Yale University Library

39002004771771

YALE UNIVERSITY
LIBRARY

THE STORY OF THE
REVOLUTION

BY
HENRY CABOT LODGE

VOLUME T

NEW YORK
CHARLES SCRIBNER'S^SONS 1898

t "N,

Copyright,. 1898, by
CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS

C\>Z\,\^Zm

JHOW DIRECTORY
PRINTING AND BOOKBINDING COMPANY
NEW YOHK

TO
THE ARMY AND NAVY OF THE UNITED STATES,
VICTORS OF
MANILA, SANTIAGO AND PORTO RICO,
WORTHY SUCCESSORS OF THE SOLDIERS AND SAILORS
WHO UNDER THE LEAD OF GEORGE WASHINGTON
WON AMERICAN INDEPENDENCE,
THIS STORY OF THE REVOLUTION
IS DEDICATED.

CONTENTS CHAPTER I.

PAGE
The First Step  x

CHAPTER II.
The First Blow ... ,P
CHAPTER III.
The Second Congress  -,

CHAPTER IV.
The Reply to Lord Sandwich  ~0

CHAPTER V.
The Siege of Boston ...

97

CHAPTER VI.
The Spread of Revolution  Irg
CHAPTER VII.
Independence  _ x,6
CHAPTER VIII.
The Fight for the Hudson  xgo
vii

viii CONTENTS
CHAPTER IX.
PAGB
Trenton and Princeton  202
CHAPTER X.
The Burgoyne Campaign .  228
CHAPTER XI.
The Results of Saratoga .  263
CHAPTER XII.
Fabius  _ 279

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

GEORGE WASHINGTON  Frontispiece
Painted, in 1795, by Gilbert Stuart,
PAGE
CARPENTERS* HALL, PHILADELPHIA* ...... 3
JOHN JAY  4
Engraved, in 1783, from a pencil drawing by Du Simitiere, made in 1779.
JOHN ADAMS .......... 4
From a painting by Blyth, IJOS-
SAMUEL ADAMS .......... 5
Engraved from the portrait painted by Copley, in 1773.
PEYTON RANDOLPH, OF VIRGINIA, THE FIRST PRESIDENT OF THE
CONTINENTAL CONGRESS  8
From a painting by C. W. Peaie, 1774.
RICHARD HENRY LEE, OF VIRGINIA ..... .8
Painting by C. If-'. Peale, 1791.
GEORGE WASHINGTON AT THE AGE OF FORTY .... 9
Painted by Charles lVillso?i Peale, 1772.
THE ASSEMBLY ROOM, CARPENTERS' HALL, WHERE THE CONTI
NENTAL CONGRESS FIRST MET . . . . . .II
GENERAL JOHN SULLIVAN  1 7
from the original pencil-sketch made by John Trumbull, at Exeter, N. //., in 2790.
THE ARTICLES OF ASSOCIATION AND RESOLUTIONS ADOPTED BY
THE FIRST CONGRESS AT PHILADELPHIA, OCTOBER 20, 1 774 19
Reproduced, by permission, from the original docitment, nolo in the Lenox Library.
JOHN DICKINSON, OF PENNSYLVANIA ...... 20
From a painting by C. IV. Peale, 1791.
CONCORD BRIDGE AT THE PRESENT TIME . . . . .27
THE OLD BUCKMAN TAVERN, BUILT 1690 . . . . -30
THE OLD NORTH CHURCH ........ 31

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

PAUL REVERE ROUSING THE INHABITANTS ALONG THE ROAD TO
LEXINGTON  33
PAUL REVERE, BY ST. MEMIN, 1 804 . ... 34
MAJOR PITCAIRN'S PISTOLS, . .  35
HARRINGTON HOUSE, LEXINGTON  ¦ 3^
THE FIGHT ON LEXINGTON COMMON, APRIL 19, 1775 . . -37
GENERAL VIEW OF LEXINGTON COMMON AT THE PRESENT TIME 39

LORD PERCY .........
From a print lent by W. C. Crane.
BARRETT HOUSE, NEAR CONCORD 
THE FIGHT AT CONCORD BRIDGE, APRIL 19, 1775
FLAG CARRIED BY THE BEDFORD MILITIA COMPANY AT CON
CORD BRIDGE ........
WRIGHT TAVERN, CONCORD, AT THE PRESENT TIME .
RECEIPT SIGNED BY THE MINUTE MEN OF IPSWICH, MASS., WHO
MARCHED ON THE ALARM, APRIL 19, 1775
THE RETREAT FROM CONCORD ......
GRAVE OF BRITISH SOLDIERS, NEAR THE BRIDGE AT CONCORD
THE MINUTE MAN AT CONCORD BRIDGE ....
Daniel C. French, Sculptor.

JOHN HANCOCK .........
Engraved from the portrait painted by Copley in 1774-
THE RUINS OF TICONDEROGA, LOOKING NORTHWEST, SHOWING
THE REMAINS OF THE BASTION AND BARRACKS
THE CAPTURE OF TICONDEROGA BY ETHAN ALLEN
A NEAR VIEW OF THE RUINS OF THE OFFICERS' QUARTERS AT
TICONDEROGA ........

THE BUNKER HILL INTRENCHING PARTY
PRESCOTT ON THE PARAPET AT BUNKER HILL
THE BATTLE OF BUNKER HILL .
GENERAL WILLIAM HOWE ....
From an engraving after the portrait by Dodd, May 13, 1786.
JOSEPH WARREN, KILLED AT BUNKER HILL
From a portrait painted by Copley in 1774.

40 42
4345464748 5°5i 55 606164 7579
8587

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS xi
PAGE
A GLIMPSE OF BUNKER HILL MONUMENT FROM COPP's HILL
CEMETERY ......... 92
WASHINGTON TAKING COMMAND OF THE ARMY . . . -99
VICINITY OF THE WASHINGTON ELM, CAMBRIDGE, AT THE PRES
ENT TIME ......... IOI
A PROCLAMATION BY KING GEORGE III., AUGUST, 1775 . . 105
Reproduced from one of the original broadsides in Dr. Emmet's collection now in the Lenox
Library.
CAPE DIAMOND AND THE CITADEL, QUEBEC .... 107
TABLET ON THE ROCKS OF CAPE DIAMOND BEARING THE IN
SCRIPTION "MONTGOMERY FELL, DEC'R 31, 1775 " ¦ • IQ8
THE MONUMENT TO MONTGOMERY, ST. PAUL'S CHURCH, NEW
YORK CITY ......... IO9
Erected by the order of Congress, January 25, 1776.
THE ATTACK ON QUEBEC . . . . . . . .Ill
THE DESTRUCTION OF FALMOUTH, NOW THE CITY OF PORT
LAND, ME. . . . . . . . . .119
In October, 1775, by a fleet under Captain Moioatt.
GENERAL WILLIAM MOULTRIE ....... 127
From lite painting by John Trumbull, 1791.
old st. Michael's church, Charleston, s. c. . . . 128
the defence of fort sullivan, june 28, 1776 . . . 131
fort moultrie, at the present day ..... 133
washington showing the camp at' cambridge to the com
mittee, consisting of franklin, lynch, and harrison,
appointed by congress  147
INDEPENDENCE HALL, PHILADELPHIA, CHESTNUT STREET FRONT 150
THOMAS PAINE  T55
Frpm painting by C. W. Peale, 1783-
ROGER SHERMAN . . . • • ° • - • T57
Front the painting by Ralph Earle, 1787.
ROBERT MORRIS ......••-• x59
Front a painting by Edward Savage, 1790.
THOMAS JEFFERSON  1^'1
From the painting by Charles Willson Peale, 1791-
VIEW OF INDEPENDENCE HALL FROM THE PARK SIDE . . 1 63

xii LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
PAGE
STAIRWAY IN INDEPENDENCE HALL ...... 1 64
FAC-SIMILE OF A PART OF THE ROUGH DRAFT OF THE DECLAR
ATION OF INDEPENDENCE ....... 165
From an artotype by E. Bierstadt e>f the original in the Department of Slate, at Washington, D. C.
ROOM IN INDEPENDENCE HALL IN WHICH THE DECLARATION
WAS SIGNED ......... 167
READING THE DECLARATION OF INDEPENDENCE TO THE TROOPS
IN NEW YORK, ASSEMBLED ON THE COMMON, NOW CITY
HALL PARK, OLD ST. PAUL'S IN THE BACKGROUND . . 169
FROM THE RESOLUTIONS ADOPTED BY CONGRESS, JULY 5, 1 776 . 171
Facsimile of a part of the original draft belonging to the Emmet collection in the Lenox
Library.
TEARING DOWN THE LEADEN STATUE OF GEORGE III., ON BOWL
ING GREEN, NEW YORK, TO CELEBRATE THE SIGNING OF
THE DECLARATION OF INDEPENDENCE . . . -173
THOMAS JEFFERSON WRITING THE DECLARATION OF INDEPEND
ENCE  177
GENERAL NATHANIEL GREENE ....... 1 87
From the painting by Charles IVillson Peale, 1783.
PART OF TABLET MARKING THE LINE OF DEFENCE AT THE
BATTLE OF LONG ISLAND ....... 189
Placed in Brooklyn by the Sons of the Revolution.
GENERAL ISRAEL PUTNAM . . . . . . . . 190
From a portrait by H. I. Thompson, after a pencil-sketch from life by John Trumbull.
BATTLE PASS, PROSPECT PARK, BROOKLYN ..... 191
PRESENT VIEW FROM OLD FORT PUTNAM (NOW FORT GREENE),
BROOKLYN ......... 192
THE RETREAT FROM LONG ISLAND . . . . . -193
THE JUMEL MANSION, WASHINGTON HEIGHTS, NEW YORK CITY . 197
SITE OF FORT WASHINGTON, NEW YORK CITY, LOOKING TOWARD
FORT LEE . . . . . . . . -199
THE RETREAT THROUGH THE JERSEYS ..... 203
209

WASHINGTON S TROOPS DISEMBARKING ON THE TRENTON SHORE
OF THE DELAWARE RIVER ...

THE POINT AT WHICH WASHINGTON CROSSED THE DELAWARE

RIVER

21 I

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS xiii

THE SURPRISE AT TRENTON 
OLD KING STREET (NOW WARREN STREET), TRENTON

A "CALL TO ARMS .......
Reproduced, for the first time, in facsimile (reduced) from the original document.
QUAKER MEETING-HOUSE, NEAR PRINCETON
THE BATTLE OF PRINCETON 
STONY BROOK BRIDGE, NEAR PRINCETON
HOUSE AND ROOM IN WHICH GENERAL MERCER DIED
NASSAU HALL, PRINCETON, ERECTED 1 756 .
GENERAL PHILIP SCHUYLER 
From the painting by Trumbull (1792) in the Yale College Art Gallery.

PAGE 213
215 216218219221222224
232

RUINS OF OLD FORT FREDERICK, CROWN POINT  AT THE PRES
ENT TIME ......... 233
THE HOME OF GENERAL PHILIP SCHUYLER AT OLD SARATOGA,
NEAR SCHUYLERVILLE  234
GENERAL JOHN BURGOYNE ........ 235
From an engraving 'after the painting by Gardner) published in 1784.
THE RAVINE AT ORISKANY, NEW YORK ..... 236
BATTLE OF ORISKANY  237
GENERAL HERKIMER'S HOUSE AT DANUBE, NEAR LITTLE FALLS,
NEW YORK ......... 239
OLD STONE CHURCH AT GERMAN FLATS IN THE MOHAWK VAL
LEY ........... 240
CASTLE CHURCH, NEAR DANUBE, IN THE MOHAWK VALLEY . 241
GENERAL JOHN STARK  242
From tf painting (after Trumbull) by U. D. Tenney, at the State Capitol at Concord, N. H.
THE BATTLE OF BENNINGTON ....... 245
CATAMOUNT TAVERN, BENNINGTON, VT., THE HEAD-QUARTERS OF
GENERAL STARK AND THE COUNCIL OF SAFETY . . 247
Drawn from an old photograph.
MONUMENT AVENUE, BENNINGTON, AT THE PRESENT TIME . 247
GENERAL HORATIO GATES  249
From the hitherto unpublished portrait painted by R. E. Pine, 1783.

xiv LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
PAGE
OLD BATTLE WELL ON FREEMAN'S FARM, AT THE PRESENT
TIME . . . . . . • • • -25I
CELLAR AT THE PRESENT TIME IN THE MARSHALL HOUSE,
SCHUYLERVILLE, WHICH WAS USED AS A HOSPITAL FOR
THE BRITISH ......... 252
THE BURIAL OF GENERAL FRASER .... . . 253
SURRENDER OF BURGOYNE  FAC-SIMILE (REDUCED) OF A PART
OF THE ORIGINAL ARTICLES OF CAPITULATION . . 257
Reproduced, by permission, from the original document in the collection of the New York Histori
cal Society.
SURRENDER OF BURGOYNE ........ 259
BENJAMIN FRANKLIN ......... 273
From the painting by Duplessis, 1778, in the Pennsylvania Academy of Fine Arts, Philadelphia.
washington's head-quarters, near chad's ford, at the
time of the battle of the brandywine . . . 283
Lafayette's head-quarters, near chad's ford, during the
battle of the brandywine ...... 284
battle of the brandywine .... . . 285
birmingham meeting-house, near chad's ford . . . 287
baron knyphausen, commander of the hessians in the
war between england and the united states . . 289
From a drawing, the original of -which is in the possession of the Knyphauscn family.
THE CHEW HOUSE, GERMANTOWN  292
THE ATTACK UPON THE CHEW HOUSE ..... 293
THE REPULSE OF THE HESSIANS UNDER COUNT DONOP AT FORT
MERCER ........ . 297
LAFAYETTE ........ . 300
From a portrait painted by C. IV. Peale in 1780 for Washington.
THE OLD POTTS HOUSE AT VALLEY FORGE, USED BY WASHING
TON AS HEAD-QUARTERS ....... 301
VIEW FROM FORT HUNTINGTON, WITH A PLAN OF THE INTRENCH-
MENTS REMAINING AT VALLEY FORGE .... 303
THE OATH OF ALLEGIANCE TO THE UNITED STATES, SIGNED BY
BENEDICT ARNOLD AT VALLEY FORGE, 1778 . . . 304
OLD BELL USED IN THE CAMP AT VALLEY FORGE . . . 30?

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS xv
PAGE
WINTER AT VALLEY FORGE  307
HOUSE IN ARCH STREET, PHILADELPHIA, WHERE BETSY ROSS
MADE THE FIRST AMERICAN FLAG FROM THE DESIGN
ADOPTED BY CONGRESS ,  312
BARON STEUBEN .......... 315
Painted by C. TV. Peale, in 1780.
BATTLE OF MONMOUTH . . . . . „ . .321

MAPS
PLAN OF THE BATTLE OF BUNKER HILL . . . . -72
After the map made from the surveys of the British Captain Montresor by Lieutenant Page,
aide-de-camp to General Howe.
THE BATTLE OF LONG ISLAND  186
From a British map of 1776-
MAP OF THE SCENE OF THE BURGOYNE CAMPAIGN . . . 231
MAP SHOWING THE SCENE OF OPERATIONS PRECEDING THE BAT
TLE OF MONMOUTH ........ 317

THE STORY OF THE
REVOLUTION

CHAPTER I
THE FIRST STEP
IN 1774 Philadelphia was the largest town in the Amer
ican Colonies. Estimates of the population, which are
all we have, differ widely, but it was probably not far
from 30,000. A single city now has a larger population
than all the colonies possessed in 1774, and there are in the
United States to-day 104 cities and towns of over 30,000
inhabitants. Figures alone, however, cannot express the
difference between those days and our own. Now a town
of 30,000 people is reached by railroads and telegraphs. It
is in close touch with all the rest of the world. Business
brings strangers to it constantly, who come like shadows
and so depart, unnoticed, except by those with whom they
are immediately concerned. This was not the case in 1 774,
not even in Philadelphia, which was as nearly as possible
the central point of the colonies as well as the most popu
lous city. Thanks to the energy and genius of Franklin,
Philadelphia was paved, lighted, and ordered in a way al
most unknown in any other town of that period. It was
Vol! I.— 1 1

2 THE STORY OF THE REVOLUTION
well built and thriving. Business was active and the peo
ple, who were thrifty and prosperous, lived well. Yet, de
spite all these good qualities, we must make an effort of the
imagination to realize how quietly and slowly life moved
then in comparison to the pace of to-day. There in Phil
adelphia was the centre of the postal system of the conti
nent, and the recently established mail-coach called the
"Flying Machine," not in jest but in praise, performed the
journe}' to New York in the hitherto unequalled time of
two days. Another mail at longer intervals crept more
slowly to the South. Vessels of the coastwise traffic, or
from beyond seas, came into port at uncertain times, and
after long and still more uncertain voyages. The daily
round of life was so regular and so uneventful that any in
cident or any novelty drew interest and attention in a way
which would now be impossible.
In this thriving, well-conditioned, prosperous colonial
town, strangers, like events, were not common, and their ap
pearance was sure to attract notice, especially if they gave
evidence of distinction or were known to come with an
important purpose. We can guess easily, therefore, at the
interest which was felt by the people of Philadelphia in the
strangers from other colonies who began to appear on their
streets in the late summer of 1774, although these visitors
were neither unexpected nor uninvited. They were re
ceived, too, with the utmost kindness and with open arms.
We can read in the diary of John Adams how he and his
companions from Massachusetts were feted and dined, and
we can learn from the same authority how generous were
the tables and how much richer was the living among the
followers of William Penn than among the descendants of
the Puritans.

THE FIRST STEP 3
But these men from Massachusetts and from the other
colonies had not travelled over rough roads and long dis-

CARPENTERS' HALL, PHILADELPHIA.

tances simply to try the liberal hospitality of the Quakers
of Philadelphia. They had come there on far more serious
business and with a grave responsibility resting upon them.

THE STORY OF THE REVOLUTION

JOHN J A Y.
The earliest knoiun portrait of him, en
graved, in 1783, from a pencil draining
by Du Simitere, made in 1779.

On September 5th they assem
bled at the City Tavern, and went
thence together to the hall of the
Carpenters, where they deter
mined to hold their meetings.
We can readily imagine how the
little town was stirred and inter
ested as these men passed along
its streets that September morn
ing from the tavern to the hall.
The bystanders who were watch
ing them as they walked by were
trying, no doubt, after the fash
ion of human nature, to pick out and identify those whose
names were already familiar. We may be sure that they
noticed Christopher Gadsden and the two Rutledges from
South Carolina; they must have marked John Jay's calm,
high-bred face, and the vener
able figure of Hopkins of
Rhode Island, while Roger
Sherman of Connecticut, tall,
grave, impressive, with his
strong, handsome features,
could have been readily identi
fied. They certainly looked
with especial eagerness for the
Massachusetts delegates, their
curiosity, we may believe, min
gled with something of the
suspicion and dread which
these particular men then in-
r JOHN ADAMS.
spired in slow-moving, conserv- *•„*, „ painting by Bi,th, ,763.

SAMUEL ADAMS.
Engraved from the portrait painted by Copley in 1773. Now i?t possession of the Boston Museum of Fine Arts.

THE FIRST STEP 7
ative Pennsylvania. When the Boston men came along,
there must have been plenty of people to point out a short,
sturdy, full-blooded man, clearly of a restless, impetuous,
and ardent temperament, and to tell each other that there
was John Adams, the distinguished lawyer and brilliant
debater, whose fame in the last few years had spread far
from his native town. With him was to be seen an older
man, one still better known, and regarded as still more
dangerous, whose fame had gone even across the water to
England, Samuel Adams of Boston. He was taller than
his cousin, with a somewhat stern, set face of the Puritan
type. He was plainly dressed, very likely in dark-brown
cloth, as Copley painted him, and yet his friends had
almost by force fitted him out with clothes suitable for this
occasion, simple as they were, for if left to himself he
would have come as carelessly and roughly clad as was
his habit at home. A man not much given to speech, an
organizer, a manager and master of men, relentless in pur
pose, a planner of revolution, with schemes and outlooks
far beyond most of those about him. Yes, on the whole,
here was a dangerous man to people in high places whom
he meant to disturb or oppose.
And after the bystanders had watched curiously the
New England group, they looked next for those who came
from the great colony of Virginia, which, with Massachu
setts, was to sway the Congress and carry it forward to
stronger measures than the other colonies then desired.
Conspicuous among the Virginians they saw an eminent
member of the Randolph family, and those who were well
informed no doubt wondered why they did not see by Ran
dolph's side the slight figure and keen face of Richard
Henry Lee, a fit representative of the great Virginian

THE STORY OF THE REVOLUTION

PEYTON RANDOLPH, OF VIRGINIA,
THE FIRST PRESIDENT OF THE
CONTINENTAL CONGRESS.
From a painting by C. IV. Peale, 1774.

name, who had come to Phila
delphia, but did not appear in
Congress until the second day.
All these Virginian delegates,
indeed, were well known, by
reputation at least, and there
could have been no difficulty
in singling out among them
the man whose fiery eloquence
had brought the cry of "Trea
son " ringing about his ears in
the House of Burgesses. The
name of Patrick Henry had
been sent across the water, like
that of Samuel Adams, and we
may be sure that the crowd was looking with intense curi
osity* for a sight of the already famous orator. When
they found him they saw a tall, spare man, nearly forty years
of age, with a slight stoop of
the shoulders, a strong, well-
cut face, and keen, penetrating
eyes deeply set beneath a broad
high forehead on which the
furrows of thought had already
come. They must have noted,
too, that he was negligently
dressed, and that he had a very
grave, almost severe, look, un
til a smile came, which light
ed up his face and showed all
the kindliness and sympathy richard henry lee, of vir-
of an emotional nature. „ gin'a.
Painting by C. W. Peale, 1791.

THE FIRST STEP

The names of Henry and of Adams were more familiar
just at that moment than those of any others. They were
the men who by speech and pen had done more than
anyone else to touch the heart and imagination of the
people in the progress of those events which had caused

GEORGE WASHINGTON AT THE AGE OF FORTY.
Painted by Charles Willson Peale, 1772. This picture shows Washington in the uniform of a Virginian
Colonel.
this gathering in Philadelphia. Yet there was one man
there that day who had made no speeches and drawn no
resolutions, but who, nevertheless, was better known than
any of them, and who, alone, among them all, had a
soldier's fame won on hard-fought fields. There was not
much need to point him out, for he was the type of man
that commands attention and does not need identification.

10 THE STORY OF THE REVOLUTION
Very tall and large, admirably proportioned, with every
sign of great physical strength ; a fine head and face of
power, with a strong jaw and a mouth accurately closed ;
calm and silent with a dignity which impressed every
one who ever entered his presence, there was no need
to tell the onlookers that here was Colonel Washing
ton. What he had done they knew. What he was yet
to do no one dreamed, but such was the impression
he made upon all who came near him that we may easily
believe that the people who gazed at him in the streets
felt dumbly what Patrick Henry said for those who
met him in the Congress : " Washington is unquestion
ably the greatest of them all." Thus he came to the
opening scene of the Revolution as he went back to
Mount Vernon at the war's close, quietly and silently, the
great figure of the time, the doer of deeds to whom Con
gress and people turned as by instinct. On the way "to
Philadelphia, Pendleton and Henry had joined him at
Mount Vernon and passed the night there, hospitably re
ceived in the Virginian fashion both by their host and by
Mrs. Washington, who was a woman of pronounced views
and had the full courage of her convictions. To Pendle
ton and Henry she said : "I hope you will all stand firm.
I know George will." It is a delightful speech to have
been spared to us through the century, with its knowledge
of her husband's character and its touch of wifely com
mand. Only a few years before, a mother across the water
had been saying to her son, " George, be a king," and the
worthy, stubborn man with his limited intelligence was
trying now to obey that mother in his own blundering
fashion. How far apart they seem, the German Princess
and the Virginian lady, with their commands to husband

THE FIRST STEP

u

and to son. And yet the great forces of the time were
bringing the two men steadily together in a conflict which
was to settle the fate of a nation. They were beginning
to draw very near to each other on that September morn
ing ; the king by accident of birth, and the king who
would never wear a crown, but who was appointed to lead

THE ASSEMBLY ROOM, CARPENTERS' HALL, WHERE THE CONTINENTAL
CONGRESS FIRST MET.

men by the divine right of the greatness of mind and will
which was in him.
George Washington, ascending the steps of Carpen
ters' Hall, knew all about the other George, and had been
proud to call himself the loyal subject of his namesake.
The British George, with no English blood in his veins,
except the little drop which came to him from the poor
Winter Queen, had probably never heard even the name
of the American soldier, although he was destined to learn

12 THE STORY OF THE REVOLUTION
a great deal about him in the next few years. Yet Wash
ington was much the best-known man in America, with
the single exception of Franklin, whose scientific work
and whose missions to England had given him a European
reputation. Washington had commanded the troops in
that little action in the wilderness when the first shot of
the Seven Years' War was fired, a war in which Frederick
of Prussia had made certain famous campaigns and which
had cost France her hold on North America. Later he
had saved the wretched remnants of Braddock's army, his.
name had figured in gazettes, and had been embalmed in
Horace Walpole's letters. That, however, was all twenty
years before, and was probably quite forgotten in 1774
outside America. Samuel Adams was known in England,
as Percy was known to the Prince of Wales, for a "very
valiant rebel of that name." Possibly John Adams and
Patrick Henry had been heard of in similar fashion. But
as a whole, the members of the first American Congress
were unknown outside the colonies, and many of them
were not known beyond the limits of the particular colony
they represented. To England and her ministers and
people these forty or fifty grave gentlemen, lawyers, mer
chants, and planters, were merely a body of obscure col
onial persons who were meeting in an unauthorized man
ner for distinctly treasonable and objectionable purposes.
To the courts of Europe, engaged at the moment in
meaningless intrigues, either foreign or domestic, and all
alike grown quite dim now, this Colonial Congress was
not even obscure, it was not visible at all. Yet, thought-
fully regarded, it deserved consideration much better
than anything which just then engaged the attention of
Europe. Fifteen years later its utterances were to be

THE FIRST STEP 13
quoted as authority, and its example emulated in Paris
when an ancient monarchy was tottering to its fall. It
was the start of a great movement which was to sweep on
until checked at Waterloo. This same movement was to
begin its march again in 1830 in the streets of Paris and
carry the reform of the British Parliament two years later.
It was to break forth once more in 1848 and keep steadily
on advancing and conquering, although its work is still
incomplete even among the nations of Western civiliza
tion. Yet, no one in Europe heeded it at the moment,
and they failed to see that it meant not simply a colonial
quarrel, not merely the coming of a new nation, but the
rising of the people to take their share in the governments
of the earth. It was in fact the first step in the great
democratic movement which has made history ever since.
The columns were even then beginning to move, and the
beat of the drums could be heard faintly in the quiet Phil
adelphia streets. They were still distant, but they were
ever drawing nearer, and their roll went on rising louder
and louder, until at last they sounded in the ears of men
from Concord Bridge to Moscow.
Why did this come about ? Why was it that the first
step in a world Revolution destined to wrest her colo
nies from England, bring a reign of terror to France, and
make over the map of Europe before it passed away, was
taken in the peaceful town of Philadelphia ? There was
nothing inevitable about the American Revolution, con
sidered by itself. The colonies were very loyal, very
proud to be a part of the great British Empire. If the
second-rate men who governed England at that time had
held to the maxim of their great predecessor, Sir Robert
Walpole, quieta non movere, and like him had let the col-

14 THE STORY OF THE REVOLUTION
onies carefully alone ; or if they had been ruled by the
genius of Pitt and had called upon the colonies as part of
the empire to share in its glories and add to its greatness,
there would have been no American Revolution. But they
insisted on meddling, and so the trouble began with the
abandonment of Walpole's policy. They added to this
blunder by abusing and sneering at the colonists instead of
appealing, like Pitt, to their loyalty and patriotism. Even
then, after all their mistakes, they still might have saved
the situation which they had themselves created. A few
concessions, a return to the old policies, and all would
have been well. They made every concession finally, but
each one came just too late, and so the colonies were lost
by sheer stupidity and blundering on the part of the king
and his ministers.
From this point of view, then, there was nothing inev
itable about the American Revolution. It was created by
a series of ministerial mistakes, each one of which could
have been easily avoided. From another point of view,
however, it was absolutely inevitable, the inexorable result
of the great social and political forces which had long
been gathering and now were beginning to move forward.
The first resistance to the personal monarchies which grew
up from the ruins of the feudal system came in England,
the freest and best-governed country in the world of the
seventeenth century. The people rose and destroyed the
personal government which Charles I. tried to set up, not
because they were oppressed and crushed by tyranny, nor
because they had grievances too heavy to be borne, but be
cause they were a free people, jealous of their rights, with
the instinct of liberty strong within them. In the same
way when the great democratic movement started, at the

THE FIRST STEP 15
close of the eighteenth century, it began in England, wThere
there was no despotic personal monarchy, where personal
liberty was most assured, and where freedom existed in the
largest measure. The abuses of aristocracy and monarchy
in England were as nothing to what they were on the con
tinent. The subjects of George III. were not ground
down by taxes, were not sold to military service, were not
trampled on by an aristocracy and crushed by their king.
They were the freest, best-governed people on earth, faulty
as their government no doubt was in many respects. Yet
it was among the English-speaking people that we detect
the first signs of the democratic movement, for, as they
were the least oppressed, so they were the most sensitive
to any abuse or to any infringement upon the liberties
they both prized and understood. The entire English peo
ple, both at home and abroad, were thus affected. The
Middlesex elections, the career of Wilkes, the letters of
Junius, the resolution of Burke against the increasing
power of the Crown, the rising demand for Parliamentary
reform, the growing hostility to the corrupt system of bar
gain and intrigue, by which the great families parcelled out
offices and seats and controlled Parliament, all pointed in
the same direction, all were signs of an approaching storm.
If the revolution had not come in the American colonies,
it would have come in England itself. The storm broke
in the colonies for the same reason which had made the
English strike down at its very inception the personal mon
archy of the seventeenth century, and which forced them
to be the first to exhibit signs of deep political unrest in
the last quarter of the eighteenth century. The colonies
were the least-governed, the best-governed, and the freest
part of the dominion of Great Britain. A people who for

16 THE STORY OF THE REVOLUTION
a hundred and fifty years had practically governed them
selves, and who, like all other English-speaking people,
understood the value of their liberties, were the quickest
to feel and to resent any change which seemed to signify
a loss of absolute freedom, and were sure to be the most
jealous of anything like outside interference. America
rebelled, not because the colonies were oppressed, but
because their inhabitants were the freest people then in the
world, and did not mean to suffer oppression. They did
not enter upon resistance to England to redress intolerable
grievances, but because they saw a policy adopted which
they rightly believed threatened the freedom they possessed.
As Burke said, they judged " the pressure of the grievance
by the badness of the principle," and " snuffed the approach
of tyranny in every tainted breeze." They were the most
dangerous people in the world to meddle with, because
they were ready to fight, not to avenge wrongs which in
deed they had not suffered, but to maintain principles upon
which their rights and liberty rested. The English min
istry had begun to assail those principles ; they were mak
ing clumsy and hesitating attempts to take money from the
colonies without leave of the people ; and George, in a be
lated way, was trying to be a king and revive an image of
the dead and gone personal monarchy of Charles I. Hence
came resistance, very acute in one colony, shared more or
less by all. Hence the Congress in Philadelphia and the
great popular movement starting as if inevitably in that
quiet colonial town among the freest portion of the liberty-
loving English race.
It was these great forces which, moving silently and
irresistibly, had brought these English colonists from their
plantations and offices, and sent them along the streets of

THE FIRST STEP 17

GENERAL JOHN SULLIVAN
From the original pencil- sketch made by John Trumbull, at Exeter, N. H.t in 1790. Now published, for the first
time, by the permissiojt of his grandso7i, in whose possession the original now is.
Philadelphia to Carpenters' Hall. The deepest causes of
the movement, stretching far out among the nations of the
West, were quite unrecognized then, but nevertheless the
men were there to carry on the work, forty-four of them
in all, and representing eleven colonies. In a few days
North Carolina's delegates appeared, and one by one others
Vol. I.— 2

18 THE STORY OF THE REVOLUTION
who had been delayed, until fifty-five members were present,
and all the colonies represented but Georgia. They went
to work after the orderly fashion of their race, elected
Peyton Randolph, of Virginia, President, and Charles
Thomson, a patriotic citizen of Philadelphia, Secretary.
Then they turned to the practical and very far-reaching
question of how they should vote, whether by colonies or
by population. "A little colony," said John Sullivan, of
New Hampshire, " has its all at stake as well as a great
one." " Let us rest on a representation of men," said
Henry. " British oppression has effaced the boundaries of
the several colonies ; the distinctions between Virginians,
Pennsylvanians, New Yorkers, and New Englanders are
no more. I am not a Virginian, but an American." Two
contending principles on which American history was to
turn were thus announced at the very outset. Sullivan's
was the voice of the time, of separation and State rights.
Henry's was the voice of the distant future, of union and
of nationality. It took more than eighty years of union,
and a great civil war, to establish the new principle pro
claimed by Henry. At the moment it had no chance, and
the doctrine of Sullivan, in harmony with every prejudice
as well as every habit of thought, prevailed, and they de
cided to vote by colonies, each colony having one vote.
Then they appointed committees and fell to work.
There was much debate, much discussion, many wide dif
ferences of opinion, but these lovers of freedom sat with
closed doors, and the result, which alone reached the world,
went forth with all the force of unanimous action. We
know now what the debates and the differences were, and
they are not of much moment. The results are the im
portant things, as the Congress wisely thought at the time.

¦&*,^fe ^^ ^^, ^su

THE

A

SSOCIATION, &c. I !

W

E, his Majefty:s rnoft loyal fubiefts, the g
Delegates of the feveral Colonies of fe;
o

New-Hampfhire, Maflachufett's Bay, Rhode-
Ifiand, Connecticut, New-York, New Jerfey, ¦ &*•
Pennfylvania, the Three Lower Counties of Sj
Ncwcaftle, Kent, and SufTex, on Delaware, ! ^
Maryland, Virginia, North-Carolina, and South- S
Carolina, deputed to reprelent them in a conti- h
nental Congrefs, held in the city of Philadel- ; ^ i1
phia, on the fifth day of September, 1774, I q ^
, avowing our allegiance to his Majcfty, our af- I S S S
feftion and regard for our fellow-fubje&s in 5j
Great-Britain and elfewKere, affefted with the 2

8

c

-j-, -~

'. Congrefs. Philadelphia, October 20, 1774.

C '.'/

^Jl'dm I ^

?^

% 1 1 n
The foregoing Aflbciation being determined ^ 4 *|
upon by the Congress, was ordered to be fub- <i | ||
teribed by the feveral Members thereof; and "1 -g ;.l
thereupon we have hereunto fee our refpeftivr [ v, f ||;
names accordingly. I q ¦*¦ £§¦*

J/U-^ /z-t-" ¦x/l e^rr' */trfj} »-¦ */"2 * / f ct^-*^*^

J; S |<58
f « 'sis
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20 THE STORY OF THE REVOLUTION
True to the traditions and instincts of their race, they de
cided to rest their case upon historic rather than natural
rights. They adopted a Declaration of Rights, an address
to the people of Great Britain drawn by Jay, and an ad
dress to the King by John Dickinson. Both Jay and Dick
inson were moderate men, and the tone of the addresses
was fair and conciliatory. On the motion of the dangerous

JOHN DICKINSON, OF PENNSYLVANIA.
From a painting by C. W. Peale, 1791.

John Adams, they conceded the right of the mother-
country to regulate their external trade, while at the same
time they firmly denied the right to tax them without their
consent, or to change their form of government. The
case was argued with great force and ability. It appeared
when all was done and the arguments published to the world,
that these obscure colonial persons, whose names were un
known in the courts of Europe, had produced some remark
able state papers. " When your lordships," said Chatham,

THE FIRST STEP 21
" look at the papers transmitted us from America, when
you consider their decency, firmness, and wisdom, you can
not but respect their cause and wish to make it your own.
For myself, I must avow that in all my reading — and I
have read Thucydides, and have studied and admired the
master states of the world — for solidity of reason, force of
sagacity, and wisdom of conclusion under a complication
of difficult circumstances, no body of men can stand in
preference to the general Congress at Philadelphia. The
histories of Greece and Rome give us nothing equal to it,
and all attempts to impose servitude on such a mighty
continental nation must be in vain. We shall be forced
ultimately to retract ; let us retract when we can ; not
when we must." Pregnant words ! The man who had led
England to the greatest heights of glory detected a deep
meaning in this little American Congress at Philadelphia.
He saw that they had left the door wide open to a settle
ment and adjustment of all difficulties, that they wished
to avert and not gain independence, that their cause was
strong and the conquest of a continent impossible, and so
he pleaded with England to look and learn. But Chat
ham had the eye of a great statesman, while the King and
ministry wrere dull and blind. He spoke in vain ; he read
the writing on the wall to deaf ears. The rulers of Eng
land neither saw the open door of reconciliation nor com
prehended the dangers which lurked behind. They paid
no heed to arguments and pleas ; they felt only irritation
at the measures which went with the words of the addresses.
For Congress had not only spoken but acted. Before
they adjourned on October 26th, they had passed a resolve
against the slave-trade ; they had signed agreements to
neither import nor export, exempting rice alone from the

22 THE STORY OF THE REVOLUTION
prohibition of trade with England ; they appointed a sec
ond Congress, and they voted to sustain Massachusetts,
where the conflict had begun and was now fast culminat
ing, in her resistance to England. Not at all palatable
this last vote to an honest gentleman of German parentage
who was trying to be a king. It is to be feared that it had
more effect on the royal mind than all the loyal addresses
ever penned. George did not like people who favored re
sistance of any kind to what he wanted, and his ministers
were engaged in sharing his likes and dislikes at that period
for personal reasons very obvious to themselves. Highly
offensive too was the proposition to have another Con
gress, inasmuch as the very existence of a Continental
Congress meant union, and the ministry relied on disunion
among the colonies for success. Arranging for a second
Congress looked unpleasantly like a determination to
persist, and as if these men were so satisfied of the
goodness of their cause that they were bent on having
what they wanted, even at some little cost. In that pur
pose, unfortunately, they were somewhat like the King
himself. Yet to all men now, and to many intelligent
men then, it seemed a pity to lose these great colonies, so
anxious to remain loyal and to continue part of the British
Empire, merely for the sake of taxing them against their
will. All England had heard Chatham, and all England
knew from him what this Congress meant. After he had
spoken no one could plead ignorance. It only remained
to see what England's rulers would do, and it soon became
clear that England's rulers would do nothing except persist
in their policy of force. Meantime the Congress dispersed
and the members scattered to their homes to wait upon
events. They had not long to wait, for they had begun the

THE FIRST STEP 23
American Revolution, loyal, peaceful, and anxious for
reconciliation as they were.
The English ministry it is certain did not comprehend
at all what this Congress meant. They were engaged in
the congenial task of undertaking to rule a continental
empire as if it were a village. This method was well
adapted to their own mental calibre, but was not suited
to the merciless realities of the case. Therefore they re
garded the Congress as merely an audacious performance
which was to be frowned upon, punished, and put down.
The members of the Congress themselves took a much
graver and juster view of what had happened. They
realized that the mere fact of a Congress was itself of
great moment, that it meant union, and that union was
the first step toward an American nation which could only
come from the breaking down of local barriers and the
fusion of all the colonies for a common purpose. They
were against independence, and yet they saw, what the
King and his ministers could not understand, that it was
a very near possibility if the existing situation was con
tinued. But it is also clear that they failed to see be
hind the possibility of independence the deeper signifi
cance of the work in which they were engaged. This
was only natural, for they were properly absorbed in the
practical and pressing questions with which they were
called to deal. They could not be expected to grasp and
formulate the fact that they were beginning the battle of
the people, everywhere to secure control of their own
governments for which they paid and fought. Yet the
doctrine had been laid down for them twelve years before.
In 1762 James Otis, with one of those flashes of deep in
sight which made him one of the most remarkable of all

24 TFIE STORY OF THE REVOLUTION
the men who led the way to revolution, had declared in a
pamphlet that " Kings were made for the good of the
people, and not the people for them." This was one of
the propositions on which he rested his argument. For
gotten in the passage of time, and lost in the hurly-burly
of events, here was a declaration which went far beyond
any question of colonial rights or even of American in
dependence. Here was a doctrine subversive of all exist
ing systems in the eighteenth century, and as applicable
to Europe as to America. Now in 1774 a Congress
had met and had acted unconsciously, but none the less
efficiently, upon Otis's proposition. For, stripped of all
disguises and all temporary questions, this was what the
Congress meant : that the people of America did not pro
pose to have Great Britain govern them, except as they
pleased, and that they intended to control their own gov
ernments and govern themselves. Congress had taken
the first step along this new road. They could still turn
back. The English ministry had still time to yield. But
the irrevocable decision was to be made elsewhere, not
in London nor in Philadelphia, not among ministers or
members of Congress, but by certain plain men with arms
in their hands, far away to the North, whose action would
put it beyond the power of Congress to retreat, even if
they had desired to do so.

