BARNES-
POPULAR HI STORY

OF THE •#■ «§^ 4> ■#

M:' int^ ^ ^ Hr w
UNITED STATES

LIBRARY

OF THE

University of California,

GIFT OF

Class

UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA

DEPARTMENT OF EDUCATION

Gift of PaUUks^

No. ilCd

Received Ijd^"

GEORGE WASHINGTON.

Barnes' Popular History

of the United States

of America

Joel Dorman Steele, Ph.D., F.G.S:
and Esther Baker Steele, Lit. D.

E y I S E D EDITION

From Prehistoric America
to the Present Time

rriTH MANY ILLUSTRATIONS

VOLUME I

NEW YORK

A. S. BARNES & COMPANY

MCMIV

£178

.5»

PREFACE TO THE NEW EDITION.

nPHE year 1904, bringing as it does the celebration of the great
expansion of our country involved in the Louisiana Purchase, is an
obviously opportune time for presenting a new and revised edition
of this standard History of the United States designed for popular
reading.

Barnes' History has been found to fill a want not supplied by brief,
didactic text-books on the one hand, or, on the other by cumbersome
and expensive sets of volumes, which, moreover, have in many cases
treated only of special periods.

In this History there is told in convenient form the story of our
country from the prehistoric America of the Mound Builders to the treaty
with Panama, the preparations for the long delayed Isthmian canal and
the launching of the Louisiana Purchase Exposition at St. Louis. It is a
narrative full of human interest as well as instruction, proving again that
history may offer attractions more inviting than those of fiction.

At this time particularly there is an impatience with the purely critical
treatment of historical themes. Certain of our broader minded historians
have themselves complained that research has killed imagination and the
critical spirit has smothered the human interest which a history should
have if it is to convey a picture of life. Such an interest pervades the
pages of Barnes' History. It affords a convenient, accessible and easily
read story of our country's evolution, and in these crowded and strenuous
days this new edition will, it is believed, be found to have a usefulness
and value immediate and universal.

221747

PREFACE.

fOUR centuries ago, it was not known that the earth is round, much
less that so vast an ocean awaited a Columbus and a new con-
tinent a Cabot. North America was then a wilderness, and its
inhabitants were savages. The story of its marvelous development
is now to open before us. It will be ours to tell it, not in a dull, dry-as-dust
style, but with somewhat of the earnestness of the men who cut down the
primeval forest ; and the fire of the soldiers who first subdued the heathen
possessor and at last drove out the British invader. We shall find every hard
fact to be brightened with the romance of real life, than which nothing is
more stirring, and every era of our history to be full of patriotic devotion and
heroic endeavor. Looking back from our standpoint of the years, we shall
see plain men of many nationalities working on, all unconsciously laying
the foundation of a new empire ; yet, under the guidance of a Hand reached
down from above, building wiser than they knew, and establishing a home for
liberty — civil and religious — its first in the wide world.

America was discovered just at the close of the fifteenth century. The
sixteenth was spent in numerous explorations and attempts by the Spanish,
the English, and the French to settle and get possession of this splendid prize
of a continent. The seventeenth century was one of colonization. It wit-
nessed the establishment of all the thirteen colonies except Georgia. Re-
ligious and political refugees flocked to this fair land of promise. The
advance guard of civilization planted its standard from the " River of May '*
on the south to the " Great River of Canada " on the north. The Cavalier
found a home on the Potomac, the Puritan on Cape Cod, the Huguenot on
the Cooper, and the Quaker on the Delaware. With a strange misappre-
hension of the extent of the territor}' bestowed, and a curious jealousy of
rival nations, all the English grants extended westward from the Atlantic to
the Pacific, the French southward from the St. Lawrence to the Gulf, and the
Spanish northward from the Gulf to the Arctic Ocean. Nearly three-quarters
of the eighteenth century was occupied in crystallizing the scattered settle-
ments into colonies regularly organized and governed, and in the struggles
of the English to get control of the continent.

PREFACE.

This preparatory work was the ante-natal growth of the republic which
was born July 4, 1776. It is therefore treated in the Introduction as a neces-
sary prelude to the Hundred Years of American Independence.

This relation of great colonial contests is followed by a chapter on the
manners and customs of " y® olden tyme." Here are portrayed the curious laws,
the quaint habits, and the strange attire, which have now all passed away.

Part II., embracing the Revolutionary War, begins the book proper. Here
will be found a narrative of those years of waiting and sacrifice during which
the nation achieved its independence. The battles are described with unusual
fulness, as becomes these centennial times and the interest every locality will
naturally possess in the events of its own neighborhood. Anecdotes and inci-
dents illustrative of the feelings of the day are freely interspersed. Accurate
maps and diagrams enable the reader to trace easily every campaign, while a
calendar indicates the important events of every day throughout the eventful
struggle.

Part III. covers the Constitutional History of the country, embracing the
formation of the Constitution and the gradual development of the nation
down to i860. This is detailed in four chapters of two decades each, indi-
cating as many different stages of growth and characteristic ideas. It has
two great episodes : the war of 18 12-14, which secured for the young Repub-
lic the respect of foreign nations ; and the war with Mexico, which gave to it
New Mexico and California, and let the tides of emigration pour into the El
Dorado of the West.

Part IV. treats of the Civil War, which resulted in the abolition of slavery
and the centralization of the governing power.

Part V. narrates the important events which have occurred since the
close of the civil war.

In preparing this story of our past, no pains have been spared to gather
the best material from every source. The most reliable authorities have
been consulted, recent investigations have been examined, and the ripest
fruits of historical research have been carefully gathered.

It has seemed that a narrative so full of picturesque incident and roman-
tic adventure, should sweep the reader along as by a charm and a fascination ;
that a history so pregnant with pure thought and high endeavor, should
awaken the sympathy and arouse the ambition of the most sluggish ; and that
a freedom which has cost so much sweat of brain and blood, so much
treasure of money and life, should grow inexpressibly precious. Thus may the
outcome of this fresh attempt to tell the story of our Independence be a rruer
reverence for the past, a purer patriotism for the present, and a more hopeful
outlook for the future.

T^BLE op CONTENTS.

■^^i^S8C'^^S><2^

PART I -IHTRODUCTIOH,

CHAPTER I.

EARLY HISTORY OF AMERICA.

Prehistoric Peoples — The Mound Builders — The North American Indians — In- pac«
dian Dialects — Indian Picture-Writing — Manners and Customs of the Indians
— Discovery of America — The Northmen — The Problem of the Age — Geo-
graphical Knowledge in the Fifteenth Century — Christopher Columbus — His
Expedition — The Voyage — The New World Discovered — The Return to
Spain — Subsequent Voyages of Columbus — Death of Columbus — ^The Ca-
bots — Vasco de Gama — Amerigo Vespucci— The New World Named 9-26

CHAPTER II.

EXPLORATIONS AND SETTLEMENTS.

Ponce de Leon — Balboa Discovers the Pacific Ocean — Discovery of the Mis-
sissippi — French Explorations — Verazzani — Cartier Discovers the St. Law-
rence — Coligny Plans a Colony — Ribaut Lands at Port Royal — Failure of
the Colony and its Fate — Laudonni^re Ascends the St. John's River —
Founding of St. Augustine — Cruelty of Melende?^— English Explorations
and Settlements — Frobisher — Drake in the Pacim: — Sir Humphrey Gilbert
— Sir Walter Raleigh Secures the Patent of Virginia — The Colony of
Roanoke — Settlement of Virginia — Captain John Smith — Virginia in the Sev-
enteenth Century — Settlement of Maryland — Settlement of Plymouth Colony
— The Pilgrims — Settlement of Massachusetts Bay— Religious Disturbances
— Roger Williams Banished — Union of the Colonies — Difficulties with the
Indians — Salem Witchcraft — Settlement of Connecticut — Settlement of New
York — New Netherland — The Redemptioners — Minuits Purchases Man-
hattan Island — Administration of Governor Stuyvesant — New York Sur-
rendered to the English — Death of Leisler — Berkeley and Carteret Found
New Jersey — Settlement of Pennsylvania — William Penn — Settlement of the
Carolinas — Charleston Founded — The Huguenots — Settlement of Georgia —
Savannah Founded — Contests with the Spaniards 27-66

TABLE OF CONTENTS.

CHAPTER III.

COLONIAL WARS.

New France — ^The Jesuit Missionaries and their Labors — Champlain — Mar- fam
quette — La Salle — French Settlements in the Seventeenth Century — King
William's War — Atrocities of the Indians — The Attack on Schenectady—
Descents on Haverhill and Deerfield — French Policy in the West — Wash-
ington's Journey to Fort le Bceuf— His Return and its Perils — Capitula-
tion of Fort Necessity — The Proposed Confederation — Defeat of Braddock
— Conquest of Acadia — Crown Point — Reduction of Fort William Henry
— Fort du Quesne Captured by the English — Louisburg Retaken — Wolfe
Lays Siege to Quebec — Capture of Quebec — Death of Wolfe and Mont-
calm — Conspiracy of Pontiac — The Long Struggle Cements the Colonies. 67-83

CHAPTER IV.

COLONIAL LIFE.

The Colonies — Their Extent and Population — Agriculture — Manufactures-
Commerce — Scarcity of Money — The First Mint — The Pine-Tree Money —
Introduction of the Printing-Press — Mode of Travel — The Postal System
— Progress of Education — Founding of Yale College — Free Schools Estab-
lished — Education in New York — Education in the South — Colleges at the
Opening of the Revolution — New England in the Seventeenth Century —
Manners and Customs — Modes of Punishment — Early Meeting-Houses —
A Puritan Sabbath — Fast and Thanksgiving Days — A Thanksgiving in
Connecticut — The Houses of Early Times — Family Life — Social Distinc-
tions — Training-Day — Dress and Jewelry — Sumptuary Laws — Wages —
Manners and Customs of the Dutch — Colonial Life in the South 84-130

PART II — THB WAR OF THB RBYOLUTIOH.

CHAPTER I.

ALIENATION OF THE COLONIES.

Injustice of England toward the Colonies— Arbitrary Restrictions Imposed on
Commerce and Manufactures— Taxation of the Colonies Proposed— Writs
of Assistance— The Stamp Act— Speech of Patrick Henry— The Mutiny
Act— Opposition and Excitement of the People— Resistance in North
Carolina— Franklin before the House of Commons — General Gagt arrives
in Boston— The Boston Massacre— The Regulators Defeated at Alamance
Creek— Tea Destroyed at Boston— Retaliatory Measures Adopted— Com-
mittees of Correspondence Appointed— Meeting of the First Continental
Congress— State of the Country I3I-I45

TABLE OF CONTENTb.

CHAPTER II.

OPENING OF THE WAR.

Movements in Boston — Lexington and Concord — Gathering of the Militia — ^Tke pag»
British Flight to Charlestown — Assembling of Troops at Cambridge —
Ethan Allen Captures Ticonderoga — Meeting of the Second Continental
Congress — Reinforcement of the British at Boston — Martial Law Declared
— Bunker Hill Occupied— The Preparations for Defence — Battle of Bun-
ker Hill— Results of the Battle— Effect of the Battle on the Patriots-
Washington Assumes Command of the Army — Number and Condition of
the Troops at Cambridge— Boston Besieged— Events Elsewhere— Affairs
in New York and the Carolinas— Foreign Mercenaries Sought by England
— Arnold's Expedition against Quebec— Siege of Quebec — Death of Mont-
gomery — Canada Abandoned 146-165

CHAPTER III.

INDEPENDENCE YEAR— 1776.

Condition of the Army — The British Evacuate Boston — Movements in North
Carolina — The Attack on Fort Moultrie — Thomas Paine Espouses the
Cause — Declaration of Independence — Popular Rejoicing in Philadelphia
— Appearance of the British before New York — Battle of Long Island —
The Retreat from Long Island — Execution of Nathan Hale— Occupation of
Harlem Heights— Operations in the Highlands— Fort Washington Taken
by the British— The Retreat through New Jersey— Capture of General Lee
— Barbarities of the Hessians— The Campaign in Pennsylvania— Battle of
Trenton — State of the Finances— Robert Morris 166-IQ5

CHAPTER IV.

THIRD YEAR OF THE REVOLUTION— 1777.

The Campaign in New Jersey — Battle of Princeton — Renewed Hopes of the
Patriots — Franklin as Commissioner to France and his Success — Lafayette
espouses the American Cause — England secures Hessian Auxiliaries —
British Plan of Campaign for 1777 — Evacuation of Fort Ticonderoga —
Battle of Oriskany — Origin of American Flag — Relief of Fort Schuyler —
Battle of Bennington — Death of Jane McCrea — First Battle of Saratoga —
Second Battle of Saratoga — Death of General Eraser — Surrender of Bur-
goyne — Narrative of Madame Riedesel — The Campaign in Pennsylvania
— Battle of Brandywine — Massacre at Paoli — Battle of Germantown —
Events about New York — Depredations of the British in Connecticut —
Capture of General Prescott — Burning of Kingston, N. Y. — Capture of
Fort Mercer — Washington encamps at Valley Forge 196-246

TABLE OF CONTENTS.

CHAPTER V.

FOURTH YEAR OF THE REVOLUTION— 1778.

Camp at Valley Forge— Battle of the Kegs— Light-Horse Harry— Demoraliza- pagb
tion of the People — Demoralization of the Army — Intrigues against Wash-
ington — The Conway Cabal — Arrival of Baron Steuben — Alliance with
France — Efforts at Conciliation — Battle of Monmouth — Heroism of Mary
Pitcher — Attempt to Recover Rhode Island — Massacre at Wyoming —
Operations in the West — Indian Atrocities in New York — The Johnsons
and the Six Nations — Operations in the South — Capture of Savannah by
the British — Exploits of Sergeant Jasper 247-269

CHAPTER VI.

FIFTH YEAR OF THE REVOLUTION— 1779.

Campaign in Georgia and South Carolina — British Depredations in South
Carolina — Operations in New York and Connecticut — General Putnam at
Horse Neck — Capture of Stony Point — Capture of Paulus Hook — Expe-
dition against Fort Castine — Battle of Chemung — Subjugation of the Six
Nations — Attack upon Savannah — Exploit of Colonel White — Operations
of the American Navy — Paul Jones — Capture of the Serapis 270-282

CHAPTER VII.

SIXTH YEAR OF THE REVOLUTION— 1780.

Depression of the Country — Siege and Surrender of Charleston — Subjugation
of South Carolina — Partisan Warfare in the Carolinas — Exploits of Marion
and his Men — Operations of Tarleton — Patriotism of Nancy Hart — Sum-
ter's Attack at Hanging Rock — General Gates assumes Command in the
South— His Defeat at Camden — Death of DeKalb — Battle of King's
Mountain — Activity of Marion and Sumter — Operations around New
York — Knyphausen in the Jerseys — Treason of Benedict Arnold — Trial
and Execution of Major Andre — Adventure of John Champe — Arrival of
Reinforcements from France 283-305

CHAPTER VIII.

THE LAST YEAR OF THE REVOLUTION— 1781.

Disaffection of the Continental Troops — Robert Morris appointed Financial
Agent — General Greene assumes Command in the South — Battle of Cow-
pens — Patriotism of Elizabeth Steele — Battle of Guilford Court-House —
Emily Geiger — Execution of Colonel Hayne — Arnold Invades Virginia —
British Detestation of Arnold — Comwallis in Virginia — Events Elsewhere
— Siege of Yorktown — Surrender of Cornwallis — End of the War — With-
drawal of the British Army — Washington's Farewell to the Army 306-324

TABLE OF CONTENTS.

PART III —THE COKSTITUTIOHAL PERIOD^

CHAPTER IX.

THE DEVELOPMENT OT THE REPUBLIC.

Condition of the Country at the Close of the War — Conflict of Interests between 9Msa
the States — Meeting of the Constitutional Convention — The New Constitu-
tion Formed and Adopted — George Washington elected President — The
Inauguration — The First Congress — The First Cabinet — Political Parties —
Hamilton's Financial Policy — Troubles with the Indians in the North-
west — The Second Congress — Washington Re-elected — American Sympa-
thy with the French Revolution — The Jay Treaty — Vermont, Kentucky,
and Tennessee admitted to the Union — Declination of a Third Term by
Washington — Success of his Administrations — Social Observances — Elec-
tion of John Adams — Threatened Difficulty with France — The Alien and
Sedition Laws — Death of Washington — Washington City in 1800—
Churches Founded in the Eighteenth Century — The First Cotton Mill in
the United States — Eli Whitney Invents the Cotton-Gin — Manners and
Customs at the Close of the Eighteenth Century 325-353

CHAPTER X.

AMERICAN NATIONALITY ASSURED— 1800-1820.

Election of Thomas Jefferson as President — His Cabinet — His Policy — Repeal
of the Sedition Act — Ohio admitted to the Union — Acquisition of Lou-
isiana — Extent of Louisiana — Expedition against Tripoli — Death of Alex-
ander Hamilton — Re-election of Jefferson — ^John Randolph — Trial of
Aaron Burr — Fulton and the First Steamboat — The Embargo Act — ^James
Madison elected President — His Cabinet — Rupture with England — Louis-
iana admitted to the Union — Madison Re-elected — War declared with
England — Attempted Invasions of Canada — Successes of the American
Navy — Military Movements at the North and West — Naval Battle on Lake
Erie — War with the Southern Indians — English Devastation of the South-
em Coast — Opposition to the War by Massachusetts — Oswego — Chippewa
— Lundy's Lane — Plattsburg — Washington occupied by the British— Battle
of New Orleans — The Dartmoor Massacre — Indiana admitted to the Union
— ^James Monroe elected President — His Cabinet — State of the Country —
Colleges Founded — Foreign Missionary Society — American Bible Society
— Mississippi, Illinois, Alabama, and Maine admitted to the Union —
Re-election of James Monroe — The Missouri Compromise 354-^409

CHAPTER XI.

INTERNAL DISSENSIONS— 1 820-1 840.

Financial Prostration of the Country — The Monroe Doctrine — John Quincy
Adams elected President — Lafayette's Visit to the United States — Mis-
souri admitted to the Union — Internal Improvements Proposed — The

TABLE OF CONTENTS.

Erie Canal — Completion of the Capitol — Death of Adams and Jefferson — pack
— The First Railroad in the United States — Andrew Jackson elected
President — Character of Jackson — His Cabinet — Wholesale Removals
from Office — The Foot Resolutions — The Debate between Webster and
Hayne — Death of James Monroe — The United States Bank — The Tariff
Compromise — Re-election of Andrew Jackson — Formation of the Whig
Party — The Press in 1835 — Indian Troubles — Arkansas and Michigan
admitted to the Union — Martin Van Buren elected President — Financial
Crisis of 1837 — The Movement for Canadian Independence — General
Harrison elected 'President 408-435

CHAPTER XII.

CULMINATION OF DOMESTIC DIFFICULTIES.— 1840-1860.

Popularity of Harrison — His Death — John Tyler becomes President — Dorr's
Rebellion — Anti-Rent Difficulty in. New York — The Mormons — Morse
and the Magnetic Telegraph — Florida admitted to the Union— Annex-
ation of Texas — ^James K. Polk elected President — The Oregon Boun-
dary — War with Mexico — Battles of Palo Alto and Resaca de la
Palma — Battle of Monterey — Battle of Buena Vista — Cerro Gordo — Cap-
ture of Mexico— Peace Declared — Fruits of the War — General Taylor
elected President — Iowa and Wisconsin admitted to the Union — President
Taylor's Cabinet— Congress of 1850 — Millard Fillmore, President — Dis-
covery of Gold in California — " Manifest Destiny " — Opening of the Erie
Railroad — Franklin Pierce elected President — Bleeding Kansas — The
Know-Nothing Party — James Buchanan elected President — His Cabinet
— The Dred Scott Decision — Minnesota and Oregon admitted to the
Union — The Donation Law — ^John Brown — Abraham Lincoln elected
President — Secession of the Southern States 436-480

PART lY.-THS CIYIL WAR.

CHAPTER XIII.

FIRST YEAR OF THE CIVIL WAR.— 1861.

The Inauguration of Lincoln — His Cabinet — Events at the South — Attack on
Fort Sumter— Effect at the North— Surrender of Fort Sumter— The De-
fence of Washington— Death of Ellsworth — War in West Virginia and
Missouri — Battle of Bull Run — War on the Sea and along the Coast —
Letters of Marque issued by the Confederate Government — Southern Ports
Blockaded— Foreign Relations — The Trent Aflfair 481-494

TABLE OF CONTENTS.

CHAPTER XIV.

SECOND YEAR OF THE CIVIL WAR— 1862.

Operations in the West — Capture of Fort Donelson — Battle of Pittsburg Land- Mfli
ing — Military and Naval Operations along the Mississippi — Battle of Cor-
inth — Battle of Murfreesborough — Capture of New Orleans — The Contest
in Missouri — Movements in North Carolina — ^The Monitor and Merrimac
—The Peninsular Campaign— Battle of Williamsburg — The Capitol
Threatened— Battle of Fair Oaks— The Seven-Days Battles — Lee invades
Maryland — Battle of Antietam — Battle of Fredericksburg — Indian Trou-
bles in the West— Eflfects of the Blockade at the South 495'^9>

CHAPTER XV.

THIRD YEAR OF THE CIVIL WAR— 1863.

The Emancipation Proclamation — Negro Soldiers — Grant's Movement against
Vicksburg — Battles of Port Gibson, Jackson, Champion Hills, and Big
Black River — Surrender of Vicksburg — Capitulation of Port Hudson —
Battle of Chickamauga — Battles of Lookout Mountain and Chattanooga —
Scenes after the Battle — Anecdote ol the Third Ohio and the Fifty-fourth
Virginia Regiments — Operations before Knoxville — Battle of Chancellors-
ville — Stonewall Jackson — Lee's Invasion of Maryland — Battle of Gettys-
burg — Fall Campaign in Virginia — Capture of Fort Wagner — Conscription
Laws — Riot in New York — Dedication of Gettysburg Battle-Field —
Cavalry Raids 53I'-5Sf

CHAPTER XVI.

FOURTH YEAR OF THE CIVIL WAR— 1864.

Grant appointed Commander-in-Chief— Sherman's March to Atlanta — Battles
of Dallas, Resaca, New Hope Church, Allatoona Pass, and Kenesa\r
Mountain — Johnston Superseded — Hood's Three Attacks on Sherman-
Capture of Atlanta — The March to the Sea — Capture of Fort McAllister —
Battles of Franklin and Nashville — The Overland Campaign — Battles of
the Wilderness, Spottsylvania Court-House, Cold Harbor, and before Pe-
tersburg — Early's Raid upon Washington — The Mine Disaster — Gloomy
Feeling at the North — Sheridan in the Shenandoah Valley — ^The Meridian
Campaign— The Red River Campaign 560-583

CHAPTER XVII.

LAST YEAR OF THE CIVIL WAR— 1865.

Plan of the Campaign— Cavalry Movements— Sherman's March through the
Carolinas— Fall of Charleston— Battles of Bentonville and Averysboro—
Desperate Condition of Lee— Attack on Fort Steadman — Battle of Fire

TABLE OF CONTENTS.

Forks — Evacuation of Richmond— Lee's Retreat— The Surrender at Appo- pagb
mattox Court-House — Downfall of the Confederacy— Capture of Jefferson
Davis — Assassination of Lincoln — Cost of the War — Financial Policy of
the Government— Sanitary and Christian Commissions — The Southern
Women 584-600

PART Y — THE HEW ERA*

CHAPTER XVIII.

THE DECADE OF RECONSTRUCTION.

The Inauguration of Johnson — Disbanding of the National Army — ^Johnson's
Plan of Reconstruction — Adoption of the Thirteenth Amendment — Con-
gressional Policy — Fourteenth Amendment — The Southern States Re-
stored to the Union — Impeachment of the President — Universal Amnesty
— Maximilian in Mexico — The Atlantic Telegraph — The Fenians — Grant's
Administration — Cabinet — The Pacific Railroad — Black Friday — Reunion
of the Presbyterian Church — Fifteenth Amendment — The Ninth Census —
Annexation of Santo Domingo — The New York Ring — The Alabama
Claims— Fire in Chicago— Fire in Boston — The " Back Pay " — Grant's
Second Administration — Cabinet — Death of Horace Greeley — Indian Wars
— The Credit Mobilier — Panic of 1873 — Patrons of Industry — Admission
of Colorado — Death of Distinguished Men 603-620

CHAPTER XIX.

THE CENTENNIAL DECADE— 1876-1886.

The Centennial year and its Celebration — The International Exhibition —
Changes in the Cabinet— Operations of the " Whiskey Ring "—Presidential
Nominations — General Schenck and the Emma Mine— Troubles with the
Sioux — The Election — The Disputed Returns— The Electoral Commission
— Hayes Declared Elected — His Life — His Cabinet — Withdrawal of
Troops from the South — Civil Service Reform — Labor Disturbances —
The Telephone — The Silver-bill — The Fisheries Award— The Tenth
Census— The Presidential Election of 1880— Election of James A. Garfield
—Indian Schools and the Education of the Indian— Sketch of James A.
Garfield— His Cabinet— Republican Party Difficulties— The Assassination
of Garfield— His Long and Weary Struggle— His Removal to Long
Branch, N. J.— His Death— Its Effect upon the Country— The Accession
of Chester A. Arthur to the Presidency— Sketch of President Arthur-
Cabinet Appointments— Centennial of Battle of Yorktown — Mississippi
Flood — Brooklyn Bridge Opened — New Orleans Exposition— Standard
Time — Arctic Explorations — Important Bills — Tariff Discussion— Civil
Service Reform— Election of Grover Cleveland — Sketch— Cabinet— Death
of General Grant 621-645

TABLE OF CONTENTS.

CHAPTER XX.

ERA OF REFORM— 1885-1889.

'fhe Development of the Navy — The New Cruisers — The Army — Indian In-
dustrial Schools — Indian Troubles — The Public Debt — The Edmunds
Anti-Polygamy Bill — The Presidential Succession Bill — The Foreign Con-
tract Labor Bill — The Canadian Fisheries Question — Reduction of the
Public Debt — Cabinet Changes — The Interstate Commerce Bill — The
Captured Confederate Flags — The Centenary Celebration of the Adoption
of the Constitution — The " Blizzard " of March, 1888 — The Earthquake
in South Carolina — The Government Civil Service System — The Pres-
idential Campaign — The Mills Bill — Benjamin Harrison elected Presi-
dent—His Genealogy — His Biography — Selection of His Cabinet — His
Attitude toward Civil Service Reform — The Pension Roll — Its Wonderful
Increase — Corporal Tanner — The Celebration of the Centennial of the
Inauguration of Washington— Formation of the New Territory of Okla-
homa — Admission of the New States — North and South Dakota, Washing-
ton, and Montana 646-655

Summary of Events, 1889-1890 655-657

CHAPTER XXI.
CLOSE OF THE HARRISON ADMINISTRATION— 1891-1893.

Reciprocity with Brazil — Postal Subsidy — International Copyright — A Cir-
cuit Court of Appeals — Closer Inspection of Immigrants — Italian Riot
in New Orleans — Complication with Italy — Chinese Exclusion Act —
American Registration — Hog Embargo Raised by Germany, Denmark,
Italy, France, Austria — Patrick Egan Minister to Chili — Secretary
Blaine Resigns — Campaign of 1892 — The Party Platforms — Cholera —
Columbian Celebration in New Fork — Death of Mrs. Harrison — Cleve-
land Elected — Reciprocity Treaties— Death of Gen. B. F. Butler — Of
Ex-President Hayes — Of Secretary Blaine — Revolution in Hawaii —
Grover Cleveland Inaugurated — Boston Fire — Business Depression... 658-664

CHAPTER XXII.

COLUMBIAN DECADE AND THE CLEVELAND AND McKINLEY
ADMINISTRATIONS— 1894-1901.

The Columbian Exposition in Chicago — Assassination of Mayor Harrison
of Chicago — Currency Famine — Wilson Tariff Bill — Republican Mayor
in New York — Free Silver Agitation — The Venezuela Incident — The
Cuban Revolt — Filibusters — The Party Platforms — Bryan's Campaign
— McKinley Elected — Business Revival — The Klondike — Cuban Diffi-
culties — The Destruction of the "Maine" — War with Spain Declared
— The Battle of Manila — Blockade of Cuba — The "Merrimac" — Agui-
naldo — El Caney — San Juan Hill — Destruction of Cervera's Fleet —
Porto Rico — Treaty of Peace — Hawaii — Rebellion of the Filipinos —
Samoa — The Census — McKinley Re-elected — The " Boxer" Rebellion —
The Allied Powers in China — Capture of Aguinaldo — McKinley Assas-
sinated 665-702

TABLE OF CONTENTS.

CHAPTER XXIII.
ROOSEVELT'S ADMINISTRATION— 1901-1904.

Continues Policy of McKinley — Prince Henry of Prussia's Visit — Volcanic pagb
Eruptions in the West Indies — The "Trust" Issue — Anthracite Coal-
miners' Strike — President appoints Commission to Attempt Settlement
— Check in Business Prosperity — Governor Taft Appointed Secretary
of War — Cuban Reciprocity Bill Passed — Dangerous Condition of
Venezuelan Question — Canadian-Alaskan Boundary Settled by Com-
mission — The Isthmian Canal Complications — Louisiana Purchase
Exposition 703-712

It****

1 Frontispiece. Portrait, George Washington. tAcs

2 Columbus in his Study, &c., &c. — Initial 9

3 The Serpent Mound 10

4 The Mounds near Little Rock, Ark 11

5 Indian Symbols 13

6 Specimen of Indian Picture-Writing 15

7 Indian Life 17

8 An Indian Family Moving 18

9 Norman Ship (from the Bayeux Tapestry) 20

10 The Ancient Tower at Newport, R. 1 20

11 Portrait, Columbus 21

12 Behaim's Globe ( 1492) — Eastern Hemisphere 22

13 " " (1492) — Western Hemisphere 23

14 Columbus Discovering Land , . 24

15 A Spanish Caravel 24

16 Columbus Taking Possession 25

17 Tomb of Columbus at Havana 26

18 Balboa — Initial 27

19 De Soto's March 28

20 Portrait, Jacques Cartier 28

21 Map of Early American Discoveries 29

22 Portrait, Admiral Coligny 29

23 Old Gateway at St. Augustine, Florida 30

24 Raleigh introduces Tobacco into England 32

25 The Deserted Colony of Roanoke 33

26 The Ruins at Jamestown 34

27 Smith Explaining his Compass to the Indians 35

28 Pocahontas 36

29 Selling Wives to the Planters 38

30 Drummond brought before Berkeley 40

31 Portrait, Lord Baltimore 42

32 Signing the Compact in the Cabin of the Mayflower 43

33 Plymouth Rock 44

34 Welcome, Englishmen. — Plymouth, 1621 45

LIST OF ILLUSTPLA.TIONS.

PAGB

35 Fac-simile of First Map Engraved in New England 47

36 Roger Williams Received by Canonicus 48

37 Portrait, King Philip 49

38 GOFFE at HADLEY 50

39 The Old Witch House, Salem 52

40 The Charter Oak 54

41 The Half-Moon in the Hudson 55

42 Portrait, Governor Stuyvesant 57

43 The English Landing at New York, 1664 5t

44 The Tomb of Peter Stuyvesant 59

45 Seals of New Amsterdam and New York 60

46 Statue of Penn in Philadelphia 61

47 Huguenots going to Church 64

48 Portrait, General Oglethorpe, aged 102 65

49 Penn's Treaty Tree 66

50 The Death Whoop — Initial 67

51 Portrait, Samuel Champlain 68

52 Marquette Descending the Mississippi 69

53 A Fortified House 70

54 The Indian Attack on Schenectady 71

55 Mrs. Dustin Disposing of her Captors 72

56 Map of the French and Indian Wars (1689 to 1763) 73

57 An Incident of Washington's Return 75

58 Portrait, Benjamin Franklin 76

59 Washington at Braddock's Defeat 77

60 Portrait, General Wolfe 80

61 Quebec in Early Times 81

62 The Grave of Braddock 83

63 Clearing a Home in the Backwoods — Initial 84

64 Pine-Tree Shilling 85

65 The Old Stage-Coach 86

66 Early Printing-Press 89

67 A Scold Gagged 90

68 The Stocks 90

69 The First Church erected in Connecticut (1638) 91

70 Whitefield's House, Guilford, Connecticut 95

71 Training-Day in the Olden Time 97

72 A Wedding Journey 98

73 Dutch Mansion and Cottage in New Amsterdam 102

74 Dutch Courtship 106

75 Ye Dutch Schoolmaster 106

76 Early American Plow 114

77 The Pillory 115

78 The Old-Time Fireside 119

79 Ancient Chair (brought over in the Mayflower) 125

80 The Woolen Spinning-Wheel 126

81 Field Sports of the South 130

82 The Boston Tea-Party — Initial 133

83 Portrait, William Pitt, Earl of Chatham 135

84 Patrick Henry Addressing the Virginia Assembly 136

85 Map of the Colonies 138

Full-page Portrait, Benjamin Franklin 139

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.

PAGE

86 Faneuil Hall , 140

87 The Regulators Threatening Governor Tryon 142

88 Carpenter's Hall 144

89 England Forcing Tea down the Throat of America 145

90 The Light in the Steeple — Initial 146

91 Paul Revere Spreading the Alarm 147

92 Map, Vicinity of Boston and Concord 148

93 Putnam Starting for Cambridge 149

94 Ethan Allen at Ticonderoga , 150

95 The Prayer before the Battle of Bunker Hill 152

96 Map of the Battle of Bunker Hill 153

97 The Bayonet Charge at Bunker Hill 154

98 The Old Magazine at Williamsburg, Va 158

99 Specimen of Continental Money 161

100 The Prescott Gate, Quebec 163

loi A Street in Quebec — Scene of Arnold's Attack 165

102 Evacuation of Boston — Initial 166

103 Boston One Hundred Years Ago .• 169

104 The Attack on Fort Moultrie 171

105 Liberty Bell 173

106 Map of Battle of Long Island 178

107 Prison-Ship at Wallabout 179

108 The Retreat from Long Island 180

109 Map of the Lower Hudson 185

no A Hessian Grenadier 188

111 Washington Crossing the Delaware 191

112 Washington's Visit to General Rall 194

113 Portrait, Robert Morris 195

114 Franklin at the French Court — Initial. 196

115 Death of General Mercer and Mercer Monument 198

116 Portraits, Pulaski, Kosciusko and Baron DeKalb 202

117 Ruins of Fort Ticonderoga 205

118 The Alarm at Fort Schuyler 209

119 Mrs. Schuyler Setting the Grain-Fields on Fire 212

120 General Eraser Covered by Sharp-Shooters 217

121 Map of the Upper Hudson 219

122 Portrait, General Burgoyne 224

123 " General Gates 225

124 Map of Operations in New Jersey and Pennsylvania 230

125 The Paoli Monument 232

126 Battle of Germantown — Attack on Chew's House 234

127 Capture of General Prescott 237

128 Execution of a Spy at Kingston, N. Y 240

129 Washington's Headquarters at Valley Forge 246

130 Washington at Prayer — Initial 247

131 In Camp at Valley Forge 251

132 Portrait, Marquis de Lafayette 255

133 Louis XVI. , Marie Antoinette and the Dauphin 259

134 Medal Commemorating the Alliance between France and the United

States 259

135 Molly Pitcher at the Battle of Monmouth 261

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.

»AGE

136 Portrait, Joseph Brandt (after Catlin) 269

137 " Red Jacket (after Weir) 270

138 Map of Operations in Virginia and the Carolinas 272

139 Giving the Countersign at Stony Point 275

140 Capture of the Serapis by the Bon Homme Richard 281

141 The Decatur Monument 282

142 Patriots making Arms and Ammunition — Initial 283

143 A Rendezvous of Marion and his Men 288

144 Nancy Hart and the British Soldiers 292

145 The Old Sugar House, Liberty Street, New York 298

146 Capture of Major Andre 302

147 The Monument at Tarrytown 305

148 General Wayne Confronting the Rioters— Initial 306

149 Mrs. Steele and General Greene 310

150 The Partisan Leaders of the South 314

151 Map of the Siege of Yorktown 320

152 Surrender of Cornwallis at Yorktown 321

153 Portrait, George the Third 324

154 Washington's Inauguration at Federal Hall— Initial 327

155 Washington's Headquarters at Newburg 330

156 Map, Territorial Growth of the United States 332

157 Washington and his Cabinet 335

158 Daniel Boone's Exploring Expedition 340

159 Mount Vernon 343

160 Portrait, Napoleon Buonaparte 34S

161 Medal, Washington and Lafayette 353

162 Portrait, Thomas Jefferson— Initial 354

163 Jefferson going to his Inauguration 356

164 Chief-Justice Marshall in the Library of Congress 359

165 Duel between Hamilton and Burr 363

166 The Clermont, Fulton's Steamboat 366

167 Portrait, Elskwatawa, the Prophet 370

168 Burning of the Richmond (Va.) Theatre 371

169 Map of the War of 1812-14 (Northern Region) 374-

170 General Scott and the two Indians 37^

171 " Old Ironsides " 378

172 Capture of the Frolic 379

173 Sackett's Harbor in 1814 380

174 Portrait, Captain James Lawrence 382

175 Perry's Headquarters 384

176 Perry leaving the Lawrence 385

177 A Caricature of the Time— (Queen Charlotte and Johnny Bull got

their Dose of Perry) 386

178 Portrait, Oliver Hazard Perry 387,

179 Map, Southern Region of the War of 1812-14 388'

180 Weatherford in Jackson's Tent 389

181 The Attack on Oswego 390

182 Colonel Miller at Lundy's Lane 392

183 The Ruins of Fort Erie— Buffalo in the Distance 393

184 British Soldiers Burning Books in the Library of Congress 394

185 The Battle of New Orleans 397

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.

PAGE

i86 Portrait, Emma Willard 402

187 Chicago in 1820 405

188 The Old Block-House, Chicago 407

189 Portrait, John Quincy Adams — Initial 408

190 Lafayette at the Tomb of Washington 411

191 Monticello, the Home of Jefferson 415

192 The First Railroad Train in the United States 416

193 Portrait, Andrew Jackson 419

Full-page Portrait, Daniel Webster 421

194 Portraits, Hayne and Webster 422

195 Henry Clay Addressing the Senate 425

196 The United States Bank 426

197 The Dade Monument at West Point, N. Y 430

198 Portrait, William Henry Harrison 434

199 Birthplace of Martin Van Buren 435

200 Portrait, John Tyler 436

201 The Tomb of Harrison 438

202 View of Nauvoo City 441

203 House in which the First Congress of Texas Met 444

204 Santa anna Rebuked by Houston 446

205 Capture of the Mexican Battery by Captain May 450

206 A Scene at Monterey 452

207 Map Illustrating the Mexican War 454

208 On the Summit of the Cordilleras 458

209 Secretary Preston and the Boatswain 462

210 Portrait, General Zachary Taylor 463

211 Bird's-eye View of San Francisco 466

212 Ashland, the Home of Henry Clay 47o

213 Scenes in Kansas 473

214 Portrait, James Buchanan 475

215 *• Abraham Lincoln 479

216 Fort Sumter 480

Full-page Portrait, Abraham Lincoln 482

217 Mass Meeting in Union Square, New York — Initial 483

218 Lincoln's Early Home in Illinois 485

219 Attack on Fort Sumter from Morris Island 487

220 " Stonewall" Jackson at the Head of his Brigade 491

221 Intercepting the Trent 494

222 Group of Union Volunteers — Initial. 495

223 Surrender of Fort Donelson. . . 498

224 The Midnight Council of War 499

225 Donaldson's Point and Island No. 10 503

226 Map of Operations in the East 505

227 Heroism of Colonel Rogers 507

228 Bird's-eye View of New Orleans 510

229 Naval Duel between the Monitor and the Merrimac 514

230 Map of the Peninsula 516

231 Building a Corduroy Road through a Swamp 517

232 Portrait, General George B. McClellan 520

233 " General Robert E. Lee 522

234 Death of General Kearney 525

235 Storming the Bridge at Antietam . . 527

236 The Monitor at Sea 530

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.

