Alexander Hamilton. These rooms lie to the 
 left of the main hall ; to its right are the dining-room and 
 several smaller apartments, with the kitchen beyond — a 
 kitchen sadly overfilled with a variety of ticketed utensils 
 donated by patriotic women. The hall up-stairs is de- 
 voted to arms and uniforms. 
 
 The bedroom on the east front is the one that General 
 Washington and his lady occupied during that winter. 
 There are a few small objects in it that were there at the 
 time and a fragment of the handsome carpet that he trod, 
 framed and under glass, hangs upon the wall. 
 
 208 
 
IN THE JERSEYS 
 
 But the articles that recall liim most are those in a 
 room across the hall: the clothes, sword, and accessories 
 that he wore on the evening of his inauguration. The 
 quiet suit, cut in the familiar pattern, is made of a finely 
 woven ribbed silk, brownish gray in color and ornamented 
 with large buttons covered to match. A knee-buckle, 
 set with brilhants, and a pair of shoe-buckles of simpler 
 pattern impart a touch of elegance to the costume. The 
 dress sword is the one known as the Darke sword, because 
 given him by liis old friend, Major-General William Darke. 
 
 In the case with these articles are some of Martha 
 Washington's slippers, one high-heeled pair, white; an- 
 other, pale blue. Scattered throughout the house, with 
 many articles of doubtful authenticity, are others of the 
 highest historic interest, as, for example, the original 
 letter written by Captain John Van Dyk concerning 
 Andre's execution — to which I have referred in another 
 chapter. You will find also finely tailored uniforms of 
 British officers; the peaked hats of Hessian grenadiers; 
 and knapsacks embellished with the familiar G. R. mon- 
 ogram, as well as numerous articles that once belonged 
 to women of the period, such as shell combs, scarfs, an 
 ear-trumpet that really is a trumpet, bonnets of leghorn 
 and bonnets of silk, fans, rings, bracelets, and a curious 
 sewing-bird that, screwed to a table, used to hold my 
 lady's work within its beak. 
 
 Life here at the Morristown headquarters had its 
 alarms that winter and its pleasures. The alarms were, 
 for the most part, unnecessary, for no enemy came to 
 
 209 
 
REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 
 
 molest the army, but they were extremely annoying to 
 the two ladies of the household, Mrs. Washington and 
 Mrs. Ford, whose rooms, with the others, were invaded by 
 the soldiers of Washington's life-guard, who threw up the 
 windows, ready to repel any attack, while the ladies re- 
 tired behind the curtains of their beds. 
 
 The life-guards, of whom there were two hundred and 
 fifty, commanded by General Colfax, were quartered in 
 log huts erected for them on the southeast lawn. Elijah 
 Fisher, whose quaint "Journal" I quoted at Saratoga, 
 was one of them and enjoyed his winter very much, for 
 he says he "liked being there better than being in the 
 Ridgment let them go where they would." 
 
 And certainly life had its diversions. Count Pulaski 
 exercised his cavalry in the meadow below the house 
 and gave exhibitions of daring Polish horsemanship that 
 filled the young officers with en^^. Here, too, presum- 
 ably, "a young braggadocia of the army," anxious to 
 emulate the Polish count's example, asked the privilege 
 of breaking a spirited colt that Washington had just 
 bought. His Excellency gave his consent and the young 
 fellow mounted the horse, retaining his seat but a mo- 
 ment or two when his fiery mount threw up his heels, 
 hurling his rider over his head and landing him in such 
 ludicrous fashion that Washington "was so convulsed 
 with laughter, that the tears ran down his cheeks."* 
 
 Distinguished visitors came and went. The new French 
 minister, the Chevalier de Luzerne, was welcomed and 
 
 * Notes of the Reverend Mr. Tuttle. (Irving, " Life of Washington.") 
 
 210 
 
IN THE JERSEYS 
 
 made a lengthy stay, numerous reviews and a handsome 
 ball being given in his honor. Here occurred the funeral 
 of his friend, Don Juan de Miralles, who died of a pul- 
 monic fever and was buried in Spanish fashion with great 
 pomp, Washington and his generals walking as chief 
 mourners. Here, too, again to quote Elijah Fisher, "the 
 Ingen chief come to Head Quarters to Congratelate with 
 His Exelency and also Dined with him." 
 
 Another pleasing picture connected with that long 
 winter is afforded by Alexander Hamilton's courtship. 
 The house wherein it took place still stands just off the 
 main road between headquarters and the town — a simple 
 homestead that has now been moved so as to face a side 
 street. It was the residence at that time of Doctor Jabez 
 Campfield, and in it that winter dwelt the Surgeon-Gen- 
 eral, John Cochran. His wife was a sister of General 
 Schuyler and the general's daughter Ehzabeth, a charm- 
 ing girl of twenty-two, was visiting her aunt. Colonel 
 Hamilton, who, as I have said, was Washington's chief 
 secretary, met her often and became so interested in her 
 that he spent most of his evenings in her society. So we 
 can picture him, as he is described, returning to head- 
 quarters in the moonlight, his mind so full of romantic 
 thoughts of her whom he had just left and was to marry 
 in the following year, that he completely forgot the 
 countersign. The sentry, obdurate, though he recog- 
 nized his Excellency's aide-de-camp, refused to let him 
 pass until a friend had prompted him and restored to liis 
 wandering thoughts the cabalistic word. 
 
 211 
 
REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 
 
 These were the hghter touches in a very sombre winter. 
 In January the snow was from four to five feet deep and 
 the cold intense. The sufferings of the ill-clothed troops 
 were terrible. As usual, Washington's sympathy went 
 out to his men and he tried in every way to alleviate 
 their misery, but with httle real success, as he thus writes 
 to a friend: "We have had the virtue and patience of 
 the army put to the severest trial. Sometimes it has been 
 five or six days together without bread, at other times as 
 many without meat and once or twice two or three days 
 without either. ... As an army they bore it with the 
 most heroic patience; but sufferings like these, accom- 
 panied by the want of clothes, blankets, &c., will produce 
 frequent desertions in all armies ; and so it happened with 
 us, though it did not excite a single mutiny." 
 
 212 
 
ROUND ABOUT PHILADELPHIA 
 
ROUND ABOUT PHILADELPHIA 
 
 I 
 CHADD'S FORD AND THE BRANDYWINE 
 
 OUR next visits will be paid to the historic lo- 
 calities in the vicinity of Philadelphia, whither 
 the seat of war now shifted. 
 
 During the early half of 1777 Washington, as we have 
 seen, had been able to free New Jersey from British 
 forces and, as the summer ended, he was intently watch- 
 ing the movements of General Howe in New York. 
 There lay the difficult problem. Would the British com- 
 mander-in-chief ascend the Hudson to attempt to join 
 Burgoyne or would he move south upon Philadelphia.^ 
 
 This city — the capital of the colonies — had been men- 
 aced once before just prior to the battle of Trenton and 
 now, after a period of doubt, Howe decided to attack it 
 again, as, to use his own words, the capture of Philadel- 
 phia seemed "the surest road to peace and the defeat of 
 the regular rebel army." 
 
 So he embarked an imposing expedition early in July, 
 and set sail from Sandy Hook on the 23d of that month, 
 arriving off Cape Henlopen on the 30th, His intention 
 had been to ascend Delaware Bay and disembark his 
 army somewhere near Wilmington, but he found that 
 
 215 
 
REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 
 
 Washington had forestalled him by establishing a strong 
 water-guard on the Delaware; by placing floating bat- 
 teries in it; and by marching his main army down to 
 Wilmington. In the face of such serious opposition, 
 Howe realized that it would be impossible successfully 
 to land his army. 
 
 So he was forced to put to sea again with his great 
 fleet. His withdrawal perplexed Washington, for nothing 
 was heard of him for some time. A council of officers 
 had just unanimously decided that he had sailed for 
 Charleston, when a message came from John Hancock, 
 president of Congress, that "near two hundred of General 
 Howe's fleet was at anchor in the Chesapeake Bay." 
 
 Washington, foreseeing the next move, was busy 
 again. On the 22d of August he visited the defenses at 
 Mud Island, Red Bank, and Billingsport, forts in the 
 Delaware below Philadelphia, and, three days later, made 
 "a Reconnoitre to the Head of Elk with a large party of 
 Horse," as his account-book tells us. 
 
 The Head of Elk is at the extreme north end of the 
 Chesapeake Bay. It is now known as Elkton, and lies 
 on the main railway line between Philadelphia and Bal- 
 timore. 
 
 The British fleet sailed up the Chesapeake as far as 
 Turkey Point, ten miles below the Head of Elk, and there 
 disembarked the entire army, eighteen thousand strong. 
 And a day or two later, this army was at the Head of 
 Elk, only fifty-four miles from Philadelphia. 
 
 Washington was determined to oppose its further ad- 
 
 216 
 
ROUND ABOUT PHILADELPHIA 
 
 vance, strong as it was. His own army only numbered 
 about eleven thousand and many of these were raw re- 
 cruits, but he considered that even a lost battle would be 
 less dispiriting to the soldiers and the colonies than an 
 
 Map of Vicinity of Pkiladelphia 
 
 unopposed march of the British into Philadelphia. So 
 on the 9th of September he took up a position, selected 
 by General Greene, along the east bank of the Bran- 
 dywine, a considerable stream that flows down to join 
 the Delaware at Wilmington. Slight intrenchments were 
 thrown up and Washington made his own headquarters 
 in the village called Chadd's Ford. 
 
 217 
 
REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 
 
 I spent a summer in this village some years ago. 
 Though the woods described in the Revolutionary ac- 
 counts have largely disappeared, and are now replaced by 
 open meadows and pasturelands, with here and there 
 lines and clusters of handsome trees, many of the quaint 
 old houses and mills yet remain as well as a number of 
 those fine old stone barns that give such a distinctive 
 note to the landscape — massive structures, usually placed 
 on hill-slopes so that the wagons can drive into the upper 
 story from the rear. 
 
 I stayed at a little inn kept by Quakers (many of the 
 inhabitants hereabout are still Friends), and well kept, 
 too, and in it, that season, were a group of New York 
 artists out for their summer sketching, 
 
 LTp the road, beyond Washington's headquarters, 
 lived Howard Pyle, who had brought with him a special 
 class of pupils from Wilmington and Philadelphia, several 
 of whom now rank among our foremost illustrators. 
 Mr, Pyle and I were both engaged upon illustrations 
 for the same book and this was a bond between us which 
 soon ripened into a good friendship. In his buggy he 
 used to stop for me at the inn and we went sketcliing 
 together up the valley of the Rrandywine or over the 
 hill toward the Rirmingham Meeting House. 
 
 Those were delightful afternoons and the memory of 
 them lingers as a precious reminiscence, for he was an 
 exceptional man — stalwart and healthy and fine in mind 
 as in body. He was, of course, as his work always showed, 
 a very close student of the Revolutionary period, and his 
 
 218 
 
ROUND ABOUT PHILADELPHIA 
 
 life was tinged with the flavor of that epoch. So, when I 
 think of Chadd's Ford I love to recall his manly voice 
 singing the martial ballads that he liked— the "British 
 Grenadier," "Rule Britannia," and others of that ilk— 
 
 Washington's Headquarters, near Chadd's Ford 
 
 and his personality is closely linked in my mind with 
 memories of the battle of the Brandywine, for our excur- 
 sions together afford a vivid background for it. 
 
 As I have said, Washington took up his quarters at 
 Chadd's Ford on the 9th of September. 
 
 219 
 
REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 
 
 That same afternoon General Knyphausen, with the 
 Hessians, marched into New Garden and Kennett Square, 
 on the opposite bank of the river, though a few miles dis- 
 tant from it. In this vicinity there were several fords 
 along the Rrandywine, by any one of which an army 
 could pass: Chadd's, directly between the two hostile 
 camps; Pyle's, below; Rrinton's and others, above. On 
 the following morning Cornwallis joined Kynphausen, 
 accompanied by the commander-in-chief, General Howe. 
 Thus, by the night of the 10th of September, the two 
 armies lay watching each other. Washington thought he 
 had picketed all the fords up and down the river, and so 
 was facing only the possibility of a frontal attack. 
 
 Early on the morning of the 11th skirmishing began 
 along the Brandywine, parties of Americans crossing 
 and engaging the enemy, who drove them back. Knyp- 
 hausen then brought up artillery and began bombarding 
 the main American lines as if preparatory to a concen- 
 trated attack. 
 
 Meanwhile, unknown to Washington, Cornwallis, with 
 General Howe himself and about five thousand troops, 
 had made a long detour up the river, crossed its two 
 feeders by small fords, and was even now coming down 
 from Sconneltown by a road that led to the Birmingham 
 Meeting House, in the rear of the American army. Though 
 discovered at one time by an American patrol, this column 
 had not been definitely located as it passed through the 
 dense woods, and the surprise of its sudden appearance 
 was complete. Tliis surprise and the events that followed 
 
 220 
 
ROUND ABOUT PHILADELPHIA 
 
 are graphically told in a statement by Joseph Townsend, 
 a Quaker who lived up near Sconneltown and saw the 
 battle that he thus describes : * 
 
 
 Lafayette s Headquarters, near Chadd's Ford 
 
 "At that time I resided at my father's, the place of my 
 nativity, adjoining to the ground where West Chester now 
 stands. ... A majority of the inhabitants were of the 
 Society of Friends, who could not consistently with their 
 principles take any part in the war, and who generally 
 believed it right to remain in their dwellings, and patiently 
 submit to whatever suffering might be their lot. . . , 
 
 * "Bulletin of the Historical Society of Pennsylvania," vol. I, 1845-7. 
 
 221 
 
REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 
 
 "General Washington had his head quarters at Ben- 
 jamin Rings' who resided near the east end of Chadd's 
 ford, and General La Fayette was near at hand in the 
 neighborhood.* They were frequently together, which 
 afforded an opportunity to spectators to view them both 
 at the same time. ..." 
 
 He then describes the disposition of the two armies, as 
 I have done, and the skirmishing on the morning of the 
 11th of September. Then, "possessed of curiosity and 
 fond of new things," with his brother he rode "along side 
 of the Brandy wine for some distance, to discover the ap- 
 proach of the British army." But, seeing nothing, they 
 went to a Friends' meeting up at Sconneltown and while 
 there heard a disturbance outside. 
 
 "On our coming out of the house, and making some in- 
 quiry of what had happened, found it to be an alarm 
 among some of the neighboring women, that the English 
 army was coming, and that they murdered all before 
 them, young and old. Some of us endeavored to quiet 
 their fears by telling them it was not likely to be the 
 case . . . and while we were reasoning with them, our 
 eyes were caught on a sudden by the appearance of the 
 army coming out of the woods into the fields belonging 
 to Emmor Jefferis, on the west side of the creek above 
 the fording placet Ii^ ^ f^w minutes the fields were 
 literally covered with them, and they were hastening 
 towards us. Their arms and bayonets being raised, 
 
 * Both headquarters still stand quite close together on the main road. 
 Lafayette had just been commissioned a volunteer major-general, and 
 this was the first action in which he participated. 
 
 t Jeffery's Ford. 
 
 222 
 
ROUND ABOUT PHILADELPHIA 
 
 shone as bright as silver, there being a clear sky and 
 the day exceedingly warm. Recollecting that there was 
 no one at our dwelling, except some of our sisters, we 
 concluded it advisable to return home as expeditiously as 
 possible." 
 
 But the British changed their direction at Sconnel- 
 town and headed down toward the Birmingham Meeting 
 House, so 
 
 "being disposed to have a better and a nearer view, we 
 set out for the purpose and passing by the dwelling of 
 Abel Boake, we soon met Sarah, his wife, who had been 
 as curious as ourselves and had l)een among the soldiers 
 as they marched along. . . . She encouraged our go- 
 ing amongst them, at the same time admiring their ap- 
 pearance and saying what fine looking fellows they 
 were, and to use her own expression 'they were some- 
 thing Hke an army.' " 
 
 So the brothers went to have a nearer view and to 
 talk to the officers, who seemed glad to see them — for, I 
 suspect, the two had Tory leanings, as most of the 
 Quakers did. 
 
 "They inquired what sort of a man Mr. Washington 
 was. My brother had a knowledge of him by being with 
 him at his quarters at Chadd's Ford, and rephed that he 
 was a stately, well-proportioned, fine-looking man, of 
 great ability, firm and resolute, of a social disposition 
 and was considered to be a good man. 
 
 "One of the officers then observed to me in some rap- 
 ture 'you have got a hell of a fine country here, which 
 
 223 
 
REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 
 
 we have found to be the case ever since we landed at 
 the head of Elk." 
 
 "The house we were in was elevated, so that on the 
 first floor where we stood we had a pretty full view of 
 the army as they progressed along; and while we were 
 conversing together, my brother called on me to step 
 to the door and see General Lord Cornwallis, who was 
 passing by. He was on horseback, appeared tall and sat 
 very erect. His rich scarlet clothing, loaded with gold 
 lace, epaulets, etc., occasioned him to make a brilliant 
 and martial appearance. ... It may be observed that 
 most or all of the officers who conversed with us, were of 
 first rank, and were rather short, portly men, were well 
 dressed and of genteel appearance, and did not look as 
 if they had ever been exposed to any hardship; their 
 skins being as white and delicate as is customary for 
 females who were brought up in large cities or towns." 
 
 When the main action began, our friend retired to a 
 hill, where 
 
 "in Samuel Osborn's field a number of my acquaintances 
 were standing near a considerable number of persons on 
 horseback and viewing them. ... It appeared that 
 those on horseback were some of the principal officers of 
 the British army with their aids, who had collected to- 
 gether to consult respecting carrying on the engage- 
 ment to the best advantage. Among them was General 
 Howe. He was mounted on a large English horse much 
 reduced in flesh, I suppose from being so long con- 
 fined on board the fleet. . . . The general was a large 
 portly man, of coarse features. He appeared to have 
 lost his teeth, as his mouth had fallen in. As I stood 
 alongside, I had a full opportunity of viewing him as he 
 
 224 
 
ROUND ABOUT PHILADELPHIA 
 
 sat on horseback, and had to observe his large legs and 
 boots, with flourishing spurs thereon. 
 
 "While the officers were in consultation, and we view- 
 ing them together with the smoke issuing from the can- 
 non and musketry, we heard a tremendous roaring of 
 
 ^Y^ 
 
 
 lURMINGHAM 
 
 MEETING-HOl SE 
 
 Birmingham Meeting House, near L'hadd's Ford 
 
 cannon, and saw the volume of smoke arising therefrom 
 at Chadd's Ford. General Knyphausen having discov- 
 ered that the engagement was on with the front of Howe's 
 army at the Meeting House, he immediately forced the 
 troops under his command across the Brandywine, and 
 the whole of General Washington's army in that station 
 were routed from their breastworks. . . . From these 
 circumstances General Washington concluded it prudent 
 to effect a retreat wliich took place accordingly. 
 
 225 
 
REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 
 
 "While we remained on Osborne's hill, we had the op- 
 portunity of making many observations, — the engage- 
 ment of both armies — the fields in front of us containing 
 great heaps of blankets and baggage, thrown together to 
 relieve the men for action — the regular march of the 
 British army, consisting of horse and foot, artillery, bag- 
 gage and provision wagons, arms and ammunition, to- 
 gether with a host of plunderers and rabble that accom- 
 panied the army. Almost the whole face of the country 
 around appeared to be covered and alive with these ob- 
 jects. Their march continued about four hours. 
 
 "We remained on the hill for some time, and when 
 the engagement appeared to be nearly over or at least 
 that part of it which was in view, and the day being on 
 the decline, we were about retiring; but as admiration 
 and curiosity had been the order of the day, I proposed 
 to some of my companions that we should go over the 
 field of battle and take a view of the dead and wound- 
 ed, as we might never have such another opportunity. 
 Some of them consented, and others with some reluc- 
 tance yielded. We hastened thither and awful was the 
 scene to behold — such a number of fellow beings lying 
 together severely wounded and some mortally — a few 
 dead, but a small proportion of them considering the 
 quantity of powder and ball that had been discharged. 
 It was now time for the surgeons to exert themselves, 
 and divers of them were busily employed. Some of the 
 doors of the meeting house were torn off and the wounded 
 carried thereon into the house to be occupied for a hos- 
 pital. ..." 
 
 This picturesque account very well describes the vari- 
 ous episodes of the battle of the Brandywine. For 
 it tells us how, while Knyphausen "kept the enemy 
 
 2'2Q 
 
ROUND ABOUT PHILADELPHIA 
 
 amused during the day with cannon" down by Chadd's 
 Ford, Cornwallis stole a march and, suddenly forming 
 his troops up by the Birmingham Meeting House, fell 
 upon Sulhvan, who had been despatched at the last mo- 
 ment to oppose him there, defeated him and pushed him 
 back; while Knyphausen, "having discovered that the 
 engagement was on at the Meeting House," led his troops 
 with a rush across the river and drove the Americans 
 from their intrenchments. Caught thus between two 
 armies, the wonder is that Washington was able to ex- 
 tricate himself at all and could effect his retreat with so 
 little loss and in such good order. 
 
 In helping to cover this retreat, Lafayette, youthful, 
 impetuous, desirous of proving himself worthy of his 
 newly granted commission, was wounded in the leg at a 
 spot upon the Dilworth Road now marked by a monu- 
 ment, appropriately inscribed. 
 
 The old Birmingham Meeting House still stands upon 
 the hill above Chadd's Ford — still used by the Quakers 
 for their meetings — a sturdy stone structure whose doors 
 and window-shutters, now painted neat and white, re- 
 main perpetual reminders of the day when they were 
 torn from their hinges to serve as litters for the British 
 soldiers wounded in the liattle of the Brandywine. 
 
 227 
 
II 
 
 GERMANTOWN 
 
 A FTER the battle of the Brandywine, Washington 
 /% retreated beyond the Schuylkill to Germantown; 
 ^ .m. but as soon as his soldiers were somewhat re- 
 freshed he recrossed the river and again endeavored to 
 stay Howe's advance upon Philadelphia. On the Lan- 
 caster Road, near the Warren Tavern, the two armies 
 again confronted each other, but a sudden September 
 deluge wet their powder and prevented the impending 
 battle. The storm lasted all night and by morning Howe 
 had shpped away toward Swedes' Ford, now Swedeland, 
 opposite Conshohocken, a station we shall pass on the 
 road to Valley Forge. 
 
 Washington crossed back by way of Parker's Ford, 
 higher up the river, but again Howe changed his direc- 
 tion, made a feint up the Schuylkill toward Reading, and, 
 when Wasliington had well started to save his Reading 
 stores, Howe wheeled about, marched rapidly down the 
 river, crossed it at the Fatland Ford, about where Port 
 Kennedy now is, and pushed on to Philadelphia, which 
 he entered on the 26th of September, 1777, having eluded 
 Washington entirely. 
 
 Howe stationed his main army in Germantown, send- 
 ing out detachments to reduce the forts at Billingsport 
 
 228 
 
ROUND ABOUT PHILADELPHIA 
 
 and Fort Mercer on the Delaware below Philadelphia. 
 These two expeditions weakened his effectives to such 
 an extent that Washington, who meanwhile had received 
 reinforcements from Peekskill, was emboldened to try 
 another battle. 
 