CHAPTER II
THE FIRST BLOW
IN Philadelphia, then, Congress took the first step in
the Revolution, and set forth, in firm and able fashion,
the arguments on which they rested their case and by
which they still hoped to convince the reason and appeal
to the affection of the English people and the English
King. They were far from convinced that they would
not succeed in securing a change of the British policy
which they were resolved to resist, as they had already
done in the case of the Stamp Act, ten years before.
They could not even yet believe that the series of meas
ures directed against Boston and Massachusetts showed
a settled determination on the part of the rulers of Eng
land to make them subject to an irresponsible government,
which they never had endured and to which they never
would submit.
When Congress adjourned, on October 26th, much
had been done, but the question was not to be settled in
the field of debate. The dread appeal from Parliaments
and Ministries and Congresses was to be taken elsewhere,
taken under the pressure of inexorable circumstances by
the people themselves. Among those men whose an
cestors had followed Pym and Hampden and Cromwell
when they crushed crown and church in one common
25

26 THE STORY OF THE REVOLUTION
ruin ; whose forefathers, a hundred years before, defying
Charles II., had sent his commissioners, beaten and help
less, home, and later, had imprisoned and banished James
IP's governor, this new resistance to England first took
on form and substance. There, in Massachusetts, that
resistance had grown and culminated since the days of the
Stamp Act. In that colony there was a powerful clergy
determined to prevent the overthrow of the Puritan
churches and the setting up of the Church of England.
In the streets of Boston there had been rioting and blood
shed, and Americans had been killed by the fire of British
troops. On that devoted town had fallen the punishment
of an angry ministry, and her closed harbor told the story
of a struggle which had already passed from words to deeds.
There feeling was tense and strained, arguments were
worn out, an independent provincial government was fac
ing that of the King, and popular leaders were in danger
of arrest and death. Such a situation could not last long.
The only question was, when and where the break would
come. When would the power of England make a move
which would cause the democracy of America to strike at
it with the armed hand ? That once done, all would be
done. Congress would then cease to argue and begin to
govern, and the sword would decide whether the old
forces or the new were to rule in America.
Looking at the situation now it is clear enough that
the break was destined to come from some attempt by the
British authorities in Massachusetts to stop military prep
arations on the part of the colonists by seizing their
stores and munitions of war, or by arresting their leaders.
That such attempts on the part of the British were reason
able enough, provided that they both expected and de-

THE FIRST BLOW

27

sired hostilities, no one can deny. If one wishes to ex
plode a powder-magazine, it is sensible to fire the train
which leads to it. But if one does not desire to explode

CONCORD BRIDGE A T THE PRESENT TIME.

gunpowder, it is prudent not to throw lighted matches
about in its immediate neighborhood. The British acted
on the superficial aspect of the case, without considering
ultimate possibilities and results. They kept lighting

28 THE STORY OF THE REVOLUTION
matches to see whether the explosive substances under
their charge were all right, and finally they dropped one in
the magazine. Poor Gage and the rest of the English
commanders in Massachusetts are not to be much blamed
for what they did. They were a set of commonplace,
mediocre men, without imagination and without knowl
edge, suddenly called upon to deal with what they thought
was a little case of rather obstinate disorder and bad tem
per in a small colony, but which was really a great force
just stirring into life, and destined to shake continents and
empires before its course was stayed. Small wonder, then,
that they dealt with a great problem in a little wrong-
headed conventional way, and reached the results which
are to be expected when men trifle with world-forces in
that careless and stupid fashion.
Thus Gage, even before Congress had assembled, sent
over to Quarry Hill, near Boston, and seized cannons and
stores. Thereupon armed crowds in Cambridge next day,
tumult and disorder in the streets, the Lieutenant-Gov
ernor, Oliver, forced to resign, and bloodshed prevented
only by Joseph Warren, summoned in haste from Boston.
Reported in Philadelphia, this affair took on the form of
fighting and bloodshed near Boston, and the chaplain of
Congress read from the Psalm: " Lord, how long wilt
thou look on ? Stir up thyself, and awake to my judg
ment, even unto my cause, my God and my Lord."
Worth considering, this little incident, if there had been
men able to do so in England at that moment. To those
who had attentive ears and minds there was an echo there
of the words of the great Puritan captain at Dunbar,
speaking in a way very memorable to the world of Eng
land. When men of English blood side by side with the

THE FIRST BLOW 29
children of the Huguenots and the sons of Scotch Cov
enanters and of the men of Londonderry begin to pray
after that fashion, a dangerous spirit is abroad and one
not lightly to be tampered with.
Gage, knowing and caring nothing about prayers or
anything else at Philadelphia, but annoyed by the out
break at Cambridge, felt in his dull way that something
was wrong, and began to fortify Boston Neck. Some
how he could not get his work done very well. He had
his barges sunk, his straw fired, his wagons mired, all in
unexplained ways, and the works were not finished until
November. At the same time his movements excited
alarm and suspicion, not only in Boston, but elsewhere.
In December the cannon were taken away at Newport by
the Governor, so that the British could not get them. A
little later the people at Portsmouth, N. H., entered the
fort and carried off, for their own use and behoof, the guns
and the powder.
The trouble was spreading ominously and evidently.
Massachusetts for her part knew now that the continent
was behind her, and the Provincial Congress in February
declared their wish for peace and union, but advised prep
aration for war. How much effect the wishes had can
not be said, but the advice at least was eagerly followed.
The people of Salem, in pursuance of the injunction, be
gan to mount cannon, and Gage thereupon sent three
hundred men to stop the work. The town was warned in
time. A great crowd met the soldiers at the bridge, and
Colonel Leslie, shrinking from the decisive step, with
drew. It was a narrow escape. Soldiers and people had
come face to face and had looked in each others' eyes.
The conflict was getting very close.

30 THE STORY OF THE REVOLUTION

THE OLD BUCKMAN TAVERN, BUILT ibqo.
Stands on the edge of Lexington Common. It luas here that the Minute Men gathered after the alarm on the
night before the fight.

Again, at the end of March, Gage sent out Lord
Percy with some light troops, who marched as far as
Jamaica Plain and returned. The Minute Men gathered,
but once more the opposing forces stared in each others'
faces and parted as they met. The Provincial Congress
adjourned on April 15th. Still the peace was unbroken,
but the storm was near at hand. British officers had been
scouring the country for information, and they knew that
John Hancock and Samuel Adams had taken refuge in

THE FIRST BLOW

3i

Lexington, and that munitions of war were stored at Con
cord, a few miles farther on. It was thereupon determined
to seize both the rebel leaders and the munitions at Con
cord. Other expeditions had failed. This one must suc
ceed. All should be done in secret, and the advantage of a
surprise was to be increased by the presence of an over
whelming force. The British commander managed well,
but not quite well enough. It is difficult to keep military
secrets in the midst of an attentive people, and by the
people themselves the discovery was made. Paul Revere
had some thirty mechanics organ- ,
ized to watch and report the move
ments of the British, and these men
now became convinced that an ex
pedition was on foot, and one of a
serious character. The movement
of troops and boats told the story
to watchers, with keen eyes and
ears, who believed that
their rights were in
peril. They were soon
satisfied that the expe
dition was intended for
Lexington and Con
cord, to seize the lead
ers and the stores ; and
acting promptly
on this belief
they gave notice
to their chiefs in
Boston and de
ter mined to

Tht Signal Lanterns of
PAUL REVERE
ditplayei in ln= lUcple of thii church
April i3 1775
warned the country of the march
01 the Bntlfh troop: to
Lexington and concord.

• 0,1 '

32 THE STORY OF THE REVOLUTION
thwart the enemy's plans by warning and rousing the
country. On April 18th, Warren sent William Dawes by land
over the Neck to Roxbury and thence to Lexington to
carry the news. Paul Revere arranged to have lantern
signals shown in the belfry of the Old North Church,
" one if by land, and two if by sea," and then went home,
dressed himself for a night-ride, and taking a boat rowed
over to Charlestown. It was a beautiful and quiet even
ing. As his boat slipped along he noted that the Somerset
man-of-war was just winding with the tide, then at young
flood. The moon was rising and shed its peaceful light
upon the scene. Arrived at Charlestown, Revere secured
a horse and waited. At eleven o'clock two lights gleamed
from the belfry of the Old North Church, showing that
the troops were going by water to Cambridge, and Re
vere mounted and rode away. He crossed Charlestown
Neck, and as he passed the spot where a felon had been
hung in chains, he saw two British officers waiting to stop
him. One tried to head him, one sought to take him.
But Revere knew his country. He turned back sharply
and then swung into the Medford road. His pursuer fell
into a clay-pit and Revere rode swiftly to Medford,
warned the captain of the Minute Men, and then galloped
on, rousing every house and farm and village until he
reached Lexington. There he awakened Adams and
Hancock and was joined by Dawes and by Dr. Samuel
Prescott. After a brief delay the three started to alarm
the country between Lexington and Concord. They had
ridden but a short distance when they were met by four
British officers who barred the road. Prescott jumped his
horse over a stone wall and escaped, carrying the alarm to

THE FIRST BLOW

33

PAUL REVERE ROUSING THE INHABITANTS ALONG THE ROAD TO
LEXINGTON.

Concord. Revere rode toward a wood, when six more
British officers appeared and he was made a prisoner and
forced to return with Dawes and his captors to Lexington.
There he was released, and as soon as he was free he per-
Vol. I. — 3

34

THE STORY OF THE REVOLUTION

suaded Adams and Hancock to go to Woburn, and after
accompanying them returned to get their papers and
effects. As he was engaged in this work he heard firing,
and the sound told him that
he had not ridden through
the night in vain. A mem
orable ride in truth it was,
one which spread alarm at the
time and has been much sung
and celebrated since. Perhaps
the fact which is best worth re
membering is that it was well
done and answered its purpose.
Under the April moonlight,
Revere and Dawes and Pres
cott galloped hard and fast.
Brave men, and efficient, they
defeated the British plans and
warned the country. The new day, just dawning when
Revere heard the firing, was to show the value of their
work. They had had, indeed, but little time to spare. As
Revere was mounting his horse, Lieutenant-Colonel Smith,
with eight hundred men, was crossing the Back Bay from
Boston to Lechmere Point. At two o'clock he had his
men landed, and they set forth at once, silently and rapidly,
toward Lexington. So far all had gone well, but as they
marched there broke upon their ears the sound of guns and
bells, some near, some distant, but in every one the note
of alarm. The country was not asleep, then ? On the
contrary, it seemed to be wide awake. All about among
the hills and meadows armed men were gathered at the

PAUL REVERE, BY ST. MEM IN,
1804.

THE FIRST BLOW 35
little meeting-houses, and falling into line prepared for
action. Here, in the tolling of the bells and the sound
of signal-guns, was much meaning and cause for anxiety.
Colonel Smith became worried, sent back to Boston for
reinforcements to beat these farmers at whom he and his
friends had scoffed so often, and ordered Major Pitcairn
forward to Lexington with six light companies, still hopeful
of surprise. Major Pitcairn picks up everybody he meets,
to prevent alarm being given ; but one Bowman, an active
and diligent person, as it would seem, and a brave soldier of
the last French war, eludes him, rides hotly to Lexington, and
warns the Minute Men, who have been waiting since two
o'clock, and had almost come to believe that the British
were not advancing at all. So when Major Pitcairn got
to Lexington Green, about half past four,' thanks to Bow
man's warning, there were some sixty or seventy men as
sembled to meet him. " Disperse, ye rebels ; disperse ! "
cried Major Pitcairn, and rode toward them. There was
much discussion then, and there has been much more since,
as to who fired first. It matters not. It is certain that
the British poured in
a volley and followed
it up with others. The
Minute Men, not yet
realizing that the de
cisive moment had major pitcairn :s pistols.
COme, hesitated, SOme These pistols were taken from Pitcairu's horse, and a few days af
terward were presented to Israel Putnam, who carried them
StandinP" their PTOUnd throughout the war. Later they were presented to the Cary
& Library, and are now in the Town Hall at Lexington.
some scattering. They
fired a few straggling shots, wounded a couple of British
soldiers, and drew off. Eight Americans were killed and
ten wounded. One of the eight had carried the standard

36

THE STORY OF THE REVOLUTION

when American troops captured Louisburg, and thus re
deemed for England an otherwise ineffective war. One
was wounded and bayoneted afterward. One dragged
himself to the door of his house and died on the threshold
at his wife's feet. What matters it who fired first ? The
first blow had been struck, the first blood shed. The peo-

l'< U

1 stano vcup hkolKO ¦;¦../'
COHT FIAE UNLESS FtRED UPOR J£g
' BUT If THEY MEAN TO W.'JE A VAP, -- ^f<r..
UT IT BEGIN HERE " t5jg
ijSsL^ M _-_-_,  *$Mk

HARRINGTON HOUSE, LEXINGTON.
In the foreground, on the Common, is a large stone marking the li?ie of the Minute Men. Jonathan Harrington,
after being shot, dragged himself to his doorstep and there died at his wife's feet.

pie, in obedience to the orders of a Provincial Congress,
had faced the soldiers of England in arms. They had
been fired upon and had returned the fire. It was not a
battle, hardly a skirmish. But it said to all the world that
a people intended to govern themselves, and would die
sooner than yield ; a very pregnant fact, speaking much
louder than words and charged with many meanings. A
wholly new thing this was indeed, to have people ready to

THE FIGHT ON LEXINGTON COMMON, APRIL iq, V75-
j dr„„ ,w of the Kattle of Lexington was made by Earl, a portrait painter, and engraved by Amos Doolittle (both soldiers of tile Connecticut Company), from narratives
afA^S^^t£^^^'^"m^'hn' '™ ari° "" J,s'"- Thu d'awi"x "•••" """"" "u bat so""e o/ •"/"¦»"•'•<"'• bu' " has <¦«" «'tpi«"""«i >>j ""/"'
studies of other documents.

THE FIRST BLOW

39

die in battle for their rights, when a large part of the rulers
of the civilized world did not recognize that they had any
rights to either die or live for. A great example to be
deeply considered, and destined to bear much fruit, was
given by those brave men who died on Lexington Green
in the fair dawn of that April morning.
The British formed after the encounter, fired a volley,

GENERAL VIEW OF LEXINGTON COMMON AT THE PRESENT TIME.

and gave three cheers for their victory. If a victory is to
be judged by what it costs, it must be admitted that this
one was but modestly celebrated, for it is safe to say that
it was the most expensive victory ever won by England.
From another point of view the celebration was premature,
for the day was not over and there was still much to be
done. The English soldiers had killed some Massachusetts
farmers, but they had missed the rebel leaders at Lexing-

40 THE STORY OF THE REVOLUTION
ton. No time was to be lost if they were to carry out the
second part of their mission and destroy the stores at
Concord. Thither, therefore, they marched as rapidly as
possible. Colonel Smith, a little disturbed by the fighting
on Lexington Green, and still more anxious as to the
future, not liking the looks of things, perhaps, was wonder-

LORD PERCY.
JVhose timely arrival relieved the British troops under Colonel Smith
From a print lent by W. C. Crane.
ing, no doubt, whether they were sending from Boston the
aid he had sent for. His messenger, if he could have
known it, was safely in Boston at that moment, and Gage
gave heed at once to the appeal. There were blunders and
delays, but, nevertheless, between eight and nine o'clock,
Lord Percy, with about a thousand men — soldiers and
marines — was marching out of Boston. A boy named
Harrison Gray Otis, destined to much distinction in later

THE FIRST BLOW 41
years, was delayed in getting to school that morning by
the troops marching along Tremont Street. He reached
the Latin School in time, however, to hear Lovell, the
schoolmaster, say, " War's begun. School's done. Dimit-
tite libros," and then rush out with his fellows to see the
red-coats disappear in the direction of the Neck. War
was in the air. No news of Lexington had yet come, but
it was a popular revolution which was beginning, and the
popular instinct knew that the hour had struck. When
the British reached Roxbury, Williams, the schoolmaster
there, like Lovell in Boston, dismissed the school, locked
the door, joined the minute-men, and served for seven years
in the American army before returning to his home. As
Lord Percy rode along the band played " Yankee Doodle,"
and a boy shouted and laughed at him from the side of the
road. Lord Percy asked him what he meant, and the boy
replied, " To think how you will dance by and by to 'Chevy
Chase.' "* The contemporary witness who chronicles this
little incident for us says the repartee stuck to Lord Percy
all day. One cannot help wondering whether it made
certain lines like these run in his head :
" The child that is unborn shall rue
The hunting of that day."
Again it is the voice of the people, of the schoolmaster
and his scholars, of the boys in the street. Very trivial
seemingly all this at the moment, yet with much real mean
ing for those who were engaged in bringing on the con-
* There is no doubt that the band played " Yankee Doodle " in derision, but the
boy!s answer is so very apt, and apt for Lord Percy above all other men on earth, that
it seems as if it must be an invention. Yet we have it from Dr. Gordon, a Contem
porary on the spot, writing down all incidents at the moment, and he was a pains
taking, intelligent chronicler.

42

THE STORY OF THE REVOLUTION

flict, if they had been able to interpret it. It certainly was
not heeded or thought about at all by Lord Percy as he
marched on through Roxbury, whence, swinging to the
right across the meadows and marshlands, he passed over
the bridge to Cambridge, and thence away to Lexington,
along the route already taken by the earlier detachment.

4.'> /

>v ^ J {• ¦: - JK^V Wy '- ' ¦ • A U ' if-

.- s-i.i

¦ X i- i
\

BARRETT HOUSE, NEAR CONCORD.
Where military stores were secreted, and also one of the objective points of the expedition under Colonel Smith.
Meantime, while Lord Percy was setting out, Smith
and his men got to Concord, only to find cannon and
stores, for the most part, gone. A few guns to be
spiked, the court-house to be set on fire, some barrels of
flour to be broken open, made up the sum of what they
were able to do. For this work small detachments were
sent out. One went to the North Bridge, had in fact
crossed over, when they perceived, on the other side, the

THE FIGHT AT CONCORD BRIDGE, APRIL iq, 177s-

THE FIRST BLOW

45

Minute Men who had assembled to guard the town, and
who now advanced, trailing their guns. The British with
drew to their own side of the bridge and
began to take it up. Major Buttrick re
monstrated against this proceeding, and
ordered his men to quicken their step.
As they approached the British fired, inef
fectually at first, then with closer aim, and
two or three Americans fell. Buttrick
sprang forward, shouting, " Fire, fellow-
soldiers ! For God's sake fire!" The
moment had come ; the Americans fired,
not straggling shots now, as in the sur
prise at Lexington, but intending serious
business. Two soldiers were killed and
several wounded. The Americans poured
over the bridge, the British retreated, and
the Concord fight was over. The shot,
"heard round the world," had been fired
to good purpose, both there and elsewhere. It echoed far,
that shot of the Concord and Acton farmers, not because
it was in defence of the principle that there must be no tax
ation without representation, not even because it portended
the independence of America, but because it meant, as those
fired on Lexington Common meant, that a people had aris
en, determined to fight for the right to govern themselves.
It meant that the instinct which pressed the triggers at the
North Bridge was a popular instinct, that the great demo
cratic movement had begun, that a new power had arisen
in the world, destined, for weal or woe, to change in the
coming century the forms of government and of society
throughout the civilized nations of the West.

v.. FLAG CARRIED
BY THE BED
FORD MILI
TIA COMPANY
AT CONCORD
BRIDGE.
"Itwasoriginally de
signed in England in 1660-
70 for the three county
troops of Middlesex, and be
came one of the accepted stand
ards of the organized Militia
of the State, and as such it
was used by the Bedford Com
pany." WILLIAM S. APPLE TON,
Mass. Hist. Society.

46

THE STORY OF THE REVOLUTION

.V.^V.VJV^...- ;. ;, .

E»<*35Si

¦9%.

WRIGHT TA VERN, CONCORD, A T THE PRESENT TIME.
Built 17/fJ. Here Major Pitcairn stopped to refresh himself.

After the British retreated from the bridge, the Minute
Men, not quite realizing even yet what had happened, drew
back to the hills and waited. Colonel Smith wasted some
two hours in concentrating and resting his men, and about
noon started back for Lexington. At first he threw out
light detachments to keep his flanks cleat, but by the time
he reached Merriam's Corner they were forced by the
nature of the ground back to the main line. Then the
fighting began in earnest. From all the surrounding towns
the Minute Men were pouring in. There was a brush with
a flanking party just as Merriam's Corner was reached.
Then as the British passed along the road, in most parts
thickly wooded, from every copse and thicket and stone
wall the shots would ring out with deadly effect, for the
Americans were all trained to the use of the rifle. A de-

THE FIRST BLOW 47
tachment would be thrown out to clear the flank, the
enemy would scatter, and the detached soldiers entangled
in the brush would be picked off more easily even than in
the road itself. The Americans seemed "to drop from the
clouds," as one British officer wrote, and their fire came

4, . '/ sty,.- (%a/w*j£jtu~ 6> u^ ,'m ,», y1//^.'/^ im

c fj^\-, <//^f/J- *

'Ik

,'

fJr -^ ^~ -rJr~e«n <fs-t*>~™>™4.
¦ UAec ifa£* 9„JZn. t&°fl
*fa*rfj€wUaef ?~>ff ¦ •'**' '*'"'
fni- nun flit* /i a'* Prf^ , ^
"?r,i. l^r.,/,ou,f/ -irm-^f C~^^-^

»/¦.

~*va&*6>'<-

* fW, / Zt,„ ¦, ,r /;.. #2«*~ *7j.~*?fc
RECEIPT SIGNED BY THE MINUTE MEN OF IPSWICH, MASS., WHO
MARCHED ON THE ALARM, APRIL iq, 7775.
The original of this document is in the Emmet Collection in the Lenox Library.

43

THE STORY OF THE REVOLUTION

upon the enemy on both flanks, from the rear, and even in
front. These Minute Men, in fact, were now waging the

THE RETREA T FROM CONCORD.

kind of warfare they perfectly understood. Many of them
had served in the old French war ; they had fought the
Indians and had learned from their savage foe how to slip

THE FIRST BLOW 49
from tree to tree, to advance under cover, fire, and retreat,
each man acting for himself, undisturbed by the going or
coming of his fellows, and free from any danger of panic.
In a word, they were practising backwoods fighting with
deadly effect on regular troops who could neither under
stand nor meet it. So the time wore on. The shots from
the flanks came faster and faster, officers and men were
dropping beneath the deadly fire, the ranks were breaking,
and only the desperate efforts of the officers prevented a
panic like that in which Braddock's army had gone down.
On through the pleasant country in the bright spring sun
shine they went, disorder increasing, men falling, ammuni
tion giving out — a fine body of regular and disciplined
troops going pitifully and visibly to wreck. The Lexington
company, out again in force, avenged the losses of the
morning, and as the British thus beset struggled on, they
came again to the famous common where they had cele
brated their sunrise victory. No thought of victories now,
only of safety ; and here, at least, was relief. Here was
Lord Percy with his fresh brigade, and into the square
which he had formed Smith's hunted men rushed wildly
and flung themselves down on the ground, utterly ex
hausted, with their tongues out, says the British historian
Stedman, "like dogs after a chase." Here, moreover, the
Americans were at a disadvantage, for it was an open space,
and Lord Percy's cannon soon cleared the ground, while
his men set fire to the houses. The Americans drew off
and waited. They had only to be patient, for they knew
their time would come again.
Lord Percy, although he had now nearly eighteen hun
dred men, made no attempt to attack the Americans, who
were waiting quietly just out of range. After a brief
Vol. I.— 4

50

THE STORY OF THE REVOLUTION

period of rest he gave the word and the troops took up
their march for Boston. As soon as they started the
Americans closed in, and the fighting began again in front,
behind, and on both flanks. More Minute Men had come
up, more were constantly arriving. There would be heavy
firing and sharp fighting, then the cannon would be swung
round, then a lull would follow, then more firing and fight
ing, until the cannon lost their terror, while the firing grew
constantly heavier and the fighting sharper. There was no
time to go round by Cambridge, as they had come in the
morning. Lord Percy made straight for Charlestown, the
nearest point of safety, and the worst attack fell on him
just before he reached his haven and got his columns, now

•otcpw

GRAVE OF BRITISH SOLDIERS, NEAR 'THE BRIDGE AT CONCORD.
broken and running, under the guns of the men-of-war. At
last the day was done — Lexington and Concord had had
their battles and taken their place in history.
When the story of April 19, 1775, is told, we are apt

THE FIRST BLOW

5i

to think only of the firing at sun
rise on Lexington Green, and of
the slight skirmish at the old
North Bridge in Concord. We
are prone to forget that apart
from these two dramatic points
there was a good deal of severe
fighting during that memorable
day. A column of regular Eng
lish troops, at first 800, then 1,800
strong, had marched out to Con
cord and Lexington, and back to
Boston, and had met some hun
dreds of irregular soldiers, at best
militia. They retreated before
these Minute Men for miles, and
reached Boston in a state not far
removed from rout and panic.
The running fight had not been
child's play by any means. The
Americans lost 88 men killed
and wounded ; the British 247,
besides 26 missing or prisoners.
These were serious figures. Evi
dently the British officers, who in the morning of that
day thought the Americans had neither courage nor res
olution, would have to revise their opinions, unless they
were ready for further disasters. But more important
than the views of British officers, somewhat tired and an
noyed that evening in Boston, was the fact that the
American fighting had been done by the people themselves,
on the spur of the moment. It was every man for himself.

THE MINUTE MAN AT CON
CORD BRIDGE.
(Daniel C. French, Sculptor. )

52 THE STORY OF THE REVOLUTION
Heath and Warren had come out and rallied the Minute
Men into more compact bodies here and there, but it was
the Minute Men's fight. A common instinct moved those
Middlesex yeomen, and it appeared that they were ready on
their own account to take up arms and fight in their back
woods fashion hard and effectively. Here was a fact de
serving much pondering from kings and ministers, who, it
is to be feared, gave it but little heed, and certainly failed
either to understand it or to fathom its deep meaning for
them, their empire, and, in certain wider aspects, for man
kind.

CHAPTER III
THE SECOND CONGRESS
THE Massacnusetts farmers had precipitated the cri
sis. They had fought the British troops and now
held them besieged in Boston. Connecticut and
New Hampshire had sustained them with men sent to share
in the perils of the time and help to lay siege to the British
army. Then came the anxious question as to how the rest
of the country would look upon what had been done.
Hitherto the other colonies had sympathized with the
Eastern people strongly, and thus far had cordially sup
ported them ; but there was a powerful party, especially in
the Middle States, who disliked the actions and suspected
the intentions of the New Englanders, and who were
strongly averse to independence or to any breach with the
mother-country. How would these other colonies act
now ? Would they still stand by Massachusetts, or would
they recoil in alarm when blood had been shed and posi
tive action one way or the other was no longer to be
avoided ? With these questions upon them the Provincial
Congress of Massachusetts drew up an official account of
the events of April 19th and sent one copy to England,
where the news caused stocks to fall and startled Lord
North, who had intelligence and perceptions denied to his
master, while another was despatched by express through
S3

54 THE STORY OF THE REVOLUTION
all the other colonies to South Carolina. A momentous
deed had been done, and the anxiety of the doers thereof is
shown by the manner in which this official narrative was
hurried away to the southward. The Massachusetts dele
gates who set out for Philadelphia within a fortnight after
the Lexington and Concord fight may well have been
beset with doubts and fears as to the reception which
awaited them in Congress.
Samuel and John Adams again led the delegation, but
to their little company was now added a man destined to
become one of the best-known names of the Revolution,
although as an efficient and effective actor his part was
small. Rich, well-born, and generous in expense, John
Hancock, almost alone among the men of wealth, family,
and office who then formed the aristocracy of Boston, had
espoused openly the side of opposition to Great Britain.
Samuel Adams, shrewd judge and manager of men, cul
tivated his friendship, flattered his vanity, and employed
him to excellent purpose. Here he had him now in his
company as a Member of Congress, and we shall see pres
ently how he used him there. So the Massachusetts
delegates, thus reinforced, journeyed on together through
Connecticut. There they already knew that all was safe
and sympathetic. It was when they drew near the Hud
son that the real anxiety began. But it came only to be
dispelled, for as they approached New York they were met
by a company of grenadiers, by a regiment of militia, by
carriages, and by hundreds of men on foot. As they
passed along into the town the roads and streets were lined
with people who cheered them loudly, while the bells of
the churches rang out a joyful peal of welcome. They
were heroes, it appeared, not culprits. The people were

JOHN HANCOCK.
Engraved/rom the portrait painted by Copley in 1774. Now in possession of the Boston Museum of Fine Arts-

THE SECOND CONGRESS 57
with them here as in New England, and when they left
the city they were escorted again by the militia, and again
the crowds cheered them on their way. So it was all
through New Jersey to Philadelphia. Honors and rejoic
ings met them everywhere. The people of the sister colo
nies stood firmly by Massachusetts in striking the first
blow. The second Congress met on May ioth. The leaders
of the first were again there — Washington, Henry, Lee,
Jay, and the two Adamses. With them, too, were some
new men already distinguished or destined to win reputa
tion. Chief among these new members was Benjamin
Franklin, the most famous American then living, known
throughout Europe for his scientific discoveries ; known in
England besides as the fearless champion of the colonies ;
great in science and' in statecraft ; a statesman and diplo
matist ; a man of letters and a popular writer, whose wit
and wisdom were read in many tongues ; just returned
from London, and the wisest and most influential man in
the Congress. It is worth while to pause a moment to look
at Franklin, standing forth now as a leader of revolution,
for he was one of the great men of the century. He was
then in his seventieth year, but vigorous and keen as ever
in mind and body. He could have done more than any
other one man to prevent colonial revolt, for he was emi
nently conservative and peace-loving, as well as truly loyal
to the mother-country. The ministry, who would have
listened to him and been guided by him, would have held
America, and fastened it tighter than ever to the Empire.
Instead of this, official England set her Solicitor-General
to vilify and abuse him in the presence of the Privy Coun
cil and before the English people.. Franklin listened in

58 THE STORY OF THE REVOLUTION
silence to the invective then heaped upon him, and the
most powerful friend to peace, union, and conciliation was
lost to England. Now he had come back to guide his
countrymen among the dangers which beset them, and to
win allies for them from beyond seas. In the man of
science, letters, and philanthropy we are apt to lose sight
of the bold statesman and great diplomatist. We always
think of that familiar face with the fine forehead and the
expression of universal benevolence. But there was another
aspect. Look at the picture of Franklin where the fur cap
is pulled down over his head. The noble brow is hidden,
the pervading air of soft and gentle benevolence has faded,
and a face of strength and power, of vigorous will and of
an astuteness rarely equalled, looks out at us and fixes our
attention. This versatile genius, in whom the sternness of
the Puritan mingled with the scepticism and tolerance of
the eighteenth-century philosopher, was not one to be
lightly reviled and abused. It would have been well for
Wedderburn, who, at his death, in the words of his affec
tionate sovereign, " left no greater knave behind him," if
he had not added to the list of ministerial blunders that of
making an enemy of Franklin. All these incidents which
had befallen him in London were as well known as Frank
lin's fame in science and his distinction in the public ser
vice, and we can easily imagine how he was looked up to
in America, and how men turned to him when he appeared
in Congress. He was the great figure at this second gath
ering, but not the only one among the new members who
deserved remark. From Massachusetts came, as has been
said, John Hancock, and from New York George Clinton
and Robert Livingston, who were to play conspicuous parts
in the Revolution and in the early years of the new nation

THE SECOND CONGRESS 59
which sprang from it, while a little later Virginia sent
Thomas Jefferson to fill a vacant place.
Never indeed was the best ability of the country more
needed, for events had moved fast in the six months which
had elapsed since the first Congress adjourned. War had
broken out, and this second Congress found itself facing
realities of the sternest kind. Yet the members were
merely delegates, chosen only to represent the views and
wishes of the colonies in regard to their relations with
Great Britain. Beyond this they had no authority.
Many of them had been irregularly elected by popular
meetings. Their instructions varied, but none empowered
them to form a government. They had not a square foot
of territory which they could control ; they had no execu
tive powers ; no money ; no authority to make laws, and
no means to carry them out. And yet the great forces
were moving, and they had to face facts which demanded
a vigorous and efficient government.
Even as they met on May ioth a British fortress had
been seized by the colonists, for Lexington and Concord
had set in motion a force which, once started, could
neither be stayed nor limited. The first military and polit
ical object of England when actual war came obviously
would be to divide New England from the middle colonies
by controlling the line of the Hudson River to the lakes
lying on the borders of Vermont and New York. The
key of the position was the fortress at Ticonderoga which
commanded the lakes, and in this way the road from
Canada to New York Harbor. Very early in the troubles
the New England leaders saw this situation, and when the
conflict broke they moved quickly. Adams and Hancock
counselled with the Governor of Connecticut and sent

6o

THE STORY OF THE REVOLUTION

an express to Ethan Allen in the Green Mountains to
prepare to seize the fort. Then some fifty men went for
ward from Connecticut and Massachusetts and met Ethan
Allen at Bennington. An alarm was sent out, about a
hundred hardy men from the mountains joined the de
tachment from the South, Allen was chosen leader, and

THE RUINS OF TICONDEROGA, LOOKING NORTHWEST, SHOWING THE RE
MAINS OF THE BASTION AND BARRACKS.

on May 8th they started. The night of May 9th they
were near the fort, and waited for the day to come. When
the first faint flush of light appeared, Allen asked every
man who was willing to go with him to poise his gun.
Every gun was raised. Allen gave the word and they
marched to the entrance of the fort. The gate was shut,
but the wicket open. The sentry snapped his fuzee, and
Allen, followed by his men, dashed in through the wicket,

THE CAPTURE OF TICONDEROGA BY ETHAN ALLEN.
There was but little resistance, and the sentries, after one or two sluts, threw down tlieir arms.

THE SECOND CONGRESS 63
raised the Indian war-whoop and formed on the parade,
covering the barracks on each side. There was but little
resistance, and the sentries, after one or two shots, threw
down their arms, while Allen strode forward toward the
quarters of the commandant. As he reached the door,
Delaplace appeared, undressed, and Allen demanded the
surrender of the fort. " By what authority ? " asked Dela
place. " In the name of the great Jehovah and the Con
tinental Congress," answered Allen. No stranger military
summons was ever made, with its queer mingling of Puri
tan phrase and legal form. But it served its purpose
better than many an elaborate demand framed in the best
style of Louis the Great, for it was perfectly successful.
The fort which had cost England several campaigns, many
lives, and some millions of pounds, fell into the hands of
the Americans in ten minutes. The reason was plain.
The Americans were quick-witted, knew the enormous
value of the position, and acted at once. Thus by a sur
prise they succeeded ; but none the less real wisdom lay
behind Allen's prompt and vigorous action. As a military
exploit it was all simple enough : nerve and courage at the
right moment, and the deed was done. But the foresight
which planned and urged the deed to execution showed
military and political sense of a high order. Nor was that
all. Seth Warner seized Crown Point, and another party
took possession of the harbor of Skenesboro. The road
from Canada to New York was now in the hands of the.
Americans, a fact fruitful of consequences when a battle
which has been set down as one of the decisive battles of
the world was to be fought a few years later. Important,
too, were the two hundred cannon taken in Ticonderoga
and destined to play an essential part a few months later

64

THE STORY OF THE REVOLUTION

in driving the British from their first military foothold
in America. Altogether a brave deed, this of Allen and
his mountain men; very punctually and thoroughly per
formed, and productive of abundant results, as is usually
the case with efficient action, which, without criticism,

A NEAR VIEW OF THE RUINS OF THE OFFICERS'
QUARTERS AT TICONDEROGA.

Ground Plan Showing Barracks
and Officers' Quarters. The
covered way by which Allen
entered is also indicated.

carpings, or doubts, drives straight on at
the goal to be attained.
While Ethan Allen and his men were thus hurrying
events forward in their own rough-and-ready fashion that
pleasant May morning, the members of the second Con
gress were meeting in Philadelphia. They knew nothing
of what was happening far to the north, or of how the
men of the Green Mountains were forcing them on to
measures and responsibilities from which they still shrank,
and which they had not yet put into words. They would

THE SECOND CONGRESS 65
learn it all soon enough from messengers hurrying south
ward from Ticonderoga, but they already had ample food
for thought without this addition. The King and his
Ministers had rejected and flouted their appeals sent
to England six months before, and had decided on
fresh measures of coercion. Their friends in Parliament
had been beaten. The farmers of Massachusetts had
fought the King's troops, and now held those troops be
sieged in Boston with a. rough, undisciplined army. Rec
ognition, reasonable settlement, mutual concessions, had
drifted a good deal farther off than when they last met.
If the situation had been grave in 1774, it was infinitely
graver and more difficult now. How were they to deal
with it, devoid as they were of proper powers for action
and still anxious to remain part of the British Empire ?
A very intricate question this, but they faced it man
fully. '
They began, as before, by electing Peyton Randolph
President, and when shortly afterward he was called home,
they went from Virginia to Massachusetts for his succes
sor. The use of John Hancock now became apparent,
and we can see why Samuel Adams had brought him
from Boston. He had the wealth, the position, the man
ners which made him attractive to the delegates from the
other colonies. He was free from the suspicion of being
too radical and dangerous, which clung to both Samuel
and John Adams, despite the fact of his association with
them. He was dignified, courtly, well known. It was
very important to Massachusetts, which had ventured so
far in open rebellion, that Congress should stand by her.
To have the President of the Congress, if Virginia, the
other strongly resisting colony, did not furnish that
Vol. I.— 5

66 THE STORY OF THE REVOLUTION
officer, was an important step. In itself it carried sup
port and approbation, for John Hancock was a proscribed
man, and Benjamin Harrison, as he escorted him to the
chair, said they would show Great Britain how much they
cared for her proscriptions. Samuel Adams could not
have been elected President, John Hancock could be ;
and accordingly, when Randolph withdrew, he was chosen.
He was an excellent presiding officer and accustomed to
be governed and guided by Adams. His election meant
that the party of firm resistance to England, whose bul
warks wrere Virginia and Massachusetts, controlled the
Congress, something much more essential to them now
than six months before. Be it noted also that to fill Ran
dolph's place as delegate there shortly arrived a tall,
rather awkward-looking young man, with reddish hair and
a pleasant face and look. His name was Thomas Jeffer
son, and although he proved a silent member, he so won
upon his associates that he was placed on important com
mittees, and a little later showed that if he would not
speak in public, he could write words which the world
would read and future generations repeat. Among the
delegates who came late we must also remark one named
Lyman Hall, from the parish of St. John's in Georgia,
where there was a New England settlement. His arrival
completed the tale of the American Colonies. The thir
teen in one way or another all had representation in the
new Congress. The union of the colonies, which was so
dangerous to British supremacy, was evidently growing
more complete and perfect.
The work of organization done, the Congress faced
the situation, and solved the question of lack of authority
by boldly assuming all necessary executive powers as

THE SECOND CONGRESS 67
events required. In committee of the whole they re
viewed the proceedings in Massachusetts, and then ensued
a series of contradictions very characteristic of the law-
abiding English people, and reminding one strongly of a
time when the Long Parliament made war on the king in
the king's name. These colonial Englishmen resolved
that Great Britain had begun hostilities and at the same
time protested their loyalty. They declared they were for
peace, advised New York to allow the British troops to
be landed from the Asia, and then voted to put the col
onies in a position of defence. Under the lead of John
Dickinson, they agreed to again petition the king, and
authorized addresses to the people of England, to the
people of Ireland, and to their fellow-colonists of Canada
and of Jamaica. When the news of Ticonderoga came,
they decided not to invade Canada, and hesitated even
about the wisdom of holding the forts they had taken.
Then, pushed on by events, they proceeded to exercise
the highest sovereign powers by authorizing a small loan
and organizing an army. On June 15th, John Adams
moved that they adopt the army then at Boston, and, rep
resenting New England, declared that the head of that
army should be their distinguished colleague from Vir
ginia, who thereupon left the room. The proposition
prevailed, and two days later, on the motion of Mr. John
son of Maryland, carrying out the suggestion of John
Adams, they formally chose George Washington to com
mand what was henceforth to be known as the Conti
nental Army, then engaged in besieging the British in
Boston. It was a noble choice, one worth remembering,
for they took the absolutely greatest and fittest man in
America, a feat which is seldom performed, it being too

68 THE STORY OF THE REVOLUTION
often left to events to throw out the unfit selections made
by men and put in their stead those to whom the places
really belong.
Washington himself, silently watching all that hap
pened with the keen insight which never was at fault,
always free from illusions, and recognizing facts with a
veracity of mind which was never clouded, knew well that
the time for addresses and petitions had passed. Averse
as he had been to independence as an original proposition,
he was not deceived by any fond fancies in regard to the
present situation, which had developed so rapidly in a few
months. War had begun, and that meant, as he well
knew, however men might hesitate about it, a settlement
by war. He had already made up his mind fully as to his
own course, and when the great responsibility came to him
he accepted it at once, without shrinking, solemnly and
modestly, stipulating only that he should receive no pay
above his expenses, and saying that he did not feel equal
to the command. Artemus Ward, then in command at
Boston, Philip Schuyler, Israel Putnam, and Charles Lee,
the last an English adventurer, glib of tongue and quite
worthless, were chosen major-generals. Horatio Gates,
another Englishman, thanks to the same natural colonial
spirit which chose Lee, was appointed adjutant-general.
Pomeroy, Heath, and Thomas of Massachusetts, Wooster
and Spencer of Connecticut, Sullivan of New Hampshire,
Montgomery of New York, and the Quaker, Nathaniel
Greene of Rhode Island, who proved the most brilliant of
them all, were appointed brigadiers.
Thus, while they petitioned the King, shrank from in
dependence, and sought conciliation and peace by ad
dresses and memorials, the second American Congress at

THE SECOND CONGRESS 69
the same time took into their service an army already in
the field, and sent the greatest soldier of the time to com
mand it and to fight the troops of the Sovereign whom
they still acknowledged. Very contradictory and yet very
human and natural all this, for great causes are not carried
out, nor do great forces move upon the straight lines
marked out by the critic or the student, but along the
devious and winding paths which human nature always
traces for itself when it is brought face to face with diffi
culties and trials which it would fain avoid and must meet.