PAGB

237 Reading the Emancipation Proclamation — Initial 531

238 Running the Batteries at Vicksburg 532

239 Map of Vicksburg and Vicinity.. 534

240 Map of Chattanooga and Vicinity £36

241 A Charge at Missionary Ridge 530

242 Lee and Jackson Planning the Battle of Chancellorsville 542

243 Stonewall Jackson in his Tent 545

244 Portrait, Major-General George G. Meade 548

245 Map of Gettysburg and Vicinity 549

246 Repulsing a Charge at Gettysburg 551

247 Drafting 556

248 The National Monument at Gettysburg 559

249 An Impromptu Fortification — Initial 560

250 Map of Operations in the West 563

251 The March to the Sea 565

252 Crossing the Rapidan— Grant's Telegram 568

253 Map of Grant's Campaign around Richmond 569

254 Portrait, General Ulysses S. Grant 573

255 Sheridan's Arrival at Cedar Creek 576

256 Naval Battle in Mobile Bay 579

257 The Alabama 582

258 Portraits, Sherman and Sheridan 583

259 Refugees Following the Army— /mV/a/ 584

260 Sherman at the Head of his Troops 586

261 Portrait, General Joseph E. Johnston 587

262 City of Richmond 589

263 Cavalry Charge oit the Confederate Wagon-Train 591

264 Signing the Terms of Surrender 593

265 Portrait, Jefferson Davis 594

266 Assassination of President Lincoln 596

267 A Scene at the Surrender of Lee 600

268 Reconciliation — Initial 603

269 The Grand Review— Marching down Pennsylvania Avenue 605

270 Portrait, Andrew Johnson 607

271 The Great Eastern in Mid-Ocean Laying the Cable 610

272 General Grant's Residence at Galena, III., in i860 612

273 Driving the Last Spike 613

274 Portrait, Horace Greeley 617

275 Centennial Medal — Reverse 620

276 Group of Sioux Indians 623

277 Portrait of Rutherford B. Hayes 624

278 The Bland Silver Dollar 627

279 The White House 629

281 Portraits of Garfield and Arthur 631

282 Assassination of President Garfield • 633

283 Garfield Looking out upon the Sea at Long Branch 634

284 Centennial of Battle of Yorktown 636

285 The Brooklyn Bridge 637

286 Arctic Sledging 639

287 Grover Cleveland 643

288 Grant's Birthplace ; Tomb, Etc 644

289 Man-of-War with Search Light 647

290 Bknjamin Harrison 652

2Ql PORIRAIT, JaMKS G. BlAINE = 663

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.

PAGE

292 William McKinley 674

293 The "Viscaya" in New York Harbor 678

294 Manila Harbor 684

295 Battle of Manila Bay — Map 685

296 American Troops in Porto Rico 693

297 Treaty Commissioners 695

298 Theodore Roosevelt , . . 702

299 Louisiana Purchase Exposition — Towers Flanking Main Entrance... 707

300 Louisiana Purchase Exposition — Festival Hall and Cascades 713

301 Panama Canal Profile and General View 716

PART I.

IntroHttrtm

Lift we the twilight curtains of the Past,
And, turning from familiar sight and sound.

Sadly and full of reverence let us cast

A glance upon Tradition's shadowy ground,

Led by the few pale lights which, glimmering round

That dim, *trange land of Eld, seem dying fast''

CHAPTER I.

EJ(kLY ElSTO(kY OF JME^ICJ,

HE authentic history of North
America is comprised within
four centuries. All back of that
rests upon ruins and traditions,
and is largely mythical. The
Indians were noc the most
ancient inhabitants of North
America. Through the whole
length of the Mississippi Valley
are found the remains of a
numerous and civilized people
which once occupied this coun-
try. This race is known as the
Mound Builders, from the large
number of mounds which they
erected, seemingly as monu-
ments to distinguished dead, or

EARLY HISTORY OF AMERICA.

as grana altars for religious purposes. Sixteen miles east of
Little Rock, Arkansas, are two of these elevations, the larger of
which is over two hundred and fifty feet in height. Its summit
is crowned with a magnificent elm which has stood four hun-
dred years. Near by is a sheet of water known as Mound Lake,
three and a half miles long and a quarter of a mile broad, the
result evidently of excavation for the mound material. The
two mounds are encircled by a ditch which encloses an area
of over ninety acres. Elsewhere are seen extensive earthworks
constructed with considerable skill. They crown a steep bluff,
or are carried across the neck of a peninsula formed by the
bend of a river. If there is no access to springs or streams, they
contain artificial reservoirs for holding water. Fort Hill, on the
Little Miami River, Ohio, consists of an embankment nearly
four miles in extent, and from ten to twenty feet high, varying

according to the natural advantages of
the ground. In Adams county, Ohio,
is a curious earthwork, representing
an immense serpent, one thousand feet
long, holding in its mouth an egg-
shaped mound one hundred and sixty feet
in length, and having its tail twined
into a triple coil. These mounds rarely
contain more than one skeleton. Many
tools and ornaments of copper, brass,
silver, and precious stones, such as
knives, axes, chisels, bracelets, and beads
have been found ; as also cloth and
thread and vases of potteiy. Near
Nashville, in Tennessee, an idol made of clay and gypsum was ex-
humed. Roman and Persian coins have been discovered ; and in
Western New York a silver piece, with the date a.d. 600, found
far below the surface, furnishes a theme for many a speculation.
The Mound Builders worked the copper mines about Lake
Superior, and their old pits are now familiarly known in that
region as the ** ancient diggings." In one of these mines near
Eagle Harbor, a mass of copper was found which weighed forty-
six tons. The block had been separated from the original vein
and the surface pounded smooth. About it lay stone hammers,
copper chisels and wedges in abundance, as if the workmen had
but just departed. Upon these mounds and mines the largest

THE SERPENT MOUND.

PREHISTORIC PEOPLES.

forest trees are now growing. On one mound near Marietta,
Ohio, there are trees which must have seen at least eight cen-
turies. The age of the mounds themselves is a matter of conjec-
ture alone.

" A race that long has passed away-
Built them : a disciplined and populous race
Heaped with long toil the earth, while yet the Greek
Was hewing the Pentelicus to forms
Of symmetry, and rearing on its rock
The glittering Parthenon." — Bryant.

When the Jesuit missionaries first came to America, they
found the Indians not only entirely ignorant of this people, but
possessed of no tradition concerning them. Whence these un-
known races came to our shores we know not. It is. natural

THE MOUNDS NEAR LITTLE ROCK, ARKANSAS.

to suppose, however, that their home was Asia — the birthplace
of man. Within the past century fifteen Japanese vessels have, it
is said, been driven by storms across the Pacific Ocean, and
wrecked on the American coast. Such events may have hap-
pened anciently, and the shipwrecked crews may have settled the
new country. Formerly, too, as geologists tell us, before
Behring Strait was cut through, the two continents were con-
nected. Parties of adventurers may then have crossed, and
finding a pleasant land on this side, may have decided to make it
their home. All is conjecture, however, and we know not when
nor whence the Mound Builders came, nor when nor whither
they went.

12 EARLY HISTORY OF AMERICA.

Most curious of all the remains found on this continent are
those of Arizona. Here are not only Spanish cathedrals dating
back of the Revolutionary struggle, and ruins of Spanish towns
indicating an early and extensive colonization, now disappeared,
which must have been in its glory when as yet only a few woe-
begone English settlers half starved in their rude cabins along
the Potomac River and Plymouth Bay ; but recent explorations
have revealed other and prehistoric remains, belonging to a race
which has left behind no tradition even of its name or origin.
The Gila Valley alone, it is estimated, must once have been occu-
pied by one hundred thousand inhabitants. In the great Tonto
Basin, bounded by the rivers Gila, Verde and Black Mesa, and the
White Mountains, nearly every hill within a range of ten thousand
square miles is covered with broken pottery, so perfectly glazed
that its bright coloring is still preserved. Here are ruins of
pueblos four stories high, and with walls two feet thick ; aqueducts,
reservoirs, irrigating canals, and regular fortifications. Along the
cliffs in many places are multitudes of caves dug into the solid
rock, where the inhabitants seem to have taken refuge and made a
last stand against an invading foe. These caves are often twenty
feet deep, and closed by mason work of stone and cement still
well preserved. These retreats are only accessible by means of
ladders, or by narrow paths along the edge of projecting crags,
where a single false step would plunge one to inevitable destruc-
tion. In the larger caves, the front wall is bastioned and loop-
holed ; while in the ceiling of the principal room is a man-hole
enabling one to enter a series of chambers with which the whole
mountain is honeycombed. In the thick deposit of bat-lime
which now covers the floor, are broken pieces of pottery like
those found so abundantly in the ruined villages along the river
valleys. The timbers used in the various rooms were evidently
cut with stone hatchets. The chambers are dark and the walls
are yet black with the smoke from the fires of the ancient cave-
dwellers.

One can but speculate on the fearful struggle which appar-
ently forced this people to leave their fortified villages and
cultivated fields, and to hew for themselves asylums in the rock ;
the long months and years during which they continued the con-
test in their mountain fortresses ; the details of this final death-
struggle ; and when and how the last of this host yielded, and
the nation was blotted out of existence.

INDIAN DIALECTS. 13

THE JMOF^TH AMERICAN IJMDI/1N3.

The first inhabitants of whom we have any definite knowledge
are the Indians — so named because the earliest European explorers
of this country supposed they had reached the eastern coast of
India. The total number of these aborigines, at that time within
the present limits of the United States, was probably four hundred
thousand, of whom about one-half lived east of the Mississippi.
They all had much the same look, and doubtless a common origin.
They were, however, divided into numerous tribes and spoke
different languages. Diligent study of these tongues has classed
them all into, perhaps, seven great families — the Algonquin, the
Iroquois, the Mobilian, the Dakotah or Sioux, the Cherokee, the
Catawba, and the Shoshonee. These are the names by which
they are commonly known to us, but not, in general, those used
among the natives. The terms Huron, Iroquois, etc., are only
nick-names given by the whites ; Sioux is an Algonquin appella-
tion. The various tribes were divided into clans, each with its
own symbol, as a tortoise, deer, snipe, or hawk, often tattooed on
the warrior's breast. Over the clan was a chief or sachem, who
represented it at the grand councils and governed it according
to custom and tradition.

^^^^

INDIAN SYMBOLS.

The Algonquins dwelt along the Atlantic coast from Cape
Fear northward, and were those with whom the Jamestown and
Plymouth colonists alike came in contact. The Narragansetts,
Pequods, Massachusetts, Mohegans, Manhattans, Delawares,
Powhatans, Shawnees, Miamis, Illinois, Sacs, and Foxes, were
tribes of this wide-spread family. Their memory is perpetuated
by the histories of Pocahontas, Powhatan, Massasoit, King
Philip, Black Hawk, Tecumseh, and Pontiac.

The Iroquois occupied a territory in the heart of the Algon-
quin region — a tract south of Lake Ontario, covering the head-
waters of the Susquehanna, Delaware, and Ohio, which General

14 EARLY HISTORY OF AMERICA.

Scott well termed the " strategic centre " of the United States.
Here was the home of the Five Nations, so famous in all the colonial
wars. Here Red Jacket and Joseph Brandt figured as characters
more like ancient Romans than wild forest Indians. In the time
of their greatest prosperity this confederacy did not number over
fifteen thousand, and it could not send out much over two thou-
sand warriors. But they were fierce, bloodthirsty, and restless
for conquest. Pushing along the valleys from their headquarters
on the great watershed of Central New York, they carried their
triumphant arms to the soil of Kentucky and Virginia. Their
power was felt to the Kennebec on the east and the Illinois on the
west. The Delaware tribe was triumphantly and ignominiously
styled their " woman." Of the five nations, the Mohawk was the
most dreaded. When, among the peaceful Indians along the
Connecticut, a messenger stalked into their council-room exclaim-
ing, '* The Mohawks are come to suck your blood," there was no
thought of safety except in flight or submission.

The Mobilians stretched along the Gulf from the Atlantic to
the Rio Grande. They comprised within their limits the com-
paratively insignificant tribes, of the Uchee and the Natchez. The
Creeks, Seminoles, Choctaws, and the Chickasaws are interwoven
with the later history of the country at the south, as the Sioux,
Miamis, Illinois, Sacs, etc., are on the north.

The separate languages were completely organized, though no
savage had ever attempted their analysis, or knew anything
about sounds, letters, or syllables. The study of their speech
by Europeans has shown many peculiarities. Thus the Algon-
quins had no // the Choctaws no d; the Iroquois, except the
Oneidas, whose tongue was soft and liquid, no /. The Algonquins
loved consonants, while every word in the Cherokee ended in a
vowel. They all lacked abstract or general terms. The Algon-
quins, for example, had no word for oak, but a name for each kind
of oak. There was no word for fishing, but a specific name for
fire-fishing, net-fishing, etc. They always compounded words so
as to express new ideas. Thus, as the Indian never kneels, when
Eliot, the famous New England missionary, wished to translate
that thought, he was forced to use a definition merely, and the
compound word is eleven syllables long — wutappessittukqus-
sonnoowehtunkquot. The Indians never said " father " alone, but
always included with it a possessive pronoun. Consequently the
Doxology used by Christian Indians reads, '' Our Father, his Son,

THE NORTH AMERICAN INDIANS.

and their Holy Ghost." Their tongues were thus peculiarly syn-
thetic, and often subject, predicate, and object were conjugated
as one word. The Cherokee language had but eighty-five sylla-
bles, which were analyzed by an educated Indian known as George
Guess, who assigned a character to each. Thus one may learn to
read and write this tongue in a very short time. The Indians
had no written language, though they used on occasions a species
of hieroglyphics or picture-writing. A series of rude symbols
scratched on a tree or rock gave any information desired.
Schoolcraft gives the following, used by his Indian guides to
inform their comrades that a company of fourteen whites and
two Indians had spent the night at that point. Nos. 9, 10 indi-
cate the white soldiers and their arms ; No. i is the captain, with
a sword ; No. 2 the secretary, with the book ; No. 3 the geolo-
gist, with a hammer ; Nos. 7, 8 are the guides, without hats ; Nos.
II, 12 show what they ate in camp ; Nos. 13, 14, 15 indicate how
many fires they made :

SPECIMEN OF INDIAN PICTURB-WRITING.

The Indian was a barbarian. His condition was that known
in geology as the Stone Age of man, since his implements and
tools were made of that material. His stone hatchet was so rude
that to cut down a large forest tree would have required a month's
time. He had no horse, cow, or other domestic animal of burden.
He had no knowledge of any metals except gold, silver, and
copper, and these to a very limited extent. Labor he considered
as degrading, and fit only for women. His squaw, therefore,
built his wigwam, cut his wood, and carried his burdens when he

1 6 EARLY HISTORY OF AMERICA.

journeyed. While he hunted or fished, she cleared the land for
his corn by burning down the trees, scratched the ground with a
crooked stick or hoed it with a clam-shell, and dressed skins for
his clothing. She cooked his food by dropping hot stones into a
tight willow basket containing materials for soup. The leavings
of her lord's feast sufficed for her, and the coldest place in the
wigwam was her seat. He rarely spoke to his wife or children.
He would sit on the ground for days, leaning his elbows on his
knees in stupid silence. He was crafty and cruel. His word was
no protection. False and cunning, he never hesitated to violate a
treaty when his passions prompted him to hatred. He was hos-
pitable, and the door of his wigwam was always open to any
comer, who had but to enter, sit down at the fire, and to be
served without a word. He would give up his own mat or skin
that his guest or a passing traveler might rest thereon. He
remembered a benefit and often saved his benefactor at the peril
of his life. He loved to gain his end by stratagem and rarely
met an enemy in fair fight. No victory was prized when the
conquest cost the life of a warrior. He could endure great
fatigue, and in his expeditions often lay without shelter in severest
weather. It was his glory to bear the most horrible tortures
without sign of pain.

An Indian wigwam at the best was only a temporary shelter.
It was built of bark resting on poles, and had an opening at the
top to let out the smoke and let in the light. The fire was built
on the ground at the centre. The lodge was moved from place
to place whenever fancy suggested. The most frequent reason
was the scarcity of game or fuel. Indeed, it is said that when the
whites first came to this country the Indians supposed it to be
because they had consumed all the wood in their own land, and
that they were in quest of fuel. The Iroquois built larger and
more permanent dwellings. These were often thirty or forty and
sometimes over two hundred feet in length, each inhabited by
several families. Many of these were irregularly gathered in a
town, on the bank of some river or lake, where they were fortified,
perhaps, by a palisade and deep ditch. '* A person entering one
of these wigwams on a winter's evening might have beheld," says
Parkman, '' a strange spectacle ; the vista of fires lighting the smoky
concave ; the bronzed groups encircling each — cooking, eating,
gambling, or amusing themselves with idle badinage ; wrinkled
squaws, hideous with three-score years of hardship ; grizzly old

THE NORTH AMERICAN INDIANS.

warriors, scarred with war-club and tomahawk ; young aspirants,
whose honors were yet to be won ; damsels, gay with ochre and
wampum ; and restless children, pell-mell with restless dogs.
Now a tongue of resinous flame painted each wild feature in vivid
light ; now the fitful gleam expired, and the group vanished from
sight as the nation has from history."

INDIAN LIFE.

The Indians married young, the girls at thirteen or fourteen,
and the boys by eighteen. Meanwhile the latter were required
to show their manhood by long endurance of famine and by
bringing in plenty of game. A marriageable girl wore an adver-
tisement of the fact upon her head. The marriage ceremony
often consisted of nothing more than the bride's bringing to the
bridegroom a dish of cooked corn and an armful of fuel.

War and the chase were the natural state of the Indian. The
battle-field and the hunting-ground contained everything of
special honor or value. The bow was placed in the boy's hands
as soon as he could grasp it. His training henceforth was to
shoot the arrow, to glide upon the snow-shoe, to hurl the toma-
hawk, and to cast the spear. To dance the war-dance, to sing the
war-song, to go forth on the war-path, to lie in wait for his
enemy, and to bring back the scalp of one whom he had slain, were

EARLY HISTORY OF AMERICA.

his highest delight. Two or three warriors roaming through
the forest, with only a bag of pounded corn hanging at the side
for food, would watch a hostile village or party for weeks, hiding
in rocks or thickets, awaiting a chance for a surprise, to assassi-
nate a defenceless man, woman, or child ; then hastily cutting off
the scalp, as proof of their prowess, would hurry home again in
triumph. The war party marched in single file, the chief in
advance, while the last one erased the tracks they had made. A
captive was often brutally mangled before reaching the village of

AN INDIAN FAMILY MOVING.

his captors. Here he was obliged to run the gauntlet between a
double row of its entire population, who turned out to receive
him, each inflicting a blow as he passed. The council decided
his fate. He might be adopted into some family, to supply the
place of a lost member, or be sentenced to the torture. This was
too horrible for description. The body was gashed with knives,
the hair and beard were torn out, the fingers and toes were
wrenched off, the flesh was seared with red-hot stones and punc-
tured with sharpened sticks ; and finally the bleeding, mangled
body was tied to a stake and burned to ashes. "W hile life lasted
the victim of their cruelty uttered no groan, but sang the war-
song of his clan, boasted of his exploits, told the names of those
whom he had slain, and taunted them with their unskilfulness in
devising tortures in comparison with those which he had himself
inflicted on their kinsmen.

1492.] DISCOVERY OF AMERICA. I9

The religion of the Indian varied greatly in different tribes.
Those of New England had no word for God, and there is no
evidence of a religious ceremony among them. The Iroquois
had faith in a Great Spirit, and in happy hunting-grounds where
the departed warrior might hope to hunt and feast and be as lazy
as he pleased. The Natchez had temples for the worship of the
sun, and sacred fires which were never allowed to expire. The
Indians believed in protecting spirits, who cared not alone for
human beings but even for animals. They were cautious about
giving them any offence, frequently offering them gifts to pro-
pitiate their favor. They handled carefully the bones of beaver,
buffalo, deer, and other game, lest the spirits of the dead might
inform those of the living, and teach them to escape the hunter's
toils. They would often talk to animals as if they were human
beings, and beg their pardon for having wounded them, explain-
ing the necessity which compelled the attack, and exhorting the
sufferer to endure the pain so as not to bring disgrace on his
family. The Indian invoked the aid of these various powers,
whose presence he acknowledged in nature, and implicitly relied
on their protection. He was anxious to have such a guardian for
himself. The young Chippewa, for example, retired to a solitary
lodge in the forest, blackened his face, and fasted for days, that he
might become pure and exalted enough to behold in a vision his
protecting deity. Everywhere there was an idea of sin which
was to be atoned for, of the duty of self-denial and sacrifice, and
of rewards and punishments for good and evil. So prevalent was
this sentiment that Le Clercq thought one of the apostles must
have reached America and taught the Indians the sublime
truths of Revelation.

DIgCOVEF(Y OF AJVIERICA.

As early as the tenth century, the Northmen settled Green-
land, whence, according to the Icelandic Sagas, their venture-
some sailors pushed westward, discovering Newfoundland, Nova
Scotia, and Vinland or Vineland, which is generally supposed to
be the coast of New England. After that, other adventurers
repeatedly visited the New World, explored the country, and
bartered with the natives. A rich Icelander, named Thorfinn

THE EARLY HISTORY OF AMERICA.

[1492.

NORMAN SHIP (FROM THE BAYEUX TAPESTRY).

Karlsefni, spent three winters on the coast of Massachusetts,
where his wife bore him a son named Snorre, said to be the

first child born of Euro-
pean parents in this coun-
try. The Northmen, how-
ever, finally forgot the
way across the ocean,
and almost the existence
of the Vinland their an-
cestors had discovered.
They left behind them,
so far as we know, not a
trace of their occupation,
and were it not for their
legends, we should not
have dreamed that they
ever visited our shores.
The old stone tower at
Newport, Rhode Island,
long thought to have been erected by the Norsemen, is very like
some which are still standing in the part of England from which
Governor Arnold came ; while the singular inscription on the
rock at Dighton was quite probably made by the Indians.

Centuries passed in which no vessel essayed the forgotten
•assage across the far-stretching Atlantic. The shadows of the
Middle Ages were dispersed, and Europe
was kindling with newly awakened life.
The Crusades had developed the mari-
time importance of such Italian cities as
Genoa, Pisa, and Venice. A taste for
luxury had grown and strengthened.
The art of printing by movable types
had just been invented, and books of
travel were eagerly read. Marco Polo
and other eastern travelers had told the
most marvelous stories of Asiatic coun-
tries, of " Cathay" (China) and the good-
liest island of " Cipango " (Japan), where
the soil sparkled with rubies and diamonds, and pearls were as
plentiful as pebbles. An extensive trade had been opened up with
the East. The shawls, spices, precious stones, and silks of India

THE ANCIENT TOWER AT NEWPORT.

1492.]

DISCOVERY OF AMERICA.

and Persia were brought to Europe, and sold in the Western marts.
But the route was tedious. The goods were borne by caravans
to the Red Sea, carried by camels to the Nile, and thence shipped
across the Mediterranean to Italy. The problem of the age was
how to reach the East by sea, and thus transport these rich pro-
ducts in ships directly to Europe. The earth was generally be-
lieved to be a great flat plain, washed on every side by one vast
ocean. A few wise geographers had already conceived the novel
idea of its rotundity. But, in their calculations the globe was
very much smaller than we now know it to be, and Asia extended
much further to the east ; so, by sailing westward from Europe
they expected, perhaps by a short voyage, to reach the eastern
shore of their own continent, which was to them the only one in
the world. ^* It is singular," says Washington Irving, " how much
the success of this great undertaking depended upon two happy
errors, the imaginary extent of Asia to
the East, and the supposed smallness
of the earth ; both, errors of the most
learned and profound philosophers,
but without which Columbus would
hardly have ventured upon his en-
terprise." Christopher Columbus, a
learned navigator of Genoa, enthusi-
astically adopted these views. Many
events conspired to confirm his belief.
A globe, published by Martin Behaim,
one of Columbus's friends, in 1492 — the
very year Columbus made his west-
ward voyage — shows very clearly the current idea at that time.
It is curious to notice how in this map the dry details of geography
are - enlivened by mermaids with golden tresses and azure eyes,
sea-serpents, and various monsters supposed to inhabit these un-
known regions.

A westerly gale washed on the coast of Portugal a piece of
curiously carved wood. At the Madeiras, canes of a tropical
growth were picked up on the beach, and once the bodies of two
men of an unknown race were cast upon the shore. At last,
Columbus determined to test the new theory by actually under-
taking the perilous voyage. Eighteen years of weary waiting
followed. He sought aid in Genoa, Venice, and Portugal ; but in
vain. Finally, after innumerable repulses, he obtained an audience

^^^^i^^M^L S.

^Kv,%

COLUMBUS.

EARLY HISTORY OF AMERICA.

[1492.

THE EASTERN HEMISPHERE.— /V^w BehainCs Glche^ 1492.

with Ferdinand and Isabella of Spain. His demands seeming
extravagant, he was refused. He left the court, and was already
two leagues away, when Isabella, convinced of the grandeur of
his scheme, called him back and pledged her own jewels to raise
the necessary funds. This sacrifice, however, was not needed, as
the court treasurer advanced money for the outfit. Three ships
were equipped — the Santa Maria, the Pinta, and the Nina. The
first only was decked, the other two being merely open boats, or
caravels. The sailors were many of them impressed, the bravest
seamen shrinking from this hazardous undertaking. Columbus
sailed from Palos, August 3, 1492. Touching only at the Cana-
ries, he struck out boldly to the west.

Forty days had come and gone. Fresh terrors were born in
the hearts of his fearful crew. All the laws of nature seemed

1492.]

DISCOVERY OF AMERICA.

THE WESTERN HEMISPHERE.— i^row Behatnt's Globe, 149a.

changing. The needle no longer pointed to the star in the north,
and they were alone, without a guide, in the vast, trackless ocean.
The trade-winds blew them steadily westward, and there was no
hope of returning against it. They came into the Sargasso Sea,
and now they should certainly perish in the stagnant waters.
At times, signs of land appeared, and their hearts revived as they
saw in the distant horizon the semblance of a shore. But it was
only the clouds which mocked their hopes, and which faded away,
leaving them still on a boundless sea. Still the days came and
went, and still their prows, westward bent, pointed only to

" Long ridgy waves their white manes rearing,
And in the broad gleam disappearing ;
The broadened, blazing sun declining,
And western waves, like fire-floods, shining.'*

(

EARLY HISTORY OF AMERICA.

[1492.

COLUMBUS DISCOVERING LAND.

At last they became turbu-
lent and clamorous. They
exclaimed against Colum-
bus as a wild fanatic. They
thought of their far-away
homes, and demanded a
return from this hopeless

voyage. They even resolved to throw the admiral overboard if

he persisted in a refusal. But his iron will beat down their feebler

purposes, and he sternly reminded

them that the expedition had been

sent out to seek the Indies, and

added that, happen what might, by

God's blessing, he should persevere

until he accomplished the enterprise.
The very next day brought new

hope. Fresh -water weeds floated

past their ships; a branch of thorn

with berries on it ; and, above all, a

carved staff", which they eagerly ex-
amined. Not only land, but inhab-
ited land was before them. In the

evening, Columbus, standing on the

prow of his vessel, saw a light faintly

glimmering in the horizon. At two ^ ^^^^^^^ ,^^^^^,

in the morning, a shot from the (From a drawing attributed to Columbus.]

1492.]

DISCOVERY OF AMERICA.

Pinta announced the joyful intelligence that land was in sight.
The dream of Columbus was realized at last. On that mem-
orable Friday morning, October 12, 1492, a shore, green with
tropical verdure, lay smiling before him. The perfume of flowers
filled the air, and beautiful birds hovered round singing, as it were,
'' the songs of the angels." Clad in scarlet, and bearing in his
hand the royal banner of Spain, he stepped upon the land, kissing
it in an overflow of joy and gratitude. Thanking God for His
goodness, and planting the sacred cross, he took formal posses-
sion of the country in the name of Ferdinand and Isabella. He
called the island San Salvador. Believing that he had reached

COLUMBUS TAKING POSSESSION.

the islands lying off" the eastern coast of India, he named them
the West Indies, and the simple natives who flocked down to
the shore to witness his arrival he called Indians. Afterward
Columbus visited Cuba and Hayti. He actually sent an envoy
to a chief in the interior of Cuba, supposing him to be the king
of Tartary. Hayti he thought to be the Ophir of Solomon.

On his return to Spain, Columbus was received with the great-
est enthusiasm. He was accorded the rare honor of telling his
story seated in the presence of the king and queen. When he
dilated upon the plants, birds, gold, and, above all, the natives who
might yet be converted to the true faith, the two sovereigns fell
upon their knees, while the choir sang a hymn of thanksgiving.

EARLY HISTORY OF AMERICA.

[1498.

TOMB OF COLUMBUS AT HAVANA.

Columbus afterward made three other voyages of discovery.
In 1498 he reached the mouth of the Orinoco, which he con-
sidered the great river Gihon, having
its source in the Garden of Eden. His
good fortune, however, had long since
deserted him. Malice and envy did
their worst. He was sent home from
Hispaniola in chains, and died at last
a worn-out, disgraced old man, igno-
rant of the fact that he had discovered
a New World.

Meanwhile, to other European eyes
than those of Columbus had been grant-
ed the first sight of the mainland. John
Cabot, a Venetian, sailing under a com-
mission from Henry VII. of England,
discovered Cape Breton, probably in
1494. He, however, like Columbus,
was seeking the route to the Indies, and supposed this to be the
territory of the " Great Cham," king of Tartary. Sebastian Cabot
continued his father's explorations, and sailed along the coast as
far south as Maryland. He became convinced that it was not the
eastern coast of Asia, but a new continent, that had been discov-
ered. As Vasco de Gama, a Portuguese, about this time (1498)
rounded the Cape of Good Hope, and found the long-sought way
to the East, little attention was paid to the discoveries of Cabot.
" He gave a continent to England," says Biddle, " yet no man can
point to the few feet of earth she has allowed him in return."
The New World was not destined to receive its name from either
Cabot or Columbus. Amerigo Vespucci, an Italian navigator,
and a friend of Columbus, accompanied an expedition which
reached the continent, and on his return wrote some letters de-
scribing his discoveries. These were published by a German
geographer, who proposed that the new country should be called
America, in honor of his hero. People liked the name, and it
goon came into general use.

CHAPTER II

EX(PL0(kAT10J^S AJ^(1) SETTLEMEJ^TS.

D VENTURERS, thirsting for gold and glory,
now flocked to America — the land of wonder
and mystery. Spanish, French, and English
were eager to explore this new and richer
Cathay. Ponce de Leon, an aged cava-
lier, sailed in search of a miraculous foun-
tain said to exist somewhere in the regions
discovered by Columbus, whose magical
waters, flowing over beds of gold and
gems, would ensure to the old a second
youth and vigor. He did not find the fountain, but he came
in sight of a land blooming with flowers. It was Easter Sun-
day (15 12), a day which the Spaniards call Pascua Florida, or
Flowery Easter. So he gave the name Florida to this beautiful
region.

The following year Balboa crossed the Isthmus of Darien, and
from the top of the Andes first caught sight of the wide expanse
of the Pacific Ocean glittering in the morning sun. Reverently
kneeling, he thanked God for the wonderful vision. Descending
to the shore, he waded into the water, bearing his drawn sword
in one hand and the banner of Castile in the other, taking pos-
session of the ocean, and all the coasts washed by its waters, for
the crown of Spain.

Cortez, with a handful of followers, took possession of Mexico
and all the fabulous wealth of the Montezumas. Pizarro con-
quered Peru, and revelled in the riches of the Incas.

De Soto, with a chosen band, explored the fastnesses of
Florida, hoping to find *' a second Mexico with its royal palace
and sacred pyramids, or another Cuzco with its Temple of the
Sun enriched with a frieze of gold." Gay cavaliers with helmet

EARLY HISTORY OF AMERICA.

[1541.

and lance, priests with holy vestments and vessels, marched
through the wilderness for years. With the fluttering of ban-
ners and the clangor of trumpets, they followed the ignis fatuus

DE SOTO'S MARCH,

of gold and treasure they hoped to find. Thus they traversed
Georgia, Alabama, and Mississippi. In 1541 they discovered the
Mississippi River. Beneath its muddy waters De Soto himself

found a grave. It was all the New
World had to give its most knightly
adventurer.

The French eagerly followed in
the footsteps of the Spaniards.
Verazzani, a Florentine in the ser-
vice of Francis I., coasted along the
shores of Carolina and New Jersey,
and entered the present harbors
of Newport and New York. He
named the country New France,
and claimed it all for his king.
The report published on his re-
turn was the earliest account given of the eastern coast of the
United States. He thought the savages were "like the people

JACQUES CARTIER.

1534.]

FRENCH EXPLORATIONS.

in the uttermost parts of China," and that the country was '' not
void of drugs and spices and other riches of gold, seeing that the
color of the land doth so much
argue it." In 1534, Cartier dis-
covered a magnificent river,
which, the next year, he ascended
to the present site of Montreal. In
honor of the day, he named the
part of the gulf he entered, St.
Lawrence — a term that has since
spread to the river and the rest
of the gulf.

Coligny, the famous French
admiral, formed a plan of found-
ing an empire in the New World
which should offer an asylum to
the distressed Huguenots. It was to be a colony based on
religious ideas. This was half a century before the Piignms

ADMIRAL COLIGNY.

EXPLORATIONS AND SETTLEMENTS.

[1562.

landed at Plymouth. The attempt seemed full of promise, *' but
no Mayflower ever sailed from a French port." Jean Ribaut
commanded the first expedition (1562). He landed at Port Royal.
The company were delighted with the novelty of the wild forest
scenes. The new land seemed to them '* the finest, fruitfulest, and
pleasantest of all the world." A fort was erected, and named
Carolina, after Charles IX. of France. Thirty men were selected
to remain, while Ribaut returned to France. This little party
was now alone with the savage and the wilderness. They found
no gold. Hunger came, and home-sickness. The green woods
became a dismal prison, and the solitude a terror. They resolved
to escape at every peril. Building a frail bark, they turned the
prow toward France. A storm shattered their ship. At last, to
avoid starvation, they killed and ate one of their own number,
whom the lot decided should die for the rest. This horrible food
only prolonged their lives for a new misfortune. After perils
and sufferings untold, they had just come in sight of their own
cherished coast when they were taken prisoners and carried to
England.

Two years afterward a second attempt was made by Laudon-
ni^re, and a fort built on St. John's River, or the River of May, as
they styled it. Here his company of adventurers, greedy of gain

and of gold, quar-
reled among them-
selves, fought with
the Indians, and,
too lazy to till the
land, starved as
easily and slowly
as they could.
But the Spanish
were by riO means
willing to relin-
quish their claim
to Florida — as all
North America
was at that time

THE OLD GATEWAY AT ST. AUGUSTINE, FLORIDA.

called by them.
Melendez, a brutal soldier, was sent by Philip II. to occupy Florida
and drive out the French. They sighted land on St. Augustine's
day (August 28, 1565). The foundations of a town, now the oldest

1565.] ENGLISH EXPLORATIONS. 3I

in the United States, were soon laid and named in honor of that
saint. Burning with zeal, Menendez, with five hundred soldiers,
then hurried northward through the wilderness, and in the midst
of a terrible tempest attacked the French fort and massacred
nearly all the colonists.

Charles IX. did nothing to avenge the deed. A bold Gascon,
Dominique de Gourges, however, equipped a fleet at his own
expense, sailed across the ocean, stormed the Spanish forts on
the River of May, and put the garrison to the sword, under the
very trees where they had slaughtered the captured Huguenots.
Thus ended, for a time, the French attempts in the New World.

During the reign of Queen Elizabeth, the English made
repeated efforts to explore and colonize this country. Frobisher,
seeking in vain to find the northwest passage to India, entered
Baffin's Bay, and claimed the whole country for the crown of
England. Drake, following in the footsteps of Magellan, rounded
Cape Horn, ascended the western shore of America as far as
the present boundary of Oregon, and, returning, refitted his
ship in some harbor of California (1579). Sir Humphrey Gilbert
sought to establish a colony in Newfoundland. Returning home
in the Squirrel, a little bark of ten tons, it was overtaken by a
fearful storm. Sitting aft, with a book in his hand, Gilbert was
heard to cry out to his companions in the other ship, "We are
as near Heaven by sea as by land." That night the lights of the
Squirrel suddenly disappeared, and neither ship nor sailors were
ever seen again. Gilbert's half-brother, the famous Sir Walter
Raleigh, having secured a patent for a vast extent of territory
which he called Virginia, in honor of the "Virgin Queen" of
England, made several unsuccessful attempts to establish settle-
ments therein. The first colony was planted on Roanoke Island
(1585). Instead of tilling the ground^ the settlers hunted for gold.
Finding none, they were only too glad to return home with
Drake, who happened to stop there on one of his buccaneering
expeditions. They brought back with them the weed which the
lethargic Indians used for smoking, and the custom of " drinking
tobacco," as it was called, soon became exceedingly popular, in
spite of the anathemas of the physicians, the Puritans, and even
of King James himself, who wrote a tract against its use. It is
said that one day, when Raleigh was sitting in his study privately
practicing this new accomplishment, his servant entered with a
tankard of ale. Seeing his master with a cloud of smoke issuing

EXPLORATIONS AND SETTLEMENTS.

[1587.

from his mouth, the terrified domestic dashed the ale in his face as
a partial extinguisher, and rushed down the stairs screaming for
instant help, for Sir Walter would soon be burnt to ashes.

Another colony
was now sent to
Virginia. It hap-
pily consisted of
families. The pre-
sence of woman
brought cheerful-
ness and beauty,
and in the pros-
pect of home cir-
cles and influence
it bade fair to be
permanent. The
" City of Raleigh "
was founded on
the site of the
former settlement.
A faithful Indian
chief was here bap-
tized and received the rank of a feudal
baron — Lord of Roanoke. Here, also,
was born the first child of English parents on
the soil of the United States — Virginia Dare, grand-daughter of
Governor White. The threatened invasion of the Armada occu-
pying the attention of England, it was three years before supplies
were sent out to the infant colony. When at last the long-delayed
ship sailed into the harbor she found it silent as the grave.
The homes were all deserted, and not a living thing remained
to tell the fate of their once hopeful occupants. On the
trunk of a tree was found carved the name of a distant island,
Croatan. The lateness of the season forbade any attempt to seek
the island, and, appalled by the desolation and ruin which they
beheld, the fleet returned without leaving a settler behind. To
this day the " Lost Colony of Roanoke " remains a mystery.

A century had now passed since the discovery of America, but
ae yet neither English nor French had planted a permanent colony,
save in the graves of their heroic adventurers. The Spaniards
had, north of the Gulf of Mexico, only a feeble settlement at

1600.]

SETTLEMENT OF VIRGINIA.

St. Augustine and another at

Santa F6. The difficulties

which attended the passage

of the Atlantic, the perils of

the wilderness, the treachery

of the Indians, all conspix^ed to prevent the rapid colonization of

the New World. The experience of every attempt could be

summed up in the quaint language of the English company under

Captain Popham, " We found only extreme extremities."

Early in the seventeenth century, several successful trading
voyages called the attention of English merchants and noblemen
to the question of iVmerican colonization. King James I. accord-
ingly divided the vast territory called Virginia, extending from
Cape Fear to Passamaquoddy Bay, between two rival companies,
the London and the Plymouth. The former was to have the
southern, and the latter the northern portion; and, to prevent
disputes, their settlements were to be at least one hundred miles
apart. All the region south of this grant was known as Florida,
and all north, as New France. A book of the time defines Vir-
ginia as " that country of the earth which the ancients called
Mormosa, between Florida and New France."
3

EXPLORATIONS AND SETTLEMENTS.

[1607.

gETTtZ:j\1ENT OF V1F(Q1JN1A.