 His base, at the time, was at Pennibecker's Mill, up 
 the Skippack Creek. From this place he planned to de- 
 scend by night and make a surprise attack upon the 
 British who remained in Germantown, with their outposts 
 extending as far up as Mount Airy. So, at seven in the 
 evening of the 3d of October, the American army left 
 camp, advancing upon Germantown in three divisions: 
 Sullivan and Wayne leading the centre; Armstrong the 
 right; and Greene the left. These last divisions took 
 outer roads so as to flank the enemy and join the centre 
 in Germantown itself. 
 
 At the time of the Revolution Germantown was a 
 straggling settlement, ranged along a single street. To 
 a certain extent it may so be described to-day, for its 
 single main street, three miles or more in length, is only 
 crossed by short thoroughfares. This long street follows 
 the ridges of several hills up and down, so that no 
 great part of its length can be seen at one time. It is 
 still bordered by many of its old-time houses — a number 
 of them historic and designated by tablets — whose dormer- 
 windows, steep roofs, clapboarded fronts, and colonial 
 doorways impart to it a decided flavor of other days. 
 
 It was down this main street that the principal action 
 occurred in the battle of Germantown. The American 
 
 229 
 
REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 
 
 advanced brigade first came in contact with the pickets 
 up at Mount Airy. These pickets were quickly supported 
 by British hght infantry, for the surprise had not been 
 complete. Sullivan's troops now came up and the Brit- 
 ish retreated, fighting as they went. Even Colonel Mus- 
 grave, with the Fortieth, who pushed forward to the 
 rescue, was not al)le to stem the tide and was obhged to 
 fall back. The British retreat now became general, but 
 when the retiring troops passed the great Chew house 
 that stood near the street Colonel Musgrave flung him- 
 self, with five companies of his regiment, into the big 
 stone mansion, barricaded the doors and windows, and 
 from this improvised fortress fired upon the pursuing 
 American column. The Americans hesitated, halted, and 
 endeavored to dislodge Musgrave and his men. But the 
 solid masonry of the stone house was like a single rock 
 and their bullets bounded off its walls and fell harmless 
 upon the ground. Even General Knox's cannon proved 
 ineffective, and he, obeying a law of military tactics, 
 would not advance and "leave an enemy in a fort in the 
 rear." 
 
 An attempt was then made to set fire to the house. A 
 brave young officer. Major White, one of General Sulli- 
 van's aides, ran in so close with a firebrand that the shots 
 from the windows could not attain him. But a regular, 
 slipping into the cellar, fired up from one of the grated 
 windows and killed him. The stout oaken doors resisted 
 aU attack. 
 
 General Wayne's division, which had advanced far 
 
 230 
 
ROUND ABOUT PHILADELPHIA 
 
 beyond the house in its pursuit of the British, now came 
 back, and for a full hour the Americans laid siege to 
 this annoying obstacle that upset all their preconceived 
 plan of battle. For, the centre being thus delayed, the 
 
 The Chew House, Germantowii 
 
 wings had pushed forward. Greene had met with nota- 
 ble success and had arrived, as ordered, in the vicinity 
 of the Market House that used to stand where the 
 Schoolhouse Lane crossed the main street. But, owing 
 chiefly to the attack on the Chew house, as well as to the 
 slowness of Armstrong's division, he was not supported 
 l)y the arrival of the other parts of the American army. 
 
 231 
 
REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 
 
 The British, who had been thrown into the greatest dis- 
 order, now had time to reorganize their Hne. General 
 Grey brought up the left wing and for two hours the bat- 
 tle raged up and down the street with the issue still in 
 doubt. 
 
 The morning fog thickened and added to the con- 
 fusion. Friend was mistaken for foe. At this critical 
 moment Sullivan's division, feeling itself unsupported 
 and hearing exaggerated rumors of reverses elsewhere, 
 began to retreat. This retreat soon became general, and 
 the "activity of a powerful and almost invisible enemy 
 quickened that retreat." 
 
 Thus, what might well have been a victory was turned 
 to a defeat — a defeat, however, that was not severe 
 enough to discourage the American army nor seriously 
 cripple it. 
 
 On the green at Germantown, near the spot where the 
 old Market House used to stand, is a simple but digni- 
 fied monument "erected by the Commonwealth of 
 Pennsylvania," with a plan of the battle on one side, 
 and on the other this extract from Washington's report 
 to the president of Congress: 
 
 "LIpon the whole it may be said that the day was un- 
 fortunate rather than injurious. We sustained no mate- 
 rial loss. ... 
 
 "The enemy are nothing the better by the event and 
 our troops, who are not in the least disappointed by it, 
 have gained what all young troops gain by being in 
 actions." 
 
 232 
 
ROUND ABOUT PHILADELPHIA 
 
 The last time I stood before this monument it was the 
 centre of a pretty scene. As a local paper expressed it, 
 "the descendants of the Colonial. aristocracy of German- 
 town sold chickens, garden hats, and flowers for the sake 
 of charity," for Vernon Park, as this green is now called, 
 had been converted for the occasion into a huge May 
 market, and in front of the old Wister mansion, with 
 its statue of John Wister before it, "the very shrine of 
 old Germantown famihes," booths had been erected, tea 
 was being served, and young ladies, looking charming 
 in chintzes and silks of colonial fashion, were vending 
 flowers and favors for the benefit of a local charity. 
 There were animals for the children to ride; there were 
 music and a country store and attractions of all kinds 
 as long as daylight lasted. 
 
 Toward evening I wandered up Germantown Avenue 
 to the old Chew house. The stately and venerable man- 
 sion, called CHveden, stands well back from the road on 
 a lawn shaded by fine old trees. It was built in 1763 by 
 Benjamin Chew, an eminent jurist, recorder of the city 
 of Philadelphia, then attorney-general of Pennsylvania, 
 and finally, in 1774, chief justice of its supreme court. 
 His portrait in Independence Hall, copied from a minia- 
 ture, shows a rather sour-faced man, thin, with large 
 spectacles astride a stubborn nose of aristocratic pattern, 
 aquiline, high-bridged, and full of character. 
 
 The chief justice remained "on the fence" at the be- 
 ginning of the Revolution. He favored reform but not 
 independence; wherefore, after refusing to indorse the 
 
 233 
 
REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 
 
 Declaration of Independence, he was put under arrest 
 and sent to Fredericksburg, Virginia, which accounts for 
 his absence during the battle. 
 
 One of his daughters, Peggy, was a heroine of the 
 Mischianza, which I shall describe in my chapter on 
 Philadelphia, and her love-affair with Major Andre forms 
 a lighter touch in the British officer's story. His death, 
 following so soon upon their violent flirtation, did not 
 affect her too deeply, for she afterward married that 
 stanch patriot and splendid gentleman Colonel John 
 Eager Howard, hero of the Cowpens and donor of the 
 land whereon the great Washington Monument now 
 stands in his native city, Baltimore. 
 
 One has only to look at Cliveden's massive walls to 
 realize what a fortress it could l)ecome, and how suc- 
 cessfully it could withstand artillery of the cahbre then 
 in use. It is built of a very hard stone, granitic and 
 thickly sprinkled with glittering particles that shine in 
 the sun Kke mica. The stone is gray, the roofs slate- 
 colored, and the doors and shutters white, giving the old 
 demain an air of tranquil dignity, habited, like a gentle- 
 man, in quiet attire. On the lawns about it stand frag- 
 ments of the statues that were battered and mutilated 
 during the battle. Through one of the grated basement 
 windows Major White was shot. Indeed the picture is 
 still so complete and so unchanged that one can scarcely 
 believe that a century and a half have passed since that 
 memorable day in October, 1777. 
 
 Nor is this impression dispelled on entering the house. 
 
 234 
 
ROUND ABOUT PHILADELPHIA 
 
 Mrs. Chew (the home has always remained in the Chew 
 family) was at home on the afternoon I called, and gra- 
 ciously volunteered to take me about herself. From the 
 main doorway I entered at once into a spacious hall, 
 almost square and decorated with a triple arcade oppo- 
 site the entrance. Through the three arches you per- 
 ceive the stairs that lead to the second story. Old fam- 
 ily portraits, a "silhouette" or two, several historic 
 engravings, and the original furniture give the hall dis- 
 tinction. 
 
 A small room opens off at either side. Treasured in 
 that to the left, Mrs. Chew drew my attention to the 
 very pair of oaken doors that had so successfully re- 
 sisted the American attack, battered and scarred, it is 
 true, but not broken in by any device that could be 
 brought to bear against them. 
 
 Behind these two rooms open two others, much larger 
 than they— a dining-room and a drawing-room. In these 
 also, woodwork, furniture, pictures are all in perfect ac- 
 cord with the general atmosphere of the house and form 
 a rarely complete ensemble. My hostess, too, so simple 
 and all in black, fitted admirably into the picture, espe- 
 cially as she stepped out into the sunlight when I was 
 leaving and stood with her hand resting on one of the 
 stone lions that guard the stairs — a perfect embodiment 
 of quiet distinction. 
 
 235 
 
Ill 
 
 VALLEY FORGE 
 
 WITH Washington's movements after German- 
 town — "the different and continual move- 
 ments of the Army from the time of its march 
 from Germantown till we hutted at Valley Forge, the 
 25th of Dec^" to use his own words — we shall not con- 
 cern ourselves here, for they constituted only a series of 
 minor engagements of no great importance to the general 
 narrative. So we shall follow him directly to his winter 
 quarters on those hills beside the Schuylkill, where Isaac 
 Potts operated his forge in Ihe valley. 
 
 The army arrived there a few days before Christmas, 
 and after their marches and countermarches, with no 
 shoes on their feet, the soldiers hoped to find some re- 
 pose, but were confronted instead with a new array of 
 enemies — hunger and cold, pestilence and discouragement. 
 For that year the army was indeed in dire straits; never 
 before had it been so destitute. On the 23d of December 
 Washington reports "two thousand, eight hundred and 
 ninety-eight men were unfit for duty because barefoot 
 and naked." 
 
 His officers as well as the Assembly of Pennsylvania 
 had tried in vain to persuade him to risk all on the issue 
 of one more decisive battle, but he, realizing only too 
 
 236 
 
ROUND ABOUT PHILADELPHIA 
 
 well the condition and limitations of his poor, ragged 
 troops, wisely adhered to his own plan and gave orders 
 to build the winter huts on the hills of Valley Forge. 
 
 Do you know what Valley Forge looks like to-day? 
 Have you ever visited this shrine "whereon our patri- 
 otism should delight to pile its highest and most vener- 
 ated monument "P 
 
 If so, you know that it is now a State Park, laid out 
 with wide, smooth roads and decorated with a profusion 
 of monuments, both great and small. When I first vis- 
 ited it, some fifteen years ago, it was still an uncultivated 
 tract of land, dotted here and there with farms and 
 crossed here and there with country roads, while the 
 remains of its old intrenchments could still be seen, half 
 hidden by a sturdy growth of trees. Now these intrench- 
 ments are even better defined and, in places, planted 
 with blossoming laurel, while broad asphalt roads lead 
 to imposing monuments and statues. 
 
 I wonder which is the right impression. The motor- 
 ist, the hurried tourist, the caravans of curious that visit 
 it from Philadelphia in huge, sightseeing buses will, of 
 course, prefer it as it is to-day. But the pedestrian, the 
 poet, the dreamer of dreams, and the lover of "atmos- 
 phere" will sigh for the Valley Forge of years ago. 
 
 And truly, given its traditions and pathetic associa- 
 tions, it scarcely seems the place for pompous equestrian 
 statues, columns, and triumphal arches. Markers to 
 designate the placement of the various encampments — 
 well and good, and the more of them the better; but to 
 
 237 
 
REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 
 
 destroy the solemnity of these cheerless hills by bronzes 
 and marble monuments seems to me irrelevant and of 
 questionable taste. It is only too evident that the mo- 
 tives that prompted the erection of these memorials were 
 of the best ; the advice of a more enhghtened park com- 
 mission might have directed their activities toward a 
 better result. 
 
 Valley Forge is but an hour from Philadelphia by the 
 railroad. The train follows all the way along the Schuyl- 
 kill, which, at first, through the outer industrial districts 
 of the city, is harnessed by mills and factories, but later 
 flows free and placid between well-wooded hills. 
 
 Beyond East Falls we crossed the Wissahickon, whose 
 banks afford the favorite drive from Germantown; and 
 beyond Norristown we passed to the west bank of the 
 river and soon after drew up at the station of Valley 
 Forge — a station whose long colonnades suggested the 
 crowds that at times arrive here. 
 
 Luckily, the morning of my last visit I was almost 
 the only passenger to alight, so I wandered off quite by 
 myself. The railway-station stands very near the house 
 known as the Washington Headquarters. In it, prior to 
 the Revolution, dwelt Isaac Potts, who operated a forge 
 up the creek that here flows into the Schuylkill — the 
 Valley Creek, as it was called, whence the name Valley 
 Forge. 
 
 During the "hutting" of the troops Washington in- 
 sisted upon sharing their hardships by remaining with 
 them in liis marquee up on the slope of Mount Joy. 
 
 2SS 
 
ROUND ABOUT PHILADELPHIA 
 
 But when the soldiers were securely under shelter in their 
 log huts he took up his headquarters in this stout little 
 Potts house, substantially built of field stone, with solid 
 doors and window-shutters. He added a log cabin "to 
 
 
 The Old Potts House at V alley Forge 
 
 dine in, which has made our quarters much more tolera- 
 ble than they were at first," as Mrs. Washington, who 
 joined him later, writes to a friend. 
 
 And truly it was a small house for the commanding 
 general of an army — with but two little rooms on the 
 ground floor and two above, with a few steps leading 
 down to a kitchen and to the dining-room to which she 
 alludes. It is now kept in perfect repair; its old wood- 
 
 239 
 
REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 
 
 work and panelling have been scraped and freshly painted, 
 and it has been appropriately furnished in excellent taste 
 by the Norristown Chapter of the Daughters of the 
 American Revolution. 
 
 In the field near by the life-guard was quartered, and 
 beyond lay General Mcintosh's brigade. The main en- 
 campments, however, were much farther away, over on 
 the other slope of Mount Joy. 
 
 To visit these various camps you should follow up 
 the Valley Creek, a sombre and romantic stream that 
 on dark days runs so silently and so stealthily under 
 the overhanging branches that it recalls some tragic vale 
 in Dante. 
 
 Beyond the site of the forge and the spring, you reach 
 a covered bridge, at which you turn to the left up the 
 hill and soon come upon General Knox's quarters — a 
 farm now owned by Senator Knox. From this point 
 begins the long succession of encampments, each divi- 
 sion marked by one or more monuments. The first of 
 these is a monument to unknown soldiers; then one to 
 Baron von Steuben, taking the form of a portrait statue 
 erected by the German-American Alliance in 1915. Be- 
 yond it a reconstruction of one of the log huts designates 
 the site of the camp hospital. On the hill above you 
 catch a glimpse of Fort Washington. 
 
 The first troops along this line were those of Scott's 
 and Woodford's brigades; then came the Pennsylvanians 
 under General Anthony Wayne. A great equestrian 
 statue of this general here dominates the landscape, the 
 
 240 
 
ROUND ABOUT PHILADELPHIA 
 
 gallant Pennsylvanian turning in his saddle to gaze far 
 out across the broad Chester valley, here revealed for a 
 great distance, as if eagerly scanning its undulations in 
 quest of an approaching enemy. The intrenchments 
 that protected his division are still plainly visible in the 
 woods that skirt the road. 
 
 General Poor's command came next and completed 
 this first salient of intrenchments, for here the brow of 
 the hill deflects and, turning sharply backward, forms a 
 second fine nearer to the Schuylkill. The road turns 
 with it and passes, on the highest ground, a massive arch 
 erected by the United States Government — the Wash- 
 ington Memorial Arch, as it is called — inscribed with 
 Washington's own tribute to his men written in a letter 
 to Governor Chnton: "Naked and starving as they are, 
 we can not enough admire the incomparable patience 
 and fidehty of the soldiery." And surely every man 
 who passed that winter in Valley Forge, with its wretched 
 sicknesses and high mortahty, its hunger and its cold, was 
 a patriot of whom his descendants may well be proud. 
 
 Beyond the arch a phnth with a widely curving seat 
 serves as Massachusetts' tribute to her soldiers who occu- 
 pied this position under Glover and Learned. Patter- 
 son's, Weedon's, and Muhlenberg's divisions came next, 
 stretching from here down to the Schuylkill, where they 
 were flanked by a redoubt. 
 
 Instead of following this line, you should now return 
 to the arch and take the Old Gulch Road, that leads back 
 through the valley toward Washington's Headquarters. 
 
 241 
 
REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 
 
 Down in the hollow, you find the Camp School built in 
 1705. Though still furnished with its old desks and 
 benches ranged along the wall, and with the pegs for the 
 children's hats and coats, it is now a diminutive museum, 
 presided over by an aged veteran who triumphantly 
 points out, gathered about it, various trophies in the 
 shape of captured cannon. 
 
 From the Camp School you may ascend Mount Joy 
 and see the main redoubt, called Fort Washington, whose 
 parapets, now restored and set out with artillery, command 
 a splendid panorama of all the surrounding country. 
 Hence another hue of intrenclmaents leads down to the 
 Star Redoubt, that overlooked the Schuylkill and the 
 temporary bridge. We are now again near Washington's 
 Headquarters, and have completed our circuit of the 
 Revolutionary camp-ground. 
 
 View from Fort Huntington, Looking toward 
 Fort Washington 
 
 242 
 
ROUND ABOUT PHILADELPHIA 
 
 There are many more markers and monuments than 
 I have noted, but such is the main topography of the 
 camp at Valley Forge, whose hills are filled with memories 
 of the ardent patriots who passed that dreary winter there, 
 sleeping in the rude log huts 
 on bunks of straw — when 
 they could get it — for even 
 straw was a difficult tiling 
 to obtain and many died for 
 the lack of it. "Unprovided 
 with this, or materials to 
 raise them from the cold and 
 wet earth, sickness and mor- 
 taHty have spread through 
 their quarters in an aston- 
 ishing degree. Notliing can 
 equal their sufferings, except 
 the patience and fortitude 
 with which the faithful part 
 of the army endure it." * 
 
 This winter at Valley 
 Forge was probably the 
 
 most trying of Washington's hfe. The sufferings of his 
 soldiers touched him deeply and he endeavored in every 
 way to alleviate their distress. But the winter was a 
 bitter and a gloomy one and tried his fortitude to the 
 utmost. Isaac Potts relates that one day while wan- 
 dering in the woods near his forge he heard a voice. 
 
 * Report of the Committee of Arrangement of Congress. 
 243 
 
 Bell Used in Camp at Valley Forge 
 
REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 
 
 Silently advancing, he saw a horse tied to a tree, and 
 near it his venerated guest, kneeling upon the ground, 
 his eyes filled with tears, praying. Awed as if he had 
 intruded upon some holy scene, Potts quietly withdrew 
 and made his way back to his forge. This is the Wash- 
 ington that we must remember in our times of trouble 
 — not only the successful general and able President but 
 the man who knew how to face adversity and grapple 
 with it. 
 
 To add to his troubles, the "Conway cabal" came to 
 a climax in the middle of that winter. General Conway, 
 a schemer, by political intrigue and pressure upon Con- 
 gress, had tried to have Washington superseded as 
 commander-in-chief by Horatio Gates, whose brilliant 
 capture of Rurgoyne and his army (through no particu- 
 lar merit of his own) he contrasted with Washington's ill 
 success at the Rrandywine and Germantown. Wash- 
 ington boldly faced his critics, quietly winning most of 
 them over, so that Conway, in dudgeon, resigned his 
 commission as inspector-general of the army. To his 
 astonishment, this resignation was accepted, and the 
 Raron von Steuben, who had just arrived in America, 
 was appointed in his place. 
 
 Von Steuben quickly became the man of the hour. 
 "Officers and men ahke were placed under the rigid 
 training of this veteran martinet . . . ; and the effects 
 of his stern discipline and exacting drill were of per- 
 manent value." * 
 
 * Colonel Henry B. Carrington, "Battles of the Revolution." 
 !244 
 
ROUND ABOUT PHILADELPHIA 
 
 Here is a soldier's estimate of this patriot army, 
 written by one of its enemies, Captain Johann Heinrichs 
 of the Hessian Yager Corps, among whose letters to his 
 brother I find the following, dated Philadelphia, January 
 18, 1778: 
 
 "Nor is their standing army to be despised ... as 
 they are, per se, a brave nation, which bravery is sur- 
 prisingly enhanced by the enthusiasm, engendered by 
 falsehood and vagaries, which are drilled into them, so 
 that it but requires time and good leadership to make 
 them formidable. . . . 
 
 "The enemy is encamped in huts in Wilmington and 
 Valley Forge, and Washington and Stirling have wagered 
 as to who had the best huts erected. . . . Our army 
 x.y.z. strong, lies in Philadelphia, wliich is fortified by 
 eleven redoubts and one outpost; we are supphed with 
 all that is necessary and superfluous. Assembhes, Con- 
 certs, Comedies, Clubs and the hke make us forget there 
 is any war, save that it is a capital joke." 
 
 There are the two pictures. The ragged, shivering 
 Continentals, their feet wrapped in rags, borrowing from 
 each other the blankets in which they were to mount 
 guard — cold, hungry, but filled with patriotism, "their 
 bravery surprisingly enhanced by the enthusiasm engen- 
 dered by falsehood and vagaries," but benefiting by 
 "good leadership to make them formidable"; while the 
 British army was weakening itself in a life of indolence 
 and pleasure in snug Philadelphia, "supplied with all 
 that is necessary and superfluous," so that war was a 
 "capital joke." 
 
 245 
 
REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 
 
 But when the icy barriers broke and spring was in the 
 air a ray of hope dawned for the patriots — a gleam of 
 encouragement shot from across the sea. La Sejisible, 
 frigate, toward the first of May, anchored in Fahnouth 
 Harbor, Maine, and a French herald stepped ashore to 
 announce an armed alliance between his country and 
 the United States. 
 
 The news reached Valley Forge soon after, and one May 
 morning the ragged Continentals, their uniforms patched 
 and mended, were drawn up on parade. The treaty of 
 alliance was read from the head of the army ; the chap- 
 lains of each regiment advanced to the front of their 
 men and led them as "in solemn silence, the army at 
 Valley Forge united in thanksgiving to Almighty God 
 that he had given them one friend on earth." 
 
 Then, at a signal, thirteen cannon were fired, followed 
 by a running fire of musketry up and down the line, 
 and the whole army shouted: "Long live the King of 
 France!" Again the thirteen cannon, again the rattle 
 of musketry; then the cry: "Long live the friendly Eu- 
 ropean Powers!" A third and last discharge, and a 
 mighty shout: "The American Slates! ' 
 
 246 
 
PHILADELPHIA 
 
PHILADELPHIA 
 
 AS a contrast to this picture of Valley Forge it is 
 
 /% now my purpose to follow the British into Phila- 
 A^ JL delphia and depict some of the "Assemblies, 
 Concerts, Comedies, and Clubs" of which our Yager cap- 
 tain speaks^the gayeties of that winter when officers and 
 soldiers alike were welcomed and indulgently petted by 
 the rich Tories and neutral Quakers of the city. 
 