CHAPTER IV
THE REPLY TO LORD SANDWICH
WHILE Congress was thus debating and resolv
ing, the people were acting. After the Con
cord fight some sixteen thousand armed men
gathered about Boston and laid siege to the town. They
were under different and independent commands, undis
ciplined, ill-armed, with no heavy guns fit for siege opera
tions. But through their zeal in a common cause, for the
time, at least, they made up in activity what they lacked
in organization and equipment. They managed to cut off
Boston from the surrounding country, so that actual dis
tress began to prevail among the inhabitants, and thou
sands who sympathized with the patriots abandoned the
town and made their way to the neighboring villages.
With no regular works anywhere, the Americans still con
trived to have men at all important points, and in some
fashion to prevent communication with the country. In
addition they swept the harbor-islands clean of cattle and
sheep, and this work led to frequent skirmishes, in one of
which the Americans destroyed two British vessels and
drove off the royal troops. An effort to provision Boston
with sheep brought from the southward was frustrated by
the people of New Bedford, who fitted out two vessels,
captured those of the enemy with the live-stock on board,
70

THE REPLY TO LORD SANDWICH 71
and beat off a British sloop-of-war. It is not easy to un
derstand how the Americans, ill-equipped as they were,
were able to thus maintain the lines around Boston and
hold besieged regular troops amounting at that time to
over five thousand men, and very soon afterward to more
than ten thousand. The fact can only be explained by
the utter incompetency of the British commander, Gen
eral Gage. With the troops under him he ought at any
time to have been able to break the extended American
line and drive them from point to point. Indeed, he
should never have permitted them to close in on him.
Instead of taking vigorous action, however, he occupied
himself with making treaties with the selectmen of the
town for the withdrawal of the inhabitants and with issu
ing fierce proclamations, while he allowed the enemy to
hold him a virtual prisoner. It is not to be wondered at
that when Burgoyne, Clinton, and Howe arrived with re
inforcements they should have been amazed that the King's
troops had not long since beaten and driven off the " peas
ants," as they called them, who surrounded the town. Yet
the new generals seem only to have added to the sum total
of British incompetency. With largely increased forces
they still did not attack the Americans or drive them away.
On the contrary, the attack came from the "peasants,"
and not from the army of veterans imprisoned in Boston.
The Americans were spurred on to action by reports
that the British were about to seize certain strategic points
and fortify them, and that expeditions were preparing for
this purpose. In order to be beforehand with them the
council of war prepared a plan for a series of works and
redoubts on the northern side of the city, reaching from
what is now SomerviUe to the hills of Charlestown, which

72

THE STORY OF THE REVOLUTION

[It will be noticed that this map, from British surveys, perpetuates the mistake
which caused the name of Bunker Hill, rather than Breed's Hill, to be given to the
battle. In reality, Breed's Hill, where the redoubt was, is the one nearer Boston.]

bordered on the river and harbor. General Ward and
others of the commanding officers naturally opposed this
plan so far as it related to the extreme point of the hills in

THE REPLY TO LORD SANDWICH 73
Charlestown, for the very excellent reason that they had
but little powder and no cannon, and that without these
essential aids it seemed rash in the extreme to take a posi
tion near the British lines which threatened Boston itself,
and where they could be cut off by an enterprising ene
my seizing the narrow neck which connected the penin
sula with the main land. While they were debating this
question news came from a trustworthy source that on
June 1 8th the British intended to seize Dorchester Heights,
to the south of the town, and it was clear that if they
should be successful in this movement it would not only
absolutely protect Boston, but would make the American
positions difficult if not untenable. Considerations of pru
dence were therefore laid aside, and the committee of
safety decided that it was necessary to at once occupy
Charlestown Neck and Bunker Hill. General Ward and
the others were quite right in thinking this a desperate un
dertaking for which they were totally unprepared, and yet
the committee of safety, favored as they were by fortune,
proved to be on the broadest grounds correct. It was es
sential to hold the British where they were in the town.
If they once got possession of the commanding points out
side, it would be impossible to drive them out of Boston,
and one of the principal American cities would remain in
the enemy's hands. If, on the other hand, the Americans
seized a position close to the British lines and became the
aggressors, then whether they failed or succeeded in hold
ing their ground permanently, they would, by fighting,
prevent the enemy from making an advance movement,
and from so strengthening and extending his lines that he
could neither be closely beseiged nor forced from the
town.

74 THE STORY OF THE REVOLUTION
Thus it came about, either by sound military instinct
or by equally sound reasoning, that the order was issued
to occupy and fortify Bunker Hill in Charlestown, and
late in the afternoon of June 16th the troops selected for
this duty were ordered to parade. Three Massachusetts
regiments, two hundred Connecticut men as a fatigue
party, and an artillery company with two field-pieces
formed the detachment. Drawn up on Cambridge Com
mon they stood quietly in the summer twilight and listened
to the fervent prayer of Samuel Langdon, the President
of Harvard College, as he blessed them and bade them
God-speed. Then the word was given, and with Colonel
Prescott in command and at the front, and their intrench
ing tools in carts bringing up the rear, they started as the
darkness fell and marched to Charlestown. When they
reached the Neck they halted, and a small party was de
tached to guard and watch the town while the main body
went on to Bunker Hill. Here they halted again, and a
long discussion ensued as to where they should intrench.
The orders said plainly Bunker Hill, but the nature of the
ground said with equal plainness Breed's Hill, which was
farther to the front, nearer to the river, and more threaten
ing to. the city. The dispute went on until the engineer
begged for a speedy decision, and they then determined
to throw up the intrenchmcnts on Breed's Hill and fortify
Bunker Hill afterward.
Then the work began. Gridley marked out the lines
for the intrenchment and did it well. He was an accom
plished engineer and had seen service at Louisburg and in
the old French war. The redoubt he laid out in haste
that night excited the admiration of the enemy the next
day. The lines drawn, a thousand men set to work with

THE BUNKER HILL INTRENCHING PARTY.

Drawn up on Cambridge Common they stood quietly in the summer twilight and listened to the fervent prayer of Samuel Langdon, the President of Harvard
College, as he blessed them and bade them God-speed.

THE REPLY TO LORD SANDWICH 77
spades to raise the earthworks. These American soldiers,
called hastily from their farms, lacked organization and
military discipline, but they were intelligent, independent
men, accustomed to turn their hand to anything. They
could shoot and they could also dig. They were able to
handle the spade as dexterously and effectively as the rifle.
It was well for them that they could do so, for the June
night was short, and quick work was vital. Close by them
along the river-front lay five men-of-war and several float
ing batteries, all within gunshot. On the other side of the
stream the British sentinels paced up and down the shore.
Prescott, when the work began, sent a small detachment
under Maxwell to patrol Charlestown and guard the ferry.
Twice during the night he went down himself to the edge
of the water and listened intently to catch the drowsy cry
of "All's well " from the watch on the British ships. The
work, therefore, had to be not only quick but quiet, and
it is a marvel that no British sentry, and still more, no
sailor on the men-of-war, detected the movement on the
hill or heard the click of the spades and the hum and stir
of a thousand men toiling as they never toiled before.
But the Americans labored on in silence under the sum
mer starlight, faster and faster, until the gray dawn began
to show faintly in the east. When the light came, the
sailors on the nearest sloop suddenly saw that intrench-
ments six feet high had sprung up in the night and were
frowning at them from the nearest hill. The sight of the
works was a complete surprise, and the captain of the
Lively, without waiting for orders, opened fire. The
sound of the guns roused Boston. British officers and
townspeople alike rushed out to see what had happened.
To the former that which met their eyes was not an en-

78 THE STORY OF THE REVOLUTION
couraging sight, for with those Charlestown hills fortified
and in the hands of the enemy, Boston would be untenable
and they would be forced to abandon the town. Gage at
once called a council of officers. and they determined that
the works on Breed's Hill must be taken immediately and
at all hazards, and the Americans driven off. Unwilling,
on account of Ward's army at Cambridge, to land on the
Neck, which had been left practically unguarded, and thus
assail the redoubt from behind, the one thing of all others
to do, amfthoroughly despising their opponents, of whom
they knew nothing, they decided to make a direct attack
in front, and orders went forth at once to draw out the
troops and transport them by boats to Charlestown.
Meantime the battery on Copp's Hill and the water-
batteries had been firing on the American works. The
fire, however, was ineffective, and the Americans continued
their task of finishing and perfecting their intrenchments
and of building the interior platforms. Made in such
haste, they were rude defences at best, but all that could be
done was done. At first when a private was killed by a
cannon-ball there was some alarm among the men unac
customed to artillery fire, and Colonel Prescott therefore
mounted the parapet and walked slowly up and down
to show them that there was no serious danger. The sight
of that tall, soldierly figure standing calmly out in full view
of the enemy gave confidence at once, and there were no
more murmurs of alarm, although when the tide was at
flood some of the war-ships were able to enfilade the re
doubt and pour in a better-directed fire. So the day wore
on with its accompaniment of roaring cannon, the Ameri
cans waiting patiently under the hot sun, tired and thirsty,
but ready and eager to fight.

THE REPLY TO LORD SANDWICH

79

PRESCOTT ON THE PARAPET AT BUNKER HILL.
The sight of that tall, soldierly figure standing calmly out in full view of the enemy gave confidence at once.
At noon the British troops marched through the streets
of Boston, and began to embark under cover of an in
creased and strongly sustained fire from the ships and float
ing batteries. By one o'clock they had landed in good
order at Moulton's Point, and formed in three lines. Not

80 THE STORY OF THE REVOLUTION
liking the looks of the redoubt now that he was near to it,
General Howe sent for reinforcements, and while he waited
for them his men dined. Prescott, too, early in the morn
ing had sent for reinforcements, and the news that the
British had landed, caused a great stir in the camp at Cam
bridge, but owing to the lack of organization only a few
fresh troops ever reached the hill. Some leaders arrived,
like Warren and Pomeroy and General Putnam, who did
admirable service throughout the day. John Stark came
over with his New Hampshire company, declining to
quicken his step across the Neck, which was swept by the
British fire, and brought his men on the field in good con
dition. But with some few exceptions of this sort, Pres
cott was obliged to rely entirely on the small detachment he
had himself led there the night before. Seeing a move
ment on the part of the British which made him believe
that they were going to try to turn his position on the left,
with the true military instinct and quick decision which he
displayed throughout the day Prescott detached Colonel
Knowlton with the Connecticut troops and the artillery to
oppose the enemy's right wing. Knowlton took a posi
tion near the base of the hill, behind a stone fence with a
rail on top. In front he hastily built another fence and
filled the space between the two with freshly cut grass from
the meadow. It was not such a work as a Vauban would
have built, or foreign military experts would have praised,
but the Americans of that day, instead of criticising it be
cause it was not on the approved foreign model, made the
best of it and proceeded to use it to good purpose. While
Knowlton was thus engaged he was joined by Stark and
the New Hampshire men, and with their aid was enabled
to extend and strengthen his line.

THE REPLY TO LORD SANDWICH 81
At last the forces were in position. The long hours of
quiet waiting in the burning sun were drawing to an end.
The British forces were at length in line, and soon after
three o'clock Howe briefly told his men that they were the
finest troops in the world, and that the hill must be taken.
Then he gave the word, and under cover of a very heavy
fire from the ships, the batteries, and the artillery, they
began to advance, marching in admirable order with all
the glitter and show of highly disciplined troops. They
were full of cheerful, arrogant confidence. They despised
the Provincials and looked with scorn on the rude works.
They had been taught to believe also that the Americans
were cowards. Had not Lord Sandwich and other emi
nent persons, whom they were bound to credit, told them
so ? They expected a short, sharp rush, a straggling fire,
a panic-stricken retreat of the enemy, and an easy victory
to celebrate that evening in Boston.
Howe led the attack on the flank in person, aiming at
the rail fence and the collection of "rustics," as he would
have called them, who were gathered there. General Pigot
led the assault in front upon the redoubt itself. On they
marched, very fine to look upon in their brilliant uniforms
and with their shining arms. Onward still they went, the
artillery booming loudly over their heads. They began to
draw near the works and yet the enemy gave no sign. The
sun was very hot, and they had heavy knapsacks just as if
they were going on a march instead of into action, which
was natural from their point of view, for they expected no
battle. The grass, too, was very long, and the fences were
many. It was harder getting at the Americans, the heat
was greater, the way longer, than they had imagined, but
these things after all were trifles, and they would soon be
Vol. I.— 6

82 THE STORY OF THE REVOLUTION
on the rebels now. Still all was silent in the redoubts.
They came within gunshot. There were a few straggling
shots from the fort, quickly suppressed, and it looked as if
the officers were going round the parapet knocking up the
guns. What could it all mean ? Were the Provincials
going to retreat without firing at all ? It would seem that
they were more cowardly than even the liberal estimate
made by Lord Sandwich allowed. Perhaps most of them
had slipped away already. In any event, it would soon be
over. On then fast, for it was well within gunshot now.
Forward again quickly, and the separating distance is only
ten or twelve rods. Suddenly they heard from the fort the
sharp order to fire. A sheet of flame sweeps down from
the redoubt. It is a deadly, murderous fire. The execu
tion is terrible. Officers fall in all directions. The British
troops, and there are in truth no finer or braver in the
world, return the fire sharply, but not well. The lines
waver and gaps open everywhere in the ranks. Meantime
the fire from the fort continues, steady, rapid, effective,
evidently aimed by marksmen whose nerves are in good
order. How were they faring meanwhile at the rail fence,
where General Howe was leading his men in person ? Not
quite so silent here. The two little American field-pieces
opened effectively as the British advanced. There were
some straggling shots from the fence, quickly suppressed
as on the hill, but they drew the fire of the troops who
came on, firing regularly as if on parade. It would not
take long to dispose of this flimsy barrier. On, then, and
forward. They came within gunshot, they came within ten
rods, and now the rail fence flamed as the American fire
ran down the line. This, too, was a deadly fire. The offi-

THE REPLY TO LORD SANDWICH 83
cers were picked off. The troops began to break, so sav
age was the slaughter. On hill and meadow, before redoubt
and rail fence, the British columns gave way. They could
not stand the execution that was being done upon them.
Pigot ordered a retreat, and Howe's men broke and scat
tered. As the British troops recoiled and fell back, cut up
by the American fire, the Americans sprang forward with
cheers eager to pursue, restrained only by their officers, and
shouting, " Are the Yankees cowards ? " Lord Sandwich
was answered. Whatever the final result, the men who
had met and repulsed that onslaught were not cowards.
General Howe soon rallied his surprised and broken
troops and formed them again in well-drawn lines. The
British then set fire to the village of Charlestown, a per
fectly wanton and utterly useless performance, as the wind
carried the smoke away from the redoubt, and did not take
possession of the Neck, which would have thrown the
whole American force on the hills helplessly into their
hands. The ships then renewed their bombardment with
increased fury ; the artillery was advanced on the right,
where it could do much more execution upon the defenders
of the rail fence, and with the little town in flames on their
left, the British" moved forward to a second assault. They
advanced firing, their march encumbered now not only by
long grass and fences, but by the bodies of their comrades
fallen in the first attack. Their fire did little execution,
for they aimed too high. Still they moved on with their well-
ordered lines. Again the redoubt was silent. They came
within gunshot, within ten rods, still silence. Now they
were within six rods and now came again that sheet of
flame and the deadly fire. This time they were not taken
by surprise. They knew now that there were men behind

84 THE STORY OF THE REVOLUTION
those rude earthworks who could and would shoot straight,
and who had not run away at their approach. They stag
gered under the shock of this first volley, but rallied gal
lantly and came on. Could the Americans maintain their
ground after one volley ? It appeared that they could.
Colonel Prescott said there was a "continuous stream of
fire from the redoubt." So continuous, so rapid, and so
steady was it, that the British never got across the short
distance which remained. They struggled bravely forward,
many falling within a few yards of the redoubt and on the
very slopes of the embankment. Then they gave way, this
time in confusion, and fled. Some ran even to the boats.
It was the same at the rail fence. Despite the artillery
playing on their left, the Americans stood firm and poured
in their fatal volleys when the enemy came within the pre
scribed line. Howe's officers and aides fell all about him,
so that at times he was left almost alone, a gallant figure in
the thick of the slaughter, in the midst of dead and dying,
his silk stockings splashed with blood and still calling to
his soldiers to come on. The men who shot down his staff
spared him. Perhaps the memory of the equally gallant
brother whom they had followed in the Old French War,
and a monument to that brother placed in Westminster
Abbey by the province of Massachusetts, turned aside the
guns which could have picked him off as they did his com
panions in arms. But at that moment no personal cour
age in the commander could hold the troops. They broke
as the main column had broken on Breed's Hill before the
sustained and fatal fire of the Americans, and swept back
ward almost in a panic to the shore and the boats.
This second repulse was far more serious both in losses
and in moral effect than the first. So long a time elapsed

THE BATTLE OF BUNKER HILL,
The scene represents the second attack and is taken from the right wing of the Fifty-second Regiment, with a company of grenadiers in t lie foreground. The left wing of the
•volley; the right wing is just marching past to take its position for firing. The ship-of- war firing from the
The black smoke to the right is from the burning Iiouses of Charlestown.

regiment, under command of the major, has halted, and is firing
middle distance is the Lively; in the remoter distance is the smoke from the battery on Copp's Hill.

THE REPLY TO LORD SANDWICH 87
before the British moved again that some of the American
officers thought that the enemy would not try the works
a third time. The interval
of delay, however, served
only to disclose the inherent
weakness of the American
position. The men had be
haved with steady courage,
and fought most admirably,
but they were entirely un
supported, and without sup
port the position was unten
able against repeated attacks
from a superior force, and a
mere trap if the British gen
eral had had the intelligence GENERAL WILLIAM HOWE
tO SGIZC LflC JLNI CCJ£. X DC From an engraving after the portrait by Dodd, May
American army at Cam
bridge had no real military organization, the general was
without a staff, and, though a brave man, was unable to sup
ply the deficiencies by his own energy and genius. Prescott
had sent early in the day for reinforcements, but such confu
sion prevailed at Cambridge that none were dispatched to
his assistance in an intelligent and effective manner. A
number of companies, indeed, started from Cambridge for
Charlestown. Some turned back, unwilling to face the
fire of the ships which swept the Neck. Stark came
through, as has been said, early in the day, and did
splendid service with his men at the rail fence ; but the
others for the most part never came into action at all.
Orders were disobeyed, contradictory commands issued,
and men straggled away from their regiments, some to

88 THE STORY OF THE REVOLUTION
retreat, some to join in desultory and independent fight
ing from outlying positions. Therefore, despite the great
efforts of some of the officers, and especially of General
Putnam, such men as really succeeded in reaching Charles
town remained in confusion on Bunker Hill in the rear
of the redoubt. Even worse than the failure to support
Prescott with troops, which was due to lack of discipline
and leadership, was the failure to send him ammunition.
He found himself forced to face a third attack, with
no fresh soldiers, but only his own men who had been dig
ging all night and fighting all day, and with scarcely any
powder. Most of his men had only a single round, none
more than three, and they broke up the cartridges of the
cannon to get a last pitiful supply. With the shadow of
certain defeat upon him, Prescott saw the British prepare
for a third assault. Howe, not without difficulty, had
rallied his men and reformed his ranks, while a reinforce
ment of four hundred marines had landed and joined him.
He also had learned a lesson, and had found out that he
had a dangerous enemy before him. This time the
British soldiers laid aside their knapsacks, and advanced
in light order. This time, too, only a feint was made at
the rail fence, and the whole attack, as well as the artil
lery fire, was concentrated on the redoubt. Prescott knew
that without powder, and with scarcely any bayonets, he
could not shatter the columns before they reached the
breastworks, nor repel an enemy capable of a bayonet
charge once they had reached the parapet. Nevertheless,
he determined to stand his ground, and make to the last
the best fight he could. The British moved forward, this
time in silence. " Make every shot tell," said Prescott to
his men, and when the British were within twenty yards

THE REPLY TO LORD SANDWICH 89
the Americans, standing their ground firmly under the
artillery fire, poured in a withering volley. The British
line staggered, but came on. As they mounted the para
pet another light volley did even more execution, but it
was the last. The American powder was exhausted, and
the Minute Men could only meet the bayonets with

JOSEPH WARREN, KILLED AT BUNKER HILL.
From a portrait painted by Copley in 1774.
clubbed muskets. It was a useless and hopeless waste of
life to contend with such odds under such conditions, and
Prescott gave the word to retreat. His men fell back from
the redoubt, he himself going last, and parrying bayonet
thrusts with his sword. Now it was that the Americans
suffered most severely, and that Warren, one of the best
beloved of the popular leaders, was killed. Nevertheless,
the men drew off steadily and without panic. The brave

90 THE STORY OF THE REVOLUTION
troops at the rail fence who had fought so well all day,
checked the British advance and covered the retreat of the
main body under Prescott ; Andrew McClary, the gallant
major of the New Hampshire company, being killed as
he brought off his men. All that was left of the little
American band retreated in good order across the Neck.
They were not pursued. General Clinton, who had joined
before the last attack, urged Howe to follow up his vic
tory, but Howe and his men had had enough. They took
possession of Bunker Hill with fresh reinforcements, and
contented themselves with holding what they had gained,
while the Americans established themselves upon the hills
on the other side of Charlestown Neck. They had been
driven from their advanced position, but one great result
had been gained. The losses had been so severe that the
British plan to take Dorchester Heights had to be given
up. If the colonists could have held Breed's Hill, the
British would have been compelled to abandon Boston at
once ; but the fact that they failed to hold it did not give
the British a position which enabled them to command
the American lines, or to prevent a close siege which
would ultimately force evacuation.
Such was the battle of Bunker Hill. The victory was
with the British, for they took the contested ground and
held it. But the defeat of Bunker Hill was worth many
victories to the Americans. It proved to them that Brit
ish troops were not invincible, as they had been so confi
dently assured. It proved their own fighting capacity,
and gave strength and heart to the people of every colony.
Concord and Lexington had made civil war inevitable.
Bunker Hill showed that the Revolution, rightly led, was
certain to succeed. The story of Bunker Hill battle has

THE REPLY TO LORD SANDWICH 91
been told in prose and verse many times, and there is
"nothing to be added to the facts, but there was a meaning
to it which was entirely overlooked at the moment, and
which has never been sufficiently emphasized since. The
fact that the British carried the hill is nothing, for they
lost thirteen colonies in consequence. But it is in the sta
tistics of the battle that the real lesson lay, a lesson which
showed how disastrous a day it really had been for the
British army, and which if taken to heart by the Ministry,
a thing quite impossible under the circumstances, might
have led even then to peace and concession. The price
paid for that hill on June 17, 1775, was enormous, without
regard to more remote results. Never had the British
troops behaved with more stubborn bravery ; never had
they been more ruthlessly sacrificed, and never up to that
time had British soldiers faced such a fire. They brought
into action something over three thousand men, and not
more than thirty-five hundred. The official British returns
give the killed and wounded as 1,054. The Americans in
Boston insisted that the British loss reached 1,500, but let
us take only the official return of 1,054. That means that
the British loss was a trifle over thirty per cent. The sig
nificance of these figures can only be understood by a few
comparisons. The statistics of losses in Marlborough's
battles are rough and inexact, but so far as we know the
allies lost at Blenheim, where only 16,000 of the 55,000
were British troops, about twenty-five per cent. ; at Ramil-
lies about seven per cent. ; at Malplaquet less than twenty-
five per cent. ; at Fontenoy, where the Duke of Cumber
land, the " Martial Boy, sans peur et sans avis" hurled
the British force at the centre of the French line in a
charge as magnificent and desperate as it was wild and

92

THE STORY OF THE REVOLUTION
foolish, there were 28,000 English
soldiers in the army, and the loss
in killed and wounded was some
what over fourteen per cent. Thus
we see the correctness of the state
ment that no English soldiers had
at that time ever faced such a fire
as they met at Bunker Hill. In
later times the British loss at Wa
terloo was nearly thirty-four per
cent, and the loss of the allied
armies about fifteen per cent. ; while
at Gettysburg the Union army lost
about twenty -five per cent, and
these were two of the bloodiest of
modern battles. Waterloo lasted all
day, Gettysburg three days, Bunker
Hill, an hour and a half. At Grave-
lotte, the most severe battle of our
own time, and with modern weap
ons, the German loss was less than
fourteen per cent. Take another
significant feature at Bunker Hill.
One hundred and fifty-seven British
officers were killed or wounded.
Wellington had four hundred and
fifty-six killed or wounded at Wa
terloo. If the Bunker Hill propor
tion had been maintained he should have lost nine hundred
and forty-two. The American loss was less than the British,
because the men fought from behind intrenchments, and
it was sustained chiefly in the last hand-to-hand struggle.

A GLIMPSE OF BUNKER
HILL MONUMENT FROM
COPPS HILL CEMETERY.
On this hill -was the battery which
destroyed the town of Charlestown dur
ing the battle of Bunker Hill.

THE REPLY TO LORD SANDWICH 93
Nevertheless, it was very severe. At different times the
Americans appear to have had in Charlestown between
two and three thousand men, but Washington, who was
most accurate and had careful returns, stated that they
never had more than fifteen hundred men engaged, which
agrees with the best estimates that can be now made of
the number of men who fought at the redoubt and behind
the rail fence. The American loss was, from the best re
ports available, four hundred and eleven killed and wound
ed, at least twenty per cent, of the whole force actually
engaged. These statistics of the British loss, when analyzed,
show the gallantry of the English soldiers, which no other
race at that time could have equalled, and a folly on the
part of their commanders in attempting to rush an earth
work held by such opponents, which it is hard to realize.
Yet it is in the reasons for that very folly, which proved
such a piece of good fortune to Prescott and his men, that
we can find an explanation for the American Revolution,
and for the disasters to the British arms which accom
panied it.
Englishmen generally took the view that the people
of the American Colonies were in all ways inferior to
themselves, and particularly in fighting capacity. Lord
Sandwich was not exceptional in his ignorance when he
declared that the Yankees were cowards. Weight was
given to what he said merely because he happened to be
a peer, but his views were shared by most public men in
England, and by most of the representatives of the Eng
lish Crown in America, both military and civil. The
opinion of statesmen like Chatham, Camden, or Burke,
was disregarded, while that of Lord Sandwich and other

94 THE STORY OF THE REVOLUTION
persons equally unintelligent was accepted. It was this
stupidity and lack of knowledge which gave birth to the
policy that resulted in colonial resistance to the Stamp
Act, and later to the assembling of the first Revolution
ary Congress. It seems very strange that intelligent men
should have had such ideas in regard to the people of the
American Colonies, when the slightest reflection would
have disclosed to them the truth. The men of New
England, against whom their wrath was first directed,
were of almost absolutely pure English stock. They were
descendants of the Puritans, and of the men who followed
Cromwell and formed the famous army which he led to
a series of unbroken victories. Whatever the faults of
the Puritans may have been, no one ever doubted their
ability in public affairs, their qualities as citizens, or, above
all, their fighting capacity. In the one hundred and
twenty-five years which had elapsed since that period,
what had happened to make their descendants in the New
World degenerate ? The people of New England had
made a hard fight to establish their homes in the wilder
ness, to gather subsistence, and, later, wealth from an
ungrateful soil and from the stormy seas of the North
Atlantic. They had been engaged in almost constant
warfare with the Indians and French and had formed a
large part of the armies with which Pitt had wrested
Canada from France. Surely there was nothing in all
this to weaken their fibre or to destroy their fighting
qualities. Frontiersmen and pioneers whose arms were
the axe and the rifle, sturdy farmers and hardy fishermen
from the older settlements, of almost pure English blood,
with a small infusion of Huguenots and a slight mingling,
chiefly in New Hampshire, of Scotch-Irish from London-

THE REPLY TO LORD SANDWICH 95
derry, were not, on the face of things, likely to be timid
or weak. Yet these were the very men Lord Sandwich
and the Ministry, and England generally, set down as
cowards, who would run like sheep before the British
troops. While the resistance to the English policy of
interference was confined to the arena of debate and of
parliamentary opposition, the rulers of England found
the representatives of these American people to be good
lawyers, keen politicians and statesmen, able to frame
state papers of the highest merit. Untaught, however, by
the controversy of words, they resorted to force ; and
when the British generals, on the morning of June 17th,
beheld the rude earthworks on Breed's Hill, their only
feeling was one of scorn for the men who had raised them,
and of irritation at the audacity which prompted the act.
With such beliefs they undertook to march up to the re
doubt as they would have paraded to check the advance
of a city mob. When they came within range they were
met by a fire which, in accuracy and in rapidity, surpassed
anything they had ever encountered. As they fell back
broken from the slopes of the hill their one feeling was
that of surprise. Yet all that had happened was the most
natural thing in the world. To men who had fought in
the French and Indian wars, who had been bred on the
farm and fishing smack, who were accustomed to arms
from their youth, who, with a single bullet, could pick off
a squirrel from the top of the highest tree, it was an easy
matter, even though they were undisciplined, to face the
British soldiers and cut them down with a fire so accurate
that even stubborn British courage could not withstand
it. Contempt for all persons not living in England,
and profound ignorance of all people but their own, were

96 THE STORY OF THE REVOLUTION
the reasons for the merciless slaughter which came upon
the British soldiers at the battle of Bunker Hill. The
lesson of that day was wasted upon England, because in
sular contempt for every other people on earth, even if
they are kith and kin, is hard to overcome. It was, how
ever, a good beginning, and the lesson was ultimately
learned, for the same ignorance and contempt which led
to the reckless charges against the Charlestown earth
works dictated the policy and sustained the war which
cost England the surrender of two armies and the loss of
thirteen great colonies. Perfect satisfaction with one's
self, coupled with a profound ignorance and openly ex
pressed contempt in regard to other people, no doubt tend
to comfort in life, but they sometimes prove to be luxur
ies which it is expensive to indulge in too freely.

CHAPTER V
THE SIEGE OF BOSTON
BUNKER HILL revealed at once the strength
and weakness of the Americans. At Bunker
Hill, as at Concord and Lexington, it was the
people who had risen up and fought, just as fifteen years
later it was the people of France who rose up and defied
Europe, unchaining a new force which the rulers of
Europe despised until it crushed them. So England de
spised her colonists, and when they turned against her
they started the great democratic movement and let loose
against the mother-country a new force, that of a whole
people ready to do battle for their rights. The power
which this new force had and the native fighting qualities
of the American soldiers were vividly shown at Bunker
Hill, and there, too, was exhibited its weakness. The
popular army was unorganized, divided into separate
bands quite independent of each other, undisciplined, and
unled. Hence the ultimate defeat which prevision, organ
ization, and tenacity of purpose would have so easily pre
vented. What the people could do fighting for them
selves and their own rights was plain. Equally plain was
the point where they failed. Could they redeem this
failure and eradicate the cause of it ? Could the popular
force be organized, disciplined, trained, and made subor-
Vol. I — 7 97

98 THE STORY OF THE REVOLUTION
dinate to a single purpose ? In other words, could it
produce a leader, recognize him when found, concentrate
in him all the power and meaning it had, rise out of
anarchy and chaos into order and light, and follow one
man through victory and defeat to ultimate triumph ?
These were the really great questions before the American
people when the smoke had cleared and the bodies had
been borne away from the slopes of Breed's Hill.
In such a time few men look below the surface of
events and the actors in it must deal with the hard, insist
ent facts which press close against them. No one realized
that the American people had been brought suddenly to a
harder trial than facing British bayonets. No one under
stood at the moment that it must quickly be determined
whether the popular movement was able to bring forth a
leader, and then submit to and obey him, or whether after
an outburst of brave fighting it was to fall back into
weakness, confusion, and defeat.
Yet this mighty question was upon them, and even
while they were still counting their dead in Boston and
Cambridge, the leader was on his way to put his fortune,
which was that of the American Revolution, to the test.
On June 21st Washington started from Philadelphia. He
had ridden barely twenty miles when he met the messen
gers from Bunker Hill. There had been a battle, they said.
He asked but one question, " Did the militia fight ? "
When told how they had fought, he said, " Then the liber
ties of the country are safe," and rode on. Give him men
who would fight and he would do the rest. Here was a
leader clearly marked out. Would the people risen up in
war recognize the great fact and acknowledge it ?
A pause in New York long enough to put Philip

THE SIEGE OF BOSTON

99

WASHINGTON TAKING COMMAND OF THE ARMY.
On July j, 177s, at about nine in the morning, Washington, with several of the general officers, went on foot
{not mounted, as he is often represented) to the elm still standing by the edge of Cambridge Common, and t/iere
said a few words to the assembled troops, drew his sword and took command of the Continental Army.

Schuyler in charge of military affairs in that colony, and
Washington pushed on through Connecticut. On July 2d
he was at Watertown, where he met the Provincial Con
gress of Massachusetts. An hour later, being little given

ioo THE STORY OF THE REVOLUTION
to talk, he rode on to Cambridge and reached headquar
ters. The next day the troops were all drawn out on
parade, and in their presence, and that of a great con
course, Washington drew his sword and formally took
command of the American army. The act performed,
cheers and shouts broke forth, and the booming of cannon
told the story to the enemy in Boston. The people were
evidently with him. They looked upon him as he rode
down the lines and were content. The popular movement
had found its leader, and the popular instinct recognized
him. Yet Washington came to the men of New England
a stranger. They were very different from him in thought,
in habits, and in modes of life, and like all strong people
they were set in their own ways and disposed to be sus
picious of those of others. But these men of New Eng
land none the less gave their entire confidence to Wash
ington at once and never withdrew it. As General in the
field, and later as President, he always had the loyal sup
port of these reserved, hard-headed, and somewhat cold,
people. They recognized him as a leader that morning
on Cambridge Common, for there was that in his look and
manner which impressed those who looked upon him with
a sense of power. He was a man to be trusted and fol
lowed, and the keen intelligence of New England grasped
the fact at the first glance.
Washington did not understand them quite as quickly
as they understood him, for with the people it was an in
stinct, while with him understanding came from experience.
At first, too, it was a rough experience. He found his new
soldiers independent in their ways, as unaccustomed to dis
cipline as they were averse to it, electing and deposing their
officers, disposed to insubordination, and only too ready to

THE SIEGE OF BOSTON

101

go off in order to attend to their domestic affairs, and return
in leisurely fashion when their business was done. To a sol
dier like Washington this was all intolerable, and he wrote
and said many severe things about them, no doubt accom
panying his words sometimes when he spoke with out-

VICINITY OF THE WASHINGTON ELM, CAMBRIDGE, AT THE PRESENT TIME.
In the background, enclosed by a fence and with a tablet marking it in front, is the historic tree under -which
Washington took command of the army.
bursts of wrath before which the boldest shrank. The of
ficers and contractors troubled him even more than the
men, for he found them hard bargainers, sharp, and, as it
often seemed to him, utterly selfish. He dealt with these
evils in the effective and rapid way with which he always
met such difficulties. In his own plain language he made

102 THE STORY OF THE REVOLUTION
"a good slam" among the wrong-doers and the faint
hearted. He broke several officers, put others under ar
rest, and swiftly changed the whole tone of the army. He
had less trouble with the rank and file than with the of
ficers, but all soon came straight, the criticisms of his
troops disappear from his letters, and six months later he
praises them in high terms. He entered on the war with
an army composed wholly of New England men. He
ended the revolution with an army, after seven years' fight
ing, largely made up from the same New England people,
and then it was that he said that there were no better
troops in the world. The faults which annoyed him so
much at the outset had long since vanished under his
leadership, and the fine qualities of the men, their cour
age, intelligence, endurance, and grim tenacity of purpose
had become predominant.
Washington, a great commander, had the genius for
getting all that was best out of the men under him, but
the work of organizing and disciplining the army at Cam
bridge was the least of the troubles which confronted him
when he faced the situation at Boston. Moreover, he
knew all the difficulties, for he not only saw them, but he
was never under delusions as to either pleasant or disagree
able facts. One of his greatest qualities was his absolute
veracity of mind ; he always looked a fact of any sort
squarely in the face, and this is what he saw when he turned
to the task before him. The town of Boston, the richest,
and next to Philadelphia the most populous in the colonies,
was in the hands of the enemy, who had some twelve
thousand regular troops, well armed, perfectly disciplined,
and thoroughly supplied with every munition of war. This
well-equipped force had command of the sea, and how

THE SIEGE OF BOSTON 103
much the sea-power meant, Washington understood thor
oughly. He knew with his broad grasp of mind what no
one else appreciated at all, that in the sea-power was the
key of the problem and the strength of the English. That
gone, all would be easy. While England commanded the
sea the struggle was certain to be long and doubtful. All
the later years of the war, indeed, were devoted by Wash
ington to a combination by which through the French al
liance he could get a sea-control. When he succeeded, he
swept the chief British army out of existence, and ended
the war. But here at the start at Boston the enemy had
control of the sea, and there was no way of getting it from
them. The set task of getting the British out of Boston
must be performed, therefore, while they commanded the
sea, and had a powerful fleet at their backs. What means
did Washington have to accomplish this formidable under
taking ? An unorganized army of raw men, brave and
ready to fight, but imperfectly armed, and still more im
perfectly disciplined. The first thing that Washington did
on taking command was to count his soldiers, and at the
end of eight days he had a complete return, which he
should have obtained in an hour, and that return showed
him fourteen thousand men instead of the twenty thousand
he had been promised. What a task it was to drive from
Boston twelve thousand regular troops, supported by a
fleet ; and only fourteen thousand militia to do it with.
How could it be done ? Not by a popular uprising, for
uprisings do not hold out for months with patient endur
ance and steady pushing toward a distant aim. No, this
was work that must be done by one man, embodying and
leading, it is true, the great popular force which had started
into life, but still one man. It was for George Washing-

104 THE STORY OF THE REVOLUTION
ton, with such means as he had or could create, to take the
town, and the story of the siege of Boston is simply the
story of how he did it.
Very rapidly discipline improved, and the militia took
on the ways and habits of a regular army. The lines were
extended and every strategic point covered, so that in a
short time it was really impossible for the enemy to get
out except by a pitched battle fought at great disadvan
tage. Observers in the army and on the spot could not
explain just how this was all brought about, but they knew
what was done, and they saw the new general on the lines
every day. By the end of July the army was in good form,
ready to fight and to hold their works. Then it was sud
denly discovered that there was no gunpowder in the camp.
An extensive line of works to be defended, a well-furnished
regular army to be besieged, and only nine rounds of am
munition per man to do it with. There could hardly have
been a worse situation, for if under such conditions the
enemy were to make a well-supported sally, they could only
be resisted for a few minutes at most. Washington faced
the peril in silence and without wavering. Hard-riding
couriers were despatched all over the country to every vil
lage and town to ask for, and, if need be, seize powder. A
vessel was even sent to the Bermudas, where it was re
ported some gunpowder was to be had. By these desper
ate efforts enough powder was obtained to relieve the
immediate strain, but all through the winter the supply
continued to be dangerously low.
The anxieties and labors of the army and the siege were
enough to tax the strongest will and the keenest brain to
the utmost, and yet Washington was obliged to carry at
the same time all the responsibility for military operations

A P

By the K I
O C L A I
For fuppreffing Rebellion and Sedition.

A T I O N,

«? £ O K G E R.
I! t R.EAS many of Our Subjc&s in clivers Paits of Our Colonics and Plantations
in North America, nulled by dangerous and ill-defigning Men, and forgetting
the Allegiance which they owe to the Power that has protected and I II d
[hem, after various dilbrderly Acls committed in Difturbance ot the Pul lick
Peace, to the Obftruftion of lawful Commerce, and to the Opprefiion of Our
loyal Subject's carrying on the lame, have at length proceeded to an open and
avowed Rebellion, by arraying thcmfclves in hollile Manner to wirhftand the
Execution ol the Law, and traitoroufly preparing, ordering, and levvmn War
againll Us- And whereas (her- W X>.r-i(ha-tj-< Tjucacnu' tiat llicfi Rebellion hath
been tncicn promoted' aid' encouraged by the traitorous Condpondcncc, Counlcls, and Comfon of
divers wicked and dclperate P. i ions within this Realm : To the End therefore that none ol Our Subjects
may ncglcfl or violate tiicir Duty through Ignorance thereof, or through any Doubt of the Protection
which the Law will afford to their Loyalty and Zeal; We have thought fit, by and with the Advice of
Our Privy Council, to i Hue this Our Royal Proclamation, hereby declaring that not only all Our
:. Ci\ il and Military arc obliged to exert their utmolt Endeavours to fupprcls fuch Rebellion, and
to bring the Traitors to Juftice; but that all Our Subjects of this Realm and the Dominions thereunto
(ping jvc bound by Law to be aiding and allilling in the Supprelliou of fuch Rebellion, and to
difclofe and n.al.e known all traitorous Conspiracies and Attempts againll Us, Our Crown and Dignity;
And We do accordingly fr.ricr.ty charge and command all Our Officers as well Civil as Military,
and all other Our obedient and loyal Subjects, to ufe their utmoft Endeavours to withftand and
(up] refs Inch Rebellion, and to difclofe and make known all Trcafons and traitorous Con!|<i-
r.icics which they fhatl know to be againll Us, Our Crown and Dignity; and for that Purpofe,

that they tranfmit to One of Our Principal. Secretaries of State, or other proper Officer,
full Information of all Pcrfbns who (hall be found carrying on Corrclpondcncc with, i
incr or Degree aiding or abetting the Pcrfons now in open Arms and Rebellion a;
' overnment within any of Our Colonics and Plantations in North America, in order t<
. li ;n i uiiilhmcnt the Authors, Perpetrators, and Abettors of fuch traitorous Dcfigns.
Gi>. en at Our Court at St. Jama's, the Twenty-third Day of AuguJI, One
le-vcn hundred and feventy-five, in the Fifteenth Year of Our Reign

due a

nd

inlt

any
Our

i land

God (ave the

King.

LONDON:
fruited by Cbarla Ejre and William Sirahan, Printers to the King's mod Excellent Majcfly. "-75-

A PROCLAMATION BY KING GEORGE III., AUGUST, j^j.
Reproduced from one of the original broadsides in Dr. Emmet's collection now in the Lenox Library.