On April 26, 1607, a fleet of three vessels sent out by the
London Company entered Chesapeake Bay. Captain John
Smith, afterward called " The Father of Virginia," was on board,
but in chains, a victim to the jealousy of meaner men. As they
rode into that magnificent harbor, they passed two headlands,
which they called Charles and Henry, after their young princes
at home. The good anchorage inside suggested the name Old
Point Comfort, and the noble stream they now ascended was
styled James River, after the king. Their first settlement was

also loyally christened James-
town. The crumbling, ivy-
clad church tower still stand-
ing on the banks of the James,
about fifty miles from its mouth,
marks the site of the oldest Eng-
lish settlement in the United
States. The colonists were
poorly qualified for the work
they had undertaken. There
were no families, yet they were
to establish homes in the wil-
derness. There were houses
to build, yet they numbered
only four carpenters to forty-
eight labor -despising gentle-
men. They were to lay the
foundations of a colony, yet they had but twelve laborers. The
first year, the gentlemen spent their time in searching for gold,
when they should have been planting corn. Food soon became
scarce. Before autumn, sickness swept away half their number.
Wingfield, the president of fhe council appointed by the king for
their government, was unfaithful and avaricious, and even tried
to escape to the Indies with the best of their scanty stores.

Smith, by the power of his genius, now rose to command.
"He proved more wakeful to gather provisions than the covet-
ous were to find gold ; and strove to keep the country more than
the faint-hearted to abandon it." He declared that "He who
will not work may not eat." He was the first to clearly compre«

THE RUINS AT JAMESTOWN.

1607.]

SETTLEMENT OF VIRGINIA.

hend that nothing was to be gained by the colony except through
labor. He taught the gentlemen to swing the axe until they
became accomplished wood-cutters. Enforcing morality as well
as industry, he kept an account of all profanity, and at night
poured a cup of cold water down the sleeves of the offenders.
Yet the colonists, we are told, " built a church that cost fifty
pounds and a tavern that cost five hundred." Smith wrote home :
'' I entreat you rather send but thirty carpenters, husbandmen,
gardeners, fishermen, blacksmiths, masons, and diggers -up of
trees' roots than a thousand such as we have."

SMITH SHOWING HIS COMPASS TO THE INDIANS.

Meanwhile, Smith made many expeditions, cultivating the
friendship of the Indians, exploring the country, and bringing
back supplies of food for the colony. He went northward as far
as Maine, and on one of his maps the names " Plymouth " and
''Cape Ann" first appear. In an expedition up the Chesapeake,
he was taken prisoner by the Indians. With great coolness he
amused his captors by an astronomical lecture, exhibiting his
compass, and showing them how " the sun did chase the night
round about the world continually." They allowed him to send
letters to Jamestown, and, having no idea of a written language
themselves, were astonished at his making the paper talk to his
friends of his condition. With commendable forethought, the gun-
powder taken from him was carefully laid aside for planting the

EXPLORATIONS AND SETTLEMENTS.

[1608.

next year. The illustrious captive was carried from place to place
over the same peninsula since rendered famous by McClellan's
campaign. On being brought to the great chief Powhatan, his
good fortune seemed to fail him, and he was condemned to die.
According to Smith's account, his head was laid on a stone, and
the Indian's war-club was raised to strike the final blow, when
Pocahontas, the young daughter of the chief, whose love the cap-
tive had won, rushed forward, threw her arms about his neck
and arrested the descending blow. Powhatan, touched by this
act of devotion, released the prisoner.

The little Indian maiden often thereafter aided the colonists,
bringing them food and warning them of danger. She grew

up to be a beauti-
-^^Iv-. ful woman and was

converted to the
Christian religion.
In the little church
at Jamestown she
was baptized from
the pine trough
which was used as
a font, and in her
broken English plighted her faith to
a young planter named John Rolfe. In
6i6 he took his dusky wife to England.
Lady Rebecca, as she was called, ^'the
first Christian ever of her nation," by her
naive simplicity and goodness, won universal
admiration. It is said, however, that King
James was jealous of Rolfe, fearing that, " hav-
ing married an Indian princess, he might lay claim to the crown
of Virginia." So high did the tide of royalty run in those days
that Rolfe came near being called to account for having pre-
sumed, a private person, to marry into the royal family of even a
petty Indian tribe. Owing to this same jealousy. Smith dared
not allow Rebecca to call him father, as she had been accustomed
to do. Just as she was preparing to return to her wilderness
home, Lady Rebecca died, leaving, however, a son, from whom
some of the most distinguished families of Virginia have been
"croud to boast their descent.

Meanwhile, Smith was wounded and forced to return to

POCAHONTAS.

1609.] SETTLEMENT OF VIRGINIA. 37

England. He never received for all his services a foot of ground,
not even the house he had built, nor the land he had cultivated.
Deprived of his care, everything went to ruin. A winter of hor-
rible famine — long remembered in their annals as the ^' Starving
Time" — ensued. Thirty of their number seized a ship and
turned pirates. In six months the colony was reduced from five
hundred to sixty. These fled in despair from the terrible place —
some even bent upon burning the town where they had suffered so
fearfully. As, dropping down the river, they neared the open
sea, they met their new governor, Lord Delaware, coming with
supplies. A sudden revulsion of feeling followed. Overawed at
the change in their condition, they returned to their deserted
homes with a chastened joy. ** It is the Lord of Hosts ! " said
they ; " God will raise our state and build his church in this
excellent clime."

Now came better times. A new charter was obtained from
the king. The council in London, which had heretofore stupidly
tried to govern the colony, was abolished. The settlers obtained
*'a hande in governing of themselves." July 30, 1619, the first
legislative body was assembled in America. It consisted of the
governor, council, and the house of burgesses, or deputies from the
different boroughs or plantations. Every freeman had the right
to vote. A written constitution was granted, and the foundations
of civil liberty were laid in Virginia. A hardier and better class
of men began to flock to the New World. New settlements
were established and plantations lined both banks of the James
Kiver as far as the present site of Richmond.

Tobacco had proved a valuable article of export. It was
cultivated so eagerly that at one time the gardens and even the
public squares and streets of Jamestown were planted with it.
The production of this staple greatly increased the demand for
labor. At first "apprenticed servants" were sent over from
England and bound out to the planters for a term of years ; being
often men who had committed some crime or had rebelled
against the government. In 161 9, twenty negroes were brought
by a Dutch ship and were quickly purchased by the planters.
From this small beginning sprang the institution of slavery, which
afterward became so important an element in the history of the
United States.

As yet, few of the feebler sex had dared to cross the At-
lantic, but about this time the proprietors sent out a load of

EXPLORATIONS AND SETTLEMENTS.

[1619.

industrious, virtuous young women, who were sold as wives to the
planters for one hundred pounds of tobacco per head. So great
was the demand that, as the records quaintly tell us, " one widow "

who was sent over
in a subsequent lot
went readily with
the rest, and the
price of the " faire
maidens" ran up
to a hundred and
fifty pounds of
the market weed.
Domestic ties
were now formed,
homes established,
and the perma-
nence of the col-
ony was insured.

During the life
of Powhatan,
there was peace
with the Indians,
but after his death they resolved to exter-
minate the colony (1622). Distributing
themselves in small parties, they entered the
houses and even sat down at the tables of those whose death they
were planning. At a given signal they fell upon the whites in all
the outlying plantations. Jamestown fortunately escaped, through
the faithfulness of a converted Indian. A merciless war ensued.
After a second massacre, some years later, the Indians were ex-
pelled from the region, and their rich lands along the York and
the James occupied by the planters.

According to the idea of King James, the London Company
was too willing to grant rights to the colonists. He therefore
took away its charter and made Virginia a royal province
(1624). Thereafter the king appointed the governor and the
council, though the colony retained its assembly. The royal
governors were oftentimes unprincipled men, who ruled for their
own good and not that of the settlers, shovT-ing no sympathy for
the province and no care for the people. The Navigation Acts
passed by the parliament in 1660, which were intended to give

SELLING WIVES TO THE PLANTERS.

1660.] SETTLEMENT OF VIRGINIA. 39

England the control of the trade of the colonies, pressed heavily
on Virginia. They required that the commerce of the colony
should be carried on in English vessels, all their tobacco shipped
to England, and all their goods purchased in that country.

The colony contained few towns or centres of influence. The
cultivation of tobacco, as the great staple, and the introduction of
slaves, naturally led to the establishment of large estates. These
often descended to the eldest son and were perpetuated in the
family. The great proprietors were generally men of intelligence,
accustomed to control. They became the magistrates and mem-
bers of the council and assembly. A powerful landed aris-
tocracy was thus growing up and obtaining rule in the prov-
ince. Virginia was also intensely royal. During the civil war in
England it sided with the king. After the execution of Charles I.
many loyalists took refuge on the shores of the Chesapeake. There
they found " every house a hostelry and every planter a friend."
At one time there was even a possibility of the young prince
coming to the New World. Cromwell, however, sent over a
ship of war to Virginia, and the colonists quickly submitted.

Under the Commonwealth, the People of Virginia were
allowed to elect their own officers and to enjoy all the privileges
of an equal franchise. A change, however, was at hand. The
news of the Restoration of Charles II. aroused transports of joy,
but it was the knell to the political privileges of the common
people. The next assembly (1661) consisted almost entirely of
cavaliers and great landholders. The Church of England was
made that of the colony. All had to contribute to its support.
In each parish a board of vestrymen was appointed, with power
to assess taxes and fill any vacancy in its body. Dissenters
were heavily punished. A fine of twenty pounds was imposed
on absentees from church. Baptists were declared to be " filled
with new-fangled conceits of their own heretical invention." A
member who was thought to be kindly disposed toward the
Quakers was expelled from the Board of Burgesses. The right
of suffrage was confined to freeholders and housekeepers. The
vestrymen became a close corporation and imposed taxes at
pleasure. The assemblymen remained in office after their term
had expired, and voted themselves a daily pay of two hundred
and fifty pounds of tobacco (about nine dollars in value) — an
enormous salary for those days of poverty.

The common people, feeling themselves deprived of the

EXPLORATIONS AND SETTLEMENTS.

[1676.

political rights they had so long enjoyed, were ready for an
uprising. Little knots of men gathered in the gloom of the
woods to talk over their wrongs. A young planter named
Nathaniel Bacon, known in history as the " Virginia Rebel,"
sympathizing with the democracy, became its leader, July, 1676.
Governor Berkeley not proving able to protect the frontier from,
the Indians, Bacon rallied the frightened yeomanr}^, put the In-
dians to rout, and then, returning, forced Berkeley to dissolve the
old assembly and issue writs for a new election. The governor,,
however, failed to keep faith, and civil war broke out. James-
town was burnt, patriots firing their
own houses, lest they might protect
the enemies to their liberty. Bacon
died in the midst of success. Dis-
pirited by his loss,
the people scat-
tered their forc-es.
The principal men
were hunted down
with ferocious
zeal. Hansford,
a gallant native
Virginian, per-
ished on the scaf-
fold, the first mar-
tyr to the cause
of American lib-
erty. His last
words were, ** I
die a loyal subject
and a lover of my
country." As
William Drummond was brought in, the vindictive Berkeley,
bowing low, remarked with cruel mockery, " I am more glad to
see you than any man in Virginia. You shall be hanged in
half an hour." The patriot was condemned at one o'clock and
hanged at four the same day. The gallows received twenty-two
victims, and yet Berkeley's revenge was not satisfied. Charles II.,
when he heard the tidings, impatiently exclaimed, " The old fool
has taken more lives in that naked country than I did for the mur-
der of my father."

DRUMMOND BROUGHT BEFORE BERKELEY.

1676.] SETTLExMENT OF MARYLAND. 41

Berkeley was recalled. But the rebellion had been a century
too early. The governor who succeeded ruled more arbitrarily
than ever. The king appointed all officers of the colony. Even
the members of the assembly were hereafter elected only by free-
holders. Yet as the spirit of liberty spread, the people found
means to thwart their oppressors, and in spite of adverse circum-
stances, the colony grew rapidly in wealth and population.
" There was no need of a scramble ; abundance gushed from the
earth for all. The morasses were alive with water-fowl ; the
creeks abounded with oysters, heaped together in inexhaustible
beds ; the rivers were alive with fish ; the forests were nimble
with game ; the woods rustled with coveys of quails and wild
turkeys, while they rung with the merry notes of singing
birds; and hogs, swarming like vermin, ran at large in. troops.
It was the best poor man's country in the world." In 1688 it
had a population of fifty thousand, and exported twenty-five
thousand hogsheads of tobacco, on which England levied a tax
of one hundred and thirty-five thousand pounds.

gETTX-EMENT Of JVIAF(YX.A]MD.

Lord Baltimore (George Calvert) came to Virginia (1629)^
seeking a refuge for his Catholic brethren, who were then perse-
cuted in England; but finding that persons of his faith were
harshly treated, he secured from the king a grant of land north of
the Potomac, on the annual payment of two Indian arrows and
one-fifth of the gold and silver which might be found. This ter«
ritory received the name Maryland, in honor of the queen, Henri-
etta Maria. Its charter, unlike that granted to Virginia, gave to
all freemen the right of making the laws. All sects were to be
tolerated, and there was to be no interference from the king, nor
any English taxation.

The first colony was founded at an Indian town near the mouth
of the Potomac. Religious liberty obtained a home, its first in
the wide world, at the humble village of St. Mary's. The infant
colony flourished wonderfully. The land had already been tilled
by the Indians and was ready for planting. Food was plenty
and contentment reigned. Tobacco became the staple ; slaves

EXPLORATIONS AND SETTLEMENTS.

[1634.

were introduced ; and much the same manners and customs ob-
tained as in Virginia. There was, for a time, serious difficulty

with a colony of refugees from
Virginia under Clayborne, who
refused to submit to the new gov-
ernment. The Puritans, coming
in large numbers, obtained the
majority over the Catholics.
Two governors were elected;
one Catholic and the other
Protestant. Confusion ensued,
and then civil war. Finally
the Catholics found themselves
disenfranchised in the very col-
ony they had planted. In 171 5,
the fourth Lord Baltimore re-
covered the government, and
religious toleration was again
granted. Maryland remained
under this administration until
the Revolution.

LORD BALTIMORE.

S^>>^i^^<^X^^

gETTLEMflJMT Of PI.YMOUTH COLO]MY.

One stormy day in the fall of 1620, the Mayflower dropped
anchor in the harbor of Cape Cod. It bore a little band of one
hundred and two Pilgrims. They had neither charter from the
king nor the patronage of any company. They were exiles flee-
ing from persecution at home and seeking religious freedom in
the New World. They had expected to settle the milder coun-
try near the Hudson, but instead were borne to the tempestuous
coast of Massachusetts. Before any one landed, they assembled in
the cabin and signed a compact agreeing to submit to such "just and
equal laws" as should be enacted for the "general good." John
Carver was chosen governor. They sailed about for a month seek-
ing a good location for their intended settlement. Meanwhile, Cap-
tain Miles Standish and his soldiers, each armed with coat of mail,
sword, and match-lock musket, explored the country by land.

1620.]

SETTLEMENT OF PLYMOUTH COLONY.

SIGNING THE COMPACT.

The old chronicles
narrate various inci-
dents of their differ-
ent excursions. One
day they found " five
or six people with
a dogge, who were
savages," and who " all ran away and whistled the dogge after
them." Then Bradford (the future governor) was caught in an
Indian deer-trap, to the great amusement of the party ; and after-
ward they stumbled upon some heaps of earth, in one of which
were baskets of Indian corn. This they carried back to the ship
in a great kettle left among the ruins of an Indian hut. It fur-
nished them seed for their first crop, and the owners, being after-
ward found, were carefully paid. At another time having con-
cluded their morning-prayers, they were preparing to breakfast,
when a strange yell was heard and a shower of arrows fell in the
midst of their little camp on the beach. They returned the salute
w^ith powder and ball, and their savage assailants fled.

The little shallop which was used for coasting along the shore
encountered a furious gale, and lost sail, mast, and rudder. With
great difficulty they brought it to land. Darkness was already
upon them, and the rain froze on their garments as they stood.
They kindled a fire out of the wet wood on the shore, and passed
the night as best they could. The next day was spent in cleaning
rusty weapons, drying drenched " stuff," and reconnoitering the
place. Every hour was precious. The winter was rapidly clos-
ing in. The party in the Mayflower was anxiously awaiting their
return, yet, being " y® last day of y® weeke, they prepared ther
to keepe y^ Sabbath."

PLYMOUTH ROCK.

44 EXPLORATIONS AND SETTLEMENTS. [1620.

On Monday, December 21, the Pilgrims landed at Plymouth.
A grateful posterity has kept the day in honored remembrance,
and " Forefathers* Rock," on which they first set foot, is still
preserved as an object of veneration. It was probably the only
stone large enough for the purpose of landing in all that bleak,
sandy coast.

The cutting blasts of winter fell upon them. Half of the men
were sick from exposure. Yet they resolutely set at work build-
ing rude log-cabins. At
one time there were only
seven well persons in the
colony. They " carried
out the dead through the
snow and the cold, and
returned to take care of
the sick." When spring
came, the graves they
had dug far outnumbered
the houses they had built. But the hearts of the survivors never
misgave them. When the Mayflower returned to England she
carried back not a single home-sick pilgrim.

The summer found them with flourishing fields of barley,
peas, and Indian corn ; fish, wild fowls, berries, and native fruits
in abundance ; nineteen log-cabins, each with a little enclosure for
a private garden ; a rude store-house, twenty feet square, for the
protection of their common property ; and a platform on the hill
crowned with five guns as a means of defence. A little brook
ran by the humble town, and springs of clear, fresh water were
near. That " the birds sang in the woods most pleasantly," and
the wild wood-flowers were " very sweet," is their own record,
and testifies to their cheerful content.

The feeble colony met with no opposition from the Indians.
A pestilence had nearly annihilated several tribes inhabiting that
portion of the coast, and thus, providentially, as the Pilgrims
devoutly believed, left a clear place for them to occupy. One
pleasant morning they were startled by the coming of an Indian,
who, in broken English, bade them ''Welcome." He proved
to be Samoset, a petty chief who had picked up a little of the
language from the crews of fishing -vessels. He afterward
brought Massasoit, the head chief of the Wampanoags. A treaty
was made with him and faithfully observed for over half a cen-

1622.]

SETTLEMENT OF PLYMOUTH COLONY.

WELCOME, ENGLISHMEN. — PLYMOUTH, 162I.

tury. In 1622, Canonicus, sachem of the Narragansett tribe, sent
to Plymouth, as a token of defiance, a bundle of arrows tied with
a rattlesnake's skin. The governor sent back the same skin
stuffed with powder and ball. The superstitious savages, think-
ing it some fatal charm, passed it in terror from hand to hand till
it came back again to Plymouth.

The first crop proved inadequate for the winter. A new body
of emigrants arrived, but they were unprovided with food, and so
only increased the privations and difficulties of the colony. Even
at the end of three years we are told that ^* at night they knew
not where to have a bit in the morning." At one time there was
only a pint of corn in the settlement, which allowed five kernels to
each person. Yet such was their pious content that at a social
dinner, consisting only of clams, eaten off the lid of the same
chest on which the compact was signed in the cabin of the May-
flower, good Elder Brewster returned thanks to God for having
" given them to suck the abundance of the seas and of the treas-
ures hid in the sand." The plan first adopted of working their
lands in common failed, as at Jamestown, and a portion was
assigned each settler. Thrifty, God-fearing, and industrious,
the Pilgrims steadily gained in abundance and comfort. Car-
goes of sassafras, then much esteemed in pharmacy, furs and lum-

46 EXPLORATIONS AND SETTLEMENTS. [1628.

ber were sent to England. After a time they raised enough corn
to sell to fishing-vessels and to barter with the Indians.

For over eighteen years the government in church and state
was a strict democracy — all the male inhabitants forming the
legislature. The increase of population afterward caused it to be
made representative, and each town sent a committee to the gen-
eral court. The Plymouth colony remained independent till 1692,
when it was united to that of Massachusetts Bay.

gETTl.EJVlEp^T OF MASg^CHUgETTg ByVY.

The success of the Pilgrims greatly encouraged the establish-
ment of other settlements. Large numbers of the best Puritan
families in England were induced to emigrate. In 1628, five ship-
loads landed at a place which they named Salem, from the Hebrew
word meaning peace. Their circumstances were far different from
those of the Pilgrims. It was June when they approached the
coast. " What with pine woods and green trees by land," writes
the old chronicler, " and yellow flames painting the sea, we were
all desirous to see our new Paradise." They had a grant from
the Council of New England, which had taken the place of the
old Plymouth Company. They had a charter from the king,
authorizing them to govern themselves. Moreover, their connec-
tions in England were powerful. They brought tools, cattle, and
horses. They were not, however, exempted from the hardships
incident to a settler's life. The winter was very severe and they
were forced to subsist on ground-nuts, shell-fish, and acorns, so
difficult to obtain at that season of the year. One of them
wrote : " Bread was so very scarce that sometimes I thought the
very crumbs of my father's table would be sweet unto me.
And, when I could have meal and water and salt boiled together,
it was so good, who could wish better?"

Other settlements were rapidly formed — Charlestown, Dor-
chester, Watertown, Lynn, and Cambridge. One thousand emi-
grants under the highly-esteemed Governor Winthrop estab-
lished themselves at Boston — from its three hills first called
Tri-Mountain — which became the capital of the colony.

The government was vested in a governor chosen by the

1630.]

SETTLEMENT OF MASSACHUSETTS BAY.

FAC-SIMILE OF FIRST UAP ENGRAVED IN NEW ENGLAND.

people, and a legislature elected in the same manner. None but
freemen, however, could vote, and none but church members
were eligible to citizen-
ship. " Each settlement,"
says Hildreth, ''at once
assumed that township
authority which has ever
formed so marked a fea-
ture in the political or-
ganization of New Eng-
land. The people assem-
bled in to wn - meeting,
voted taxes for local pur-
poses, and chose three,
five, or seven of the prin-
cipal inhabitants, at first
under other names, but
early known as 'select-
men,* who had the expen-
diture of this money and the executive management of town affairs.
A treasurer and a town clerk were also chosen, and a constable
was soon added for the service of civil and criminal processes."
Each town constituted, in fact, a small state almost complete in
itself.

It is a noticeable fact that what we now call Massachusetts
grew up around two centres, separated not only by forty miles of
wilderness, but by a great diversity of thought. Plymouth and
the Bay were two little republics, that for sixty years maintained
their independence. In England, the Pilgrims who settled the
former were Separatists ; that is to say, they had left the Church
of England aftd set up churches for themselves. The Puritans,
who came to the Bay, were Non-conformists ; t. e., they simply re-
fused to conform to certain rules and usages of the Church of Eng-
land, but remained, as it were, members under protest. Plymouth
was weak in men and money ; the Bay was strong from the first.
The former was settled by plain, practical people, having only one
university man — Elder Brewster; the latter had a superabun-
dance of highly educated persons. In 1640, the Bay numbered
seventy-seven clergymen ; they dominated in all political action
and engrafted on the Puritan colony the best learning of the Old
World. At Plymouth all voted who were elected to the right of

EXPLORATIONS AND SETTLEMENTS.

[1636.

citizenship ; at the Bay, church membership was a sine qua non,
so that not a quarter of the adults were ehgible to that trust.
At Plymouth were found quiet, peace, and contentment ; at the
Bay, the rush of business and the strife of parties, impelling the
tides of hfe which set off to establish new centres in Connecticut,
Rhode Island, and other colonies.

Religious toleration was rarely seen in those days. Indeed,
those who were themselves cruelly persecuted were often the
most intolerant in their treatment of any who differed with them.
The Puritans had crossed the sea to establish a Puritan
colony, and they required everybody to attend their worship.
A strict uniformity of belief was enforced. Religious distur-
bances soon arose. Roger Williams, an eloquent young minister,

had adopted the idea
of " soul -liberty," as
he expressed it, i. e,,
the responsibility of
every man to his own
conscience alone. It

ROGER WILLIAMS RECEIVED BY CANONICUS.

was a novel sentiment in those days, and was especially unsuited to
the Puritan method of government. Williams was accordingly
expelled from the colony. Exiled by Christians, he found a home
with Pagans. Canonicus, a Narragansett chief, gave him land for
a settlement, which he gratefully called Providence (1636). Mrs.
Hutchinson, who rebelled at the restpaints placed upon women,
and claimed to have special revelations of God's will, was also
banished, and joined the new colony. The Quakers had come
to Boston overflowing with zeal, and even courting persecution.

1656.]

KING PHILIP'S WAR.

They received it in abundance. Several were hanged. Num-
bers were flogged and expelled. These, too, found a hearty
welcome at the Providence plantation, the exiled Williams freely
sharing his lands with religious refugees of every class. Thus
were laid the foundations of the State of Rhode Island. Its
fundamental principle was its founder's favorite one of entire
liberty of conscience.

A union of the colonies of Massachusetts Bay, Plymouth, New
Haven, and Connecticut, was formed in 1643, under the title of
The United Colonies of New England. This was a famous
league in colonial times, and was the germ of the Federal Union
of later days. The object was a common protection against the
Indians and the encroachments of the Dutch and French settlers.

Massasoit, like Powhatan, was the friend of the whites. After
Massasoit's death, his son. King Philip, as he was called, brooding
over the constant encroachments of the settlers, the loss of game,
and the usurpation of his favorite hunting-grounds, at last organ-
ized a confederation of various
tribes to drive out the intruders.
The struggle began ere his plans
were completed. Some Indians
being tried and hanged for mur-
der, Philip, in revenge, fell upon
Swanzy, a little settlement near
his home at Mount Hope (1675).
Troops came, and he fled, mark-
ing his flight by burning build-
ings and by poles hung with the
heads, hands, and scalps of the
hapless whites whom he met
on the way. All the horrors of
Indian warfare now burst upon
the doomed colonists of New
England. The settlements were
widely scattered. The Indians
lurked in every forest and brake.
They watched for the lonely
settler as he opened his door

in the morning, as he was busy with his work in the field, or
walked along the forest path to church. The fearful war-whoop,
the deadly tomahawk, the treacherous ambuscade, filled the col-

KING PHILIP.

(From an Old Print.)

EXPLORATIONS AND SETTLEMENTS.

[1675.

ony with constant terror.
In August, a company of
eighty young men, " the very
flower of the county of Es-
sex," were returning from
Deerfield with a train of
wagons loaded with wheats
which they had harvested. At a little stream, ever since that day
called Bloody Run, they stopped to pick the grapes which hung
in profusion from the trees along the road. Suddenly amid their
glee, the Indians leaped upon them, like tigers, from the thicket.
Only seven or eight of the entire party escaped. While the sav-
ages were plundering the dead, troops came to the rescue, and^
in turn, cut down nearly one hundred of their number ere they
could escape.

At Hadley, the Indians surprised the people during a relig-
ious service. Seizing their muskets at the sound of the savage
war-whoop, the men rushed out of the meeting-house to fall into
line. But the foe was on every side. Confused and bewildered,
the settlers seemed about to give way, when suddenly a strange
old man with long white beard and ancient garb appeared among
them. Ringing out a quick, sharp word of command, he recalled

1676.] SALEM WITCHCRAFT. 51

them to their senses. Following their mysterious leader, they
drove the enemy headlong before them. The danger passed,
they looked around for their deliverer ; but he had disappeared
as mysteriously as he had come. The good people believed
that God had sent an angel to their rescue. History reveals
the secret. It was the regicide Colonel Goffe. Fleeing from the
vengeance of Charles II., with a price set upon his head, he had for
years wandered about, living in mills, clefts of rocks, and forest
caves. At last he had found an asylum with the Hadley minister.
From his window he had seen the stealthy Indians coming down
the hill. Fired with desire to do one more good deed for God's
people, he rushed from his hiding-place, led them on to victory^
and then returned to his retreat, never more to reappear.

All the long summer the cruel strife went on. But when
winter came, and the forest was more open and the low ground
frozen over, a large body of the colonists attacked the Indians in.
their stronghold, in an almost inaccessible swamp in South King-
ston. After a desperate struggle the fort was carried, and the
wigwams filled with stores were burned to ashes. A thousand
warriors were killed. The next year Philip was left almost alone.
Hunted from place to place, he was tracked to the centre of a
morass, where he was shot by one of his own people. It was
a sad fate for a brave man, who, under other circumstances,
would have been styled a hero and a patriot. The war had cost
the colony six hundred men and one million dollars. Every
eleventh house had been burned and every eleventh soldier killed.
No help had been asked or received from England.

The year 1692 is memorable as that of the Salem Witchcraft.
This was a delusion which seems preposterous now, but which
was then in accordance with the current belief of the times. It
broke out in the family of Mr. Parish, a minister of Salem, where
a company of girls had been in the habit of meeting with two West
Indian slaves, to study the '' black art." Suddenly they began to
be mysteriously contorted, to bark like dogs, purr like cats, and
scream at some unseen thing which was sticking pins in their bodies.
They accused an old Indian servant of bewitching them. On
being scourged, she acknowledged the crime. A fast-day was
proclaimed. Cotton Mather, a distinguished minister of Boston,
and a firm believer in the delusion, came to investigate the case.
The excitement spread. Impeachments multiplied. A special
court was formed to try the accused. The jails rapidly filled.

52 EXPLORATIONS AND SETTLEMENTS. [1692.

Magistrates were busy. On the most foolish charges — as being
seen flying through the air on a broom — respectable people were
condemned to death. It was dangerous to express doubt of a
prisoner's guilt. Fifty-five persons suffered torture and twenty
were executed. All these might have escaped if they had con-
fessed themselves guilty, but, with noble heroism, they chose
death rather than a falsehood. When the people awoke to their

THE OLD WITCH HOUSE— SCENE OF EXAMINATIONS AT SALEM.

folly the reaction was wonderful. Judge Sewall was so deeply
penitent that he observed a day of fasting in each year, and on
the day of general fast rose in his place in the Old South Church
at Boston, and in the presence of the congregation handed to the
pulpit a written confession acknowledging his error, and praying

" That the sin of his ignorance sorely rued,
Might be washed away in the mingled flood
Of his human sorrow and Christ's dear blood."

The history of Maine and New Hampshire is almost identical
with that of Massachusetts. The early settlements grew up out
of various fishing stations along the coast. A story is told of an
itinerant preacher, who, in his exhortations to the people of Ports-
mouth, reminded them that as they had come thither for the pur-
pose of free worship, they ought to be very religious. " Sir, you
are quite mistaken," was the reply. " You think you are speak-
ing to the people of Massachusetts Bay. Our main end is to catch
fish." Maine was not one of the original thirteen colonies, and
did not separate from Massachusetts till 1820. New Hampshire
was three times given to Massachusetts, either from its own wish
or by royal authority. In 1741 it became a royal province, and
had its governor, who was appointed by the king.

1635.] THE PEQUOD WAR. 53

gETTLEJVlEJ^T OF COJMjM^CTICUT.

The valley of the Connecticut — a name derived from the Indian
word for long river — was settled from Massachusetts. Rumors of
its rich bottom lands early attracted the attention of the pioneers
struggling for an existence upon the barren sea-coast around Plym-
outh and the Bay. In 1633 a company of traders from Plymouth
sailed up the river and built a fort at Windsor. In the autumn
of 1635 John Steele, one of the proprietors of Cambridge, led a
pioneer company '' out west," as it was then considered, and laid
the foundations of Hartford. They passed the winter in miser-
able cabins, half-buried in the snow, living precariously on corn
purchased of the Indians. The next year the main band, with
their pastor, Thomas Hooker, a most eloquent and estimable man,
*' the light of the western churches," came, driving their flocks
before them, through the wilderness. For two weeks they
traveled on foot, traversing mountains, sWamps, and rivers, with
only the compass for a guide, and little beside the milk from
their own cows for their subsistence. Mrs. Hooker being ill, was
borne on a litter. They established Hartford, Wethersfield and
Windsor, known as the Connecticut colony, giving the franchise
to all freemen. New Haven was settled by a company of Puri-
tans direct from England. Like the colony around Massachusetts
Bay, they allowed only church members to vote.

The settlers had not been a year in their new home when a
war broke out with the Pequod Indians. Roger. Williams, hear-
ing that this tribe was likely to obtain the aid of the Narragan-
setts, forgot all the wrongs he had received from the Massachu-
setts people, and, at the risk of his life, went to the Indian
council, confronted the Pequod deputies, and, after a three-days
struggle, prevailed upon the Narragansetts to take part with the
whites. A body of ninety Connecticut colonists was now raised
to attack the Pequod stronghold on the Mystic River. After
spending nearly all night in prayer, at the request of the sol-
diers, they set out on their perilous expedition. On the way they
were joined by several hundred friendly Indians. The party
approached the fort at daybreak (June 5, 1637). The barking of
a dog aroused the sleepy sentinel, and he shouted, " Owanux !
Owanux ! " (the Englishmen ! ) — but it was too late. The troops
were already within the palisades. The Indians collected them-

54 EXPLORATIONS AND SETTLEMENTS. [1637.

selves and made a fierce resistance ; but Captain Mason, seizing a
firebrand, hurled it among the wigwams. The flames quickly
swept through the encampment. The English themselves barely
escaped. A few Indians fled to the swamp, but were hunted
down. The tribe perished in a day. This fearful blow struck
terror to the savages, and gave New England peace for forty
years, until King Philip's war, of which we have spoken. '' The
infant was safe in its cradle, the laborer in the fields, the solitary
traveler during the night-watches in the forest; the houses
needed no bolts, the settlements no palisades."

The younger Winthrop, son of Governor Winthrop of Massa-
chusetts and one of the most accomplished men of his time, went
to England, and by his personal influence and popularity obtained
from Charles I. the most liberal charter as yet given to the
colonies. It was a precious boon to liberty. Twenty-five years
afterward. Governor Andros, pompously marching from Boston
over the route where the pious Hooker had led his little flock fifty
years before, came " glittering with scarlet and lace " into the
assembly at Hartford, and demanded the charter. A protracted
debate ensued. The people crowded around to take a last look at

this guarantee of their liberties,

■^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^* the charter pfovernment at an

THK CHAKTEK OAK. O

end. " Finis " was written at the
close of the minutes of their last meeting.

The freedom of the press was now denied. Persons about to
marry had to give heavy bonds with sureties. The right to join
in wedlock was taken from the clergy and given to the magis-
trates. Payment of money to non-conformist ministers was for-
bidden. Farmers were required to take out new titles to their
land, at great expense. The rule of the governor became at last
unendurable. When he was finally deposed, the people brought
out the faded but now doubly-precious charter from its hiding-
place, the general court reassembled, and the '' finis" disappeared.

1609.]

DISCOVERY OF THE HUDSON RIVER.

3ETTX.EJVIE]MT OF NEW YORK.

This was the only colony planted by the Dutch. In 1609,
Henry Hudson, an English navigator in the service of the Dutch,
while seeking a northwest passage to the Indies entered the
harbor of New York. His vessel, the Half-Moon, was the first
European ship to sail up that noble river which now bears his
name. Strange was the sight which greeted his wondering eyes.
" Sombre forests," says Bancroft, " shed a melancholy grandeur
over the useless magnificence of nature, and hid in their deep

THE HALF-MOON IN THE HUDSON.

shades the rich soil which the sun had never warmed. No axe
had leveled the giant progeny of the crowded groves, in which
the fantastic forms of withered limbs that had been blasted and
riven by lightning contrasted strangely with the verdant fresh-
ness of a younger growth of branches. The wanton grape-vine,
seeming by its own power to have sprung from the earth and to
have fastened its leafy coils on the top of the tallest forest tree.

$6 EXPLORATIONS AND SETTLEMENTS. [1609.

swung in the air with every breeze like the loosened shrouds of a
ship. Reptiles sported in stagnant pools, or crawled unharmed
over piles of mouldering trees." Red men, too, were there :
sometimes conciliatory, as when they flocked about in their
canoes to barter grapes, pumpkins, and furs for beads and knives ;
sometimes vindictive, as when they beset the little exploring boat
and sent Hudson's long-time comrade to a grave on the beach.

About the time that John Smith went back to England, Hud-
son turned his prow toward Holland. His voyage had rendered
his name immortal. Legends of the daring sailor still live among
the old Dutch families, and when the black thunder-clouds send
their crackling peals along the Palisades, they say, " Hendrick
Hudson and his crew are playing nine-pins now."

It was the golden age of Dutch commerce. Holland imme-
diately laid claim to the country and named it " New Nether-
LAND." In 1613 some huts were erected on the present site of
New York. The year after the landing of the Pilgrims, the
Dutch West India Company obtained a patent for the territory
between the Delaware and the Connecticut Rivers. To every
one who should plant a colony of fifty persons they offered a
iract of land sixteen miles in length, which they and their heirs
should hold forever. These proprietors were called patroons, or
lords of the manor. The famous anti-rent difficulties of after
times grew out of these grants.

To supply the requisite number of emigrants, ship-captains
brought over many poor Germans, whose passage-money was
paid by the patroons, whom they were in turn bound to serve for
a given term of years. It was a profitable arrangement for all
concerned. During the period of service the Redemptioners^ as
they were called, gained a knowledge of the language and ways
of the country, and were fitted to take care of themselves when
they became independent. In that charming little volume, "■ New
York Society in the Olden Time," a story is told of one of these
settlers who, having completed his bondage of several years,
quietly produced a bag of gold which he had brought over with
him, and which was sufficient to purchase a farm. But, said his
late master in surprise, " why, with all this money, did you not
pay your passage, instead of serving as a redemptioner so long?"
" Oh," said the cautious emigrant from the Rhine, " I did not know
English, and I should have been cheated. Now I know all about
the country, and I can set up for myself." Which was true phil-

1629.]

SETTLEMENT OF NEW YORK.

osophy. These industrious settlers became respected citizens,
and their descendants are to-day among the wealthy farmers
along the Hudson.

Peter Minuits came over as first governor in 1626. He
bought the Island of Manhattan of the Indians for twenty-four
dollars. Here was founded the city of New Amsterdam. Trade
was opened with the Indians, and canoes pushed up every neigh-
boring inlet to barter for otter and beaver skins. Meanwhile
there was trouble with the Swedes on the Delaware, and the
English on the Connecticut, both of whom had settled on lands
claimed by the Dutch. Then, too, there was a fearful massacre
of Indians, perpetrated by Governor Kieft, and in revenge the war-
whoop echoed through every forest
glen, and not a farm or ''bowerie"
was safe. The colonists, indignant at
his cruel folly, sent the governor home,
but he was wrecked on the coast of
Wales and miserably perished.

Under Governor Stuyvesant came
better times. He arranged the Con-
necticut boundary line ; conquered
New Sweden, as the colony on the
Delaware was called ; made peace
with the Indians, and built a palisade
across the island where now is Wall
street. Dutch industry and thrift
meant prosperity here as well as in
Holland. From the first, New York
was a cosmopolitan city. Even at
that early day eighteen languages
were said to be spoken. The French
Huguenots, the Italian Waldenses,
the Swiss Calvinists, the world-hated
Jew, all found a home and a refuge in
this growing colony. The island was

mostly divided into farms. The Park was crowned with forest
trees and used for a common pasture, where tanners obtained
bark and boys gathered chestnuts for half a century later.

With all Governor Stuyvesant's honesty and ability, " Head-
strong Peter," as they called him, was inclined to be obstinate.
He especially hated democratic institutions. The English in the

GOVERNOR STUYVESANT.

$8 EXPLORATIONS AND SETTLEMENTS. [1664.

colony looked with longing eyes on the rights enjoyed by their
Connecticut brethren, so that when, in 1664, an English fleet came
to anchor in the harbor and demanded a surrender in the name of

THE ENGLISH LANDING AT NEW YORK, IOL/4.

the Duke of York, there was secret joy in the town. The stout-
hearted governor had been a brave soldier in his time, and he
stumped about on his wooden leg at a terrible rate, angrily tore
up the letter of his council making terms, and swore he would
hold the place at every cost. But the burgomasters made him
put the pieces together and sign the surrender. The English
flag soon floated over the island, and the name of the colony was
changed to New York in honor of the new proprietor. England
was now master of the coast from Canada to Florida.

The English governors disappointed the people by not granting
their coveted rights. A remonstrance against being taxed with-
out representation was burned by the hangman. So that when,
after nine years of English authority, a Dutch fleet appeared in
the harbor, the people went back quietly under their old rulers.
But the next year, peace being restored between England and
Holland, New Amsterdam became New York again. Thus ended
the Dutch rule in the colonies. Andros, who twelve years after
played the tyrant in New England, was the next governor. He
managed so arbitrarily that he was called home. Under his
successor, Dongan, there was a gleam of civil freedom. By per-

1689.]