 But before we do this let us for a moment take a retro- 
 spective glance at the city, so as to see it as it then ap- 
 peared, and awake some of its memories. 
 
 At the time of the Revolution Philadelphia was just 
 beginning to grow into the plan that William Penn had 
 laid out for it. He had conceived that it would some 
 day centre, as it now does, where its two principal streets, 
 Broad and Market, cross each other. But, owing to the 
 commercial facilities of the Delaware River, the build- 
 ings, in colonial days, had all followed "along the Dela- 
 ware for the convenience of being near the warehouses 
 and shipping. Front Street, which is parallel with the 
 river, is near three miles long, and out of it open up- 
 wards of two hundred quays, forming so many vistas 
 terminated by vessels of different sizes."* 
 
 Market Street, then called High Street, was consid- 
 ered of great breadth and length, and "would be," ac- 
 
 * De Chastellux, "Travels in North America." 
 249 
 
REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 
 
 cording to a resident, "one of the finest streets in the 
 world, were it not for the market situated in the middle 
 of it; but the upper part is occupied by the houses of 
 opulent citizens and will in time become truly noble." 
 
 As I have said, the thickly populated section still 
 centred along the Delaware water-front, so that it is 
 down in that section of the city that we still find all the 
 landmarks of the days of the Revolution. 
 
 One of the most interesting reminders of this period 
 stands near the foot of Chestnut Street, between Third 
 and Fourth, in a narrow alley that opens between two 
 modern buildings, widening behind them into a sort of 
 square. Upon this little quadrangle faces Carpenter's 
 Hall, quite shut off from all the world nowadays by the 
 tall structures that surround it. Its facade of red brick 
 diapered with glazed black headers, its pediment, its 
 three arched windows above and simple but weU-pro- 
 portioned door below, flanked on either side by a shut- 
 tered window, all retain their original character intact. 
 
 Yet this modest building, so humble, so retiring, so 
 shyly tucked away from the bustle and traffic about it, 
 was, so to speak, the birthplace of our nation. For in 
 it, just prior to the Revolution, the first assemblage of 
 delegates from the American colonies convened to dis- 
 cuss their grievances against the mother country. 
 
 To this Congress came such men as the two Adamses 
 and Robert Treat Paine from Massachusetts; Eliphalet 
 Dyer, Roger Sherman, and Silas Deane from Connecticut; 
 John Jay, Isaac Low, and Philip Livingston from New 
 
 250 
 
PHILADELPHIA 
 
 York; Thomas Mifflin, Edward Biddle, and John Dickin- 
 son from Pennsylvania; Henry Middleton, the Rutledges, 
 and Christopher Gadsden from South Carohna; while 
 Virginia sent her favorite sons — Peyton Randolph, Rich- 
 ard Henry Lee, George Washington, Patrick Henry, 
 Benjamin Harrison, Edmund Pendleton, and Richard 
 Bland. 
 
 On the 5th of September, 1774, these delegates met in 
 Carpenter's Hall. The assembly-room, as we see it to- 
 day, remains quite as these fathers of our country be- 
 held it — a large, bare chamber, buff in color, whose only 
 arcliitectural embelhshments are the two Ionic columns 
 that form a sort of screen before the alcove opposite the 
 entrance door. The walls are hung with the souvenirs 
 
 / ' 
 
 The Assembly Room, Carpenter's Hall 
 
 !251 
 
REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 
 
 and photographs that form the precious heritage of the 
 Carpenters' Company, that still uses the building as its 
 headquarters. Some of the original Windsor chairs stand 
 behind a railing and the speaker's desk has been placed 
 just where it used to stand when this first Continental 
 Congress convened. 
 
 So the picture can become quite vivid if you sit quietly 
 in a corner and call it to mind. 
 
 There, at the speaker's table, sat Peyton Randolph of 
 Virginia, then in his fiftieth year, with Charles Thomson 
 of Pennsylvania, the secretary, beside him — a "meagre 
 figure, with hollow eye and white hair that did not fall 
 quite so low as his ears." Ranged round the walls in 
 their straight Windsor chairs sat the other fifty-three 
 delegates — the best men that the colonies had to give, 
 "a collection of the greatest men upon this continent in 
 point of abihties, virtues, and fortunes," as John Adams 
 expressed it. 
 
 The first sitting was occupied with routine and the 
 presentation of credentials. At the second sitting came 
 a pause. What was to be done ? Who would open that 
 grave debate.'^ No one seemed disposed to start so mo- 
 mentous a discussion. Then a quiet-looking, serious mem- 
 ber arose, dressed in sober black, wearing an unpowdered 
 wig, with, perhaps, his spectacles thrown up upon his 
 forehead, as Sully afterward painted him — so simple a 
 figure, so unostentatious, that the question rose to every 
 lip: "WTio is heP" And the word went round, "Patrick 
 Henry of Virginia" — he who had electrified the entire 
 
 252 
 
PHILADELPHIA 
 
 country a few months before with his ringing words: 
 "Give me hberty or give me death !" 
 
 Dehberately he began to recite the wrongs inflicted 
 upon the colonies; dehberately he declared all govern- 
 ment dissolved and that a new one should be formed. 
 He discussed the representation of each colony in the Con- 
 tinental Congress, allotting to each delegates in propor- 
 tion to its population, and he concluded by declaring 
 that all boundaries were now effaced: "The distinctions 
 between Virginians, Pennsylvanians, New Yorkers and 
 New Englanders are no more. I am not a Virginian, but 
 an American." 
 
 The discussion was now begun ; various members spoke, 
 and John Jay, dissenting from Patrick Henry's conclu- 
 sions, exclaimed: "I cannot yet think that we came to 
 frame an American constitution, instead of endeavoring 
 to correct the faults in an old one. The measure of ar- 
 bitrary power is not full, and it must run over before 
 we undertake to frame a new constitution." 
 
 On the 7th of September news of serious clashes be- 
 tween General Gage and the people of Boston reached 
 the Congress, as it opened its session with prayer. The 
 Reverend Mr. Duche read the Psalter for that day, a part 
 of which happened to be the thirty -fifth Psalm of David, 
 and John Adams wrote his wife: " It seemed as if Heaven 
 had ordained that Psalm to be read that morning. ' ' These 
 are a portion of its strangely prophetic words: 
 
 "Plead my cause, Lord, with them that strive with 
 me; and fight thou against them that fight against me. 
 
 253 
 
REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 
 
 . . . Take hold of shield and buckler, and stand up for 
 mine help. Draw out also the spear and stop the way 
 against them that persecute me. 
 
 "Who is like unto thee, which deliverest the poor from 
 him that is too strong for him; yea, the poor and needy 
 from him that spoileth him.^" 
 
 Then the minister, unexpectedly to everybody, launched 
 into an extemporaneous prayer "for the Congress, for 
 the province of Massachusetts Bay, and especially for 
 the town of Boston." "I must confess, I never heard 
 a better prayer or one so well pronounced," says Adams. 
 Members of all denominations joined in it fervently, but 
 Bishop White, who was present, tells us that George 
 Washington was the only member to kneel. 
 
 But a short way farther up Chestnut Street stands Inde- 
 pendence Hall — the old State House — historically, at least, 
 the most interesting and evocative building in the city. 
 Little by little, during recent years, it has undergone a 
 thorough restoration, so that it now stands quite as the 
 old prints depict it in Revolutionary times. I present 
 the drawing that I made of it some years ago. The cen- 
 tral or main building remains as it is shown, but since 
 then the end pavihons have been restored to their sim- 
 pler form, the small domes have been removed, and the 
 arcades between them and the main building replaced. 
 As it now stands the edifice is a splendid example of our 
 sturdy colonial architecture, typical of the stanch simplic- 
 ity of the men who built it. 
 
 Upon entering you find yourself at once in a spacious 
 
 254 
 
PHILADELPHIA 
 
 haU, whose fluted columns, panels, and cornices, vigorous 
 in detail and simple in design, accord well with the spirit 
 of the age in which they were built — honest, devoid of 
 
 
 lel? 
 
 
 ■7h 
 
 Indepcndence Halt, Chestnut Street Front 
 
 
 
 needless ornament, with no unnecessary carving or gild- 
 ing. Such was the good taste of the epoch. 
 
 Through an archway opposite you catch a ghmpse of 
 the old Liberty Bell, whose voice proclaimed to the wait- 
 ing multitude the ratification of the Declaration of In- 
 dependence. The arch to the right gives access to the 
 supreme-court room, with its bench for the justices still 
 
REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 
 
 in place and their serene faces, honestly painted, looking 
 down from the walls. The arch to the left leads into the 
 Declaration Chamber, as it is now called. 
 
 Like the remainder of the building, this is in simple 
 but excellent taste, dignified yet free from ostentation. 
 Pilasters divide its walls into large equal compartments; 
 spacious windows, both front and rear, give upon the 
 street and upon the park that lies behind the building. 
 A handsome crystal lustre is the room's only luxury. 
 
 The original speaker's chair, with his desk and his ink- 
 well, stands upon a dais at the far end of the room. 
 Over the desk hangs a facsimile of the immortal docu- 
 ment that was signed upon it. During the momentous 
 sessions of the summer of 1776 this chair was occupied 
 by John Hancock of Boston — then a vigorous young man 
 of forty, in appearance as Copley painted him, his fine, 
 firm features framed in an uncurled wig and white neck- 
 cloth. Beside him, at the secretary's desk, sat Charles 
 Thomson, whom we have already met in Carpenter's 
 Hall. The other delegates were seated in leather chairs, 
 about twenty of which are still ranged around the walls 
 marked with the names of the men who occupied them. 
 
 On the 2d of July, 1776, the Continental Congress, 
 convened in this room with forty-nine members present, 
 voted, without a dissenting voice, "that these united col- 
 onies are, and of right ought to be, free and independent 
 states; that they are absolved from aU allegiance to the 
 British crown, and that all political connection between 
 them and the state of Great Britain is, and ought to be, 
 
 256 
 
PHILADELPHIA 
 
 dissolved." Two days later it ratified the Declaration 
 of Independence. 
 
 The precious original document is preserved among the 
 
 ^^^ 
 
 
 A,- ynr^'^'jx.jf^ 
 
 m^ 
 
 j^^C 
 
 Room in Which the Declaration of Independence was Signed 
 
 archives of the State Department in Washington, badly 
 faded owing to a mishap in making a copy of it. 
 
 In tliis same State Department hbrary I found the 
 original draft of the Declaration in Thomas Jefferson's 
 own handwriting, clear and manful as his firm words 
 and thoughts. It shows some shght alterations and re- 
 
 257 
 
REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 
 
 visions, made when it was submitted to two of the 
 other members of the committee, Benjamin Frankhn 
 and John Adams, whose interhneations are thus plainly 
 
 '■'I ' ' - ' I 
 View of Independence Hall from the Park Side 
 
 marked: =Dr. Franklin's handwriting; * Mr. Adams's 
 handwriting. 
 
 In this library also is a letter written by Thomas 
 Jefferson that will interest us in this connection. It Hes 
 in a case beside his writing-case and is dated "Monticello, 
 Sept. 16, '25." In answer to an inquiry he replies: 
 
 258 
 
PHILADELPHIA 
 
 ,^T 
 
 "At the time of writing that instrument (the Declara- 
 tion of Independence) I lodged in the house of a Mr. 
 Graaf, a new brick house three stories high of which I 
 rented the second floor consisting of parlour, bed-room 
 ready furnished; in that parlour I wrote habitually and 
 in it wrote this paper particularly. . . . The proprietor 
 Graaf, was a young man, son of a German and then newly 
 married. I think he was a bricklayer and that his house 
 was on the south side of Market Street probably between 
 Seventh and Eighth." 
 
 The news of the ratifica- 
 tion of the Declaration of In- 
 dependence was announced 
 to the people, as I have said, 
 by the ringing of the bell 
 in the State House steeple, 
 Tliis historic Liberty Bell — 
 the bell so portentously in- 
 scribed with a line from the 
 Scriptures, "Proclaim lib- 
 erty throughout all the land, 
 unto all the inhabitants 
 thereof" — is now placed at 
 the back of the hallway in 
 the stair-well. Now no 
 longer does it swing aloft, 
 but, cracked and voiceless 
 in its ripe old age, reposes 
 comfortably and peacefully 
 on sohd ground. 
 
 Stairway in Independence Hall 
 
 259 
 
REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 
 
 The main stairs lead you up to the banquet-haU, that 
 extends across the entire front of the building. In its 
 day it saw many notable gatherings, such as a dimier of 
 three hundred covers given by leading citizens to cele- 
 brate the repeal of the Stamp Act, and another to wel- 
 come the delegates to the First Continental Congress. 
 In rooms adjoining hang portraits of many of the gentle- 
 men who banqueted at its tables, or sat in deliberation 
 in the rooms below — patriots, merchants, bankers, ju- 
 rists, and the generals whose campaigns we have been 
 following: Greene, Gates, Lincoln, and Knox; handsome 
 Anthony Wayne, courtly Schuyler, blue-eyed, ruddy 
 Daniel Morgan; and the Southerners: bold Marion, the 
 Pinckneys of Charleston, and Colonel William Washing- 
 ton, whose exploits we shall review later on; while from 
 still another group look down the foreign officers — La- 
 fayette, Rochambeau, de Grasse, Steuben, Pulaski, and 
 Kosciusko — who aided us to success. 
 
 Philadelphia is particularly rich in these historic por- 
 traits. Over in the rooms of the Historical Society of 
 Pennsylvania hangs another fine collection of them — 
 pictures of even higher artistic merit than those in In- 
 dependence Hall. In cases there are also many interest- 
 ing mementos of Revolutionary days, such as Franklin's 
 punch-keg, Robert Morris's strong box, beautifully bound 
 in brass (but, oh, how small for a multimilhonaire !), rare 
 prints, and books rarer still, and in a corner of the gallery 
 cork models of some of the historic houses that have disap- 
 peared : the old court-house, squatting on its stout arcades ; 
 
 260 
 
PHILADELPHIA 
 
 "Loxley's House," that used to stand in South Second 
 Street and in which dwelt brave Lydia Darrach, who 
 apprised Washington of the intended attack at White- 
 marsh; the famous "Slate Roof House," once occupied 
 by William Penn ; and General Howe's headquarters that 
 used to stand in High Street (now Market) near Sixth. 
 
 Philadelphia still retains one old house that is the ob- 
 ject of many a pious pilgrimage — a little two-story affair 
 about jBfteen feet wide, 
 with but a single dormer 
 in its roof — squeezed in 
 between a number of 
 structures of more recent 
 date down on Arch Street, 
 near the river. Well-au- 
 thenticated tradition has 
 it that here Betsy Ross 
 made the first American 
 flag. 
 
 Up to the first day of 
 January, 1776, there had 
 been no regular emblem 
 for the revolted colonies. 
 Upon that New Year's 
 Day a flag of thirteen 
 stripes — the "rebelhous 
 stripes" — but still retain- 
 ing the British union in 
 
 its corner, was unfurled The Betsy Ross House 
 
 261 
 
REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 
 
 at the head of the newly organized Continental Army at 
 Cambridge; but it was not until June 14, 1777, that Con- 
 gress took definite action and resolved "that the flag of 
 the thirteen United States be thirteen stripes alternate 
 red and white; that the Union be thirteen stars, white 
 in a blue field, representing a new constellation." 
 
 Betsy's husband, George Ross, was a lawyer, a signer 
 of the Declaration, and a member of tliis Congress, and 
 tradition depicts him and his wife receiving George 
 Wasliington and Robert Morris in the little back room 
 of the "Betsy Ross house," near the old fireplace with 
 its blue tiles, to show them the first flag made according 
 to the terms of this resolution. 
 
 In an up-stairs room of the Jumel Mansion in New 
 York (see page 165) hangs a patched piece of toile de 
 Joiiy. or printed calico, stamped with a curious allegory, 
 presumably of French fabrication and closely tied to the 
 design of this first American flag, perhaps a precursor of 
 it. My attention was called to it by the curator, who 
 shares this opinion. As is usual in such prints, the de- 
 sign is made by two scenes used alternately. One de- 
 picts Washington, standing in a chariot beside a figure 
 bearing Mercury's wand and showing upon her shield the 
 inscription, "American Independence, 1776." The chariot 
 is drawn by leopards led by Indian boys blowing trumpets, 
 from which depend two flags — one the Serpent Flag of 
 Maryland, the other a flag of thirteen stripes. The 
 second scene shows Franklin, accompanied by Liberty, 
 bearing an inscription, "Where Liberty dwells, there is 
 
 262 
 
PHILADELPHIA 
 
 my country," and guided toward a Temple of Fame by a 
 figure of War, whose shield is painted with thirteen stars, 
 the "new constellation." Thus, in the union of the two 
 scenes the original Stars and Stripes appear. 
 
 There is another picture closely wedded to Franklin 
 and his family that I wish now to present — also a French 
 interpretation, written for us by the Marquis de Chastel- 
 lux, who was taken about in Philadelphia, toward the 
 close of the Revolution, to see its people and its sights. 
 
 "First we began by visiting Mrs. Bache. She merits 
 all the airxiety we had to see her, for she is the daughter 
 of Mr. Franklin. Simple in her manners, Hke her re- 
 spectable father, she possesses liis benevolence. She con- 
 ducted us into a room filled with work, lately finished by 
 the ladies of Pliiladelphia. This work consisted neither 
 of embroidered tambour waistcoats, nor network edgings, 
 nor of gold and silver brocade — it was a quantity of shirts 
 for the soldiers of Pennsylvania. The ladies bought the 
 linen from their private purses, and took a pleasure in 
 cutting them out and sewing them themselves. On each 
 shirt was the name of the married or unmarried lady who 
 made it, and they amounted to twenty two hundred."* 
 
 Does this sound hke a picture of a century or more 
 ago or one of yesterday ? 
 
 During the British occupation (and this brings us back 
 to the main thread of our narrative) Benjamin Franklin's 
 house, that stood in a court off High Street, was occupied 
 by Major, then Captain, Andre, whose tragic fate we have 
 
 * "Travels in North America." 
 263 
 
REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 
 
 witnessed at Tappan. He was a brilliant officer, a charm- 
 ing gentleman and a dilettante, expressing himself with 
 facility and fehcity in all the arts. Frankhn's daughter, 
 the Mrs. Bache above referred to, writes to her father in 
 Paris after Andre's departm:'e: 
 
 "I found your house and furniture, upon my return 
 to town in much better order than I had reason to expect 
 from the hands of such a rapacious crew. They stole 
 and carried off with them some of your musical instru- 
 ments, viz., a Welsh harp, a ball harp, a set of tuned 
 bells which were in a box, a viol-da-gamba, all the spare 
 armonica glasses and one or two spare cases. Your 
 armoiiica* is safe. They took hkewise the few books that 
 were left behind, the chief of which were Temple's school- 
 books and the History of the Arts and Sciences in French 
 which is a great loss to the pubhc. Some of your elec- 
 tric apparatus is missing; also a Captain Andre took 
 with liim a picture of you which hung in the dining room." 
 
 Artistic robbers, certainly, these pilferers who stole 
 harps and violins, rare books and historic portraits — 
 thieves of refinement ! 
 
 Not all the inliabitants of Philadelpliia fared as well, 
 for the British officers were indeed a "rapacious crew." 
 General Howe "seized and kept for his own use, Mary 
 Pemberton's coach and horses in which he used to ride 
 
 * These old musical instruments, first introduced by Benjamin Franklin, 
 are to be seen in museums, and I have heard them played on several occa- 
 sions. Kindly Miss Custis played a set of these "musical glasses" for me 
 in her home in Williamsburg, tuning them with water to the right note, 
 and then playing them by passing the wet finger round the edges. 
 
 264 
 
PHILADELPHIA 
 
 about town." * The officers, quartered upon the in- 
 habitants, spent their days in gambhng and other equally 
 profitable pastimes, aiid their nights at entertainments. 
 "By a proportionate tax on the pay and allowances of 
 each officer, a house was opened for daily resort and 
 weekly balls, with a gaming-table and a room devoted 
 to the players of chess." Three times a week plays were 
 enacted by the officers, and Major Andre and Captain 
 Delancey were the chief scene-painters, the former's 
 waterfall curtain remaining in the Southwark Theatre 
 until that building was torn down. The younger officers, 
 following the example of some of the older ones, played 
 for heavy stakes and openly gave way to their vices, 
 two of them impudently advertising in a paper for "a 
 young woman, to act in capacity of housekeeper. Ex- 
 travagant wages will be given and no character required." 
 
 With the spring came news of Sir William Howe's 
 recall to England. As "he was much beloved by his 
 officers and soldiers for his generosity and affability," 
 his departure was viewed as notliing short of a calamity. 
 So a great fete was plaiuied as a testimonial of tliis devo- 
 tion of the army to its general — a festival the most 
 elaborate that America had witnessed up to that time, 
 whose extravagance was severely criticised by both 
 Wliigs and Tories and did much to ahenate sympathy 
 from the British cause. 
 
 Major Andre, who took a prominent part in its or- 
 ganization, wrote a long description of it to a friend 
 
 * Watson's "Annals of Philadelphia." 
 265 
 
REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 
 
 in England, and his letter was published in the "London 
 Annual Register," in 1778. It is too long to quote in 
 extenso, but I shall append some of the salient passages 
 of this, his description of the " Mischianza, " or Italian 
 medley, as it was called. 
 
 "A grand regatta [on the Delaware] began the enter- 
 tainment. It consisted of three divisions. In the first 
 was the Ferret galley, with Sir Wilhani and Lord Howe, 
 Sir Henry Clinton,* the officers of their suites and some 
 ladies. The Cornwallis galley brought up the rear, having 
 on board General Knyphausen and his suite, three British 
 generals and a party of ladies. On each quarter of these 
 galleys, and forming their division, were five flat boats, 
 lined with green cloth, and filled with ladies and gentle- 
 men. In front of the whole were three flat boats with a 
 band of music in each. Six barges rowed about each 
 flank, to keep off the swarm of boats that crossed the 
 river from side to side. The galleys were dressed out in a 
 variety of colors and streamers. In the stream opposite 
 the center of the city, the Fanny, armed ship, magnifi- 
 cently decorated, was placed at anchor, and at some 
 distance ahead lay his majesty's ship Roebuck, with 
 the admiral's flag hoisted at the fore- topmast head. The 
 transport-ships, extending in a line the whole length of 
 the town, appeared with colors flying, and crowded with 
 spectators, exhibiting the most picturesque and enliven- 
 ing scene the eye could desire." 
 
 This water pageant started at the foot of Vine Street, 
 passing southward, "keeping time to the music that led 
 
 * Who had just been appointed to succeed General Howe as commander- 
 in-chief. 
 