1 06 THE STORY OF THE REVOLUTION
everywhere. He was watching Johnson and his Indians
in the valley of the Mohawk, and Tryon and the Tories in
New York. He was urged to send troops to this place
and that, and he had to consider every demand and say
" no " as he did to Connecticut and Long Island when he
thought that the great objects of his campaign would be
injured by such a diversion. At the same time he planned
and sent out expeditions aimed at a distant but really vital
point which showed how he grasped the whole situation,
and how true his military conceptions were. He saw that
one of the essential parts of his problem was to prevent in
vasion from the north, and that this could be done best by
taking possession of Canada. Success in this direction was
possible, if at all, only by an extremely quick and early
movement, for in a very short time the British would be
so strong in the valley of the St. Lawrence that any at
tempt on their positions would be quite hopeless. He
therefore sent one expedition under Montgomery by Lake
Champlain to Montreal, and another under Arnold through
Maine to meet the New York forces at Ouebec. Mont-
gomery met with entire success. He passed up the lake,
after a siege took St. Johns, and then pressed on to Mon
treal, which he captured without difficulty. Meantime
Arnold, with some eleven hundred men, was making his
desperate march through the forests of Maine. Even now
a large part of his route is still a wilderness. He encoun
tered every obstacle and hardship that it is possible to con
ceive — hunger, cold, exposure, terrible marches through
primeval woods, voyages down turbulent streams, where
boats were sunk and upset with the drowning of men and
loss of provisions and munitions. Still Arnold kept on
with the reckless daring and indomitable spirit so charac-

THE SIEGE OF BOSTON

107

teristic of the man. With a sadly diminished force he came
out at last in the open country, and after a short rest pushed
on to the St. Lawrence. When he reached Point Levi,
opposite Quebec, there was no Montgomery to meet him.
Nevertheless he crossed the river, but his force was too small

CAPE DIAMOND AND THE
CITADEL, QUEBEC.
At a narrow point under Cape Dia
mond, Montgomery, who was leading
the first division in the attack mi Que
bec, was killed.

to attack, and he withdrew. Meantime Burr, disguised as a
priest, reached Montreal from Quebec, and Montgomery
came down the river and joined Arnold, but only with some
three hundred men. It was now December and a Canadian
winter was upon them. Nevertheless, the united forces, to
the number of a thousand, made a desperate attack upon the

io8

THE STORY OF THE REVOLUTION

TABLET ON THE ROCKS OF CAPE DIA
MOND BEARING THE INSCRIPTION
"MONTGOMERY FELL, DEC'R 31, J7ys."

city. Montgomery was killed in the assault, and his men
repulsed. Arnold penetrated into the city, was badly
wounded, and forced to leave the field. Carleton, enabled
by the defeat of Montgomery to concentrate his defence,
forced Morgan, who had succeeded to the command after
some desperate fighting in the streets, to surrender. This
was really the end of the attempt on Canada, despite the
fact that Arnold, with only five hundred men, held Carle-
ton besieged in Quebec all winter. But although new

THE SIEGE OF BOSTON

109

generals came, and in the spring Washington at great risk
detached reinforcements from his own army to aid the men
in the north, on the breaking up of the ice in the river the
Americans were compelled to withdraw from Quebec and
later from Montreal. The attempt had failed, the north
and the valley of the St. Lawrence remained open to Eng
land, and Canada was lost to the Americans. It was a
well-conceived, boldly planned expedition, defeated by a
series of unforeseen obstacles here, and a little
delay there ; but its failure was very fruitful of
consequences, both near and remote,
just as its success would have been in
another direction.
Planning and carrying 1
on bold schemes, like this |
against Canada, was far
more to Washington's taste
than the grinding, harass
ing work of slowly or
ganizing an army, and
without proper |
material pressing
siege- operations.
Still he kept every
thing well in hand.
He chafed under
the delays of the
work at Boston ;
he knew that at
this juncture time
helped England,
and he wanted to

THE MONUMENT TO MONTGOMERY, ST. PAUL'S
CHURCH, NEW YORK CITY.

Erected by the order of Congress, January 25, 1776.

no THE STORY OF THE REVOLUTION
make the fullest use of the first energy of the popular en
thusiasm. Early in September he proposed an attack on
Boston by boats and along Roxbury Neck, and a little-
later another of similar character. In both cases his coun
cil of officers went against him, and he had not reached that
point of discipline where he could afford to disregard them
and follow his own opinion alone, as he so often did after
ward. Councils of officers, however, were not his only-trouble
or hindrance. Congress wanted speed ; while his officers
thought him rash, Congress thought him slow, and de
manded the impossible. They wondered why he did not
at once secure the harbor without ships, and urged him to
set up batteries and open on the town when he had neither
siege-guns nor powder. Congress had to be managed, and
so did the Provincial Congresses, each unreasonable in its
own way, and from them, moreover, he was compelled to
procure money and supplies and men. With infinite tact
and patience he succeeded with them all. Enlistments ex
pired, and he was obliged to lose his old army and replace it
with a new one — not a pleasant or easy undertaking in the
presence of the enemy and in the midst of a New England
winter. But it was done. Privateers began to appear, and
rendered great service by their attacks on the enemy's com
merce. They brought in many valuable prizes, and Wash
ington had to be a naval department, and, in a measure, an
admiralty court. Again the work was done. Gage treated
American prisoners badly. With dignity, firmness, and a
good deal of stern vigor, Washington brought him to
terms and taught him a much-needed lesson both in hu
manity and manners.
So the winter wore on. LTnable to attack, and with no

THE ATTACK ON QUEBEC.

The Second Division, under Arnold, attacking. Arnold, w/io led this part of the attack, -was completely
disabled by a musket-wound in the knee, and was obliged to leave Che field.

THE SIEGE OF BOSTON 113
-material for siege-operations, he could only hold the Brit
ish where they were and make their situation difficult by
cutting off all supplies by land with his troops, and by
water with his privateers. It was dreary work, and no real
advance seemed to be made, until in February the well-di
rected efforts began to tell and light at last began to break.
Powder by great diligence had been gathered from every
corner, and the Americans now had it in sufficient quantity
to justify attack. Henry Knox, sent to Ticonderoga, had
brought thence on sledges over the snow the cannon cap
tured by Ethan Allen that memorable May morning. Thus
supplied, Washington determined to move. His first plan
was to cross the ice with his army and storm the city. This
suited his temperament, and also was the shortest way, as
well as the one which would be most destructive and ruin
ous to the enemy. Again, however, the officers protested.
They prevented the crossing on the ice, but they could no
longer hold back their chief. If he could not go across the
ice, then he would go by land, but attack he would. On
the evening of Monday, March 4th, under cover of a heavy
bombardment, he marched a large body of troops to Dor
chester Heights, and began to throw up redoubts. All night
long Washington rode up and down the lines encouraging
his men and urging them to work. He knew them now,
they had always believed in him, and under such leadership
and with such men, the works grew rapidly. When morn
ing broke there was, as on June 1 7th, great stir and excite
ment in Boston, and it was plain that the British meant to
come out and attack. Washington's spirits rose at the
prospect. He had had enough of siege-work, and was
eager to fight. Meantime his men worked on hard and
fast. The British troops made ready, but a gale came up
Vol. I.— 8

ii4 THE STORY OF THE REVOLUTION
and tney could not cross the bay. The next day there was
a storm and heavy rain. The next day it was too late ; the
works were too strong to be attempted successfully. Then
the Ticonderosra guns began to send shot and shell into
Boston, and parleys were opened. Howe, through the
selectmen, promised to evacuate if not molested, but if at
tacked declared that he would burn the town. Washing
ton assented to this proposition, but still Howe delayed,
and Washington, not fond of delays or uncertainties, ad
vanced his works. The hint was enough, and on March
1 7th, amid disorder and pillage, leaving cannon and much
else behind, eleven thousand British troops with about a
thousand Boston Tories went on board the fleet, while
Washington marched in at the other end of the town. The
fleet lingered at the entrance to the harbor, closely watched
by Washington, for a few days, and then sailed away to
Halifax. The victory was won. Boston was in the hands of the
Americans, and so remained. Except for raids here and
there, and an attack on Newport, the war in New England
was over, and those colonies, the richest and most populous,
with their long coast-line and ample harbors, were set free
to give all their strength to the general cause without being
held back or distracted by fighting for their own firesides.
To have driven the British from New England and from
her capital city in this complete and rapid fashion, was not
only a victory, but an achievement of immense importance
toward the ultimate success of the Revolution.
It was, moreover, in a purely military way, a very re
markable feat of arms. We cannot improve on Washing
ton's own statement, simple, concise, and sufficient as his
statements always are. " To maintain," he said, " a post

THE SIEGE OF BOSTON 115
within musket-shot of the enemy for six months together
without powder, and at the same time to disband one army
and recruit another within that distance of twenty odd
British regiments is more, probably, than was ever at
tempted." It was in truth a daring attempt, and the suc
cess was extraordinary. The beginning came from the
armed people of the colonies. The final victory was won
by the genius of Washington, whom the people had the
wisdom to obey and the sense and strength to follow.
The Americans outnumbered the British, but not more
than in the proportion of three to two, and this was little
enough, as they had to hold the outer and besieging line.
They were inferior to their opponents in discipline, equip
ment, organization, experience, and, worst of all, they had
no sea-power whatever. All English soldiers were brave,
and there could be no question about the unflinching cour
age of the men who had stormed the works at Bunker Hill.
How was it then that with all the odds in their favor, when
they should have broken the American lines and defeated
the American army again and again, how was it that they
were taken in an iron grip, held fast all winter, reduced to
great straits, and finally driven ignominiously from the town
they held by the army and the general they despised ? The
answer is really simple, difficult as the question seems on
the face. The American troops were of just as good fight
ing quality as the British, and they were led by a great
soldier, one of the great soldiers, as events showed, of the
century. The British were commanded by some physically
brave gentlemen of good family and slender intellect.
Such men as these had no chance against a general like
Washington so long as he had men who would fight and
enough gunpowder for his cannon and muskets. He

n6 THE STORY OF THE REVOLUTION
closed in on them, using to the utmost his inferior re
sources, and finally had them in so tight a grip that there
was nothing for them but flight or a bloody defeat in the
streets of a burning town. It was neither by accident nor
by cowardice that the British were beaten out of Boston ;
it was by the military capacity of one man triumphing
over extraordinary difficulties of his own and helped by
unusual stupidity and incompetence on the part of his
enemy whom he accurately estimated.
How was it, to go a step farther, that such men as
Gage and Clinton and Howe were sent out to conquer men
of their own race, risen in arms, and led by George Wash
ington ? For the same reason that the British soldiers were
marched up the slopes of Bunker Hill as if they were go
ing on a holiday parade. It was because England's Minis
ters and people knew nothing of the Americans, wanted to
know nothing, despised them, thought them cowards, and
never dreamed for one moment that they could produce a
great general. There was absolutely no reason in the
nature of things why the Americans should not be able to
fight and bring forth great commanders. As a matter of
fact they did both, but as they were no longer native Eng
lishmen, England believed they could do neither. Bunker
Hill threw some light on the first theory ; George Wash
ington riding into Boston in the wake of a flying British
army, illuminated the second. England learned nothing
from either event, except that coercion would require larger
forces than she had anticipated ; still less did she suspect
that the men who could write the State papers of Congress
could also be diplomatists and find powerful allies. She
was about to win some military successes, as was to be ex
pected with the odds so largely in her favor. Encouraged

THE SIEGE OF BOSTON 117
by them, she paid no real heed either to Bunker Hill or
Boston, and neither revised her estimate of the American
soldier, nor paid much attention to his chief. Yet both
events were of inestimable importance, for one showed the
fighting quality of the American people, the other the
military capacity and moral force of Washington, and it was
by the fighting of the American soldier and the ability and
indomitable courage of Washington that the American
Revolution came to victory. Much else contributed to
that victory, but without Washington and the soldiers who
followed him, it would have been impossible.

CHAPTER VI
THE SPREAD OF REVOLUTION
It would have been a very obvious part of good mili
tary judgment for the British commanders to endeavor to
force Washington away from Boston by assailing his com
munications to the west and south, or by attacks in other
important quarters, which would have demanded relief
from the main army. Military judgment, however, was
not a quality for which the British generals in Boston were
conspicuous. Still less is it conceivable that any of them
should have taken a broad view of the whole military situ
ation and sought to compel Washington to raise the siege
by a movement in another direction, as Scipio, to take a
proverbial example, forced Hannibal out of Italy by the
invasion of Africa. This none the less was one intelligent
course to pursue. Another equally sensible would have
been to concentrate the war at Boston, and by avoiding col
lisions and cultivating good relations with the people of
the other colonies endeavor to separate Massachusetts from
the rest of the continent. The British took neither course,
and so lost the advantages of both. They did enough to
alarm and excite the other colonies and to make them feel
that the cause of Massachusetts was their own, and yet they
did not do anything sufficiently effective to even distract
Washington's attention, much less loosen his iron grip on
Boston. n8

THE DESTRUCTION OF FALMOUTH, NOW THE CITY OF PORTLAND, ME.
I a. October, 177;, by a fleet under Captain Mowaft.

THE SPREAD OF REVOLUTION 121
In October, 1775, Captain Mowatt appeared off Fal
mouth, in Maine, where the city of Portland now stands,
opened fire and destroyed the little town by a heavy bom
bardment. It was an absolutely useless performance ; led
to nothing, and was hurtful to the British cause. Wash
ington at once made preparations to defend Portsmouth,
thinking that the New Hampshire town would be the next
victim, but the British had no plan, not enough even to
make their raids continuous and effective. They stopped
with the burning of Falmouth, which was sufficient to alarm
every coast-town in New England, and make the people
believe that their only hope of saving their homes was in a
desperate warfare ; and which at the same time did not
weaken the Americans in the least or force Washington
to raise the siege of Boston.
In explanation of the attack on Falmouth, it could at
least be said that it was a New England town and be
longed to Massachusetts, and that all New England prac
tically was in arms. But even this could not be urged in
defence of the British policy elsewhere. In the middle
colonies, where the loyalists were strong and the people
generally conservative, little was done to hurry on the Rev
olution. The English representatives, except Tryon, who
was active and intriguing in New York, behaved, on the
whole, with sense and moderation, and did nothing to pre
cipitate the appeal to arms.
In the South the case was widely different. The Brit
ish governors there, one after the other, became embroiled
with the people at the earliest moment ; then, without be
ing in the least personal danger, fled to a man-of-war, and
wound up by making some petty and ineffective attack
which could have no result but irritation. Thus Lord

122 THE STORY OF THE REVOLUTION
Dunmore behaved in Virginia. It is true that that great
colony was like New England, almost a unit in the policy
of resistance to England, yet she had committed no overt
act herself, and good sense would seem to have dictated
every effort to postpone the appeal to force. Lord Dun-
more, however, after much arguing and proclaiming, be
took himself to a man-of-war. There was nothing san
guinary or murderous about the American Revolution, for
it was waged on a principle and not in revenge for wrongs ;
but, nevertheless, Lord Dunmore apparently thought his
precious life was in peril. Having ensconced himself
safely in the war-ship, with a delightful absence of humor
he summoned the assembly to meet him at the seat of
government, an invitation not accepted by the Burgesses.
Then he dropped down the river, was joined by some ad
ditional war-ships, made an attack on the village of Hamp
ton, and was repulsed. Foiled there, he took position in
the rear of Norfolk, commanding the bridge, and drove
off some militia. The Virginians, now thoroughly aroused,
called out some troops, a sharp action ensued, and the
British forces were very creditably beaten. Still unsat
isfied, Lord Dunmore proceeded to bombard and destroy
Norfolk, the largest and most important town in the col
ony. This was his last exploit, but he had done a good
deal. His flight had cleared the way for an independent
provincial government. His attack on Hampton and the
fight at the bridge had brought war into Virginia, and her
people, brave, hardy, and very ready to fight, had quickly
crossed the Rubicon and committed themselves to revolu
tion. The burning of Norfolk, wanton as it was, added to
the political resistance a keen sense of wrong, and a desire
for vengeance which were not present before. The de-

THE SPREAD OF REVOLUTION 123
struction of the Virginia seaport also had the effect of ex
citing and alarming the whole Southern seaboard, and
brought no advantage whatever to the cause of England.
Altogether, it seems that Lord Dunmore's policy, if he was
capable of having one, was to spread the Revolution as fast,
and cement the union of all the colonies as strongly, as
possible. Unlike Virginia, the Carolinas were sharply divided in
regard to the differences with the mother-country. In
North Carolina there was a strong loyalist party, the bulk
of which numerically was formed of Highlanders who had
come to America since 1745, and conspicuous among
whom were the famous Flora Macdonald and her husband.
Martin, the Governor there, went through the customary
performances of British governors. He stirred up one part
of the community against the other, set a civil war on
foot in the colony, betook himself to a man-of-war, and
cried out for help from England. The usual result fol
lowed. The loyalists attacked the Minute Men under Cas
well, who had posted themselves at a bridge from which
they had taken the planks. The Highlanders gallantly
attempted to cross on the beams but were beaten back, for
the claymore wTas no match for the rifle. In this way the
colony was alienated from the Crown, fighting was started,
the party of revolution and resistance was left with a clear
field and a free hand as the only positive force, to set up
an independent government and seize all authority.
In South Carolina there was a similar division between
the people and planters of the seaboard, who were on the
American side, and the herdsmen and small farmers of the
interior, many of whom inclined strongly to the Crown.
This division, Lord William Campbell the Governor —

124 THE STORY OF THE REVOLUTION
made such merely because he was one of a noble family —
did all in his power to foment. British agents were sent
into the western counties to rouse the inhabitants, and not
content with this, these same agents began to intrigue with
the Indians. If any one thing was more calculated than all
else to make the rupture with the mother-country hopeless,
it was the idea of letting loose the Indians upon the frontier.
To incite this savage warfare was to drive the Americans to
desperation and to convert even loyalists to the cause of
resistance and hatred against England. Yet the English
Ministry resorted to this inhuman scheme, and in the
North their Indian allies fought for them diligently and
damaged their cause irreparably. The Indian intriguing
in South Carolina did not, at this time, come to much, but
Lord William Campbell apparently felt that he had done
enough. He had stirred up strife, incited the patriots to
begin the work of fortifying Charleston Harbor, and then
he departed to the customary man-of-war, leaving his oppo
nents to take control of the government while he urged aid
from England, and explained what cowards and poor creat
ures generally the Americans were from whom he had run
away. Georgia was weak, the youngest of all the colonies, and
her Governor, Sir James Wright, was prudent and concilia
tory. So the colony kept quiet, sent no delegates to the
first, and only one, who was locally chosen, to the second
Congress. The condition of Georgia was a lesson as to
the true policy of England had her Ministry understood
how to divide the colonies one from another. But they
seemed to think that the way to hold the colonies to Eng
land and to prevent their union, was to make a show of
force everywhere. Such stupidity, as Dr. Johnson said,

THE SPREAD OF REVOLUTION 125
does not seem in nature, but that it existed is none the
less certain. So in due course, dulness being in full con
trol in London, a small squadron appeared off Savannah.
Immediately the people who had been holding back from
revolution rose in arms. Sir James Wright was arrested,
and the other officers of the Crown fled, or were made
prisoners. Three weeks later the Governor escaped, took
refuge in the conventional manner on a convenient man-of-
war, and then announced that the people were under the
control of the Carolinas and could only be subdued by
force. Thus Georgia, menaced by England and deserted
by her Governor, passed over to independence and organ
ized a government of her own, when she might have been
kept at least neutral, owing to her position, her weakness,
and her exposed frontier.
The actions of their governors were sufficient to alienate
the Southern colonies and push on the movement toward
independence, but a far more decisive step was taken by
the English Government itself. In October, 1775, the
King decided that the South, which had thus far done
nothing but sympathize with the North and sustain Massa
chusetts in Congress, must be attacked and brought by
force into a proper frame of mind. The King therefore
planned an expedition against the Southern colonies in
October and decided that Clinton should have the com
mand. The manner in which this affair was managed is
an illustration of the incapacity of English administration,
which so recently, under Pitt, had sustained Frederick of
Prussia, and conquered North America from the French.
Not until February did the expedition under Admiral
Parker sail with the fleet and transports from Cork. Not
until May did Clinton receive his instructions, and it was

126 THE STORY OF THE REVOLUTION
the third of that month when the fleet, much scattered,
finally entered Cape Fear River. The conduct of the ex
pedition conformed with its organization, and differences
between the general and the admiral began at once. Clin
ton wanted to go to the Chesapeake, while Lord William
Campbell urged an attack on Charleston. The latter's
council prevailed, and after Cornwallis had landed, de
stroyed a plantation, and roused the people of North
Carolina by a futile raid, the fleet departed for the south.
It was the first day of June when news was brought to
Charleston that a fleet of forty or fifty sail were some twenty
miles north of the bar. The tidings were grave indeed, but
South Carolina had improved the time since Lord William
Campbell's departure under the bold and vigorous leader
ship of John Rutledge, who had been chosen President of
the colony. Work had been pushed vigorously on the de
fences, and especially at Sullivan's Island, where a fort of
palmetto-wood was built and manned under the direction
and command of William Moultrie. Continental troops
arrived from the North. First came General Armstrong
of Pennsylvania, then two North Carolina regiments, and
then the best regiment of Virginia. Also came General
Charles Lee, to whom great deference was paid on account
of his rank in the Continental Army, and still more be
cause he was an Englishman. As usual, however, Lee did
no good, and if his advice had been followed he would
have done much harm. He made an early visit to Sulli
van's Island, pronounced the fort useless, and advised its
abandonment. Moultrie, a very quiet man of few words,
replied that he thought he could hold the fort, which was
all he ever said apparently to any of the prophets of evil
who visited him. At all events, sustained by Rutledge, he

THE SPREAD OF REVOLUTION

127

stayed quietly and silently where he was, strengthening the
fort and making ready for an attack. Lee, who took the
British view that British sol
diers were invincible, then pro
ceeded to do everything in his
power to make them so, and
being unable to induce Rut
ledge to order the abandon
ment of the island, he with
drew some of the troops and
then devoted himself to urging
Moultrie to build a bridge to
retreat over. Moultrie, how
ever, like many other brave
men, had apparently a simple
and straightforward mind. He
had come to fight, not retreat,
and he went on building his fort and paid little attention
to the matter of the bridge.
But although Lee was doing all the damage he could
by interfering with Moultrie, the government of the colony
gave the latter hearty backing and supported him by well-
arranged defences. Fortunately, there was an abundance
of men to draw upon — all the South Carolina militia, the
continental troops, and the regiments from North Carolina
and Virginia. Armstrong, who acted cordially with Moul
trie, was at Hadrell's Point with some fifteen hundred men,
while Thomson, of Orangeburg, with nearly a thousand
riflemen from the Carolinas, was sent to the island to sup
port the garrison. In addition to this, Gadsden, with the
first Carolina regiment, occupied Fort Johnson, and there
were about two thousand more men in the city. Charles-

GENERAL WILLIAM MOULTRIE.
From the painting by John Trumbull, jjgi.

128

THE STORY OF THE REVOLUTION

ton itself had also been diligently and rapidly fortified
when the Government heard of the coming of the British ;
warehouses had been taken down and batteries and works
established along the water-front. The
* skill, thoroughness, and intelligence shown
in the preparations of South Carolina were
wholly admirable, and to them was largely
due the victory which was won.
Zealously, however, as these prepara
tions had been made, they were in a large
measure completed and per
fected only after the news of
the coming of the British fleet
and army had been received.
It seems almost incredible
when time was so vital to suc
cess that the English should
have given to their opponents
such ample opportunity to
make ready. But so it was.
It was the ist of June when
Parker came off the bar with his ships, and a month elapsed
before he attacked. Such inefficiency is not easily under
stood ; nor is it clear why the English should have been
so delayed. They seem indeed to have simply wasted
their time. Not until June 7th did Clinton send on shore
his proclamation denouncing the rebels. On the 9th he be
gan to disembark his men on Long Island, having been
told that there was a practicable ford between that place
and Sullivan's Island where the fort stood, a piece of in
formation which he did not even take the trouble to verify.
On the ioth the British came over the bar with thirty or

OLD ST. MICHAEL'S CHURCH.
CHARLESTON, S. C.
The Steeple Served as a Beaconfor the Mariners
of the Time.

THE SPREAD OF REVOLUTION 129
forty vessels, including the transports. What they did dur
ing the ensuing week is not clear. Clinton completed the
landing of his troops, more than three thousand in num
ber, on the island, which was a naked sand-bar, where the
men were scorched by the sun, bitten by mosquitoes, forced
to drink bad water, and suffered from lack of provisions.
Having comfortably established his army in this desirable
spot, he then thoughtfully looked for the practicable ford,
found there was none, and announced the interesting dis
covery to Sir Peter Parker. That excellent seaman was
not apparently disturbed. Indeed, his interest in Clinton
seems to have been of the slightest. He exercised his
sailors and marines in the movements for entering a fort,
and felt sure of an easy victory, for he despised the
Americans, and was confident that he could get on per
fectly well without Clinton. In this view he was encour
aged by letters from the Governor of East Florida, who
assured him that South Carolina was really loyal, and that
the fort would yield at once, while he was still further
cheered by the arrival of the Experiment, a fifty-gun ship.
Thus strengthened, and with a fair wind, he at last bore
down toward the fort on June 28th.
Moultrie was entirely ready. He sent Thomson with
the riflemen down toward the east to watch Clinton on
Long Island and to prevent his crossing, while with four
hundred and fifty men he prepared to defend the fort him
self. The attack began about ten o'clock in the morning.
First two vessels shelled the fort, then four more (including
the Bristol and Experiment, fifty -gun ships) anchored with
in four hundred yards of the fort and opened a heavy fire.
The palmetto logs stood the shots admirably, for the balls
sank into the soft wood, which neither broke nor splint-
Vox. I.— 9

130 THE STORY OF THE REVOLUTION
ered. To counterbalance this good fortune, Moultrie, un
luckily, had very little powder and received only a small
additional supply later in the day, so that he was obliged to
husband his resources, and kept up a slow, although steady,
fire. It was, however, well aimed and very destructive.
The Bristol suffered severely ; her cables were cut, and as
she swung to the tide the Americans raked her. Three
fresh ships which came up ran aground. The men in the
fort suffered but little, and when the flag was shot away,
Sergeant Jasper sprang to the parapet in the midst of the
shot and shell and replaced it on a halberd. So the day
slowly passed. The British kept up a heavy cannonade,
while the Americans replied by a slow and deadly fire,
striking the ships with almost every shot. Meantime the
army on Long Island assisted as spectators. Clinton looked
at the place where the ford should have been and decided
not to cross. He then put some of his men in boats, but
on examining Thomson and his riflemen, perhaps with
memories of Bunker Hill floating in his mind, concluded
that to attempt a landing would be a mere waste of life.
So he stayed on the sand-bank and sweltered, and watched
the ships. At last the long hot day drew to a close and
Admiral Parker, having suffered severely, and made no
impression whatever on the fort, slipped his cables and
dropped down to his old anchorage.
When morning came, the results of the fighting were
apparent. The Actseon was aground, and was burned to
the water's edge. The Bristol had lost two masts, and was
practically a wreck. The Experiment was little better.
Altogether, the British lost two hundred and five men
killed and wounded, and one man-of-war. The Americans
lost eleven men killed, and had twenty-six wounded. It

THE DEFENCE OF FORT SULLIVAN, JUNE 28, 1776.
With four hundred andfifty men General Moultrie successfully -withstood the British cannonade.

THE SPREAD OF REVOLUTION 133
was a very well-fought action, and the honor of the day
belonged to Moultrie, whose calm courage and excellent
dispositions enabled him to hold the fort and beat off the
enemy. Much was also due to the admirable arrangements
made by the South Carolinians, under the lead of Rutledge
who had every important point well-covered and strongly
held. On the side of the British, to the long and injurious
delays was added fatal blundering when they finally went

¦^t: ->*¦
H^*^^^

-^//

FORT MOULTRIE, A T THE PRESENT DA V.
On the site of Fort Sullivan.
into action. Clinton's men were stupidly imprisoned on
Long Island, and rendered utterly useless. Parker, in
stead of running the fort and attacking the city, which
from a naval point of view was the one thing to do, for
the capture or destruction of the city would have rendered
all outposts untenable, anchored in front of the fort within
easy range, and tried to pound it down. It was so well
built that it resisted his cannonade, and all the advantage

134 THE STORY OF THE REVOLUTION
was with Moultrie and his men, who with perfect coolness
and steady aim cut the men-of-war to pieces, and would
have done much more execution if they had been well
supplied with powder. It was the same at Charleston as
elsewhere. Parker believed that the Americans could not,
and would not, fight, but would run away as soon as he
laid his ships alongside and began to fire. He never
stopped to think that men who drew their blood from Eng
land, from the Scotch-Irish, and from the Huguenots, came
of fighting stocks, and that the mere fact that they lived
in America and not in Great Britain did not necessarily
alter their courage or capacity. So he gave them ample
time to make ready, and then, on the theory that they
would run like sheep, he put his ships up as targets at close
range and imagined that he would thus take the fort.
No braver people lived than the South Carolinians. They
stood their ground, kept the fort, and fought all day
stripped to the waist under the burning sun. After ten
hours Parker found his ships terribly cut up and the fort
practically intact. Whether during the night he reflected
on what had happened, and saw that his perfect contempt
for the Americans was the cause of his defeat, no one now
can say. Certain it is, however, that after exchanging
recriminations with Clinton he gave up any idea of further
attack. Clinton and his regiments got off in about three
weeks for New York, and Parker, as soon as he was able,
departed with his fleet to refit.
The British expedition, politically speaking, ought never
to have been sent at all, for its coming simply completed
the alienation of the Southern colonies. From a military
point of view, it was utterly mismanaged from beginning
to end, and the victory won by South Carolina, led by

THE SPREAD OF REVOLUTION 13S
Moultrie and his men, was of immense importance. It
consolidated the South and at the same time set them free
for three years from British invasion, thus enabling them
to give their aid when it was needed in the middle colonies.
When war again came upon them the British had been so
far checked that the North was able to come to the help
of the South. Washington's victory at Boston and the re
pulse of the British fleet at Charleston, by relieving New
England and the South, enabled the Americans to con
centrate in the middle colonies at the darkest time when
the fate of the revolution was in suspense. The failure of
England to hold her position in Massachusetts, or to main
tain her invasion of the South, was most disastrous to her
cause. Either by political management or force of arms,
she should have separated these regions from the great
central provinces. She failed in both directions, and only
did enough to drive the colonies together and to encourage
the Americans to fight.

A

CHAPTER VII
INDEPENDENCE
FTER they had provided themselves with a General
and an army, and the General had ridden away
to Boston, Congress found themselves in a new
position. They had come into existence to represent, in
a united way, the views of the colonies in regard to the
differences which had arisen with the mother-country,
a duty they had performed most admirably. The State
papers in which they had set forth their opinions and
argued their case were not only remarkable, but they
had commanded respect and admiration even in England,
and had attracted attention on the Continent of Europe.
This was the precise business for which they had been
chosen, and they had executed their commission with
dignity and ability. They had elevated their cause in the
eyes of all men, and had behaved with wisdom and pru
dence. But this work of theirs was an appeal to reason, and
the weapons were debate and argument with which while
they were trying to convince England of the justice of
their demands, they had strengthened the opinions and
sharpened the convictions of their own people. Thus had
they stimulated the popular movement which had brought
Congress into existence, and thus did they quicken the
march of events which bore them forward even in their
136

INDEPENDENCE 137
own despite. While they resolved and argued and drafted
addresses and petitions in Philadelphia, other Americans
fought at Concord and Bunker Hill and Ticonderoga.
While they discussed and debated, an army of their fellow-
citizens gathered around Boston and held a British army
besieged. Thus was the responsibility of action forced
upon them. They could not escape it. They had them
selves helped to create the situation which made the battles
in Massachusetts the battles of all the colonies alike. So
they proceeded to adopt the army, make generals, and
borrow money. In other words, under the pressure of
events, these men who had assembled merely to consult and
resolve and petition, suddenly became a law-making and
executive government. For the first of these functions,
thanks to the natural capacity of the race, they were suf
ficiently well adapted to meet the emergency. If they
could pass resolutions, publish addresses, and put forth
arguments, as they had done with signal ability, they
were entirely capable of passing all the laws necessary
for a period of revolution. But when it came to the
business of execution and administration, they were almost
entirely helpless. That they had no authority was but the
least of their difficulties, for authority they could and did
assume. Far more serious was the fact that they had no
assurance that anything they did or said would be heeded
or obeyed, for they represented thirteen colonies, each
one of which believed itself to be sovereign and on an
equality with the Congress. They were obliged there
fore to trust solely to the force of circumstances and
to public opinion for obedience to their decrees, and al
though this obedience came after a halting fashion under
the pressure of war, it rested on very weak foundations.

138 THE STORY OF THE REVOLUTION
They had no frame of government whatever, no organiza
tion, no chief executive, no departments for the transaction
of the public business. Yet they were compelled to carry on
a war, and war depends but little on legislation and almost
wholly on executive action. No legislative body is really
fit for executive work ; and able, wise, and patriotic as the
members of our first Congress were, they could not over
come this fatal defect. They chose committees as a matter
of course, and this mitigated the inherent evils of the
situation, but was very far from removing them. They
were still a legislative body trying to do in various direc
tions work which only a single man could properly under
take. Here then was the great weakness of the American
cause, and yet it could not be avoided. A Congress with
out power and forced to operate through thirteen distinct
sovereignties was the only executive government with
which the American Revolution began, and it never be
came much better, although some improvements were
effected. At the outset, moreover, the Congress was not
clear as to just what it meant to do. They were engaged
in actual and flagrant war with England, and at the same
time were arguing and reasoning with the mother-country
and trying to come to terms of peaceful settlement with
her. They despatched George Washington to beleaguer
a British army, and at the same time clung to their alle
giance to the British Crown. When events forced them to
action under these conditions, the feebleness of Congress
as an executive government soon became painfully ap
parent. They sent Washington off with nothing but his com
mission, and hoped that they could in one campaign bring
about a treaty with England. The New York Provincial

INDEPENDENCE 139
Congress came forward with a plan of peaceful reconcilia
tion, which was all very well, if England had been willing
to listen to anything of that sort, and the Continental
Congress still labored under the same delusion. Yet there
were the hard facts of the situation continually knocking
at the door and insisting on an answer. So, even while
they were considering plans for peace, they were obliged
to act. Money had to be obtained in some way, for
schemes of reconciliation paid no bills, and they had
adopted an army and made a general. How were they to
get it? They had no authority to impose taxes. It is
true that they could have assumed this as they did much
other authority, but they had neither the power nor the
machinery to collect taxes if they imposed them. The
collection of taxes could not be assumed, for it was some
thing to be done by proper executive force, of which they
were destitute. Thus pressed, they resorted to the easy
and disastrous expedient of issuing continental bills of
credit, merely pledging the colonies to redeem them, and
without any provision for really raising money at all.
Probably, this was the best that could be done, but it was
a source of weakness and came near wrecking the Amer
ican cause. They also adopted a code for the government
of the army ; authorized the invasion of Canada, and sent
agents to the Indians to prevent their forming alliances
with Great Britain.
These things accomplished, Congress turned again to
the business for which they had been chosen, the defence
of the American position ; and on July 6th published a
declaration of the reasons for taking up arms. This was
done thoroughly well. They set forth the acts of hostility
on the part of Great Britain, and showed that the Ministry

140 THE STORY OF THE REVOLUTION
were trying to subdue them by force, which the Ministry
certainly would not have denied. They declared that they
preferred armed resistance to the unconditional submission
which England demanded, and at the same time they pro
tested that they were not fighting for "the desperate meas
ure of independence," but only to defend themselves from
unprovoked attack. Their statement was plain and truth
ful, and they honestly represented the public reluctance to
seek independence. It would have been well if England
had heeded it, but, unluckily, England was committed to
another policy and this was all too late. The declaration,
as it stood, under existing conditions meant war, and they
should have followed it up by straining every nerve in
earnest preparation. Some of the members, like John
Adams and Franklin, knew what it all meant well enough,
but Congress would not so interpret it. Instead of ac
tively going to work to make an effective government and
take all steps needful for the energetic prosecution of the
war, they adopted a second petition to the King, which
was drafted by Dickinson. The contradictions in which
they were involved came out sharply even in this last effort
of loyalty. They proposed a truce and a negotiation to
the King, who had declined to recognize Congress at all,
and the King was quite right in his refusal if he intended
to fight, as he undoubtedly did. Congress was union, and
union was practical independence. How then could the
King treat with a body which by its very existence meant
a new nation ? Yet this was precisely what Congress
asked as the nearest way to peace and reconciliation.
There could be no result to such a measure as this, unless
England was ready to yield, and if she was, the difficulty
would settle itself quickly and without argument. They

INDEPENDENCE 141
also adopted another address to the English people, a
strong and even pathetic appeal to race feeling and com
munity of thought and speech, and, at the same time, they
sent thanks to the Mayor and Aldermen of London for
their sympathy. They intrusted the petition to the King
to Richard Penn, and felt strong hopes of success, because
of their concessions in regard to trade. They would not
confess even to themselves that the differences with the
mother-country had now reached the point where the ques
tion was the very simple one, whether the people of the
colonies were to govern America or the English King
and Parliament. There was no lack of men who under
stood all this perfectly, but they were not yet in control,
perhaps were not ready to be, and Congress would not
admit that the case was hopeless and that the stage had
been reached where compromises were no longer possible.
Even while they hoped and petitioned and reasoned, the
relentless facts were upon them. Armies could not wait
while eloquent pleadings and able arguments were passing
slowly across the Atlantic. Washington wrote from Cam
bridge that the army was undisciplined and short in num
bers ; that there were too many officers, and not enough
men ; that he needed at once tents, clothing, hospitals,
engineers, arms of every kind, and above all gunpowder,
and that he had no money. From Schuyler at Ticon
deroga came the same demands and the same report. Con
gress had to hear their letters, and could not avoid know
ing the facts. How were they to satisfy these wants, how
deal with these harsh facts and yet not interfere with peti
tions to the King ? A question not easy to answer, for it is
never easy to reconcile two conflicting policies, and still
worse to try to carry both into effect. The result was that

142 THE STORY OF THE REVOLUTION
the army suffered because that was the only direction in
which anything substantial could really be done, all peti
tioning having become by this time quite futile. It is true
that Washington was authorized to have an army of twenty-
two thousand men, but no means were given him to get
them. Five thousand men were also authorized for Can
ada, and nothing was done toward getting them either. To
make matters still worse, no enlistments were to be made
for a time longer than that in which they could hear from
the King, who was diligently gathering together fleets and
armies to send against them. They organized a post-office,
which was desirable, but not an engine of war ; they also
organized a hospital service, which was very desirable, but
not aggressive ; they issued more bills of credit, and de
cided that they should be apportioned according to popu
lation, and they failed to open their ports to other nations,
their only resource for munitions of war, and renewed their
non-exportation agreements. Franklin, looking out on
this welter of contradictions and confusions, and seeing
very plainly the facts in the case, offered a plan for a con
federate government so as to provide machinery for what
they were trying to do. It was a wise and statesmanlike
measure in principle, and was laid aside. John Adams
wrote indignant letters declaring that they should be at
work founding and defending an empire instead of argu
ing and waiting. These letters were intercepted and pub
lished by the party of the Crown in order to break down
Adams and the radicals, which shows, in a flash of light,
what public opinion was believed to be at that moment
in the great middle colonies. Whether the loyalists
gauged public opinion correctly or not, Congress agreed
with them and allowed everything to drift. Yet, at the

INDEPENDENCE 143
same time, they decisively rejected Lord North's pro
posals. They would not accept the British advances or
even consider them, the King would not deal with them,
and yet with all this staring them in the face they still
declined to sustain the army or frame a government.
They could not bear the idea of separation, the breaking
of the bonds of race and kindred, the overthrow of all
habits and customs to which human nature clings so tena
ciously. It was all very natural, but it was very bad for
the American Revolution, and caused many disasters by
keeping us unprepared as long as possible, and also by
fostering the belief in the minds of the people that all
would yet come right and go on as before. Men are slow
to understand the presence of a new force and the coming
of a great change. They are still slower to admit it when
they do know it, but meantime the movement goes on and
in due time takes its revenge for a failure to recognize it.
Thus Congress, faithfully reflecting the wishes and the
doubts of a majority of the people, failed to do anything,
where alone they could have been effective, tried nobly
and manfully to do something where nothing could be
done, hesitated on the brink of the inevitable, and finally
adjourned on August 1st leaving the country for the mo
ment without any central government whatever. At the
same time they left Washington with his army and the
Canadian expedition and the siege of Boston on his hands,
and nothing to turn to for support but the governments
of the different colonies. Congress is not to be blamed
too severely for all this, for they merely reflected the hesi
tation and haltings of a time when all was doubt. But
their failure to act and their adjournment without leaving
any executive officer to represent them, bring out, in strong

144 THE STORY OF THE REVOLUTION
relief, the difficulties which beset Washington, who with
his army alone represented the American Revolution and
the popular force, as he was destined to do on many other
occasions and in much darker hours. It is well also to
note that despite the inaction and departure of Congress
the work of war was done in some fashion, the siege
of Boston pushed, and the expedition to Canada set in
motion. The weeks of adjournment went by. Congress should
have reassembled on September 5th, but a week elapsed
before enough members were present to do business, an
instance of unpunctuality which was ominous in a body
that had undertaken executive functions. Helplessness
was still supreme. John Adams, of the intercepted letters,
was cut in the street by the excellent and patriotic Dickin
son, to whom he had referred in those letters as a "pid
dling genius." All the New England members, indeed,
were regarded with suspicion by the great central colonies,
but were sustained by the South. Hence much ill-feeling
and animosity became apparent between the two parties,
but the party with hope for peace was still in the ascend
ant, still holding a majority which was weakening every
day and yet shrinking from the inevitable, after the fashion
of human nature under such trying conditions. Out of
such a situation little positive action could come, and the
time was wasted in much vain debate. Would they send
an expedition to Detroit ? A wise scheme but, after much
talk, rejected. England was prohibiting our fisheries and
restricting the trade of Southern colonies. It was obvious
that we should open our ports to the world. Nothing was
done. Then came long discussions about expeditions, the
boundary line of Pennsylvania, the rights of Connecticut

INDEPENDENCE 145
in Wyoming, and the enlistment of negroes, this last de
cided in the affirmative despite Southern remonstrance.
Meantime war was in progress as well as debate, and war
could not be postponed. Washington, observing that Eng
land was replying to Bunker Hill with increased arma
ments and paying no heed to petitions, had no doubt as
to the realities of the situation. Independence was the
only thing possible now that fighting had begun, and to
fail to say what was meant was simply ruinous. Moreover,
his army was about to disappear, for terms of enlistment had
expired, and he had no means to get a new one. Without
an army a siege of Boston was plainly impossible, and so
there came a letter to Congress from their commander-in-
chief which roused the members from their debates. Here
was a voice to which they must listen, and a condition of
affairs which they must face. They accordingly appointed
a committee, consisting of Franklin, Lynch, and Harrison,
to visit the camp. Three men, when one of them was
Franklin, made a better executive than the country had
yet had, and the result was soon apparent. On October
15th the committee reached the camp, where Franklin,
who understood the facts, had no difficulty in arranging
matters with Washington. A scheme was agreed upon
for a new army of twenty-three thousand men, and power
given the general to enlist them. The Congress gave its
assent, the four New England colonies were to furnish the
men and the money, and Washington was to get the work
done. Meantime the Congress itself was going on with its
debates and hesitations. One day Rhode Island demanded
a navy, and after much struggle vessels were authorized.
Then came the cold fit again. Nothing must be done to
irritate England or spoil the chances of the petition, so
Vol. I. — 10

146 THE STORY OF THE REVOLUTION
no prize courts were established, no ports were opened,
and New Hampshire, when everything depended upon
New England, was kept waiting a month for authority to
establish an independent government.
Yet under all the doubtings and delays the forces
were moving forward. The pressure for decisive action
increased steadily, the logic of independence became con
stantly more relentless, more unavoidable. Washington
and the army were clearly for independence, and they were
now a power no longer to be disregarded. One colony
after another was setting up a government for itself, and
as each one became independent, the absurdity of the cen
tral government holding back while each of the several
parts moved forward was strongly manifested. New
England had broken away entirely. The Southern col
onies, led by Virginia and mismanaged by their governors,
wTere going rapidly in the same direction. The resistance
still came from the middle colonies, naturally more con
servative, restrained, except in New York, by loyal gov
ernors, who, like William Franklin in New Jersey, were at
once politic and judicious. Pennsylvania, clinging to her
mild proprietary government of Quakers and Germans,
held back more resolutely than any other and sustained
John Dickinson in his policy of inaction.
But the party of delay constantly grew weaker. The
news from England was an argument for independence
that could not well be met. Richard Penn, the bearer of
the olive-branch, could not even present his petition, for
the King would not see him. Chatham and Camden
might oppose, other Englishmen, studying the accounts
of Bunker Hill, might doubt, but the King had no mis
givings. George meant to be a king, and the idea of

WASHINGTON SHOWING THE CAMP AT CAMBRIDGE ir0 THF COMMITTEE, CONSISTING OF FRANKLIN, LYNCH, AND
HARRISON, APPOINTED BY CONGRESS.