SETTLEMENT OF NEW YORK.

p PETRUSr 5TUYVESANT

I CaptamGeneraiiGbvernorinChiefof AmstenTam j

JnNewNefherlandT^ow caJfed.New^lfSrlc
An(ItheDutchWeitTnc[ial5land5.Die(£AD.I^ri|
Aged 30 jears.

54:

.x:^^

S^"^ V^^Av5^

?-^\^^-

THE TOMB OF PETER STUYVESANT.

(From St. Mark's Church, New York.)

mission of the Duke of York, he called an assembly of the repre-
sentatives of the people. This was but transient, for two years
after, when the Duke of York became James II., king of England,
he forgot all his
promises, for-
bade legislative
assemblies, pro-
hibited print-
ing-presses,
and annexed
the colony to
New England.
When, how-
ever, Andros
was driven from
Boston, Nichol-
son, his lieuten-
ant and apt tool
of tyranny in
New York, fled

at once. Captain Leisler, supported by the democracy, but bit-
terly opposed by the aristocracy, thereupon administered affairs
very prudently until the arrival of Governor Slaughter, who ar-
rested him on the absurd charge of treason. Slaughter was unwil-
ling to execute him, but Leisler's enemies, at a dinner party, made
the governor drunk, obtained his signature, and before he became
sober enough to repent, Leisler was no more. The people were
greatly excited over his death, and cherished pieces of his clothing
as precious relics. For long after, party strife ran high and bitter
over his martyrdom.

In the latter part of the seventeenth century, Captain Kidd was
noted as a bold and skillful shipmaster. He distinguished himself
as a privateersman against the French in the West Indies, and
received one hundred and fifty pounds for protecting New York
city from pirates, who at that time infested the ocean highways.
Being sent out against these sea-robbers, he finally became a pirate
himself Returning from his guilty cruise, he boldly appeared in
the streets of Boston, where he was captured in the midst of a prom-
enade. He was carried to England, tried, and hung. His name
and deeds have been woven into popular romance, and the song
' My name is Captain Kidd, as I sailed, as I sailed," is well known.

EXPLORATIONS AND SETTLEMENTS.

[1664.

He is believed to have buried his ill-gotten riches on the coast of
Long Island or the banks of the Hudson, and these localities have
suffered many a search from credulous persons seeking for Kidd's
treasure.

When New Netherland passed into the hands of the Duke of
York, he sold the portion between the Hudson and the Delaware
to Lord Berkeley and Sir George Carteret. This tract took the
name of Jersey in honor of Carteret, who had been governor of
the island of Jersey in the British Channel. The first settlement,

which was a cluster of only four
houses, was called Elizabethtown,
after his wife. His portion was called
East, and Lord Berkeley's West New
Jersey. The colonists were led by a
brother of the proprietor, who came
with a hoe on his shoulder to remind
the people of the way to fortune and
prosperity. The Quakers, Scotch
Presbyterians, and others persecuted for conscience sake, grad-
ually occupied the country. Constant trouble prevailed among
the settlers regarding the land titles, and in 1702 the proprietors
gave up their rights, and ^' the Jerseys," as the colony was long
known, became a royal province.

SEALS OF NEW AMSTERDAM AND
NEW YORK.

-'i==S^>^^i><^,^^:s-^

gETTLEME)MT Of PENN3YI.VAJMIA.

William Penn, the founder of Pennsylvania, was a celebrated
English Quaker. Wishing to establish a home for the oppressed
Friends in England, he secured from Charles IL the grant of a large
tract west of the Delaware, in lieu of sixteen thousand pounds due
his father by the crown, on condition of paying annually two beaver
skins. This territory Penn wished to have called Sylvania (sylva^
forest), as it was covered with woods ; but the king ordered it to
be styled Pennsylvania, and although Penn offered the secretary
twenty guineas to erase the prefix, his request was denied. Penn
immediately sent a body of emigrants to begin the " holy experi-
ment," and came himself the next year in the ship " Welcome."
Right royally was he welcomed by the settlers already within the

1682.]

SETTLEMENT OF PENNSYLVANIA.

boundaries of his land, for his first proclamation had preceded
him with the spirit of a benediction. " I hope you will not be
troubled at your chainge and the king's choice," he wrote, " for
you are now fixt, at the mercy of no governour that comes to make
his fortune great. You shall be governed by laws of your own
makeing, and live a free, and if you will, a sober and industrious
people. God has furnisht me with a better resolution, and has
given me His grace to keep it." On the beautiful banks of the
Delaware, in 1683, he laid the foundations of Philadelphia, the
" City of Brotherly Love," which
he intended should be a '' faire and
greene country toune," with gar-
dens around every house. It was
in the midst of the forest, and the
startled deer bounded past the set-
tler who came to survey his new
home. Yet within a year it had
one hundred houses ; in two years
numbered over two thousand in-
habitants ; and in three years had
gained more than New York in
half a century.

The government was most
happily inaugurated, while the
Philadelphia mansions were as yet
mainly hollow trees. A legisla-
ture appointed by the people was
to make all the laws. Every sect
was to be tolerated. Any freeman
could vote and hold office who believed in God and kept the
Lord's day. No tax could be levied but by law. Every child was
to be taught a useful trade. It seemed to be Penn's only desire to
make the little colony as happy and free as could be. Under a
large spreading elm at Shackamaxon, Penn attended a council of
the Indian chiefs. " We meet," said he, " on the broad pathway of
good faith and good will ; no advantage shall be taken on either
side, but all shall be openness and love. The friendship between
you and me I will not compare to a chain; for that the rains
might rust, and the falling tree might break. We are the same as
if one man's body were to be divided into two parts ; we are all
one flesh and blood." The savages were touched by his gentle

STATUE OF PENN IN PHILADELPHIA.

62 EXPLORATIONS AND SETTLEMENTS. [1683.

words and kindly bearing. " We will live in love with William
Penn and his children," said they, " as long as the sun and moon
shall shine." They kept the history of the treaty by means of
strings of wampum, and would often count over the shells on a
clean piece of bark and rehearse its provisions. " It was the only
treaty never sworn to, and the only one never broken." On
every hand the Indians waged relentless war with the colonies,
but they never shed a drop of Quaker blood. Penn often visited
their wigwams, shared in their sports, and talked to them of God
and Heaven. He found even in the breast of the red man of the
forest a response to his faithful teachings and pure example.
They gave him the name Onas, and the highest compliment they
could confer on any person was to say he was like Onas.

Penn soon returned to England. Fifteen years afterward he
came back with his family, intending to make the New World
his home. But he could not shut out disturbance and conflict.
The boundary between Maryland and Pennsylvania was uncer-
tain. It was not settled until 1767, when two surveyors. Mason
and Dixon, ran the line since famous as Mason and Dixon's line.
The " Three Counties on the Delaware " became discontented.
Penn gave them a deputy-governor and an assembly of their own.
Delaware and Pennsylvania, however, remained under one gov-
ernment till the Revolution. The colonists of Pennsylvania were
unwilling to pay the rents by which Penn sought to reimburse
himself for his heavy outlay, and, not content with the privileges
already secured, constantly sought to weaken the authority of
their benefactor. Penn sorrowfully returned to his native land,
and finally died in want and obscurity.

^-^-S^^A^gtNC^^

gETTLEMEJMT Of THE cyVF{OLINy\g.

Carolina, as we have seen, was first named in honor of a
French monarch ; but it remained for the English to settle the
country. A company of religious refugees from Virginia had
already pushed through the wilderness and '* squatted " near
the mouth of Chowan River. Here they established the Albe-
marle colony. In 1663, Charles II., who in his lavish igno-
rance had given away half the continent, granted the vast

1663.] SETTLEMENT OF THE CAROLINAS. 63

territory south of Virginia to eight proprietors, chiefly his cour-
tiers and ministers. The plan — the " grand model," as it was
called — of the colony which they proposed to establish was
drawn up by Lord Shaftesbury and the famous philosopher, John
Locke. It was the wonder of the day. All the vast territory —
embracing the present States of North and South Carolina,
Georgia, Tennessee, Alabama, Mississippi, Louisiana, Arkansas,
Florida, Missouri, and a large part of Texas and Mexico — was to
be divided into counties, each containing four hundred and eighty
thousand acres. Over each county were to be a landgrave and
two caciques or barons. They were to hold one-fifth of the land,
and the proprietors one-fifth, leaving the balance to the people.
No one owning less than fifty acres could vote ; while tenants
were to be merely serfs, and slaves were to be at the absolute
will of their masters.

The emigrants sent out by the English proprietors first sailed
into the well-known waters where Ribaut had anchored over a
century before, but afterward removed to the ancient groves cov-
ered with yellow jasmine, which marked the site of the present city
of Charleston, then only Oyster Point. The growth of the new
colony was rapid. Thither came ship-loads of Dutch from New
York, dissatisfied with the English rule and attracted by the
genial climate. The French Huguenots, after the revocation of
the Edict of Nantes, flocked to the land where religious perse-
cution was to be forever unknown. Their church was in Charles-
ton; and ''thither on every Lord's day, gathering from their
plantations on the banks of the Cooper, they might be seen, the
parents with their children, making their way in light skiff's,
through scenes so tranquil that silence was broken only by the
rippling of oars and the hum of the flourishing village at the
confluence of the rivers." The Huguenot settlers were a valua-
ble acquisition to Charleston. At one time they numbered sixteen
thousand, and added whole streets to the city. Many of them were
from families of marked refinement in France, and their elegant
manners, no less than their industry, charity, and morality, made
an impress on the growing town. They brought the mulberry
and olive from their own sunny land, and established magnificent
plantations on the banks of the Cooper River. They also intro-
duced many choice varieties of pears, which still bear illustrious
Huguenot names. Their eminently honorable descendants have
borne a proud part in the establishment of the American Repub-

EXPLORATIONS AND SETTLEMENTS.

[1665.

lie. Of seven presidents who were at the head of the Philadel-
phia Congress during the Revolution, three were of Huguenot
parentage.

^^fvS<tmti}-y ess- "^j^ '

^c«-

HUGUENOTS GOING TO CHURCH.

A body of planters from
the Barbadoes had, ere this,
brought African slaves with
them. Their labor proving
very profitable, in a few years
they were introduced to such an extent that they nearly doubled
the whites in number. A little incident which happened in 1694
had much to do with the early prosperity of the colony. The
captain of a ship from Madagascar gave to Governor Smith
a bag of seed rice, saying that it was much esteemed for food
in Eastern countries. The governor shared it with his friends,
and they all planted it in different soils to test its fitness for the
American climate. It lived and thrived ; and thus was introduced
what shortly became an important staple.

The Great Model was an aristocratic scheme. The democrats
of the New World, fleeing persecution and tyranny at home,
living in log-cabins, and dressing in homespun and deer-skins,
would none of it, and it was soon abandoned. The colonists were
therefore allowed to have an assembly chosen by themselves, the
governor only being appointed by the proprietors — the northern

1729.]

SETTLEMENT OF GEORGIA.

and southern colonies, on account of their remoteness from each
other, having each its own. There were still great difficulties
with the proprietors about rents, taxes, and rights, untill in 1729,
the Carolinas became a royal province.

gETTX.EJVlE]MT OF QEORQIA.

Georgia was the last to be planted of the famous thirteen
colonies. America, which was now a home for the oppressed of
all religious faiths — Huguenots, Puritans, Presbyterians, Quakers,
and Catholics — was also to become an asylum for afflicted debt-
ors. James Oglethorpe obtained from George II. a tract of land
which was named Georgia in honor of the king. Oglethorpe
himself accompanied the first body of emigrants to their new
home. His kindly mien, like that of another Penn, won the love
of the Indians. One of the chiefs
gave him a buffalo's skin with the
head and feathers of an eagle painted
on the inside of it. '' The eagle,"
said the warrior, "signifies swift-
ness ; and the buffalo, strength. The
English are swift as a bird to fly over
the vast seas, and as strong as a beast
before their enemies. The eagle's
feathers are soft and signify love ;
the buffalo's skin is warm and means
protection ; therefore love and pro-
tect our families." Another chief
addressed him thus : " We are come
twenty-five days journey to see you.
When I heard you were come, and
that you are good men, I came down
that I might hear good things."

In 1733 Oglethorpe laid out the city of Savannah in broad
avenues and open squares, and here he lived for a year, in a tent
pitched beneath four beautiful forest pines. Soon after, a com-
pany of German Lutherans set out on foot from their homes in
Salzburg, and walked to Frankfort, chanting hymns of deliver-
5

GENERAL OGLETHORPE. AGED I02.

(From an Old Print.)

EXPLORATIONS AND SETTLEMENTS.

[1734.

ance as they went. Taking ship, in due time they also reached
the land of the refugee. Sturdy Scotch Highlanders settled at
Darien. Hither, also, came John and Charles Wesley, full of zeal
for the conversion of the Indians and the religious good of the
young colony. A little later, George Whitefield stirred the
people by his wonderful eloquence. At one time, sixty thousand
were gathered to hear him, and his open-air meetings were often
attended by from twenty thousand to forty thousand people.

Georgia, as well as Carolina, bordered on Florida, and there
were several contests between the young colonies and their
Spanish neighbors. The South Carolinians and the Georgians
each fruitlessly invested St. Augustine (1702 and 1740), and the
Spaniards, in turn, attacked Charleston and Savannah (1706 and
1742). Little, however, resulted from these spurts of national
hatred, except to make more apparent the necessity of bringing
Florida under the English crown.

The laws of the Georgian colony were very irksome. The
trustees limited the size of a man's farm, allowed no woman to
inherit land, and forbade the importation of slaves or of rum.
The last law cut off a large source of profit, as a valuable trade
of lumber for rum had sprung up with the West Indies. Wearied
by complaints, the trustees surrendered the colony to the crown,
and Georgia became a royal province, like the other colonies.

i-ENN S TREATY TRSB.

CHAPTER III.

COLOJ^IAL WA(kS.

HILE the English had thus estab-
lished themselves on the Atlan-
tic coast, the settlement of New-
France had gone on apace. The
same year that Henry Hudson
sailed north up the river which
now bears his name, Champlain, a
French explorer who had already
founded Quebec, penetrating the
wilds of New York southward,
discovered the beautiful lake which
was henceforth to be called in his
honor. While most of the English
colonists steadily pushed back the Indians from their advancing
settlements, making but slight efforts for their conversion or
civilization, the French intermarried with them, mingled in their
sports, shared their scanty fare, and, in their government of them,
always joined kindness to firmness. They sought, not to drive
away the natives, but to make the most of them. Their scheme
of colonization, in fact, seemed to embrace but two objects — the
mission work and the fur trade. Jesuit missionaries, burning
with zeal and ardor, flocked to the banks of the St. Lawrence^
and pushed their way into the virgin forest, dismayed by no
storm, or hostility, or pestilence. Under the dripping trees,
through the sodden snow, amid cruel and treacherous tribes, they
moved with unflagging courage, asking only to baptize the poor
red man, and ensure to his soul the joys of the upper paradise.
Many of these indefatigable pioneers were murdered by the
savages ; some were scalped, some burned in rosin-fire, some
scalded with hot water; yet, ever, as one fell out of the ranks.

COLONIAL WARS.

[1668.

SAMUEL CHAMPLAIN.

another sprang forward, cross in hand, to fill his place. They crept
along the northern lakes, and, in 1668, founded the mission of San

Ste. Marie, the oldest European
settlement in Michigan. Father
Marquette floated in a birch-bark
canoe down the Wisconsin to the
Mississippi River. Going ashore
one day at his hour of devotion,
he did not return. His followers
sought him, and found that he had
died while at prayer, with his eyes
fixed on the cross he had carried so
long and so faithfully.

La Salle, a famous French ad-
venturer, descended the Great
River to the Gulf, naming the country on its banks Louisiana, in
honor of Louis XIV. of France. Before the close of the seven-
teenth century, the French had explored the Great Lakes, the
Fox, Maumee, Wabash, Wisconsin, and Illinois Rivers, and the
Mississippi from the Falls of St. Anthony to the Gulf. They had
traversed a region including what is now known as Louisiana,
Arkansas, Mississippi, Iowa, Minnesota, Nebraska, Kansas, the
Canadas, and Nova Scotia. In 1688, New France had a population
of eleven thousand. The opening of the eighteenth century found
them still at their labor of colonization. In 1700, De Tonty built
Fort Rosalie near the present site of Natchez. Fort Detroit
^was erected in 1701. Mobile was settled in 1702 and became the
capital of all Louisiana. New Orleans was founded in 171 8, and
Vincennes in 1735. The French names still lingering throughout
the Mississippi valley preserve the memories of its early settlers.

Frequent contests broke out in Europe between England and
France. The colonists naturally took part with their parent
countries, and thus the flames of war were kindled in the New
World. From 1689 to 1763 — three-fourths of a century — the
struggle went on. The series of quarrels are known with us as
''King William's War" (1689-1697), ''Queen Anne's War"
(1702-1713), " King George's War"* (1744-1748), and the " Old
French and Indian War" (1754-1763). There were frequent

1689.]

KING WILLIAM'S WAR.

MARQUETTE DESCENDING THE MISSISSIPPI.

pauses in the strife, but it was really and always a continuation
of the same struggle ; and the issue was to decide whether the
French or the English were to rule the continent. The Indians
generally sided with the French. They were armed with guns
and often led by French officers. The horrors of King Philip's
and the Pequod wars were now renewed with tenfold intensity.
The border settlers were in constant fear of the tomahawk.
""Children, as they gambolled on the beach ; reapers, as they
gathered the harvest; mowers, as they rested from using the
scythe ; mothers, as they busied themselves about the household,
were victims to an enemy who disappeared the moment a blow
was struck, and who was ever present when a garrison or a
family ceased its vigilance." Every village had its block or gar-
rison house, solidly constructed, and surrounded with a palisade
of logs ; the upper story sometimes projected beyond the lower,
and in it were cut loop-holes for firing upon the invader.
Thither the inhabitants fled for shelter at any alarm.

One June evening in 1689, ten squaws applied for lodging —
two at each of the five garrisoned houses — in Dover, N. H. So
secure were the inhabitants in the good faith of the Indians, that
every family but one not only granted the request, but also
showed them how to unfasten the bolts and bars of the doors and
;gates, in case they should desire to go out during the night.

COLONIAL WARS.

[1690.

Mesandowit, one of the chiefs, was entertained at Major Wal-
dron's garrison, as he had often been before, where they chatted
pleasantly together, and the family retired to rest in unsuspecting
confidence. When all was quiet, the squaws opened the gates
and gave a concerted signal to the concealed Indians without.
Major Waldron, an old man of eighty years, awakened by the
noise, jumped from his bed and fought valiantly with his sword,
but was stunned by a blow from a tomahawk, and forced into an
arm-chair, which was mounted on the long table where he had
supped with his betrayer. '' Who shall judge Indians now ? " the
savages derisively asked, as they danced about their veteran cap-
tive. Having forced the inmates of the house to prepare food
for them, they regaled themselves, and then, wiping their knives,
each '^ crossed out his account," as they mockingly said, upon the
Major's body. Horribly mutilated and faint with the loss of
blood, he was falling from the table, when one of them held his
own sword under him and thus put an end to his misery. The
family were all killed or taken prisoners, and the house was
fired. The same fate befell the next dwelling and its inmates.
The third house was saved by the barking of a dog, which
aroused the dwellers in time to protect themselves. At Mr.
Coffin's, the savages found a bag of money, and amused them-
selves by making the master of the house throw it on the floor in
handfuls, while they scrambled after it. They then took him to
the house of his son, who had refused to admit the squaws the
night before, and, summoning the younger Coffin to surrender,

threatened to kill his father be-
fore his eyes if he refused. Both
of these families were confined in
a deserted house for safe keep-
ing until the savages were ready
to take them on their march, but,
while their captors were busy in
plundering, they happily man-
aged to escape.

A war -party of French and
Indians coming down from Can-
ada on their snow-shoes in the depth of winter (1690), attacked
Schenectady. They stealthily dispersed through the town, and
the inhabitants were only aroused from sleep as the brutal foe
burst into their houses. Men, women, and children were

A FORTIFIED HOUSE.

1697.]

KING WILLIAM'S WAR.

dragged from their beds and massacred. The few who escaped
fled half-naked through the blinding snow to Albany.

THE INDIAN ATTACK ON SCHENECTADY.

In March, 1697, the Indians made a descent upon Haverhill,
Massachusetts, where they murdered and captured about forty
persons, and burned several houses. One Mr. Dustin was work-
ing in his field. He hastened to his home, and bidding his seven
children run with all speed to a neighboring garrison, seized his
gun, mounted his horse, and set out after them. He had intended
to take one before him on his horse, and protect the rest as best he
might ; but when he overtook them, each one seemed so precious
he could make no choice, and he determined that they should live
or die together. Happily, he succeeded in keeping the Indians at
bay until a place of safety was reached. He had left his wife ill
in bed with an infant child, knowing that any effort to save her
would only ensure death to them all. She, with the nurse and
child, were dragged away in the train of captives. The babe of a
week was soon disposed of in Indian fashion, and, as the strength
of other prisoners failed, they were scalped and left by the road-
side. Mrs. Dustin and nurse kept on the march for a hundred
and fifty miles, when, learning that the captives were to be tor-
tured to death after their destination was reached, she resolved

COLONIAL WARS.

[1704.

upon a desperate effort to escape. In the dead of night she arose
with her nurse and an English boy who, having long been a
prisoner, had learned how to produce death with one blow of
the tomahawk. Taking a weapon, she killed ten of the sleep-
ing Indians, only one wounded squaw escaping. Bringing
away the scalps on her arm to prove her wonderful story, she
hastened with her companions to the river bank, unloosed a canoe,
and was ere long restored to her astonished family.

On the last night of February, 1704, while the snow was four
feet deep, a party of about three hundred and fifty French and
Indians reached a pine forest near Deerfield, Massachusetts.
Skulking about till the unfaithful sentinels deserted the morning
watch, they rushed upon the defenceless slumberers, who awoke
trom their dreams to death or captivity. Leaving behind the
blazing village with forty-seven dead bodies to be consumed amid

MRS, DUSTIN DISPOSING OF HER CAPTORS.

t he wreck, they started back with their train of one hundred and
twelve captives. The horrors of that winter march through the
wilderness can never be told. The groan of helpless exhaustion,
or the wail of suffering childhood, was instantly stilled by the piti-
less tomahawk. Mrs. Williams, the feeble wife of the minister,
had remembered her Bible in the midst of surprise, and comforted
herself with its promises, till, her strength faiUng, she commended
her five captive children to God and bent to the savage blow of
the war-axe. One of her daughters grew up in captivity, em-

OLD FRENCH AND INDIAN WAR.

74 COLONIAL WARS. [1750.

braced the Catholic faith, and became the wife of a chief. Years
after, dressed in Indian costume and accompanied by her warrior
husband, she visited her friends in Deerfield. The whole village
joined in a fast for her deliverance, and every persuasion was
used to induce her to abandon her forest life ; but her heart clung
fondly to her dusky friends and her own Indian children, and she
went back to the fires of her wigwam, and died a faithful Mo-
hawk.

Such scenes of horror inspired the colonists with intense
hatred toward the Indians and their French allies. A bounty as
high as fifty pounds was offered for every Indian scalp, and expedi-
tions were sent against the French strongholds. Two disastrous
attempts were made to invade Canada ; Port Royal was captured
and became a British station under the name of Annapolis ; and,
finally, Louisburg was taken. This had been called the " Gib-
raltar of America," and its fortifications cost five million dollars.
It quickly fell, however, before the rude attacks of General Pep-
perell's army of four thousand undisciplined farmers and fishermen.
The last words of Whitefield, then in Boston, to the little army as
it set sail, had been, " Nothing is to be despaired of when Christ is
the leader." When the army came inside the city and beheld the
almost impregnable fortifications captured so easily, they were
dismayed at the very magnitude of their triumph. It seemed to
those sturdy Puritans as if God indeed were on their side, and by
Him alone had they won the day.

By the middle of the eighteenth century the French had sixty
fortified posts guarding the line of their possessions from Quebec
to New Orleans. They were determined to hold all west of
the Alleghanies, and to make of New France a mighty empire
watered by the St. Lawrence, the Great Lakes, and the Mississippi.
Every fountain which bubbled on the west side of the Alle-
ghanies was claimed as being within the French Empire. But
" while De Bienville was burying plates of lead engraved with
the arms of France, the ploughs and axes of Virginia woodsmen
were enforcing a surer title." The final conflict was at hand.
The English settlers, pushing westward from the Atlantic, and
the French fur-traders and soldiers coming down from the north,
began to meet along the Ohio river. The French would admit
no intruders. Surveyors were driven back. A post on the
Monongahela was destroyed. As there was just now a lull in na-
tional hostilities on account of the Peace of Aix-la-Chapelle (1748),

1753.]

OLD FRENCH AND INDIAN WAR.

George Washington, a promising young man of twenty-one, was
sent by Dinwiddie, Lieutenant-Governor of Virginia, to demand
an explanation from the French. Washington set out on his peril-

OK WASHINGTON S RETURN.

ous journey the same day on which he received his credentials*
He found St. Pierre, the French commandant at Fort le Boeuf
very polite but very firm. It was clear that France was deter-
mined to hold the territory explored by the heroic La Salle and
Marquette. The shore in front of the fort was even then lined
with canoes ready for an intended expedition down the river.
Washington's return through the wilderness, a distance of four
hundred miles, was full of peril. The streams were swollen. The
snow was falling, and freezing as it fell. The horses gave out, and
he was forced to proceed on foot. With only one companion he
quitted the usual path, and, with the compass as his guide, struck
boldly out through the forest. An Indian, lying in wait, fired at
him only a few paces off, but missing, was captured. Attempting
to cross the Alleghany on a rude raft, they were caught in the
trembling ice. Washington thrust out his pole to check the
speed, but was jerked into the foaming water. Swimming to an
island, he barely saved his life. Fortunately, in the morning the
river was frozen over, and he escaped on the ice. He at last
reached home unharmed, and reported St. Pierre's avowed de-

COLONIAL WARS.

[1754

termination to abide by the orders under which he declared him-
self.

The next spring, a regiment of Virginia troops under Colonel
Frye, Washington being second in command, was sent to occupy
the fork of the Alleghany and Monongahela Rivers. Learning
that the French had anticipated them and already erected a fort
called Du Quesne at that point, Washington hastened forward to
reconnoitre. Jumonville, who was hiding among the rocks with
a detachment of French troops waiting an opportunity to attack
him, was himself surprised and slain. Colonel Frye dying soon
after, Washington assumed command, and collected his forces at
the Great Meadows, behind a rude stockade, which was aptly
named Fort Necessity. Here he was attacked by a large body
of French and Indians, and after a severe conflict was compelled
to capitulate.

The contest for the possession of the continent was now
evidently at hand. The crisis was imminent. A convention of
commissioners from all the colonies north of the Potomac was in
session at Albany to concert measures of defence. A union of the
colonies seemed absolutely necessary.

Benjamin Franklin now came to the front. He was well
known as the author of " Poor Richard's Almanac," which he

had published for upwards of twenty
years, and which had attained great
popularity in Europe as well as
America. Risen from a poor boy^
his industry and native talent had
already procured for him consider-
able fortune, and he had just begun
those experiments in electricity which
were afterwards to render his name
immortal. To this philosopher and
statesman the convention at Albany
deputed the task of drawing up a
plan for the proposed confederation.
There was to be a governor-general
appointed by the king, and a grand
council elected by the colonial assemblies. After much discus-
sion the scheme was adopted, but, curiously enough, was rejected
by the king because it gave too much power to the people ; and
by the people, as giving too much power to the crown.

BENJAMIN FRANKLIN.

1755.]

OLD FRENCH AND INDIAN WAR.

The following year, an expedition of English and colonial
troops set out under General Braddock, Washington acting as
aide-de-camp, against Fort Du Quesne. As the army toiled
through the wilderness, one hundred axemen laboriously hewed
a path before it, while the gloom of the forest hemmed it in on
every side. The general was a regular British officer, proud and
conceited. '* The Indians," said he, ** may frighten continental
troops, but they can make no impression on the king's regulars ! '*

Washington warned him
of the dangers of savage
warfare, but his sugges-
tions were received with
contempt. The column
came within ten miles of
the fort, marching along
the Monongahela in reg-
ular array, drums beating and colors flying. Suddenly, in as-
cending a little slope, with a deep ravine and thick underbrush
on either hand, they encountered the Indians lying in ambush.
The terrible war-whoop resounded on every side. The British
regulars huddled together, and, frightened, fired by platoons, at

WASHINGTON AT BRADDOCK S DEFEAT.

78 COLONIAL WARS. [1755.

random, against rocks and trees. The Virginia troops alone
sprang into the forest and fought the savages in Indian style.
Washington seemed everywhere present. An Indian chief with
his braves especially singled him out. Four balls passed through
his clothes, and two horses were shot under him. Braddock was
mortally wounded and borne from the field. At last, when the
continental troops were nearly all killed, the regulars turned and
fled disgracefully, abandoning everything to the foe. Washington
covered their flight and saved the wreck of the army from pursuit.
While this disgrace befell the English arms on the west, far
in the north they were being tarnished by an act of heartless
cruelty. A body of troops sent out against Acadia (Nova Scotia)
easily captured the petty forts on the Bay of Fundy. The
Acadians, a rural, simple-minded people, wished to be left to till
their farms in peace. They gladly gave up their arms and
promised to remain neutral. Refusing, however, to take the oath
of allegiance to King George II., their houses were fired and
they driven on board ship at the point of the bayonet. In the
confusion of a forced embarkation, wives were separated from
husbands and children from parents, never again in this world to
be reunited. Seven thousand of these helpless people were dis-
tributed through the colonies from Maine to Georgia.

" Scattered were they, like flakes of snow, when the wind from the North-east
Strikes aslant through the fogs that darken the Banks of Newfoundland.
Friendless, homeless, hopeless, they wandered from city to city,
From the cold lakes of the North to sultry Southern Savannas, —
From the bleak shores of the sea to the lands where the Father of Waters
Seizes the hills in his hands and drags them down to the ocean,
Deep in their sands to bury the scattered bones of the mammoth.
Friends they sought and homes ; and many, despairing, heart-broken.
Asked of the earth but a grave, and no longer a friend nor a fireside."

For years the colonial newspapers contained advertisements
of these scattered exiles, seeking reunion with their lost ones.
That they might not wander back to their old home, it was utterly
desolated. The humble household relics, dear to their simple
hearts, perished in the flames. Cattle, sheep, and horses were
seized as spoils by their cruel conquerors. '* There was none left
round the ashes of the cottages of the Acadians but the faithful
watch-dog, vainly seeking the hands that fed him. Thickets of
forest trees choked their orchards ; the ocean broke over their
neglected dikes and desolated their meadows." Such was the

1756.] OLD FRENCH AND INDIAN WAR. /g

fate of the simple Acadian peasants, about which Longfellow has
woven his sweet and imperishable story of Evangeline.

About the same time as Braddock's defeat, a force under
William Johnson was sent against the fort at Crown Point. He
met the French under General Dieskau near the head of Lake
George. After a hot engagement, the French regulars were
defeated by the backwoods riflemen and their gallant com-
mander severely wounded. In the pursuit, Dieskau was found
by a soldier leaning against a stump. As he was fumbling for
his watch with which to propitiate his captor, the soldier, think-
ing him to be searching for his pistol, shot him. The refugees
from the battle fell into an ambuscade of some New York and New
Hampshire rangers and were utterly routed. This memorable
conflict, says Parkman, has cast its dark associations over one of
the most beautiful spots in America. Near the scene of the
evening fight, a pool, half overgrown by weeds and water-lilies,
and darkened by the surrounding forest, is pointed out to the
tourist, and he is told that beneath its stagnant waters lie the
bones of three hundred Frenchmen, deep buried in mud and
slime. Johnson, however, gained nothing by his victory, but
loitered away the autumn in building Fort William Henry.

Two years of disaster followed. In 1756, the French, under
Montcalm, captured Fort Oswego with its valuable stores. The
missionaries planted a cross on the spot, labeled, " This is the
banner of victory ;" and by its side was placed a pillar bearing
the arms of France and the inscription, " Bring lilies with full
hands."

The following year Fort William Henry was forced to capit-
ulate. The English were guaranteed a safe escort to Fort Ed-
ward. They had scarcely left the fort, however, when the Indians
fell upon them to plunder and slaughter. In vain did the French
officers peril their lives to save their captives from the lawless
tomahawk. " Kill me," cried Montcalm, in desperation, '' but
spare the English, who are under my protection." But the In-
dian fury was implacable, and the march of the prisoners to Fort
Edward became a flight for life.

With 1758 dawned a brighter day. William Pitt, the warm
friend of the colonies, was now Prime Minister of England. An
army of fifty thousand men was raised, twenty-two thousand
British regulars and twenty-eight thousand colonial troops. This
was equal to half the entire population of New France. Fort Du

COLONIAL WARS.

[1758.

Quesne was captured, and as the English flag floated in triumph
over the ramparts, this gateway to the West received the name
of Pittsburg. The success was mainly due to the exertions of
Washington. On his return he was elected to the House of
Burgesses. As he took his seat, the Speaker, in the name of Vir-
ginia, publicly returned thanks to him for his services to his
country. Washington, taken by surprise, rose to reply. Blush-
ing and trembling, he found himself unable to utter a word.
" Sit down, Mr. Washington," interposed the Speaker, with a
smile of regard ; '' your modesty equals your valor, and that sur-
passes the power of any language I possess."

Louisburg, which had been given up to the French by treaty,
was retaken during this campaign. General Abercrombie, how-
ever, though he had the largest
army yet raised in the provinces
— fifteen thousand men — was dis-
astrously driven back from before
Fort Ticonderoga. The wanderer
in Westminster Abbey to-day finds
the memory of Lord Howe, who
fell in this repulse, perpetuated by
a tablet erected in his honor by the
Assembly of Massachusetts.

The next campaign (1759) was
destined to be decisive. Montcalm
had received no reinforcements
from home ; Canada was impover-
ished and food was scarce, so that
even the garrison in Quebec had
daily rations of but half a pound
of bread, and the inhabitants were
forced to be content with two
ounces. Forts Niagara, Crown
Point, and Ticonderoga, feebly defended by the French, were
soon taken. Meanwhile General Wolfe, sailing up the St. Law-
rence, struck a more vital blow. With a formidable fleet and
eight thousand men, he laid siege to Quebec. The citadel,
however, far above the reach of their cannon, and the craggy
bluff, bristling with guns, for a time repulsed every effort. At
length he discovered a narrow path leading up the steep preci-
pice. Here he determined to land his troops, ascend to the

1759.] OLD FRENCH AND INDIAN WAR. 8 1

plain above, and compel Montcalm to come out of his intrench-
ments and give battle. Sailing several miles up the river, he dis-

(jUEBEC IN EARLY TIMES.

embarked his men. That clear, starry night, as they dropped
down with the tide in their boats, Wolfr, who was just recover-
ing from a severe illness, softly repeated the stanzas of a new
poem which he had lately received from England. Like a mourn-
ful prophecy, above the gentle rippling of the waters, floated the
strangely significant words from the lips of the doomed hero :

" The boast of heraldry, the pomp of power,

And all that beauty, all that wealth e'er gave,
Await alike the inevitable hour :
The paths of glory lead but to the grave." — Gray^s Elegy,

" Gentlemen," said he, as he closed the recital, *' I would rather
be the author of that poem than to have the glory of beating the
French to-morrow."

Having reached the landing-place, his men, clambering up the
steep cliff, quickly dispersed the guard, and at day-break he stood
with his entire army drawn up in order of battle on the Plains of
Abraham. Montcalm, astonished at the audacity of the attempt,
could scarcely believe it possible. When convinced of its truth
he at once made an impetuous attack. Wolfe's veterans held
their fire until the French were close at hand, then poured upon
6

82 COLONIAL WARS. [1759.

them rapid, steady volleys. The enemy wavered. Wolfe, placing
himself at the head, now ordered a bayonet charge. Already
twice wounded, he still pushed forward. A third ball struck him.
He was carried to the rear. " They run ! They run !" exclaimed
the officer on whom he leaned. *' Who run?" he faintly gasped.
'' The French," was the reply. " Now God be praised, I die
happy," murmured the expiring hero. Montcalm, too, was
fatally wounded as he was vainly trying to rally the fugitives.
On being told by the surgeon that he could not live more than
twelve hours, he answered, " So much the better. I shall not see
the surrender of Quebec."

One knows not which of these two heroes to admire the more.
Posterity has honored both alike. A monument inscribed Wolfe
AND Montcalm stands to their memory in the Governor's Garden
at Quebec. The surrender of the city quickly followed the defeat
of its army. The next year the fleur-de-lis was lowered on the
flagstaff of Montreal, and the cross of St. George took its place.
Peace was made at Paris, 1763. France gave up all the country
west of the Mississippi to Spain, who, in turn, ceded Florida to
England. The British flag now waved over the continent from
the Arctic Ocean to the Gulf, and from the Atlantic on the east to
the " Great River" on the west. The French had lost their foot-
hold in the New World forever.

The English, however, were not left in quiet possession of
their vast inheritance. The Indian tribes of the West soon
became restive under their new and harsher masters. Pontiac,
head of the Ottawas, an able, cunning, and ambitious chieftain,
organized a wide-spread conspiracy for the simultaneous destruc-
tion of the British garrisons. All the Indian shrewdness was ex-
ercised in accomplishing this design. At Maumee, a squaw lured
forth the commander by imploring aid for an Indian woman dying
outside the fort. Once without, he was at the mercy of the am-
bushed savages. At Mackinaw, hundreds of Indians had gathered.
Commencing a game of ball, one party drove the other, as if by
accident, toward the fort. The soldiers were attracted to watch
the game. At length the ball was thrown over the pickets, and
the Indians jumping after it, began the terrible butchery. The
commander. Major Henry, writing in his room, heard the war-
cry and the shrieks of the victims, and rushing to his window
beheld the savage work of the tomahawk and the scalping-knife.
Amid untold perils he himself escaped. At Detroit, the plot was

1760-3.] OLD FRENCH AND INDIAN WAR. 83

betrayed, it is said, by a squaw who was friendly to Major Glad-
win, the English commander, and when the chiefs were admitted
to their proposed council for '' brightening the chain of friend-
ship," they found themselves surrounded by an armed garrison.
Pontiac was allowed to escape. Two days after, he commenced
a siege which lasted several months. Eight forts were thus cap-
tured. Thousands of settlers along the borders fled to escape the
scalping-knife. Finally, the Indian confederacy was broken up^
and Pontiac, fleeing westward, was assassinated while endeavor-
ing to unite his dusky allies in another attempt to recover thijir
ancient hunting-grounds.

The contest which had given America to England really con-
ferred it upon the colonists. From the issue of the old French
and Indian war, date the thought of independence and the ability
to achieve it. A struggle against a common foe had knit the scat-
tered colonists together. Sectional jealousies had been measur-
ably allayed. The colonies had come to know their own strength.
The emergency had forced them to think and act independently
of the mother country, to raise men and money, and to use them
as they pleased. Minds work fast in hours of peril, and demo-
cratic ideas had taken deep root in these troublesome times.
Colonial and regular officers had belonged to the same army ;
and although, while on parade, the British affected to ridicule the
awkward provincial, he often owed all his laurels, and sometimes
even his safety, on the field of battle, to the prudence and valor of
his despised companion. Washington, Gates, Montgomery, Stark,
Arnold, Rogers, Morgan, Putnam, and a score of others, had been
in training during these years, and had learned how to meet evea
British regulars when the time came.

THE GRAVE OF BRADDOCK-

CHAPTER IV.

COLOJ^IAL LIFE.