 266 
 
PHILADELPHIA 
 
 the fleet," to the foot of Market Street, and there halted 
 while the bands played "God Save the King" and cheers 
 were given. The guests then landed "a little to the south- 
 ward of the town, fronting a building," the old Wharton 
 Mansion that stood well back from the river, between 
 which and it stretched a stately garden. 
 
 "The company as they disembarked arranged them- 
 selves in line of procession and advanced through an 
 avenue formed by two files of grenadiers, and a line of 
 light horse supporting each file. Tliis avenue led to a 
 square lawn, fined with troops and properly prepared 
 for the exhibition of a tilt and tournament according to 
 the customs and ordinance of ancient chivalry. . . . 
 Two paviUons received the ladies while the gentlemen 
 arranged themselves in convenient order at each side. 
 
 "On the front seat of each pavilion were placed seven 
 of the principal young ladies of the country, dressed in 
 Turkish habits and wearing in their turbans the favors 
 of the knights who were to contend in their honor." 
 
 The knights then entered in two companies, those of 
 the Blended Rose and those of the Burning Mountain. 
 Among the former was Andre himself, appearing in 
 honor of Miss Peggy Chew, and with him was Lieutenant 
 Sloper, who appeared in honor of Miss Margaret Ship- 
 pen, who afterward married Benedict Arnold. 
 
 After the tournament, with its splintering of lances 
 and encounters with swords, a passage was opened and 
 the company proceeded toward the house through two 
 triumphal arches, erected in honor of the two brothers, 
 the general and the admiral, along an avenue lined with 
 
 267 
 
REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 
 
 troops, and enlivened with "the colors of all the army 
 planted at proper distances." They then entered the 
 house, where refreshments were served, the "windows 
 were thrown open and a magnificent bouquet of rockets 
 began the fireworks," These included wonderful de- 
 vices, designed by Captain Montressor, chief engineer. 
 The arches were illuminated, and Fame appeared on top 
 of one of them and blew from her trumpet the inscrip- 
 tion, "Leurs Lauriers sont Immortels." 
 
 "At twelve supper was announced, and large folding 
 doors, hitherto artfully concealed, being suddenly thrown 
 open, disclosed a magnificent saloon of two hundred and 
 ten feet by forty, and twenty two feet in height, with 
 three alcoves on each side, which served for sideboards. 
 . . . Fifty six large pier-glasses, ornamented with green 
 silk artificial flowers and ribbons; a hundred branches 
 with three lights in each; eighteen lustres, each with 
 twenty four lights, suspended from the ceiling; three 
 hundred wax tapers disposed along the supper tables; 
 430 covers; 1,200 dishes, twenty four black slaves in 
 Oriental dresses, with silver collars and bracelets, arranged 
 in two hnes, and bending to the ground as the general 
 and admiral approached the saloon; all these, forming to- 
 gether the most brilliant assemblage of gay objects, and 
 appearing at once as we entered by an easy descent, ex- 
 hibited a coup d'oeil beyond description magnificent. . . . 
 After supper we returned to the ball-room and continued 
 to dance till four o'clock. 
 
 "Such, my friend, is a description, though a faint one, 
 of the most splendid entertainment, I believe, ever given 
 by an army to their general. ..." 
 
 268 
 
PHILADELPHIA 
 
 Truly, a fete to be remembered and talked about, es- 
 pecially in those simple colonial times! But the "Mis- 
 cliianza" was the Belshazzar's feast of the British. Soon 
 after it General Howe boarded his brother's flagship, the 
 Eagle, and later sailed for England. 
 
 It then became known that the home govermnent 
 had resolved upon the evacuation of Philadelphia as a 
 military necessity, for reinforcements sufficiently large 
 to hold it could not be sent. The Tories of the city were 
 dismayed at the news and, not daring to face their irate 
 patriot neighbors after their winter revels with the 
 British officers, packed up their belongings and prepared 
 to flee with the army and go as exiles to New York. 
 
 At three in the morning of the 18th of June, a warm 
 summer night, Sir Henry Clinton began to move his 
 army across the Delaware, and by ten in the morning 
 his entire force of seventeen thousand men was safely 
 over on the New Jersey shore. He marched by way of 
 Mount Holly and Crosswicks to AUentown, where, fear- 
 ing danger in crossing the Raritan River, he decided to 
 proceed by way of Momnouth to Sandy Hook and thence 
 to New York. 
 
 Washington had been watching him and, despite ad- 
 verse criticism among his generals, started in pursuit, 
 crossing the Delaware above Trenton and marching via 
 Princeton to Englishtown, where he overtook him and 
 gave battle at Monmouth, an inconclusive action whose 
 episodes we shall not follow here. 
 
 269 
 
CAMPAIGNS IN THE CAROLINAS 
 
CAMPAIGNS IN THE CAROLINAS 
 
 CHARLESTON 
 
 INSTEAD of remaining inactive in New York during 
 the winter of 1779-80 the new British commander-in- 
 chief, Sir Henry CHnton, decided to sail for the 
 South, for, says Colonel Tarleton, who accompanied him, 
 "the richness of the country, its vicinity to Georgia (a 
 loyalist state) and its distance from General Washington, 
 pointed out the advantages and facility of its conquest." 
 So transportation was provided for eighty-five hundred 
 men, and these were convoyed by a proud fleet under 
 Admiral Arbuthnot. New York harbor was safely cleared 
 on the day after Christmas, and for a while, despite the 
 season of the year, favorable weather was encountered. 
 But then a series of storms set in, and the ships were 
 separated and buffeted at sea during the entire month 
 of January. While they are beating about in the At- 
 lantic let us hasten ahead of them and look at the city 
 for which they were bound. 
 
 Charleston, to my mind, retains more of the atmos- 
 phere of Revolutionary days than any other of our larger 
 cities. Its old-fashioned main street; its narrow thor- 
 oughfares neatly paved with brick; its homesteads, 
 
 273 
 
REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 
 
 shut behind high walls, many of them still occupied by 
 descendants of the old colonial families, give it an air 
 of distinction — an aspect quite different from that of the 
 busthng cities of the North; while its fragrant Old World 
 gardens, overgrown with honeysuckle and jasmine and 
 rippling with the notes of the mocking-bird and the 
 purple grackle, lend to it a particular charm rare indeed 
 in the newer American communities. 
 
 Along the Battery and in the neighboring streets — 
 King, Broad, and Tradd — many of the old houses are 
 still furnished as they were a century ago. Upon a re- 
 cent visit I went to one of them — the Pringle House, per- 
 haps the most perfect of them all — to see the present- 
 day descendant of the family that has always occupied 
 it — an elderly lady of quite another age, fitting perfectly 
 into her surroundings, enhancing by her presence the 
 dignified old rooms panelled in wood, the handsome 
 English furniture and the family portraits that look 
 down from the walls, beginning with Miles Bruton, 
 builder of the house, and his daughter, the heroic Rebecca 
 Motte, and progressing through a succession of jurists 
 and statesmen and ladies in panniers to men in the black 
 neckcloths and broadcloth coats of our grandfathers. 
 
 In one of the rooms a friend, who was taking me about, 
 and who had occupied this particular apartment for 
 twenty-one years, led me over to the chinmeypiece and, 
 pointing to a slab of black marble fitted in under the 
 mantel-shelf, asked what I saw there. At first I could 
 detect nothing at all, but on getting in a certain light I 
 
 274 
 
CAMPAIGNS IN THE CAROLINAS 
 
 could discern, quite plainly, a full-rigged frigate under 
 sail, scratched with a diamond, Uke a sgrafEtto, upon the 
 polished surface. Again my companion asked: "And 
 what more can you see?" Then I made out the profile 
 of a British officer in powdered wig and regimentals, and 
 
 r.c, p,.xoV\>. 
 
 The Pringle Hoxtse, Charleston 
 
 my friend explained: "We call him Sir Henry Clinton; 
 you know this house was headquarters during the British 
 occupation." 
 
 With this rare companion and several others I explored 
 the nooks and corners of the old city (and that is a long 
 story), and at the Southern Club listened to its history 
 told by the men who know it best. 
 
 One afternoon we motored out to St. James Goosecreek 
 to see the old church and the Middleton estates near by. 
 
 275 
 
REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 
 
 St. James' was built in 1713. It still stands quite alone 
 in the pine-woods, in a most romantic spot, with ancient 
 slate gravestones set about it and trees, pendent with 
 moss, shading its old brick walls. Inside, too, the 
 church has never changed. The white pilasters, the 
 balcony with the hatchments of the Izards, the wall 
 tombs that date back to the building of the church, the 
 pews with their high wainscots — all are as they ever have 
 been, even to the great carved lion and unicorn that 
 still hold the royal arms of England over the high altar. 
 The sight of this coat of arms, so surprising to find, 
 recalled to my mind one of Garden's anecdotes, an inci- 
 dent that happened during the early days of the Revo- 
 lution in this very church. The min- 
 ister, 
 
 "the Reverend Mr. Ellington, in the 
 course of service, praying, 'That it 
 may please thee to bless and preserve 
 his most gracious Majesty, our Sover- 
 eign Lord King George,' a dead silence 
 ensued and, instead of the 
 .; usual response, 'We beseech 
 thee to hear us, good Lord' 
 a murmuring voice pro- 
 nounced, 'Good Lord, de- 
 hver us.'" 
 
 In the very heart of 
 Charleston, where Broad 
 
 St. Michael's Church '' Street intcrsccts Meeting, 
 
 276 
 
CAMPAIGNS IN THE CAROLINAS 
 
 stands St. Michael's, perhaps the most successful and im- 
 posing colonial church in our country. Its chimes, that 
 have pealed over the city and regulated its life for a cen- 
 
 
 Statue of William Pitt, Charleston 
 
 tury and a half; its old pews inscribed with the same 
 names they have borne for many generations; its organ, 
 now played, I am told, by a descendant of its maker — 
 John Snetzler fecit, Londini, 1767, as he signs himself 
 upon it; the brass chandelier with its forty-odd hghts, 
 are all there to attest its antiquity as well as the good 
 
 277 
 
REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 
 
 taste of its builders, while its spire is still, as it ever has 
 been, 
 
 "The guardian beacon of our coast 
 
 The seaman's hope when waves are wild." 
 
 Almost within its shadow, in a green square across the 
 way, stands a curious relic of the past — ^a marble statue 
 of the elder Pitt draped as a Roman and armless as the 
 Venus of Milo. Its pedestal bears this inscription: 
 
 In grateful memory 
 
 of his services to his country in general 
 
 and to America in particular 
 
 The Commons House of Assembly 
 
 of South Carolina 
 
 unanimously voted 
 
 this statue 
 
 of 
 
 The Right Honorable William Pitt, Esqr 
 
 who 
 
 gloriously exerted himself 
 
 in defending the freedom of Americans 
 
 the true sons of England 
 
 by promoting a repeal 
 
 of the Stamp Act 
 
 in the year 1766. 
 
 Time shall sooner destroy this mark of their esteem 
 
 Than erase from their minds their just sense of his patriotic 
 
 virtues. 
 
 This statue originally stood at the intersection of the 
 two main streets — Rroad and Meeting. Its right arm 
 
 278 
 
CAMPAIGNS IN THE CAROLINAS 
 
 was carried off by a cannon-ball during the siege of 1780; 
 later it was pulled down and consigned to oblivion (Time 
 having destroyed their just sense of his virtues) ; then it 
 was resurrected and placed before the Orphanage, and 
 finally, in 1881, it was moved back again near its original 
 situation. It remains one of the few statues dating from 
 colonial times that I know of in our country. 
 
 At the outbreak of the Revolution, the Charlestonians 
 quickly sided with the patriot cause. On the day follow- 
 ing the skirmish at Lexington, some of the citizens seized 
 all the powder in the city. In September, 1775, Colonel 
 William Moultrie drove the garrison from Sullivan's 
 Island and took possession of the fort at the mouth of 
 the harbor. The British governor, Lord William Camp- 
 bell, fled from his mansion, still standing down in Meet- 
 ing Street, and went on board of one of the King's ships 
 that lay in the harbor. 
 
 In March, 1776, intelligence reached the city that a 
 British fleet, under Sir Peter Parker, was under way to 
 attack it. Colonel Moultrie, in all haste, started to build 
 a new fort on Sullivan's Island, and this was but half 
 finished when Parker's ships dropped anchor to the north 
 of Charleston bar. Divided counsels among the British 
 commanders, coupled with adverse weather conditions, 
 prevented an attack until somewhat later. 
 
 This gave the patriots an opportunity to work, which 
 they embraced with feverish activity. The city's defenses 
 were strengthened, while Moultrie energetically pushed 
 work on his fort, at that time called Fort Sullivan, but 
 
 £79 
 
REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 
 
 ever since known, from its gallant defender, as Fort 
 Moultrie. It was a square with bastions at each corner, 
 made of palmetto logs strongly reinforced with sand. 
 
 Before we watch the battle that ensued, one of the 
 most spectacular of the war, let us take a look at the 
 topography of Charleston Harbor. To the right of the 
 
 Charleston Harbor 
 
 entrance is a sandy island grown over with thickets and 
 clumps of palmettos; this has always been known as 
 Sullivan's Island. Beyond it, to the north, lies a larger 
 island, then called Long Island but now known as the 
 Isle of Palms. On the opposite side of the entrance is a 
 large tract of land called James Island. Between it and 
 Sullivan's, quite in the entrance itself, lies an islet whereon 
 stands Fort Sumter (also fraught with memories, but of 
 
 280 
 
CAMPAIGNS IN THE CAROLINAS 
 
 another period), which forms the only visible part of a 
 long shoal known as the Middle Shoal. Between this 
 shoal and Fort Moultrie is the only channel deep enough 
 to admit large ships, so that this fortress is really the key 
 to the harbor. 
 
 Now let us take the ferry to Mount Pleasant. If we 
 do this in the cool of a summer morning we shall find 
 children in throngs, with their mothers and nurse- 
 maids, going for a day's outing on the beach at the Isle 
 of Palms. As we follow the channel round the end of 
 Shute's Folly, we enjoy a series of fine retrospects of the 
 old city strung along its wharfs, its slender church 
 spires— St. Michael's, St. Phillip's, and others— still main- 
 taining their ascendency over the temples of Maimnon 
 that now overtop and dwarf the steeples of most of our 
 American cities. There, too, stands the old Exchange 
 or Custom House (where the Provincial Congress met in 
 1774, "setting up the first independent government in 
 America," as its tablet records), covered with pink stucco, 
 its colonnade facing the water-front and overlooking the 
 bay, just as Leitch depicts it in his engraving of the city 
 made in 1780. 
 
 From Mount Pleasant the Isle of Palms trolley took 
 me through the village and along the shore to a long 
 viaduct built across the channel that separates Sullivan's 
 Island from the mainland at the very point where Gen- 
 eral Lee ordered Moultrie to build a bridge by which he 
 might retreat in case of a disaster. This order Moultrie 
 ignored, for, says he in his "Memoirs": "I never was 
 
 281 
 
REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 
 
 uneasy on not having a retreat, because I never imagined 
 the enemy could force me to that necessity." 
 
 I now found myself upon the island, long, low, and 
 sandy, and to-day sparsely built over with summer 
 resorts and homes, set in Southern-looking gardens. But 
 the principal buildings are still the barracks and quarters 
 that cluster round Fort Moultrie. Brick bastions now 
 replace those of palmetto logs, but the emplacement is 
 the same. New batteries with up-to-date guns have been 
 built along the shore beyond, but the sentries still watch 
 the sea as Moultrie did on that cloudless June morning 
 of '76. 
 
 His observant eye, on the 28th, assured him that the 
 expected attack was coming, and he quickly made his 
 preparations. Says he in his "Memoirs": 
 
 Cv>1^ 
 
 4.7 
 
 Forf Moultrie 
 
 282 
 
CAMPAIGNS IN THE CAROLINAS 
 
 " I hurried back to the fort as soon as possible. When 
 I got there I found that the ships were already under 
 sail. I immediately ordered the long roll to beat and 
 officers and men to their posts, when the ships came sail- 
 ing up, as if in confidence of victory. We had scarcely 
 manned our guns. They were soon abreast of the fort, let 
 go their anchors and began their attack most furiously." 
 
 This was near eleven o'clock. First came the Solebay 
 of twenty-eight guns, then the big Experiment of fifty; 
 next the Bristol, the flag-ship, with the commodore. Sir 
 Peter Parker, and the royal governor of South Carohna, 
 Lord Wifliam CampbeU, on board; and last the Active 
 of twenty-eight guns. FoUowing this first division of 
 larger ships, came a second squadron of frigates: the 
 Sphinx, Adseon, and Syren, which were ordered to pass 
 around the big ships and enfilade the fort. Then a 
 mortar-ship, the Thunder Bomb, took up her position off 
 the east bastion and prepared to throw her shefls. 
 
 To oppose this formidable array Moultrie disposed of 
 but four hundred and thirty-five men, officers included. 
 He had made a flag— there being no official emblem of 
 the colony— with a field of blue and a crescent in the 
 upper dexter corner, and this floated proudly on the flag- 
 pole of the fort. Word was passed round: "Mind the 
 fifty-gun ships; mind the commodore!" 
 
 When the first terrific broadside from the fleet was 
 hurled into the fort, the shots embedded themselves in 
 the tough palmetto logs as in a sponge, or struck into the 
 shifting sand, inflicting little or no damage. Broadside 
 followed broadside, and the Thunder Bomb 
 
 !283 
 
REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 
 
 "threw her shells in good direction and most of them fell 
 within the fort, but we had a morass in the middle that 
 swallowed them up instantly and those that fell in the 
 sand, in and about the fort were immediately buried, so 
 that very few bursted among us." * 
 
 These broadsides were answered by a slow and deliber- 
 ate fire from the fort, each shot crashing into the ships' 
 timbers with telling effect. In the early afternoon the 
 flag-ship Bristol swung about with her stern squarely to 
 the fort, and was raked from stern to stem, every man on 
 her quarter-deck being put out of action — all except the 
 "Commodore who stood alone — a spectacle of intrepidity 
 and firmness which has seldom been equaled, never ex- 
 ceeded." Forty of her crew were killed, seventy-two 
 wounded; her hull was struck seventy times, and her 
 rigging cut to pieces. 
 
 Inside the fort equal gallantry was displayed. The 
 men, in the torrid June noonday, fought half naked 
 through the long hours. A shot carried away the flag- 
 pole, and the people in the city, watching through their 
 spy-glasses, thought the fort had surrendered. 
 
 "Sergeant Jasper perceiving that the flag had fallen 
 without the fort, jumped through one of the embrasures 
 and brought it up through heavy fire; fixed it upon a 
 sponge staff and planted it upon the ramparts again, "f 
 
 * Moultrie's "Memoirs." 
 
 t In White Point Gardens, at the Battery in Charleston, Jasper's statue 
 stands upon a tall pedestal, his flag clutched in one hand, the other point- 
 ing across the bay to the scene of his dashing exploit. On the back of the 
 pedestal are his words: "Don't let us fight without a flag." 
 
 284 
 
CAMPAIGNS IN THE CAROLINAS 
 
 Meanwhile the three frigates had tried to make their 
 way round and take the fort upon its unfinished flank. 
 But luckily all three went aground on the Middle Shoal, 
 and night found them stuck fast there. Next morning, 
 the people of Charleston strained their eyes to see the 
 result. There still lay the three ships, but at high tide 
 two got off, the Sphinx losing her bowsprit as she fouled 
 the Syren. But the Actaeon stuck fast, and her crew, set- 
 ting fire to her, abandoned her where she lay. A party 
 of Americans boarded her then, pointed her guns toward 
 the retiring fleet, and fired a few farewell shots at Sir 
 Peter Parker's ships as they sailed out of the harbor 
 discomfited. 
 
 How vivid the scene became to me as I lay upon the 
 sand by the bastions of old Fort Moultrie ! There, just 
 before me, the four gallant British ships lay, with cables 
 sprung, within four hundred yards of the fort. Beyond 
 them a long, white fine of foam marked the bar. There, 
 off toward Fort Sumter, on the Middle Ground, the three 
 frigates went ashore, and there the Adseon stuck fast. 
 Off" to the right the city strung its houses, fiUed on that 
 occasion with beating hearts and straining eyes. The 
 morning vapors parted and a stray shaft of sunlight 
 fighted St. Michael's spire, 
 
 " The seaman's hope when waves are wild." 
 
 So, disastrously, ended the first British attempt to 
 take Charleston. For three years thereafter the city 
 enjoyed comparative peace and quiet, though her sons 
 
 285 
 
REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 
 
 went north in great numbers to do their share in batthng 
 for freedom. Charleston remained the principal patriot 
 rendezvous in the South, organizing her resources and 
 doing her best to aid and equip the Northern armies with 
 arms and clothing. 
 
 Then General Prevost, the British commander in 
 Georgia, determined to try an expedition into South 
 Carolina. He appeared before Charleston in May, 1779. 
 A hasty defense had been organized and the authorities 
 temporized long enough to permit the return of General 
 Lincoln with the main American army in the South. 
 Prevost was forced to retire, so that his invasion was 
 httle more than an unsuccessful raid. 
 
 Now, as we have seen, at the beginning of 1780 Sir 
 Henry Clinton embarked his expedition at New York 
 and set out to subjugate the South, his fleet finally 
 gathering in Edisto Inlet, below Charleston, by the 11th 
 of February. 
 
 Charleston, meanwhile, had been preparing to receive 
 him. The intrenchments across the Neck were strength- 
 ened; Fort Moultrie, the works at Haddrell's Point 
 (Mount Pleasant), and the batteries along the city front 
 were put in order. But the troops to man them were so 
 few that at first General Lincoln, the American com- 
 mander, thought of evacuating the city and saving his 
 army. But, assured of reinforcements, he finally decided 
 to defend it as best he might. 
 
 The British landed on John's Island, crossed to James 
 Island, and marched up the Ashley River to the west of 
 
 286 
 
CAMPAIGNS IN THE CAROLINAS 
 
 the town where they prepared to cross to the Neck.* 
 About the same time, Admiral Arbuthnot entered the 
 harbor with liis fleet, succeeding in sailing them past 
 Fort Moultrie with comparatively little loss. His galleys 
 now ascended the Ashley, and under the protection of 
 their guns the British crossed the river. The few Ameri- 
 can vessels in the harbor retired behind the boom that 
 stretched across the mouth of the Cooper River and 
 there were sunk to prevent the British from ascending 
 that stream. 
 
 But the city was now almost surrounded. Across the 
 Neck, to the north, extended the British hues. The fleet 
 lay out in the harbor within cannon-shot of the town. And 
 now Cornwallis arrived with three thousand fresh troops, 
 seized Haddrell's Point, and the investment was complete. 
 