INDEPENDENCE 149
resistance to his wishes was intolerable to him. It was
something to be crushed, not reasoned with. So he issued
a proclamation declaring the Americans rebels and trait
ors, who were to be put down and punished. To carry
out his plans, ships, expeditions, and armaments were
prepared, and the King, in order to get men, sent his
agents over Europe to buy soldiers from the wretched
German princelings who lived by selling their subjects,
or from anyone else who was ready to traffic in flesh and
blood. It was not a pretty transaction nor over-creditable
to a great fighting people like the English, but it unques
tionably meant business. It was not easy to go on arguing
for reconciliation when the King shut the door on the
petitioners and denounced them as traitors, while he busied
himself in hiring mercenaries to put them down by force.
Under these conditions the friends of Independence urged
their cause more boldly, and the majority turned to their
side, but now they waited until they could obtain una
nimity, which was in truth something worth getting. The
change in the opinion of Congress was shown plainly by
the change in their measures. They applauded the vic
tories of Montgomery, they took steps to import arms and
gunpowder, and to export provisions to pay for them ;
they adopted a code for the navy, approved Washington's
capture of vessels, and issued three million dollars in bills
of credit. Most important of all, they appointed a com
mittee on Foreign Relations, the first step toward getting
alliances and aid from other nations. These were genuine
war measures, and it was a great advance for Congress to
have reached the point of recognizing that war measures
were proper in order to carry on a war. They were so
filled, indeed, with new-born zeal that, after having held

ISO

THE STORY OF THE REVOLUTION

Washington back and crippled him by delays and by lack of
support, they proceeded to demand the impossible and urge
by solemn resolution that Boston be taken at once, even
if the town were destroyed. This was a good deal better
than being left without any government at all, but we can
imagine how trying it must have been to the silent soldier
who had been laboring for months to take Boston, and

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INDEPENDENCE HALL, PHILADELPHIA, CHESTNUT STREET FRONT.

who now answered Congress in a conclusive and severe
manner which did them much good.
Far stronger in its effect on Congress than the action
of the King, or even the demands of the army, was the
change in public sentiment, which was the result of many
causes. From the time of the Stamp Act to the day of
Lexington the American party in the colonies had steadily

INDEPENDENCE 151
declared, with great fervor and entire honesty, that they
had no thought of independence, which meant separation
from the empire. They protested even with anger that
the charge that they aimed at any such result was the
invention of their enemies and made to injure their
cause. When the first Congress assembled this was the
universal feeling, and Washington was but one of many
who asserted it strongly. Here and there was a man
like Samuel Adams, radical by nature, and very keen of
perception, who saw the set of the tide ; but even these
men said nothing and agreed to the views held by the
vast majority. The change started at Lexington. When
fighting had once begun, no other outcome but separa
tion or complete subjection was possible. To carry their
point by defeating the troops of Great Britain and yet
remain an integral part of the empire was out of the
question. At the distance of more than a century we
see this very plainly, but it was not so easily understood
at the time. Washington grasped it at once, and when
he took command of the army he knew that the only issue
must be a complete victory for one side or the other, but
Congress, still working along the old lines of reconciliation
and peace, could not see it as he did, and hence their hesi
tations. They still thought that they could defeat the
King's armies and remain subjects of the King. Every
day that passed, however, made the impossibility of this
attitude more apparent. Every ship that came from Eng
land brought news which stamped this idea of peace and
union as false, and each colony that set up a government
for itself gave the lie to such a proposition.
Outside of Congress there was constant discussion
going on by which public opinion was formed. At the

152 THE STORY OF THE REVOLUTION
outset the loyalists had many able writers, chiefly clergy
men of the Anglican Church, who opposed the arguments
so vigorously urged in support of the American claims.
The writers on the American side, however, not only pos
sessed abundant ability but events were with them. Dick
inson, in the " Farmer's Letters," before he became con
servative ; Alexander Hamilton, in his replies to Samuel
Seabury, an Episcopal clergyman and author of the able
letters of the Westchester Farmer ; John Adams, and
many lesser men had done much in shaping public senti
ment. The satirists and the versemen were generally on
the American side, and they reached the people through
their humor, wit, and fancy. Some of them, like Hop-
kinson, Freneau, and Trumbull, were clever men, who
often wrote brilliantly and always well, and their excellent
verses, full of pith and point, went everywhere and con
verted many a reader who had been deaf to the learned
constitutional and political arguments which poured from
the press. Newspapers were not as yet a power. It
was through pamphlets that the printed debate before the
people was conducted, and it was well and amply per
formed on both sides.
The same change which is apparent in Congress is
apparent also in the literature * of this crucial time. As
events hurried on, supplying arguments for the American
side and forcing the American party from mere legal op
position to war, separation, and independence, the tone of

* In all I have to say about the literature of the time I desire to express my obliga
tion in the fullest measure to Professor Tyler's admirable History of the Literature of
the Revolution. This is particularly the case in regard to the chapter on the Declara
tion of Independence from the literary point of view, which is not only admirable but
conclusive.

INDEPENDENCE 153
the loyalist writers gets lower, and many of them left or
were forced to leave the country. On the other hand,
the American writers grew constantly more vigorous and
more triumphant, and demanded stronger measures. Thus
public opinion, rapidly changing in tone in the winter of
1 775-76, needed but the right man speaking the right word
to send it irresistibly along the new path. It was just at
this moment that John Trumbull published his satire of
McFingal, and the sharp hits and pungent humor of the
poem caught the public ear and helped to spur on the lag
gards in the American cause. But a mightier voice was
needed than this, and it, too, came at the beginning of this
new and fateful year of 1776. It gave utterance to the
popular feeling, it put into words what the average man
was thinking and could not express for himself, and it did
this with a force and energy which arrested attention in
America, and travelling across seas, made men over there
listen too. This voice crying aloud to such purpose was
not that of an American but an Englishman. The writer
was Thomas Paine, staymaker, privateersman, exciseman,
teacher, adventurer, and his pamphlet was called " Com
mon Sense." Paine, after a checkered career both in do
mestic and official life, had come over to America with no
capital but a letter of introduction from Franklin. He got
a start in writing for the newspapers and threw himself
into the life about him. He came a friend to the English
connection. Then looking about him with eyes undimmed
and with mind unhampered by colonial habits, he reached
the conclusion in the course of a year that independence
was not merely right but the only thing possible. So with
but little literary experience he sat him down and wrote
his pamphlet. He first argued about kingship and natural

154 THE STORY OF THE REVOLUTION
rights, and then in favor of independence. Critics have
said of that first part that it was crude, unreasoned, and
full of blunders, for Paine was not learned. Yet in that
same first part he enunciated the great principle which
lay at the bottom of the whole business, which James Otis
had put forward years before, that in the nature of things
there was no reason for kings, and every reason why people
should rule themselves. And this was just what this
quarrel had come to, so that it needed no learning but
only courage and common sense to set it forth. As for
the second part, which concerned the practical question
always of most interest to men, Paine knew his subject
thoroughly and he argued the cause of independence in
a bold, convincing, indeed unanswerable, fashion. - He
put forth his argument in a strong, effective style, roughly,
plainly, so that all stopped to listen and all understood.
His pamphlet went far and wide with magical rapidity.
It appeared in every form, and was reprinted and sold in
every colony and town of the Atlantic seaboard. Pres
ently it crossed the ocean, was translated into French, and
touched with unshrinking hand certain chords in the Old
World long silent but now beginning to quiver into life.
In the colonies alone it is said that one hundred and
twenty thousand copies were sold in three months. This
means that almost every American able to read, had read
" Common Sense." Its effect was prodigious, yet with all
its merits it is a mistake to glorify it as having convinced
the people that they must have independence. The con
victions were there already, made slowly by events, by
the long discussion, by the English policy, by the fighting
around Boston. " Common Sense " may have converted
many doubters, but it did something really far more im-

INDEPENDENCE

155

portant; it gave utterance to the dumb thoughts of the
people ; it set forth to the world, with nervous energy,
convictions already formed ; it supplied every man with
the words and the arguments to explain and defend the
faith that was in him. Many Americans were thinking
what " Common Sense " said with so much power. So
the pamphlet marked an epoch, was a very memorable
production, and from
the time of its publica
tion the tide slowly set
ting in the direction of
independence began to
race, with devouring
swiftness, to the high-
water mark.
As the winter wore
away and spring began,
Congress, still lingering
behind the people, con
tinued to adopt war
like measures but did
nothing for independ
ence. The central col
onies still hung back,
although the movement for independent provincial gov
ernments went on unchecked, and the action in that
direction of each separate colony brought nearer like
action on the part of the continent. The rising of the
Highlanders in the valley of the Mohawk under Sir
John Johnson, easily crushed by Schuyler ; a similar ris
ing of the Highlanders in North Carolina, defeated in
a sharp fight by the Minute Men under Caswell ; the

THOMAS PAINE.
Frompaintitig by C. IV. Peale, 1783.

156 THE STORY OF THE REVOLUTION
evacuation of Boston, all drove events forward and forced
the hands of Congress. The measures of Congress stiff
ened. More men and more money were voted, the
country was divided into military departments, and Silas
Deane was appointed an agent to France. Still they
shrank from facing what they knew must be faced, but
the friends of independence could no longer be kept silent.
Even if Pennsylvania, not without great effort, was kept
true to Dickinson and peace, the other colonies were com
ing into line, and the American party, virtually led by
John Adams, began to argue for independence on almost
every debate which sprang up. In some way the real issue
appeared on every occasion, and the efforts to avoid it, or
to pretend that it was not there, grew fainter and fainter.
On May ioth John Adams carried his resolution to in
struct all the colonies that had not yet done so to set up
independent governments, a heavy blow to the Pennsyl
vania peace party and a long step toward national inde
pendence. In the same month the Virginia convention,
which established the State government, instructed the
delegates in Congress to urge and support independence.
With this decision from the oldest and most powerful
colony, backed as it was by Massachusetts and New Eng
land, the final conflict in Congress could no longer be post
poned. The American party was in the ascendant, and
with the instructions from Virginia would wait no longer.
The other colonies, even those in the centre, were now
all in line, or fast coming there, and Congress could not
hesitate further. On June 8th Richard Henry Lee, in
the name of Virginia, moved that the colonies wTere, and
of right ought to be, free and independent, and that their
allegiance to the British Crown ought to be dissolved.

INDEPENDENCE

157

For two days the question was earnestly debated, and
then it was decided, although the resolution clearly had a
majority, to postpone the debate for three weeks, during
which time plans were to be prepared for a confederation
and for treaties with foreign powers, and the members
were to have opportunity to consult their constituents, so
that the great act, if possible, might be adopted with
unanimity. To avoid any delay a committee was appointed
to draft a declaration to accompany the resolution for
independence. This committee
consisted of Jefferson, John
Adams, Franklin, Roger Sher
man, and Robert Livingston,
and to Jefferson was intrusted
the work of preparing the draft.
The three weeks slipped rap
idly by. Congress heard from
its constituents, and there was no
mistaking what they said. New
England and the South were al
ready for independence. New
York, menaced on the north by
savages and on the south by the speedy coming of a
powerful English fleet, wheeled into line. Maryland and
Delaware joined readily and easily. New Jersey called
a State convention to establish a State government,
arrested their royal Governor, William Franklin, and elect
ed five stanch friends of independence to Congress. Even
Pennsylvania, after long debates and many misgivings,
agreed to sustain Congress if it voted for independence.
All was ready for action when Congress met on July
1 st. There were fifty members present, and they were

ROGER SHERMAN.
From the painting by Ralph Earle, 1787.

158 THE STORY OF THE REVOLUTION
the best and ablest men America could produce. It was
the zenith of the Continental Congress. However through
inevitable causes it afterward weakened, however ill suited
it was by its constitution for executive functions, it now
faced the task for which it was perfectly fitted. No wiser
or more patriotic body of men ever met a revolutionary
crisis or took the fate of a nation in their hands with a
deeper and finer sense of the heavy responsibility rest
ing upon them. All that they did was grave and serious.
They faced the great duty before them calmly, but with a
profound sense of all that it meant.
A letter from Washington was read showing how
small his army was and how badly armed. A despatch
from Lee announced the arrival of the British fleet and
army at Charleston. Unmoved and firm, Congress passed
to the order of the day and went into committee of the
whole to consider the resolution "respecting independ
ence." The mover, Richard Henry Lee, was absent at
the Virginia convention. There was a pause, and then
John Adams arose and made the great speech which
caused Jefferson to call him the Colossus of Debate, and
which, unreported as it was, lives in tradition as one of
the memorable feats of oratory. With all the pent-up feel
ing gathered through the years when he was looked on
with suspicion and distrust, with all the fervor of an earn
est nature and of burning conviction, he poured forth the
arguments which he had thought of for months, and which
sprang from his lips full-armed. There was no need of
further speech on that side after this great outburst, but
Dickinson defended the position he had long held, and
others entered into the discussion. When the vote was
taken, New York, favoring independence, but still with-

INDEPENDENCE

159

out absolute instructions, refused to vote. South Caro
lina, instructed but still hesitating, voted with Pennsyl
vania in the negative. The other nine colonies voted for
independence. Then the committee rose, and on the
request of South Carolina the final vote was postponed
until the next day.
When they met on July 2d they listened to another
letter from Washington, telling them that Howe, with
some fifty ships carrying troops, had appeared off Sandy
Hook. There was no quiver in the letter ; he hoped for
reinforcements, but he was ready to face the great odds,
weak as he was. No news came from Charleston, which
might have been falling before the British fire even as
they talked. The enemy was at the gates, but there was
no wavering and their cour
age rose under the dangers
upon them. With inde
pendence declared, they
would have a cause to fight
for. Without it they were
beating the air. So they
went to a vote. New York
was, as before, for inde
pendence, but still unable
to vote. South Carolina,
knowing only that her cap
ital was in danger, and still
in ignorance that the bat
tle had been won, voted
for independence. Delaware was no longer divided, and
Pennsylvania, by the intentional absence of Dickinson
and Morris, was free to vote with the rest. So twelve

ROBERT MORRIS.
From a painting by Edward Savage, 17QO.

160 THE STORY OF THE REVOLUTION
colonies voted unanimously for independence, thirteen
agreed to it, and the resolution passed. Henceforth there
were to be no colonies from Maine to Florida ; a nation
was born and stood up to prove its right to live. The
great step had been taken. It now remained to set forth
to the world the reasons for what had been done there in
Philadelphia on July 2, 1776.
Thomas Jefferson, to whom this momentous work had
been intrusted, came a young man to Congress, preceded
by a decided reputation as a man of ability and a vigorous
and felicitous writer. His engaging manners and obvi
ously great talents secured to him immediately the regard
and affection of his fellow-members. He was at once
placed on a committee to draft the declaration of the
reasons for taking up arms, and then on one to reply to
the propositions of Lord North. So well did he do his
part, and so much did he impress his associates, that
when the resolution for independence was referred, he was
chosen to stand at the head of the committee and to him
was intrusted the work of drafting the Declaration. No
happier choice could have been made. It was in its way
as wise and fortunate as the selection of Washington to
lead the armies. This was not because Jefferson was the
ablest man in the Congress. In intellectual power and
brilliancy Franklin surpassed him and John Adams, who,
like Franklin, was on the committee, was a stronger
character, a better lawyer, and a much more learned man.
But for this particular work, so momentous to America,
Jefferson was better adapted than any other of the able
men who separated America from England. He was,
above all things, the child of his time. He had the eager,
open mind, the robust optimism, the desire for change so

Illlllllllllllllllllllllllliillllllllllllilllllll THOMAS JEFFERSON.
From the painting by Charles Willson Peale, 1791.

INDEPENDENCE

163

characteristic of those memorable years with which the
eighteenth century closed. Instead of fearing innovation,
he welcomed it as a good in itself, and novelty always
appealed to him, whether it appeared in the form of a
plough or a government. He was in full and utter sym
pathy with his time and with the great forces then begin-

VIEW OF INDEPENDENCE HALL FROM THE PARK SIDE.

ning to stir into life. Others might act from convictions
on the question of taxation ; others still because they felt
that separation from England was the only way to save
their liberty ; but to Jefferson independence had come to
mean the right of the people to rule. He had learned
rapidly in the stirring times through which he had passed.
The old habits of thought and customs of politics had

1 64

THE STORY OF THE REVOLUTION

dropped away from him, and he was filled with the spirit
of democracy, that new spirit which a few years later
was to convulse Europe. Compared with the men about
him, Jefferson was an extremist and a radical, more ex
treme in his theories than they guessed, or perhaps than

STAIR WA Y IN INDEPENDENCE HALL.

even he himself conceived. Compared with the men of
the French Revolution he was an ultraconservative, and
yet the spirit which moved them all was the same. He
believed, as they believed, that the right to rule lay with
the whole people and not with one man or with a selected
class. When he sat down to write the Declaration of
Independence it was the spirit of the age, the faith in

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From an artotype by E. Eierstadt of the original in tlie Department of State, at Washington, D. C.

INDEPENDENCE

167

the future, and in a larger liberty for mankind which fired
his brain and guided his pen.
The result was the Declaration of Independence. The
draft was submitted to Franklin and Adams, who made
a few slight changes. The influence of the South struck
out the paragraph against slavery. It was read on July
3d. A debate ensued in which John Adams led as in
that on the resolution, and on July 4th the Congress
agreed to the Declaration and authorized the President

ROOM IN INDEPENDENCE HALL IN WHICH THE DECLARATION WAS
SIGNED.

and Secretary to sign, attest, and publish it. The formal
signing by the members did not take place until August,
and some signatures were given even later. But the July
4th when the Declaration was adopted by Congress was

168 THE STORY OF THE REVOLUTION
the day which the American people have set apart and
held sacred to the memory of a great deed.
The Declaration when published was read to the army
under Washington and received by the soldiers with con
tent. It was a satisfaction to them to have the reality
for which they were fighting put into words and officially
declared. It was read also formally and with some cere
mony in public places, in all the chief towns of the colo
nies, and was received by the people cordially and heartily,
but without excitement. There was no reason why it
should have called forth much feeling, for it merelv em-
bodied public opinion already made up, and was expected
by the loyalist minority. Yet despite its general accept
ance, which showed its political strength, it was a great
and memorable document. From that day to this it has
been listened to with reverence by a people who have
grown to be a great nation, and equally from that day
to this it has been the subject of severe criticism. The
reverence is right, the criticism misplaced and founded on
misunderstanding. The Declaration is divided into two parts : First, the
statement of certain general principles of the rights of men
and peoples, and, secondly, an attack on George III. as a
tyrant, setting forth, in a series of propositions, the wrongs
done by him to the Americans which justified them in
rebellion. Criticism has been directed first aarainst the
attack on the King, then to the originality of the doctrines
enunciated, then against the statement of the rights of
man, Jefferson's "self-evident truths," and finally against
the style.
The last criticism is easily disposed of. Year after
year, for more than a century, the Declaration of Inde-

READING THE DECLARATION OF INDEPENDENCE TO THE TROOPS IN NEW YORK,
ASSEMBLED ON THE COMMON, NOW CITY HALL PARK, OLD ST. PAULS IN THE BACK
GROUND.

INDEPENDENCE 171
pendence has been solemnly read in every city, town, and
hamlet of the United States to thousands of Americans
who have heard it over and over again, and who listen to
it in reverent silence and rejoice that it is theirs to read.
If it had been badly written, the most robust patriotism
would be incapable of this habit. False rhetoric or turgid
sentences would have been their own death-warrant, and
the pervading American sense of humor would have seen
to its execution. The mere fact that Jefferson's words
have stood successfully this endless repetition is infallible
proof that the Declaration has the true and high literary
quality which alone could have preserved through such
trials its impressiveness" and its savor. To those who will
study the Declaration carefully from the literary side, it is
soon apparent that the English is fine, the tone noble and
dignified, and the style strong, clear, and imposing.

5^iS) £3^/$^93£€i

y^%^d^^y^

FROM THE RESOLUTIONS ADOPTED BY CONGRESS, JULY 5, 1776.
Facsimile of a part of t lie original draft belonging to the Emmet collection in the Lenox Library.

172 THE STORY OF THE REVOLUTION
Passing from the form to the substance, critics as far
apart as John Adams and Lord John Russell have con
demned the attack on George III. and the charge that
he was a tyrant as unjust, bitter, and almost absurd. Yet,
as the years have gone by, it has become very plain that
George III. was really making a final and very serious
attempt to restore the royal authority, and was seeking
by shrewder and more insidious methods to regain what
Charles I. had lost. He was steadily following out his
mother's behest and trying to be a king. If the revolt
had not come in America it would have come in England,
and England would have defeated his plans and broken
his power as his American colonies succeeded in doing.
When the best of modern English historians, like Lecky
and Green, admit this in regard to George III., we need
not question that Jefferson's instinct was a true one when
he drew the indictment of his sovereign. But Jefferson
was right on broader grounds than this. He was declar
ing something much more far-reaching than the right of
the colonies to separate from England. He was announc
ing to the world the right of the people to rule themselves,
and that no one man was entitled to be king, but that
every man had a title to kingship in virtue of his man
hood. The logical step from this proposition was not to
assail the people or Parliament of England, which would
have been a contradiction of his own argument, but the
man who represented the old-time theory of kingship and
from whom as part of a system the evils he complained
of came. Jefferson was instinctively right when he struck
at the kingly power, for that was the real point of conflict.
John Adams's criticism that the doctrines and princi
ples set forth were not new, but had been heard before

TEARING DOWN THE LEADEN STATUE OF GEORGE III., ON BOWLING
GREEN, NEW YORK, TO CELEBRATE THE SIGNING OF THE DECLARATION
OF INDEPENDENCE. The lead-was later moulded into bulletsfor the American Army.

INDEPENDENCE 175
from James Otis down through all the long controversy,
was simply inept. The doctrines and principles, of course,
were not new. That was their strength. Jefferson was not
a Frenchman bursting suddenly through the tyranny of cen
turies, to whom the language of freedom and of constitu
tional liberty was an unknown tongue. He was one of
that great race which for five hundred years, from Magna
Charta to the Declaration of Independence, from Runny-
mede to Philadelphia, had been slowly, painfully, and very
strenuously building up a fabric of personal liberty and
free government. In all those long discussions, in all
those bitter struggles, the words and principles of freedom
and human rights had been developed and made familiar.
This was the language which Jefferson spoke. Its glory
was that it was not new, and that the people to whom he
spoke understood it, and all it meant, because it was a part
of their inheritance, like their mother-tongue. In vivid
phrases he set forth what his people felt, knew, and wanted
said. It was part of his genius that he did so. He was
not a man of action, but a man of imagination, of ideas
and sympathies. He was a failure as the war Governor
of Virginia. The greatest and most adroit of politicians
and organizers, when dangers from abroad threatened him
as President, he was timid, hesitating, and inadequate.
But when he was summoned to declare the purposes of
the American people in the face of the world and at the
bar of history, he came to the work which no other man
could have done so well. His imagination ; his keen,
sure glance into the future ; his intense human sympathies
came into full play, and he spoke his message so that it
went home to the hearts of his people with an unerring
flight.

176 THE STORY OF THE REVOLUTION
The last and best-known criticism is the bold epigram
of Rufus Choate, most brilliant of American advocates,
that the Declaration of Independence is made up of
'"glittering generalities." Again the criticism proceeds
on a misunderstanding. The Declaration of Independ
ence in its famous opening sentences is made up of- gen
eralities, and rightly. That they glitter is proof of the
writer's skill and judgment. It was not the place for
careful argument and solid reasoning. Jefferson was set
ting forth the reasons for a revolution, asserting a great,
new principle, for which men were to be asked to die.
His task was to make it all as simple, yet as splendid as
possible. He was to tell men that they must separate
from the great empire of England and govern themselves,
and he must do it in such a way that he who ran might
not only read, but comprehend. It is the glory of Jeffer
son that he did just this, and it was no fault of his that
the South dimmed one of his glowing sentences by strik
ing out his condemnation of human slavery.
In the Declaration of Independence Jefferson uttered,
in a noble and enduring manner, what was stirring in the
hearts "of his people. The "Marseillaise" is not great
poetry, nor the air to which it was set the greatest music.
But no one can hear that song and not feel his pulses
beat quicker and his blood course more swiftly through
his veins. It is because the author of it flung into his
lyric the spirit of a great time, and the dreams and aspira
tions of a great people. Hope, faith, patriotism, victory,
all cry out to us in that mighty hymn of the Revolution,
and no one can listen to it unmoved. In more sober fash
ion, after the manner of his race, Jefferson declared the
hopes, beliefs, and aspirations of the American people.

THOMAS JEFFERSON WRITING THE DECLARATION OF INDEPENDENCE.

INDEPENDENCE 179
But the spirit of the time is there in every line and every
sentence, saying to all men ; a people has risen up in the
West, they are weary of kings, they can rule themselves,
they will tear down the old landmarks, they will let loose
a new force upon the world, and with the wilderness and
the savage at their backs they will even do battle for the
faith that is in them.

CHAPTER VIII
THE FIGHT FOR THE HUDSON
WHILE Congress was coming to a decision upon
the great question of Independence, the war
vvas entering upon its second stage, and, as it
proved, that in wThich the American Revolution narrowly
escaped shipwreck. When the British undertook to co
erce the colonies by force, they expected little resistance.
They did not measure at all the task before them, and
they were, therefore, taken by surprise when the people
rose up and sprang upon them. The British governors
were expelled one after another without any serious con
flict, and the colonies passed rapidly and easily to the con
dition of independent States. The political management
of the king and his ministers was so clumsy that a firm
union of all the colonies was formed before their very
eyes, and this one absolutely essential condition of Amer
ican success was made sure at an early day. In a military
way they had fared no better. Their ill-considered raid
on Concord had resulted in a disorderly retreat. Their
victory at Bunker Hill had been purchased at an enor
mous sacrifice of life, and had only served to encourage
the Americans. They had been compelled, by the superior
generalship of Washington, to evacuate Boston, and their
blundering attack on Charleston had been repelled with
1 80

THE FIGHT FOR TFIE HUDSON 181
loss and humiliation. All the solid advantages, both mili
tary and political, during the first year of revolution, had
been wholly on the side of the Americans. This was due
to the wilful ignorance of the English as to their oppo
nents, whom they despised, and who for this reason took
them unawares and defeated them, and to the further fact
that a people in arms was a new force of great power,
upon which neither they nor anyone else had calculated.
These conditions could not, in the nature of things,
endure. The British, recovering from their surprise, pro
ceeded to make arrangements for conquering their revolted
provinces in a manner commensurate to the work before
them, the seriousness of which they had so entirely under
estimated. George III., who took a deep personal inter
est in the war, which, consciously or unconsciously, he felt
to be the test of his schemes and the trial of his power,
set his agents running over Europe to buy soldiers from
anybody who had men to sell.
His first effort was in Russia. Gunning, the English
Minister, interpreted some flowery compliments and sound
ing protestations of friendship to mean that Catherine
would give England twenty thousand soldiers to put
down the rebellious colonies. When the demand was
actually made, there were more fine words, much talk
and much evasion, but it finally appeared that Catherine
had no notion of giving any troops at all, and the end
was a refusal. Hence, much disappointment in England,
where the Russian soldiers were confidently expected.
George fared no better in Holland when he asked for the
Scotch Brigade. The Prince of Orange was sufficiently
ready, but the States-General hesitated, and the only result
was a polite offer to let England have the brigade provided

182 THE STORY OF THE REVOLUTION
they should not be called upon to serve out of Europe,
which was equivalent to a refusal. Among the little states
of Germany, George had better luck. Some of the petty
princes offered troops voluntarily, and in others he had no
difficulty in making a bargain. The wretched grand dukes,
electors, princes, and other serene persons exacted a heavy
price for the men whom they sold, but still England got
the men, and in large numbers, especially from Brunswick
and Hesse Cassel. Frederick of Prussia, on the other
hand, as a man and a German, regarded with feelings akin
to loathing this sale of men by the lesser German princes.
At a later time he would not even permit England's mer
cenaries to cross his territory, for he had no sympathy with
George, and being not only a great man but a clear-sighted
and efficient one, he looked with contempt on English
incompetence and blundering, and predicted the success
of the colonies. Why a brave and powerful people like
the English should have bought soldiers to fight their
battles in a civil war is not easy now to understand. It
was, however, due to the general inefficiency which then
prevailed in British administration, and was a very cost
ly expedient apart from the money actually spent, for it
injured England in European opinion, encouraged and
justified the colonies in seeking foreign aid, and smoothed
the path for American diplomacy. It also spurred on the
Americans to fight harder because foreign mercenaries
were employed against them, and it embittered their feel
ings toward the mother-country. The allies obtained by
the British Ministry in Europe were, nevertheless, in the
highest degree creditable and desirable, compared to those
whom they sought and procured in America itself. That
they should have enlisted, paid, and organized regiments

THE FIGHT FOR THE HUDSON 183
of American loyalists, was proper enough, but when they
made alliances with the Indians and turned them loose on
the frontier settlements and against American armies, they
took a step which nothing could palliate or excuse. To
make allies of cruel fighting savages, and set them upon
men of their own race and blood, was something which
could not be justified and it met with its fit reward. The
Americans knew well what Indian warfare meant, and
when England sent Indians on the war-path against them,
her action roused a burning hatred which nothing could
appease. If it was the King's plan to drive the Americans
to desperation and make the retention of the colonies ab
solutely hopeless, this alliance with the Indians was the
surest way to accomplish that result. Yet without her
Hessians, Indians, and loyalists it must be admitted Eng
land would not have had even a chance, for she seemed
unable to furnish any adequate number of troops herself.
It was all part of the amazing blundering which character
ized English administration in the American Revolution,
and for which we have no explanation except in the fact
that the King was undertaking the work of government
and carefully excluded all men of the first order from his
councils. From the American point of view at that time, how
ever, these considerations, as well as the ultimate effect
of England's policy in getting allies, were by no means
apparent. All they saw was that the men had been pro
cured, and that powerful armies and fleets were coming
against them. This was what Washington was obliged
to face. It was no use discussing the morals or the policy
of buying Germans. There they were under the English
flag, and th,ey were brought to America to fight.

1 84 THE STORY OF THE REVOLUTION
Washington certainly was under no illusions. He
knew that England would make a great effort and was a
great power. He knew, too, that New York would be
the first object of British attack. It was the essential
strategic point, without which any attempt to cut off New
England from the rest of the colonies, by controlling the
line of the Hudson, would be utterly barren. Without
any delay he quitted Boston, the scene of his victory on
March 17th, and was in New York by April 13th, bring
ing with him all the troops he could gather. The outlook
there was dark enough. The city was undefended ; most
of his troops were new recruits ; there was a powerful
Tory party, and Tryon, the last British Governor, wTas
actively intriguing and conspiring with the loyalists from
his station on a man-of-war. Congress, on the other hand,
was struggling with the question of independence and
did little to aid him, while the provincial committees had
neither the experience nor as yet the determination of
those he had dealt with in New England. Nevertheless,
all that man could do was done. Defensive works were
completed or erected on Brooklyn Heights, on Manhattan,
at Kingsbridge, and along the East and Hudson Rivers.
The army was drilled and disciplined after a fashion ; the
Tory plottings were checked, and every preparation was
made which energy and ability, ill supported, could devise.
Yet the result of all these labors when the hour of
conflict approached and the British army had arrived, was
disheartening. Washington had been able to gather orfly
17,000 men. Nearly 7,000 of these were sick or on fur
lough, and he thus had fit for duty not more than 10,000
men to cover his necessarily extensive line of works.
With this small force, ill armed, inexperienced, and ill

THE FIGHT FOR THE HUDSON 185
provided, he was called upon to face and do battle with a
British army of 31,000 men now assembled on Staten Isl
and, well-disciplined regulars, thoroughly equipped and
provided, and supported by a powerful fleet to which
Washington had nothing to oppose. It seemed madness
to fight against such odds and run the risk of almost cer
tain defeat. But Washington looked beyond the present
hour and the immediate military situation. As usual,
political considerations had to be taken into account.
To give up New York without a struggle, and thus have
saved his army intact by an immediate retreat and without
fighting, however wise from a military point of view,
would have chilled and depressed the country to a peril
ous degree, and to carry on a popular war the public spirit
must be maintained. More important than this even was
the danger which Washington saw plainly far away to the
north, where Carleton was pressing down the line of the
lakes. If Sir William Howe and his army succeeded in
advancing rapidly and meeting him before winter set in, it
would mean the division of the northern colonies by the
British forces and a disaster to the Americans which
could probably never be repaired. Even the sacrifice of
an army would be better than this. So Washington de
termined to hold his ground and fight. He said that he
hoped to make a good defence, but he was not blind to
the enormous risk, to the impossibility almost, of holding
his long line of posts with so few men and with an enemy
in command of the sea. Even while he wrote cheerfully
as to holding his positions he exhibited the condition of
the army to Congress in the plainest terms, and constantly
demanded more men. But even if he had known defeat
to be certain he still had to consider the wishes of Con-

1 86

THE STORY OF THE REVOLUTION

THE BATTLE OF LONG ISLAND.
From a British map of 177(3, showing tile positions of the American and British armies. [ Tltis map contains
a few topographical errors, but in the main the disposition of the forces is correctly indicated.]
gress and the state of public opinion, and he likewise felt
that present defeat would result in a larger ultimate vic
tory, if by delay he could prevent the junction of the main
British army with the forces from the north.
Washington was unable to tell just where the attack
would come, which compelled him to spread out his
small force in order to cover so far as possible every

VllllllllllJIIIIilllllilllllillllllilllliilllliilllllillUlliiilllluilll

GENERAL NATHANIEL GREENE.
From tlte painting by Charles Willson Peale, jjSj.

THE FIGHT FOR THE HUDSON 189

point. This put him at an additional disadvantage when
the British moved, as they did on August 22c!, landing
15,000 men on Long Island, and following this up on the
25th with the German division under
Heister, with forty cannon. The
Americans had about 8,000 men, half
in the works at Brooklyn and half
outside to meet the British and de
fend the approaches. The whole po
sition was untenable in the long run
because the English controlled the

*toJ

sea, and yet New York could not be Pari 0/ Ta'""- F""din b™***
J by the So?ts of t/ee Revolution,
held at all if Brooklyn Heights were T%S»T£r"ZT "
in the hands of the enemy. It was
a choice of evils, and it is easier to point out Washing
ton's military error in trying to hold Long Island than
to say what he should have done. It was also a serious
mistake to divide the troops and leave half outside, and
to this mistake, for which the commander-in-chief was
finally responsible, was added a series of misfortunes and
small blunders. The command on Long Island had been
intrusted to General Greene, the best officer Washington
had, but just before the British landed, Greene was strick
en with a violent fever, and the command passed first to
Sullivan and then to Putnam. Both were brave men ;
neither was a soldier of great ability or a strategist, and
they were alike ignorant of the country which Greene
knew by heart. Sullivan held the outposts while Putnam
remained at Brooklyn Heights and did not come out when
the fighting began. The British fleet opened a heavy fire
on the New York works early on August 27th. Mean
time the British forces skilfully divided, and well guided

i9o THE STORY OF THE REVOLUTION
during the previous day and night, had got round to Sul
livan's rear by undefended roads. Sullivan, hemmed in
on all sides, made a vigorous effort to retreat, but it was
useless. Some of the
Americans, by desperate
fighting, broke through,
but many were captured,
including Sullivan him
self. Lord Sterling, in
command of the other
outlying American force,
fared almost as ill as Sul
livan. Attacked on both
sides, he had no line of
retreat, except across Go-
wanus Creek. His men
made a gallant stand, and
most of them succeeded
in crossing the creek, but
Sterling himself and many of his division were taken
prisoners. The Americans outflanked, outgeneralled, and
outnumbered four to one, were badly beaten in these two
actions. They lost 970 men in killed and wounded, and
1,077 captured, while the British loss was but 400.
Washington, when he heard of the British landing,
had sent six regiments to Brooklyn, and came over on the
day of the action only to witness with anguish the utter
rout of the detachments under Sullivan and Sterling.
The situation produced by this defeat was grave in the
extreme, for the troops were thoroughly demoralized by
their losses, and many of the militia actually deserted. It
looked as if the American army were doomed. But the

GENERAL ISRAEL PUTNAM.

• From a portrait by H. I. Tompson, after a pencil-sketch
from life by John Trumbull.

THE FIGHT FOR THE HUDSON

191

British delayed,
and, mindful of
Bunker Hill, in
stead of at once
assaulting the
Brooklyn in
trenchments,which alone pro
tected the shattered
American army, they
broke ground for a siege.
This gave Washington time,
and time was all he needed. He brought
over reinforcements, encouraged his men
and strengthened his works. But he did
not mean to fight there except as a last
resource, for he had no idea of stak
ing his whole army on a single ac
tion against overwhelming odds, if
he could avoid it. While the men
labored on the intrenchments, he
quietly gathered boats, and seeing
on the 29th that the British meant
to come on his rear with their fleet,
he embarked his whole army that
night and crossed successfully to
New York. It was a masterly re
treat. In the face of a strong
enemy lying within gunshot, with a hostile fleet close at
hand, he put 9,000 men into boats, ferried them across a
broad stream swept by strong tides and currents, and left
behind only a few heavy guns. The wind was light and a

BATTLE PASS, PROSPECT PARK,
BROOKLYN.
Showing a part of the battle-field.
The tablet designates the line of defence.

192

THE STORY OF THE REVOLUTION

thick mist helped to cover the movement. Washington,
in the saddle and on foot for forty-eight hours, watched
over everything, and was the last to leave. As he fol
lowed his heavily laden boats through the kindly mist and
darkness he must have felt a sense of profound relief, for
he had grasped a fortunate chance and had rescued his
army from an almost hopeless position. The American

PRESENT VIEW FROM OLD FORT PUTNAM (NOW FORT GREENE), BROOKLYN.
This fort formed a part of the defences on Long Island.
forces had been beaten in two heavy skirmishes, but the
American army had escaped. It was possible to make
the raw militia who had been defeated in their first open
action into veterans, for they lacked nothing toward becom
ing good soldiers except experience. But if the only Ameri
can army in the field had been destroyed at the very outset
of the contest, the Revolution would have been in Preat
peril. Washington's one thought Was to hold his army
together and fight as often as he could, but whatever hap-

THE RETREAT FROM LONG ISLAND.
Washington superintending the transfer of the troops across the East River.