IHE thirteen colonies now (1774}
numbered about two million
white inhabitants and five
hundred thousand negroes —
mostly slaves. They were
mainly scattered along the
sea-coast and the great riv-
ers, with occasional groups of
settlements pushed into the
backwoods beyond. Massa-
chusetts, Rhode Island, and
Connecticut had charter gov-
ernments. Maryland and
Pennsylvania (with Delaware)
were proprietary — that is, their proprietors governed them.
Georgia, Virginia, New Hampshire, New York, New Jersey, and
the Carolinas were directly subject to the crown. Boston and
Philadelphia were the principal cities, each having not far from
+wenty thousand inhabitants. New York contained a population
of about twelve thousand, the houses not yet being numbered.
Charleston had about eighteen thousand. Baltimore and Lan-
caster (Pennsylvania) had each about six thousand. Agricul-
ture was" the main employment of the people. Manufactures,
however, even at this early period, received much attention
at the North. Hats, paper, shoes, household furniture, farming
utensils, and the coarser kinds of cutlery were made to some
extent. In an advertisement of 1769, we read :" The Bell
Cart will go through Boston before the end of next month
to collect rags for the Paper Mill at Milton, when all people that
will encourage the Paper Manufactory may dispose of them."
Cloth - weaving had been introduced, although most thrifty
people wove their own, and every frugal housewife expected

COMMERCE AND COINAGE. 85

to dress her family in homespun. In 1753, the Society for
Promoting- Industry among the Poor, at its anniversary, ex-
hibited, on Boston Common, three hundred young spinsters,
each with her wheel ; and a weaver, working at his loom, was
carried through the streets on men's shoulders. Commerce
had steadily increased — principally, however, as coast trade, in
consequence of the oppressive laws of Great Britain. The daring
fishermen of New England already pushed their whaling crafts
far into the icy regions of the north. At the time of the Revolu-
tion the exports of the colonies were about four million pounds
sterling, and the imports three and a half millions ; the exports,
per capita, being in 1769 nearly equal to those of 1869, and the
imports over one-half as great. Money was scarce. Trade was
by barter — a coat for a cow, or a barrel of sugar for a pile of
boards. In 1635, bullets were given instead of farthings — the law
not allowing over twelve in one payment. Massachusetts was
the only colony to coin money. A mint was set up in 1652. For
thirty years all the coins bore the
same date. They are known as the
pine-tree shillings, sixpences, etc.
The following curious anecdote is

told concerning this coinage: "Sir x/^-<i^-^-..-/v^./ - (» -"oow*- v^r^j
Thomas Temple, brother of Sir \^^^^ ^""'"'S^S^
William Temple, resided several
years in New England during the

commonwealth. After the Restoration, when he returned to
England, the king sent for him, and discoursed with him on the
state of affairs in Massachusetts, and discovered great warmth
against that colony. Among other things, he said they had in-
vaded his prerogative by coining money. Sir Thomas, who was
a real friend to the colony, told his Majesty that the colonists
had but little acquaintance with law, and that they thought it no
crime to make money for their own use. In the course of the
conversation. Sir Thomas took some of the money out of his
pocket, and presented it to the king. On one side of the coin
was a pine-tree, of that kind which is thick and bushy at the top.
Charles asked what tree that was. Sir Thomas informed him
it was the royal oak which preserved his Majesty's life. This ac-
count of the matter brought the king into good humor, and dis-
posed him to hear what Sir Thomas had to say in their favor,
calling them ' a parcel of honest dogs.* "

COLONIAL LIFE.

The first printing-press was set up at Cambridge in 1639. The
first book printed was the *' Freeman's Oath," the second, an
almanac, and the third a psalm-book. Most of the books of this
day were collections of sermons. The first permanent newspaper,
The Boston News Letter, was published in 1704. In 1750 there
were only seven newspapers. The Federal Orrery, the first daily
paper, was not issued till 1792. The first circulating library in
America was established under Franklin's auspices at Philadel-
phia in 1732. There was a public library in New York, from
which books were loaned at four and a half pence per week. In
1754, the Society Library was founded. Eleven years later there
was a circulating library in Boston of twelve hundred volumes.
As yet very few books had been printed here. Scarcely any
American work was read in Europe. There was, however, a
growing taste for literature and art. Jonathan Edwards's meta-
physical writings and Franklin's philosophical treatises had
excited much attention even in the Old World. West and
Copley had already achieved a reputation as artists of ability and
skill.

The usual mode of travel was on foot or horseback, the roads
being poor, and as yet few bridges across the rivers. Chaises
and gigs, however, were in use, with their high wheels, and bodies
hung low on wooden springs. People along the coast journeyed
largely by means of sloops navigated by a man and a boy. The
trip from New York to Philadelphia occupied three days if the
wind was fair. There was a wagon running bi-weekly from New

York across New
Jersey. Conveyan-
ces were put on in
1766, which made
the unprecedented
time of two days
from New York to
Philadelphia. They
were, therefore,
termed " flying machines." The first stage route was between
Providence and Boston, taking two days for the trip.

A post-office system had been effected by the combination
of the colonies, which united the whole country. The rate of
postage was fourpence for each letter if carried less than sixty
miles, sixpence between sixty and a hundred and sixty miles,

THE OLD STAGE COACH.

EDUCATION IN THE COLONIES. 8/

and twopence for every hundred miles thereafter. A mail was
started in 1672, between New York and Boston, by way of Hart-
ford. By contract the round trip was to be made monthly.
Benjamin Franklin was one of the early postmasters - general.
He made a grand tour of the country in his chaise, perfecting
and maturing the plan. His daughter Sally accompanied him,
riding sometimes by his side in the chaise, and sometimes on
the extra horse which he had with him. It took five months
to make the rounds which could now be performed in as many
days.

Education early made great progress. Under the eaves of the
church the Puritans always built a school-house. The records of
Boston contain the following: ** The 13th of ye 2nd month, 1635.
It was then generally agreed upon yt our brother Philemon Pur-
mount shall be intreated to become schoolmaster for ye teaching
and nourturing of all children with us." When the city was but
six years old, four hundred pounds were appropriated to the semi-
nary at Cambridge, now known as Harvard University. Some
years after, each family gave a peck of corn or a shilling in cash for
its support. In 1700, ten ministers, having previously so agreed,
brought together a number of books, each saying as he laid down
his gift, '' I give these books for founding a college in Connecticut."
This was the beginning of Yale College. It was first established
at Say brook, but in 1716 was removed to New Haven. It was
named from Governor Yale, who befriended it most generously.
Earlier than this, common schools had been provided, not, how-
ever, free, but supported by voluntary offerings. In 1647, Massa-
chusetts made the support of schools compulsory and education
universal and free. We read that, in 1665, every town had a
free school, and, if it contained over one hundred families, a gram-
mar school. In Connecticut every town that did not keep a school
for three months in the year was liable to a fine.

The Middle Colonies had already their colleges and many
humbler schools scattered through the towns. In the Dutch
period it was usual for the schoolmaster, in order to increase
his emoluments, to act as town-clerk, sexton, and chorister ; to
ring the bell, dig graves, etc. ;. somewhat after the custom still
preserved in the country schools of Germany. Licenses were
granted to schoolmasters for exclusive privileges.

The following, given by an English governor, Lovelace, for Al-
bany, then a mere rude hamlet, in 1670, is still preserved : Where-

88 COLONIAL LIFE.

as, Jan Jeurians Beecker had a Graunt to keep y« Dutch school at
Albany for y® teaching of youth to read & to wryte y^ which
was allowed of and confirmed to him by my predecessor Coll.
Richard Nicolls Notwithstanding which severall others not so
capable do undertake y® like some perticular tymes & seasons of
y® yeare when they have no other Imployment, where by y® schol-
lars removing from one Schoole to another do not onely give a
great discouragement to y^ maister who makes it his businesse all
y^ yeare but also are hindred & become y^ more backwards in
there learning fFor y® reasons aforesaid I have thought fitt that y®
said Jan Jeurians Beecker who is esteemed very capable that way
shall be y^ allowed schoolmaster for y® instructing of y^ youth at
Albany & partes adjacent he following y^ said Imployment Con-
stantly & diligently & that no other be admitted to interrupt him
It being to be presumed that y® said Beecker for y® youth &
Jacob Joosten who is allowed of for y^ teaching of y® younger
children are sufficient for that place.

Given under my hand at ffort James in New-Yorke this i6th
day of May 1670.

In the English period some of the New York schools were
kept by Dutch masters, who taught English as an accomplish-
ment. In 1702, an act was passed for the " Encouragement of a
Grammar Free School in the City of New York." Kings (now
Columbia) College, was chartered in 1754. It is a noticeable fact
that the astronomical instrument known as the Orrery, invented
by Dr. Rittenhouse in 1768, is still preserved in Princeton College.
No European institution had its equal. At Lewiston, Delaware,
is said to have been established the first girls' school in the col-
onies. The first school in Pennsylvania was started about 1683,
where "reading, writing, and casting accounts" were taught, for
eight English shillings per annum.

The Southern Colonies met with great difficulties in their efforts
to establish schools. Though Virginia boasts of the second oldest
college in the Union, yet her English governors bitterly opposed
the progress of education. Governor Berkeley, of whose haughty
spirit we have already heard, said, " I thank God there are no free
schools nor printing-presses here, and I hope we shall not have
them these hundred years." The restrictions upon the press were
so great that no newspaper was published in Virginia until 1736,
and that was controlled by the government. Free schools were

NEW ENGLAND IN THE SEVENTEENTH CENTURY.

established in Maryland in 1696, and a free school in Charleston,
South Carolina, in 171 2. Private schools were early established
by the colonists in every
neighborhood. The rich-
er planters commonly sent
their sons to England to
be educated.

At the opening of the
Revolution there were nine
colleges in the colonies
Harvard, founded 1636
William and Mary, 1693
Yale, 1700; Princeton,
1 746 ; University of Penn-
sylvania, 1749; Columbia,
1754; Brown University,
1764; Dartmouth, 1769;

Rutgers, 1770. There was early printing-press.

no law or theological

school, although a medical school had been founded in Philadel-
phia 1762, and one in New York 1769.

J^^PN^^^^X^r^

NEW E]MQLAND IN THE SEVENTEENTH CENTUF^Y.

The New England character was marked by severe integrity.
Conduct was shaped by a literal interpretation of the Scriptures.
Private morals were carefully watched by the authorities in
church and state. In the earliest times the ministers had almost
entire control, and a church reproof was considered the heaviest
disgrace. But something further was soon found necessary for
less tender consciences and more flagrant offenders. A man was
whipped for shooting fowl on Sunday. The swearer was made
to meditate over his sin, standing in a public place with his
tongue in a cleft stick ; sometimes he was fined twelve pence, or
set in the stocks, or imprisoned, " according to the nature and
quality of the person." In exaggerated offences, the unruly
member was bored through with a hot iron. Minor transgres-
sions of the tongue were not winked at, and the unhappy house-

COLONIAL LIFE.

A SCOLD GAGGED.

wife, whose temper got the better of her wisdom, had sorry
leisure for repentance. ^' Scolds," says Josselyn, writing of the

old " Body of Laws of 1646,"
"they gag and set them at
their doors for certain hours,
for all comers and goers. by
to gaze at." " Ducking in
running water " is also men-
tioned as a punishment for
this class of offenders. Philip
RatclifFe, of the colony, was
sentenced to " be whipped,
have his ears cut off, fined
forty shillings, and banished
out of the limits of the juris-
diction, for uttering mali-
cious and scandalous speeches
against the government and
the church of Salem." As
to the " prophanely behaved "
person, who lingered " without dores att the meeting-house on
the Lord's dales," to indulge in social chat or even to steal a
quiet nap, he was " admonished " by the constables ; on a second
offence " sett in the stockes," and if
his moral sense was still perverted, he
was cited before the court. If any man
should dare to interrupt the preach-
ing or falsely charge the minister with
error, '* in the open face of the church,"
or otherwise make ** God's wayes con-
temptible and ridiculous, — every such
person or persons (whatsoever censure
the church may passe) shall for the first
scandall bee convented and reproved

openly by the magistrates at some Lecture, and bound to their
good behaviour. And if the second time they breake forth into
the like contemptuous carriages, they shall either pay five pounds
to the publique Treasure or stand two houres openly upon a block
or stoole four foott high uppon a Lecture day, with a paper fixed
on his Breast, written with capitalle letters, An open and obstinate
contemner of God's holy ordinances^'

r^T^:^-'^

THE STOClCS.

NEW ENGLAND IN THE SEVENTEENTH CENTURY, 91

The first '' meeting-houses " consisted of a single room, per-
haps twenty by thirty -six feet in size and twelve feet high " in the
stud." The roof was either shingled or thatched with long
grass. It was a great advance when they were able to have it
" lathed on the inside, and so daubed and whitened over, work-
manlike." They were afterwards built with a pyramidal roof,
crowned with a belfry. The bell-rope hung from the centre, and
the sexton performed his office half way between the pulpit and
the large entrance door. Such a meeting-house, built in 168 1,
still stands in Hingham, Massachusetts.

In the early Plymouth days every house opened on Sunday
morning at the tap of the drum. The men in '' sad colored man-
tles," and armed to the teeth, the women in sober gowns,
kerchiefs and hoods, all assembled in front of the captain's house.
Three abreast, they marched up the hill to the meeting-house,
where every man set down his musket within easy reach. The
elders and deacons took their seat
in a '* long pue " in front of the
preacher's desk, facing the congre-
gation. The old men, the young
men, and the young women each
had their separate place. The
boys were gravely perched on the
pulpit-stairs or in the galleries, and
had a constable or tithing-man to
keep them in order. The light
came straggling through the little
diamond - shaped window-panes,
weirdly gilding the wolf-heads

1 • 1 1 . l n J. THE FIRST CHURCH ERECTED IN CONNECTICUT.

which hung upon the walls— tro- hartford, 1638.

phies of the year's conquests. As

glass was scarce, oiled paper was sometimes used in its stead. The
service began with the long prayer, and was followed by reading
and expounding of the Scriptures, a psalm — lined by one of the
ruling elders — from Ains worth's Version, which the colonists
brought over with them, and the sermon. Instrumental music
was absolutely proscribed, as condemned by the text (Amos v. 23),
*' I will not hear the melody of thy viols " ; and one tune for each
metre was all those good old fathers needed. Those now known
as York, Hackney, Windsor, St. Marys, and Martyrs were the
standard stock, and they were intoned with a devout zeal almost

92 COLONIAL LIFE.

forgotten in these modern times of organs and trained choirs.
The approved length of the sermon was an hour, and the sexton
turned the hour-glass which stood upon the desk before the min-
ister. But woe to the unlucky youngster whose eyelids drooped
in slumber! The ever-vigilant constables, with their wands
tipped on one extremity with the foot and on the other with the
tail of a hare, brought the heavier end down sharply on the little
nodding, flaxen head. The careworn matron who was betrayed
into a like offence was gently reminded of her duty by a touch
on the forehead with the softer end of the same stick. After the
sermon came the weekly contribution. The congregation,
sternly solemn, marched to the front, the chief men or magis-
trates first, and deposited their offerings in the money-box held
by one of the elders or deacons. The occupants of the galleries
also came down, and marching two abreast, up one aisle and
down another, paid respect to the church treasury in money,
paper promises, or articles of value, according to their ability.
Among other provisions made or recommended for the support
of the pastor, we find the following : '' 1662. The court proposeth
it as a thing they judge would be very commendable & bene-
ficiall to the townes where God's providence shall cast any
whales, if they should agree to sett apart some p'te of every
such fish or oyle for the incouragement of an able and godly
minister amongst them."

A search among the old colonial records is rewarded by
curious glimpses of Puritan character. Old bachelors seem to
have been held by the fathers in small respect, and on account of
the " great inconvenience " arising from their anomalous condition,
it was ordered that '* henceforth noe single p'sons be suffered to live
of himself or in any family, but as the celect men of the towne
shall approve of." No youth under twenty-one should '' take any
tobacko untill hee had brought a certificate under the hands of
some who are approved for knowledge and skill in phisick, that it
is useful for him, and also that he hath received a lycense from
the courte for the same." We read of fines for the juryman who
should indulge in tobacco the same day of rendering verdict ;
also for all persons — except soldiers on training days — who used
it " in very uncivil manner publickly " in the streets ; or " within
ten miles of any house, and then not more than once a day " ;
penalties for the " bringing in to the colony of any Quaker,
Rantor, or other notorious heritiques," and, strangest of all to

NEW ENGLAND IN THE SEVENTEENTH CENTURY. 93

the eyes of the active, wire-pulling politician of to-day, a law
that any who ^' were elected to the office of Governor, and would
not stand to the election, nor hold and execute the office for his
year," should '* be amerced in Twenty pounds sterling fine," as
the price of his modesty or contumacy ! O for the refreshing
shadow of our great-grandfathers to overhang the nineteenth
century caucus !

Fast and thanksgiving were the great public days. A fast-day
was regularly kept at the season of annual planting ; but days of
fasting and prayer were often appointed on account of some special
or threatened calamity. In 1644, one day in every month was or-
dered to be thus observed. Excellent care, however, was always
taken to avoid a fast on Good Friday, as well as to keep clear of
a feast on Christmas. Our Puritan forefathers were rigidly jeal-
ous of the slightest concession to " Popish " customs. We cannot
suppress a smile when we read that, not content with denying the
title of " Saint " to the apostles and ancient Christian fathers, they
even refused to speak it when applied to places. '^ The Island of
St. Christophers was always wrote Christophers, and by the same
rule all other places to which Saint had been prefixed. If any
exception was made, an answer was ready : Abraham, Isaac, and
Jacob had as good right to this appellation as Peter, James, and
John." '' Because," says Lechford, " they would avoid all
memory of heathenish and idols' names," they designated the
days of the week and the months of the year by numbers.
March was the first month, and Sunday or Sabbath, as they
styled it, the first day. Morton, who complained before the
Lords Commissioners of the Plantations in England of some of
the Puritan ways, especially marriages by magistrates, says,
** The people of New England hold the use of a ring in marriage
to be a relique of popery, a diabolical circle for the Devell to
daunce in."

Whatever cheer was lost, from conscientious scruples, at
Christmas-tide, was made up on Thanksgiving day, especially in
Connecticut. From its first celebration, eighteen years after the
Mayflower landing, it was the great social event of the whole
twelve months. The growing family was gathered, from far and
near, and clustering round the paternal hearthstone, forgot every
trial in the joys of kinship. For days before it came, the plump-
est fowls, the yellowest pumpkins, and the finest of vegetables
were marked and put aside. The stalled ox and the fatted calf

94 COLONIAL LIFE.

were killed. When the glad morning arrived a happy flutter
pervaded every home. Children's feet pattered over the old farm-
house from cellar to garret and made the rafters echo with their
noisy glee. '' Sometimes there were so many that the house
would scarcely hold them ; but the dear old grandmother, whose
memory could hardly keep the constantly lengthening record of
their births, and whose eye, dim with tears and age, could never
see which child to love the best, welcomed each with a trembling
hand and overflowing heart." — {Hollisters Hist, of Conn.) After
the public service, came the generous dinner ; and then all gath-
ered around the blazing hickory fire to listen to the joys and
perils of the year. As the little eyes grew sleepy and fair heads
began to nod with very weariness of enjoyment, the old family
Bible was brought out, and the day was closed with a fervent
thanksgiving for mercies past and supplications for the future.
Huskings, apple-parings, and quiltings were also favorite occa-
sions for social gathering. Governor Winthrop prohibited cards
and gaming-tables. Dancing, however, was not entirely for-
bidden in New England circles, for we read that it was long the
custom in Connecticut for the young people of a parish to cele-
brate the settlement of the new minister by an ordination ball.
But these gradually fell into disrepute, and were at last sup-
pressed by public sentiment.

The houses of most of the first settlers were, of necessity,
primitive — a log cabin, often of a single room, with an immense
chimney built externally at its side. The chinks between the
logs were ** daubed," as the term was, with a mortar of clay
and straw. Tall grass, gathered along the beaches, was largely
used for the thatching of roofs. There were not wanting,
however, some " fair and stately houses," for which the New
Haven people were reproved as having '' laid out too much of
their stocks and estates" in them. One Isaac Allerton, especially,
is mentioned as having '' built a grand house on the creek, with
four porches." Governor Coddington built a brick house in
Boston before he went thence to found his colony. Rev. Mr.
Whitefield's stone house in Guilford, Conn., has endured two hun-
dred and thirty-seven years, and is the oldest house, standing
as originally built, in the United States, north of Florida. After
thirty years, a better class of dwellings began to be more com-
mon. They were usually made of heavy oak frames, put together
in the most solid manner, and made secure at night by massive

NEW ENGLAND IN THE SEVENTEENTH CENTURY.

9i>

y5s\s'>x>^'=*>^"

WHITEFIELD S HOUSE, GUILFORD, CONNECTICUT.

wooden bars. After the Indians and wild beasts had been driven
back by increased settlement, bolts and bars fell into disuse. The
foundations of the huge
old stone chimneys were
about twelve feet square.
Forest logs four feet in
length were piled upon
the ponderous andirons,
and on occasions a big
"back -log" was drawn
into the house by a horse,
and then rolled into the
fireplace with hand-spikes.
'* Blazing hearthstones "
had then a meaning at
which, in our days of fur-
naces and steam -pipes,
we can only guess. No
need for artificial venti-
lators when, through the

crevices of the building, swept such keen, brisk currents of ain
In the morning the farmer and his family sat down to their break-
fast of '' bean porridge," or boiled cornmeal and milk, with a
healthy appetite. Beer, cider, or cold water furnished their usual
beverage ; for tea and coffee were unknown in New England
homes in the seventeenth century. '' Rye and Indian " was the
staff of life on which they leaned the most. We can fancy a New
England table of those early days, with its pewter dishes, bright-
ened to their utmost polish, and, in the wealthier households, here
and there a silver beaker or tankard, the heirloom of the family.
The dinner, which is at noon, opens with a large Indian pudding
— ground corn sweetened with molasses — accompanied by an
appropriate sauce ; next come boiled beef and pork ; then
wild game with potatoes, followed by turnips and samp or succo-
tash. Pumpkins were served in various ways. Supper was also
a substantial meal, though generally eaten cold. Baked beans,
baked Indian pudding, and newly-baked rye and Indian bread
were standard dishes for Wednesday, " after the washing and
ironing agonies of Monday and Tuesday " ; salt fish on Saturday,
but never on Friday, the " Popish " fast-day ; and boiled Indian
pudding, with roast beef for those who could get it, on Sunday.

96 COLONIAL LIFE.

Although, from the scarcity of laborers, the proprietors toiled
often in the same fields with the servants they had brought over
from Old England, it must not be supposed that there were no
grades or degrees in society. Titles, however, were used spar-
ingly. Even that of Reverend does not seem to have been in use
for at least a half century after the Mayflower touched port — the
minister being addressed and recorded as Mr., Pastor, Teacher,
or Elder. The first prefix, in fact, indicated much more in old
colonial times than at present. Clergymen, the more distin-
guished members of the General Court, highly-born and Univer-
sity-bred men alone, were honored with it. Young men, of what-
ever rank, were seldom granted it. To be called Mr., or to have
one's name recorded by the secretary with that prefix, two hun-
dred years ago, was a pretty certain index of the person's rank as
respects birth, education, and moral character. As for the com-
mon people above the grade of servants, the yeomen, tenants,
owners of small estates, and even many deputies to the General
Court, they were content with the appellation of GoodmaUy thei
wives receiving the corresponding one of Goodwife. The title ol
Sir was often given to undergraduates at a university or college
who belonged to distinguished families. " Hence a son of Gov-
ernor Winthrop, Mr. Sherman, or Governor Treat, returning
home from Yale or Cambridge to spend a vacation, would be
greeted by his old companions as Sir Winthrop, Sir Sherman, or
Sir Treat." The Esquire or Squire was added or prefixed to de-
scendants of the English nobility, sons of baronets, knights, etc.
Such titles as " the Honored," " the Worshipful," '' the Worshipful
and much Honored," sometimes occur prefixed to such names as
John Winthrop, or Captain John AUyn. Militar}^ titles were
especially reverenced, for a long time " Captain " being the highest
given.

Training-day was a great event. All the men from sixteen to
sixty years of age were required to participate in the general drill.
There does not appear to have been any uniform dress, and no
music but that of the drum to inspirit the military movements ;
but as every member of the militia practised for the defence of
his own household, we can well imagine that there was lacking
neither zest nor zeal. At Plymouth, by law, trainings were
" always begun and ended with prayer." The pikemen — the tall-
est and strongest in the colony — shouldered their pikes — ten feet
in length, besides the spear at the end — with religious resolution ;

NEW ENGLAND IN THE SEVENTEENTH CENTURY.

the musketeers firmly grasped their clumsy old matchlocks ; and
the young Puritan boys looked on and sighed with envy, longing
for the time when they, too, might wear helmet and breastplate,
or a cotton-stufFed coat to turn the Indian arrows. To be even
a corporal in the militia was an honor which required an extra

H^>^•^^i^^-^

'Z;^^'^^^!^^^

TRAINING-DAY IN THE OLDEN TIME.

amount of humility to bear without danger to the soul. John
Hull, a prosperous Boston merchant, chosen to that office in 1648,
praises God for giving him *' acceptance and favor in the eyes
of His people, and, as a fruit thereof, advancement above his
deserts."

How would those ante-revolutionary fathers have stared at
our swift express trains, our lines of telegraphic wires, and our
pleasure-trips from Atlantic to Pacific shore ! Even a stage-coach
was to them a luxury yet unknown. The fair bride accompanied
her husband, gentleman or yeoman, on the wedding trip, from her
father's house to his own home, wherever it might be, seated on
a pillion behind him on his horse. She expected to prove a '' help
meet for him," as the minister's wedding counsels emphatically
enjoined ; and in her traveling costume of possibly a plain blue and
white gown, the product of her own industry, she was as lovely
in her sturdy husband's eye as the daintiest of modern brides can
ever hope to be. Indeed, her fresh, glowing cheeks, and plump,
elastic form might well strike envy to the heart of many a modern
7

COLONIAL LIFE.

A WEDDING JOURNEY.

belle. Notwithstanding the general simplicity of dress, however,
in the early colonial times, great public days called out many an
elegant costume. The rich articles of apparel brought over by
the higher class
of emigrants
were carefully
preserved, and
lace ruffles, elab-
orate embroid-
ery, silk and vel-
vet caps, and
gold and silver
shoe and knee
buckles, made a

gathering of wealthy colonists a
much gayer aflfair than a black-coat-
ed party of to-day. Tightly -fitting
small-clothes and high hose, a coat
extending to the knees and fastened
in front with buttons, clasps, or hooks

and eyes, its full skirts stiffened with buckram and the habit itself
profusely decorated with gold lace, a plaited stock of fine linen
cambric with a large silver buckle at the back of the neck, a
broad-brimmed, high-crowned, sugar-loaf hat, beneath which fell
the long, luxuriant curls of the bleached or powdered wig, and a
fashionable red cloak, gave to the dignified New England father
an air of unquestionable gentility. The skins of animals were much
used for garments. In the inventory of a wealthy Connecticut
settler, who died in 1649, are enumerated " two raccoon coats, one
wolf-skin coat, four bear-skins, three moose." Sheep and deer
skins did like service. The small-clothes usually fitted quite
closely to the person, and " those men were thought very fortu-
nate whose forms were such that they could wear small-clothes
above the hips without appurtenances, and stockings above the
calf of the leg without garters." The well-to-do matrons carried
their long-trailed gowns, " liberally set off with flounces and fur-
belows," gracefully over one arm, or had them "trolloped" in
loops at the side, or let them sweep their full course — " from half
a yard to a yard and a half" — along the floor. If in this they
transgressed the statute which forbade any excess '' beyond the
necessary end of apparell for covering," some of them evidently

NEW ENGLAND IN THE SEVENTEENTH CENTURY. 99

fulfilled its requirements in the upper cut of their robes, for before
the end of the seventeenth century we hear Boston denounced as
a "lost town," because of its " strange and fantastick fashions and
attire, naked backs and bare breasts." Not to be behind the
sugar-loaf appendages which brought their husbands up in the
world, the ladies appeared in towering head-dresses of crape,
muslin, or lace. The distinctions in dress between the higher
and lower ranks of society which marked the old country were
jealously guarded here. But American air from the first seems
to have been charged with independence, so that all who touched
our shores felt more or less the influence of the electric current.
The spirit of equal rights, born in the untamed forest and undis-
turbed for centuries, refused to be banished its native haunts. It
was, perhaps, as much an innocent ambition to rise in society as a
mere love of finery which tempted the common people to ape the
dress and condition of their betters in station. Before a score of
years had passed, this tendency had become a source of anxiety to
the careful colonial legislators. In 1640, it was ordered that as
" divers Persons of severall Ranks are obsearved still to exceede "
in their apparel, "the Constables of every towne within there
Libertyes shall observe and take notice of any particular Person
or Persons within thier several Lymits, and all such as they judge
to exceede thier condition and Rank therein, they shall present
and warn to appear at the particular Court." Among the pro-
scribed articles appear "embroidered and needle -work caps,"
"gold and silver girdles," "immoderate great sleeves,'* and
" slashed apparel." Rev. Nathaniel Ward, author of the " Body
of Liberties," which was adopted (1641) as the code of laws for
Massachusetts, and substantially for Connecticut, was sorely tried
by the " female foppery " of the time. In a book entitled " The
Simple Cobler of Agawam, in America, Willing to help Mend
his Native Country, lamentably tattered, both in the Upper-
leather and the Sole," etc., illustrative of colonial life and man-
ners, he thus breaks forth : " I honour the woman that can honour
herselfe with her attire ; a good text alwayes deserves a fair mar-
gent ; I am not much offended if I see a trimme, far trimmer than
she that wears it; in a word, whatever Christianity or Civility
will allow, I can afford with London measure ; but when I heare a
nugiperous gentle dame inquire what dresse the Queen is in this
week ; what the nudiustertian fashion of the Court ; I meane the
very newest ; with cgge to be in it in all haste, whatever it be : I

lOO COLONIAL LIFE.

look at her as the very gizzard of a trifle, the product of a quarter
of a cipher, the epitome of nothing, fitter to be kickt, if she were
of a kickable substance, than either honour'd or humour'd. To
speak moderately, I truly confesse, it is beyond the ken of my
understanding to conceive how those women should have any
true grace, or valuable vertue, that have so little wit as to dis-
figure themselves with such exotick garbes, as not only dismantles
their native lovely lustre, but transclouts them into gant bargeese
ill-shapen — shotten — shell-fish, Egyptian Hyeroglyphicks, or at
the best into French flurts of the pastery, which a proper English
woman should scorne with her heels ; it is no marvell they weare
drailes on the hinder part of their heads, having nothing as it
seems in the fore part, but a few squirrils* brains to help them
frisk from one ill-favored fashion to another." The evil seems
not to have been remedied in 1676, for we find that still the
^'rising Generation" was ''in danger to be corrupted" by an ex-
cess in apparel, which is *' testified against in God's holy Word,"
and it was therefore ordered that '' what person soever shall wear
Gold or Silver Lace, or Gold or Silver Buttons, Silk Ribbons, or
other costly superfluous trimmings, or any bone Lace above three
shillings per yard, or Silk Scarfes," should pay equal taxes with
those whose rank or fortune allowed such privileges. The families
of public and military officers, and " such whose quality and estate
have been above the ordinary degree, though now decayed," were
excepted from this decree. These good old fathers even went
further in their restrictions : '' It is further ordered that all such
persons as shall for the future make, or weave, or buy any apparell
exceeding the quality and condition of their persons and Estates, or
that is apparently beyond the necessary end of apparell for cover-
ing or comeliness, either of these to be Judged by the Grand Jury
and County Court where such presentments are made, shall for-
feit for every such offence ten shillings."

These sumptuary laws were not a dead letter, for we hear that
Alice Flynt's '' silk hood " was cited before the court, and she re-
quired to prove that she was entitled to wear it by her property
of two hundred pounds; and of the "great boots" of Jonas Fair-
banks, out of the shadow of whose guilt he managed to escape.

The price of wages was also regulated by law, and it was settled
(1641) that " carpenters, plowrights, wheelrights, masons, joyners,
smithes, and coopers shall not take above twenty pence for a day's
work from the loth of March to the loth of October, and not

THE DUTCH IN NEW YORK. lOI

above eighteen pence a day for the other part of the yere, and to
work ten hours in the day in the summer tyme, besides that which
is spent in eating or sleeping, and six hours in the winter." The
court, however, soon '' found by experience that it would not avail
by any law to redress the excessive rates of laborers' and work-
men's wages, etc. ; for, being restrained, they would either remove
to other places where they might have more, or else, being able
to live by planting and other employments of their own, they
would not be hired at all." — (Winthrop^

THE DUTCH IN JNEW YORK.

The followers of Hendrick Hudson were quite a different
people. To the bustling energy and severe religious laws of
New England they opposed an easy good nature and impertur-
bable content. Only in the painfulness of extreme neatness did
they resemble and even surpass their northern and eastern
neighbors. Let us recall a comfortable Dutch mansion of the
seventeenth century. Its gable-end of small black and yellow
Dutch bricks, receding in regular steps from the base of the roof
to the summit, and there crowned with a " fierce little weather-
cock," stood squarel)^ to the street. Not ashamed to let its age
be known, it was proclaimed in straggling iron figures upon the
front. The inevitable porch, elevated by a few steps, was covered
by a wooden awning, or perhaps a lattice-work, over which
luxuriantly drooped and wandered a wild grape-vine. Multi-
tudes of wrens flitted in and out this sylvan nook, and, says a
Scotch lady, reporting Albany life at this period, " while break-
fasting or drinking tea in the airy portico, birds were constantly
gliding over the table with a butterfly, grasshopper, or cicada in
their bills to feed their young, who were chirping above." These
porches were the universal rendezvous in the after-part of the
day. The old people clustered together in one, the younger in
another, and the children sat placidly on the steps and ate their
bread and milk before retiring ; while the beaux sauntered along
and cast shy glances toward their favorite maidens, or accepted
an invitation to join the little group. The gutters on the roofs
often stretched almost to the middle of the street, to the great

I02

COLONIAL LIFE.

annoyance of passers-by. The front door, opened only on rare
occasions, was ornamented with a gorgeous brass knocker,
wrought in a curious animal device. This was the pride of the
housewife, and was burnished daily with intense solicitude. A
wide passage extended through the house, with doors at either
end ; this, furnished with chairs and having always a scrupulously

DUTCH MANSION AND COTTAGE IN NEW AMSTERDAM.

white sanded floor, served for a summer parlor. Aside from this
reception-hall, there were but two large rooms on the first floor,
with light, ample closets adjoining. On account of the difficulty
of warming these, and to save the best furniture from the dust
and smoke of huge wood fires, the family usually retired in the
winter to a small addition in the rear, consisting of one or two
rooms above and below. This was built of wood, as indeed was
ordinarily the whole house, except the pretentious gable front.
While the Connecticut mistress spun, wove, and stored her
household linens in crowded chests, the Dutch matron scrubbed
and scoured her polished floor and woodwork. Dirt in no form
could be endured bv her; and dear as water was in the city.

MANNERS AND CUSTOMS OF THE DUTCH. IO3

where it was generally sold at a penny a gallon, it was used
unsparingly. Fine furniture was the good housewife's weakness.
Ponderous tables, drawers resplendent with brass ornaments,
quaint comer cupboards, beds and bedsteads, and even the
frying-pan and immense Dutch oven had her most loving regards.
** The mirrors, the paintings, the china, but, above all, the state
bed," records the author above mentioned, *' were considered as
the family seraphim, secretly worshipped and only exhibited on
very rare occasions." " The grand parlor," says Washington
Irving, " was the sanctum sanctorum where the passion for
cleaning was indulged without control. In this sacred apartment
no one was permitted to enter excepting the mistress and her
confidential maid, who visited it once a week for the purpose of
giving it a thorough cleaning and putting things to rights —
always taking the precaution of leaving their shoes at the door
and entering devoutly on their stocking feet. After scrubbing
the floor, sprinkling it with fine white sand, which was curiously
stroked into angles, and curves, and rhomboids with a broom —
after washing the windows, rubbing and polishing the furniture,
and putting a new bunch of evergreens in the fireplace, the win-
dow-shutters were again closed to keep out the flies, and the
room carefully locked up until the revolution of time brought
round the weekly cleaning day."

In the early spring the good vrow donned her green calash,
took her rake over her shoulder, and with her little painted
basket of seeds went out to make the family garden. Myn-
heer was much too clumsy to be trusted in the delicate care of
salads and sweet herbs, celery or asparagus ; cabbages and
potatoes and such like he cultivated in the field between the rows
of Indian com, but into the little spot sacred to the tenderer
plants, no foot of man intruded, after it was dug in spring. The
stakes to the simple deal fence, which enclosed the garden and
the orchard, were oddly ornamented with skeleton heads of
cattle and of horses ; the jaws being fixed on the pole, with the
skull uppermost. Samson's riddle here received a daily exempli-
fication, for the birds built their nests therein and sent forth
broods of young ones from the ghastly orifice. In clearing the
way for the first establishment, a tree was always left in the mid-
dle of the back yard for the sole benefit of these little songsters ;
this tree being pollarded at midsummer when full of sap, every
excised branch left a little hollow, and every hollow was the home

I04 COLONIAL LIFE.

of a bird. It was also a custom to leave an ancient tree, or to
plant one of some kind directly in front of the doorway, which
the household regarded with great veneration.

Every family had a cow, fed through the day in a common
pasture at the end of the town. They came at night and went in
the morning of their own accord, like proper adjuncts to sedate
and systematic households, and their tinkling bells never failed to
warn of their approach along the grassy streets when the proper
hour for milking arrived. Being allowed, however, to roam the
town from evening to morning milking, they, by no means,
improved the neatness of the highways, which presented a
strange contrast in that respect to the immaculate interiors of the
houses. On dark nights housekeepers were required to keep
lights — tallow candles — in their front windows, and ''every
seventh householder ** was obliged to " hang out a lanthorn and
candle on a pole."

The happy burghers breakfasted at dawn, dined at eleven, and
retired at sunset. No change was ever made in the arrangements
for the family dinner in favor of a guest, and the unexpected
visitor was received at that meal with unmistakable signs of
coldness and disfavor. A company tea, however, was a " perfect
regale," and cakes, sweetmeats, cold pastry, and fruit in abundance
garnished a table which also often tempted by a fine array of
roasted game or poultry, or, in its season, shell-fish. Clams —
called clippers — was a favorite food. The tea was served from a
large porcelain tea-pot, " ornamented with paintings of fat little
shepherds and shepherdesses tending pigs, with boats sailing in
the air and houses built in the clouds " — a cherished souvenir of
Delft in the dear mother-country. The decoction was taken
without milk, but a lump of sugar was placed beside each cup,
the company alternately nibbling and sipping according to indi-
vidual relish. Another custom was to suspend an immense lump
of sugar by a string from the ceiling directly overhead, so that it
could be swung from mouth to mouth and prevent unnecessary
waste. Irving has so inimitably portrayed a '* fashionable tea-
party " of those days that it were a pity not to recall it here.
'' These fashionable parties were generally confined to the higher
classes, that is to say, those who kept their own cows and drove
their own wagons. The company commonly assembled at three
o'clock, and went away about six, unless it was winter time, when
the fashionable hours were a little earlier, that the ladies might

MANNERS AND CUSTOMS OF THE DUTCH. lOS

get home before dark. The tea-table was crowned with a nuge
earthen dish, well stored with slices of fat pork, fried brown, cut
up into morsels, and swimming in gravy. Sometimes the table
was graced with immense apple pies, or saucers full of preserved
peaches and pears ; but it was always sure to boast an enormous
dish of doughnuts or olykoeks. At these decorous gatherings the
young ladies seated themselves demurely in their rush-bottomed
chairs, and knit their own woolen stockings ; nor ever opened
their lips except to say. Yah Mynheer^ or, Yah ya Vrouw, to any
question that was asked them. As to the gentlemen, each of
them tranquilly smoked his pipe, and seemed lost in contempla-
tion of the blue and white tiles with which the fireplaces were
decorated ; wherein sundry passages of Scripture were piously
portrayed. Tobit and his dog figured to great advantage ;
Haman swung conspicuously on his gibbet, and Jonah appeared
most manfully bouncing out of the whale." A silent grace before
meat was the usual habit with the Hollanders. Mush or bread
with buttermilk, *' and if to that they added sugar, it was thought
delicious," constituted the standard family supper. On occasion
of Dutch dances, a pot of chocolate and some bread were deemed
sufficient refreshment. New Year's Day was the one of all the
year for gayety and festivity. Our delightful fashion of New
Year's calls is an inheritance from the Hollanders, who were also
accustomed to exchange presents and other complimentary tokens
on that day. General Washington, speaking of this usage, once
remarked : " New York will in process of years gradually change
its ancient customs and manners ; but whatever changes take
place, never forget the cordial observance of New Year's Day."
To the Dutch also we owe our Christmas visit of Santa Claus,
colored eggs at Easter, doughnuts, crullers, and New Year's
cookies.