 The British batteries opened fire and maintained a 
 continuous cannonade from land and sea. Day after 
 day this went on. The situation became desperate. 
 Clinton demanded a surrender, but would promise no 
 conditions. On the 8th of May a truce was asked and 
 granted, but Lincoln refused the terms offered. So that 
 night, after a forty days' siege, the British batteries 
 opened anew with redoubled fury. Two hundred cannon 
 poured their shot into the city; flames leaped from burn- 
 ing buildings; the third parallel was completed, and there 
 seemed no further hope of successful resistance. That 
 night, says gallant Moultrie, 
 
 "It appeared as if the stars were tumbling down. 
 The fire was incessant almost the whole night; cannon 
 
 * See map, page 280. 
 
 287 
 
REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 
 
 balls whizzing and shells hissing continually among us; 
 ammunition chests and temporary magazines blowing 
 up; great guns bursting and wounded men groaning 
 along the hues; it was a dreadful night." 
 
 Human nature could endure no more. Lincoln was 
 forced to capitulate, and not only give up the city but 
 surrender his entire army under very severe terms. 
 
 288 
 
II 
 
 THROUGH SOUTH CAROLINA 
 
 THE fall of Charleston seemed, for a time, to put 
 an end to all resistance in South Carolina. Sir 
 Henry Chnton wrote to Lord Germaine: "There 
 are few men in South CaroUna who are not either our 
 prisoners or in arms with us." Emboldened by this 
 seeming situation, he issued a drastic proclamation de- 
 claring that any man in the province who did not take 
 up arms for the King would be treated as a rebel. Thus, 
 all those who had expected to remain passive and neu- 
 tral saw themselves suddenly constrained to bear arms 
 against the cause they really held at heart, and this they 
 could not make up their minds to do. 
 
 Clinton returned to New York, intrusting Lord Corn- 
 wallis with the command of the army in the South, with 
 orders to overrun both Carolinas, starting at Charleston 
 and gradually working northward, leaving all the coun- 
 try in his rear in complete, if unwilling, subjection to 
 the King. 
 
 Rut partisan bands began to form all over the State, 
 gathering under the leadership of men who soon became 
 famous. Sumter assembled recruits between the Rroad 
 and Catawba Rivers in the north; Pickens and Clarke 
 upon the Saluda and Savannah in the south; while 
 Marion, "the fearless and faultless," in the swamps of 
 
 289 
 
REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 
 
 the Pee 'Dee and the Santee, and even at the very gates 
 of Charleston itself, collected his matchless horsemen — 
 "Marion's Men," as they were called — whose exploits 
 form the theme of many a song and story. 
 
 To traverse the Carolinas and see the haunts of these 
 men was the object of my next pilgrimage; and as I did 
 so I proposed to trail Cornwallis upon his long march 
 northward toward Virginia and the Chesapeake. 
 
 So one bright Monday morning I left Charleston, re- 
 gretfully, and took train for the "up-country." Though 
 the sky was clear, it had rained during the night, and the 
 observation platform of the "Carolina Special" proved a 
 very agreeable spot, dustless and, as the train is not a 
 fast one, affording an excellent opportunity for seeing the 
 country. 
 
 As far as Summer ville (as its name implies, a resort 
 for Charlestonians) and even beyond, to Branchville, 
 where the Atlanta Hne diverges, there is nothing of par- 
 ticular interest to see, except, perhaps, some typical 
 Southern scenes about the depots: a big, fat manmiy 
 rounding up her numerous progeny; a "yaller gal" 
 driving a cow hitched to a buggy; a lusty negro leading 
 his faithful mule to his work in the fields. 
 
 Beyond Branchville we turned due north and soon 
 reached Fort Motte — a place that holds its associations 
 of the Revolution. Here, in the latter days of the war, 
 dwelt Rebecca Motte (whose name I have already men- 
 tioned) in a great country house that the British had 
 seized and converted into a fortress. Lee and Marion 
 
 290 
 
CAMPAIGNS IN THE CAROLINAS 
 
 came along with their men and prepared to attack this 
 outpost, but its garrison resisted so bravely that there 
 seemed no way to dislodge them. Then, says Garden in 
 his "Anecdotes": 
 
 .j:^ o jhrj/ C:A roz ina 
 
 ■fCHAU-OTTE .7»J'"' 
 
 -^■w-^ ^ \ \ 
 
 T:iPA«TAr^BUIi6 ji ;V; 
 
 Map oj Campaigns in the CaroJinas, Shoiving Cornwallis's 
 March from ('harleston to Virginia 
 
 "Lieutenant-Colonel Lee informed Mrs. Motte that, 
 in order to accomplish the immediate surrender of the 
 British garrison, occupying her elegant mansion, its de- 
 struction was indispensaljle. She instantly replied: 'the 
 sacrifice of my property is nothing and I shall view its 
 destruction with delight, if it shall in any degree con- 
 tribute to the good of my country.'" * 
 
 * "Anecdotes of the American Revolution," by Alexander Garden. 
 
 291 
 
REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 
 
 So she placed in Marion's hands a bow with some 
 arrows that, with hghted ends, were soon winging their 
 way to the roof of the house. Its dry shingles promptly 
 took fire and, with roaring flames all about them, the 
 garrison was soon forced to surrender. 
 
 Just beyond Fort Motte I first perceived the Con- 
 garee, which, joining the Wateree down below, forms the 
 Santee — all three taking their names from the Cherokee 
 tribes that once dwelt along them. All three are inti- 
 mately connected with the partisan warfare of the Revo- 
 lution, their cane-brakes and evergreen forests — natural 
 hiding-places for these roving bands, whence they could 
 issue at will and to which they could retire with perfect 
 safety — having been the favorite haunts of Sumter, the 
 "Game Cock," and Marion, the "Swamp Fox," as the 
 Rritish called them. 
 
 What perfect retreats they were — these Carolina 
 swamps ! As we proceeded we traversed miles of them, 
 sometimes crossing long wooden trestles shut in by dense 
 masses of rich fohage — pines, oaks, maples, from which 
 hung festoons and garlands of vines and creepers, while 
 mighty cypresses towered aloft draped with swaying 
 beards and wisps of moss. At other times we passed 
 ponds whose mirror-hke surfaces were starred with hun- 
 dreds of white lilies. Then again, through the dense 
 fohage, I could dimly discern sombre depths, where pools 
 of tarnished, brownish water could be faintly seen, stag- 
 nant, bristling with "cypress-knees," dank and humid. 
 
 Rrilliant scarlet tanagers and modest gray mocking- 
 
 292 
 
CAMPAIGNS IN THE CAROLINAS 
 
 birds flitted in obscure shadows, in which, according to 
 an old writer, "Fire-flies carry their Lanthorns in their 
 Tails and on dark nights enlighten them with their golden 
 spangles." 
 
 Such were the haunts of Marion's Men; such were 
 their hiding-places. 
 
 "Our band is few, but true and tried, 
 
 Our leader frank and bold; 
 The British soldier trembles 
 
 When Marion's name is told. 
 Our fortress is the good green wood, 
 
 Our tent the cypress tree; 
 We know the forest round us. 
 
 As seamen know the sea. 
 We know its walls of thorny vines, 
 
 Its glades of reedy grass; 
 Its safe and silent islands 
 
 Within the dark morass. 
 
 "Well knows the fair and friendly moon 
 
 The band that Marion leads — 
 The ghtter of their rifles. 
 
 The scampering of their steeds. 
 'Tis hfe to guide the fiery barb 
 
 Across the moonhght plain; 
 'Tis hfe to feel the night wind 
 
 That hfts his tossing mane. 
 A moment in the British camp 
 
 A moment — and away 
 Back to the pathless forest, 
 
 Before the peep of day." * 
 
 * William Cullen Bryant, "Song of Marion's Men." 
 293 
 
REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 
 
 Somewhere in the vicinity of one of these dusky swamps 
 Garden places this amusing story of Colonel Horry, one 
 of Marion's Men, who, with a detachment, was ordered 
 to await the approach of a British scouting-party and 
 entrap them in an ambuscade. They duly fell into his 
 hands, when, at the critical moment, 
 
 *'from a dreadful impediment in his speech by which he 
 was afflicted, he could not articulate the word 'fire.' In 
 vain he made the attempt — it was fi, fi, fi, f — but he 
 could get no further. At length, irritated almost to 
 madness, he exclaimed 'Shoot, damn you, — shoot — you 
 know very well what I would say — shoot, shoot and be 
 damn'd to you !'" 
 
 At Kingsville, if you have a day or two to spare, you 
 can make a detour and by taking a branch line go over 
 to Camden, the scene of one of the disasters of the war. 
 
 When CornwalKs started northward from Charleston, 
 he made his first headquarters at Camden. He had thus 
 far encountered no organized resistance. But de Kalb 
 had brought troops from the North and these, joining 
 reinforcements that were on their way to the rehef of 
 Charleston but had turned back upon hearing of its sur- 
 render, now constituted quite an army. 
 
 Unfortunately, Congress appointed General Gates, 
 "the conqueror of Burgoyne," to the command of this 
 army of the South. He joined it at Hillsboro, in North 
 Carolina, and despite the July heat marched it directly 
 over the pine-barrens, by the shortest route, to Camden, 
 
 294 
 
CAMPAIGNS IN THE CAROLINAS 
 
 "sure of victory and of the dispersion of the British 
 army." The troops arrived sick and worn out, and the 
 result was to be foreseen. 
 
 The armies came together in the early morning, mu- 
 tually surprised, and at the first shock of battle the 
 green American mihtia, with no competent leader, "fled 
 like a torrent," as Gates himself declares — and he fled 
 with them. Only de Kalb and his Continentals main- 
 tained their positions, fighting gallantly until de Kalb 
 himself was killed and his troops, opposed by vastly 
 superior numbers, were forced to give in. 
 
 Gates himself was the first to arrive at Charlotte, sixty 
 miles in the rear. He was presently relieved of liis com- 
 mand by the Congress that had just appointed him and 
 summoned before a court of inquiry. Thus ended the 
 mihtary career of this incompetent schemer, who at one 
 time had almost succeeded in having himself placed at 
 the head of the 
 American army. 
 
 By this disaster at 
 Camden the Amer- 
 ican army of the 
 South was again re- 
 duced to a mere 
 shadow. The de- 
 feated militia had 
 returned to their 
 homes; the Conti- 
 nentals had marched ComwalUs's Headquarters at Camden, S. C. 
 
 295 
 
REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 
 
 north again; so that it looked as if CornwaUis would 
 now proceed, as an unopposed conqueror, through both 
 the CaroHnas. 
 
 Fortunately, at this critical juncture Congress ap- 
 pointed Nathanael Greene, a resolute and efficient com- 
 mander, to reorganize the Southern army. This, in spite 
 of disheartening obstacles, he proceeded to do, and how 
 skilfully he did it we shall see at Guilford Court House. 
 
 Meanwhile we shall resume our journey via Columbia, 
 the pretty capital of South Carohna, to Spartanburg, a 
 thriving town situated in the cotton belt on the main 
 line of the Southern Railway. 
 
 Tliis city affords a very convenient starting-point from 
 which to visit two of the most important battle-fields of 
 the Carolinas, King's Mountain and the Cowpens. In 
 search of information, just after my arrival, I hunted up 
 an aged veteran, who was able to give me some advice 
 and who suggested that I see Mr. John Cleveland, a de- 
 scendant of the Colonel Cleveland who took such a 
 prominent part in the battle of King's Mountain. With 
 tliis gentleman, who proved most kind and hospitable, I 
 passed a pleasant and instructive evening. 
 
 The following morning I boarded an early train going 
 north, soon crossed the Pacolet — so often mentioned in 
 this "up-country" warfare — passed, for the time being, 
 the station called Cowpens, and then traversed a fine 
 upland district of rolhng hills, handsomely wooded and 
 only partially cultivated. Then, after crossing the Broad 
 River, the Blue Ridge Mountains (well named upon this 
 
 296 
 
CAMPAIGNS IN THE CAROLINAS 
 
 bright, fresh morning) came into view along the north 
 horizon, while to the south, every now and then, my eye 
 caught a jagged silhouette, vaguely suggesting a couchant 
 lion, long and low, that I knew from descriptions must 
 be King's Mountain. The main range hes in North Caro- 
 lina, but this last spur, the scene of the battle, lies just 
 a mile and a half below the boundary — that is, in South 
 CaroHna. 
 
 After the battle of Camden, as I have said, the "Pal- 
 metto State" appeared to be completely in Cornwalhs's 
 power. Nevertheless he was wary and wished to make 
 his victory secure. He himself set out for Charlotte to 
 subjugate North Carolina, but he despatched Major 
 Ferguson with a body of regulars and the KJing's American 
 Regiment — Tories under Captain Abraham de Peyster, 
 of New York — to recruit the loyalists and break up the 
 partisan bands that were making forays in the region, 
 and especially to disperse the Mountain Men, as the 
 frontiersmen from over the Blue Ridge were called. 
 
 Ferguson was a coarse and cruel officer and allowed 
 his troops undue license. They plundered and com- 
 mitted outrages wherever they went, and left behind 
 them a train of resentment and a spirit of vengeance of 
 the fiercest description. He finally, with his ranks 
 swelled by loyahsts to more than a thousand men, took 
 up his position in all security, as he thought, upon this 
 dominating spur of King's Mountain. 
 
 But the train of vengeance he had kindled behind him 
 began to bear its fruit. From all directions men col- 
 
 297 
 
REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 
 
 lected: incensed Virginians under Campbell; Carolinians 
 under Cleveland, Shelby, and Sevier — undisciplined troops, 
 to be sure, but hardy and brave; regiments without a 
 general; men without a commissary to feed them or a 
 surgeon to dress their wounds, but all smarting under the 
 wrongs inflicted upon themselves or their families by 
 Ferguson's Tories and Tarleton's hated cavalry. It was 
 a veritable man-hunt that they organized. 
 And, as an old local doggerel puts it, 
 
 "On the top of King's Mountain the old rogue they 
 found 
 And like brave heroes, his camp did surround." 
 
 On his hilltop, a hundred feet above his assailants, 
 Ferguson felt secure. But the patriot leaders determined 
 to attack him from every side at once. Colonel Campbell 
 with the Virginians took up his position to the south; 
 then, in the order named, came the commands of Sevier, 
 MacDowell, Winston, and Cleveland, extending round the 
 niountain to the east, and ending with Colonel Shelby's 
 men to the north. Campbell, who seems to have as- 
 sumed command, gave the signal at the right moment 
 by yelling, at the top of his voice, in true Virginia style: 
 "Here they are, boys. Shoot like hell and fight like 
 devils. " 
 
 The Indian war-whoop rang out, and the battle was 
 on. Up the hill the Americans clambered from all sides, 
 the British charging down upon them with fixed bay- 
 
 298 
 
CAMPAIGNS IN THE CAROLINAS 
 
 onets. But, hiding behind trees and rocks, taking ad- 
 vantage of every l)it of cover, these hardy hunter-moun- 
 taineers fired with deadly aim. As they continued to 
 ascend and the coil grew tighter, Ferguson dashed about, 
 blowing his shrill whistle to encourage and incite his 
 men. Mounting from rock to rock and tree to tree, the 
 Americans pressed on, and all the while the British ranks 
 grew thinner. Finally, the patriots pushed their way 
 to the very top of the mountain and the British stood 
 surrounded. 
 
 Two white flags went up, but Ferguson cut them down 
 with his sword, shouting: "I'll never surrender to such 
 banditti." He gallantly tried to cut his way out, but, 
 recognized by the hunting-shirt he wore over his uni- 
 form, he was shot and fell from his horse unconscious. 
 Then ensued a terrible scene, for the Americans, infuri- 
 ated by recent outrages and by the memory of Tarleton's 
 barbarity at Waxhaws, still shot down the British sol- 
 diers who held aloft white tokens of surrender, so that 
 it was with the greatest difficulty that their officers could 
 finally restrain them and prevent a literal "no quarter." 
 The battle lasted less than an hour, but not one of the 
 enemy escaped. 
 
 In its effect upon the people the battle of King's 
 Mountain was as electrifying as Bennington or Trenton. 
 It changed the entire aspect of the war in the South. 
 It roused and stirred the patriots of both the Carolinas 
 and new regiments quickly sprang into being. As Jeffer- 
 son expressed it, it "was the joyful annunciation of that 
 
 299 
 
REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 
 
 turn of the tide of success which terminated the Revolu- 
 tionary War with the seal of independence." 
 
 The site of this memorable engagement is marked with 
 two monuments — one quite old; the other made of 
 blocks of granite laid in tiers and bearing this inscription : 
 
 In memory of 
 
 The Patriotic Americans 
 
 who pai'ticipated 
 
 in the Battle of 
 
 King's Mountain 
 
 This monument is erected 
 
 by their 
 
 Grateful Descendants. 
 
 It was fought on the 7th of October, 1780. News of 
 it first reached Cornwallis as he lay at Charlotte, and it 
 was the first sting of the hornets. Hitherto he had pro- 
 ceeded as a victor ; now his troubles were to begin. Such 
 a blow was it, indeed, that he fell back to Winnsboro, in 
 South Carolina; while Greene advanced to Charlotte and 
 took up his headquarters in the town Cornwallis had just 
 deserted. 
 
 From these headquarters he issued an order appoint- 
 ing Daniel Morgan to the command of a special corps to 
 operate in the Catawba region and along the border be- 
 tween the two Carolinas, "to protect the country, spirit 
 up the people and annoy the enemy." 
 
 Thus, the beginning of 1781 found Cornwalhs at 
 Winnsboro, Greene at Charlotte, and Morgan on the 
 
 300 
 
CAMPAIGNS IN THE CAROLINAS 
 
 Pacolet, near its junction with the Broad. Cornwalhs 
 determined first to strike at Morgan, and then to fall 
 upon Greene himself. So he detached Colonel Tarleton, 
 with his famous and hated cavalry legion and a portion 
 of the Seventy-First Regiment supported by two cannon, 
 to hunt out Morgan and crush him. 
 
 Tarleton found him upon the Pacolet and crowded 
 him over Thicketty Mountain to a place known as the 
 Cowpens, a locahty that took its name from the fact 
 that it was once a tract of grazing land, the old grants 
 designating it as "Hannah's Cowpens." 
 
 This pursuit took them through the very country that 
 I now traversed on my return from King's Mountain to 
 Spartanburg. First I crossed the Broad River, then the 
 station of Thicketty recalled the position of Thicketty 
 Mountain, and soon after I arrived at Cowpens. 
 
 The battle-field lies several miles from the station, and 
 except for its topography presents no special objects of 
 interest. For no monuments mark it, for reasons that I 
 shall explain presently, yet the place is hallowed by 
 memories of one of the gallant actions of the war. The 
 field of battle is rather open country, sparsely wooded, 
 and a little more thickly choked with shrubbery than in 
 the days of the Revolution. Then it was clear enough 
 to allow the evolutions of cavalry and, in this engagement, 
 cavalry was a decisive factor. 
 
 Morgan took up his position with his back to the Broad 
 River, which also passed around his left flank, so that in 
 case of defeat it was quite impossible to retreat. He 
 
 301 
 
REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 
 
 thus explains this strange choice of terrain, for he dehber- 
 ately placed himself in this position. 
 
 "As to covering my wings, I knew my adversary, and 
 was perfectly sure I should have nothing but downright 
 fighting. As to retreat, it was the very thing I wished 
 to cut off all hope of. I would have thanked Tarleton 
 had he surrounded me with his cavalry. . . . When 
 men are forced to fight, they will sell their lives dearly; 
 and I knew that the dread of Tarleton's cavalry would 
 give due weight to the protection of my bayonets and 
 keep my troops from breaking." 
 
 This field that he chose was quite level, with but two 
 slight elevations, the first low, the second, nearer the 
 river, high enough to screen cavalry. Behind this one, 
 Morgan placed Colonel William Washington's troopers. 
 On the smaller hillock he formed his best troops under 
 Colonel John Eager Howard, and in front of them he 
 spread two separate skirmish lines of militia. Having 
 thus disposed his command at dawn on the 7th of Jan- 
 uary, 1781, he told his men to "ease their joints" until 
 the enemy came in sight. 
 
 Tarleton left his encampment at three in the morning, 
 hoping to surprise Morgan, but upon his arrival after a 
 long march he found the little American army prepared 
 for him and looking calmly on while he formed his line 
 of battle only four hundred yards away. 
 
 After a preliminary skirmish Colonel Tarleton marched 
 his infantry steadily forward in serried ranks to smash 
 the skirmish fines of militia. These stood their ground 
 
 302 
 
CAMPAIGNS IN THE CAROLINAS 
 
 well and, when the redcoats had advanced to within 
 fifty yards, poured a deadly fire into their ranks, and then 
 retreated behind the main line of Continentals stationed 
 upon the first low hill. 
 
 The British, with a shout, now quickened their ad- 
 vance, which, however, was attended with some con- 
 fusion. Tarleton lengthened his line, and Howard, seeing 
 this, realized the danger to his right flank. Washing- 
 ton's cavalry had already emerged from behind the hill 
 and were swinging ahead to engage the British dragoons 
 when their commander, as he advanced, could see the 
 confusion in the enemy's ranks; so he sent a hasty mes- 
 sage back to Morgan: "They are coming like a mob; 
 give them a fire and I'll charge them." 
 
 At Morgan's command the Continentals, who had be- 
 gun to falter on their hilltop, now stiff'ened their line, 
 and, delivering a death-dealing volley into the shouting 
 ranks of the on-coming enemy, charged back at them 
 with their bayonets. "The effect was immediate and 
 conclusive." The British ranks broke; the men fell 
 upon their knees and gave in. "Exertions to make them 
 advance were useless. . . . Neither threats nor promises 
 could avail." * 
 
 Colonel Washington, with his cavalry, was impetuously 
 pursuing Tarleton's fleeing legion, when, riding far ahead 
 of his men, he suddenly found himself confronted by 
 Tarleton himself with two of his officers. A fierce hand- 
 to-hand encounter ensued. Washington was aided in par- 
 
 * Tarleton, "Campaigns of 1780 and 1781." 
 303 
 
REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 
 
 rying the rain of blows only by a youth of fourteen, and 
 his sword, striking that of one of Tarleton's officers, 
 broke off short. He would, in all probability, have lost 
 his hfe had not Sergeant-Major Perry come up in the 
 nick of time to ward off the next blow. 
 
 Washington had wounded Tarleton in the hand and 
 had himself received a pistol-bullet in the knee. This 
 sharp and bitter encounter forms the background for 
 another of Garden's anecdotes anent the repartee of 
 American ladies. 
 
 "The haughty Tarleton, vaunting his feats of gallantry 
 to the disparagement of the Officers of the Continental 
 Cavalry, said to a lady at Wilmington 'I have a very 
 earnest desire to see your far-famed hero. Colonel Wash- 
 ington.' 'Your wish, Colonel, might have been fully 
 gratified,' she promptly rephed, 'had you ventured to 
 look behind you after the battle of the Cowpens.' 
 