THE FIGHT FOR THE HUDSON 195
pened, that army which he commanded must never be dis
solved. He had fought in an impossible position, been
beaten, and saved his army from the brink of destruction,
taking full advantage of the mistakes of his opponents.
Now, on Manhattan Island, he faced the enemy once
more, ready to fight again.*
Some time after the Battle of Long Island Jay wrote
that he had often thought during the previous spring that
it would be best to destroy New York, desolate all the
country about it, and withdraw up the river. This sugges
tion came from Greene at the moment, and after the retreat
from Long Island Washington took it up and submitted
it to Congress. From a military point of view the de
struction of the city was the just conception of an able
general. It sounded desperate, but it was really the wisest
thing to do. If carried out it would have forced the Brit
ish to abandon New York and the mouth of the Hudson,
it would have left them on the edge of winter without
quarters, and in the end probably would have shortened
the war. But it was too strong a measure for Congress,
and Washington was obliged to drop the idea. As the
city was clearly untenable with the forces at his command,
there was no further resource but retreat, and on Septem
ber ioth, although a majority of his officers were still loath
to abandon the town, Washington began his preparations

* The best statement in regard to the Battle of Long Island by a professional sol
dier is that of General Carrington, U. S. A., in his " Battles of the American Revolu
tion." The whole chapter should be carefully studied. I can only quote here a few
lines. General Carrington says (p. 212): "The Battle of Long Island had to be
fought. . . . The defence was doomed to be a failure from the first, independent
of the co-operation of a naval force. . Washington was wise in his purpose
' to make the acquisition as costly as possible to his adversary. ' . . The people
of the country demanded that New York should be held to the last possible moment. ''

196 THE STORY OF THE REVOLUTION
for withdrawal. While he was thus engaged, Howe, on
the 14th, repeated the Long Island manoeuvre, intending
to threaten the city in front and on the North River with
the fleet, while with his army crossing the East River and
landing on the left flank he could cut off and destroy the
American army. In accordance with his plan, LI owe, on
September 15th, landed at Kip's Bay and drove the mili
tia posted there in headlong flight. Washington hearing
the firing, rode to the landing, only to see his men fleeing
in all directions. The sight of their panic and cowardice
was too much for him. The fierce fighting spirit which
was part of his nature broke through his usually stern self-
control in a storm of rage. He rode in among the fugi
tives and made desperate efforts to rally them. He ex
posed himself recklessly to death or capture, and was
almost dragged from the field by his officers. Yet despite
this disaster he managed to get his troops together, and
although Putnam with the rear-guard had a narrow escape,
Washington finally succeeded in bringing his whole army
safely to Harlem Heights. While the victorious Howe
took possession of New York, and proceeded to look
about him, Washington intrenched himself strongly on
the Heights. He also sent out detachments under Col
onel Knowlton, the hero of the rail fence at Bunker Hill,
and Major Leitch, and attacked the British light troops
who were in an advanced position. The light troops were
defeated and forced back to the main line, but the Amer
icans, who fought well, lost both Knowlton and Leitch.
That Washington, with a demoralized army, in the midst
of disaster and retreat should have assumed the offensive
and made a successful attack, is an example of his power
and tenacity, of which many instances were yet to come.

THE FIGHT FOR THE HUDSON

197

It was this iron determination to fight at every opportunity,
whether after victory or defeat, which enabled him to con
stantly check and delay the British, and what was far more
important, turned his raw militia into an army of steady,
disciplined fighters with a blind confidence in their chief.
Howe, having considered the situation, decided that

-?,>^#^^ -
'^^i'

THE JUMEL MANSION, WASHINGTON HEIGHTS, NEW YORK CITY.
For a time Washington's Head-quarters.
the Harlem Heights were too strong for a front attack,
and set about a repetition of the flanking movements of
Long Island and Kip's Bay. His control of the water
with the fleet, and his superior numbers, enabled him to
do this with success. Washington, seeing just what was
intended, for he perfectly understood by this time the
British generals, who were not given to complicated intel
lectual operations, had no mind to be shut up on Man-

198 THE STORY OF THE REVOLUTION
hattan Island. So he occupied the passes, and when
Howe — it was now October 14th — attempted to land, he
held him back until he had withdrawn his army to the
right bank of the Bronx, holding a strong line from Ford-
ham to White Plains. After five days the British ad
vanced again, meeting Glover's brigade, who skirmished
vigorously and fell slowly back to the main army. By
the 28th the two armies were face to face, and Howe
prepared to fight a great battle and end the war. They
undertook first to turn the American left, and made a
heavy attack on Chatterton's Hill. Twice they were
repulsed and driven back with severe loss. Rahl, with
his Germans, meantime crossed the Bronx and turned
the American right, so that General McDougal was forced
to abandon Chatterton's Hill and fall back, fighting stub
bornly, to the lines at White Plains. The great and de
cisive battle failed to come off and the Americans, more
over, were learning to fight in the open. In this action
they lost one hundred and thirty killed and wounded, the
British two hundred and thirty-one, something very dif
ferent from the Long Island result. The next day Howe
considered the propriety of an assault, but thought the
works too strong. Then Lord Percy arrived with rein
forcements, but it stormed on the following day, and then
Washington quietly withdrew, leaving the British looking
at the works, and took up a new and stronger position at
Newcastle. While Washington was awaiting a fresh attack, the
enemy began to move to Dobb's Ferry, whither Howe
himself went in person on November 5th. The Ameri
cans, suspecting a movement into New Jersey, sent
troops across the river, leaving a small force at Peekskill

THE FIGHT FOR THE HUDSON

199

to guard the approach to the Highlands. But Howe's
object was not what the Americans supposed. He went
back for the purpose of capturing Fort Washington. This
fort and Fort Lee, on the opposite bank of the Hudson,

SITE OF FORT WASHINGTON, NEW YORK CITY, LOOKING TOWARD FORT
LEE.

were intended to command the river, a purpose for which
they were quite inadequate. Washington, with correct
military instinct, wished to abandon both, but especially
Fort Washington, when he retreated from Manhattan.
He gave way, however, to the judgment of a council of
war, and especially to the opinion of Greene, who declared

^oo THE STORY OF THE REVOLUTION
that the position was impregnable. His yielding to his
council was a mistake on this, as on other occasions, and
his too great deference to the opinion of his officers in the
early years of the war, when existing conditions very likely
forced him to subordinate his own views to those of others,
was usually unfortunate. In this instance the correctness
of his own judgment and his error in not standing to it
were soon and painfully shown. Greene was no doubt
mistaken in declaring the fort impregnable, but if it had
been it could not have withstood treachery. It is now
known, through a letter which came to light some twenty
years ago, that William Demont, the adjutant of Colonel
Magaw, went into the British lines and furnished Lord
Percy with complete plans of the works and a statement
of the armament and garrison. This, as we now know,
was the news which took Howe and his army back to New
York. Washington started for the fort as soon as he
learned of the British movement, but was turned back by
word that the garrison were in high spirits, and confident
of maintaining the place. They had no idea that they
had been betrayed, and Howe, thoroughly informed, made
a skilful attack at every point, and carried the outworks.
The Americans, driven into the central fort, were exposed
on all sides. They could not even hold their ground until
night, at which time Washington promised to come to
their relief, desperate as the attempt must have been.
They therefore surrendered on that day and over 2,000
men fell into the hands of the British, who had lost 454
in the assault, despite the advantages which Demont's trea
son gave them.
After the fall of Fort Washington, Howe crossed over
into New Jersey, and the first campaign for the Hudson

THE FIGHT FOR THE HUDSON 201
came to an end. The Americans had been beaten in
nearly every engagement, and they had suffered a heavy
loss by the capture of the fort. Yet the British campaign
had none the less failed. With his undisciplined troops
broken and demoralized by defeat, Washington had out
manoeuvred his adversary. He had avoided a pitched bat
tle, he had moved from one strong position to another,
and, although so inferior in numbers, he had forced Howe
to undertake slow and time-wasting flank movements.
Howe consumed two months in advancing thirty miles.
This in itself was defeat, for winter was upon him and Carle-
ton had been forced to retire from Crown Point after Ar
nold's brilliant and desperate naval fight on the lake which
was a Pyrrhic victory for the British. The line of the
Hudson was still in American control, and the American
army, much as it had suffered, was still in existence. The
British incompetence and the ability of Washington were
signally shown during this period of unbroken British suc
cess, when all the odds were in favor of Howe and against
his opponent.

CHAPTER IX
TRENTON AND PRINCETON
IT is easy to see now that while the British had been
highly successful in their immediate objects, they had
been defeated in the greater object upon which the
fate of the war really turned. It is easy, too, to appreciate
the ability with which Washington had fought, losing
fights in such a way as to defeat the essential purpose of
the English campaign. But at the time none of these
things were apparent and they were not understood. At
the moment the country saw only unbroken defeat, and
the spirit and hope of the Americans sank. The darkest
hour of the Revolution had come.
Fort Washington fell on November 16th. This ren
dered Fort Lee useless, and Washington ordered its im
mediate evacuation. While the necessary preparations
were being made, the enemy landed and Greene was
forced to withdraw in great haste, saving his men, but los
ing everything else. He at once joined the main army,
and it was well he could do so, for the situation was crit
ical in the extreme. Washington was now in an open flat
country, where he could not slip from one strong position
to another, and hold the British in check as he had done on
the Hudson. His army, too, was going to pieces. The
continued reverses had increased desertions, and the curse

THE RETREAT THROUGH THE JERSEYS.

TRENTON AND PRINCETON 205
of short enlistments, due to the lack of foresight and de
termination in Congress, was telling with deadly effect.
When their terms expired, the militia could not be in
duced to stay, but departed incontinently to their homes.
Washington sent urgent orders to Lee, who had been left
behind in the Highlands with 3,000 men, to join him, but
Lee, who thought Washington " damnably deficient," and
longed for an independent command, disobeyed orders,
lingered carelessly, and talked largely about attacking the
enemy in the rear. While thus usefully engaged he was
picked up by a British scouting party and made a prisoner.
At the time this incident was thought to be a disaster, for
the colonial idea that Lee was a great man, solely because
he was an Englishman, was still prevalent. As a matter
of fact, it was a piece of good fortune, because although
a clever man he was a mere critic and fault-finder, and
was an endless trouble to the American general.
Washington, holding up as best he might against all
these reverses, and with hardly 3,000 men now left in his
army, was forced to retreat. He moved rapidly and cau
tiously, holding his little force together and watching the
enemy. The British came on, unresisted, to Trenton and
contemplated an advance to Philadelphia. There all was
panic, and the people began to leave the city. In New
Jersey many persons entered the British lines to accept
Howe's amnesty, but this movement, which might easily
have gathered fatal proportions in the terror and depres
sion which then reigned, was stopped by the action of
the British themselves. Parties of British and Hessian
soldiers roamed over the country, burned and pillaged
houses, killed non-combatants, ravished women, and car
ried off young girls. These outrages made the people

In COUNCIL of SAFETY*
Philadelphia, December^, 1776.
S I R,
rTy HERE is certain intelligence of General Howe's army being-
yefterday on its march from BrunlWick to Princetown, which puts it
b?yond a doubt that tie intends for this city. — This glorious oppor
tunity of ftgnalizinghirafelf in defence of our country, and fecuring
the Rights of America forever, will be feized by every roan who has
a fpark of patriotic fire in his bofom. We entreat you to march
the Militia under your command with all poffible expedition to this
city, and bring with you as many waggons as you can poffibly pro
cure, which you are hereby authorized to imprefs, if they cannot be
hadotherwife — Delay not a moment, it may be fatal and fubjeft you
and all you hold moft dear to the -ruffian hands of the enemy, whofe
cruelties axe without diftincYian and unequalled.
By Order of the Council,
DAVID RITTENHOUSE, Vice-Prefident.
tithe COL'ONELS or COMMANDING
O F F I C E R S of the re/peCtioe Battalions of
this Statk,
TWO O'CLOCK, P.M.
THE Enemy are at Trenton, and all the City Militia are
marched to meet them.
Reduced from a broadside issued by the Council of Safety.

TRENTON AND PRINCETON 207
desperate, and they stopped seeking amnesty and took
up arms. All this alarm, moreover, fortunately came to nothing.
The winter was so advanced that the British decided not
to go to Philadelphia, where the panic nevertheless contin
ued for some days, and after Washington had been forced
to cross to the west bank of the Delaware, Congress,
thoroughly frightened, adjourned to Baltimore. Before
going, however, they passed a resolution giving Washing
ton "full power to order and direct all things relative to
the department and to the operation of the war." Thus
they put all that was left cf the Revolution into his hands
and made him dictator. They could not have done a
wiser act, but they were imposing a terrible burden upon
their general.
Never, indeed, did a dictator find himself in greater
straits. In all directions he had been sending for men while
by every method he sought to hold those he already had.
Yet, as fast as he gathered in new troops others left him,
for the bane of short enlistments poisoned everything. He
was not only fighting a civil war, but he had to make his
army as he fought, and even for that he had only these
shifting sands to build on. " They come," he wrote of the
militia, "you cannot tell when, and act you cannot tell
where, consume your provisions, waste your stores, and
leave you at last at a critical moment." He was as near
desperation as he ever came in his life. We can read it
all now in his letters, but he showed nothing of it to his
men. Schuyler, always faithful, sent him some troops.
Sullivan, too, came with those whom Lee had tried to lead,
and then it was found that the terms of these very troops
were expiring and that by the New Year Washington

208 THE STORY OF THE REVOLUTION
would be left with only fifteen hundred men, although
at the moment he had between five and six thousand still
with him and in outlying detachments. Opposed to him
were the British, 30,000 strong, with head-quarters in New
York, and strong divisions cantoned in the New Jersey
towns. Outnumbered six to one, ill provided in every
way, and with a dissolving army, it was a terrible situation
to face and conquer. But Washington rose to the height
of the occasion. Under the strain his full greatness came
out. No more yielding to councils now, no more modest
submission of his own opinion to that of others. A lesser
man," knowing that the British had suspended operations,
would have drawn his army together and tried to house and
recruit it through the winter. Washington, with his firm
grasp of all the military and political conditions, knew that
he ought to fight, and determined to do so. He accordingly
resolved to attack Trenton, where Colonel Rahl.was posted
with twelve hundred Hessians. To assure success, he
made every arrangement for other attacks to be combined
with that of his own force, and they all alike came to
nothing. Putnam was to come up from Philadelphia, and
did not move. Ewing was to cross near Trenton, but
thought it a bad night, and gave it up. Gates had already
departed from Bristol, whence he was to support Washr
ington, and had gone after Congress to get support for
himself. Cadwalader came down to the river, thought
that it was running too fiercely, and did not cross. They
all failed. But Washington did riot fail. Neither river
nor storm could turn, him, for he was going to fight. On
the night of Christmas he marched down to the Delaware
with twenty-four hundred men, who left bloody footprints
behind them on the . snow. The boats were ready.

WASHINGTONS TROOPS DISEMBARKING ON THE TRENTON SHORE OF THE
DELAWARE RIVER.

TRENTON AND PRINCETON

211

Glover's Marblehead fishermen manned them, and through
floating ice, against a strong current, in the bitter cold, the
troops were ferried over. It was four o'clock before they
were formed on the Jersey side. They were late in land
ing, they had still six miles to march and a driving storm
of sleet and snow beat in their faces. Washington
formed his little force in two columns, one under Greene,

THE POINT AT WHICH WASHINGTON CROSSED THE DELAWARE RIVER.
{As it now appears.]
one under Sullivan. As they marched rapidly onward
Sullivan sent word that the muskets were wet and could
not be fired. "Tell your General," said Washington, "to
use the bayonet, for the town must be taken." So they
pressed forward, the gray winter light slowly brightening
around them.
In the town to which they were bound all was comfort.
While the Americans had been rowing across a swollen
river amid floating ice and marching with blood-stained

212 THE STORY OF THE REVOLUTION
steps through storm and darkness, the Hessians had been
celebrating a hearty German Christmas. They had ca
roused late and without fear. Rahl had been warned that
Washington was planning an attack, but contempt for
their foe was again uppermost in the British councils, and
he laughed and paid no heed. From their comfortable
slumbers and warm beds, with the memories of their
Christmas feasting still with them, these poor Germans
were roused to meet a fierce assault from men ragged, in
deed, but desperate, with all the courage of their race ris
ing high in the darkest hour, and led by a great soldier
who meant to fight.
Washington and Greene came down the Pennington
road driving the pickets before them. As they advanced
they heard the cheers of Sullivan's men, as with Stark in
the van they charged up from the river. The Hessians
poured out from their barracks, were forced back by a
fierce bayonet charge, and then, trying to escape by the
Brunswick road, were cut off by Hand's riflemen, thrown
forward for that purpose by Washington. Rahl, half-
dressed, tried to rally his men, and was shot down. It
was all over in less than an hour. The well-aimed blow
had been struck so justly and so fiercely that the Hessians
had no chance. About two hundred escaped ; some thirty
were killed, and nine hundred and eighteen, with all their
cannon, equipage, and plunder, surrendered at discretion
as prisoners of war. The Americans lost two killed and
six wounded.
The news of the victory spread fast. To convince the
people of what had happened, the Hessian prisoners were
marched through the streets of Philadelphia, and a Hes
sian flag was sent to Baltimore to hang in the Hall of

THE SURPRISE AT TRENTON.
The Hessians poured out from their barracks but were forced back by a fierce bayonet charge.

TRENTON AND PRINCETON

215

Congress. The spirits of the people rose with a great re
bound. The cloud of depression which rested upon the
country was lifted, and hope was again felt everywhere.
Troops came in from Pennsylvania and New Jersey, and
the New England men agreed to stay on after the expi
ration of their term of enlistment.

¦mkm

-<'¦:

' T3r -
OLD KING STREET (NOW WARREN STREET), TRENTON.
On the right is a building which was occupied by the Hessians. On the site of the monument, in the
background, was stationed the American artillery, which commanded the street and Queen Street, along which
the Hessians were quartered.

The blow struck by Washington fell heavily upon the
British. Even with their powerful army they could not
afford to lose a thousand men at a stroke, nor would their
prestige bear such sudden disaster. It was clear even to
the sluggish mind of Howe that the American Revolution
was not over, and that Washington and an American
army still kept the field. Trenton must be redeemed, and
they determined to finish the business at once.

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TRENTON AND PRINCETON 21;
Washington with his fresh troops moved first, and re-
occupied Trenton. Cornwallis set out against him with
7,000 men on December 30th. He outnumbered Wash
ington, had a perfect equipment, and intended to destroy
his opponents. As he marched from Princeton on Janu
ary 2d, the Americans, under Hand, Scott, and Forrest,
fought him at every step, falling back slowly and disput
ing every inch of the ground, as Washington had directed.
It was noon before they reached Shabbakong Creek, when
two hours were consumed in crossing the stream. Then
came a fight at Trenton, where they suffered severely from
the American fire, but when they charged, the Americans,
having but few bayonets, gave way, retreated from the town
and joined the main army, which held a strong position on
the south side of the Assanpink. The British opened a
heavy cannonade and at once made an attempt to cross the
bridge, which was repulsed. Many officers urged a gen
eral and renewed attack, but the short winter day was
drawing to a close, and Cornwallis decided to wait until
morning. Washington had worn out the day with stub
born skirmishing, for he had no intention of fighting a
pitched battle with his ill-armed men, inferior in numbers
to their well-equipped opponents, who would receive rein
forcements in the morning. Cornwallis had given him all
he wanted, which was time, a gift constantly conferred on
Washington by the British generals. He had checked the
enemy all day, and he had now the night in which to act.
So he set the men to work on intrenchments, lighted
camp-fires along the river-bank, and having convinced
Cornwallis that he would be there in the morning, he
marched off with his whole army at midnight, leaving his
fires burning. Cornwallis had left all his stores at Bruns-

218

THE STORY OF THE REVOLUTION

wick, and three regiments of foot and three companies of
horse at Princeton. Thither then Washington was march
ing that winter night. He meant to strike his superior
enemy another blow at a weak point. By daybreak he
was near Princeton, and moved with the main army
straight for the town, while Mercer was detached with three
hundred men to destroy the bridge which gave the most

%0'^y ¦ ¦¦__ >-*p

g§jm SISSS

QUAKER MEETING-HOUSE, NEAR PRINCETON.
Near which Washington formed his troops before the battle.
direct connection with Cornwallis. The enemy had
started at sunrise, and one regiment was already over the
bridge when they saw the Americans. Colonel Mawhood
at once recrossed the bridge, and both Americans and
English made for some high commanding ground. The
Americans reached the desired point first, and a sharp
fight ensued. The American rifles did great execution,
but without bayonets they could not stand a charge.
Mercer was mortally wounded, and his men began to re
treat. As Mawhood advanced, he came upon the main

THE BA TTLE OF PRINCETON.
The new Pennsylvania militia in the van wavered pnder the British fire, and began to give way. Washington rode rapidly to the front, reined his horse within thirty
yards qf the enemy, and called to his men to standflrm.

TRENTON AND PRINCETON

221

American army, marching rapidly to the scene of action.
The new Pennsylvania militia in the van wavered under
the British fire, and began to give way. Washington for
getting, as he was too apt to do, his position, his impor
tance, and everything but the fight, rode rapidly to the
front, reined his horse within thirty yards of the enemy,
and called to his men to stand firm. The wavering
ceased, the Americans advanced, the British halted, and

STONY BROOK BRIDGE, NEAR PRINCETON.

The Americans destroyed it to cut off the pursuing British ; re
built J702.

Stony Brook
40 Miles to Phil?
jf Miles toN.Yorh

then gave way. The Seventeenth Regiment was badly
cut up, broken, and dispersed. The other two fled into
the town, made a brief stand, gave way again,' and were
driven in rout to Brunswick. Washington broke down
the bridges and, leaving Cornwallis, who had discovered
that he had been outgeneralled, to gaze at him from the
other side of the Millstone and of Stony Brook, moved
off to Somerset Court-house, where he stopped to rest his
men, who had been marching and fighting for eighteen
hours. It was too late to reach the magazines at Bruns-

222

THE STORY OF THE REVOLUTION

wick, but the work was done. The British suffered se
verely in the fighting of January 2d, although we have no
statistics of their losses. But on January 3d at Princeton
they lost nearly four hundred men in killed, wounded, and
prisoners, and their detachment at that point was shattered

HOUSE AND ROOM IN
WHICH GENERAL
MERCER DIED.
At the left of the house is the mon
ument recently erected to Mer
cer's memory.

and dispersed. Cornwallis gave up his plan of immedi
ately crushing and destroying the American army, stopped
his pursuit, withdrew all his men to Am boy and Bruns
wick, contracted his lines, and decided to allow the efface-
ment of the American army to wait until spring.
The Trenton and Princeton campaign was a very re
markable one, both from a military and a political point

TRENTON AND PRINCETON 223
of view. Washington found himself, after a series of de
feats and after a long retreat, which, however skilfully
managed, was still retreat, face to face with an enemy out
numbering him in the proportion of six to one. In little
more than a week, in the dead of winter, with a dwindling
army of raw troops shifting and changing under his hand
through the pernicious system of short enlistments, he had
assumed the offensive and won two decisive victories.
He had struck his vastly superior foe twice with superior
numbers on his own part at the point of contact, so that
he made his victory, so far as was humanly possible, sure
beforehand. With a beaten and defeated army operating
against overwhelming odds, he had inflicted upon the
enemy two severe defeats. No greater feat can be per
formed in wTar than this. That which puts Hannibal at
the head of all great commanders was the fact that he
won his astonishing victories under the same general con
ditions. There was one great military genius in Europe
when Washington was fighting this short campaign in
New Jersey — Frederick of Prussia. Looking over the
accounts of the Trenton and Princeton battles, he is re
ported to have said that it was the greatest campaign of
the century. The small numbers engaged did not blind
the victor of Rossbach and Leuthen. He did not mean
that the campaign was great from the number of men in
volved or the territory conquered, but great in its concep
tion, and as an illustration of the highest skill in the art of
war under the most adverse conditions. So, in truth, it
was. Washington was, by nature, a great soldier, and
after the manner of his race, he fought best when the tide
of fortune seemed to set most strongly against him. He
had complete mastery of the whole military situation, and

224

THE STORY OF THE REVOLUTION

knew exactly what he meant to do while his opponents
were fumbling about without any idea, except that the
Americans were beaten and that they must crush the
audacious general who would not stay beaten. This per
fect knowledge of all the conditions, including the capac-

**-:•

NASSAU HALL, PRINCETON, ERECTED 175b.
Seized by the British in 1776 ; retaken by Americans at the Battle of Prittceton, January 3, 1777. Here
met, from June 2b, 1783 to November 4, 1783, the Continental Congress, and here General Washington received
the grateful acknowledgments of Congress for his services in establishing the independence of the United
States.

ity of the generals opposed to him, combined with celer
ity of movement and the power of inspiring his men, were
the causes of Washington's success. And this is only
saying, in a roundabout way, that Washington, when the
pressure was hardest, possessed and displayed military
genius of a high order.
But there was another side than the purely military one

TRENTON AND PRINCETON 225
to this campaign, which showed that Washington was a
statesman as well as a soldier. The greatest chiefs in war
ought also to be great statesmen. Some few of them in
the world's history have combined both state and war craft,
but these are on the whole exceptions, and Washington
was one of the exceptions. He not only saw with abso
lute clearness the whole military situation, and knew just
what he meant to do and could do, but he understood the
political situation at home and abroad as no one else then
understood it. During the eighteen months which had
passed since he took command, he had dealt with Congress
and all the State governments and had gauged their strength
and their weakness. He had struggled day after day with
the defects of the army as then constituted. The difficulties
to be met were known to him as to no one else ; he had
watched and studied popular feeling and was familiar with
all its states and currents. He had seen the rush of the
first uprising of the people, and had witnessed the power
of this new force which had invaded Canada, seized Ti
conderoga, and driven British armies and fleets from Bos
ton and Charleston. But living as he did among difficulties
and facing facts, he also knew that the first victorious rush
was but a beginning, that a reaction was sure to come,
and that the vital question was whether the war could be
sustained through the period of reaction until the armed
people could arise again, more soberly, less enthusiastically
than before, but disciplined and with set purpose deter
mined to wrin by hard, slow, strenuous fighting. The first
rush passed. The inevitable defeats came in New York.
The period of reaction set in deeper and more perilous
perhaps than even Washington anticipated. If he closed
his campaign in defeat and retreat, the popular spirit upon
Vol. I.— 15

226 THE STORY OF THE REVOLUTION
which he relied would not probably have an opportunity
to revive, and the American Revolution would never see
another spring. After the retreat up the Hudson, the loss
of New York, and the steady falling back in New Jersey,
Europe would conclude that the moment England really
exerted herself, the rebellion had gone down before her
arms, and all hopes of foreign aid and alliance would be
at an end. Without a striking change in the course of
the war, the cause of the American people was certainly
lost abroad and probably ruined at home. This was the
thought which nerved Washington to enter upon that
desperate winter campaign. He must save the Revolu
tion in the field, before the people, and in the cabinets of
Europe. He must fight and win, no matter what the
odds, and he did both.
The result shows how accurately he had judged the
situation. After Trenton and Princeton the popular spirit
revived, and the force of the armed people began to stir
into a larger and stronger life. The watchers in Europe
doubted now very seriously England's ability to conquer
her colonists, and began to look on with an intense and
selfish interest. The American people awoke suddenly to
the fact that they had brought forth a great leader, and
they turned to him as the embodiment of all their hopes
and aspirations. The democratic movement destined to
such a great future had passed from the first stage of vic
torious confidence to the depths of doubt and reaction,
and now after Princeton and Trenton it began to mount
again. Congress had given all power into the hands of
Washington, and left the united colonies for the time
being without civil government. Washington took up
the burden in his strong hands in the darkest hour, and

TRENTON AND PRINCETON 227
bore it without flinching. All that was left of the Ameri
can Revolution during that Christmas week was with
Washington and his little army. How they fared in those
wintry marches and sharp battles, in storm and ice and
snow, chilled by the bitter cold, we know. The separation
of the North American Colonies from the mother-country
was probably inevitable. It surely would have come soon
er or later, either in peace or war. But it is equally cer
tain that the successful Revolution which actually made
the United States independent, was saved from ruin by
George Washington in the winter of 1776.

A

CHAPTER X
THE BURGOYNE CAMPAIGN
LONG the line of the Hudson alone was it possible
to separate one group of colonies from the rest.
That line reached from the sea on the south to
the British possessions in Canada on the north. Once in
full control of it the British would not only be masters of
New York, but they would cut off New England from the
other colonies. Nowhere else could this be done. At
any point on the long Atlantic coast they might seize sea
ports or even overrun one or more colonies ; but along the
Hudson alone could they divide the colonies, and by divid
ing, hopelessly cripple them. It required no very great
intelligence to perceive this fact, and the British Ministry
acted on it from the start. Carleton descended from Can
ada in the summer of 1776, while Howe was to advance
from the city and, driving the Americans before him, was to
unite with the northern army and thus get the control of
the two long lakes and of the great river of New York.
Carleton, who was almost the only efficient officer in the
British service, did his part fairly well. He came down the
lakes to Crown Point, which he captured and advanced as
far as Ticonderoga. Thence, hearing nothing from the
south, he was obliged, by the season and by his victory over
Arnold at Valcour, which cost him so dear and so heavily,
228

THE BURGOYNE CAMPAIGN 229
to withdraw. Howe, on his side, proceeded to force back
the Americans, and, having driven them some thirty miles
when he needed to cover nearly four hundred, he suddenly
retraced his steps and captured Fort Washington, a seri
ous loss at the moment to the Americans, but of no perma
nent effect whatever on the fortunes of the Revolution.
The essential and great object was sacrificed to one which
was temporary and unessential. Howe was incapable of
seeing the vital point. Unenterprising and slow, he was
baffled and delayed by Washington until summer had gone
and autumn was wearing away into winter.
Thus failed the first campaign for the Pludson, but
even while it was going to wreck, the Ministry — deeply
impressed with the importance of the prize — were making
ready for a second attempt. This time the main attack
was to be made from the north, and Sir Henry Clinton
was to come up the river and meet the victorious army
advancing from Canada. In order to insure success at the
start, the Ministry set aside Carleton, the efficient and ex
perienced, and intrusted this important expedition to an
other. The new commander was Sir John Burgoyne. A
brief statement of who he was and what he had done will
show why he was selected to lead in the most serious and
intelligent attempt made by England to conquer America
— an attempt upon which the fate of the Revolution turned
when success meant the division of the colonies, and defeat
a French alliance with the new States. Burgoyne came
of a good family, and had made a runaway marriage with
the daughter of Lord Derby. As matters went then, these
were sufficient reasons for the appointment ; but in justice
to Burgoyne, it must be said that he had other attributes
than those of birth and marriage. He was a member of

230 THE STORY OF THE REVOLUTION
Parliament and a clever debater ; a man of letters, and an
agreeable writer ; a not unsuccessful verse-maker and play
wright ; a soldier who had shown bravery in the war in
Portugal ; a gentleman and a man of fashion. He had
not given any indication of capacity for the command of
an army, but this wTas not thought of importance. Let it
be added that, although as a soldier he was the worst beat
en of the British generals, as a man he was much the best,
for he was clever, agreeable, and well-bred.
Having selected their commander, the Ministry cordi
ally supported him. With Lord George Germain, whose
own prowess in battle made him think the Americans not
only rebels but cowards, the campaign was planned. In it
the Indians, who had been held back by the judicious
Carleton, were to play a large part, and Canadians also
were to be enlisted. More Germans were purchased, and
no effort was spared to give the new General everything
he wanted. There was only one oversight. Lord George
Germain put the orders directing Howe to join Burgoyne
in a pigeon-hole, went off to the country and forgot them.
Thus it happened that Howe did not receive these some
what important instructions until August 16th. Hence,
some delay in marching north to Burgoyne, the results of
which will appear later. But this was mere forgetfulness.
The Ministry, with this trivial exception of Howe's or
ders, meant to give and did give Burgoyne everything he
wanted. So it came to pass that on June 13th at St.
Johns, when Burgoyne hoisted his flag on the Radeau, and
opened his campaign, he found himself at the head of a
fine army of nearly 8,000 men, composed of 4,135 English,
3,116 Germans, 503 Indians, and 148 Canadians. They
were thoroughly equipped and provided, and the artillery

THE BURGOYNE CAMPAIGN

231

was of the best. Another force of 1,000 men under
Colonel St. Leger was sent to the west to reduce Fort
Stanwix ; this done, he
was to descend the
Mohawk Valley and
join the main army at
Albany. The two ex
peditions were a seri
ous, well - supported,
and well-aimed attack
at a vital point, and if
successful meant un
told disaster to the
American cause.
All began well,
with much rhetoric
and flourish of trum
pets. A week after
hoisting his flag, on
June 20th, Burgoyne
issued a proclamation
in which he indulged
his literary propensi
ties, and no doubt en
joyed highly the pleas
ure of authorship. The
King, he said, was just
and clement, and had
directed "that Indians
be employed." The
Americans he declared to be " wilful outcasts," and in
the " consciousness of Christianity and the honor of sol-

J.HART NUTLEY N.J.

232

THE STORY OF THE REVOLUTION

diership " he warned them that the messengers of justice
and wrath awaited them on the field, together with devasta
tion, famine, and every con
comitant horror. Having
thus appealed to every Amer
ican to turn out and fight him.
he announced in general or
ders that " this army must not
retreat," and took his way up
Lake Champlain, the Indians
in their war-paint leading the
van in their canoes, and the
British and Germans follow
ing in a large flotilla with
bands playing and banners
flying. At the start all went well
and victoriously. Schuyler,
in command of the northern
department, had been laboring with energy to repair
the lines of defence broken by Carleton's invasion of
the previous summer, and make ready for the coming
of the new attack. But he had been unsupported by
Congress and had been manfully struggling with really
insuperable difficulties. Instead of the proper garrison
of 5,000 men at Ticonderoga, there were barely 2,500
ill-armed continental troops, and nine hundred militia, a
force far too small to maintain a proper line of works.
The British at once seized some unoccupied and com
manding heights and opened a plunging fire on the
American position with such effect that St. Clair, who
was in command at Ticonderoga, decided that the place

GENERAL PHILIP SCHUYLER.
From the fainting by Trumbull (171)2) in the
Yale College sirt Gallery. (Said to be the
only portrait qf General Schuyler now in ex
istence)

THE BURGOYNE CAMPAIGN

233

was untenable, and on the night of July 5th abandoned it.
He sent the women and wounded under the protection of
Colonel Long and six hundred troops by boat to Skenes-
boro' where they were attacked and the American flotilla
destroyed. Long thereupon withdrew to Fort Anne, and
the next day fought a good action there, but being out
numbered, he abandoned the position and retreated to Fort

RUINS OF OLD FORT FREDERICK, CROWN POINT— AT THE PRESENT TIME.

Edward, where he joined Schuyler. Meantime, St. Clair,
assailed on his retreat by the British, with whom his rear
guard fought stubbornly, made his way also to Fort Ed
ward and joined Schuyler on the 12th. The united Amer
ican force numbered less than 5,000 men, ill-armed and
unprovided in every way. Schuyler, however, faced the
situation bravely and with no sign of flinching or panic,
did at once and effectively the wisest thing possible.

234

THE STORY OF THE REVOLUTION

The British had allied themselves with the Indians, Schuy
ler made the wilderness the ally of the Americans. He
destroyed all the wood roads, burnt the bridges, filled
up the practicable waterways with logs and stones, and
stripped the country of cattle and all provisions. Doing
this diligently and thoroughly, he fell back slowly to Fort
Miller, ruining the road as he passed, and thence to Still
water, where he intrenched himself and awaited reinforce-

THE HOME OF GENERAL PHILIP SCHUYLER AT OLD SARATOGA, NEAR
SCHUYLER VILLE.
ments, Arnold in the meantime having joined him with
the artillery.
Burgoyne, on the other hand, elated by easy victory,
sent home a messenger with exulting tidings of his success,
when, in reality, his troubles were just beginning. The
country sparsely settled, and hardly opened at all, sank
back under Schuyler's treatment to an utter wilderness.
The British in New York, New Jersey, and Massachusetts
had been operating in a long-settled region where the
roads were good. Now they were in a primeval forest,

THE BURGOYNE CAMPAIGN

235

with every foot-path and track destroyed, every bridge
burned, every creek choked. Burgoyne had to cut a
new road, build forty bridges,
and reopen Wood Creek. He
consumed twenty-four days in
marching twenty - six miles,
from Skenesboro' to Fort Ed
ward, and after arriving there,
on July 30th, he was obliged
to wait until August 15th for
the arrival of his artillery and
heavy ammunition from Lake
George. Even while his jubilant
message was on its way to
London, the wilderness, un
der Schuyler's wise manage
ment, had dealt him this deadly blow of fatal delay. Nor
was this all. The employment of the Indians, who had
been ravaging and scalping from the day the British
crossed the frontier, had roused the people of the north
as nothing else could have done. The frontiersmen and
pioneers rose in all directions, for the scalping of wounded
soldiers awakened in the Americans a fierce spirit of re
venge, which would stop at no danger. The idea that the
Indians would terrify the Americans was a foolish dream.
Nothing in reality was calculated to make them fight so
hard. Perhaps even Burgoyne may have had a glimmer
ing of this truth when two of the allies of his clement
King tomahawked and scalped Miss McCrea. There was
nothing unusual about the deed, but the unfortunate girl
happened to be a loyalist herself and betrothed to a loyal-

GENERAL JOHN BURGOYNE.
m an engraving (after the painting by Gard
ner) published in 1784.

236 THE STORY OF THE REVOLUTION
ist in Burgoyne's camp, whither she was travelling under
the escort of the Indians who murdered her. Thus Bur
goyne's invasion, his Indians, and his proclamations
aroused the country, and Schuyler's treatment of forest
and stream gave the delay necessary to allow the people to

THE RAVINE AT ORISKANY, NEW YORK.
The tall elm on the left was said to be standing at the time. The Indian allies lay in ambusJi on the
hill-sides, -which were then densely -wooded, and attacked the Americans as they crossed on the road i?i the
foreground.
rise in arms. Even while Burgoyne was toiling over his
twenty-six miles of wilderness, the mischief had begun.
The first blow came from the west. Much was ex
pected from the strong expedition directed against Fort
Stanwix, and much was staked upon it. When St. Leger
arrived there on August 2d, with his Indians and loyalists
as allies, he summoned it to surrender. Colonel Ganse-

BATTLE OF ORISKANY.
Herkimer was mortally wounded early in the action, but the brave old man had himself propped up with his saddle against a tree, and t

•ttiniud to direct the battle.

THE BURGOYNE CAMPAIGN

239

voort refused, and the British began a regular siege. Here,
too, all that was needed was time. The hardy pioneers of
that frontier county rallied under General Herkimer, and
to the number of eight hundred marched with him to re
lieve Gansevoort. When within eight miles of Fort Stan-
wix, Herkimer halted and sent a messenger to the fort
with a request that on his arrival three guns should be

GENERAL HERKIMERS HOUSE AT DANUBE, NEAR LITTLE FALLS, NEW
YORK.
In the family burying ground is Herkimer' s grave, marked by the Jiag, to the right is the base of the monu
ment recently erected to his memory.
fired and a sortie made. Impatient of delay, Herkimer's
officers wTould not wait the signal, and unwisely insisted on
an immediate advance, which led them into an ambush of
the British and their Indian allies. Although taken at a dis
advantage, this was a kind of warfare which the Americans
thoroughly understood, and a desperate hand-to-hand and
tree-to-tree fight began. Herkimer was mortally wounded
early in the action, but the brave old man had himself
propped up with his saddle against a tree, and continued

240 THE STORY OF THE REVOLUTION

to issue his orders and
direct the battle. This
savage fighting went on
for live hours, and then
at last the guns were
heard from the fort.
Colonel Willet dashed
out on the British camp
with two hundred and
old stone church at german flats fifty men, destroyed
IN THE MOHAWK VALLEY. ^g Qf ^ mtrench_
It -was built in 1767 and formed part of tlie stockaded de
fence of Fort Herkimer, and was often used by tlie settlers as TnCtltS 3. Tl (1 CELDtUXCCl
a place of refuge from the raids of the Tories and Indians. *
prisoners, camp equi
page, and five flags. He could not get through to Her
kimer, but the Indians, hearing the firing in their rear,
retreated, and were soon followed by the loyalists and

THE BURGOYNE CAMPAIGN

241

regular troops, leaving Herkimer master of the field and
victor in the hard-fought backwoods fight of Oriskany.
St. Leger, despite this heavy check, still clung to his in
trenchments, and on August 7th again summoned the fort
to surrender. Gansevoort, with the five British standards
flying below the new American flag, made from strips of
an overcoat and a petticoat, contemptuously refused. The
besiegers renewed their attack in vain, and were easily
repulsed. Then came rumors of Arnold's advance to the
relief of the fort ; the Indians fled, and St. Leger, deserted
by these important allies, was forced to raise the siege.
On August 2 2d he abandoned his works in disorder, leav
ing his artillery and camp equipage, and made a disorderly
retreat to Canada, broken and beaten. The stubborn re
sistance of Gansevoort and the gallant fight of Herkimer

CASTLE CHURCH, NEAR DANUBE, IN THE MOHAWK VALLEY.
Built as a Missioftfor the Indians by Sir William yohnson. Tlie notorious Brant was taught here
by the Missionaries, and lived in a house a little to the north of the church.
VOL. I. — 16

242

THE STORY OF THE REVOLUTION

had triumphed. Arnold was able to rejoin Schuyler with
the news that the valley of the Mohawk was saved. The
western expedition of the north
ern invasion had broken down
and failed.
While St. Leger was thus go-
M ijL ing to wreck in the west, Bur-
goyne's own situation was grow

ing difficult and painful. Provi-

GENERAL JOHN STARK.
From a painting ( after Trumbull) by V. D.
Tenney, at Hie State Capitol at Con
cord, N. H.

sions were falling short, and the
army was becoming straitened for
food, for Schuyler had stripped
the country to good purpose, and
to the difficulties of moving the
army was now added that of feed
ing it. Bad reports, too, came
from New England. It ap
peared that the invasion had
roused the people there to defend their homes against Ind
ians and white men alike. Stark had raised his standard
at Charlestown, on the Connecticut River, and the militia
were pouring in to follow the sturdy soldier of Bunker
Hill and Trenton.
Nevertheless, food must be had, and these gathering
farmers, who seemed disposed to interfere, must be dis
persed. So Burgoyne, on August nth, sent Colonel
Baum, with five hundred and fifty Hessians and British,
and fifty Indians, to raid the country, lift the cattle, and
incidentally repress the rebellious inhabitants of the New
Hampshire grants. Four days later he sent Colonel Brey-
mann, with six hundred and forty-two Brunswickers, to
support the first detachment, for Baum had asked for re-

THE BURGOYNE CAMPAIGN 243
inforcements. Apparently, the task before him looked
more serious than he anticipated. Still he kept on stead
ily, and on August 13th encamped on a hill, about four
miles from Bennington, in the present State of Vermont,.
and proceeded to intrench himself. This was an unusual
proceeding for a rapid and desolating raid, but it was now
apparent that, instead of waiting to be raided, the New
Englanders were coming to meet their foe.
As soon as Stark heard of the advance of Baum, he
marched at once against him with the fifteen hundred men
he had gathered from New Hampshire and Massachusetts,
disregarding the orders he had received meantime to join
the main army under Schuyler. On August 14th he was
within a mile of the Indo-Germanic camp, but could not
draw them out to battle. The 15th it rained heavily, and
Stark kept up a constant skirmishing, while the Hessians
worked on their intrenchments.
August 1 6th was fair and warm, and Stark, suspecting
the approach of reinforcements to the enemy, determined
to storm the hill, a rather desperate undertaking for undis
ciplined farmers, armed only with rifles and destitute of
side-arms or bayonets. Nevertheless, it was possible, and
Stark meant to try. Early in the day he sent five hun
dred men, under Nichols and Herrick, to the rear of the
Hessian position. Baum, honest German that he was.
noticed small parties of Americans making their way tow
ard the rear of his intrenchments ; but he had never seen
soldiers except in uniform, and he could not imagine that
these farmers, in their shirt-sleeves and without bayonets
or equipment, were fighting men. He had never con
ceived the idea of an armed people. In truth, the phe
nomenon was new, and it is not surprising that Baum did

244 THE STORY OF THE REVOLUTION
not understand it. He concluded that these stragglers
were peasants flocking to the support of their King's
hired troops, and let them slip by. Thus Stark success
fully massed his five hundred men in the rear of the Brit
ish forces. Then he made a feint, and under cover of it
moved another body of two hundred to the right. This
done, he had his men in position, and was ready to attack.
He outnumbered the enemy more than two to one, but
his men were merely militia, and without bayonets — a
badly equipped force for an assault. The British, on the
other hand, were thoroughly disciplined, regular troops, in
trenched and with artillery. The advantage was all theirs,
for they had merely to hold their ground. But Stark
knew his men. The wild fighting blood of his Scotch-
Irish ancestors was up, and he gave the word. The
Americans pressed forward, using their rifles with deadly
effect. The Indian allies of the King, having no illusions
as to American frontiersmen in their shirt-sleeves and
armed with rifles, slipped off early in the fray, while the
British and Hessians stood their ground doggedly and
bravely. The Americans swarmed on all sides. They
would creep or run up to within ten yards of the works,
pick off the artillerymen and fall back. For two hours
the fight raged hotly, the Americans closing in more and
more, and each assault becoming more desperate than the
last. Stark, who said the firing was a " continuous roar,"
was everywhere among his men. At last, begrimed with
powder and smoke almost beyond recognition, he led them
in a final charge. They rushed over the works, and beat
down the men at the guns with clubbed rifles. Baum
ordered his men to charge with the bayonet ; the Ameri
cans repulsed them ; Baum fell mortally wounded, and his

Stark . . was everywhere among his men.