A Dutch belle of the seventeenth century wore her hair
smoothly plastered back with suet tallow, under a quilted cap.
Her gayly-striped linsey-woolsey petticoat — or rather petticoats,
for her fortune was estimated by the number of garments she
wore — came a little below the knee, affording an admirable view
of her blue worsted stockings, adorned with bright red clocks,
and her high-heeled, silver-buckled leather shoes. From her
girdle depended her huge patch-work pocket, her scissors and
her pincushion, potent charms, or possibly coquetries of the
times, which did not fail to touch the tender part of Mj-nheer's

io6

COLONIAL LIFE.

nature when, between his puffs, he settled the question of a com-
petent vrow. The work-basket always accompanied her on picnic
excursions, and while '' the boys " fished or hunted to procure

game for the coming
supper, the girls con-
soled themselves for
their absence in knit-
ting or sewing. The
walls of the " spare
room " in a Dutch
home were not in-
frequently covered
with extra homespun
garments, a rather
unique decoration,
but an honest certifi-
cate of the industry,
and considered as a
sign of the wealth,
of the household.
As to Mynheer him-
self, the number of
his breeches or galli-
gaskins rivalled those
of his fair one's petti-
coats, and unneces-
sarily heightened the
proportions of his rotund figure. His linsey-woolsey coat — doubly
precious when spun and woven by the fair maid of his choice, as
often it was, for love-gifts were substantial then — was profusely
adorned with large brass buttons ; enormous copper buckles set
off his unquestionably broad understanding ; a low-crowned, wide-
brimmed hat shadowed his phlegmatic countenance, and his hair
dangled down his back in a prodigious queue of eelskin. His pipe
was an indispensable adjunct to his mouth.

The young Albanian had a custom of proving his worth to his
lady-love by pushing, with a cargo of blankets, guns, beads, and
various articles packed in a light canoe, into the deep forest,
attended only by a faithful slave, and establishing trade with the
Indians. If he succeeded well, he enlarged his business and
followed it through life, or disposing of his schooner — which it

DUTCH COURTSHIP.

MAl^NERS AND CUSTOMS OF THE DUTCH. 107

was his pride to own before he settled down — embraced less
exciting mercantile or agricultural pursuits. The usual dower of
a daughter was a well-brought-up female slave and the furniture
of the best bed-chamber. There were two standard amusements
among young people — sliding down hill in winter, and pillaging
pigs and turkeys from a neighbor's garden. This was con-
sidered frolic, not theft, though the owner — if he failed to over-
take and chastise the robbers, which was his token of gallantry —
never saw his property again. The married man shut himself
out from these sports, as unbefitting his dignity, but the bride-
groom was sure to receive such a visit from some of his old com-
panions. A story is told of two parties out one night on the
same business. Both attacked the same place. The chief of the
second party, finding the game gone, suspected the other, and
followed it to an inn, where he found the coveted pig roasting
before the fire. Sending the maid out on a trivial excuse, he cut
the string by which the pig was suspended, and laying it in the
dripping-pan, carried it swiftly through the dark and quiet streets
to another inn, where his companions were awaiting him. The
first party, not to be outdone, and rightly guessing the offenders,
sent a messenger to the other inn, where supper and " the pig "
had just been served. Throwing a huge parcel of shavings
before the door, he touched a match to them, and crying ** fire "
with all his might, soon drew every occupant to the front. Steal-
ing in the back way, he secured the traveled treasure, and rushing
back to his friends, they feasted on the spoils. Strawberries
abounded in June, when " the country people, perceiving that the
fields and woods were dyed red, would go forth with wine,
cream, and sugar ; and instead of a coat of mail, every one takes
up a female behind him on horseback, and starting for the fields,
set to picking the fruit and regaling themselves as long as they
list."

Our Dutch friends seem to have regarded offences of the
tongue with as little favor as the Puritans, though their punish-
ments were milder. In 1638, one Hendrick Jansen is made to
stand at the fort door at the ringing of the bell, and ask the gov-
ernor's pardon for having ** scandalized " him. This same Hen-
drick Jansen, evidently an over-officious reformer, preferred a
charge against the minister's wife for having ** drawn up her petti-
coat a little way in the street." A woman who had the temerity to
slander the minister was obliged also to appear at the fort door.

io8

COLONIAL LIFE.

and publicly confess that " she knew he was honest and pious, and
that she lied falsely." The " wooden horse " was a peculiar pun-
ishment. It had a very sharp back, upon which the offender was
tightly strapped, or had weights tied to his feet, the horse being
first put into the cart body. A woman was the first who received
this penalty, and the instrument was named after her, " the horse
of Mary Price." Culprits were sometimes led about the town
fastened to the back of the cart, being whipped as they went.
These customs continued as late as the middle of the eighteenth
century, as witness an advertisement from the New York
Gazette of March, 1750: '* The Public Whipper being lately dead,
twenty pounds a year is offered to a successor at the mayor's
office." This, with other short items, is printed on the margin
of the sheet, in a transverse direction to the column matter,
another instance of the economy of the early New Yorkers.

The Dutch dominies were paid sometimes in beaver-skins —
the dominie of Albany at one time received one hundred and fifty
— and sometimes in wampum or seawant, a kind of Indian money

consisting of strings of clam-
shells. Its current value was
six beads of the white or three
of the black for an English
penny. In 1641, the New York
City Council complains that " a
great deal of bad seawant, nasty,
rough things, imported from
other places," was in circula-
tion, while " the good, splendid
Manhattan seawant was out of
sight or exported, which must
cause the ruin of the country T
The city schoolmasters of those
days acted also as clerks, chor-
isters, and visitors of the sick.
The names of those old Dutch
dignitaries sound strangely
enough to modern ears. There
were the hoofd-schout (high
sheriff), the wees-meester (guardian of orphans), the roy-meester
(regulator of fences), the eyck-meester (weigh-master), the geheim-
schry ver (recorder of secrets), and the groot burgerrecht, or great

YE DUTCH SCHOOLMASTER.

MANNERS AND CUSTOMS OF THE DUTCH. I09

citizen, in opposition to the klein burgerrecht, or small citizen.
Only the " great citizens," of whom there were not more than a
score, could hold offices, and in 1668, the number being so small,
and many inconveniences arising in consequence, the distinction
was abolished.

We have not particularized the family life of that exceptional
class, the '' patroons," who occupied a position not unlike that of
an English baron with feudal retainers. Their social customs
were simply those of the best European society of the day.
They, themselves, were regarded by their numerous tenants with
a certain respect and reverence which has had no counterpart
since the Revolution. Holmes characterizes this feeling and the
former accepted distinction of ranks, in his poem of " Agnes,"
where a gentlemen of the olden time went out to drive,

" And all the midland counties through,

The ploughman stopped to gaze,
Where'er his chariot swept in view

Behind the shining bays,
With mute obeisance, grave and slow,

Repaid by bow polite —
Ju?r such the way with high and low^

Till after Concord! s fight*'

These lords of the manor lived in a princely way on their large
estates, which passed from father to son for more than a century.
When the Revolution broke out, many of them declared for the
king, and thus their lands became confiscated and their names
ceased to exist in the ruling offices of the country. Few, indeed,
in our democratic day, even know of the existence in those times
of estates whose tenants were numbered by thousands, the gather-
ing together of which was like that of the Scottish clans. When
death entered the family of the proprietor, they all came to do
honor at the funeral, " and many were the hogsheads of good ale
which were broached for them." When Philip Livingston, of
Livingston Manor, died, at both town and country house " a pipe
of wine was spiced for the occasion, and to each of the eight
bearers a pair of gloves, mourning ring, scarf, handkerchief, and
silver monkey spoon were given." The latter was so named from
its handle, whose extremity was in the form of an ape. Every
tenant also received a pair of black gloves and a handkerchief.
The whole expense amounted to five hundred pounds. In later
times (1753) Governor William Livingston wrote against extrava-

no COLONIAL LIFE.

gance in funerals ; and his wife, it is said, was the first one who
ventured, as an example of economy, to substitute linen scarfs
for the former silk ones.

In August, 1673, a Dutch fleet recaptured New York from the
British, and held it one year, calling it meantime New Orange^
after the Prince of Orange. During this time strict military dis-
cipline prevailed. " The Dutch mayor, at the head of the city
militia, held his daily parade before the City Hall (Stadt Huys),
then at Coenties Slip ; and every evening at sunset he received
from the principal guard of the fort, called hoofd-wagt^ the keys of
the city, and thereupon proceeded with a guard of six to lock the
city gates ; then to place a burger-wagt (citizen guard) as a night-
watch at various places. The same mayors went the rounds at
sunrise to open the gates and to restore the keys to the officer of
the fort." The comfort-loving burgher who accepted the posi-
tion of mayor in those days paid dearly for the honor in the loss
of his leisurely fireside smoke before breakfast in the morning.
Mrs. Sigourney has written some lines upon this period, which, as
a picture of the times, we copy from Watson's " Annals of New
York," to which book, and those equally rich and spicy volumes
entitled " Annals of Philadelphia," by the same author, we are in-
debted for many of the curious facts related in this chapter. The
lines run thus :

Lo, with the sun, came forth a goodly train,
The portly mayor with his full guard of state.

Hath aught of evil vexed their fair domain.
That thus its limits they perambulate.

With heavy, measured steps, and brows of care.

Counting its scattered roofs with fixed, portentous stare?

Behold the keys with solemn pomp restored
To one in warlike costume stoutly braced.

He, of yon fort, the undisputed lord.

Deep lines of thought are on his forehead traced,

As though of Babylon the proud command,

Or hundred-gated Thebes were yielded to his hand.

See, here and there, the buildings cluster round.
All, to the street, their cumbrous gables stretching,

With square-clipt trees and snug enclosures bound
(A most uncouth material for sketching) —

Each with its stoop, from whose sequestered shade

The Dutchman's evening pipe in cloudy volumes played.

MANNERS AND CUSTOMS IN THE SOUTH. Ill

Oh, had those ancient dames of high renown —

The Knickerbockers and the Rapaeljes,
With high-heeled shoes and ample ten-fold gown.

Green worsted hose, with clocks of crimson rays-
Had they, thro' time's dim vista, stretched their gaze.
Spying their daughters fair in these degenerate days,

With muslin robe and satin slipper white,

Thronging to routs, with Fahrenheit at zero,
Their sylphlike form, for household toils too slight.

But yet to winter's piercing blast a hero.
Here had they marvelled at such wondrous lot,
And scrubbing brush and broom for one short space forgot.

Yet deem them not for ridicule a theme,

Those worthy burghers with their spouses kind*
Scorning of heartless pomp, the gilded dream,

To deeds of peaceful industry inclined.
In hospitality sincere and grave.
Inflexible in truth, in simple virtue brave.

Hail, mighty city ! high must be his fame
Who round thy bounds, at sunrise, now should walk ;

Still wert thou lovely, whatsoe'er thy name,
New Amsterdam, New Orange, or New York,

Whether in cradle sleep on sea-weed laid.

Or on thine island throne, in queenly power arrayed.

EAFJLY COLONIAL LIfE IN THE gOUTH.

The manners of the Southerners on their plantations were
quite distinct from those of either Puritan or Dutch. The first
few years in all new colonies have necessarily a certain degree of
sameness. An enforced rude state of living engenders rude and
peculiar laws. Thus we find decrees in Virginia which strongly
smack of New England quaintness. The Established Church of
England was guarded with as jealous strictness in the South as
were Puritan principles in the North; the first laws of both
colonies pertaining to religious observances. In Virginia, accord-
ing to the regulations of 1632, a room or house in every planta-
tion was to be set apart for, and consecrated to, worship. Ab-
sence from service " without allowable excuse ** was punished with
a fine of a pound of tobacco, and if the absence continued a month,
with fifty pounds. There are rumors of other penalties in earlier

112 COLONIAL LIFE.

times, such as being tied neck and heels for a night, and serving as
a slave to the colony — a week for the first offence, a month for the
second, and a year and a day for the third. Certain culprits also
are mentioned as being made to stand in church, wrapped in a
snowy sheet and holding a white wand, like guilty ghosts or
transfixed lepers ; or as having the initial letter of their crime
fastened in a great, bold capital upon their back or breast, as in
New England.

Ministers were restrained from a neglect of their duties by a fine
of half their salary if they absented themselves for two months ;
losing the entire salary and the cure itself for an absence of double
that length of time. The salary aforesaid consisted of ten pounds
of tobacco and a bushel of corn — "the first-gathered and best" —
from every male over sixteen, with marriage, christening and
burial fees. In the earliest days, every twentieth calf, pig, and
kid in the parish were also his due. The clerical liberty was fur-
ther hedged in by an injunction not to give themselves " to
excess in drinking or riot, spending their time idly by day or
night, playing at cards, dice, or other unlawful games; but to
read or hear the Holy Scriptures, or to employ themselves in
other honorable studies or exercise, bearing in mind that they
ought to be examples to the people to live well and Christianly."
On the other hand, " he who disparaged a minister without proof,
was to be fined five hundred pounds of tobacco, and to beg the
minister's pardon publicly before the congregation." Drunken-
ness was fined five shillings, and every oath cost one shilling.
Virginians in 1674 are thus described by Bancroft: " The genera-
tion now in existence were chiefly the fruit of the soil; they were
children of the woods, nurtured in the freedom of the wilderness,
and dwelling in lonely cottages scattered along the streams. No
newspapers entered their houses ; no printing-press furnished them
a book. They had no recreations but such as nature provides in
her wilds ; no education but such as parents in the desert could
give their offspring. The paths were bridleways rather than
roads ; and the highway surveyors aimed at nothing more than to
keep them clear of logs and fallen trees. Visits were made in
boats or on horseback through the forests; and the Virginian,
traveling with his pouch of tobacco for currency, swam the rivers,
where there was neither ferry nor ford. The houses, for the
most part of one story, and made of wood, often of logs, the
windows closed by convenient shutters for want of glass, we»-e

MANNERS AND CUSTOMS IN THE SOUTH. II3

sprinkled at great distances on both sides of the Chesapeake, from
the Potomac to the line of Carolina. The parish was of such
extent, spreading over a tract which a day's journey could not
cross, that the people met together but once on the Lord's day,
and sometimes not at all; the church, rudely built in some
central solitude, was seldom visited by the more remote families,
and was liable to become inaccessible by the broken limbs from
forest trees, or the wanton growth of underwood and thickets/*

The genial atmosphere of the '* sunny South," so unlike the
bleak New England climate, and the entirely different products
of the two soils, each requiring its own peculiar mode of culture,
served constantly to increase the dissimilarity in character and
manners which primarily existed between the northern and the
southern settlers. The large plantations of the' latter necessi-
tated a numerous train of servants. These, supplied at first by
the apprentices brought over from England, were, in time, super-
seded by negro slaves.

There being but few books and little education in those early
times — only a few families being able to send their sons and daugh-
ters to England to be instructed — excitement was often sought in
bull-baiting, horse-racing, fox-hunting, and cock-fighting. These
amusements, looked upon with horror by the Puritans, were not
considered at all derogatory to the southern gentleman, who
copied his sports from those of the English nobility of that day.
The finest of horses were imported from the mother country, at
great care and expense, and the Virginian planter was pardonably
proud of his well-stocked stables.

The mode of originating a settlement, or, as Dr. Ramsay
quaintly styles it, '* breaking ground on bare creation," is thus
described in that author's History of South Carolina. The par-
ties migrate from the earlier settlements usually in March, or
about the breaking up of the winter. They " go with family and
plantation utensils, a few bushels of corn, and some domestic
animals. After fixing on a site, they build in two or three days a
cabin with logs, cut down and piled one upon another in the form
of a square or a parallelogram. The floor is of earth ; the roof is
sometimes of bark, but oftener of split logs. The light is received
through the door, and in some instances through a window of
greased paper, or the bottom of a broken glass bottle. Shelter
being prepared, their next care is to provide food. The large
trees are girdled and the underbrush destroyed. The ground,
8

EAKLY AMERICAN FLOW.

114 COLONIAL LIFE.

thus exposed to the action of the sun, is roughly ploughed or
hoed, and so favors the growth of the seed corn that in ninety

or a hundred days the
ears are large enough
to roast, and in six weeks
more the grain is ripe.
Meantime the settler
lives on the corn he
brought with him, and
on game and fish. His
axe and gun furnish him with the means of defence against In-
dians, wild beasts, and robbers. Light wood or the heart of dry
pine logs affords a cheap substitute for candles. The surplus of his
crop may be bartered for homespun garments, or, if he is married,
he may convert the wool of his sheep or the flax or cotton of his
field into coarse clothing for domestic use." In a few years a
frame house is built, floored, and shingled. Other grains besides
corn are cultivated. Fruits and vegetables supply his table. He
purchases one or two slaves. He builds a barn and other out-
houses. His children are put to school. He becomes a member
of a church. Tea, coffee, and sugar are found on his table. His
house is glazed and decently furnished. His stock is enlarged
and made to further serve the interests of his family. The woods
are ransacked for dye-stuffs, in which Carolina abounds, and the
homespun adds brilliancy to durability. In short, he has be-
come an independent man and respected citizen.

Emigrants from Maine and Vermont often struck into the
then far west, along the banks of the Monongahela or even of the
Ohio. We now speak of a time as late as just before the Revolu-
tion. Having established the " tomahawk right " by hacking the
trees around the circuit — four hundred acres — to which settlement
gave them free possession, they commenced pioneer life. Wild
turkeys, venison, and bears* meat gave them strength while they
waited the growth of pumpkins, squashes, and potatoes. A hom-
iny block was hollowed out by fire, and the corn was pounded by
a pestle ; sometimes, to lessen the toil, by a sweep sixteen feet long.
Nail-holes in a piece of tin formed a grater for the same purpose ;
two stones were also used, made to play upon each other in the
manner in vogue in Palestine since before the days when our
Saviour spoke of ''two women grinding at the mill." A piece of
deerskin stretched over a hoop and pierced with hot wire made a

LATER COLONIAL TIMES.

IIS

good sifter or bolting cloth. A large trough sunk in the ground
furnished a tan-vat for each family. Ashes were used instead of
lime to unhair the skin ; bears* grease or hogs' lard served for
fish-oil, and soot mixed with grease was an efficient blacking.
The bark was shaved and pounded. Every family did its own
shoe-making. ** Shoe packs " made like moccasins of single pieces
of leather often answered every purpose. The women spun and
wove the linsey-woolsey for the family clothing and fashioned
every garment.

LATEF( COJLOJNI/iJ. TIME3.

In the course of their first century, the rigor of Puritan laws
was somewhat softened. After the witchcraft terror had spent its
fury, that crime, as well as heresy and blasphemy, disappeared
from the statutes as capital offences. Here
and there, by the side of lonely cross-roads,,
the wanderer still stumbled over heaps of
stones, '' the brand of infamy " under which
the bones of the unhappy suicide were made
to rest ; and the pillory, the stocks, and the
whipping-post had by no means become obso«
lete as efficient instruments in pointing morals.
But branded cheeks and foreheads and decapi-
tated ears were rapidly vanishing from sight
as a means of stimulating sluggard religious
consciences, and a man might venture now on
a piece of mince-pie at Christmas without fear
of fine or punishment. Crimes committed
by slaves, who continued, to be held in New
England until the Revolution, were severely punished, and as late
as the middle of the eighteenth century negroes were burned at
the stake for such crimes as murder and arson.

Recreations and amusements, which in the first stages of
pioneer life are necessarily few, now received more indulgence.
"Popular assemblies" were introduced into Boston about 1740,
and although at first severely frowned upon by " all ladies of pro-
priety," so maintained and strengthened their hold that in a few
years a handsome hall was built and supported by the lovers of

THE PILLORY.

Il6 COLONIAL LIFE.

**musick, dancing, and other polite entertainments." In Litch-
field, Conn., in 1748, when a violin was used for the first time as
an accompaniment to the *' light fantastic toe," we learn that the
pastime was enjoyed by ''most of the young people," and, further,
that " the whole expense did not exceed one dollar, out of which
the fiddler was paid ! " Yet we are told that fathers and mothers
were wont, then as now, to shake their heads gravely, and sorrow-
fully bemoan the extravagance of youth ! Verily, in those times
money was money. Minuets and sometimes country dances
belonged to polite circles ; '* among the lower orders hipsesaw
was everything," says Watson in his Annals of Philadelphia.
About the same time of the assemblies appeared the first theatri-
cal performance in Boston, played at a coffee-house — itself a new
institution. The idea was so repugnant to New England notions
that a law was immediately passed which banished the drama
from Massachusetts for a quarter of a century thereafter.

In the middle and southern colonies, out of the Puritan ele-
ment, life was much gayer. To the frequent balls in the southern
cities, the- young ladies from the country, where the roads were
rough, used to ride in on ponies, attended by a black servant,
'' with their hoops and full dress arranged over the saddle fore
and aft like lateen-sails ; and after dancing all night, would ride
home again in the morning." When there was snow, sleighing,
with a dance to follow, was a popular pastime with the young
people, but early hours were always kept. The rough, unpainted
sleigh, capable of carrying thirty persons, was expected to be at
the door about one o'clock in the afternoon. The gentlemen were
clothed in cocked-hats, tied under the chin with a blue cotton
handkerchief, leaving the queue to its own sweet will, a large
camlet cloak, and oversocks which covered the shoes and reached
to the small clothes at the knee. Yarn mittens protected the
hands and a woolen tippet the throat. The ladies were wrapped
in linsey-woolsey cardinals, with hoods which *' were of such am-
ple dimensions that their heads looked like so many beer-casks."
The jingle of one or two cow-bells accompanied them. Arrived
at the place of entertainment, the colored driver tuned his
three-stringed fiddle, the gentlemen appeared in their square-toed
pumps, and the ladies shook off their pattens, displaying little
peak-toed, high-heeled slippers. They danced till eight o'clock,
then hurried back to their homes, " for," says the relator of this
entertainment, " to be abroad after nine o'clock on comroon occa-

LATER COLONIAL TIMES. 11/

sions was a sure sign of moral depravity." The same old gentle-
man, describing in 1828 to a young lady the courtship and wed-
ding of her grandfather in New York, sixty years before, gives
us the following picture : " The lover, after having received per-
mission of her parents, pays his first visit to his beloved. In snuff-
colored coat and small-clothes, cornelian brooch, paste buckles,
lace frill-worked cravat, and heavily pomatumed and powdered
hair, he is ushered into the family presence. On one side of the
fireplace sit a bevy of maiden aunts, knitting. On the other side
is the father, ** stretched at his ease in an arm-chair, in a black cap
instead of his wig, wrapped in a blue gown, with his breeches
unbuttoned at his knees, quietly smoking his pipe. Mrs. B. in a
chintz dress and mob-cap was at his side, engaged in making
patch-work ; whilst the lovely Prudence sat quite erect by her
mamma, with her pincushion and housewife dangling from her
waist, her eyes cast down, and her fingers diligently pricking
themselves instead of her sampler." The young man shows his
affection by keeping at a respectful distance from his sweetheart ;
talks politics with the father, assists the mother in arranging her
party-colored squares, picks up straying balls of yarn for the spin-
sters, and when the bell rings nine gives one shy glance at his
beloved and takes his leave. At the wedding which follows a
succession of visits like the above, the guests mostly come on
foot, for there are no hackney-coaches, and private carriages are
not plentiful. The father of the bride is dressed in full-bottomed
wig, velvet coat and breeches, gold buckles, and waistcoat reach-
ing to the knees ; the mother in plain brocade and snowy cap ; the
parson in " gown, cassock and bands, with a wig that seemed to
consist of a whole unsheared sheepskin — for in 1768 it would have
been rank heresy for a parson to appear at a wedding in simple
black coat and pantaloons." The bride had her hair dressed over
a high cushion and liberally pomatumed and powdered. The
height of this tower was over a foot, and on its summit lay a single
white rose. Her tight-sleeved, low-bodiced white satin dress was
distended at the ankles by an ample hoop, beneath which crept her
high-heeled, peaked and spangled white kid shoes. A lace hand-
kerchief crossed over her bosom was fastened by a large brooch
containing the miniature of her destined husband. The groom
had his hair sleeked back and highly pomatumed, with the queue
so stiff that, having had it dressed the afternoon before, he slept
all night in an arm-chair, that it might not be disturbed. " His

Il8 COLONIAL LIFE.

coat was of a sky-blue silk lined with yellow ; his long vest of
white satin, embroidered with gold lace ; his breeches of the same
material and tied at the knee with pink ribbon." White silk
stockings and pumps, lace wrist-ruffles and frill, the latter pinned
with the miniature of his bride, completed his costume. After
the ceremony every one saluted the bride with a hearty kiss.

From this marriage in comparatively high life, let us invite
ourselves to one in the wilds of Pennsylvania. The parties were
hardy pioneers. A wedding was to them a frolic, which shared
with reaping, log-rolling, and house-building for occasion of social
gathering. The party started early in the morning from the
house of the groom, proceeding in double file on horses decked in
old saddles, old bridles or halters, and pack-saddles, with a bag or
blankets thrown over them ; a rope or string served for a girth.
The jovial company were above all reproach of fashionable
extravagance, for not a store, tailor, or mantua-maker existed
within a hundred miles. Every article of dress was home-made
and forced to do the longest service possible. The gents appeared
in shoe-packs, moccasins, leather breeches, leggins, and linsey hunt-
ing-shirts ; the ladies in linsey petticoats and linsey or linen bed-
gowns, coarse shoes, stockings, handkerchiefs, and, if any, buck-
skin gloves. Fallen trees, interlocked grape-vines and sapiings —
the work of mischief-lovers, friends or foes — often delayed their
progress. Sometimes a party in ambush fired a feu de joie^ when
the ladies shrieked, screamed, and implored help in finest femi-
nine style, while their partners bustled around and offered pro-
tection as valiantly as if they were veritable knights in full steel
armor and bound to do battle to the death for their true lady-
loves. As the party neared the house of the bride, two of the
most chivalrous young men, with an Indian yell, set out full tilt
for the bottle of whiskey which was hung out for the first arrival.
Over logs, brush, and muddy hollows, in a flush of pride and dar-
ing, they galloped on their large-boned, clumsy-footed steeds to
the end of the goal. The prize won, they returned to the party,
giving the first drink to the groom, who passed the bottle around ;
every one, ladies included, joining in the dram. The ceremony
over, dinner was in order. The table, made of a large slab of
timber hewn out with a broad-axe and set on four sticks, was
spread with beef, pork, fowls, and sometimes deer and bear meat.
Wooden bowls and trenchers, a few pewter dishes and plates, some
horn and some pewter spoons, served the company as well as

LATER COLONIAL TIMES.

119

could china or silver. If knives were scarce, they carried always
a substitute in the belts of their hunting-shirts. " After dinner
dancing commenced, and usually lasted till the next morning.
The figures were reels, or square sets and jigs. The commence-
ment was always a square four, which was followed by what
was called jigging it off; none were allowed to steal away to
get a sleep, and if girls got tired, they were expected, for want
of chairs, to sit upon the knees of the gentlemen. At nine or ten
o'clock at night some of the young ladies would steal off with the
bride. That was sometimes to a loft above the dancers, going
there by a ladder ; and such a bride's chamber was floored with

THE OLD-TIME FIRESIDE.

clapboards, lying loose and without nails. Some young men, in
the meantime, stole off the groom to his bride. At a later period,
they sent them up refreshments, of which * black Betty,' so called,
was an essential part, as she stood in their parlance for a bottle of
whiskey." These entertainments sometimes lasted several days,
or until every one was '' fagged out." Happy for the weary set
if, when they were ready for their homeward ride, they found
their property uninjured, for slighted neighbors were sometimes
wont to show their stealthy presence, by cutting off the manes,
foretops or tails of the horses belonging to invited guests.

The prejudices of rank and social precedence brought over

I20 COLONIAL LIFE.

from England did not easily die out, even in New England. The
official dignities there were all monopolized by a few leading fami-
lies, descending often from father to son. And as office now
shared with wealth and high English connections — " which were
to be proud of" — in giving admission to the charmed circle of the
gentry, we may conclude that the public treasury no longer fat-
tened on fines wrung from contumacious candidates. Until
within three years of the time when "all men" were declared to
be '* created free and equal,'' the catalogue of Harvard College —
Yale had just abolished the system — was arranged according to
the social rank of the students. The list, made out each year and
posted in the buttery, bore perpetual testimony to the rule of
caste. In those days a young man's title to a superior room, or
speedy attention at table, depended on the date of his father's
commission as justice of the peace or some kindred petty sign of
social degree. We can afford to laugh at it now as an excellent
burlesque on the English custom of ranking by pedigree, but it was
a sore reality then, as many an unlucky fellow proved. Fashion
seems also to have invaded that scholastic sanctum, and to have
divided popular attention with the sublimities of Horace and
Homer. In 1754, the "overseers" of the college recommended
the corporation to prohibit the wearing of " gold anr^ silver lace
or brocade " by students. Indeed, it is very apparent that the
day of the plainest, ugliest cuts for all male apparel had nowhere
yet dawned.

The early part of the eighteenth century was particularly
characterized by high colors in dress. In 1724, a runaway barber
is advertised. "He wore a light wig, a gray kersey jacket lined
with blue, a light pair of drugget breeches, black roll-up stock-
ings, square-toed shoes, a red leathern apron, and white vest with
yellow buttons and red linings!" About the same time a lady,
afflicted with the tender passion, thus bursts out in verse describ-
ing the costume of her beloved :

" Mine, a tall youth shall at a ball be seen.
Whose legs are like the spring, all clothed in green ;
A yellow riband ties his long cravat,
And a large knot of yellow cocks his hat !"

The colonial gentry, in their morning negligee, were wont to
appear in elegant silk and velvet caps and dressing gowns,
exchanging them when they went out for hats and cloaks which

LATER COLONIAL TIMES. 121

glittered with broad gold lace. The evening drawing-room was
enlivened by embroidered garments of flowered silk and velvet in
blue, green, scarlet, or purple hues, adorned with gold lace, silver
knee-buckles, and silver coat, vest, and breeches buttons. These
buttons bore sometimes the initial of the wearer, but were often
made of real quarter-dollars and eleven-penny bits, the former
being used for the coats and the latter for vests and breeches.
The other gentlemanly ornaments consisted of gold or silver
sleeve-buttons, silver stock-buckle, and, perhaps, a shagreen-
cased watch of tortoise-shell or pinchbeck, with a silver or steel
chain and seal. The best gentlemen of the country were content
with silver watches, although gold ones were occasionally used.
Gold chains would have been a wonder. It was so rare to find
watches in common use that it was quite an annoyance at the
watchmaker's to be so repeatedly called on by street-passengers
for the hour of the day. Wide laced ruffles, falling over the
hand, a gold or silver snuff-box, and a gold-headed cane were con-
sidered indispensable to gentility. A well-bred gentleman of
1776, arrayed in his stately suit of ceremony, moved with a court-
liness and certain gravity of manner upon which we have hardly
improved in our day of cultivated French nonchalance. It is
not to be supposed, however, that any but an exceedingly small
minority dressed in silks and velvets.

Broadcloth in winter and silk camlet in summer were popular
in wealthy circles — coat and breeches of the same material.
In 1738, Benjamin Franklin advertises for clothes stolen from
his wardrobe, among which we find : " Broadcloth breeches lined
with leather^ sagathee coat lined with silk, and fine homespun linen
shirts." Vests were made with great depending pocket-flaps,
and breeches were short above the stride, suspenders being yet
an unknown luxury. Working-men wore their breeches very
full and free in girth, so that, when they became prematurely
thin in the seat, they could be changed from front to rear.
Worsted everlasting and buckskin were in great demand, espe-
cially for breeches, and common people were content with
leather, homespun, and various heavy wools for winter. Bear-
skin coats and little woolen muffs of various colors, called
muftees, were worn by men in severe weather. Homespun
linens and other light stuffs, coarse and fine, served for summer.
Boots had not yet come in use, but every thrifty householder kept
on hand whole calf-skins and sides of stout sole-leather to be

122 COLONIAL LIFE.

made into shoes as required. ** Before the Revolution no hired
men or women wore any shoes so fine as calf-skin ; that kind was
the exclusive property of the gentry ; the servants wore coarse
neat's leather." Mechanics, workingmen, and ** country people
attending markets " were universally clothed in red or green baize
vests, striped ticking or leather breeches, and a leathern apron. On
Sundays or holidays, a white shirt was substituted for the checked
or speckled one, the deerskin breeches — greasy and stubbornly
stiff with long wear, and only rendered supple by the warmth of
the owner's limbs — were blacked or buft up, the coarse blue yarn
stockings and well-greased shoes set off by a pair of large brass
buckles, and the apprentice was at his best. Hired women wore
short gowns of green baize and petticoats of linsey-woolsey, and
were happy with wages of fifty cents a week. Until after the
Revolution the dress of working-people and domestics was dis-
tinct from that of the higher classes.

Wigs went out of style about twenty years before the Revolu-
tion, following the lead of George II. and the British officers in
this country. Previous to that, their use was universal, and as
human hair could not be obtained in sufficient quantity, horse
and goat hair " in choice parcels " were freely advertised for this
purpose. Gray wigs were powdered, the barber performing that
office on his block-head. After wigs, queues and frizzled side-
locks had their day. Sometimes the hair was confined in a black
silk sack or bag, adorned with a large black rose. The three-
cornered or cocked hat of pre-Revolutionary times is familiar to
every one.

Umbrellas were not known before the middle ot the century.
The first used were made of oiled linen, very coarse and clumsy,
with rattan sticks. Previous to that the gentlemen wore " rain-
coats " and *' roquelaus " — a large oiled linen cape ; ladies wore
** camblets," and sometimes carried " quintasols " — a small article
something like a parasol, imported from India. They were of
oiled muslin in various colors. When umbrellas were first used
as a protection from the sun, great ridicule was made of the idea.
Ladies, as a preservative of their complexion, sometimes wore
black velvet masks in winter and green ones in the summer, keep-
ing them on by means of a silver mouthpiece. Veils were un-
known, except in crape as a badge of mourning.

Woman's extravagance was then, as it is now, a juicy topic for
grumblers, and an English traveler relates how the Boston ladies

LATER COLONIAL TIMES. 1 23

" indulge every little piece of gentility to the height of the mode,
and neglect the affairs of their families with as good grace as the
finest ladies in London." The practical satirists of the day had
their own little jokes, and drove out some of the most offensive
fashions by novel expedients. The loose dress called a trollopee
being distasteful to them, they dressed the wife of the public hang-
man of Philadelphia in one, and she paraded the streets in full cos-
tume, mincing and strutting to the sound of burlesque music.
Trollopees straightway became obsolete. The long red cloaks
were quickly stripped from the shoulders of the ladies of the same
city after a depraved female criminal had been hung, clothed in a
scarlet mantle of the most approved style. The ''tower" head-
dress, which had been petted to a ridiculous extreme, was effec-
tually caricatured by a tall man, dre;ised in the latest feminine
mode, and wearing a " tower " of colossal proportions, who made
the tour of the city streets, preceded by a drum. No one but the
dear creatures themselves guessed how much torture our great-
grandmothers endured in the building up of a proper coiffure. In
towns where there were a limited number of hair-dressers, and a
grand party was in contemplation, it was no uncommon occur-
rence for ladies to have their hair frizzed and curled — an opera-
tion which required three or four hours in the hands of a skillful
barber — the day before, and then to sit up all night to prevent its
derangement ! It was a great relief when cushions and arti-
ficial curled work came in, which could be sent out to the barber's-
block and save the agony of personal attendance. The fashion-
able caps a hundred years ago were the " Queen's Nightcap," the
style always worn by Mrs. Washington, and the ** cushion head-
dress," made of gauze stiffened out in cylindrical form with white
spiral wire, and having a border called the ''balcony." A cap
was indispensable in those days. Bare heads were quite out of
character. Even the boys wore wigs like their fathers, and little
girls caps like their mothers. The " musk-melon bonnet " had the
crown shirred with whalebone stiffeners, and was in vogue just
before the Revolution. It was followed by the " whalebone bon-
net," which was shirred only in front. Bonnets were bonnets in
those days, veritable sun umbrellas, tied down at the chin. The
*' calash " was always made of green silk, so arranged that, when
the wearer desired, it could be made to fall back on the neck and
shoulders in folds like the cover of a buggy. To keep it up over
the head, it was drawn by a cord held in the hand of the wearer.

124 COLONIAL LIFE.

A modification of this fashion has been revived once or twice
during the last half century. Satin, a favorite material for even-
ing robes, was admirably suited to the stately manners of the gen-
tlewomen of the day. Brocades and mantuas also shared the
public favor. At one time gowns were worn without fronts, dis-
playing a finely-quilted Marseilles, silk or satin petticoat, and a
worked stomacher on the waist. Chintz for summer, and some
sort of worsted for winter, were worn at home, and " thought
dress enough for common days " in the best society. Kerchiefs
and aprons were as necessary as caps, and ranged in material
from the finest of linen cambric, gauze, and taffeta, monopolized
by the rich gentry, to the coarsest of checks, homespun, and tow^
worn by the mass of the people. Before the invention of the spin-
ning-jenny in 1767, pure cotton home fabrics were unknown, the
homespun threads being too irregular to be of use except as a
woof, and the supply being also very limited. The first cotton
exported from the United States to England was sent in 1785, the
ship taking but one bag. Hose were made of thread or silk in
summer, and fine or coarse worsted in winter. Short gowns and
long gowns are familiar names in our grandmothers' wardrobes,
from the common linsey-woolseys to the stiff large-flowered bro-
cades and satins, which we still love to produce as relics from
old-fashioned chests which smell of camphor and cedar. The
names of those old stuffs, of calamanco and durant and groset, of
russet and wilton and tabby, of tandem and gulix and huckaback,,
sound strangely now to the young American girl, who would be
astonished to find that some of them were at least first cousins to
fabrics which, somewhat refined, shine in the present market under
high-sounding French titles. Somewhat less intelligible still is
the following list of articles, dress materials, etc., taken from a
Philadelphia advertisement of 1745 : '' Quilted humhums, turket-
tees, grassetts, single allopeens, allibanies, florettas, dickmansoy,.
cushloes, chuckloes, cuttanees, crimson dannador, chained soo-
$oos, lemonees, barragons, byrampauts, naffermamy, and saxling-
ham"!

Although the majority of houses were still humbly and spar-
ingly furnished, yet comforts had greatly increased during the
growing prosperity of the colonies, and a few really elegant homes
were found in every city of importance, belonging mostly to the
traveled gentry, whose property had come by descent. About
the close of colonial times we hear of one house in Boston which

LATER COLONIAL TIMES.

125

ANCIENT CHAIR.

(Brought over in the Mayflower.)

had cost three thousand pounds, and of another whose furni-
ture was worth one thousand pounds. Large mirrors, marble
tables, and Turkey carpets figured in
fine stone mansions. Elaborate carv-
ings were seen on massive balustrades
in spacious halls, and the parlor walls
were sometimes adorned with painted
leather hangings. Deep paneled wain-
scots and carved cornices and mantles
added to the solid elegance of these
handsome dwellings. Crimson leather
furnished a dignified upholstery to the
straight high-backed mahogany chairs
and sofas, while heavy damask curtains
steadied the glitter from ponderous
brass andirons and brass clock. There
were a few private libraries of consid-
erable size, but books were not plenti-
ful, though well-selected and read with
care. People bought an outfit of books as of furniture, expect-
ing it to last a lifetime. Fielding, the father of English novelists,
supplied the little that was desired of racy fiction. Smollett
had just translated Gil Bias, and that, with the ever-delight-
ful Don Quixote, kept up their sense of humor. The Vicar
of Wakefield, nevAy out, was read till young and old had it
almost by heart. Addison's Spectator and Johnson's Rambler
were models for correct style. Shakespeare and Milton and Young
were studied until their expressions were as familiar as thought ;
while a careful perusal of Blackstone's Commentaries and Mon-
tesquieu's Spirit of Laws was necessary to every gentleman who
sought to be well-read. Everything, both in books and in furni-
ture, was solid. Shams had not yet made their advent, and there
were no veneered woods, no silver-plated wares. What would
those straightforward, substantial New Englanders have thought
of our day of dime novels and of shoddy ?