 "It was in this battle that Washington had wounded 
 Tarleton in the hand, which gave rise to a still more 
 pointed retort. Conversing with Mrs. Wiley Jones, 
 Colonel Tarleton observed — 'You appear to think very 
 highly of Colonel Washington, and yet I have been told 
 that he is so ignorant a fellow, that he can hardly write 
 his own name.' 'It may be the case,' she readily re- 
 plied 'but no man better than yourself. Colonel, can 
 testify, that he knows how to make his mark.' " 
 
 After this victory at the Cowpens Morgan sent off six 
 hundred prisoners to Virginia — a very heartening success 
 for the Americans. Congress awarded him a gold medal 
 
 304 
 
CAMPAIGNS IN THE CAROLINAS 
 
 and a silver one each to Colonel Howard and Colonel 
 Washington. 
 
 The last-named officer's widow (whose home still stands 
 facing the Battery in Charleston) presented the scarlet 
 banner that his squad- 
 ron carried that day 
 to the Washington 
 Light Infantry. This 
 military organization 
 of Charleston, named 
 in her husband's 
 honor, still has this 
 prized flag in its pos- 
 session, and conse- 
 quently has taken a 
 particular interest in 
 the battle of the 
 Cowpens. In 1856 it 
 journeyed all the way 
 from Charleston to the 
 battle-field, in those 
 days a hundred miles 
 from any railway. 
 
 Monument to Daniel Morgan, Spartanburg 
 
 With appropriate exercises a shaft was erected, topped 
 by a gilded eagle — the first monument, I beheve, to mark 
 any Southern Revolutionary battle-ground. But van- 
 dals and relic-hunters (a curse upon them !) carried away 
 the memorial, bit by bit, so that nothing now remains 
 of it. When a new monument was projected it was thus 
 
 305 
 
REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 
 
 deemed wiser to erect it in the town of Spartanburg it- 
 self, near by. 
 
 There it now stands in the principal square, a sturdy 
 shaft, simply inscribed and surmounted by a fine bronze 
 figure, modelled by J. Q. A. Ward, of Daniel Morgan, 
 who is supposed to be looking off" toward the battle-field. 
 In a letter to the committee the sculptor thus describes 
 the peculiar costume that he has portrayed: 
 
 "The coat or tunic was a fringed hunting-shirt adopted 
 from the Indian costume and much worn by the fron- 
 tiersmen of that time. The fringed leggins and mocas- 
 sins belonged to the same costume which was used by 
 Morgan's Riflemen. 
 
 "The cap, a peculiar one of fur, with a cluster of pine 
 leaves as a sort of pompon, was loaned me by a gentleman 
 of Charleston through the kindness of the Hon. Wni. A. 
 Courtenay (then Mayor). This was an original cap 
 preserved from the Revolutionary War. ... Of course 
 the manner of wearing the hair, the cravat and rullled 
 shirt-front are all in the mode of the time." 
 
 The morning after my visit to the scene of these two 
 victories at the Cowpens and King's Mountain I left 
 Spartanburg to proceed northward, for I was now to 
 follow the two main armies, Cornwallis's and Greene's, 
 that were manoeuvring to confront each other. 
 
 306 
 
Ill 
 
 GUILFORD COURT HOUSE 
 
 IT was not until two months later, however, on the 
 15th of March, 1781, that these hostile armies 
 finally stood face to face. Greene had played for 
 time, meanwhile, and had received important reinforce- 
 ments of militia, until he now felt strong enough to con- 
 front Cornwalhs's veterans. So, choosing a locality 
 north of Sahsbury, he drew up his battle-hnes round 
 Guilford Court House, a settlement situated at a cross- 
 roads near the present town of Greensboro, in North 
 Carolina. 
 
 The main Mne of the Southern Railway approximately 
 follows the line the Americans took on their march 
 northward after the battle of the Cowpens. How many 
 travellers, riding luxuriously nowadays over this hue on 
 their way north from Asheville and other resorts of the 
 Blue Ridge country, or from Miami and Palm Beach in 
 the winter, realize that they are following the weary 
 footsteps of the patriots who marched and counter- 
 marched over this same territory to fight the bitter 
 Carolina battles P 
 
 From Spartanburg I now trailed them, stopping en 
 route at Charlotte, for, though now a busy, modern- 
 
 307 
 
REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 
 
 looking town set in a pretty pastoral country, Charlotte 
 has its place in Revolutionary annals. 
 
 To it, you remember. Gates retreated after the defeat 
 at Camden, and in it Cornwallis made liis headquarters 
 for a considerable time prior to King's Mountain; but 
 he found its patriotic inliabitants so inimical, so irritating, 
 that he dubbed the place the "Hornet's Nest" when he 
 left it for Winnsboro. That the people liked the name, 
 and that they remember it still, is evidenced by the fact 
 that the local baseball-team calls itself the Hornets. 
 
 On the occasion of my last visit the town was all 
 agog with excitement. The President of the United 
 States was to arrive within a few days to deliver an ad- 
 dress, then particularly pertinent, upon the one hundred 
 and forty-first anniversary of the signing of the Meck- 
 lenburg* Declaration of Independence, which document, 
 prepared by a convention of patriots known as the Meck- 
 lenburg Committee, declared themselves and the "Ameri- 
 can Colonies" free and independent of Great Rritain on 
 the 31st of May, 1775, or more than a year before the 
 Jeffersonian Declaration. In front of the court-house 
 a monument conmiemorates this fact, now well authen- 
 ticated. 
 
 Beyond Charlotte I soon reached Sahsbury, and then 
 crossed the Yadkin near the spot where Greene crossed 
 it while its waters were rising, Cornwalhs following as 
 soon as the flood had sufficiently subsided. 
 
 Greensboro hes just a little farther north — a thriving 
 
 *The county in which Charlotte is situated. 
 308 
 
CAMPAIGNS IN THE CAROLINAS 
 
 town in the centre of a tobacco and cotton growing dis- 
 trict. There, in the busy main street, I quickly found a 
 motor to take me out to the Guilford battle-field, a few 
 miles distant, the scene of a struggle that did so much 
 to determine the final issue of the Revolution. 
 
 My first impression of this historic spot was one of 
 extreme annoyance. A group of patriotic citizens, ani- 
 mated by the very best intentions, acquired the battle- 
 ground some years ago. They have since decorated it 
 lavishly with granite tents, boulders, pyramids and tri- 
 umphal arches until it now resembles a suburban cem- 
 etery. The patriotism that inspired the great eff'ort 
 involved is not questioned; the good taste is. Bronze 
 figures of Clio and statues of former presidents of the 
 Battle Ground Company — no matter how public-spirited 
 these citizens may have been — seem sadly out of place 
 upon this historic field. I wish to except from this gen- 
 eral criticism the great equestrian statue of Nathanael 
 Greene that has recently been unveiled. Had it stood 
 alone, dominating the landscape, the impression would 
 have been noble and efTective. Upon the other hand, 
 the markers designating the positions of troops are 
 most useful to the visitor, being, to my mind, the best 
 means of marking the Revolutionary battle-fields. 
 
 To follow the various phases of the battle of Guilford 
 Court House, you should first take your place beside the 
 sign-board that marks the position of Singleton's artillery. 
 His guns occupied a piece of rising ground, pointing their 
 noses down the highroad that leads from Salisbury. On 
 
 309 
 
REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 
 
 either side of his two cannon stretched the first skirniish- 
 hne of North Carohna niihtia, with "Light Horse Harry" 
 Lee's cavalry on one flank and Colonel William Wash- 
 ington's upon the other. The militia were protected by 
 a ditch and fence that ran along where a row of maples 
 now stands. 
 
 Up the road before you came Tarleton's cavalry in 
 column, leading the van of the British army. When in 
 sight of the Americans they halted, and the steady ranks 
 of the regulars began to deploy and take position at each 
 side of them until their lines were as long as those of the 
 Americans. Then, says Tarleton, "a sharp conflict en- 
 sued between the advanced parties of the two armies. 
 In the onset, the fire of the Americans was heavy and 
 the charge of their cavalry was spirited." 
 
 But the weight of the British soon forced back this 
 first skirmish -line and disclosed a second line, the Vir- 
 ginians, also at each side of the road, three hundred 
 yards behind, stationed where the railroad-track crosses 
 the Salisbury road near the two great stone arches. 
 These troops stood their ground well, for Morgan, know- 
 ing the temper of these raw recruits, had suggested to 
 Greene to "put the militia in the centre with some picked 
 troops in their rear, with orders to shoot down the first 
 man that runs." After a splendid resistance this line 
 also gave way and sought cover in the surrounding woods. 
 
 And now the British guards and grenadiers advanced 
 across a gully against the American main line — the Con- 
 tinentals, posted on rising ground to the left of the road, 
 
 310 
 
CAMPAIGNS IN THE CAROLINAS 
 
 where a shaft of pinkish stone marks their position. 
 Behind them ran the road to Reedy Fork, and at its 
 junction with the main road we have been following stood 
 the court-house that gave its name to the battle, its em- 
 placement still plainly visible and marked with a tablet. 
 
 The Battle-field at Guilford Court House 
 
 Two fierce charges by the regulars were gallantly re- 
 pulsed by the Continentals, who even forced the red- 
 coats back again across the ravine. "At this period," 
 says Tarleton, "the event of the action was doubtful 
 and victory alternately presided over either army." 
 But the British were able to bring up additional forces 
 into this main action and could be no longer resisted. 
 Greene, perceiving this, ordered a retreat, and his troops 
 
 311 
 
REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 
 
 retired, keeping their lines intact. "Earl Cornwallis," 
 says Tarleton, "did not think it advisable for the British 
 cavalry to charge the enemy, who were retreating in 
 good order." 
 
 The British had fought with extraordinary dash and 
 bravery, but had met such determined resistance that a 
 full tliird of their number were killed or wounded during 
 the two hours of this desperate encounter. Cornwallis 
 held the field, but, as with Burgoyne after the first battle 
 of Saratoga, "the British had the name, the Americans 
 the good consequences of victory." Fox declared in the 
 House of Commons: "Another such victory would ruin 
 the British army." 
 
 Greene fell back twelve miles and expected Cornwallis 
 to pursue him. But Cornwallis, reahzing liis precarious 
 position, with his weakened army far from the sea and 
 reinforcements, having cared for his wounded as best he 
 might, crossed Deep River. Greene followed him, still 
 expecting another battle. But Cornwalhs suddenly 
 turned about again, recrossed the river, and with all 
 despatch set out by the main road via Fayetteville to 
 Wilmington, where, near Cape Fear, the British ships 
 lay. 
 
 Seeing liis enemy thus turning from him, Greene turned 
 about also and started south upon liis campaign that was 
 to win back the Carolinas to the patriot cause, thus ful- 
 fiUing the hues of an old ditty that used to be popular at 
 the end of the war and was sung to the tune of "Yankee 
 Doodle": 
 
 312 
 
CAMPAIGNS IN THE CAROLINAS 
 
 "Cornwallis led a country dance; 
 
 The like was never seen, sir; 
 Much retrograde and much advance 
 
 And all with General Greene, sir. 
 They rambled up and rambled down. 
 
 Joined hands, and off they ran, sir; 
 Our General Greene to old Charlestown, 
 
 And the Earl to Wilmington, sir." 
 
 But the earl did not even venture to remain long in 
 Wilmington, for, as he wrote to Sir Henry Clinton in 
 New York: 
 
 "I could not remain at Wilmington lest General Greene 
 should succeed against Lord Rawdon (in South Caro- 
 lina) and by returning to North Carolina, have it in his 
 power to cut off every means of saving my small corps, 
 except that disgraceful one of an embarkation, with the 
 loss of cavalry and every horse in the army." 
 
 And in a later despatch he adds: 
 
 "I can not help expressing my wishes that the Chesa- 
 peake may become the seat of war, even (if necessary) 
 at the expense of abandoning New York. Until Vir- 
 ginia is in a measure subdued, our hold on the Carolinas 
 must be difficult." 
 
 So for Virginia he set forth, and thither we shall now 
 follow him and witness the last dramatic act of the war. 
 
 313 
 
THROUGH VIRGINIA 
 
THROUGH VIRGINIA 
 I 
 
 WILLIAMSBURG 
 
 WHEN Cornwallis entered Virginia he took 
 the main road direct to Petersburg, crossed 
 the James River at Westover, and proceeded 
 to Richmond. Meanwhile, apprised of his coming. 
 Washington despatched Lafayette with about twelve 
 hundred men to oppose him as best he could. Corn- 
 wallis received reinforcements, and Lafayette, before this 
 strengthened enemy, was obliged to retire to northern 
 Virginia. But here he was joined by some troops from 
 Permsylvania and thus was able to take the field again. 
 
 Cornwalhs then turned south, staying at Elk Hill for 
 a time, while Tarleton made an unsuccessful raid to 
 the west in an attempt to capture Jefferson and the 
 Virginia Assembly, then in session at Charlottesville. 
 Upon Tarleton's return Cornwallis set out for Williams- 
 burg, at which place he arrived about the middle of 
 June, 1781. 
 
 During all this time Lafayette had been hanging upon 
 his flanks, harassing his every movement; and this young 
 man of twenty-three had proved himself so swift and ac- 
 tive, yet so prudent and wary, that not once could Corn- 
 walhs catch him off his guard or take him at a disad- 
 
 317 
 
REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 
 
 vantage. His army, too, increased all the time, for his 
 "youth and generosity, courage and prudence were his 
 spells of persuasion," and the young Virginia gentry 
 flocked to liis banner. 
 
 So Lafayette's dream of battling for the freedom of 
 mankind was now really coming true — -a dream that had 
 obsessed him from his boyhood and become tangible when, 
 at a banquet at Metz, he first heard of the shots fired at 
 Lexington and Concord. Thenceforward, heart and soul, 
 he was won to the American cause, and was anxious to 
 stake his hfe, his fortune, and his future happiness upon 
 its issue. In return he received the love and admiration 
 of the American people. " It is no trifling compliment to 
 say, that, next to the Commander-in-Chief, and the in- 
 trepid Greene, no general stood higher in public favor, 
 or more constantly commanded the admiration of the 
 army than La Fayette."* 
 
 After a brief stay in Williamsburg Cornwalhs again 
 crossed the James River and proceeded to Portsmouth, 
 while Lafayette took up his quarters in the old Virginia 
 capital. 
 
 For, until two years previous, Williamsburg had been 
 the capital of the province. In 1779, however, the seat 
 of government had been transferred to Richmond, and 
 this was a serious blow to the proud little town — a gen- 
 tlemanly community that would not barter and trade — 
 and a blow from which it has never wholly recovered, 
 for Williamsburg has ever since remained a somnolent 
 
 * Garden's "Anecdotes." 
 I 318 
 
THROUGH VIRGINIA 
 
 place, without commerce, without prosperity, but retain- 
 ing for these very reasons the glamour of respectability 
 and ancient Uneage, its old houses being haunted with 
 
 ^C.f. 
 
 ■"■''^<i\Z\ :' 
 
 The Home of the President of William and Mary College, Williamsburg 
 
 memories of some of the nation's most distinguished 
 personages. 
 
 A single street traverses it from end to end — a broad, 
 level thoroughfare, still unpaved and dusty, and just a 
 mile in length — Duke of Gloucester Street, as it is called, 
 named for the heir apparent when Wilham and Mary sat 
 upon the throne of England. 
 
 Wilham and Mary College, named, when it was built, 
 for the sovereigns, the second oldest institution of learn- 
 
 319 
 
REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 
 
 ing in our country, stands at one end of this street, while 
 at the other used to stand the State Capitol, until it was 
 destroyed by fire many years ago. The venerable col- 
 lege still holds its sessions, and prepares its graduates 
 for life's struggles, as it has done for two hundred and 
 twenty odd years. Among its presidents and chancellors 
 have been such men as Washington and Madison; among 
 its students it has enrolled three Presidents of the United 
 States, as well as a great number of eminent jurists, pa- 
 triots, and statesmen. 
 
 Its old brick buildings recall some ancient English seat 
 of learning, which effect is heightened by the noble trees 
 that arch their branches overhead to shade the quadrangle, 
 whose focal point is a marble monument, erected just 
 prior to the Revolution, to the memory of 
 
 The 
 
 Right Honourable 
 
 Norbonne Berkeley 
 
 Baron de Botetourt 
 
 His Majesty's 
 
 Late Lieutenant and 
 
 Governor General of the 
 
 Colony and Dominion 
 
 of Virginia 
 
 as the inscription upon it records, adding: "America! 
 Behold your friend!" The sight of this figure, richly 
 robed and heavily cloaked, brought to my mind a rare 
 old print called "The Alternative of Wilhamsburg" — a 
 
 3^20 
 
THROUGH VIRGINIA 
 
 crude engraving depicting a group of men writing the 
 "Resolves of Congress" upon a barrel-head, while this 
 very statue looks down upon them. 
 
 At about the middle of Duke of Gloucester Street 
 opens the Court Green, an extensive common named for 
 
 Bruton Church and the George Wythe House 
 
 the old colonial court-house that still stands upon it. 
 Near by rises Rruton Church, one of the most ancient in 
 our land, pervaded with an atmosphere of rare distinction, 
 for the tombs in its churchyard are graven with illus- 
 trious names, wliile its pews bear the name-plates of the 
 great sons of Virginia, many of whom have been among 
 its vestrymen — Custises, Randolphs, Tylers, Wallers, and 
 Blairs. The governor's seat is still in place, and of a 
 
 321 
 
REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 
 
 Sunday, I ain told, the students of William and Mary 
 occupy the gallery. 
 
 Adjoining it stands the old George Wythe house, 
 which Washington made his headquarters while in 
 Williamsburg, now toned by wind and weather to a faded 
 pinkish brown. It is the present home of a genial gentle- 
 man, who, when we visited the old Virginia capital some 
 years since, was living upon the James River, a few miles 
 away, in historic Carter's Grove, one of those handsome 
 country houses — the pride of the State — whose lawns and 
 terraces overlook the river. 
 
 At that time I visited "The Grove," and made the 
 accompanying drawing of its hall and staircase, whose 
 rail still bears the scars said to have been made by the 
 sabres of Tarleton's cavalrymen. Most of the houses 
 in Williamsburg have their stories. During that earlier 
 stay we visited almost all of them, each haunted with 
 memories, and some with well-authenticated ghosts. 
 Each held its prized possessions: a sketch of Washing- 
 ton, made at a dinner-party by Latrobe's facile pencil; 
 a portrait of Mary Gary, Washington's reputed first 
 love; a set of liistoric cliina or a rare musical instru- 
 ment. 
 
 In one I saw this letter framed upon the wall: "Gen- 
 eral Washington presents his compliments to Colonel 
 Tucker and requests the favor of his company at dinner 
 tomorrow, 3 p.m." Above this invitation hung a por- 
 trait, Gilbert Stuart's masterly presentment of John 
 Randolph of Roanoke, an ancestor of the family, then a 
 
 322 
 
THROUGH VIRGINIA 
 
 young man of thirty. In another, scratched upon a 
 window-pane, these cabaKstic words were pointed out 
 to me: "1796, Nov. 23, Ali, fatal day!" What stories 
 lurk behind these fragments of forgotten history — vague, 
 intangible, yet so teeming with suggestion ! 
 
 Hall in Carter s Grove 
 
 Other houses have a more definite history. Near the 
 site of the old Capitol stands the home of Peyton Ran- 
 dolph, the man whom we have seen presiding over that 
 momentous assembly, the first Continental Congress, and 
 whose head, when he was speaker of the House of Bur- 
 gesses of Virginia, was framed in that strange high-backed 
 chair that I saw in the State Capitol at Richmond. Bas- 
 sett Hall was long the residence of the Tylers; while in 
 a house nearer the inn lived William Wirt, first chan- 
 
 323 
 
REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 
 
 cellor of Virginia. Such are the memories that cling 
 about the old town. 
 
 At the outbreak of the Revolution Williamsburg be- 
 came a perfect hotbed of rebellion. Its royal governor, 
 Lord Dunmore, having seized the powder stored in the 
 Powder Horn — a queer, octagonal structure that still 
 faces the court-house — Patrick Henry, with the patriots 
 at his back, demanded its surrender; the community 
 flew to arms and Dunmore escaped to his ships. Early 
 in 1776 the Virginia Convention met in Williamsburg and 
 instructed its delegates in Congress to vote for inde- 
 pendence, and on the 29th of June the State formally de- 
 clared itself free and independent, and elected Patrick 
 Henry its first governor. 
 
 Williamsburg was then the headquarters of the Virginia 
 militia, and in the orderly book of its conunander. Gen- 
 eral Lewis, I came upon these quaint instructions regard- 
 ing tenue and dress of officers and men — regulations that 
 governed the Virginia riflemen, whose exploits we have 
 witnessed on many a field — the men whom the British 
 dubbed derisively "shirtmen," because of the hunting- 
 shirts described. 
 
 "It is recommended to the Colonels to make their 
 men appear as uniform as possible in their Dress, that 
 their Hatts shall be cut, all cocked in Fassion, that their 
 Hair be likewise cut exactly the same length. When the 
 Regiment are under Arms, the Officers to appear in their 
 Hunting shirts; the Officers as well as men to die their 
 shirts in an uniform manner. These attentials may ap- 
 
 324 
 
THROUGH VIRGINIA 
 
 pear Trivial, but they are in fact of considerable impor- 
 tance, as they tend to give what is call'd Esprit de Corps, 
 without which Regiments never grow to Reputation. 
 
 "R.O. The Captains of the 6th Battalion, together 
 with the other Officers, are immediately to provide them- 
 selves with hunting shirts, short and fringed; the men's 
 shirts to be short and plain, the Sergeants' shirts to have 
 small white cuffs and plain; the Drummers' shirts to be 
 with dark cuffs. Both Officers and Soldiers to have Hatts 
 cut around and Bound with black; the Brims of their 
 Hatts to be 2 inches deep and Cocked on one side with 
 a Button & Loop & Cockades, which is to be worn on 
 the left." 
 
 Many of these were the Culpepper Men, who bore 
 upon their banner a rattlesnake, with the device: "Don't 
 tread on me," and ugly antagonists they were for any 
 foe, these Virginia riflemen. 
 
 Such was the town, such were the people and the sol- 
 diery to whom Lafayette came in the month of June, 
 178L And from Wilhamsburg he continued to watch 
 his enemy. 
 
 Cornwallis remained at Portsmouth, where he was 
 always assured of a retreat through the Carohnas, until 
 he received orders from Sir Henry Chnton to proceed at 
 once across Hampton Roads to Yorktown and co-operate 
 with the British fleet when it should arrive from New 
 \ ork. So, on the 1st of August, against his own good 
 judgment, CornwaUis began to transport his army up 
 the York River to Yorktown, where his entire forces 
 were concentrated by the 22d. 
 
 325 
 
REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 
 
 Lafayette's spirits now rose and he began to foresee 
 the happy issue that terminated this Virginia cam- 
 paign, for he thus wrote to Washington: 
 
 "In the present state of affairs, my dear general, I 
 hope you will come yourself to Virginia. Lord Corn- 
 wallis nmst be attacked with pretty great apparatus; 
 but. when the French fleet takes possession of the [Chesa- 
 peake] Bay and rivers, and we form a land force superior 
 to his, his army must sooner or later be forced to sur- 
 render. I heartily thank you for having ordered me to 
 Virginia; it is to your goodness that I am indebted for 
 the most beautiful prospect which I may ever behold." 
 