BA TTLE OF BENNINGTON.
He led them in a Snal charge. They rushed over the works, and beat down the men at the guns with clubbed rifle*

THE BURGOYNE CAMPAIGN

247

soldiers surrendered. It was none too soon. Stark's
judgment had been right, for Baum's men had hardly laid
down their arms when Breymann appeared with his de
tachment and attacked. Under this new assault the
Americans wav
ered, but Stark ral-

CATAMOUNT TAVERN, BENNINGTON,
VT, THE HEAD-QUARTERS OF GEN
ERAL STARK AND THE COUNCIL
OF SAFETY.
(Drawn from an old photograph.)

lied them, and put
ting in the one hun
dred and fifty fresh
Vermont men, un
der Warner, re
pulsed the Bruns-

MONUMENT AVENUE, BENNINGTON, AT THE
PRESENT TIME.
Tlie Battle Monument in the distance. The pedestal to the right
marks the site of the Catamount Tavern.

wickers, and Brey
mann retreated, beaten and in haste, under cover of dark
ness. Another hour and he, too, would have been crushed.
There was no strategy about the action at Bennington.
"It was the plain shock and even play of battle;" sheer
hard fighting, often hand to hand, and the American farm
ers defending their homes, and well led, proved more

248 THE STORY OF THE REVOLUTION
than a match for the intrenched regulars. Bennington
showed a great advance over Bunker Hill, for here the
Americans attacked in the open an intrenched position
defended by artillery and carried it. The well-aimed rifles
of the pioneer settlers of the New England hills won the
day. The American loss was eighty-two killed and
wounded; the British two hundred and seven, which
shows the superior marksmanship of Stark's men, who, as
the assaulting force, should have suffered most. But the
Americans also took 700 prisoners, 1,000 stand of small
arms, and all the artillery of the British. It was a deadly
blow to Burgoyne. The defeat of St. Leger meant the
failure of an important part of the campaign, while Ben
nington crippled the main army of invasion and swept
away at a stroke 1,000 men.
The victories of Oriskany and Bennington inspirited the
country. Volunteers began to come in increasing num
bers from New York and New England, and even from
the extreme eastern counties of Massachusetts. » Wash
ington, hard pressed as he was, but with characteristic
generosity, sent Morgan's fine corps of Virginian riflemen,
while Congress, with a wisdom which resembled that of
Lord Germain, in setting aside Carleton, selected this mo
ment to supersede Schuyler, who was about to reap the
reward of his wise prevision and steadfast courage. The
general they now chose for the northern army, and upon
whom they lavished all the support, both moral and mate
rial, which they had withheld from Schuyler, was Horatio
Gates, " the son of the house-keeper of the second Duke
of Leeds." Beyond his English birth and his somewhat
remote connection with the British peerage, Gates had no
claim whatever to command any army. It is but just to

THE BURGOYNE CAMPAIGN

249

say that his command was in practice largely nominal, but
it was given him solely because Congress, with colonial
habits still strong upon them,
were dazzled by the fact that
he was an Englishman. It
was a repetition of the case
of Lee. Gates, although an
intriguer, was more sluggish
than Lee, less clever and less
malignant, but it would be
hard to say which was the
more ineffective, or which the
more positively harmful.
Both did mischief, neither did
good to the cause they es
poused. In the present in
stance, Gates could not do
any fatal injury, for the armed
people -had turned out and were hunting the enemy to his
death. But he might have led them and saved much time,
and not lessened the final result by weakness of spirit.
When he took command, on August 19th, Gates
found himself at the head of an army in high spirits and
steadily increasing in strength. After contemplating the
situation for three weeks he marched from the mouth of
the Mohawk to Bemis's Heights, on the west bank of
the Hudson. There he awaited his enemy, and a very
troubled and hard-pressed enemy it was. Burgoyne had
been sorely hurt by the defeat at Bennington ; no more
men came from the north ; the country had been stripped ;
he was short of supplies, which had to be brought from
Canada, and he could hear of no relief from the south.

GENERAL HORATIO GATES.
From the hitherto unpublished portrait painted by
R. E. Pine, 1783.

250 THE STORY OF THE REVOLUTION
So he hesitated and waited until, at last, having got artil
lery, stores, and provisions by way of Lake George, he
bethought him that this was an army which was not to
retreat, and on September 1 3th crossed to the west bank
of the Hudson.
An additional reason for his doubts and fears, which
he thus finally put aside, was that the Americans were
threatening his line of communication. General Lincoln,
with two thousand men, had moved to the rear of Bur
goyne. Thence he detached Colonel Brown with five
hundred soldiers, and this force fell upon the outworks of
Ticonderoga, took them, released a hundred American
prisoners, captured nearly three hundred British soldiers
and five cannon, and then rejoined Lincoln at their leisure.
The net was tightening. The road to Canada was being
closed either for succor or retreat. Yet Burgoyne kept
on, and on September 18th, when Brown and his men
were carrying the Ticonderoga outworks, he stopped his
march within two miles of the American camp at Bemis's
Heights. The next morning, the 19th, about eleven o'clock, the
British army advanced in three columns. Burgoyne com
manded the centre ; Riedesel and Phillips, with the artil
lery, were on the left ; while Fraser, commanding the
right, swung far over in order to cover and turn the Amer
ican left. Gates, like Stendhal's hero, who, as he came on
the field of Waterloo, asked the old soldier if the fighting
then in progress was a battle, seemed to regard the British
advance as a parade and watched it with sluggish interest
but without giving orders. This Arnold could not stand,
and he sent Morgan's riflemen and some light infantry to
check Fraser. They easily scattered the loyalists and Ind

THE BURGOYNE CAMPAIGN

2U

mm

1 -V^v- -

ians, and then fell back before the main column. Ar
nold then changed his direction, and fresh troops having
come up, attacked the British centre with a view of break
ing in between Bur
goyne and Fraser. The
action thus became gen
eral and was hotly
waged. The Americans
attacked again and
again, and finally broke
the line. Burgoyne was
only saved by Riedesel
abandoning his post and
coming to the support
of the central column
with all the artillery.
About five o'clock
Gates, rousing from his
lethargy, sent Learned
with his brigade to the
enemy's rear. Had this been done earlier, the British army
would have been crushed. As it was, the right moment
had gone by. It was now too late for a decisive stroke ;
darkness was falling, and the Americans drew off to their
intrenchments, the enemy holding the ground they had
advanced to in the morning. Such was the battle of
Freeman's Farm. Had Gates reinforced Arnold or sent
Learned forward earlier, the result would have been far
more decisive. Without a general, led only by their
regimental and brigade commanders, the American troops
had come into action and fought their own battle in their
own way as best they could. If they had been directed

r

- ^

¦>

\

OLD BATTLE WELL ON FREEMANS
FARM, AT THE PRESENT TIME.
Here a Fierce Conflict for Possession Took Place.

252

THE STORY OF THE REVOLUTION

by an efficient chief, they would have ended the Burgoyne
campaign then and there. As it was, they inflicted a se
vere blow. The Americans had about 3,000 men en
gaged ; the British about 3,500. The American loss was
283 killed and wounded, and 38 missing. The British
loss in killed and wounded, according to their own re-

CE7 AR AT THE PRESENT TIME IN THE MARSHALL HOUSE, SCHUYLER.
VILLE, WHICH WAS USED AS A HOSPITAL FOR THE BRITISH.
Through the door is seen the room in which Madame Riedesel and her children took refuge for six days.

ports, was 600. Both sides fought in the open, and the
Americans, after the first advance, attacked. They had
few bayonets and but little artillery, while the British had
both in abundance, yet the disparity in the losses showed
again the superiority of the American marksmanship and
the deadly character of their rifle fire.

BURIAL OF GENERAL FRASER.

THE BURGOYNE CAMPAIGN 255
The result of the action at Freeman's Farm rejoiced
the Americans, and fresh troops from the surrounding
country kept coming into camp. Still Gates did nothing
except quarrel with Arnold and relieve him from his com
mand. Instead of following up his advantage and attack
ing Burgoyne, he sat still and looked at him. This atti
tude, if not useful, was easy and pleasant to Gates ; but to
Burgoyne — harassed by constant skirmishing, deserted by
his Indians, short of provisions, and with no definite news
of the promised relief from the south — it was impossible.
He had heard from Clinton that a diversion was to be
made from New York, and this tempted him to say that
he could hold on until October 12th. Lord George Ger
main's orders had indeed been found in their pigeon-hole
and finally despatched. Reinforcements also had been
sent to Clinton, and thus stimulated, he moved out of
New York on October 3d with a large fleet and 3,000
troops. He easily deceived Putnam, crossed to King's
Ferry and carried the weakly garrisoned forts — Montgom
ery and Clinton. Then the fleet destroyed the boom and
chain in the river, and the Americans were compelled to
beach and burn two frigates, which were there to defend
the boom. This accomplished, Sir Henry Clinton, op
pressed by the lateness of the season, retraced his steps,
leaving Vaughan to carry the raid as far as Kingston,
which he burned, and then to retire, in his turn, to New
York. This performance was what lured Burgoyne to
stand his ground. But no amount of hope of Clinton's
coming could sustain him indefinitely. Some of his gen
erals, in fact, urged retreat, forgetting that this particular
army was not to retreat, but to advance continually. Un
der the pressure, however, Burgoyne determined to try

256 THE STORY OF THE REVOLUTION
one more fight, and, if unsuccessful, fall back behind the
Batten Kill.
His plan was to make a reconnoissance in force and
with this object, at ten o'clock on October 7th, Burgoyne
left his camp with 1,500 of his best troops and 10 pieces
of artillery. Again he formed them in three columns,
with Fraser on the right, Riedesel and his Brunswickers
in the centre, and Phillips on the left. As soon as the
British moved, Gates sent out Morgan to meet the enemy
on the right while Learned was to oppose the central col
umn, and Poor, with the continentals, was to face Phillips.
Poor opened the battle and, supported by Learned, at
tacked Acland's grenadiers and broke them despite their
well-directed fire. Meantime, Morgan with his riflemen,
and Dearborn with the light infantry, fell upon the British
right. So fierce was this assault that Burgoyne, seeing
that his right would be turned, ordered Fraser to fall back
and take a new position. In doing so, Fraser was mor
tally wounded by a Virginian rifleman. While the wings
were thus breaking, the Brunswickers in the centre held
firm, and then Arnold, who was on the field merely as a
volunteer and with no command, put himself at the head
of his old division and led them in a succession of charges
against the German position. The Brunswickers behaved
well and Burgoyne exposed himself recklessly, but they
could not stand the repeated shocks. One regiment
broke and was rallied, only to break again. The Ameri
cans took eight of the ten guns, and at last the British
were forced back to their intrenched camp, where they ral
lied and stood their ground. There Arnold continued his
fierce attacks and was badly wounded. The darkness
alone stopped the fight and saved the remnants of the

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Reproduced, by permission, from the original document in the collection of the New York Historical Society.
258 THE STORY OF THE REVOLUTION
British army, but it had been a disastrous day for Bur
goyne. Fraser and Breymann were both killed, and Sir
Francis Clarke — Burgoyne's first aide. The British lost
426 killed and wounded, 200 prisoners, nine guns, ammu
nition, and baggage. The Americans had about 200
killed and wounded.
The blow was a deadly one, and it was obvious that
nothing now remained for the British and Germans but a
desperate effort to retreat. After burying poor Fraser in
the intrenchments, while the American shot tore the earth
and whistled through the air over the grave, Burgoyne
abandoned his sick and wounded on the next night after
the battle and retreated through the storm to Saratoga.
But the attempt was hopeless, and even Gates could not
fail to conquer him now. On the ioth, when he tried to
see if there was escape by the west bank of the Hudson, he
found that Stark, the victor of Bennington, was at Fort
Edward with 2,000 men. On the 1 ith the Americans scat
tered the British posts at the mouth of the Fishkill, capt
ured all their boats and nearly all their provisions. On
the 1 2th Burgoyne was surrounded. Outnumbered and
exposed to concentric fire, he yielded to the inevitable,
and on the 14th sent in a flag of truce to treat for a sur
render. Gates demanded that the surrender be uncondi
tional. Burgoyne refused to consider it. Thereupon
Gates, alarmed by rumors of the raid and village burning
under Vaughan, instead of attacking at once, gave way
feebly and agreed to a convention by which the British
surrendered, but were free to go to England on agreeing
not to serve again against America.
The convention was an inglorious one to Gates when
he actually held the British helpless in his grasp, but it

SURRENDER OF BURGOYNE.
The disarmed British soldiers passed between the American lines which extended for nearly a mile. General Burgoyne stepped to one side, drew his sword, and, in silence, /landed it to
General Gates, who, however, immediately returned it.

THE BURGOYNE CAMPAIGN 261
answered every practical purpose. By the convention of
October 16, 1777, a British general with his army number-
mS 5-791 surrendered. Eighteen hundred and fifty-six
prisoners of war were already in the hands of the Ameri
cans. Including the losses in the field and in the various
actions from Ticonderoga and Oriskany to Bennington
and Saratoga, England had lost 10,000 men, and had sur
rendered at Saratoga forty-two guns and forty-six hundred
muskets. The victory had been won by the rank and file, by the
regiments and companies, for after the departure of Schuy
ler there was no general-in-chief. The battles were fought
under the lead of division commanders like Arnold, Mor
gan, or Poor, or else under popular chiefs like Herkimer
and Stark. But it was the American people who had
wrecked Burgoyne. He came down into that still unset
tled region of lake and mountain with all the pomp and
equipment of European war. He brought with him Ind
ian allies, and the people of New York and New England
knew well what that meant. They were not disciplined
or uniformed, and they had no weapons except their rifles
and hunting-knives. But they could fight and they knew
what an Indian was, even though they had never seen a
Hessian or a British grenadier. They rose up in Bur-
goyne's path, and, allied with the wilderness, they began
to fight him. Regular troops came to their support from
Washington's army, and militia were sent by the States
from the seaboard. Thus the Americans multiplied while
the British dwindled. The wilderness hemmed in the
trained troops of England and Germany, and the men, to
whom the forests and the streams were as familiar as their
own firesides, swarmed about them with evergrowing num-

262 THE STORY OF THE REVOLUTION
bers. At last, the English army, reduced one half, beaten
and crippled in successive engagements, ringed round by
enemies, surrendered. Again, and more forcibly than ever,
facts said to England's Ministers : " These Americans can
fight ; they have been taught to ride and shoot, and look a
stranger in the face ; they are of a fighting stock ; it is not
well in a spirit of contempt to raid their country and
threaten their homes with Indians : if you do this thing in
this spirit, disaster will come." As a matter of fact, disas
ter came, and Burgoyne's expedition, the most important
sent by England against her revolted colonies, failed and
went to wreck.

CHAPTER XI
THE RESULTS OF SARATOGA
SARATOGA, where Burgoyne's surrender took
place, is counted by Sir Edward Creasy among
the fifteen decisive battles of the world. By
this verdict the American victory comes into a very
small and very memorable company. The world's history
is full of battles and sieges, and among this almost count
less host only fifteen are deemed worthy, by an accom
plished historian, to take rank as decisive in the widest
sense, and as affecting the destiny of mankind. By what
title does Saratoga rise to this dignity ? Certainly not
from the numbers engaged, for they were comparatively
small. The victory was complete, it is true, but an army
of 10,000 men has been beaten and has surrendered many
times without deciding anything, not even the issue of a
campaign. From the military point of view the blow was
a heavy one to England, but she has suffered much greater
losses than this in her career of conquest and still has
come out victorious.
The fact is that the significance of Saratoga lies less
in what it actually was, than in what it proved and what
it brought to pass. It showed the fighting quality of the
American people, and demonstrated that they were able
to rise up around a powerful and disciplined force and
263

264 THE STORY OF THE REVOLUTION
hunt it down to ruin and surrender. The prospect of
conquering a people capable of such fighting, defended
by three thousand miles of ocean and backed by the
wilderness, was obviously slight. Saratoga meant, further,
that the attempt to control the Hudson, and thus divide
the States, had definitely failed. The enormous advantage
of a country united for military purposes had been won,
and the union of the new States, which, physically as well
as politically, was essential to victory, had been secured,
and, once secured, this meant ultimate success. Last, and
most important of all, the surrender of Burgoyne and the
utter wreck of his campaign convinced Europe of these
very facts, or, in other words, assured foreign powers that
the revolted colonies would win in the end. It required
the keen intellect of Frederick the Great to appreciate
Trenton and Princeton. He realized that those battles,
flashing out from the clouds of defeat and misfortune,
meant that the Americans had developed a great leader,
a soldier of genius, and that under such a man a fighting
people could not be beaten by an enemy whose base of
supplies was 3,000 miles away. But no Frederick was
needed to comprehend Saratoga, where there had been
no strategy, nothing but hard, blunt fighting, ending in
the effacement of a British army and the ruin of a cam
paign of vital importance. This was clear to all men in
the despatches which announced Burgoyne's surrender,
and the knowledge brought America supplies, money,
and allies. Alone, the colonies could not be conquered.
With a European alliance their victory became certain.
To understand exactly what was wrought by the fight
ing in those northern forests, it is necessary to know the
conditions existing on the other side of the Atlantic at the

THE RESULTS OF SARATOGA 265
time when the men of New York and Virginia and New
England finally brought their quarry down at Saratoga.
The American Revolution was fought out not only in the
field but in the Cabinets of Europe as well. The new na
tion not only had to win battles and sustain defeats, but
also to gain recognition at the great tribunal of public opin
ion and prove its right to live. Statesmen were required
as well as commanders of armies and captains of frigates,
in order to break the British Empire and establish a new
people among the nations of the earth. The statesmen
came. They, indeed, had begun the work, for it had
fallen to them to argue the American cause with Eng
land, and then to state to the world the reasons and neces
sity for independence. Even before this was done, how.
ever, it had become evident to the leaders in Congress
that the American cause, in order to succeed, must be
recognized in Europe, and must even obtain there an ac
tive support. So it came about that the political leaders
in America, after this was fairly understood, as a rule
either returned to their States, where the most energetic
assistance could be given to the Revolution, or went
abroad to plead their country's cause in foreign lands.
Congress sank in ability and strength in consequence, but
as it never could have been an efficient executive body
in any event, this was of less moment than that the high
est political ability of the country should be concentrated
on the most vital points. Thus it was that the strength
of American statesmanship, after the Declaration of In
dependence, instinctively turned to diplomacy as the field
where the greatest results could be achieved, and where
alone allies, money, and supplies could be obtained. The
beginnings were small and modest enough, and Congress

266 THE STORY OF THE REVOLUTION
hesitated in this direction as long and as seriously as it did
in regard to independence ; for foreign aid and alliance,
as much as war, meant final separation from the mother-
country. The resistance of the colonies to England had gradually
attracted the attention of Europe. The continental gov
ernments generally were slow to see the importance of
this transatlantic movement ; but the French, still smarting
under the loss of Canada, were quick to perceive how
much it might mean to them in the way of revenge.
Bunker Hill roused them and riveted their attention.
Vergennes, watching events closely and from the first
eager to strike at England, secretly sent M. de Bon-
vouloir, a former resident of the West Indies, to visit
America and report. De Bonvouloir, on reaching Phila
delphia, had a private interview with Franklin, and re
ported that, although the resistance to England was deter
mined, the Americans hesitated to seek foreign aid. This,
without doubt, was a true picture of the situation and of
the state of American feeling at that time. Yet, a little
later, in December, 1775, Congress made a first timid
step toward outside assistance by authorizing Arthur Lee
— then in London — to ascertain the feeling of the Euro
pean governments in regard to the colonies. Arthur Lee
was one of the distinguished brothers of the well-known
Virginian family. He was intelligent and well-educated,
having taken a degree in medicine and then studied law
He was an accomplished man with a good address, and
ample knowledge of the world and of society. In ability
he did not rise to the level of the very difficult task which
developed before him later, and he proved to have a jeal
ous and quarrelsome disposition which led him to intrigue

THE RESULTS OF SARATOGA 267
against Franklin and into other serious troubles. At this
time, however, he did very well, for he had been the agent
of Massachusetts, and knew his ground thoroughly. He
seems to have obtained good information, and, what was
still more important, he came into relations with a man
who at this juncture was destined to be of great service to
America. This was Beaumarchais, mechanician and mer
chant, orator and financier, writer and politician. Above
all, Beaumarchais was the child of his time, the author of
"The Barber of Seville," the creator of "Figaro," which
played its part in preparing the way for what was to come.
As the child of his time, too, he was infected with the
spirit of change, filled with liberal views and hopes for
humanity, which were soon to mean many things besides
a philosophic temper of mind. So the American cause
appealed to him as Frenchman, speculator, adventurer, and
friend of humanity and progress. He saw Lee in London ;
is said to have gone there eight times for that purpose ;
and presently stood as the connecting link between the
ancient monarchy and the young republic of America.
Vergennes, pressing steadily toward action in behalf of
the revolting English colonies, was opposed in the Cabinet
by Turgot, who sympathized deeply with the American
cause, but rightly felt that France was in no condition to
face another war. With Turgot was Maurepas, and Ver
gennes could advance but slowly in his policy. Never
theless, he got something done. In May, 1776, he sent
$200,000 to the Americans, and persuaded Spain to do the
same. It was all effected very secretly through Beau
marchais, but still it was done.
Meantime, Congress was moving, too. In March,
1776, it appointed Silas Deane, a merchant of Connecti-

268 THE STORY OF THE REVOLUTION
cut, as agent and commissioner to France, to secretly
sound the government, and also to see wmat could be
done in Holland. Deane was an energetic, pushing man,
who rendered good service, but he was careless in making
contracts, was attacked and misrepresented by Lee, re
called from Europe, and being injudicious in his defence,
he dropped out of public life. Like Lee, however, he did
well in the early days. He reached France in July, 1776,
and was admitted on the nth to an interview with Ver-
gennes. On the 20th he obtained a promise of arms, and
again Beaumarchais was authorized to supply merchandise
to the value of three million livres. When the Declara
tion of Independence was known, Vergennes urged action
more strongly than ever, and Congress — now that the die
was cast — discussed the draft of a treaty with France, and,
what was far more important, appointed Franklin as a
commissioner with Deane and Lee to negotiate with the
French Government. Franklin reached Paris as the year
was drawing to a close, and was received with enthusiastic
warmth. He was known all over Europe, and especially
in France, where his reputation as a man of science and a
philosopher, as a writer and philanthropist, added to his
fame as a public man, made him as popular and admired
as he was distinguished. His coming changed the com
plexion of affairs and gave a seriousness to the negotiations
which they had lacked before. Public sympathy, too, was
awakened, and Lafayette, young and enthusiastic, prepared
to depart at his own expense to serve as a volunteer in
the cause of liberty. So, too, went De Kalb, and a little
later, Pulaski ; and then Kosciusko, together with a crowd
of less desirable persons who saw in the American war a
field for adventure.

THE RESULTS OF SARATOGA 269
On December 28th Franklin was received by Ver-
gennes and greatly encouraged by him. The opposition
in the Cabinet was giving way, and although nothing
could be done with Spain, despite the efforts of Ver-
gennes to make her act with France, American affairs
were moving smoothly and propitiously. Then came the
news of the defeats on the Hudson, and everything was
checked. It seemed, after all, as if it was not such a seri
ous matter, as if England had but to exert herself to put
an end to it, and so there was a general drawing- back.
France stopped on the way to a treaty and refused to do
anything leading to war. She continued to secretly ad
vance money, sent ships with arms, and allowed American
privateers in her ports, but beyond this she would not go,
and all the popularity and address of Franklin were for
the time vain.
But as the months wore away, the attention of Europe
was fixed on the northern campaign which was to break
the colonies and crush the rebellion. Before the year
closed, the news of Saratoga had crossed the Atlantic. It
was received in England with consternation. Lord North
was overwhelmed. He saw that it meant a French alli
ance, the loss of the colonies, perhaps French conquests.
He went as far as he could in framing conciliatory propo
sitions, and appointed a commission to take them to
America — but it was all too late. As Washington said,
an acknowledged independence was now the only possible
peace. The King, who was not clever like Lord North,
failed to see the meaning of Saratoga, and was ready to
face a world in arms rather than yield to rebels. In Eng
land, therefore, Burgoyne's surrender brought nothing but
abortive concessions, which two years earlier would have

270 THE STORY OF THE REVOLUTION
settled everything, and fresh preparations for a struggle
fast drawing into hopelessness.
In France the result was widely different. Paris heard
the tidings of Saratoga with joy, and Vergennes received
the commissioners on December 12th. He made no se
cret of his pleasure in the news which sustained the posi
tion he had taken, and he also understood, what very few
at that moment comprehended, the immense importance
and meaning of Washington's stubborn fighting with
Howe while the northern victories were being won. On
December 20th Franklin and Deane were informed that
the King would acknowledge the colonies and support
their cause. On February 6th two treaties were made
between France and the United States, one of amity and
commerce, and the other an eventual treaty of defensive
alliance. On March 20th the American commissioners
were at Versailles and were presented to the King, and on
the 22d they were received by Marie Antoinette. On
April ioth Gerard was sent as Minister to the United
States, and the alliance was complete. England, formally
notified of the treaties, accepted them as an act of war.
Burgoyne's surrender had done its work, and France had
cast her sword into the scale against England. The men
who had fought side by side with British soldiers,, and
gloried in the winning of Canada, were now united with
the French, whom they had then helped to conquer, in the
common purpose of tearing from the empire of Britain
the fairest and greatest part of her colonial dominion.
The English Ministers and the English King, who had
made such a situation possible by sheer blundering may
well have looked with wonder at the work of their hands.
The diplomacy of the Americans was as fortunate as

THE RESULTS OF SARATOGA 271
their conduct of the original controversy with the mother-
country. Almost everywhere they secured a reception
which assured them, if not actual support, at least a be
nevolent neutrality. Russia refused troops to England
and manifested a kindly interest in the new States. Hol
land, who had herself fought her way to freedom, and could
not forget her kindred in the New World, not only refused
to give troops to George III., but openly sympathized
with the rebels, and later lent them money, for all which
she was to suffer severely at the hands of England. The
northern powers stood aloof and neutral. Austria sym
pathized slightly, but did nothing. Spain, despite the
pressure of Vergennes, could not be stirred, and Lee's
expedition to Burgos, where he met Grimaldi, in the win
ter of 1776-77, bore no fruit. Lee, who was not lacking
in zeal and energy, also went to Berlin. He was well
received there by Frederick, who looked with unfeigned
contempt on the blundering of his cousin George, and pre
dicted the success of the colonies, but who would not at
that moment engage himself in the controversy. While
Lee wTas in Berlin, the British Minister, Elliott, hired a
thief for one thousand guineas to break into the American
Envoy's room and steal his papers. Lee recovered the
papers on complaining to the police, but this unusual
diplomatic performance caused Frederick to refuse to see
Elliott, to enter on his Cabinet record that the act of the
British Minister was " a public theft," and to increase the
kindness and consideration with which he treated Lee.
On the whole, the diplomacy of the new-born nation
was highly successful. The American representatives
made a good impression wherever they appeared, and
turned to excellent account the unpopularity of England.

272 THE STORY OF THE REVOLUTION
They soon satisfied themselves that they had nothing to
fear from Europe and much to hope which cleared the
ground and enabled the United States to face the future
with the knowledge that England could look for no aid
against them outside her own resources. They were des
tined to get much more from Europe than this- negative
assurance ; but the beginning was well made. The scene
of their greatest efforts was, of course, in France, and
there they attained to the height of their desires on the
strength of Burgoyne's surrender. Congress, appreciating
more and more the work to be done abroad, sent out John
Adams to replace Deane. He arrived after the signing of
the treaties, but his coming was most fortunate, for Frank
lin's colleagues were disposed to be jealous of him and to
intrigue against him. As so often happens, they were in
ferior men, who could not understand why the superior
man was looked up to as the real leader. But no jealousy
could obscure the facts. Franklin was the hero of the
hour and the admired of Court and city. His simple
ways, his strong and acute intellect, his keen humor, his
astute diplomacy, all standing out against the background
of his scientific fame, appealed strongly to Frenchmen and
to the mood of the hour. Statesmen listened to him re
spectfully, the great ladies of the brilliant and frivolous
Court flattered and admired him, the crowds cheered him
in the streets, and when the Academy received Voltaire,
the audience, comprising all that was most distinguished
in arts and letters, demanded that he and Franklin should
erribrace each other in their presence.
The first impulse is to laugh at those two old men,
worn with experience and wise with much knowledge of
the world, sceptics both in their different ways, solemnly

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From the Painting by Duplessis, 1778, in the Pennsylvania Academy of Pine Arts, Philadelphia. Owned by Dr. Clifford P. Snyder
Paris, France.
THE RESULTS OF SARATOGA 275
kissing each other amid the excited plaudits of that brill
iant assemblage. It seems almost impossible not to imag
ine that the keen sense of humor which both possessed in
such a high degree should not have been kindled as the
wrinkled, withered face of Voltaire drew near to that of
Franklin, smooth, simple-looking, and benevolent, with
the broad forehead arching over the cunning, penetrating
eyes. Yet this, if the most obvious, is also the superficial
view. Both actors and audience took the whole ceremony
with seriousness and emotion, and they were right to do so,
for there is a deep significance in that famous scene of the
Academy. Voltaire's course was run, while Franklin had
many years of great work still before him ; but both were
children of the century ; both represented the great move
ment of the time for intellectual and political freedom,
then beginning to culminate. Franklin, although he had
passed the age of the Psalmist, represented also the men
who were even then trying to carry into practice what
Voltaire had taught, and to build anew on the ground
which he had cleared. Voltaire stood above all else for
the spirit which destroyed in order to make room for bet
ter things. If Cervantes laughed Spain's chivalry away,
Voltaire's sneering smile had shattered faiths, beliefs, and
habits which for centuries had lain at the very foundation
of government and society. Revolutions in thought are
not made with rose-water, any more than other revolu
tions, and Voltaire had spared nothing. His wonderful
intellect, as versatile as it was ingenious, had struck at
everything that was accepted. The most sacred beliefs
and the darkest superstitions, the foulest abuses and the
noblest traditions, had all alike shrivelled beneath his
satire, quivered under his scorn, and shrunk from his ridi-

276 THE STORY OF THE REVOLUTION
cule. Those that deserved to live survived it all to bloom
again. Those that deserved to die perished beneath the
blight. He had mocked at religion until scepticism had
become fashionable, and the Church itself was laughed at
and disregarded. He had sneered at governments and
rulers and courts, until all reverence for them had de
parted. He had lashed the optimism of those who pos
sessed the earth, until their doctrines appeared a hideous
sham, and the miseries of men the only realities. He was
the destroyer without whom the deep abuses of the time
could never have been reached or remedied. But he
offered nothing, and men cannot live on negations. As
he cleared the ground, other men rose up seeking to re
place the ruined and lost ideals with new and better hopes.
If mankind was miserable, there must be some cure. If
governments were bad, and kings and courts evil, they
must be replaced by the people whom they ruled and
oppressed. If the Church was a fraud, and religion a
superstition, salvation must be found in the worship of
humanity. In France, bankrupt, oppressed, misgoverned, and yet
the intellectual centre of Europe, this great movement
came to full life. It was there that the old dykes had
been broken and the rushing tide of new thought had
poured in. There Voltaire had swept men from their old
moorings, and there Rousseau and many others were
dreaming dreams and seeing visions of the regeneration of
mankind. Suddenly, into this society fermenting with
new ideas and preparing, all unconsciously, for armed rev
olution, came the news of the American revolt. Here,
then, it seemed were men 3,000 miles away who were
actually trying, in a practical, tangible manner, to do that

THE RESULTS OF SARATOGA 277
very thing about which the intellect and the imagination
of France were reasoning and dreaming. Thus the Amer
ican appeal thrilled through this great and brilliant French
society which seemed on the surface so remote from the
fishers and choppers and ploughmen, who, far away on
the verge of the wilderness, were trying to constitute a
state. The ministers and statesmen, dealing with facts,
instructed as to precedents, and blind to the underlying
forces, saw in the revolt of the American Colonies an op
portunity to cripple England and thus reduce their enemy
and rival. They saw correctly so far as they saw at all.
France sustained the colonies, and the British Empire was
broken. But they did not see what lay beyond ; they did
not understand that they were paving the way for the
overthrow of monarchies other than that which ruled
North America ; nor was it in the deeper sense due to
them that France became the ally of the United States.
They were borne along by a mightier force than any
thing they had ever known, and of which they had no real
conception. The King, with a mental capacity sufficient
only for a good locksmith, had a dumb animal instinct of
race which made him dislike the whole American policy.
He received Franklin coldly, almost gruffly, and yielded
reluctantly to his Ministers. Yet he, too, was driven
along by a force as irresistible as it was unseen, which fi
nally having broken all bounds swept him to the prison
and the scaffold. Louis's royal instinct was entirely right
so far as he was concerned, and much truer than the judg
ment of his keen and well-instructed Ministers. Kings
had no business to be backing up revolted colonists, for
the cause of America was the cause of the people against
all kings. It was for this very reason that it appealed not

278 THE STORY OF THE REVOLUTION
only to the intellect of France, which had thrown down
the old beliefs and was seeking a new creed, but to the
French people, who were beginning to stir blindly and
ominously with a sense of their wrongs and their power.
This was why the American cry for aid aroused the en
thusiasm and the sympathy of France. The democratic
movement, still hidden in the shadows and the depths, but
none the less beginning to move and live in France, recog
nized, instinctively, the meaning of the same movement
which had started into full life in America with arms in
its hand. This was the deep, underlying cause of the
French alliance when the surrender of Burgoyne said, not
merely to Ministers intent on policy, but to a nation with
visions in its brain, here is an armed people, not only
fighting for the rights of man, but fighting victoriously,
and bringing to wreck and extinction a King's army which
had been sent against them.

CHAPTER XII
FABIUS
THE intimate connection between the northern cam
paign against Burgoyne and that conducted at
the same time by the main army, under Wash
ington, has been too much overlooked. If the English
army in the south had been able or ready to push forward
to Albany at all hazards, nothing could have stayed the
success of Burgoyne and the consequent control by the
British of the line of the Hudson. Lord George Ger
main's pigeon-holed order and country visits counted for
something in delaying any British movement from New
York ; but if the main army had been free and unchecked,
not even tardy orders or the dulness of Howe and Clinton
would have prevented an effective advance in full force up
the Hudson instead of the abortive raid of a comparatively
small detachment. The reason that relief did not reach
Burgoyne from the south was simply that the British army
there was otherwise engaged and could not come. Wash
ington had entire confidence, after the British reached Ti
conderoga, that the whole expedition would end in failure
and defeat. He was confident, because he understood all
the conditions thoroughly. He had been a backwoods
fighter in his youth, he had seen Braddock routed, in the
midst of that disaster he had saved the remnants of the
279

280 THE STORY OF THE REVOLUTION
shattered, panic-stricken army, and he knew that the people
of New England and New York, rising in defence of their
homes, and backed by the wilderness, wrould sooner or later
destroy any regular army with a distant base and long com
munications. For this success there was only one abso
lutely indispensable condition : no army from the south
must be allowed to meet the invaders from the north.
That they should not, depended on him, and hence his
confidence in Schuyler's measures and in the ultimate de
struction of Burgoyne. Yet the task before him was a
severe one, in reality far graver and more difficult than
that wrought out so bravely and well by the people of the
north. Washington, in the first and chief place, had no wilder
ness as an ally. He was facing the principal English army,
better equipped, better disciplined, much more numerous
than his own, and operating in a settled country and over
good roads. His enemy controlled the sea, and a seaport
was their base of supplies. They therefore had no long
line of communications, were not obliged, and could not
be compelled, to live off the country, were in no danger
of starvation, and were quartered in towns where a large
proportion of the inhabitants were loyal to the crown.
Washington's problem was to hold the main British army
where they were and make it impossible for them to march
north while the season permitted. This he had to do by
sheer force of his own skill and courage with a half-formed,
half-drilled army, an inefficient government behind him,
and meagre and most uncertain resources. To succeed,
he had to hold his army together at all hazards, and
keep the field, so that the British would never dare to
march north and leave him in their rear. In order to ac-

FABIUS 281
complish this result he would have to fight again and again,
keep the enemy in check, employ them, delay them, con
sume time, and no matter what reverses might befall him,
never suffer a defeat to become a rout, or permit his army
to break and lose its spirit. The story of the campaign of
1777 on the northern border has been told. The way in
which Washington dealt with his own problem and faced
his difficulties is the story of the other campaign which
went on all through that same spring and summer in the
Middle States, and upon which the fate of Burgoyne so
largely turned.
After his victory at Princeton, at the beginning of the
year, Washington withdrew to Morristown, and there re
mained in winter quarters until May. Plis militia, as
usual, left him as their terms of enlistment expired, his
army at times was reduced almost to a shadow, but still he
kept his ground and maintained his organization, which
was the one great problem of the winter. In the spring
the needed levies came in, and Washington at once took
the field and occupied a strong position at Middlebrook.
Howe came out from Brunswick, looked at the American
position, decided that it was too strong to be forced, and
withdrew to Amboy. He made another effort when he
heard the American army was at Quibbletown, but Wash
ington eluded him, and Howe then passed over to Staten
Island and abandoned New Jersey entirely.
Washington saw so plainly what the British ought to
do that he supposed Howe would surely make every sacri
fice to unite with Burgoyne and would direct all his ener
gies to that end. He therefore expected him to move at
once up the Hudson, and accordingly advanced himself to
Ramapo, so that he might be within striking distance of

282 THE STORY OF THE REVOLUTION
New York ; for he was determined at all costs to prevent
the junction with Burgoyne, which he knew was the one
vital point of the campaign. For six weeks he remained
in ignorance of Howe's intentions, but at last, on July
24th, he learned that Howe had sailed with the bulk of
the army, and that the entire fleet was heading to the
south. Thereupon he marched toward Philadelphia, but
hearing that the fleet had been seen off the capes of the
Delaware and had then been lost sight of, he concluded
that Howe was bound for Charleston, and made up his
mind to return to New York, as he felt that the troops
still there would certainly be used to reach Burgoyne, if
the American army on any pretext could be drawn away.
He had not entirely fathomed, however, the intelligence
of the British commanders. That which was clear to him
as the one thing to be done, had not occupied Howe's mind
at all. He was not thinking of Burgoyne, did not under
stand the overwhelming importance of that movement, and
had planned to take Philadelphia from the south, having
failed to get Washington out of his path in New Jersey.
So when he sailed he was making for Philadelphia, an im
portant town, but valueless in a military point of view at
that particular juncture. Definite news that the British
were in the Chesapeake reached Washington just in time
to prevent his return to New York, and he at once set out
to meet the enemy. His task at last was clear to him.
If possible, he must save Philadelphia, and if that could
not be done, at least he must hold Howe there, and stop
his going north after the capture of the city. He there
fore marched rapidly southward, and passed through Phila
delphia, to try to encourage by his presence the loyal, and
chill the disaffected in that divided town. The intention

FABIUS

283

was excellent, but it is to be feared that his army could
not have made a very gratifying or deep impression. The
troops were ill-armed, poorly clothed, and so nearly des
titute of uniforms, that the soldiers were forced to wear
sprigs of green in their hats in order to give themselves

^¦6

WASHINGTONS HEAD-QUARTERS, NEAR CHADS FORD, AT THE TIME OF
THE BATTLE OF THE BRANDYWINE.

some slight appearance of identity in organization and pur
pose. Nevertheless, poorly as they looked, their spirit
was good ; they meant to fight, and when Washington
halted south of Wilmington, he sent forward Maxwell's
corps and then waited the coming of the enemy.
Howe having lingered six weeks in New York, with no

284 THE STORY OF THE REVOLUTION
apparent purpose, had consumed another precious month
in his voyage, and did not finally land his men until
August 25th. This done, he advanced slowly along the
Elk, and it was September 3d when he reached Aitken's
Tavern, and encountered Maxwell, who was driven back
after a sharp skirmish. Howe pressed on, expecting to
take the Americans at a disadvantage, but Washington

r--<>

LAFAYETTE'S HEAD-QUARTERS,
NEAR CHAD'S FORD, DURING
THE BATTLE OF THE BRAN
DYWINE.

slipped away from him and took a strong and advantage
ous position at Chad's Ford on the Brandywine, where
he determined to make a stand and risk a battle, although
he had only 11,000 effective men, and Howe had brought
18,000 from New York. Possessing the advantage of
position, he had a chance to win, and he meant to take
every chance. With the main army he held Chad's Ford ;
the lower fords were held by the Pennsylvania militia on

Many of the An

BATTLE OF THE BRANDYWINE,
¦cans were unskilled militia, but they repelled charge after charge of the infantry, chasseurs, and grenadiers.