But it was in the country towns, where the prim Puritan ele-
ment had not been softened by recent English innovations, that
one saw real New England life. White sanded floors, with
unpainted pine settles, scoured to the last degree of whiteness ;
maple, rush-bottomed chairs set squarely back against the white-
washed walls; lofty clock-cases reaching to the ceiling; glass-

126

COLONIAL LIFE.

doored corner closets wherein the china and silver — family treas-
Yires — were arranged at pure right angles ; high chests of drawers
filled with stores of household linen, packed squarely in ; — every-
where an immutable regularity, angularity, and precision. Upon
the walls, the little looking-glasses in two plates were framed with
scalloped wood, and black mouldings set off the quaint, stiff
bunches of flowers painted on glass or worked on satin — testimo-
nies to fashionable accomplishment. Shining brass and copper
candlesticks, ready to receive the tallow candles which had been
snugly packed from the last dipping, were turned up on their
large round base upon the wooden shelf. Fixed rules governed
the arrangement of each article of furniture, and were as consci-
entiously observed as were those which decided the proprieties
of manner. Everything was stiff, uncompromising, and sedate —
everything, except the dancing fiames in the open fireplaces
which laughed at their own incongruous, frolicking reflections —
the one freedom amid perpetual restraint. In the chambers, high,
four-posted bedsteads kept guard over the same immaculate
order. Their hangings and valances in the handsomest houses
were sometimes of silk in summer and heavy damask in winter.
More commonly, however, they were of snowy dimity, or of blue

and white stuff like the
coverlets. Sheets of home-
spun, blankets of home-
made flannel, quilts of
various hues — marvels
of industry, and narrow,
downy pillows above the
soft bolster, completed the
equipments. The thrift of
the New England house-
wife reveled in crowded
drawers of bed and table
linen, which she worked
early and late to produce.
" She layeth her. hands to
the spindle and her hands
hold the distaff" was an
emphatic record of her daily life. The two wheels, one small
and worked by the foot for spinning linen thread, and the other
large and turned by the hand for woolen yarn, were honored articles

THE WOOLEN SPINNING-WHEEL.

LATER COLONIAL TIMES. 12/

in every household. No less were her kitchen and larder a pride.
The shining lines of pewter along the ample dresser, the painfully
scoured floor and white pine furniture, the rows of jams and mar-
malades, the strings of dried pumpkin and apples, the casks and
bottles of cider, metheglin, and anise-seed cordial, all attested her
careful forethought. In many houses a china or silver bowl of
rum punch stood in the hall, a hospitable invitation to every guest,
who all drank from the same dish. Flip and toddy were com-
mon drinks, and a moderate use of the flowing bowl seems to
have been almost universal. But woe to the man who overstepped
the subtle line which divides the drinker from the drunkard.
His name, posted in every alehouse — the keepers of which them-
selves were required to be of ** good character " and " property-
holders " — shut him out forever from further lawful tippling.
Just before the Revolution, a unique punishment was in vogue
in New York for drunkards. It consisted of " three quarts of
warm water and salt enough to operate as an emetic, with a por-
tion of /a7np oi/ to act as a purge." In 1772, a negro, found drunk
and sent to Bridewell, died after enduring his sentence.

If one were to tell all the curious local customs which pre-
vailed here and there over the colonies, it would read spicily
enough. Here is a choice dish : " The height of the fashion was
to put into the kettle of chocolate several links of sausages, and,
after boiling all together, to serve the guests with a bowl of
chocolate and sausage. The latter was cut up, and the mess
eaten with a spoon." When tea first came in use, it was boiled in
an iron kettle and strained ; the leaves were well buttered, and the
clear liquid was drunk " to wash down the greens." A dish
called whistle-belly-vengeance was made by simmering the sour
household brewed beer in a brass kettle, with crumbled crusts of
brown bread, adding a little molasses. It was served hot.

Yet, without carpets, gas, or other " modern improvements,"
taking their long journeys over rough roads in lumbering coaches
or on horse, cooking by open fireplaces, and spinning and weaving
all needful articles for use or wear by slow hand labor, our pre-
Revolutionary fathers and mothers extracted, doubtless, quite
as much comfort from life as their more luxurious descendants.
The old-time physician did not neglect his patients though he
always made his calls on foot, and never ventured to charge more
than two shillings for each visit ; while fair ladies bustled through
the muddy streets in pattens and galoshes, and deemed it no

128 COLONIAL LIFE.

great hardship to sit out a round hour sermon with only the little
tin or wooden foot-stove under their feet to temper the winter
chill of the meeting-house which had never known a fire. When
the frosts lay heavy on lake and river, came the festivities of
skating, and the great ox was roasted on the thick-ribbed ice.
With spring came May-day, still kept up in many parts with true
Old England merriment. For ball and party invitations, since
blank cards were yet unknown, the back of a common playing-
card served as well as anything else ; why not ? No opportunity
for promiscuous flirting or coquetry then, when a partner was
engaged for the whole evening, each couple being expected to
drink tea together on the following afternoon.

We turn again to the sunny South, seeking repose in a Vir-
ginia planter's luxurious home. We have seen how these spacious
mansions were situated, dotting at long intervals the bank of
some lovely river. Free, generous, a prince in hospitality, the
southern gentleman kept open-house to all respectable strangers
who might seek food or lodging. " The doors of citizens," says a
southern writer, ** are opened to all decent travelers and shut
against none. Innkeepers complain that this is carried to such an
extent that their business is scarcely worth following. The
abundance of provisions on plantations renders the exercise of
this virtue not inconvenient, and the avidity of country people
for hearing news makes them rather seek than shun the calls of
strangers. The State may be traveled over with very little
expense by persons furnished with letters of introduction, or even
without them by calling at the plantations of private gentlemen
on or near the roads." It was a delightful termination to a day
of weary journeying when the bridle was loosed before one
of these inviting country homes and the gentlemanly host
uttered his courteous welcome. Over the low verandas and
balconies climbed, in wanton luxuriance, the yellow jasmine, sweet
honeysuckle, or the trumpet flower; the soft air was fragrant
with the breath of scented shrubs which sprang from warm, moist
earth ; everywhere was an atmosphere of delicious languor.
Within the dwelling was the same air of repose. The music of
the harpsichord was oftener heard than the hum of the spinning-
wheel, though the southern matron had, too, her own peculiar
round of duties. Black slaves performed all the domestic labors,
it is true ; but the heart of the kind mistress was mindful of the
wants of her large and, in many respects, dependent household,

LATER COLONIAL TIMES. 1 29

in which she found sufficient employ. Her articles of luxury and
many of her comforts were brought direct from England. Ships
from Liverpool sailed up the river and delivered at the private
wharf of the wealthy planter the goods of fashionable attire or
household elegance which he had ordered from England, receiv-
ing in return the tobacco sowed, gathered, and packed by the
negroes on the plantation. Along the Potomac many of the plant-
ers had beautiful barges imported from England, which were rowed
by negroes in uniform. When they traveled on horseback, they
were attended by their black servants in livery. The ladies often
took their airing in a chariot and four, with liveried black postil-
lions. A short distance from the family residence stood the kit-
chen, which, like the laundry, was always separate from the
mansion. From its large, open fireplace, presided over by some
ancient Dinah or Chloe in gorgeous red or yellow turban, came
savory dishes of sweet bacon, wild-fowl, or game. Hot biscuit
were served at every meal, and no breakfast was complete with-
out a plate of delicious *' hoe-cakes " — cakes made of Indian meal
and baked before the fire, which are as naturally associated with
the southern table as pumpkin-pies with the New England board
or doughnuts with the Dutch. Conveniently retired, might be
found the negro quarters ; a cluster of wooden cabins each with
its own little garden and poultry yard, and with swarms of
black babies, pickaninnies, gambolling in the sunshine. The south-
ern planter, like the roving Merovingian kings of France, had
artificers of all kinds in his retinue of servants: tailors, shoe-
makers, carpenters, smiths, and so on through all the needful
trades of ordinary life. There w«-^ample stables for the blooded
horses, and kennels for the hounds, for the chase was a favorite
diversion. Washington was passionately fond of it, and the
names of his fox -hounds — Vulcan, Singer, Sweetlips, Music,
Truelove, etc. — were carefully registered in his household books,
the character of some of them giving us a faint hint of an under-
current of sentiment, which in his grave dignity he seldom
revealed. On his beautiful Mount Vernon estate, that wonderful
man, as careful a proprietor as he was brave general and accom-
plished gentleman, so watched over his exports that they became
noted as always reliable, and it was said that any barrel of flour
bearing his brand passed into West India ports without inspec-
tion.

Washington's early friend and patron, Lord Thomas Fairfax,
9

I30

COLONIAL LIFE.

possessed one of the largest estates in America. His mansion house,
called Greenway Court, in the Shenandoah Valley, was the scene
of many brilliant festivities. He was an ardent loyalist, and when
he heard of the surrender of Cornwallis, it is related that he said
to his servant, " Come, Joe, carry me to bed, for it is high time for
me to die.'' Nor did he long survive that event. His immense
lands, valued at ninety-eight thousand pounds, were confiscated to
the Union. They embraced five million two hundred and eighty-
two thousand acres, including everything between the Potomac
and the Rappahannock. When we read of one person enjoying
the title-claim to an extent of territory covering all the present
counties of Lancaster, Northumberland, Richmond, Westmore-
land, Stafford, King George, Prince William, Fairfax, Loudon,
Fauquier, Culpepper, Clarke, Madison, Page, Shenandoah, Hardy,
Hampshire, Morgan, Berkeley, Jefferson, and Frederick — twenty-
one in all — we do not wonder that in those times common people
made bitter complaint that all Virginia was in the hands of a few
owners.

FIELD-SPORTS OF THE SOUTH — FOX-HUNTING.

PART II.

M W^ ^ % feti^Itifen.

•* Over the hill-sides the wila knell is tolling.
From their far hamlets the yeomanry come ;
As through the storm-clotuis the thunder-burst rollings
Circles the beat of the mustering drum.
Fast on the soldiers path
Darken the waves of wrath.
Long have they gathered, and loud shall they fall ;
Red glares the muskefs flash.
Sharp rings the rifle's crash,
Blazing and clanging from thicket and wall" — HOLMES.

CHAPTER I.

JLIEJ^ATIOJJ OF THE COLOJ^IES.

HE scattered settlements along
the Atlantic grew into a nation
as naturally as infancy matures
into manhood. The whole his-
tory of the colonies pointed an
index hand to Lexington and
Bunker Hill. The Declaration of Independence was but the
normal outgrowth of the contract signed by the Pilgrims in Cape
Cod Harbor a little over a century and a half before. The so-
called "■ Causes of the Revolution " only served to develop that
which had its root in the very nature of things. This country
was settled by men who fled from persecution at home, and
America to them meant liberty above all things else. Free-
dom was their birthright, and they had studied its principles
thoroughly. To provoke such men by injustice, was to shake
rudely every tie which bound them to the mother country. Just
this England did, wantonly and continually.

134 ALIENATION OF THE COLONIES. [1750.

The royal governors often carried matters with a high hand.
There were attempts made to take away the charters of Massa-
chusetts, Rhode Island, and Connecticut. There were sugges-
tions of creating a provincial peerage and of giving the Estab-
lished Church the precedence in all the colonies. In the army, a
''regular" captain outranked a ''provincial" colonel. Every
effort was made to keep the colonies dependent, and to favor the
British manufacturer and merchant. Even Pitt, the friend of
America, asserted that the colonists had " no right to manufac-
ture a nail for a horse-shoe." Commerce and manufactures were

\ bound hand and foot. In 1750, the Americans were forbidden to
send pig-iron to England and to make steel or bar iron for home
use. Iron-works were declared " common nuisances." The expor-
tation of hats from one colony to another was prohibited, and no
hatter was allowed to have more than two apprentices at one
time, as the colonists, if let alone, " would supply all the world
with hats." The importation of sugar, rum and molasses was bur-

. dened with exorbitant duties ; and the Carolinians were forbidden
to cut down the pine-trees of their vast forests, in order to con-
vert the wood into staves, or the juice into turpentine and tar, for
commercial purposes. England, says Sabine, forbade the use of

<rwaterfalls, the erection of machinery, looms and spindles, and
the working of wood and iron ; set the king's broad arrow upon
trees in the forest ; shut out markets for boards and fish ; seized
sugar and molasses, and the vessels in which they were carried ;
required an American vessel wrecked on the Irish coast to first
send its goods destined for an Irish market to England, and then
have them brought back to Ireland in an English vessel ; and at-
tempted to define the limitless ocean to be but a narrow pathway
to such lands as bore the British flag. Such odious laws drove
men to their violation. It was the only hope of trade. Smug-
gling became so compion that it is said of the one and a half
million dollars worth of tea used annually in the colonies,
scarcely any had paid duty. Not one chest out of five hundred
landed in Boston was regularly entered. A considerable part of
Hancock's fortune inherited from his uncle was made by smug-
gling tea in molasses hogsheads ; and at the breaking out of the
Revolution, the crown had sued Hancock himself to recover
penalties for violations of revenue laws to the amount of half a
million dollars.

The home government had incurred heavy expenses during

3761.]

WRITS OF ASSISTANCE.

135

the old French and Indian war. George III. was now king.
Pitt, who was almost idolized in America, was dismissed, and the
monarch, following incompetent ministers like Bute, Grenville,
and Townshend, stupidly and wantonly drove on the colonists to
revolt. It was determined to make
the rich and thriving, young colo-
nies contribute to the payment
of the debt. The colonists were
not represented in parliament, and
they declared the principle that

V Taxation without represen-
tation IS tyranny."

Step by step the struggle now
went on. In 1761, strict orders
were received
by the revenue
officers to en-
force the obnox-
ious laws against
trade. Warrants,
or writs of assist-
ance, as they
were called, were

-^ issued, authoriz-
ing these per-
sons to search for

smuggled goods. With such a pretext, any petty custom-house
official could ransack a man's house or store at his pleasure. The
colonists held the Englishman's maxim, that *' every m.an's house
is his castle." The royal collectors were accordingly resisted
from one end of the country to the other. At the General Court
in Boston, James Otis, without fear or fee, eloquently withstood
the issuing of such warrants. ** To my dying day," said he, ^' I will
oppose, with all the powers and faculties God has given me, all
such instruments of slavery on the one hand and villainy on the
other." '' Then and there," wrote John Adams, "the trumpet of
the Revolution was sounded."

From that time, in his indignation, Adams could "never read
the acts of trade without a curse." In 1764, parliament distinctly
declared its " right to tax America." Colony after colony entered
its solemn protest; but in vain. In 1765, the Stamp Act was

WILLIAM PITT, EARL OF CHATHAM.

136

ALIENATION OF THE COLONIES.

[1765.

passed. This ordered that no legal document was valid unless it
bore a British stamp costing from three pence to six pounds ; that
every newspaper and pamphlet should bear a stamp worth from a
halfpenny to four pence ; and that each advertisement should pay
a duty of two shillings.

The ministers were authorized to send troops to America, and,
by a clause in the Mutiny Act, it was ordered that the colonista
^should provide the soldiers
with quarters and necessary
supplies. America was not
only to be taxed but to be
made to house and feed its
oppressors. The assembly of

Virginia was in session when
these obnoxious laws were an-
nounced. Patrick Henry, a
young lawyer, the youngest
member of the house, quickly
drew upon the blank leaf of an
old law-book a series of resolutions denying the right of parlia-
ment to tax America. He supported these in a strain of burning
patriotism, declaring, " Csesar had his Brutus, Charles I. his Crom-

PATRICK HENRY ADDRESSING THE VIRGINIA ASSEMBLY.

1765.] THE MUTINY ACT. 1 3/

well, and George III." — here pausing till the cry of ''Treason!
Treason !" from several parts of the house had subsided, he delib-
erately added — '' may profit by their examples. If this be trea-
son, make the most of it." '' The sun of liberty is set," wrote
Franklin ; '' the Americans must light the lamps of industry and
economy." " Be assured," was the reply of Colonel Thomson,
" we shall light lamps of a very different character."

The tide of opposition everywhere ran high, and even some-
times overflowed the barriers of law and order. The houses of
British officials were mobbed. The opponents of the tax met on
Boston Common under a large elm, famous as the " liberty tree."
Associations were formed which took the name of " Sons of
Liberty," a phrase used by Colonel Barre in a powerful speech,
now familiar to every school-boy, delivered in parliament in
defence of the colonies. At Portsmouth, N. H., a coffin inscribed
" Liberty, aged CXLV years," was borne to an open grave.
With muffled drums and solemn tread, the procession moved from
the State House. Minute-guns were fired till the grave was
reached, when a funeral oration was pronounced and the coffin
lowered. Suddenly it was proclaimed that there were signs of
life. The coffin was raised. A new inscription, " Liberty
Revived," was appended. Bells rung, trumpets sounded, men
shouted, and a jubilee ensued. Stamps were everywhere seized,
and the agents were forced to resign. The people agreed not to
use any article of British manufacture. Trade with England
almost ceased. The women entered heartily into the struggle^
and the newspapers of the day are full of their patriotic doings.
They formed associations called '' Daughters of Liberty," and
spun and wove with renewed vigor, determined to prove them-
selves independent of the mother-country. *' Within eighteen
months," wrote a gentleman at Newport, Rhode Island, '' four
hundred and eighty -seven yards of cloth and thirty-six pairs of
stockings have been spun and knit in the family of James Nixon
of this town." In Newport and Boston the women, at their tea-
drinkings, used, instead of imported tea, the dried leaves of the
raspberry, which they called Hyperion. The feeling spread to
every condition of life. The very children in the streets caught
up the cry, " Liberty and property forever ! No stamps."

In North Carolina John Ashe, speaker of the Assembly, declared
to Governor Tryon, " This law will be resisted to blood and
to death." When the sloop-of-war Diligence anchored in Cape

138

ALIENATION OF THE COLONIES.

[1765.

Fear harbor with a supply of stamped
paper for the use of the colony, the
crowd, headed by Colonels Ashe
and Waddell, prohibited the terri-
fied captain from land-
ing his cargo. Thence
they marched to the
governor's palace at
Wilmington and
threatened to burn it
over his head unless
he gave up the stamp-
master, whom they
forced to swear not to
discharge the duties
of his office.

Massachusetts sug-
gested a convention
to be held at New
York in October. The
call was en-

dorsed by
South Car-
olina, and
delegates
met from

nine colonies.
They proposed
a declaration of
rights, and me-
morials to the
king and parlia-
ment. The first
of November, the
time appointed for
the law to go into
effect, was ob-
served as a day of mourning. Bells
were tolled, flags were raised at half-
mast, and business was suspended.
Samuel and John Adams, Patrick

BENJAMIN FRANKLIN.

1766.] REPEAL OF THE STAMP ACT. 1 39

Henry, and James Otis aroused the people over the whole land
by their stirring and patriotic speeches.

In February, 1766, Benjamin Franklin, then in England as
agent for Pennsylvania, was called before the bar of the House
of Commons and questioned concerning the condition of the
colonies. His firm and decisive answers greatly impressed the
officers of the crown. The English government, finding that the
Stamp Act could not be executed, except by force of arms, at last
repealed it. The news was received in America with transports
of joy. Addresses of thanks were voted to the king and distin-
guished statesmen, such as Camden, Pitt, and Barre. At Boston,
Faneuil Hall was adorned with full-length pictures of the latter
two friends of America. The debtors were released from jail, and
what with fireworks, public entertainments, music, and parades,
the day was one of the happiest ever seen. The " home feeling "
toward England was restored and trade resumed.

But the cloud soon settled again. The government still
declared its right to inflict taxation on the colonies. Duties were
imposed on tea, glass, paper, etc., and a Board of Trade was V
established at Boston, to act independently of the colonial assem-
blies. The press and the pulpit at once sounded the alarm. The
non-importation agreement was revived with greater stringency.
The New York assembly, refusing to quarter English troops at
the colonial expense, was suspended from all legislative acts.
The Massachusetts assembly having sent a circular to the other
colonies urging a union for redress of grievances, parliament,
in the name of the king, ordered it to rescind its action. It
almost unanimously refused. In the meantime the assemblies of^
nearly all the colonies had declared that parliament had no right
to tax them without their consent. Hereupon they were warned
not to imitate the disobedient conduct of Massachusetts.

New events constantly occurred to keep up the excitement.
The commissioners of customs seized a sloop laden with wine,
because the owner, John Hancock, refused to pay duty upon it ;
but the mob falling upon them, they were glad to take refuge in
Castle William. Boston being considered the hotbed of the
rebellion, General Gage ordered thither two regiments of troops.
They entered on a quiet Sunday morning, and marched as
through a conquered city, with drums beating and flags flying.
All the prejudices of a peaceful. Sabbath-loving, liberty-sworn
people were thus aroused. Quarters being refused, the soldiers

I40

ALIENATION OF THE COLONIES.

[1770.

took possession of the State House. The Common was soon
covered with tents. Cannon were planted, sentries posted, and
citizens challenged ; while the harbor was occupied by a fleet of
vessels.

An obsolete law of the time of Henry VIH. was revived, and
the governor of Massachusetts ordered to send the persons con-
cerned in the late disturbance to England for trial. This high-
handed measure was bitterly opposed by a minority in the House
of Commons, Burke exclaiming, *' Can you not trust the juries
of that country ? If you have not a party among two millions
of people, you must either change your plans of government
or renounce the colonies forever."

The presence of the soldiers in Boston was a constant aggra-
vation, and the people did ' their utmost to render their stay
uncomfortable. The city committee persuaded the farmers to
sell them nothing but the provisions necessary for their existence ;
straw, timber, boards, and other articles were purposely withheld
from their market. Articles purchased by the agents of govern-
ment encountered mysterious accidents; straw took fire and
burned ; vessels with bricks sunk ; wood-carts overturned, and,
in short, the vexations of life were multiplied upon them.

Frequent quarrels took place between the people and the
"red-coats." One day (March 5, 1770) a crowd of men and boys,
maddened by their presence, insulted the city guard. A fight
ensued. Several citizens were wounded and three killed. The

bells were rung. The country people
rushedin to the help of the city. Quiet
was with difficulty restored. But the
snow in King Street was purple, and
" that stain, though it melted away in
the next day's sun, was never forgot-
ten nor forgiven." In the morning
Faneuil Hall was filled with an indig-
nant crowd. The immediate removal
of the troops was demanded. The
government was forced to yield, and
to order the soldiers out of the city to
Castle William. The citizens slain in
the brawl were buried with solemn pageantry, and apotheosized
as the first martyrs to liberty. The story of the " Boston Mas-
sacre," as it was called, became a tale of horror. The fact that

FANEUIL HALL.

1771.] THE BOSTON MASSACRE. I4I

the soldiers fired in self-defence against an excited mob was
ignored, and the hate of foreign domination was intensified by
details of what was spread as an unprovoked assault upon quiet
and defenceless citizens.

The guard which had fired on the mob were tried for murder.
The result was a beautiful triumph of law and order over popular
prejudice. The defence was conducted by John Adams and
James Otis. In spite of the universal agitation, all were acquitted
except two, who were convicted of manslaughter only. These
were branded in the hand in open court and discharged. This
fair and honorable trial exhibited the temper of the people and
the uselessness of reviving an ancient statute in order to secure
justice.

In North Carolina the insolence shown in the notorious
embezzlements of the royal oificers aroused open rebellion. The
governor, who was himself squandering the funds in building a
palace, stated in an official paper that the '' sheriffs had purloined
more than half the public moneys." In this province the revenue
was raised by a poll-tax, so that the richest merchant paid no
more than the poorest laborer. The officers often levied four-
times the lawful tax. The courts refused the distressed people
their rights. Money was scarce ; wheat brought only one shilling
per bushel, and that after being hauled fifty or a hundred miles to
market. Under such circumstances the taxes became simply
unendurable. At last, as the only means of obtaining justice, an
association of regulators was formed for the avowed purpose of
redressing the grievances of the country. Governor Tryon,
however, marched against them, defeated them at Alamance
Creek (May 16, 1771), and left three hundred of their number
dead on the field. Six were afterward hanged. The governor
and his satellites took possession of such of their estates as they
desired. Not a few of the hardy backwoodsmen fled to the
wilderness and obtained lands of the Cherokees, where they laid
the foundation of the State of Tennessee. The regulators were
subdued, though a bitter hatred of British rule was engendered.

In 1772, the Gaspee, a British revenue schooner, while chasing
a vessel, ran aground. The opportunity was too good to be lost.
That night a party from Providence boarded and set her on fire.

The English government was greatly alarmed by the steady
determination evinced by the colonies. The merchants, whose
goods lay unsold in their warehouses, offered to pay the govern-

142 ALIENATION OF THE COLONIES. [1773.

THE REGULATORS THREATENING GOVERNOR TRYON.

ment the entire amount expected to be realized from the duties.
Finally, all were rescinded except that on tea, which was left
merely to maintain the right of taxation. With a curious mis-
apprehension of the American spirit, an arrangement was made
with the India Company whereby this could be furnished at a
cheaper rate in America than in England. The subterfuge only
exasperated the patriots. They were fighting for a great princi-
ple, not against a paltry tax.

At Charleston the tea was stored in damp cellars, where it
soon spoiled. The tea-ships at New York and Philadelphia were
sent home. The British authorities at Boston refused to let the
vessels loaded with tea return. Upon this, an immense public
meeting was held at Faneuil Hall. Speeches were made by
Quincy, Adams and others. It was resolved that the tea should
never be landed. That evening (December i6, 1773), memorable
in American history, a party of men disguised as Indians boarded
the vessels and emptied three hundred and forty-two chests of
tea into the water. The dock was crowded with people who
looked on with joy. When the work was done they quietly
dispersed. As the party passed by a house where Admiral
Montague was visiting, he raised a window and called out,
*' Well, boys, you've had a fine night for your Indian caper. But,
remember, you've got to pay the fiddler yet." " Oh, never
mind," replied one of the leaders, " never mind, squire ! Just
come out here, if you please, and we'll settle the bill in two
minutes." But the Admiral declined to come out ; and to ** settle
the bill " took seven years of bloody war, thousands of lives, and
millions of money.

17T4.] MEETING OF THE CONTINENTAL CONGRESS. I43

The issue was now fairly made. "The king, his ministers,
parliament, and all Great Britain set themselves to subdue this
one stubborn little town on the sterile coast of Massachusetts Bay."
The odds were terrible. But in resolute little Boston there were
a town hall, free schools, free presses, and free pulpits. There
was a government of the people, for the people, and by the
people ; there were heroes who knew the right and dared main-
tain it ; there were praying men, zealous ministers, and conscien-
tious statesmen. God smiled on his own, and that town was safe.

The English government at once adopted retaliatory measures.
General Gage was appointed governor of Massachusetts, with
orders to enforce new and more coercive decrees, virtually
abrogating the charter. The port of Boston was closed by act ^
of parliament. Great distress was thus produced in the city, but
from every side came expressions of sympathy and substantial
aid. The cause of Boston was made the common cause of the
country. The merchants of Marblehead and Salem, refusing to
profit by the ruin of their rivals, offered the use of their wharves to
the Boston merchants. Wyndham, Conn., donated a flock of two
hundred and fifty sheep. Schoharie, New York, forwarded
five hundred and fifty bushels of wheat. The people of Georgia
sent their sympathies from the far south, accompanied by sixty-
three barrels of rice and seven hundred and twenty dollars in
specie.

The burgesses of Virginia, then in session at the old capitol
in Williamsburg, learning the news of the Boston Port Bill, ap-
pointed a fast day on June ist, when it was to go into effect.
The governor immediately dismissed the refractory assembly, as
a schoolmaster would a class of unruly boys, — yet it contained
such men as Henry, Jefferson, Lee, Pendleton, and Nicholas.
Washington notes in his diary that he observed that day as a
rigid fast, and attended services at church. George Mason
charged his children to go thither clad in mourning. The bur-
gesses, after their dissolution, immediately repaired en masse to
the famous ''Apollo Room" of the Old Raleigh Tavern — Vir-
ginia's Faneuil Hall — less than one hundred paces from the
capitol. Here they declared unanimously that the attack on
Massachusetts was one upon all the colonies, and must be re-
sisted by their united wisdom.

Committees of correspondence were now appointed by the
various colonies. This idea, acted upon first by the Sons of Lib-

144

ALIENATION OF THE COLONIES.

[1774.

CARPENTER S HALL.

erty in New York city, became a powerful political engine in
combining the colonies against England. A curious device, rep-
resenting the colonies as parts of a
snake, with the significant motto,
"Join or die," was extensively
adopted. At the suggestion of
influential men and meetings in
all parts of the country, delegates
were chosen to a general congress.
The first Continental Congress
assembled at Carpenter's Hall,
Philadelphia, September 5, 1774.
Every colony but Georgia was
represented. The venerable Pey-
ton Randolph was chosen presi-
dent. Fifty-three delegates were
present — among them such men as
Samuel and John Adams of Mas-
sachusetts ; Hopkins of Rhode Island ; Sherman and Deane of
Connecticut; Livingston and Jay of New York; Lee, Henry,
Randolph, and Washington of Virginia ; Rutledge and Gadsden
of South Carolina. The first meeting, we are told, was fearfully
solemn. All felt the momentous responsibility of the occasion.
At last the silence was broken by the magic eloquence of Patrick
Henry. He was followed by Richard Henry Lee. It was
resolved that each session should open with prayer — Samuel
Adams, though a Congregationalist, moving that Rev. J. Duch^,
rector of Christ Church, Philadelphia, should be invited to
officiate.

Morning came. News had arrived of a bloody attack on
Boston by the British troops. The regular psalm for that day
(seventh) seemed providentially ordered. The chaplain read :
" Plead thou my cause, O Lord, with them that strive with me,
and fight thou against them that fight against me. Lay hand
upon the shield and buckler, and stand up to help me. Bring
forth the spear, and stop the way against them that persecute
me." " Lord, how long wilt thou look upon this? O deliver my
soul from the calamities which they bring on me." " Awake and
stand up to judge my quarrel. Avenge thou my cause, my God
and my Lord. Judge me, O Lord, my God, according to thy
righteousness ; and let them not triumph over me." After this,

1774.] EXCITEMENT OF THE PEOPLE. HS

the chaplain unexpectedly broke out into an extempore prayer so
full of zeal and fervor, for Congress, the country, and especially
for Boston, that the hearts of all were thrilled and comforted.

As yet few members had any idea of independence. Congress,,
however, voted, that obedience was not due to any of the recent
acts of parliament, and sustained Massachusetts in her resistance.
It issued a protest against standing armies being kept in the
colonies without consent of the people, and agreed to hold no
intercourse with Great Britain, though expressing at the same
time the most devoted loyalty to the king. It also agreed not to
import or purchase slaves after the first of December ensuing.

The country heaved like an ocean in a storm. Party lines
were now sharply drawn. Those opposed to the action of the
British government were termed Whigs, and those supporting it
Tories. Everywhere were repeated the thrilling words of
Patrick Henry in the Virginia House of Burgesses, ** I know not
what course others may take, but as for me, give me liberty or give
me death." Companies of soldiers, termed ** minute-men," were
formed. To be a private in one of these was an honor. Balls
were cast, cartridges made, and military evolutions learned.
Nothing was heard, says Botta, but the din of arms and the
sound of fife and drums. Gage, being alarmed, fortified Boston
Neck, and seized the powder in the magazine at Charlestown.
A rumor having been circulated that the British ships were
firing on Boston, in two days thirty thousand minute-men were
on their way to the city. A spark only was needed to kindle
the slumbering hatred into the flames of war.

EMGLAND FORCING TEA DOWN THE THROAT OF AMERICA.

(From a caricature of the time.)

CHAPTER II.

O^EJ^IJ^G OF THE WA(k.

ENERAL GAGE, learning that
the patriots were collecting
stores and ammunition at Con-
cord, resolved to seize them.
On April i8th, about eleven
o'clock in the evening, a body
of eight hundred regulars, under
the command of Lieutenant-
Colonel Smith and Major Pit-
cairn, secretly left Boston, and
near midnight took the road
for Concord. The moon shone
brightly from the clear sky, and
they moved on rapidly. The Boston leaders, however, were on
the alert. From the tower of the old North Church streamed a
beacon light ; while Paul Revere and William Dawes, escaping
the guard, were already far ahead announcing their coming.
There was

"A hurry of hoofs in a village street,

A shape in the moonlight, a bulk in the dark,
And beneath, from the pebbles, in passing, a spark
Struck out by a steed flying fearless and fleet."

Soon the distant ringing of bells and firing of guns told the
troops that the alarm was spreading. When they reached Lex-
ington at dawn, they found a small company of minute-men
gathering on the village green. Riding up, Pitcairn shouted,
" Disperse, you rebels ! Lay down your arms ! " " Too few to
resist, too brave to fly," they hesitated. Discharging his pistol, he
cried aloud to his troops, " Fire ! " It was a murder, not a battle.
Only a few random shots were returned by the patriots to the
volley which followed. Jonas Parker had sworn never to run

April 19,-1
1775. J

LEXINGTON AND CONCORD.

147

from the red-coats. Already wounded, he was reloading his gun
on his knees, when a bayonet thrust pierced his heart. Harring-
ton was hit while standing in front of his house. His wife saw
him from the window, and rushed down only to catch him as,
tottering forward, he expired in her arms. With three huzzas

PAUL REVERE SPREAX)ING THE ALARM.

over their valiant slaughter of a handful of villagers, the troops
marched on, leaving behind them seven Americans lying on the
bloody grass — the first dead of the Revolution.

Lonely did they look in the still air and the solemn hush that
fell on the town after the sharp crack of the rifle had died away ;
but they were heroes all, and, a century later, we gaze back upon
Lexington as upon an altar of sacrifice.

" Of man for man the sacrifice.

Unstained by blood, save theirs, they gave.
The flowers that blossomed from their grave
Have sown themselves beneath all skies.

" No seers were they, but simple men ;
Its vast results the future hid ;
The meaning of the work they did
Was strange and dark and doubtful then."

Elated by their success, the English now pushed forward to
Concord and destroyed what stores they could find at that place.
Major Pitcairn, who was given to bluster as well as profanity,
entered the village tavern and poured out a glass of brandy,
which he sweetened to his taste, but not finding a spoon to stir

148

OPENING OF THE WAR.

TApril 19,

L T775.

it, mixed it with his fingers ; at the same time saying in bluff
soldier fashion that "just so he would stir up the blood of the
Yankees before the day was over." Meantime the militia were
gathering fast on the neighboring hills, and even ventured to
sharply return a volley from the British pickets at the Concord
Bridge, where

"The embattled farmers stood
And fired the shot heard round the world."

bosto:n.oo) concord

The grenadiers ran in confusion. The example was contagious^
and Smith decided to return. It was high time. The whole region

was in arms. Every boy
old enough to grasp a
musket and a powder-
horn hurried to avenge
his fellows. The gray-
haired men hobbled on
as best they could to
get a shot at the ene-
mies of their country.
An old hoary-headed
man of Woburn figures
in the stories of the
time, who rode a fine
white horse after the
flying troops, and, dismounting within gunshot, would send his
sure bullet to the mark. When he fired some one fell. They
came to cry, at sight of him, " Look out, there is the man on the
white horse." Every bush, tree, stone wall, and building con-
cealed a patriot, who blazed away at the red-coats as they passed,
firing, loading quickly, and then running ahead across the fields
to catch another shot ; fresh allies on either flank streamed in by
every cross-road ; and between them all the British, no longer in
ranks, were flying like sheep along the same road by which they
had come, afraid of the storm they had aroused. The whole
body would have been captured had they not met Lord Percy
with reinforcements near Lexington. He formed a hollow square
to receive the breathless fugitives, who rushed forward with
*' tongues hanging out of their mouths, like those of dogs after a
chase." Even now there was danger. The woods were swarm-
ing with '' rebels." The cannon Percy had brought with him

April 19,1
1775. J

LEXINGTON AND CONCORD.

149

scarcely kept the Americans at bay. It was with the greatest
difficulty that he at last escaped under the guns of the fleet off
Charlestown.

During that eventful day the English had lost about two
hundred and eighty, and the Continentals one-third that num-
ber. Percy's men, enraged at their losses, plundered houses,
destroyed furniture, and fired buildings on their route, driving
the sick from their beds and killing the infirm. In one place, a
boy had taken refuge under his mother's bed ; a soldier, seeing
the little fellow's foot projecting, barbarously pinned it to the
floor with his bayonet. The young hero never groaned.

The effect of this day's work was electrical. The news that
American blood had been spilled flew like wildfire. Patriots
came pouring in from all sides. General Putnam, " Old Put," as
he was familiarly called, already famous for his exploit in the

PUTNAM STARTING FOR CAMBRIDGE.

wolf's den and other equally daring deeds, left his cattle yoked in
the field, and without changing the checked shirt he had on,
mounted his fastest horse, and the next morning was at Cam-
bridge, having ridden one hundred miles in eighteen hours.
Soon twenty thousand men were at work throwing up entrench-
ments to fasten the British in the city. Congresses were formed

ISO

OPENING OF THE WAR.

rMay la
L 1775.

in all the colonies, and committees of safet)^ were appointed to
call out the troops, and to provide for any emergency.

Meanwhile Connecticut resolved to strike a blow for the good
cause. An expedition was accordingly fitted out under Ethan
Allen, a noted leader of the " Green Mountain Boys," and Bene-
diet Arnold, to seize the forts of Ticonderoga and Crown Point.
Troops were hastily gathered, and the march began. Late on the
night of May 9th they reached the shore of the lake. Only a few
boats could be secured, and at daybreak only eighty-three men
had crossed. No time was to be lost if a surprise was to be
effected. With this little band, Allen marched directly upon a
fortress that mounted one hundred guns — himself leading the at-

ETHAN ALLAN AT TICONDEROGA.

tack, with Arnold emulously at his side. As Allen rushed into
the sally-port, a sentinel snapped his gun at him and fled. The
Green Mountain Boys quickly formed upon the parade-ground in
hollow square, facing each way toward the barracks, and raised
the Indian whoop. '' It was a cry," says Bancroft, '' that had not
been heard there since the time of Montcalm." Rapidly making
his way to the commander's quarters, Allen, in a voice of thunder,
ordered him to surrender. " By whose authority ?" exclaimed the
frightened officer. " In the name of the Great Jehovah and the
Continental Congress ! " shouted Allen. No resistance was at-

^Tns^'] CAPTURE OF TICONDEROGA. 151

tempted. Large stores of cannon and ammunition, just then so
much needed by the troops at Boston, fell into the hands of the
Americans without the loss of a single man. A detachment was
sent off under Colonel Seth Warner to take Crown Point, and that
fort surrendered at the first summons.

A few hours after the capture of Ticonderoga, the second Con-
tinental Congress met at Philadelphia. It voted to raise twenty
thousand men, and to issue three million dollars in paper money.
John Adams, after a powerful speech setting forth the qualities
requisite for the commander-in-chief of the army, suddenly nomi-
nated George Washington, then present as delegate from Virginia,
for that high office. All were surprised, as he had informed no
one of his intention, but the members unanimously approved the
choice. Artemas Ward, Charles Lee, Philip Schuyler, and Israel
Putnam were appointed major-generals ; Seth Pomeroy, Richard
Montgomery, David Wooster, William Heath, Joseph Spencer,
John Thomas, John SuUivan, and Nathaniel Greene, brigadiers ;
Horatio Gates was made adjutant-general, with the rank of briga-
dier. Strange to say, there were still hopes of a reconciliation,
and committees were appointed to petition the king and to ad-
dress the people of England.