 On the 30th of August his spirits rose higher still, for 
 a great French fleet, under the Comte de Grasse, arrived 
 in Hampton Roads. Five days later more than three 
 thousand troops landed from this fleet and joined the 
 Americans at Williamsburg. 
 
 Now came Washington's opportunity. He had been 
 feigning an attack on New York, taking the greatest 
 pains to deceive and bewilder his enemy so as to cover 
 his real purpose, which was to hasten to Virginia at the 
 proper moment with his best troops and aid Lafayette 
 in the capture of Cornwallis at Yorktown. And so suc- 
 cessfully did he mislead Sir Henry Clinton that, even 
 when he crossed the Hudson, with two thousand Amer- 
 icans and four thousand French soldiers supplied by De 
 Barras's fleet at Newport, the British commander still 
 thought his real objective was New York. 
 
 Then, suddenly and expeditiously, when it was already 
 
THROUGH VIRGINIA 
 
 too late for Clinton to act, this combined army set out 
 via Trenton and Philadelphia on their way to the South. 
 The American troops marched through the capital on 
 the 2d of September and were given a tremendous ova- 
 tion, and on the following day the French soldiers passed 
 through, the combined forces then proceeding rapidly to 
 the Head of Elk, where they embarked for Virginia under 
 convoy of the French fleet. 
 
 Meanwhile, with his ofiBcers, Washington had ridden 
 down by way of Mount Vernon, his first visit to his home 
 in six years. There, on the 10th of September, he enter- 
 tained the French commanders, de Rochambeau and de 
 Chastellux, and on the 14th he reached Wilhamsburg, in 
 time to congratulate his dear Lafayette on his twenty- 
 fourth birthday. 
 
 All was now excitement and bustle in the allied camp. 
 The northern army was arriving and the French officers 
 were A^ing with each other in politenesses and harmony 
 of action. What a brilhant scene there must have been 
 around the old George Wythe house, where Washington 
 was quartered ! How the Palace Green before it and the 
 Court Green beyond must have glittered with the bril- 
 liant uniforms of the French King's soldiers ! How the 
 music must have echoed up and down Duke of Gloucester 
 Street as the allied forces assembled, arriving, regiment 
 by regiment, from their landing-place on the James 
 River ! Ry the 25th of September twelve thousand men 
 were quartered in and about the town. 
 
 Washington, Rochambeau, and the general officers now 
 
 327 
 
REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 
 
 visited the French admiral on board his flagship, the 
 Ville de Paris, and perfected their plans for the siege. 
 On the 28th the entire allied army marched out of Wil- 
 hamsbiirg and went to take up its position close about 
 the fortifications that the British had thrown up around 
 Yorktown. 
 
 328 
 
s 
 
 II 
 
 YORKTOWN 
 
 to Yorktown let us now proceed by way of the 
 country that Josiah Quincy so enthusiastically 
 described when he visited it in 1773: 
 
 "Excellent farms and large cleared tracts of land, well 
 fenced and tilled, are all around me. Peach trees seem to 
 be of spontaneous growth in these Provinces . . . and, 
 intermingled with many small pine trees of exquisite 
 verdure, form a prospect to the eye most delightful and 
 charming." 
 
 To me it seemed equally pleasing, as we motored one 
 May morning not long ago, with the white hawthorn 
 blooming by the wayside, the birds singing in the pine 
 woods, and the negro cabins ahve with pickaninnies play- 
 ing in the doorways, over clay roads and sand roads until 
 we crossed the backbone of the narrow peninsula and 
 caught a glimpse of the York River, stretching broad and 
 blue to Gloucester Point directly opposite. 
 
 At the time of the Revolution Yorktown was, as it is 
 now, a village built upon a bluff, occupying the highest 
 ground below Richmond on either the York or James 
 Rivers. For this reason it had strategic value and Corn- 
 wallis had been improving its natural advantages by in- 
 trenching his position as skilfully as possible. On his 
 
 329 
 
REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 
 
 right lay a creek and swamp, while his front was pro- 
 tected by a long ravine so that his main intrenchments 
 faced the southeast, where he had also placed his prin- 
 cipal redoubts. 
 
 ^^^^^0S&S^^ 
 
 ■■''^i^^:i. 
 
 ^4^44^^ .J^^L^ 
 
 ,j^- 
 
 
 
 
 ^--y^ 
 
 '''>" 
 
 
 British Intrenchment af Yorktown, and 
 Map SJwicing the Position of the 
 French and American Troops 
 
 The allied troops formed a 
 great semicircle around him, 
 with each extremity of their 
 line resting on the river. 
 Roughly speaking, the French 
 troops held the left half of 
 the line, and the Americans the right, the massed artil- 
 lery being placed at the point of junction just in front 
 of Washington's headquarters. 
 
 It did not take long for Cornwallis to discover that, 
 
 330 
 
c 
 THROUGH VIRGINIA 
 
 despite his strong intrenchments, he was in a very 
 critical position. On the 11th of October he sent the 
 following despatch to Sir Henry Clinton: 
 
 " I have only to report that nothing but a direct move 
 to York River, which includes a successful naval action, 
 can save me. The enemy made their first parallel on the 
 night of the sixth, at a distance of six hundred yards, 
 and have perfected it and constructed places of arms 
 and batteries with great regularity and caution. On the 
 evening of the ninth, their batteries opened and have 
 since continued firing without intermission, with about 
 forty cannon, mostly heavy, and sixteen mortars, from 
 eight to sixteen inches. We have lost seventy men, and 
 many of our works are considerably damaged; and in 
 such works, in disadvantageous ground, against so power- 
 ful an attack, one can not hope to make a very long re- 
 sistance." 
 
 He thus reports the further progress of the siege: 
 
 "October 12th, 7 p.m. Last night the enemy made 
 their parallel at the distance of three hundred yards. 
 We continue to lose men very fast. 
 
 "October 15th. Last evening the enemy carried my 
 two advanced redoubts by storm and during the night 
 have included them in their second parallel. My situa- 
 tion has become very critical. We dare not show a gun 
 to their old batteries and 1 expect that their new ones 
 will open to-morrow morning. . . . 
 
 "A httle before day broke, on the evening of the 16th, 
 I ordered a sortie of about 350 men under Lieut.-Col. 
 Abercrombie to attack two batteries which appeared to 
 be in the greatest forwardness and to spike the guns. . . . 
 
 331 
 
REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 
 
 This action proved of little public advantage, for the 
 cannon having been spiked in a hurry, were soon rendered 
 fit for service again," 
 
 He then relates in some detail his attempt to pass 
 his army under cover of the night across the river to 
 Gloucester Point and thus effect a retreat. But this 
 plan failed, for, just as a greater part of the guards had 
 been ferried over, 
 
 "the weather, from being moderate and calm, changed to 
 a most violent storm of wind and rain and drove all of the 
 boats, some of which had troops on board, down the river." 
 
 Thus his last hope vanished. 
 
 "Our works in the meanwhile were going to ruin. We 
 at that time could not fire a single gun, only one eight 
 inch, and a little more than one hundred cohorn shells 
 remained. ... I therefore proposed to capitulate." * 
 
 Washington willingly acquiesced in Cornwallis's pro- 
 posal, and commissioners were appointed to draw up 
 terms of surrender — the Vicomte de Noailles and Colonel 
 Laurens representing the allies; Colonel Dundas and 
 Major Ross the British. They promptly met that same 
 afternoon — the 17th of October — in a house known as 
 the Moore House, that still stands down by the York 
 River, about a mile and a half below Yorktown — a one- 
 story dwelling, to which an inappropriate mansard roof 
 has been added. 
 
 * Cornwallis's despatches to Sir Henry Clinton. 
 332 
 
ypmLIWW i it u . .«umt. 
 
 «;2 
 
THROUGH VIRGINIA 
 
 As you drive to it you pass the remains of the "two 
 advanced redoubts" mentioned by CornwaHis in his 
 despatch of October 15 — the Uttle forts that were car- 
 ried in friendly rivalry by details from the aUied 
 armies. The redoubt nearest the river was assigned to 
 
 . <nAV\* 
 
 The Moore House 
 
 the American troops under Colonel Alexander Hamilton ; 
 the other to French troops under the Baron de Yiomenil. 
 The Americans carried their redoubt easily, after a 
 brilliant charge that did not meet very serious opposition, 
 but the French faced a more difficult problem, for the 
 work they were to carry was the better fortified of the 
 two. Its abatis and the palisades of its glacis held 
 them in check so long that when they had cleared these 
 
 335 
 
REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 
 
 obstructions they had already lost many men. But, un- 
 daunted, they threw themselves into the ditch, scaled 
 the parapet, and, leaping like tigers into the redoubt 
 itself, succeeded in carrying it at the point of the bayonet. 
 Washington cited both columns for bravery in general 
 orders, and the French King restored to his regiment, 
 known as le Gatinois, its old and honored name, "Royale 
 Auvergne sans tache." 
 
 Yorktown village of to-day conteiins some two or three 
 score houses — a few less perhaps than it did at the time 
 of the Revolution — a number of them being of the 
 rustic type so often seen along English byways. The old 
 brick custom-house still stands, while the most notable 
 among its ancient residences is the handsome house that 
 was built by "Scotch Tom" Nelson and that, at the 
 
 
 
 Principal Street in Vorktoicn, Showing Monument 
 Commemorating the Surrender 
 
 336 
 
THROUGH VIRGINIA 
 
 Governor Nelson s Home 
 
 time of the siege, was the home of Thomas Nelson, then 
 governor of Virginia and commander of the State mihtia. 
 Wlien the American artillery began to bombard the 
 town this stanch patriot signalled out his own house to 
 the gunners as an excellent target for their aim. Its old 
 brick walls still bear witness to the accuracy of their 
 marksmanship. The box hedges of its garden have now 
 grown so tall that one may stand within their shadow, 
 and by its doorway there is a laurel-tree said to have 
 
 337 
 
REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 
 
 been planted by Lafayette. When I last visited it the 
 house was being carefully "restored" for a new owner — 
 a gentleman from Illinois. 
 
 I mm ediately after CornwaUis's surrender Congress 
 resolved that a marble colmnn be erected at Yorktown. 
 "ornamented with emblems of the aUiance between the 
 Liiited States and his most Christian Majesty, and in- 
 scribed with a succmct narrative of the sinreiider of Earl 
 CornwaUis." It took just a centur>' to carrA this decree 
 into effect, for the monmnent that now stands upon a hill 
 beyond the town— a tall marble column topped with a 
 figure of Peace — was not dedicated until the centennial 
 celebration of the surrender. It has now become a well- 
 known landmark, vIsUdIc far and wide, up and down the 
 river. 
 
 Beyond it. by following a road that passes remains of 
 old intrenclunents — Unks between the first and second 
 parallels — you reach a national cemetery, quiet and 
 peaceful, the simple, numl^ered headstones of '"its silent 
 army"' stretching in long perspectives under the dappled 
 shadows of pine-trees. Near one of its walls, but just 
 outside it. a plam obelisk, entangled in wild underbrush, 
 marks the field whereon the British laid down their arms. 
 
 The ceremony was an imposing one. and as you stand 
 upon this historic field you can readily call it to mind. 
 
 Along the right side of the Hampton road that crosses 
 the little plain the American troops, nine thousand in 
 number, were drawn up in fine, with General Washington 
 upon his white horse at their head. Along the left side 
 
 338 
 
THROUGH VIRGINIA 
 
 were the seven thousand French troops under the com- 
 mand of the Comte de Rochambeau. Each hne was 
 about a mile in length. A great crowd, gathered from all 
 the surrounding country, stood silently in the background 
 expectantly awaiting the appearance of Cornwallis's 
 soldiers. 
 
 The British troops were then seen issuing from their 
 trenches, their colors cased as stipulated in the terms 
 of surrender, their drums beating a British march. A 
 French chaplain, the Abbe Robin, tells us that 
 
 "We were all surprised at the good condition of the 
 English troops as well as their cleanliness of dress. To 
 account for their good appearance, Cornwallis had opened 
 all the stores (about to be surrendered) to the soldiers 
 before the capitulation took place. Each had a complete 
 new suit, but all their finery seemed to humble them the 
 more, when contrasted with the miserable appearance of 
 the Americans." 
 
 All looked for Cornwallis, but in vain. In his place 
 Major-General O'Hara rode up to General Washington 
 and explained his commander's absence owing to an in- 
 disposition. He was referred to General Lincoln, to whom 
 he tendered CornwaUis's sword. Then twenty-eight 
 British captains advanced, bearing the twenty-eight 
 regimental standards. Opposite them, at six paces' dis- 
 tance, stood a hke number of American sergeants. Ensign 
 Wilson, the youngest commissioned officer in the Amer- 
 ican army, had been appointed to conduct this cere- 
 mony, and he ordered the British captains to advance 
 
 339 
 
REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 
 
 two paces and deliver the flags to the sergeants. But the 
 captains hesitated, unwilling to surrender their flags to 
 non-commissioned officers. Colonel Hamilton, who was 
 officer of the day, rode up, heard their grievance, and 
 ordered each in turn to hand his furled banner to Ensign 
 Wilson, who handed it to the designated sergeant. Fi- 
 nally the soldiers marched up and laid down their arms, 
 some throwing them angrily upon the ground as if to 
 render them useless. 
 
 Cornwallis's absence on this occasion has been much 
 criticised. It can be condoned, however, when we think 
 of all he had been through and when we consider this, 
 his loyal tribute to his captors: 
 
 "The treatment, in general, that we have received 
 from the enemy since our surrender, has been perfectly 
 good and proper; but the kindness and attention that 
 has been shown us by the French officers in particular, 
 their delicate sensibihty of our situation, their gener- 
 ous and pressing offers of money, both public and private, 
 to any amount, has really gone beyond what I can possi- 
 bly describe, and will, I hope, make an impression on 
 the breast of every British officer, whenever the fortune 
 of war should put any of them in our power." 
 
 The surrender at Yorktown virtually put an end to the 
 war. There was desultory fighting long after it but no 
 general engagements. Yet, it seems to me, our pilgrim- 
 age would be incomplete without one or two more visits. 
 
 340 
 
Ill 
 
 HAMPTON ROADS 
 
 FROM Yorktowii we went on to Old Point Comfort. 
 Captain John Smith is said to have given the 
 place its refreshing name upon his arrival after 
 his long and tedious voyage, and it apphes just as well 
 to-day as ever it did, for the big rambling hotel is a veri- 
 table haven of refuge for the weary traveller, who, as he 
 sits upon its broad verandas facing the wide waters of 
 Hampton Roads, may dream, as he watches the leviathans 
 of our modern navy in the offing, grim and gray, of days 
 gone by when Howe's two hundred sail came standing in 
 between the capes, transporting the British army on its 
 way to Philadelphia. He may also, in imagination, be- 
 hold de Grasse's gallant ships — the proudest fleet that, 
 up to that time, had ever sailed American waters — come 
 grandly into the Chesapeake to co-operate with Lafayette 
 and cut Cornwallis from the sea. 
 
 And, as he looks upon the surrounding shores, he may 
 summon many other memories from the past. Up the 
 James River, not far away, stand the ruins of James- 
 town, so called by Captain John Smith in honor of his 
 sovereign, while yonder capes that guard the entrance to 
 the Roads were named for the royal princes Henry and 
 Charles, and the nomenclature of all the adjacent coun- 
 ties — to cite them at random — Princess Anne, Isle of 
 
 341 
 
REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 
 
 Wight, Warwick, Sussex, Surrey, Prince George, King 
 William, King and Queen, Gloucester, revives memories 
 of the days of royal rule. 
 
 Down toward the south, sheltered on the Elizabeth 
 River, lies old Gosport Navy Yard, now become one of 
 our most important naval stations. In busy Norfolk 
 opposite stands St. Paul's, on the site of a "Chapel of 
 Ease" built in 1641. The present "Rorough Church" is 
 but a century younger and still bears embedded in its 
 wall a cannon-ball fired from Lord Dunmore's ships 
 when he, the last royal governor of the province, bom- 
 barded the town in 1776. The noble overarching trees 
 that shade this venerable church, its ivy-covered walls, 
 its fountain, and the old headstones of its graveyard 
 compose a veritable picture of rustic England and ar- 
 rest every passer-by in Church Street. 
 
 In Hampton still stands St. John's, with tombs about 
 it that date back to the first years of the eighteenth 
 century. As I was wandering among them one after- 
 noon, reading the quaint epitaphs, an elderly man ap- 
 proached and, pointing to one of them, asked: "Do 
 you see anything peculiar about that inscription P" At 
 first I could perceive nothing extraordinary in the simple 
 statement, but, upon a second look, I noticed the date of 
 death, November 31. 1770. "And a queer year it must 
 have been," chuckled the gray old man, who turned out 
 to be quite a character, a descendant of one of the com- 
 mittee that purchased the land upon which the church 
 was built in 1727. 
 
 342 
 
THROUGH VIRGINIA 
 
 At Fortress Monroe, in Trophy Circle, are gathered a 
 number of captured cannon— one taken from Burgoyne 
 at Saratoga; others from Cornwalhs at York town. The 
 old fort itself, with its moated walls and deep embrasures, 
 tells of a day also gone by, and recalls the epoch of another 
 event that added historic lustre to Hampton Roads— 
 the deadly duel between the Monitor and Merrimac. 
 
 Even to-day these waters are making history, for when 
 I was last there the Eitel Friedrich and the Appam— sea 
 rover, captured prize, privateer— were lying in the harbor 
 and the Deiitschland, first merchant submarine to cross 
 the Atlantic, came in but a few weeks later; while the 
 British cargo-boats, entering in ballast and departing 
 laden above the water-fine, were aU painted battleship 
 gray to elude the ever-watchful periscopes. 
 
 Such are a few of the memories that linger round 
 Hampton Roads. Reveille in the morning, taps at eve- 
 ning, parades and guard-mount, with the military balls 
 on Saturday nights, give to Old Point Comfort a martial 
 atmosphere rarely found to-day in this our peace-loving 
 nation. 
 
 When our visit was ended we boarded one of the 
 steamers that ply up Chesapeake Bay to Baltimore or 
 Washington. Next morning, very early, I awoke just in 
 time to see Mount Vernon perched high upon a bluff" 
 above me, and presently our friends were greeting us in 
 Washington. 
 
 343 
 
MOUNT VERNON 
 
MOUNT VERNON 
 
 HAVING followed, as F had svl otil, lo do, IIk^ 
 priii(ii)al cariipai'fns of llic I'x'voliilioti and 
 visited llie iiisLorie sites eoruieeted witli thern, 
 T now was ready for my last pilgrimage — to the home of 
 him who had f)resided over this great drama, its chief 
 actor, the man by whose guiding hand the American 
 armies had finally been led to victory. 
 
 On the 4th of Dec^ember, 1783, Washington had bach; 
 farewell to his odicers in the " l.ong Room" on the second 
 floor of Fraunces' Tavern, that still stands at the corner 
 of Broad and IVarl Streets in New York City (now r(!- 
 stored and maintained by the Sons of the devolution), 
 and had gone to the water-front, crossed in a barge to 
 New Jersey, and i)roceeded to Armapolis, where h(^ n;- 
 signed his corrmiission as commander-in-(;hief of \\u\ 
 Ameri(;an army before; Congress there asseml)led. And 
 by the following Christmas eve he had returned once 
 more to his beloved Mount Vernon, a plain country 
 gentleman, to take up his old life again. 
 
 So my especial object in visiting his liorrH; upon the 
 Potomac on this occasion — which was not my first visit, 
 nor, \ hope, will it In; my last — was to pi('tur(! this Vir- 
 ginia gentleman, this retired general, back in his peace- 
 ful home during the years that followed tin; Mevolution. 
 
 347 
 
• REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 
 
 We proposed to spend the day upon our trip. So in 
 the morning, fairly early, with two congenial friends we 
 started out from Washington, taking our luncheon with 
 us in the motor. On the way we made a stop in Alex- 
 andria to visit Christ Church, so intimately connected 
 with his devotions. There is his pew; there the very 
 conmiunion-table used in the services that he attended. 
 Then, driving on again, we crossed the causeway over 
 which he came to church and in the woods beyond, just 
 before reaching Mount Vernon itself, we enjoyed our 
 picnic lunch. 
 
 The first view of the house that you obtain from this 
 road is that of the less-known west front — the fagade that 
 faces the park and greensward, a fair and simple design, 
 full of dignity and quiet repose. 
 
 I have never yet seen Mount Vernon but I have in- 
 stinctively felt thankful that the "Father of his Country" 
 should have bequeathed it such a heritage. For its effect 
 upon the beholder is most agreeable, no matter what his 
 standards may be. It is truly a gentleman's abode, 
 neither too big and pompous for a republic's first citizen, 
 nor yet so meek and lowly as to be unbefitting a nation's 
 hero, a great leader of men. 
 
 And its grounds are so beautiful — fair Virginia hill- 
 slopes set out with stately trees and ornamental shrubs, 
 with the Potomac encircling their bases in its wide em- 
 brace. As I stepped upon the terrace that overlooks 
 these lawns on a still gray day in May, the placid waters 
 of the river were unruffled by any breeze and mirrored 
 
 348 
 
MOUNT VERNON 
 
 the white sails of a boat or two that lay becalmed upon 
 them. Beyond, on the opposite shore, the Maryland hills 
 rose green and misty, spotted with a dwelling here and 
 there, but quite as Washington used to see them as he 
 sat under his cool high portico. 
 
 -'1 
 
 ']^^'^i 
 
 Washington's Home at Mount Vernon 
 
 There, in the shadow, I always like to sit and dream 
 after the day's excursionists have departed by boat and 
 train (and that is why I planned to come by motor), and, 
 quite alone, to recall the memories of the house and its 
 long-departed occupants. 
 
 I hke to forget the hero, the Washington that we have 
 seen crossing the Delaware, reining up his horse between 
 the lines at Princeton, or praying in the snow at Valley 
 
 349 
 
REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 
 
 Forge, and to remember only the simple country gentle- 
 man, as he depicts himself in a letter written to Madame 
 de Lafayette soon after the close of the war: 
 
 "Freed from the clangor of arms and the bustle of a 
 camp, from the cares of public employment and the re- 
 sponsibility of office, I am now enjoying domestic ease 
 under the shadow of my own vine and my own fig-tree; 
 and in a small villa, with the implements of husbandry 
 and lambkins around me, I expect to glide gently down 
 the stream of life, till I am entombed in the mansion of 
 my fathers. 
 
 "Come, then, let me entreat you and call my cottage 
 your own; for your doors do not open to you with more 
 readiness than mine would. You will see the plain 
 manner in which we live, and meet with rustic civility; 
 and you shall taste the simplicity of rural life. It will 
 diversify the scene, and may give you a higher relish for 
 the gayeties of the court when you return to Versailles." 
 