FABIUS

287

the left, while Sullivan, in command of the right wing, was
to guard those above the main army. This important
work Sullivan failed to do, or did imperfectly, and from
this failure came defeat. On the nth, Knyphausen, with
7,000 men, came to Chad's Ford and made a feint of

BIRMINGHAM MEETING-HOUSE. NEAR CHADS FORD.
Ola Quaker meeting-house used as a hospital during the battle of the Erandyloine, and to which Lafayette was
carried when wounded

crossing. Meantime, Cornwallis and Howe, with an
equally strong column, marched north, and then swinging
to the east around the forks of the Brandywine, crossed at
the unguarded fords. At noon Washington heard of
Cornwallis's movement, and with quick instinct deter
mined to fall upon Knyphausen in his front and crush
him. He had indeed begun to cross the stream, when

288 THE STORY OF THE REVOLUTION
word came from Sullivan that he had been assured by
Major Spear, who had been on the other side of the riv
er, that Cornwallis was not advancing, as reported. This
blundering message made Washington draw back his men
and relinquish his attack on Knyphausen, and meantime
the battle was lost. Sullivan, indeed, could hardly have
sent off his fatal misinformation before the British were
upon him. He made a brave stand, but he was outnum
bered and outflanked, and his division was routed. Wash
ington hearing firing, made rapidly toward the right wing,
where, meeting the fugitives, he ordered Greene forward,
who with great quickness brought up his division and sup
ported the broken right wing, so that they were able to
withdraw to a narrow defile, where they made good their
ground until nightfall. At Chad's Ford, Wayne held
Knyphausen in check until assured of the disaster to the
right wing, and then drew off in good order and joined
the main army at Chester. The battle had been lost
through obvious faults on the American side, although
Washington's dispositions were excellent. If he had
crossed when he started to do so, and fallen upon Knyp
hausen with a superior force at that point, he would have
won his fight, even if Sullivan had been crushed. Every
thing in fact was ruined by the carelessness which caused
Sullivan to leave unguarded the fords, of which he did
not know, but of which he should have known, and by
the blundering message which prevented Washington
from attacking Knyphausen. Nevertheless, it is a griev
ous error in war to be misinformed, and it shows that the
scouting was poor and the General badly served by his
outposts. These grave faults came, of course, from the
rawness of the army and the lack of proper organization,

FABIUS

289

yet it must be admitted that even in an army recently
levied, such misinformation as Sullivan sent to Washing- to
ton seems unpardonable.
Still, despite the defeat,
it is easy to perceive a
decided improvement
since the defeat at Long
Island for, although Sul
livan's men showed some
unsteadiness, the army as
a whole behaved well.
The American loss was
over a thousand, the Brit
ish five hundred and sev
enty-nine, but there was
no panic, and no rout.
Washington had his army
well in hand that night,
marched the next morn
ing from Chester to Ger-
mantown, then recrossed
the Schuylkill at Swedes'
Fort and moving in a westerly direction along the old Lan
caster road on September 16th faced Howe near West
Chester, ready to fight again. Skirmishing, in fact, had act
ually begun, when a violent storm came up and so wet the
ammunition on both sides that the firing ceased, and Wash
ington was compelled to withdraw for fresh supplies. He
left Wayne behind, who got in the rear of the British ad
vancing along the west bank of the river and who wrote
Washington that a terrible mistake had been made in re-
crossing the Schuylkill, as a fatal blow might have been
Vol. I. — ig

BARON KNYPHAUSEN, COMMANDER Ot-
THE HESSIANS IN THE WAR BETWEEN
ENGLAND AND THE UNITED STATES.
From a drawing, the original of w/tich is in the pos
session of the Knyphausen family. The reproduction is
from a photograph of the drawing, owned by the Historical
Society of Pennsylvania.

290 THE STORY OF THE REVOLUTION
struck if he had only remained. Wayne sent this opinion
off, supposing that the British were ignorant of his own
position. Unfortunately they were not, and on the night
of the 20th, General Grey surprised him in his camp at
Paoli, where the Americans lost one hundred and fifty
men. By courage and presence of mind, Wayne escaped
with his cannon and the rest of his men, but with his
division much broken by the shock. Coming on top of
the defeat at the Brandywine, and due to overconfidence
and also again to lack of proper information, this unfort
unate affair was not inspiriting to the general tone of the
army. Howe, on his side, after disposing of Wayne, made a
feint which caused Washington to march up the river to
protect his stores at Reading, and then turning, went
straight on to Philadelphia. He reached Germantown on
the 25th, and the next morning Cornwallis marched into
Philadelphia with 3,000 men and took possession of the
town. Congress, or whatever was left of it, had fled
some days before to Lancaster, but the townspeople re
mained. Some received the King's soldiers with loud
acclaim, most of them looked on in sullen silence, while
the British on their side behaved perfectly well and mo
lested nobody. Thus Howe smoothly and triumphantly
had achieved his purpose. He sent word to his brother in
command of the fleet that the city was won, started in
trenchments, and prepared to remove the obstructions and
forts by which the Americans still held the river. All in
deed had gone very well. The rebels had been beaten,
some of their detachments surprised, and their capital
taken. Howe thought the business was about over, and,
if he had been capable of the mental effort, may have

FABIUS 291
been considering a quick march to the north after his con
quest of the Middle States and a victorious junction with
Burgoyne. While he was making his preparations to
clear the river, he kept his main army in Germantown
quietly and comfortably, and there on the early morning
of October 4th he suddenly heard firing, and riding out,
met his light infantry running. He expressed his surprise
at their conduct, and then rode back to his main line, for
he found a general action had begun. It seemed that the
beaten rebels did not understand that they were beaten,
but were upon him again, a piece of audacity for which he
was not prepared. Washington in fact had not only held
his army together after defeat, but had maintained it in
such good trim and spirits that, although inferior in num
bers, he was able to assume the aggressive and boldly
engage his enemy lying in nearly full force at German-
town. It was a well-planned attack and came within an
ace of complete success.
Sullivan, supported by Washington with the reserves,
was to make the main attack in front. The Pennsylvania
and New Jersey militia were to distract the enemy's atten
tion by demonstrations on the flanks, while Greene, taking
a wide sweep with a large force, was to come up from the
Limekiln road and strike the right wing of the British,
forcing them back toward the river. Sullivan waited two
hours to give Greene time to arrive, and then advanced.
At first all went well ; the morning was misty and the
British were surprised. The Americans drove the enemy
rapidly and in confusion before them, and were pressing on
to the centre of the town when some companies of Eng
lish soldiers opened fire from the Chew house, a large
stone building, upon the reserves, who were following

292

THE STORY OF THE REVOLUTION

Sullivan. Very unwisely they stopped and tried to take
the house, and then endeavored to burn it. Both attempts
not only failed but wasted time and lost men. They
should have pushed on, leaving a small body to watch the
house, instead of slackening as they did the momentum of

m

THE CHEW HOUSE, GERMANTOWN.

the first rush. Even this unlucky delay, however, would
not have been fatal if the attack from the east, which was
the key of Washington's plan, had succeeded. Greene,
however, was half an hour late, and then struck the enemy
sooner than he expected, and had his line broken. He
nevertheless reformed, kept on, and drove the British back,
but reinforcements coming up, he was forced to retreat.
Worse than this, one of his divisions going astray in the

THE ATTACK UPON THE CHEW HOUSE.
Tlie Continentals tried in vain to batter down the door, which was held in place by a heavy iron bar running across it. The officer upon the steps was of the Seventh Pennsylvania.
The one lying upon his face at the right of the picture, had been detailed to come forward with the flag of truce, demanding the surrender of the liouse. He ivas permitted to come close
to the house and then shot down beside the driveway.— Note by the artist.

FABIUS 295
fog, came up to the Chewr house and opened fire. There
upon Wayne supposing the enemy was in his rear drew
off, uncovering Sullivan's flank, and thus forced the lat
ter to retreat also. The British pursued, but were finally
stopped by Wayne's battery at Whitemarsh. The Ameri
can attack had failed and the army had been repulsed.
The causes of the defeat were the difficulties inseparable
from a plan requiring several detached movements, the
confusion caused by the thick mist, and the consequent
unsteadiness of the new troops. The fighting was sharp,
and the Americans lost 673 in killed and wounded, be
sides 400 made prisoners, while the British lost in killed
and wounded only 521. Nevertheless, although repulsed,
Washington had not fought in vain. He had shown his
ability to assume the offensive immediately after a defeat,
and this not only had a good effect at home, but weighed
very greatly with Vergennes, who saw the meaning of a
battle under such circumstances more clearly than those
actually on the scene of action.
Moreover, Washington had brought off his army again
in good spirits, with courage and confidence restored, and
still held the field so strongly that Howe, despite his vic
tories, found himself practically besieged, with provisions
running short. He could not move by land, and it there
fore became a matter of life and death to open the Del
aware River so that the fleet could come up to his relief.
Accordingly, on October 19th, he withdrew from Ger
mantown to Philadelphia, forced to do so by Washing
ton's operations despite the repulse of the Americans, and
turned his whole attention to the destruction of the de
fences of the Delaware. These defences consisted of two
' unfinished works : Fort Mifflin on an island in the Schuyl-

296 THE STORY OF THE REVOLUTION
kill, and Fort Mercer at Red Bank in New Jersey. Be
tween these points the channel was blocked and the block
ade defended by a flotilla of small boats commanded by
Commodore Hazlewood and by some larger vessels built for
Congress. The British fleet forced the obstructions below
and came nearly up to Fort Mifflin on October 21st. The
next day Count Donop with 2,500 Hessians attacked Fort
Mercer, held by Colonel Greene with 600 men. Their first
assault was repulsed with heavy loss. The British forces
were to have been supported by the fleet, but Hazlewood
beat off the vessels sent against him, and drawing in near
shore, opened on the flank of the Hessians. Donop ral
lied his men and led them again and again to the attack,
but they were met by such a murderous fire that they gave
way, and Donop himself was mortally wounded and made
a prisoner. The Hessians lost over four hundred men,
the Americans thirty-five. Two British vessels also went
aground, were attacked by the Americans, set on fire and
blown up. The defence was admirably conducted, and
the whole affair was one of the best fought actions of
the war.
This attempt to carry the American redoubts by a
simple rush had thus not only failed but had resulted in
heavy slaughter. Even Howe saw that he must take
more deliberate measures to attain his end. He accord
ingly erected batteries on the Pennsylvania shore, which
reached Fort Mifflin with most serious effect. Men-of-
war at the same time came up and opened fire on the
other side. For five days the three hundred men held
out, and then, most of their officers being killed or
wounded, their ammunition nearly exhausted, their guns
dismounted, they abandoned the heap of ruins which they

THE REPULSE OF THE HESSIANS UNDER COUNT DONOP AT FORT MERCER.
Donop rallied his ?nen and led t/iem again and again to the attack, but t/tey were met by such a murderous fire
that they gave way, and Do?wp was mortally wounded.

FABIUS 299
had defended so well, and on the night of November 15th
crossed over to Red Bank. This fort, now isolated, was
menaced in the rear by Cornwallis, and before General
Greene could reach it with relief, the garrison were ob
liged to retreat and leave its empty walls to be destroyed.
The defence of these two posts had been altogether admi
rable, and had served an important purpose in occupying
the British General, besides costing him, all told, some six
hundred men and two vessels.
Nevertheless, Howe was at last in possession of Phila
delphia, the object of his campaign, and with his com
munications by water open. He had consumed four
months in this business since he left New York, three
months since he landed near the Elk River. His prize,
now that he had got it, was worth less than nothing in a
military point of view, and he had been made to pay a
high price for it, not merely in men, but in precious time,
for while he was struggling sluggishly for Philadelphia,
Burgoyne, who really meant something very serious, had
gone to wreck and sunk out of sight in the northern for
ests. Indeed, Howe did not even hold his dearly bought
town in peace, for after the fall of the forts, Greene, aided
by Lafayette, who had joined the army on its way to the
Brandywine, made a sharp dash and broke up an outly
ing party of Hessians. Such things were intolerable, they
interfered with personal comfort, and they emanated from
the American army which Washington had now estab
lished in strong lines at Whitemarsh. So Howe an
nounced that in order to have a quiet winter, he would
drive Washington beyond the mountains. Howe did not
often display military intelligence, but that he was pro
foundly right in this particular intention must be admitted.

3Q0 THE STORY OF THE REVOLUTION

In pursuit of his plan, therefore, he marched out of Phila>
delphia on December 4th, drove off some Pennsylvania
militia on the 5th, considered
the American position for
four days, did not dare to at
tack, could not draw his op
ponent out, returned to the
city, and left Washington to
go into winter quarters at
Valley Forge, whence he
could easily strike if any
move was made by the Brit
ish army.
Not the least difficult of
Washington's achievements
was this same refusal to
come down and fight Howe
at Whitemarsh. He had
been anxious to do so some
time before, for it was part
of his nature to fight harxi and at every opportunity.
Yet when Howe marched against him at this juncture he
refused, and the strength of his position was such that the
British felt it would be certain defeat to attack. The
country, with its head turning from the victory over Bur
goyne, was clamoring for another battle. Comparisons
were made between Washington and Gates, grotesque
as such an idea seems now, much to the former's disad
vantage, and the defeats of Brandywine and Germantown
were contrasted bitterly with the northern victories. Mur
murs could be heard in the Congress, which had been
forced to fly from their comfortable quarters by the arrival

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LAFAYETTE.
From a portrait painted by C. W. Peale, in 1780,
for Washington. Now owjied by General G. W. C Lee,
Lexington, Va.
FABIUS

301

of the victorious enemy in Philadelphia. John Adams,
one of the ablest and most patriotic of men, but with a
distinct capacity for honest envy, discoursed excitedly
about Washington's failures and Gates's successes. He
knew nothing of military affairs, but as Sydney Smith said
of Lord John Russell, he would have been ready to take
command of the Channel Fleet on a day's notice, and so

THE OLD POTTS HOUSE AT VALLEY FORGE USED BY WASHINGTON AS
HEA D-QUAR TERS .
Now a revolutionary museum.
he decided and announced, in his impetuous way, the great
ness of Gates, whose sole merit was that he was not able
to prevent Burgoyne's defeat, growled at the General-in-
Chief, who had saved the Revolution, and sneered at him
as a " Fabius."
Washington knew all these things. He heard the
clamors from the country, and they fell in with his own
instincts and desires. He was quite aware of the com-

302 THE STORY OF THE REVOLUTION
parisons with Gates and of the murmurings and criticism
in Congress. Yet he went his way unmoved. He weak
ened himself to help the northern army, for he understood,
as no one else then did, the crucial character of Burgoyne's
expedition. When the news of the surrender at Saratoga
came to him, his one word was devout gratitude for the
victory he had expected. But no comparisons, no sneers,
no rivalry could make him move from the lines at White
marsh. If Howe would attack him where victory was
certain, well and good, but on the edge of winter he wTould
take no risk of defeat. He must hold the army together
and keep it where it could check every movement of the
enemy. The conquerors of Burgoyne might disperse to
their homes, but the Continental Army must always be
ready and in the field, for when it ceased to be so, the
American Revolution was at an end. Hence the strong
lines at Whitemarsh, as memorable in Washington's ca
reer as the lines of Torres Vedras in that of Wellington.
Hence the refusal to fight except on a certainty, a great
refusal, as hard to give as anything Washington ever did.
Hence, finally, the failure of Howe to drive his enemy
" beyond the mountains," and his retirement to Philadel
phia to sleep away the winter while the American Revolu
tion waited by his side, ready to strike the moment he
waked and stirred.
Washington had thus saved his army from the peril of
defeat without lowering their spirit by retreating. He
had stood ready to fight on his own terms, and had seen
his opponent withdraw, baffled, to the city, whence it was
reasonably certain he would not come forth again until a
pleasanter season. So much was accomplished, but a still
worse task remained. He had, it is true, his army in good

FABIUS

303

spirit and fair numbers, but he had to keep it through a
hard winter, where it would hold Howe in check, and to
maintain its life and strength without resources or equip
ment and with an inefficient and carping Congress for his
only support.
Valley Forge was the place selected for the winter
camp. From a military stand-point it was excellent, being

VIEW FROM FORT HUNTINGTON
WITH A PLAN OF THE INTRENCHMENTS REMAIN
ING AT VALLEY FORGE.
The view is from Fort Huntington looking toward Fort Washington, which lies at the end of the whit
road in the cut between the hills. The line of the main intrenchments is marked by tlie trees on the summit
of the hill. The plan is made to correspond with the view regardless of the points of the compass, north being
at the bottom of the plan.
both central and easily defended. Critics at the time
found fault with it because it was a wilderness with
wooded hills darkening the valley on either side. The
military purpose, however, was the one to be first consid
ered, and it may be doubted if the army would have found
any better quarters elsewhere, unless they had cooped
themselves up in some town where they would have been
either too distant for prompt action or an easy mark for

304 THE STORY OF THE REVOLUTION
attack. But, whether due to military expediency or not,
the story of Valley Forge is an epic of slow suffering
silently borne, of patient heroism, and of a very bright and
triumphant outcome, when the gray days, the long nights,
and the biting frost fled together. The middle of Decem
ber in the North American woods ; no shelter, no provi-
T fy^DiJ. d~2> i7-/-^
do acknowledge the U N 1 1 E D Sfi A T<£ S of A M E-
R I C A to be Free, Independent and Sovereign States, and
declare that the people thereof owe no allegiance or obe
dience to George the Third, King of Great-Britain ; and I
renounce, refufe and abjure any allegiance or obedience to
him j and I do ^i^-<.e^^~ that I will, to the ut-
moft of my power, fupport, maintain and defend the faid
United States againft the faid King George the Third, his
heirs and fucceflbrs, and his or their abettors, affiftants and
adherents,and will fcrve the faid United States in the office of
*sfy-Mer*- yvriJLsreJL which I now hold, -with
fidelity, irccordUig to the beft of my fkill and understanding.
A^rr*-* G<Jirt-<' -m**~9%t* tffy

THE OATH OF ALLEGIANCE TO THE UNITED STATES, SIGNED BY BENE
DICT ARNOLD AT VALLEY FORGE, 1778.
sions, no preparations ; such were the conditions of Val
ley Forge when the American army first came there.
Two weeks of hard work, and huts were built and ar
ranged in streets ; this heavy labor being done on a diet of
flour mixed with water and baked in cakes, with scarcely
any meat or bread. At night the men huddled around the
fires to keep from freezing. Few blankets, few coverings,

FABIUS

305

many soldiers without shoes, "wading naked in Decem
ber's snows" — such were the attributes of Valley Forge
By the new year the huts were
done, the streets laid out, and
the army housed, with some
three thousand men unfit for
duty, frostbitten, sick, and
hungry. They had shelter, but
that was about all. The coun
try had been swept so bare by
the passage of contending ar
mies that even straw to lie
upon was hard to get, and the
cold, uncovered ground often
had to serve for a sleeping-
place. Provisions were scarce,
and hunger was added to the
pain of cold. Sometimes the
soldiers went for days without
meat — sometimes without any food, Lafayette tells us, mar
velling at the endurance and courage of the men. There is
often famine in the camp, writes Hamilton, a man not
given to exaggeration. " Famine," a gaunt, ugly fact,
with a savage reality to those who met it, and looked it
in the eyes, although little understood by excellent gentle
men in Congress and elsewhere. Then the horses had
died in great numbers, and in consequence transportation
was difficult, enhancing the labor of hauling firewood.
Cold, hunger, nakedness, unending toil ; it is a singular
proof of the devotion and patriotism of the American sol
dier that he bore all these sufferings and came through
them loyally and victoriously. We are told that, tried
Vol. I. — 20

OLD BELL USED IN THE CAMP
AT VALLEY FORGE.

306 THE STORY OF THE REVOLUTION
sometimes almost beyond the power of endurance, the
men were more than once on the verge of mutiny and
general desertion. But neither desertion nor mutiny
came, and if contemplated, they were prevented by the
influence of the officers, and most of all by that of the
chief officer, whose patient courage, warm sympathy, and
indomitable spirit inspired all the army.
And what was the Government, what was Congress
doing, while against a suffering much worse than many
battles their army was thus upholding the cause of the
Revolution ? They were carping and fault-finding, and
while leaders like Samuel and John Adams and Richard
Henry Lee criticised, lesser men rebelled and plotted
against the Commander-in-Chief. Mr. Clark, of New
Jersey, thought Washington threatened popular rights be
cause he was obliged to take strong measures to feed his
army, and because he insisted that the people in the Mid
dle States should take the oath of allegiance to the United
States, after tampering with the British amnesty, so that
by this proper test he might know friend from foe. Mr.
Clark forgot that with a Congress which Gouverneur
Morris said had depreciated as much as the currency, it
was necessary for the most constitutional Fabius to be dic
tator as well as " Cunctator." Then James Lovell and
others thought it would be well to supplant Washington
with the alleged conqueror of Burgoyne, and Gates, slow
and ineffective in battle, but sufficiently active in looking
after his own advancement, thought so too, and willingly
lent himself to their schemes.
This party in Congress found some allies in the army.
One of the evils which Washington had to meet, and in
regard to which he was obliged to oppose Congress and to

WINTER AT VALLEY FORGE.
The relief-

FABIUS 309
do some pretty plain speaking, related to the foreign vol
unteers. Some of them were men like Lafayette, brave,
loyal, capable, and full of a generous enthusiasm, or like
De Kalb and Pulaski, good active soldiers, or like Steu
ben, officers of the highest training and capacity. To such
men Washington gave not only encouragement, but his
confidence and affection. Most of those, however, who
flocked to America were what Washington bluntly called
them, "hungry adventurers," soldiers out of work, who
came not from love of the cause, but for what they could
get in personal profit from the war. Deane had already
been lavish with commissions to these people, and Con
gress, in the true colonial spirit, proceeded to shower
rank upon them merely because they were foreigners,
without regard either to merit or to the effect of their
action. Already there had been serious trouble from the
manner in which Congress had appointed and promoted
native officers without reference to the wishes of the Com
mander-in-Chief or to the military situation, which they
comprehended very imperfectly. But their policy in
regard to foreigners was much worse, and meant the
utter demoralization both of organization and discipline.
Washington, who was not colonial in the slightest degree,
simply because he was too great a man to be so, and who
judged foreigners as he did all men, solely upon their mer
its, at once saw the mischief of the Congressional practice,
interposed, checked, and stopped it. As a consequence,
much hostility arose among the " hungry adventurers" and
their friends and admirers ; so they all joined together in
their envy of the General, and began to weave a plot
against him. The leader of the movement was an Irish
adventurer named Conway, who is remembered in history

310 THE STORY OF THE REVOLUTION
solely by this intrigue against Washington. He desired
to be made a major-general at once. Washington ob
jected on grounds both general and particular, and said
that " Conway's merit and importance existed more in his
own imagination than in reality." Conway was rendered
furious by this plain-spoken opposition, and set himself to
work to secure both revenge and the gratification of his
own ambition. He turned to Gates as a leader, and one
of his letters in which he spoke of a "weak general and
bad counsellors " came to the knowledge of the Com
mander-in-Chief. This was absolute insubordination, and
Washington wrote a curt note to Conway, who tried to
apologize and then resigned, and also communicated with
Gates, who passed several months in trying to twist out of
his uncomfortable position while Washington held him
relentlessly to the point. This exposure only added fuel
to Conway's anger, and the intrigue to get control of
military affairs went on. The Conway party was strong
in Congress, where they succeeded in having the Board of
War enlarged, with Gates at the head of it, and Thomas
Mifflin, another opponent of Washington, a member.
This Board appointed Conway Inspector-General with the
rank of Major-General, a direct blow at Washington, and
Gates set himself to hampering the movements of the
Commander-in-Chief by refusing men, and offering to him
petty slights and affronts. They hoped in this way to
drive Washington to resign, but they little knew their
man. He had entered on the great struggle to win, and
neither reverses in the field nor intrigues in Congress could
swerve him from his course. He stood his ground with
out yielding a jot, he pursued Gates about the letter
from Conway which had exposed the purposes of their

FABIUS 311
faction, and kept him writhing and turning all winter.
He also received Conway with utter coldness and indiffer
ence when he visited the camp, which was very galling to
a gentleman who considered himself not only important
but dangerous. The plotters in short could make no im
pression upon Washington, and even while they plotted
against him, their schemes went to pieces, for they were
not strong enough in ability or character to be really for
midable. They failed in their plan for an invasion of
Canada, and, what was far worse, they broke down utterly
in the commissariat ; so that, although they could neither
frighten nor move Washington, they succeeded in starving
his soldiers and adding to their sufferings, something
which he felt far more keenly than any attacks upon him
self. The failures of the cabal, however, could not be con
cealed but soon became apparent to all men, even to a
committee of Congress when they visited Valley Forge.
Such confidence as had ever been given to the new Board
of War vanished, the members fell to quarrelling among
themselves and telling tales on each other, and the in
triguers and their party went to pieces. As spring drew
near, the end of the " Conway cabal " came. Wilkinson
resigned the secretaryship of the Board, Mifflin was put
under Washington's orders, Gates was sent to his com
mand in the north, and Conway, resigning in a pet, found
his resignation suddenly accepted. He then fought a duel
with General Cadwalader, a friend of the Commander-in-
Chief, was badly wounded, wrote a contrite note to Wash
ington, recovered and left the country. The cabal was
over and its author gone. Washington had withstood the
attack of envy and intrigue, and triumphed completely
without the slightest loss of dignity. It must have been a

312

THE STORY OF THE REVOLUTION

trying and harsh experience, and yet there were other
things happening at that very time which he felt far more.
He looked upon
his suffering men and
I knew that at that
moment, in Philadel
phia, the enemy were
warmly housed and
amply fed, amusing
themselves with balls,
dances, and theatrical
performances. The
bitter contrast
touched him to the
quick. Yet even then
the Legislature of
Pennsylvania thought
that he did too much
for his army by hut
ting them in Valley
Forge, and that they
should keep the open
field, live in tents, and
try to attack the ene
my. This thoughtful
criticism was too much even for Washington's iron self-
control. He wrote a very plain letter, setting forth bluntly
the shortcomings of the Pennsylvanians in supporting the
army with troops and supplies, and then added :
" I can assure those gentlemen that it is a much easier
and less distressing thing to draw remonstrances in a com
fortable room by a good fireside, than to occupy a cold,

HOUSE IN ARCH STREET, PHILADELPHIA,
WHERE BETSY ROSS MADE THE FIRST
AMERICAN FLAG FROM THE DESIGN
ADOPTED BY CONGRESS.

FABIUS 313
bleak hill, and sleep under frost and snow, without clothes
or blankets. However, although they seem to have little
feeling for the naked and distressed soldiers, I feel super
abundantly for them, and from my soul I pity their miser
ies, which it is neither in my power to relieve nor pre
vent." So we get the picture. There are the British, snug,
comfortable, and entertaining themselves in Philadelphia.
There are the members of Congress and foreign advent
urers intriguing and caballing for military control, with
Pennsylvania legislators in the background growling be
cause the army is not camping out in the open and march
ing up and down in the wintry fields. All around there
are much criticism and grumbling and wounding compari
sons with the exploits of the northern army. And there,
out in Valley Forge and along the bleak hillsides, is the
American Continental army. All that there is existent
and militant of the American Revolution is there, too,
just as it was during the previous winter. In the midst is
a great man who knows the grim facts, who understands
just what is meant by himself and the men who follow
him, and whose purpose, the one thing just then worth
doing in the world, is to keep, as he says, "life and soul"
in his army. He is a man to whom courage and loyalty
appeal very strongly, and it wrings his heart to watch his
brave and loyal men suffer ; yes, wrings his heart in a way
that well-meaning gentlemen in Congress and legislative
assemblies, self-seeking adventurers and petty rivals can
not understand. It makes his resentment against injus
tice stronger, and his determination to win sterner and
more unyielding even than before.
We see in imagination, but Washington saw face to

314 THE STORY OF THE REVOLUTION
face, his soldiers huddling around the fires at night while
the huts were building. He saw them hungry, half-
dressed, frost-bitten, hatless, shoeless, struggling to get a
shelter. Then the huts were built, and still he was strug
gling to get them clothes and food and blankets, as well
as medicine for the 3,000 sick. He levied on the country ;
he did not stop for trifles ; he meant that, come what
might, he would keep his men alive, and in some fashion
they lived. With March, Greene became Quartermaster-
General, and then the clothing and the food came, too.
The weather began to soften and the days to lengthen.
The worst had been passed, and yet, through all that dark
ness and cold, more had been done than keep " life and
soul " in the troops, marvellous as that feat was. In their
huts on the bleak hillsides, upon the trampled snow of the
camp-streets, Washington had not only held his men
together, but he had finally made his army. Excellent
fighting material he had always had, and he had been
forming it fast under the strain of marches, retreats, and
battles. But still it lacked the organization and drill
which were possessed by the enemy. These last Washing
ton gave it under all the miseries and sufferings of Valley
Forge. Good fortune had brought him a man fit for this
work above almost any other in the person of Baron Steu
ben, a Prussian soldier, a distinguished officer of the Seven
Years' War, trained in the school of Frederick, the most
brilliant commander of the time. A man who had fol
lowed the great King when he had faced all Europe in
arms against him, knew what fighting was and what disci
pline could do. All he needed was good material, and that
he found at Valley Forge. So Washington brought his
army out of this awful winter not only with " life and

FABIUS

3i5

soul " in them, but better equipped, thanks to Greene and
the French loans, than ever before, increasing in numbers,
owing to the new levies
which came in, and drilled
and organized in the fash
ion of the King of Prussia.
Early in May came the news
of the French alliance, which
was celebrated in the Ameri
can camp with salvoes of can
non and musketry, and with
the cheers of the troops for
the King of France and for
the United States of Amer
ica. This event, so anxiously
awaited, cheered and en
couraged everyone, and with
his army thus inspirited, disciplined, and strengthened,
Washington took the field and assumed the offensive.
Meantime the British lingered in Philadelphia. As
Franklin truly said, Philadelphia took them, not they the
city ; but this fact, clear at the outset to Franklin and
Washington, was not obvious to others for some time.
At last glimmerings of the truth penetrated the mists
which overhung the British Ministry. They vaguely per
ceived that Howe had consumed a great deal of time and
lost a great many men, while all that he had to show for
these expenditures were comfortable winter quarters in
Philadelphia, where he did nothing, and where Washington
watched him and held him cooped up by land. So the
Ministry decided to recall Howe and give the command
to Clinton, an entirely unimportant change, so far as the

BARON STEUBEN.
Painted by C. If. Peale, in 1780.

316 THE STORY OF THE REVOLUTION
merits of the two men were concerned. It seemed, how
ever, a very serious matter to the British in Philadelphia,
and a pageant called the Mischianza was held in Howe's
honor on May 18th. There was a procession of boats
and galleys on the river, moving to the music of hautboys,
between the lines of the men-of-war dressed in bunting,
and firing salutes. Then followed a regatta, and after
that a mock tournament, where " Knights of the Burning
Mountain " and of the " Blended Rose " contended for
the favor of a Queen of Beauty. In the evening there
were fireworks, a ball, and a gaming-table with a bank of
two thousand guineas ; all in honor of the General, whom
the tickets described as the setting sun, destined to rise
again in greater splendor. Stimulated by this pasteboard
radiance and blaze of millinery, Howe waited for a last
touch of glory, which was to come by surprising Lafay
ette, whom Washington had sent forward to observe the
enemy at Barren Hill. The attempt was well planned,
but the young Frenchman was alert and quick, and he
slipped through his enemy's fingers unscathed. It being
now apparent that the time for rising in greater glory had
not quite arrived, Howe shortly after took himself off, out
of history and out of America, where Clinton reigned in
his stead.The change of commanders made no change of habits.
Clinton tarried and delayed, as Howe had done before
him. It was obvious that he must get to New York,
for he was isolated where he was, and the French alliance
would soon produce fleets, as well as fresh troops. Yet
still he lingered. The Peace Commission, with Lord Car
lisle at its head, was one fruitful cause of hesitation and
delay, but like every conciliatory movement made by Eng-

FABIUS

3i7

land, this also was too late.
The concessions which would
have been hailed with rejoic
ing at the beginning, and ac
cepted even after war had
been begun, were now utter
ly meaningless. Washington
was determined to have in
dependence ; he would not
sheath his sword for less, and
he represented now as ever
the sentiment of Americans.
The only peace possible was
in independence. The col
onies were lost to England,
and the sole remaining ques
tion was, how soon she could
be forced to admit it. So
the Peace Commission broke
down, and not having been
consulted about the evacua
tion of Philadelphia, and hav
ing failed conspicuously and
rather mortifyingly in their
undertaking, retired in some
dudgeon to England, to add
their contribution to the dis
approval and disaffection fast
thickening about the King's
friends who composed the
Ministry. Clinton, for his part,

318 THE STORY OF THE REVOLUTION
gradually got ready to carry out his orders and leave
Philadelphia. Having made all his arrangements, he
slipped away on June 18th, so quietly that the disheart
ened and deserted loyalists of Philadelphia hardly real
ized that their protectors had gone. Washington, how
ever, knew of it at once. He had made up his mind
that Clinton would try to cross New Jersey, and he meant
to attack, although he was still inferior in numbers ; for
the British, notwithstanding the fact that they had been
weakened both by desertions during the winter and by
losses in battle during the previous autumn, appear still to
have had 17,000 men against 13,000 Americans. Despite
this disparity of force, Washington had entire confidence
in the instrument which he had been fashioning at Valley
Forge, and he meant to use it. General Lee, who, un
fortunately, had been exchanged and was now again in the
American camp, had but one firm conviction, which was,
that the British army was invincible, and that our policy
was simply to keep out of its way. He argued that the
British would never yield Pennsylvania, and that they
were in fact intending to do everything but what they
really aimed at, a speedy march to New York. Washing
ton quietly disregarded these opinions, and as soon as the
British left Philadelphia, broke camp and moved rapidly
after them. At Hopewell a council of war was held, and
Lee now urged building bridges of gold for the enemy
and aiding them to get to New York. A majority of the
council, whom Alexander Hamilton scornfully called "old
midwives," still under the spell of an " English officer,"
sustained Lee. But Washington had passed beyond the
time when he would yield to councils of war which stood
in the way of fighting, and supported by active men like

FABIUS 319
Greene, Wayne, and Lafayette, he firmly persisted in his
plans. He detached Wayne and Poor with their forces
to join Maxwell and the New Jersey militia, who were to
engage the enemy, while he brought up the main army.
Lee, entitled to the command of this advanced division,
first refused to take it, and then changed his mind most
unluckily, and displaced Lafayette, to whom the duty had
been assigned when Lee declined.
Meantime, Clinton, much harassed by the New Jersey
militia, and with his men suffering from heat and thirst,
and dropping out of the ranks, was slowly making his way
north. At Crosswicks, which he reached just in time to
save the bridge, he found Washington on his flank. To
escape, he had to take a quicker route ; so sending ahead
his baggage-train, which was from eight to twelve miles
long, he swung toward Freehold, making for the Never-
sink Hills and the coast. On the 26th he encamped at
Monmouth Court-House, while his left was still at Free
hold. The American army was now only eight miles
distant, and the advance under Lee but five miles away.
Washington sent orders to Lee to attack the next day, as
soon as the British resumed their march ; but Lee made
no plan, and the next morning did nothing until the mili
tia actually opened fire on Knyphausen's rear-guard, who
turned to meet them. As the militia retired they met
Lee, who engaged the enemy and then began to fall back
and move his troops about here and there with the intel
ligent idea of cutting off isolated parties of the enemy,
an unusual way of beginning a general action. His men
were ready and eager to fight ; but they became confused
by Lee's performances, lost heart, and finally began to
retreat, while Clinton, seeing his advantage, pushed for-

320 THE STORY OF THE REVOLUTION
ward reinforcements. Washington, hearing that Dicken
son and his New Jersey militia were engaged, sent word
to Lee to attack and that he would support him. He was
pressing on with the main army, the men throwing away
their knapsacks and hurrying forward through the intense
heat, when word came to him that Lee was retreating.
He would not believe it. He could not conceive that
any officer should retreat as soon as the enemy advanced,
and when he knew that the main army was hastening for
ward to his support. Filled with surprise and anger, he
set spurs to his horse and galloped to the front. First he
met stragglers, then more and more flying men, then the
division in full retreat. At last he saw Lee, and riding
straight at him, asked, with a fierce oath, as tradition says,
what he meant by retreating. Self-control was gone, and
just wrath broke out in a storm. The dangerous fight
ing temper, so firmly kept in hand, was loose. Lee, im
pudent, and clever as he was, quailed and stammered.
The question was repeated. There was and could be no
answer. Lee went to the rear, to a court-martial, and to
private life, sinking out of history, not without a strong
suspicion of treason clinging to him, to join Conway and
the rest of the unenviable company of adventurers who
wanted to free America by obtaining high rank for them
selves and admiring the enemy.
This particular scene was soon over and the real work
then began. The master had come at last. Like Sheridan
at Cedar Creek, the retreating men rallied and followed
the Commander-in-Chief. The broken division was re
formed in a strong position, the main army was brought
up, the British were repulsed, and Washington, resuming
the offensive, drove the enemy before him and occupied

BA TTLE OF MONMOUTH.
Oswalds artillery, which had drawn two additional guns from Varnum's brigade, ioas exchanging shots with the enemy.

FABIUS 323
the battle-ground of the morning. Then night fell, and
under cover of darkness Clinton retreated as fast as he
could, dropping men as he went, and finally reaching his
fleet and New York before the Americans could again
come up with him.
Contrast this fight with Long Island, and it can be
seen how an American army had been made in the inter
val. Thrown into disorder and weakened by the timid
blundering of their General, the advance division had been
entirely rallied, the main army had come up, the battle
had been saved, and a victory won. Had it not been for
Lee, it would have been a much more decisive victory,
and Clinton's army would have been practically destroyed.
As it was," he lost some 500 men at Monmouth to the 229
of the Americans. Along his whole retreat he lost nearly
2,000. " Clinton gained no advantage," said the great
soldier at Sans Souci watching events, " except to reach
New York with the wreck of his army."
Washington was victor at Monmouth, and had lost
Brandywine and Germantown, but he had won the cam
paign. The British had been driven from the Middle
States as they had been expelled from New England, for
they held nothing now but the port of New York, which
was actually covered by the guns of their fleet. They had
tried to reach Philadelphia from the north, and had been
baffled and forced back by Trenton and Princeton. They
had approached and occupied it from the south, but it was
worthless and a source of weakness unless they could
establish a line to New York which would enable them
to control both cities and the intervening country. This
Washington had prevented by holding Howe fast in Phila
delphia and checking any movement by land. When

324 THE STORY OF THE REVOLUTION
spring came it was evident that to attempt to hold both
cities, isolated as they were, required two armies, and under
existing conditions was a source of weakness which threat
ened a great disaster. Clinton had no choice but to re
treat ; he lost a battle and 2,000 men in doing so, and
reached New York with a beaten and broken army. New
York he continued to hold, Newport he held for a time,
and that was all. There were some affairs of outposts,
some raids here and there, some abortive invasions, but
the Middle States had gone as New England had gone
from the British, swept clear by Washington's campaigns.
As the evacuation of Boston closed the British cam
paign for the control of New England, so the battle of
Monmouth ended all effective military operations to re
cover English supremacy in the Middle States. The vic
tory at Monmouth also marks the beginning of the best
work of the American army, finally made such by hard
fighting and by the discipline and drill of Valley Forge.
Never again did the Continental Army under Washington
suffer defeat. From the victory at Monmouth, the last
general engagement in the north, to the surrender of York-
town, the army of Washington endured much, but they
were never beaten in action when he led them. This was
the result of two years of victory and defeat, of Trenton,
and of Germantown, of steady fighting and patient effort.
But, above all, it was the outcome of two bitter winters
and of Valley Forge, when the man sneered at in those
days as "Fabius"not only kept "life and soul" in his
army, but in the American Revolution, which that army
represented when it faced alone the power of England.