 This is the Washington of Mount Vernon, as he in- 
 tended himself to be. But, of course, his dream of per- 
 fect rural felicity could not come true. The glamour of 
 his past achievements hung too close about him, and, as 
 the spring advanced and the roads were freed from mud 
 and snow, visitors began to arrive and invade his privacy: 
 old soldiers, officers, members of the Congress, and friends, 
 among whom was his dear Lafayette, come to remain 
 with him for a fortnight in the little room up-stairs that 
 still bears his name. 
 
 After the summer had passed the great French sculptor, 
 Houdon, arrived to model him for the legislature of Vir- 
 
 350 
 
MOUNT VERNON 
 
 ginia. he having consented to make the long voyage from 
 Paris as much as a tribute to the hero as to fulfil this 
 commission, for, as he said to Jefferson, who invited him: 
 " It would be the glory of my life to be enabled to place 
 my name upon the plinth of a statue representing that 
 good and great man." And so he did inscribe himself 
 upon the pedestal of the masterpiece that he created: 
 "fait par Houdon, citoyen frangais, 1788." 
 
 In his journal Washington thus notes Houdon's arrival 
 and the sittings that followed: 
 
 ''Oct. 2nd, Sunday. — After we were in Bed (about 
 eleven o'clock in the evening) Mr. Houdon, sent from 
 Paris by Doct. Franklin & Mr. Jefferson to take my Bust 
 in behalf of the State of Virginia, with three young men 
 assistants, introduced by Mr. Perin, a French Gentle- 
 man of Alexandria, — arrived here by water from the lat- 
 ter place. . . . 
 
 "7//i, Friday. — Sat to-day, as I did yesterday, to Mr. 
 Houdon, for my Bust. 
 
 "10//j, Monday. — Observed the process for preparing 
 the Plaister of Paris & mixing of it according to Mr. 
 Houdon. . . . 
 
 "19th, Wednesday. — Mr, Houdon, having finished the 
 business which brought him hither, went upon Monday 
 (17th) with his People, work, and implements in my 
 Barge to Alexandria to take Passage in the Stage for 
 Philadelphia next morning." 
 
 Thus we see that but two weeks were required to make 
 the studies necessary to create the statue that now stands 
 imder the dome of the State Capitol at Richmond— the 
 
 351 
 
REVOLUTIONARY P I LCxR I M AGE 
 
 finest presentment of our national hero that we possess 
 and one of the masterpieces of modern portrait sculpture. 
 
 It has the look, the size, and the serene spirit of the 
 man whom "nature," as the Comte de Moustier expressed 
 it in his account of the inauguration, "had distinguished 
 from all others by his appearance. He had at once the 
 soul, the look and the figure of a hero . . . and in his 
 manners, he had the advantage of joining dignity to great 
 simplicity." 
 
 Houdon has succeeded in giving us this aspect of liim, 
 depicting Washington in the uniform that is still to be 
 seen in the National Museum in Washington — the coat 
 with wide facings that he wore when he resigned his com- 
 mission. His right hand, gloved, rests upon a walking- 
 stick; his left arm upon a tall group of objects of sym- 
 boUc meaning: a plough, fasces, his sword, and his cloak 
 thrown over the whole. These are the only trace of 
 symbolism. The remainder is frank portraiture without 
 idealization of any kind, remarkably convincing and life- 
 like in every detail. 
 
 At Mount Vernon Washington, in his dress, threw 
 aside even this much of the retired commander-in-chief, 
 riding forth in the morning, after his breakfast of "In- 
 dian cakes, honey and coffee," attired, as Mr. Custis 
 describes him, "in plain drab clothes, a broad-brimmed 
 white hat, a hickory switch in his hand and carrying an 
 umbrella with a long staff, which is attached to his sad- 
 dle bow." 
 
 He personally managed his own large estate, putting 
 
 352 
 
MOUNT VERNON 
 
 into its supervision the same admirable attention to de- 
 tail that he bestowed upon all his work. His home had 
 run down greatly during his long absence at the war and 
 he proceeded to repair it and build the additions made 
 necessary by his broader Hfe. He endeavored also to 
 retrieve his private fortune, so impaired by his service in 
 the army, for which he would accept no pay. So these 
 first few years of retirement became profitable as weU as 
 pleasurable ones. 
 
 His daily routine of life was most methodical. In the 
 morning hours he visited his farms, talking to and over- 
 seeing his negroes and inspecting his fine animals— his 
 horses, cattle, sheep, and his splendid mules, sixteen 
 hands high, bred from a union of his own coach mares 
 with asses sent him by the King of Spain. He was very 
 fond of his gardens and, from his diary, you may trace 
 him to the Mill Swamp, the Dogue Creek, and other 
 localities along the Potomac in quest of ash-trees, crab- 
 apples, mulberries, white thorn, and other specimens to 
 add to his arboretum. He even went farther afield and 
 brought hemlocks from Occoquan and acorns and buck- 
 eyes from the Monongaliela ; while Arthur Young, the 
 agriculturist, sent him seeds from England and Thomas 
 JefFerson shrubs from Monticello. 
 
 The grounds at Mount Vernon contain many trees 
 that he set out, and so I never enter the formal garden, 
 with its old box hedges prim as a parterre de broderie, 
 that I do not seem to see him walking in the pathways 
 or talking interestedly to the gardeners. 
 
 353 
 
REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 
 
 Before three o'clock he returned to the house for the 
 quiet dinner in the small dining-room. This apartment, 
 as well as the other rooms of the lower floor, still vividly 
 recalls his home life. 
 
 I can see him shut in his panelled library on rainy days, 
 among his books and papers, using the very inkstand 
 that is closed in one of the cases, or dictating to his sec- 
 retary Mr. Tobias Lear. I can see him receiving visitors 
 in the "west parlor' with its French furniture, corner 
 mantel, and general air of ceremony. I can see him on 
 occasions leading his guests to the "banquet-hall," where 
 it was his custom, at these larger and more formal dinners, 
 to seat his wife at the head of the table. If there were 
 other ladies, these sat about her. His secretary was 
 placed at the foot of the table to make himself agreeable 
 to the lesser people near him. Washington seated him- 
 self at the middle of the board with the more distinguished 
 guests about him at either hand or directly opposite. 
 
 "Nothing could exceed the order with which his table 
 was served. Every servant knew what he was to do and 
 did it in the most quiet and yet rapid manner." He him- 
 self was frugal in his appetites, usually refusing the more 
 elaborate dishes provided for his friends. He drank a 
 "mug of small beer or cider" and a glass or two of fine 
 old Madeira with his favorite toast, "To all our friends." 
 
 In the evening, at candlelight, he read the news or hs- 
 tened in the music-room to pretty Nelly Custis as she 
 played the harpsichord that still stands by the door, or, 
 at times, accompanied her upon the flute that lies upon it. 
 
 354 
 
MOUNT VERNON 
 
 The precious objects displayed in cases in all these 
 rooms recall his tastes and associations as well as the 
 homage of his distinguished friends. There are his dress 
 swords; his walking-stick presented by his ally the King 
 of France; a Sevres clock and rose-jars sent him by Lafay- 
 ette, and another unique object from the same donor — 
 the great iron key, token of despotism, about a span in 
 length, that once locked the main portal of the Bastille. 
 Lafayette accompanied this last gift with a letter that 
 concluded as follows: 
 
 "Permit me, my dear general, to present you with a 
 picture of the Bastille, such as it was some days after 
 I had ordered its demolition, with the main key of the 
 fortress of despotism. It is a tribute which I owe as a 
 son to an adopted father — as an aide-de-camp to my 
 general — as a missionary of liberty to its patriarch." 
 
 After six years of retirement at Mount Vernon Wash- 
 ington's peaceful life was broken into and he was again 
 suimnoned to serve his country and to become its first 
 President. But, the eight years of his office ended, he 
 returned again to his old home to resume his quiet life. 
 He wrote at this time to his former secretary of war, 
 James McHenry: 
 
 "I might tell you that I begin my diurnal course with 
 the sun; that, if my hirelings are not in their places at 
 that time, I send them messages of sorrow for their in- 
 disposition; that, having put these wheels in motion, I 
 examine the state of things further; that the more they 
 
 355 
 
REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 
 
 are probed, the deeper I find the wounds which my build- 
 ings have sustained by an absence and neglect of eight 
 years; that by the time I have accomplished these matters, 
 breakfast (a little after seven o'clock) is ready; that this 
 being over, I mount my horse and ride round my farms, 
 which employ me until it is time to dress for dinner, at 
 which I rarely miss seeing strange faces — come, they say, 
 out of respect for me. Pray would not the word curiosity 
 answer as well? ..." 
 
 Washington soon tired of these strangers' visits, and 
 invited his favorite nephew, Lawrence Lewis, to come to 
 live with him at Mount Vernon "to ease me of the trouble 
 of entertaining company, particularly of nights, as it is 
 my inclination to retire (and, unless prevented by very 
 particular company, I always do retire) either to bed or 
 to my study, soon after candlelight." 
 
 So a new member was introduced into the household 
 and his coming brought a romance. Nelly Custis, now 
 grown to womanhood, was the youth and gayety of the 
 house and the ray of brightness in all its gatherings. 
 Lawrence Lewis quickly fell in love with her, and Washing- 
 ton was greatly pleased when he won his suit in spite of 
 numerous rivals. 
 
 The young people were married in the early days of 
 1799, and remained on at Mount Vernon. The year 
 passed happily until nearing its end. 
 
 On the Ifth of December Washington noted in his 
 diary that there "was a large circle around the moon." 
 The next day, upon his morning ride, he was caught in 
 the snow-storm that this circle presaged. He returned 
 
 356 
 
MOUNT VERNON 
 
 as usual in time for his three-o'clock dinner, but so late 
 that, despite protests from his secretary, he sat down to 
 the table in his damp clothes. 
 
 The next day he complained of a sore throat. This 
 grew worse on the day following, and, early on the morn- 
 ing of the 14th, he 
 awoke with a violent 
 chill. Mrs. Washing- 
 ton sent for Mr. Lear, 
 his secretary, who 
 tells us that when he 
 reached the bedcham- 
 ber he "found the 
 general breathing 
 with difficulty, and 
 hardly able to utter a word intelligibly." Doctor Craik 
 was hastily summoned, then Doctor Brown, and finally 
 Doctor Dick. All realized the gravity of the illness. He 
 sat up twice during the day, but experienced grieat diffi- 
 culty in breathing. Toward evening he failed rapidly. 
 
 Mr. Lear, the only eye-witness who has left an account 
 of Washington's last moments, thus describes the final 
 scene : 
 
 Room in Which Washington Died 
 
 "About ten minutes before he expired (which was be- 
 tween ten and eleven o'clock) his breathing became easier. 
 ... I saw his countenance change. I spoke to Doctor 
 Craik, who sat by the fire. He came to the bedside . . . 
 and put his hands over his eyes, and he expired without a 
 
 struggle or a sigh. 
 
 357 
 
REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 
 
 "While we were fixed in silent grief, Mrs. Washington, 
 who was sitting at the foot of the bed, asked with a firm 
 and collected voice, 'Is he gone?' I could not speak, 
 but held up my hand, as a signal that he was no more. 
 "Tis well,' said she, in the same voice, 'I shall follow 
 him; I have no more trials to pass through.' 
 
 "At the time of his decease. Doctor Craik and myself 
 were in the situation before mentioned. Mrs. Washing- 
 ton was sitting near the foot of the bed. The general's 
 servant, Christopher, who had been in the room and 
 standing nearly all day, stood near the bedside. Caroline, 
 Molly and Charlotte were in the room, standing near 
 the door." 
 
 Always, as I look through the door into that south 
 bedroom, this is the picture that I see: the general lying 
 upon the bed that still stands between the two windows; 
 Martha Washington sitting in the chair near its foot; 
 the doctor, Mr. Lear, and the old negro body-servant 
 standing by the bed ; the three black housemaids huddled 
 in a group near the door. After his death, as was the 
 custom, this bedroom was closed, and Martha Washing- 
 ton went to occupy the room above that bears her 
 name. 
 
 Washington's body was brought down-stairs and laid 
 in the drawing-room, and later, when the time for the 
 funeral approached, was placed under the great white 
 portico that fronts the Potomac. The funeral was held 
 on Wednesday, the 18th of December. I quote from an 
 account, written in the taste of the time, in the Ulster 
 County Gazette, published a few days later: 
 
 358 
 
MOUNT VERNON 
 
 "In the long and lofty Portico, where oft the Hero 
 walked in all his glory, noiv lay the shrouded corpse. . . . 
 On the ornament at the head of the coffin, was inscribed 
 Surge ad Judicium— about the middle of the coffin 
 GLORIA DEO — and on the silver plate, 
 
 General 
 
 George Washington 
 
 Departed this life, on the 14th December 
 
 1799, Mi. 68. 
 
 "Retween three and four o'clock, the sound of artillery 
 from a vessel in the river, firing minute guns, awoke 
 afresh our solemn sorrow — the corps was moved — a band 
 of music with mournful melody melted the soul in all 
 the tenderness of woe. The procession was formed and 
 moved on in the following order: 
 
 Cavalry ] 
 
 Infantry [> with arms reversed 
 Guard J 
 
 Music 
 Clerg-y 
 
 The general's horse with his saddle, 
 holsters and pistols. 
 Cols. j; Cols. 
 
 Simms R Gilpin 
 
 Ramsay ^ Marsteller 
 
 Payne e Little 
 
 Mourners 
 Masonic Rrethren 
 Citizens 
 
 "When the procession had arrived at the bottom of 
 the elevated lawn, on the banks of the Potomac, where the 
 
 359 
 
REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 
 
 family vault is placed, the cavalry halted, the infantry 
 marched toward the Mount and formed their lines . . . 
 the funeral service was performed . . . and three dis- 
 charges by the infantry, the cavalry and 11 pieces of 
 artillery which lined the banks of the Potomac back of 
 the Vault, paid the last tribute to the entombed Com- 
 mander-in-Chief of the Armies of the United States and 
 to the departed Hero." 
 
 The vault here mentioned is the old one — the ancient 
 family vault down toward the river. Washington's body 
 lay within it for thirty years and then was moved to the 
 newer vault, where it now reposes — the final resting-place, 
 built according to his wish and in the spot that he had 
 designated in a clause of his will. Now that it is shaded 
 by trees and partially overgrown with vines, it is not as 
 unsightly as once it was; for, both in material and design, 
 it leaves much to be desired, but so hallowed are its mem- 
 ories, so august the presence that one feels within, that 
 all else is forgotten in the contemplation of the simple 
 sarcophagus of the Father of his Country, the man who, 
 by liis ability and courage, his uprightness and self-sacri- 
 fice, won the admiration of the world. 
 
 360 
 
WASHINGTON 
 
WASHINGTON 
 
 ONLY a few miles from Mount Vernon now 
 spreads the great "Federal City" that Wash- 
 ington founded and that has become the living 
 embodiment of his name — the monument he builded to 
 himself without knowing it; the enduring evidence of his 
 breadth of vision; of his power to see, in a wilderness 
 dotted with the tepees of the Powhatan Indians, the fair 
 city of his imagination. 
 
 It is indeed difficult for the visitor of to-day to con- 
 ceive that this splendid city was a pathless forest but a 
 little more than a century ago and that a traveller* 
 "after riding over an extensive tract of level country 
 somewhat resembling an Enghsh heath" and traversing 
 a forest "came out upon a large spot cleared of wood, in 
 the center of which" he saw a building "commenced on 
 an extensive scale" — the Capitol. 
 
 Washington, from the very inception of the idea, in- 
 sisted, despite the jealousies of the States, the intrigues 
 of Congress, and the greed of landowners, upon carrying 
 out his vast plan in its entirety and hewed from the for- 
 ests along the Potomac, streets that "looked hke broad 
 avenues in a park bounded on each side by thick woods, "f 
 And that is why I think of our national capital, as we see 
 
 * Thomas Twining, writing in 1796. t Francis Baily. 
 
 363 
 
REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 
 
 it to-day-the most beautiful city in our country and the 
 pride of the nation— as his memorial. 
 
 He was aided, in the great task that Congress had laid 
 upon him, by his secretary of state, Thomas Jefferson 
 an ardent devotee of the arts and a student of arcliitec- 
 ture, as the State Capitol at Richmond, the University of 
 Virgima, and his own handsome home, Monticello all 
 designed by him, still testify. A man of broad vision he 
 caught at once Washington's great conception and even 
 went so far as to draw a tentative plan of the proposed 
 city that has been preserved and, in many respects re- 
 sembles the one finally adopted. 
 
 But these two executives had the foresight to choose an 
 artist— a man of genius and imagination— Pierre Charles 
 L'Enfant, to put their ideas into concrete form, and to 
 tins man we owe the admirable plan of our national 
 capital. Major L'Enfant was a Parisian, son of a 
 "painter m ordinary to the King in his Manufacture of 
 the Gobehns." Coming to America in the fall of 1777 
 he enhsted as a volunteer in the American army and,' 
 early m the following year, was made a captain of en- 
 gmeers. He was six feet tall and possessed a finely pro- 
 portioned figure, wliile his prominent nose betokened that 
 obstinacy and "untoward disposition," as Washington 
 expressed it, that was his final undoing. 
 
 Engaged on pubhc work in New York City when he 
 heard of the final decision of Congress regarding the new 
 capital, he at once made application for the task of draw- 
 ing up a suitable plan, for, says he: 
 
 364 
 
WASHINGTON 
 
 "No nation, perhaps, has ever before had the oppor- 
 tunity offered them of dehberately deciding on the spot 
 where their capital city should be fixed, or of combining 
 every necessary consideration in the choice of situation, 
 and although the means now within the power of the 
 country are not such as to pursue the design to any great 
 extent, it will be obvious that the plan should be drawn 
 on such a scale as to leave room for the aggrandizement 
 and embellishment which the increase of the wealth of 
 the nation will permit it to pursue at any period, however 
 remote. Viewing the matter in this hght, I am fully 
 sensible of the extent of the undertaking and, under the 
 hope of a continuance of the indulgence you have hitherto 
 honored me with, I now presume to solicit the favor of 
 being employed in this business." 
 
 His offer of services was accepted, and after making a 
 careful survey of the site, L'Enfant submitted his first 
 report, selecting unerringly "the most desirable positions 
 for to erect the Publique Edifices," and scorning the 
 regulation squares — the block plan of Philadelphia (and 
 would that other of our city planners had followed liis 
 example !) as too tame and monotonous to suit his fer- 
 vent fancy for, says he, with unquestionable truth: 
 
 "It is not the regular assemblage of houses laid out in 
 squares and forming streets all parallel and uniform that 
 is so necessary. . . . Such plans indeed, however an- 
 swerable they may appear on paper, or seducing as they 
 may be on the first aspect to the eyes of some people 
 . . . become at last tiresome and insipid, products of 
 some cool imagination, wanting a sense of the grand and 
 
 365 
 
REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 
 
 truly beautiful, [which is] only to be attained where na- 
 ture contributes with art to diversify the objects." 
 
 So, when he finally perfected his plan, he made 
 
 "the distribution regular with streets at right angles, 
 north-south and east-west, but afterwards I opened others 
 on various directions as avenues to and from every 
 principal place ... to serve as do main veins in the 
 animal body to diffuse life through smaller vessels in 
 quickening the active motion of the heart." 
 
 Such were the practical ideas of the man who made 
 Washington unique among our American cities, most of 
 which lack these "main veins" that would be such an 
 addition to their life. He plotted the great public l)uild- 
 ings as we see them to-day: the Capitol on "Jenkin's 
 Hill," "the presidial palace," as he called the White 
 House near the "three grand Departments of State"; 
 and a great equestrian figure of Washington (which it 
 was hoped Houdon would execute) at the end of the Mall, 
 where the obelisk now stands. 
 
 But, like many a genius, he was erratic. His dreams 
 went farther and he conceived a city in which the public 
 edifices should first be erected and then the lots sold for 
 residences to be built in conformity with these monu- 
 ments, as in the Place Yendome or the Place de I'Etoile 
 in Paris. It may be imagined how such ideas were re- 
 ceived by the pioneers of that day — poor and battling 
 with a wilderness. Troubles with the commission arose 
 
 366 
 
WASHINGTON 
 
 and developed into a deadly quarrel that finally ended in 
 his being deprived of his work. 
 
 Tlirough all his trials Washington remained his com- 
 prehending friend, understanding and approving his 
 dreams and his big ideas that were, indeed, too vast for 
 his day. L'Enfant's later life became embittered and 
 
 Tomb of Major L' Enfant at Arlington 
 
 toward its close he lived as a dependent, with William 
 Dudley Digges in Maryland, at whose house he died and 
 was buried in the family plot. But in 1909 his remains 
 were disinterred, conveyed under military escort to the 
 rotunda of the Capitol, where they lay in state, and then 
 taken for reburial to the National Cemetery at Arlington. 
 There they now lie upon the spot perhaps where he 
 and Washington often stood to talk over the fair city 
 
 367 
 
REVOLUTIONARY PILGRIMAGE 
 
 of their dreams. For, from Major L'Enf ant's grave on 
 Arlington Heights you obtain one of the finest views of 
 Washington City, that spreads its vast parks, its shaded 
 avenues, its noble distances along the Potomac, the pale 
 shaft of the monument, simple, upright as the noble 
 man it commemorates, rising quite near at hand, and 
 the Capitol rearing its dome beyond "with majestic 
 aspect over the Country . . . advantageously seen from 
 twenty miles," as L'Enfant himself foresaw it would be. 
 
 Down in the public buildings of the city are treasured 
 some of the most precious relics of our national hero 
 that we possess. In the National Museum is kept the 
 uniform to which I have already alluded — the one he 
 wore when he resigned his commission at Annapohs. 
 Here are also his camp writing-desk; his shaving-case 
 with the tarnished mirror that reflected his face each 
 morning; his mess chest, but twenty-two inches long and 
 fifteen wide, that contained all his cooking-apparatus; 
 the pole, pegs, and part of the canvas of his campaign- 
 tent. How simple all these objects are ! How little like 
 the camp equipage of other great commanders ! 
 
 In the library of the State Department, closed in a 
 case, lies his sword of battle, heavier and less showy than 
 those at Mount Vernon — its broad blade, shghtly curved, 
 being made for action and not for ornament. The hilt is 
 of ivory, of a pale-green color, wound round Avith silver 
 wire, and between the guards there is an embossed trophy 
 of arms. The blade is incased in a black leather scab- 
 bard, engraved with the name of its maker — J. Railey, 
 
 368 
 
WASHINGTON 
 
 Fish Kill, which town was one of the principal depots of 
 the American army. 
 
 This war sword was one of the four that he bequeathed 
 to his nephews, with the injunction that they should 
 never "unsheath them for the purpose of shedding blood, 
 except it be in self defence, or in the defence of their 
 country and its rights ; and in the latter case to keep them 
 unsheathed, and to prefer falling with them in their hands 
 to the relinquishment thereof." 
 
 This injunction was the spirit of the Revolution. And 
 it should be our spirit to-day : never to be the aggressor, 
 but to defend our country, our hberty, and our honor to 
 the uttermost, and to have by us, "prepared," weapons 
 in prime condition — an army and navy adequate to per- 
 form this duty. 
 
 369 
 
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