Gage had now received heavy reinforcements under experi-
enced generals, Clinton, Burgoyne, and Howe. Thus encour-
aged, he declared martial law, but offered pardon to all rebels
who should lay down their arms, excluding, however, Samuel
Adams and Hancock, whose crimes were so great that they were
to be taken to England and reserved for more condign punish-
ment. The English were now determined, as Burgoyne expressed
it, to get *' elbow room," and they had already resolved to fortify
Dorchester Heights and Bunker Hill, which overlooked the city,
on the 1 8th of June. This becoming known in the patriot camp,
it was decided to anticipate them ; and General Ward, who was
then at the head of the besieging forces, ordered Colonel Prescott,
with one thousand men, to occupy Bunker Hill. On the night
of June 1 6th the troops assembled at Cambridge, whence, after
prayer by President Langdon of Harvard College, they noise-
lessly marched to Breed's Hill, which they had decided to be a
more commanding position. It was bright moonlight, and they
were so near the enemy that they could distinctly hear the "All's
well" of the sentinels at the foot of Copp's Hill ; yet so quietly did
they work that there was no alarm. Before morning they had

152

OPENING OF THE WAR.

rJune 17,
L 1775.

thrown up a redoubt eight rods square and six feet high. At
dawn, a watchman on one of the ships discovered the earthwork.
Fire was at once opened, in which soon after all the shipping and
a battery on Copp's Hill joined. Under the raining bombs and
balls the Americans toiled on, strengthening the work already

THE PRAYBR BEFORE THE BATTLE OF BUNKER HILL.

thrown up, and also running a breastwork north about twenty
rods down the hill. A soldier who had ventured outside being
killed by a cannon-ball, some panic-stricken ones fled. Colonel
Prescott, although his tall, commanding form rendered him a con-
spicuous mark, sought to reassure his men by leisurely making a
tour upon the parapet. General Gage, in Boston, was standing
near Counsellor Willard, Prescott's brother-in-law, inspecting the
works through a glass. " Who is that ?" he demanded. " That is
Colonel Prescott," was the reply. " Will he fight?" was the next
question. " Yes, sir," said Willard ; ** he will fight as long as a
drop of blood remains in his veins." " The works must be carried
immediately," was the quick response, and the British general
turned to give the orders.

The English commander might have occupied the neck of the
peninsula and cut off the entire American forces. Instead, he

June 17, -|
!775. J

BATTLE OF BUNKER HILL.

153

landed at Morton's Point with about two thousand men, intending
to march along the Mystic river and thus outflank the American
line. Prescott sent a Connecticut regiment to check this move-
ment. They took post behind a low stone wall and rail fence, in
front of which they placed a second fence, filling the space between
with new-mown hay. The artillery was stationed in the gap
between the rail fence and breastwork. Ward, fearing an attack
at Cambridge, refused to send reinforcements, but patriots singly
and in squads dared the passage of the Charlestown peninsula,
now raked by the enemy's fire, and came to the aid of their
countrymen. Pomeroy, an old man of seventy, leaving his
horse, which was a borrowed one, lest it m^ight be killed on the
way, shouldered a musket, and came on foot into the lines. Dr.
Warren, who had just received his commission as major-general,
reached the redoubt and served as a volunteer. §tark and his
New Hampshire men took post with the Connecticut regiment,
rapidly extending their line down to the river. Prescott sent back
the entrenching
tools to General
Putnam, who was
planning to fortify
Bunker Hill, but
the tired men who
carried them took
advantage of the
opportunity and
ran to the rear.

Howe, seeing
the strength of
the American
position, prudent-
ly waited for rein-
forcements. On

their arrival, he formed his men. It was a moment of terrible sus-
pense. The neighboring hills, the streets and roofs of Boston were
crowded with anxious spectators. On the one side were fifteen
hundred undisciplined yeomen, weary with their night's labor,
hungry and thirsty, under a leader of no acknowledged reputation ;
on the other, three thousand picked troops, richly uniformed and
equipped ; officers and men who had won victories on many of the
famous battlefields of Europe. The British slowly ascended the

BATTLE OF
BUNKER HILL

OPENING OF THE WAR.

/"June 17.
L 1775.

hill, breaking their ranks only to throw down the fences and to
pass the obstructions which lay in their way. As they drew near
they opened a heavy fire, while all the time ships and floating bat-
teries never ceased raining shot and shell upon the patriot lines.
Prescott had instructed his men to wait until they could ^' see
the whites of their enemies' eyes " before firing, and then " aim
at their waistbands." The patriot ranks lay quietly behind their

earthworks until the British
were within ten rods, every
piece sighted and pointed at
its victim. Suddenly Pres-
cott, waving his sword, shout-
ed, '' Fire / " A blaze of light
shot from the whole line ; soon
another; and then another.
Entire platoons went down
before the terrible storm.
The survivors, unwilling to fly, stood among the dead, bewil-
dered, paralyzed, by the shock. At last, the bugles sounded the
recall and they fell back to the shore.

After a brief delay, Howe rallied his men and advanced a
second time under cover of the smoke of Charlestown, which had
been fired by his orders. Again they met that deadly discharge
and again recoiled in dismav-

THE BAYONET CHARGE AT BUNKER HILL.

Juny^^s!'] BATTLE OF BUNKER HILL. 1 55

Clinton came with reinforcements from Boston, and a third
attempt was now made. The British soldiers threw off their
knapsacks and moved at the quickstep, with orders to use the
bayonet only. The artillery was brought to bear on the fatal gap
between the breastwork and the rail fence. The defenders of the
former were quickly driven into the redoubt. This was attacked
on three sides at once. The ammunition was scarce in the
American ranks. Only one volley smote the British ; the head
of their column was torn in pieces, but the main body poured
over the ramparts, driving all before it. Even yet the patriots
sturdily resisted ; most, having no bayonets, clubbed their mus-
kets and disputed every inch. As a sample of the spirit of the
day, one Salmon Steele is quoted, who, as he was leaving the
redoubt, stumbled over a dead British soldier. On opening his
enemy's cartridge-box and finding only one round was used, he
strapped the box to his side, and fired the remaining ammunition
with deadly aim before he left the field. Saddest of all that day's
losses, Warren was shot by a British officer who knew him, as he
was trying to rally his men. Stark, at the rail fence, when he
saw the redoubt taken, sullenly retired. The British regi-
ments, wounded and shattered, were unable to continue the
pursuit. Putnam, collecting the fugitives, held Prospect Hill,
scarce a mile in the rear of the battle-field. The English had lost
over a thousand men, the Americans but four hundred and fifty.
Sorrowful was the sight the sun beheld as it sank to rest. Where
but the day before the mower had quietly swung the scythe, the
dead now lay *' thick as sheep in the fold."

The effect of this battle upon the patriot cause was that of a
victory. It had been proven that American farmers could stand
firmly before the muskets of British regulars. The struggle for
liberty might be a severe one, but there was a chance for suc-
cess. " Americans will fight," Franklin wrote ; '' England has
lost her colonies forever." " Did the militia stand fire ? " inquired
Washington. When he learned that they not only did that, but
withheld their own until the British were within ten rods, he
exclaimed, ** The liberties of the country are safe." From ridi-
cule of American pretension, the British were suddenly startled
into respect for American valor. The troops who expected to
crush the " impudent rebels " in one easy charge, now boasted of
their courage in advancing against so murderous a foe, and took
credit for a bravery to which, it was averred, '' no history could

156 OPENING OF THE WAR. [J'^'jfs^'

produce a parallel." The colonists had at least compelled an
acknowledgment of their claim to a decent regard.

News of the fight at Bunker Hill reached Philadelphia on the
22d. The next day Washington set out for Cambridge to take
command of the army. On Monday, July 3, beneath the spread-
ing elm since so famous in song and story, he formally assumed the
command. Washington is described at this time as a tall, finely-
proportioned, dignified man, with a strikingly noble and com-
manding air. Mrs. Adams, who was present, wrote thus to her
husband : ** Those lines of Dry den instantly recurred to me :

• Mark his majestic fabric ! His a temple
Sacred by birth, and built by hands divine ;
His soul's the Deity that lodges there;
Nor is the pile unworthy of the God.' "

According to the fashion of his time, he was dressed in a blue
broadcloth coat faced with buff, buff small-clothes, silk stockings,
shoulder epaulettes, and a cocked hat. As he wheeled his horse
and drew his sword, a shout of enthusiasm went up from the
assembled multitude.

He found the army numbering about fourteen thousand. It
was an army, however, only in name. In fact, it was merely an
immense " gathering of neighbors, schoolmates, and friends,"
each with his own musket, powder-horn, and bag of bullets, and
only such provisions as he had brought with him or as were
sent into camp by his friends and others. Some of these had
left home on the impulse of excitement, and already wearied of
the monotony and peril of war. There were bitter jealousies
growing out of the appointment of the higher officers by Con-
gress. Many of the inferior officers were grossly inefficient,
insubordinate, and over-confident. Few of the companies were
disciplined or uniformed. Powder was so scarce that there was
only enough to furnish nine cartridges to each man. " Our situa-
tion in the article of powder is much more alarming than I had
the faintest idea of," wrote Washington to Congress. Reed,
Washington's secretary, reported that " almost the whole powder
of the army was in the cartridge-boxes." " The bay is open :
everything thaws here, except Old Put," facetiously wrote
another ; " he is still as hard as ever, crying out for ' Powder,
powder ! Ye gods, give us powder ! ' " Washington immedi-
ately set about organizing the troops and reforming abuses,

July^toOct..j SIEGE OF BOSTON. 1 57

meanwhile strengthening their position against any attempt of
Gage to break out of Boston. Fortunately, such was the dis-
couragement of the British leader that he never ventured even to
make a sally. The provincial lines were nearly nine miles in
length. Washington himself took command of the centre, Gen-
eral Ward of the right wing, and General Charles Lee, a former
British officer who had espoused the patriot cause, of the left.

The first troops raised under the order of Congress were the
Virginia riflemen. In less than sixty days, says Bancroft, twelve
companies were in Washington's camp, having come on foot from
four to eight hundred miles. The men, painted in the guise of
savages, were strong and of great endurance ; many of them
more than six feet high ; they wore leggins and moccasins, and
an ash-colored hunting-shirt with a double cape ; each one
carried a rifle, a hatchet, a small axe, and a hunter's knife. They
could subsist on a little parched corn and game killed as they
went along ; at night, wrapped in their blankets, they willingly
made a tree their canopy, the earth their bed. The rifle in their
hands sent its ball with unerring precision a distance of two or
three hundred yards. Their motto was, " Liberty or Death."
Newspapers of the day relate how they offered to shoot apples
off" one another's heads in true William Tell style ; how one man
at sixty paces put eight balls through a paper the size of a dollar ;
and another stuck his knife into a tree, and firing, halved his
bullet upon the edge.

During the summer and fall there was constant skirmishing
around Boston. Transports bearing stores to the beleaguered
troops were seized. Parties gathering hay and other supplies on
the islands in the bay were attacked in the boldest manner. The
English ships along the coast began a predatory warfare which
did little harm, but bitterly exasperated the people. On Octo-
ber 1 6, Captain Mow^att burned the town of Falmouth, now
Portland, declaring that he had orders to destroy every seaport
between Boston and Halifax.

While all these stirring events were transpiring around Bos-
ton, the cause of liberty was kindling into life in the other
colonies. In April, Dunmore, the detested governor of Virginia,
imitating the action of Gage of Massachusetts, seized the powder
in the magazine at Williamsburg. This overt act aroused
general indignation. Patrick Henry headed the people in a call
upon the governor, and they did not come away until he had

IS8

OPENING OF THE WAR.

c*'!?;!.''

promised to pay for the powder. The amount given, fifteen
hundred dollars, was afterward found to be too large, and the
balance was returned to Dunmore. The governor, alarmed by
the situation of affairs, fortified his residence and issued a procla-
mation against Henry
and his compatriots.
Some letters of the
governor's, grossly mis-
representing the colo-
nists, were afterward
intercepted, and these
adding fuel to the flame,
he was forced to take
refuge on board a royal
vessel. From this asy-
lum he valiantly de-
clared martial law, and
called upon the slaves
to leave their masters
and help him in his
emergency. He thus
gathered at Norfolk a
small force of blacks and royalists. November 28, the Vir-
ginia militia came over to Great Bridge, where they threw
up a fortification opposite the British fort built to defend the
approach to Norfolk. A few days after, Dunmore, with the
seamen from the ships and a mixed crowd of royalists and
negroes, came out to drive them from their position. The
negroes and loyalists stood at a safe distance, while the regulars
bravely charged down the narrow causeway, one hundred and
sixty yards long, at the end of which was the entrenchment.
The fire of the sharpshooters was terrific. The British leader,
Fordyce, fell, struck by fourteen balls. The rest fled, leaving
half their number behind. The Virginians lost not a man, and
only one received a slight wound. After the firing ceased, they
hastened to bring in their wounded foes who might need the
surgeon's aid. So little did the British understand their generous
sympathy, that the sufferers shrank from their approach, expect-
ing the tomahawk or the scalping-knife. " For God's sake," cried
one, " don't murder us." " Put your arm about my neck," was
the quiet reply, and the sturdy Virginian, who had just laid

THE OLD MAGAZINE AT WILLIAMSBURG.

*^,«^y5!'] EVENTS IN THE SOUTH. 1 59

down his rifle, tenderly supported his wounded enemy to the
breastworks. Captain Leslie, who commanded the negroes and
tories, was so touched by the gentle act, that he stepped upon the
platform of the fort and bowed his respectful thanks to the
" shirtmen," whose hearts were as kind as their souls were brave.
Th-e next night the British abandoned the fort and fled to the
protection of their ships.

On New Year's day, 1776, Dunmore landed troops which set
fire to Norfolk, the richest town in Virginia. Finally, abandoning
the Old Dominion, he sailed with his followers for the West
Indies. Though largely monarchical in feeling and Episcopal in
worship, Virginia had already given a leader to the Democratic
and Presbyterian army that beleaguered Boston. By this last act
her alienation from the crown was made complete.

In New England the feeling against the British aggressions, as
we have seen, was strong from the very first. This was natural,
^ince the rigor of the English laws pressed most heavily upon
that part of the country. '' Here," says Sabine, " were the
Roundheads, who met England in the workshops and on the
ocean." Adams, in sight of the ashes of Charlestown and the
trenches of Bunker Hill, wrote that Congress should at once
adopt a constitution and provide for defence. His letters were
published by the royalists in the expectation that they would
destroy his reputation and influence among the people.

In the Middle and Southern States the feeling was far from
unanimous. Tories were thick in Maryland, Pennsylvania, South
Carolina, and Georgia. New York was a stronghold of the
royalists, and it was long doubtful which way the assembly would
eventually go. In Queens county the inhabitants, by a vote of
more than three to one, refused to send delegates to the Provin-
cial Congress. The Delanceys and Phillipses in Westchester,
staunch friends of the king and vast land-holders, so influenced
their numerous tenantry, that all the patriotism of Van Court-
landt and of Morris of Morrisania could only hold a nearly equal
balance.

While Washington was en route for the camp at Boston, a
complication arose at New York which curiously illustrates the
condition of affairs and the indecision of many of the people. " At
the same time with his arrival," says Sparks, "■ news had come
that Governor Tryon was in the harbor, just arrived from Eng-
land, and would land that day. The Provincial Congress were

l6o OPENING OF THE WAR. l^n^i^'

a good deal embarrassed to determine how to act on this occa-
sion ; for though they had thrown off all allegiance to the
authority of their governor, they yet professed to maintain
loyalty to his person. They finally ordered a colonel to so dis-
pose of his militia as to be ready to receive ' eit/ier the General or
Governor Tryon, whichever should first arrive^ and wait on both as
well as circumstances would allow' "

As New York city was exposed to a bombardment from the
English vessels, the merchants were often exceeding timid, even
when their sympathies were with the patriots. Governor Tryon
had announced that Lord Dartmoor, in command of the fleet, had
orders to consider and treat any city taking a decisive part, as in
open rebellion. The utmost zeal of the whigs for a long time
made little head against the fears of some and the opposition of
others. A committee of public safety, however, had been ap-
pointed. The tories did all they could to embarrass any action,
and to furnish the British ships in the bay with information and
provisions. At last. Congress having recommended the arrest of
any person whose going at large was likely to endanger the safety
of the colonies, Governor Tryon took alarm and went on board a
vessel. Here he was in constant intercourse with the tories, and
encouraged every movement of hostility to the patriot cause.

The course of Pennsylvania was undecided, since, besides its
royalist population, it was a Quaker colony, and the religious
principles of the people forbade any forcible resistance to the
tyranny of their rulers. While the precipitate action of Gage
and Dunmore hurried the colonies under their immediate
authority into rebellion, the governors of Pennsylvania, New
Jersey, Delaware, and Maryland were prudent and wisely
watched the progress of affairs. Hence in these colonies there
was little disturbance, and the people quietly waited the action of
the British government.

North Carolina was largely whig from the start. The regu-
lators of that State were the first to take up arms to secure their
rights. As early as May, 1775, the patriots of Mecklenburg
county met at Charlotte and declared their allegiance to king and
parliament forever ended. The Mecklenburg Declaration was
issued fourteen months before the Colonial Congress met in Phil-
adelphia and the old State-house bell rang out liberty to all the
land. In South Carolina, on the other hand, the royalists were
numerous, active, and probably in the majority. The income of

July4,

i'Js"']

THE FEELING TOWARD ENGLAND.

l6l

the planters and the commerce of Charleston itself rested upon
raw products raised and shipped to England. The ties of
interest, business, and friendly relationship all bound the princi-
pal men to the mother country. War would sunder these at
once. Yet the patriots of this colony, which had so much at
stake, perilled all, drove off the royal governor, fortified Charles-
ton, and took their government in their own hands.

Georgia was also friendly to parliament, and, indeed, was not
represented in the Continental Congress until the second session,
delegates being elected July 4, 1775.

In looking back upon it now, the action of Congress seems to
us to have been timid and uncertain. It had forwarded a second
petition to the British government, and the majority still fondly
dreamed of reconciliation with England. At the most, said they^
a single campaign will show the king the folly of coercion. The
truth is, the colonists yet clung to their English traditions with
wonderful tenacity. They earnestly
desired a settlement of their diffi-
culties, and a restoration to their
old situation. They hoped only for
a redress of certain grievances, and
then all would be well. Jefferson
afterward wrote that the " possibil-
ity of a separation from England
was contemplated with affliction by
all." Washington said, " When I
first took command of the army, I

abhorred the idea of independence ;" and John Adams even, the
very palladium of American independence, declared that ^' there
was not a moment during the Revolution when I would not have
given everything I possessed for a restoration to the state of things
before the contest began, provided we could have a sufficient
guaranty for its continuance." Dickinson, from the beginning
the patriot leader of Pennsylvania, opposed the Declaration of
Independence in 1776 to the very last. Under these circum-
stances. Congress was timorous. Franklin's plan of a confedera-
tion, considered twenty-one years before, in Albany, was brought
out again, but laid aside. Troops were enlisted only until an
answer could be expected from the petition. A third million
dollars in paper was ordered to be printed ; but Congress had
no power to lay taxes of any kind ; while commerce was dead, and
II

CONTINENTAL MONEY.

1 62 OPENING OF THE WAR. [1775.

there were no imports. Promises of thirteen colonies, distracted
by war and internal dissension, to pay at some indefinite time,
were sure to depreciate from the beginning. It seemed the best,
however, that could be done.

Meanwhile the British government was straining every nerve
to recruit its armies in America. British emissaries were busy
among the Five Nations of central New York and the savage
Indians of Canada, urging them to take up arms against the colo-
nists. The " Olive Branch," as the petition to the king was styled,
was rejected. Trade with the colonies was forbidden. American
vessels, and all others found trading in American ports, with
their cargoes, were liable to seizure, and the crews to be treated
as slaves. Treaties were made with certain German princes,
who promised to furnish seventeen thousand men for the Amer-
ican war at thirty-six dollars per head. The Landgrave of Hesse-
Cassel sent the largest number, hence these mercenaries were
called Hessians.

The obstinacy of the king, the refusal even to hear the re-
spectful petition read in parliament, the passage of these violent
measures, and especially the hiring of foreign mercenaries, filled
the cup of England's wrongs to her colonies. Separation and war
were inevitable.

Congress invited the other British colonies in America to
unite with them in asserting their rights. As Canada refused to
take part in the movement, and British forces ascending the St.
Lawrence could thence attack the colonies in the rear, it was de-
cided, if possible, to wrest that country from the crown. Early in
the summer and fall of 1775, General Montgomery, commanding
an expedition, captured St. John's, at the foot of Lake Champlain,
within the Canadian border. Thence pushing on to Montreal, he
took that city, and advanced through the ice and snow of Decem-
ber upon Quebec.

Meanwhile a force under General Arnold, detached from the
beleaguering army at Boston, had ascended the Kennebec River,
and made its way northward through the pathless wilderness.
With this indefatigable leader were Morgan, Greene, Meigs, and
Aaron Burr — then a young man of twenty, afterward Vice-Presi-
dent of the United States. No pen can describe the horrors of
their march. Making their way with infinite toil ; carrying their
boats, baggage, and ammunition past the rapids and marshy
swamps ; exposed to rain and storm ; crossing swollen streams ;

1775. J

SIEGE OF QUEBEC.

163

barefooted and with clothes torn almost to nakedness ; cold, wet,
weary, and sick ; with the last ox killed ; the last dog eaten ; then
roots and moose-skin moccasins devoured in the extremity of
hunger ; finally, after two days of starvation, the famished troops
emerged among the Canadian settlements. On the loth of No-
vember they appeared like spectres upon the hanks of the St.
Lawrence, opposite Quebec. Morgan's riflemen wore linen hunt-
ing-shirts. By some mistake, in the news of their coming, the
word toile became changed to tole, and the simple peasants heard
to their amazement that the advancing army were clad in sheet-
iron. Securing boats with the greatest difficulty, Arnold crossed
the river, landed in the same cove where Wolfe made his daring
attempt, and climbed to the Plains of Abraham. He here sum-
moned the city to surrender; but in vain. Soon after, he was
joined by Montgomery, who took the command. Their com-
bined forces did not number one thousand men and a few small
cannon, yet they
proposed to be-
siege the greatest
fortified city in
America, mount-
ing two hundred
guns and defend-
ed by an army
twice as large as
their own. But
Montgomery had
been a companion
of Wolfe, and he
emulated his glo-
rious example.
For a time he en-
deavored to pro-
voke the garrison to come out and fight in the open field ; but
Carleton, the governor, was present when Montcalm ventured to
leave the protection of the walls, and he did not propose to
repeat the rash experiment. Montgomery was forced to begin
a regular siege. The ground was frozen too hard to trench for
planting the battery, so he filled the gabions and fascines with
snow, over which he poured water. This made a solid rampart
of ice to protect the men as they worked the guns. Three

THE PRESCOTT GATE, QUEBEC.

164 OPENING OF THE WAR. [

Dec. 31,

weeks of useless labor followed. Perils thickened. The artillery
was too light to breach the walls ; small-pox and other diseases
broke out among the troops ; the enlistment of the men had
nearly expired, and soon the army would break up. Montgom-
ery decided to venture all upon an assault. The preparations
were carefully made. There were to be two feigned movements
upon the upper town to distract the attention of the besieged,
while the real attacks were made by Montgomery and Arnold on
the lower town. The former general was to advance along the
St. Lawrence, and the latter, the St. Charles River, and both were
to unite in storming the Prescott Gate.

It was the last morning of the year 1775. The men were ready
at two o'clock. To recognize one another in the dark, they placed
in the front of their hats bits of white paper, on which some of
them wrote Patrick Henry's words, '^ Liberty or Death." It was
storming bitterly as they sallied out from their rude huts, and
stumbled through and against the cutting hail and deep-driving
snow. They tried to protect their guns as best they could, but
they soon became useless. Montgomery, advancing along the
river at the foot of Cape Diamond Cliff, helped with his own hands
to push aside the huge blocks of ice, and, struggling through the
drifts, cheered on his panting men. As they rushed forward, a
rude block-house appeared through the blinding storm. ** Men of
New York," he shouted, " you will not fear to follow where your
general leads." Charging upon it, he fell at the first fire. His
followers, disheartened, fled. Arnold, in the meantime, ap-
proached the opposite side of the city. While bravely fighting
he was severely wounded and borne to the rear. Morgan, his
successor, pressed on the attack with his riflemen; but at last,
unable to retreat or advance against the tremendous odds, now
that Montgomery's assault had failed, he took refuge in the neigh-
boring houses, where he was finally forced to surrender. The
remainder of the army, crouching behind mounds of snow and
ice, maintained a blockade of the city until spring. Congress,
blindly bent on keeping up the useless struggle, ordered Washing-
ton to send his best men and officers, and to divide his scanty
supply of powder, for the siege of Quebec. It was in vain. The
garrison laughed outright as they saw General Wooster, the new
commander, in his big wig, spying out their weak points. They
knew they were invincible.

May 1st, General Thomas assumed control of the blockading

July. 1

lyre J

ABANDONMENT OF CANADA.

I6s

army. He decided to retreat. It was already too late. Rein-
forcements from England were fast arriving in Quebec. Before
he could remove his sick the garrison sallied out from the gates
and drove his men in confusion. Many of the sick, amid the
hurry, crept off among the Canadian peasants, who nursed them
kindly, while Carleton gave them the privilege of entering the
hospital, with leave to return home when they were fully recov-
ered. Thomas dying of the small-pox, Sullivan took command.
He attempted the offensive, but was soon forced to resume the
retreat.

It was not until July that the fragments of the army of Canada,
then under Gates, safely reached Crown Point. Terrible was
their condition. " There was not a hut," says Trumbull, " which
did not contain a dead or dying man ;" while a physician, witness-
ing the arrival of the sick, declared that he '' wept at their suflfer-
ings until he could weep no more."

A STREET IN QUEBEC — SCENE OF ARNOLD'S ATTACK.

CHAPTER III.

IJ7(DE<PEJ'J(DEUCE YEA(k~iTj6.

yr-r^.A^W(

URING the winter of 1775-6, Con-
gress and the country were impa-
tient at Washington's inactivity.
He dared not make known his
real weakness. He could not
publish the facts : that for six
months he never had powder
enough for a battle ; that the
military chest was empty, the
men appointed to sign the paper-
promises being too lazy to do the
work ; that he lacked bayonets ;
that two thousand of his men had
no muskets ; that, by the expiration of enlistments, he had to dis-
band one army and recruit another ; and all this in the presence
of the enemy. Toward the close of December, the Connecticut
troops, having served their time of enlistment, determined to
leave in a body. Washington was greatly hurt by this lack of
patriotism. He tried to stimulate their zeal by frequent appeals,,
and made the camp to resound with popular songs of heroism and
liberty. But it was all in vain. " The desire of retiring into a
chimney-corner seizes the troops as soon as their terms expire,"
he wrote reproachfully. So little sympathy did these recreant
troops find on their way homeward that they could hardly get
enough to eat, and when they reached their own firesides they
found the honest indignation of their patriot wives and mothers
a so much harder thing to face than the mouth of the enemy's
cannon, that many were glad soon to return to camp.

Washington, in spite of all these discouragements, resolutely
laid his plans, and made ready for a grand stroke which he hoped

•^f^'yeM EVACUATION OF BOSTON. 1 6/

would be decisive. On the 4th of March, just after the candles
were lighted in the houses of Boston, he suddenly opened a tre-
mendous fire on the city from all his batteries. The enemy replied.
Soon the air was heavy with the roar of the guns, and the streets
were full of citizens and soldiers watching the flight of the shells
and dreading their fall and explosion. Under cover of the noise
and confusion, Dorchester Heights were occupied, entrenchments
thrown up with bales of pressed hay, an abattis made of the trees
in the neighboring orchards, and even barrels of stone provided
to roll down on an advancing enemy. In the morning the Eng-
lish were astonished to see on a height commanding the city a
formidable-looking fortress looming indistinctly through the ris-
ing fog." " The rebels," exclaimed Howe, " have done more work
in one night than my whole army would have done in a month."
" We must drive them from that post," said Colonel Monckton,
"or desert the place." A storm prevented an immediate attack,
a delay which was well improved by the provincials. General
Howe, who was then in command, remembering the lesson of
Bunker Hill, decided to leave. Indeed, there was no alternative.
The British troops had no stomach for another fight. The Amer-
ican cannon completely commanded the harbor, and the admiral
refused to remain. Gage accordingly set sail for Halifax on the
17th with his entire army and about eleven hundred loyalists.
Washington's end was accomplished, and not twenty men had
been lost since he took command.

It was a bitter pill for the English. The generals who had
come expecting to run over the colonies at their pleasure, and
had even brought with them fishing-rods, as if on a holiday ex-
cursion, had, instead, been cooped up close to their landing-place
for months, and were now forced to ignominiously leave their
winter-quarters, and to lower their flag without the satisfaction
of firing a parting shot. But how sad was it for the loyalists
who had clung to the king, and now, startled by finding the army
unable to protect them, were suddenly forced to leave native
land, home, and property, and henceforth to drag out a useless
life on a dreary shore, pensioners on the bounty which the gov-
ernment pityingly doled out to them in their distress !

For eleven months the inhabitants had endured the horrors of
a siege and the insolence of the soldiery. Houses and shade-
trees had been burned for fuel. The Old North Meeting-House
had thus passed into ashes, the Old South being reserved for a

1 68 . INDEPENDENCE YEAR. UfiieJ'

riding-school. An elegantly carved pew with silk hangings,
belonging to the latter, was taken by one of the officers for a pig-
sty. Faneuil Hall was converted into a theatre. One evening,
before a house packed with troops and tories, a play was in pro-
gression called " The Blockade of Boston," being a broad bur-
lesque on the patriot army. Washington herein appeared as *' an
awkward lout, equipped with a huge wig and a long rusty sword,
attended by a country booby as orderly sergeant, in rustic garb,
with an old firelock seven or eight feet long." It was very funny,
and when a British sergeant suddenly came to the front, exclaim-
ing in excited tones, '' The Yankees are attacking Bunker's Hill ! "
it was loudly applauded as a piece of magnificent acting. But,
directly, the clear, commanding voice of General Howe rang
out, ** Officers, to your alarm-posts." The scene was quickly
changed. Women shrieked and fainted ; men jumped to their
feet ; everybody scrambled over everybody else to reach the
open door. The ridiculous general and his frowsy sergeant were
left upon the stage to tumble out of their clownish masquerades
as best they might, while the soldier audience hastened with
quite different expectations to meet, perhaps, the real Washing-
ton. But it proved to be General Putnam, who, swooping down
upon Charlestown, fired the guard-house, took a handful of pris-
oners, and escaped, without loss, back to the American quarters.

All this was now passed. Those who had been so long exiled
from their homes returned to the city. Ancient customs were
renewed. We read how on Thursday evening following, Wash-
ington attended the regular week-day lecture, and the congrega-
tion together thanked God for the restoration of their beloved
Zion, its " stakes unmoved " and its *' cords unbroken." " It
seemed," says Bancroft, " as if the old century was reaching out
its hands to the new, and the Puritan ancestry of Massachusetts
were returning to bless the deliverer of their children."

Governor Martin of North Carolina, following in the footsteps
of Dunmore, sought to combine the friends of the king, and thus
check the rising tide of liberty in his State. He accordingly
authorized Donald McDonald, a noted Highlander at Cross
Creek, now Fayetteville, to raise the loyalists of that region.
Soon fifteen hundred had gathered about the standard of this
faithful Scotchman. The patriots, however, were awake. Colonel
Moore, with a large body of regulars and militia, approached his
headquarters and cut off all his communications with Governor

''17767'] AFFAIRS IN NORTH CAROLINA. 1 69

Martin. McDonald, finding he could not intimidate the " rebels,"
thereupon rapidly retreated toward Wilmington, where he
hoped to join the governor and also await General Clinton, who
was expected to arrive from the North with reinforcements. At
Moore's Creek, however, he found his retreat cut ofif by Colonels
Caswell and Lillington with one thousand minute-men. The

BOSTON ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO.

brave Highlander resolved to cut his way through the gathering
foes. Early in the morning of February 27, to the sound of bag-
pipes and bugle, the royalists advanced to the charge. When
within twenty paces, the whigs rose from their ambush, while
another party under Lieutenant Slocum, by a circuit came upon
the enemy's rear. In a few minutes the tory army was utterly
routed, with a loss of seventy killed and wounded, while the
patriots had only two of their number injured. This battle de-
cided the fate of the royal cause in North Carolina ; and soon
after the governor took refuge on a British vessel.

An anecdote is told of the wife of Lieutenant Slocum, who
was as heroic as himself. After her husband departed, she saw
him in a dream lying dead on the ground. Awaking in great
distress, she arose, saddled a horse, and rode at full gallop
through the swamp in the direction taken by the troops. At nine
in the morning she neared the battle-field. One of the first
objects she saw was the lieutenant's cloak wrapped around a
body stretched upon the ground. With sinking heart, she dis-

I/O INDEPENDENCE YEAR. [''"1776?'

mounted, to find, not her husband, but one of his wounded men.
She washed his face, bound up his wounds, and was performing
the like office to a second sufferer when her astonished husband
came up. She remained all day, caring for the wounded loyalists
with true Samaritan kindness. At midnight she started for her
home, where a mother's duties were required. In less than forty
hours this wonderful woman rode one hundred and twenty-five
miles, spending the time when out of her saddle, not in taking
rest, but in dressing the wounds of her enemies.

Though the British had abandoned Boston, they had not given
up the war. The next movement was destined for the South.
Early in June, Admiral Parker appeared off the harbor of
Charleston with a strong fleet, having on board General Clinton
with about twenty-five hundred land troops. The South Caro-
linians had received news of their probable coming, and were
hard at work getting ready to give their unwelcome visitors a
hot reception. Fort Sullivan, a fort on an island of the same name,
commanded the entrance to the harbor. It was built of two rows
of palmetto logs, sixteen feet apart, the space between being filled
with sand. Major-General Charles Lee, who had been sent by
Washington to watch the seaboard, had no confidence in this rude
fortress, and was anxious to have it abandoned. He declared that
it was but a ** slaughter pen," provided only twenty-eight rounds
of ammunition for twenty-six of its guns, and repeatedly urged
the necessity of securing the retreat of the garrison. But the
brave Carolinians proposed to hold the place. " What do you
think of it now ? " said an officer to Colonel Moultrie, as they
were surveying the British line of ships, all of which were
already over the bar. *' We shall beat them," was the determined
reply. ^' The men-of-war will knock your fort down in half an
hour," returned the other. *' Then," said Moultrie, nothing
daunted, '^ we will lie behind the ruins and prevent their men
from landing."

On the morning of the 28th the British fleet took position and
opened a terrific fire. The balls sank into the porous, spongy
palmetto logs without breaking or splintering them. Moultrie
slowly replied, but each shot told, and the ships in a few hours
were completely riddled. At one time, every man except
Admiral Parker was swept from the deck of his vessel. In the
early part of the action the staff was struck by a ball, and the
flag, the first Republican banner hoisted at the South, fell out-

June 28, ~|
1776. J

ATTACK ON FORT MOULTRIE.

171

THE ATTACK ON FORT MOULTRIB.

side the fort.
Sergeant Jas-
per leaped
over the breastwork,
about which the balls
were thickly flying, caught up
the flag, and springing back,
tied it to a sponge staff and
hoisted it again to its place. Gen-
eral Clinton, who commanded the

British land troops, tried to attack the fort in the rear, but Thom-
son's riflemen, posted behind myrtle bushes and sand hills, made
it too hot for him. The fleet was at last so badly shattered that
it withdrew and sailed for New York. This victory gave the
colonists great delight, as it was their first encounter with the
boasted '* mistress of the seas." The fort so gallantly defended
was christened Moultrie. It had saved not only a city, but a
province. The next day Governor Rutledge offered the brave
Jasper a sword and a lieutenant's commission. He modestly
refused the latter, saying, ** I am not fit for the company of officers ;
I am content to be a sergeant.'*

Gradually, but surely, the colonists were being weaned from
the mother country. Day by day for nearly a year the sword
had been busy, cutting the ties which had so long bound them to

1/2 INDEPENDENCE YEAR. Vnle.'

Great Britain. Since the king had pronounced them " rebels,"
the feeling had been gaining ground that independence was the
only hope. No one did better work toward accomplishing this
result than Thomas Paine, who, coming from England the year
before, had been induced by Franklin and others to use his pen
in behalf of the colonists. His first essay, entitled Common SensCy
in plain, simple language urged the necessity of at once separat-
ing entirely from England. Every line glowed with the spirit of
liberty, and men's hearts were thrilled as they read. The pam-
phlet reached Congress, then in session at Philadelphia, January 8,
the day after the news had arrived of the burning of Norfolk by
Dunmore. It produced a powerful impression. Washington,
writing to Secretary Reed, says : " A few more such flaming
arguments as were exhibited at Falmouth and Norfolk, added to
the sound doctrine and unanswerable reasoning contained in
* Common Sense,' will not leave numbers at a loss to decide."

In April, at the opening of the courts in South Carolina, the
chief justice charged the jury that they " owed no obedience to
George III." The British flag kept its place on the State-house
of Virginia until May of this year, when the assembly directed
the Virginia delegate in Congress to propose a dissolution of
their allegiance to Great Britain. Washington wrote that
" nothing but independence could save the nation." Accordingly
on the 7th of June, Richard Henry Lee offered a resolution
declaring that " These United Colonies are, and of right

OUGHT TO BE, FREE AND INDEPENDENT STATES." It was Sec-
onded by John Adams. After a little discussion from the dele-
gates of several colonies, who were pledged to vote against
independence, a committee was appointed, consisting of Thomas
Jefferson, John Adams, Benjamin Franklin, Roger Sherman, and
Robert R. Livingston, to propose a suitable Declaration ; Jefferson
representing Virginia, from which the proposition emanated, and,
being elected by the largest number of votes, was selected to
draft it. Meanwhile, the delegates from the different colonies
received instructions from their constituents how to vote upon
the measure. July 2d, Lee's resolution was formally passed by
twelve of the colonies ; New York alone abstaining from the vote.
Two days after, the Declaration having been closely debated by
Congress, was adopted with but few amendments.

While the protracted and oftentimes severe discussions over
the Declaration were in progress, Jefferson remained silent ; John

July 4,-1
1776. J

DECLARATION OF INDEPENDENCE.

173

Adams being its stout defender. " During the debate," the
former wrote in his journal, " I was sitting by Dr. Franklin, who
observed that I was writhing a little under the acrimonious criti-
cism of some of its parts ; and it was on that occasion that, by
way of comfort, he told me the story of John Thompson, the
hatter, and his new sign." All readers of Franklin's autobiography
will remember the story : how the prospective shopkeeper, with
much pride, laid out his plan for a sign, '* John Thompson, hatter,
makes and sells hats for ready money," accompanied by a picture
of the article ; and how his critical friends picked first at this
word and then at that as superfluous, till the dismayed shopman
had nothing left but his name and the painted hat. The point was
too obvious not to be enjoyed, especially when told in Franklin's
happy style.

During the day of the 4th the streets of Philadelphia were
crowded with people anxious to learn the decision. In the steeple
of the old State-house was a bell
which, by a strange coincidence,
was inscribed, " Proclaim liberty
throughout all the land unto all the
inhabitants thereof." In the morn-
ing, when Congress assembled, the
bell-ringer went to his post, placing
his boy below to announce when the
Declaration was adopted, that his
bell might be the first to peal forth
the glad tidings. Long he waited as
the day wore on and the tedious de-
liberations held the result in sus-
pension. Impatiently the old man

shook his head and repeated, *' They will never do it ! They will
never do it ! " Suddenly he heard his boy clapping his hands and
shouting, " Ring ! Ring ! " Grasping the iron tongue, he swung
it vigorously to and fro. The crowded streets caught up the
sound. Every steeple re-echoed it. All that night, by shouts,
and illuminations, and booming of cannon, the people declared
their zeal and joy.

** There was tumult in the city.

In the quaint old Quakers' town,

And the streets were rife with people,

Pacing restless up and down ; —

LIBERTY BELL.

174 INDEPENDENCE YEAR. [Jj^^jf^

People gathering at corners,
Where they whispered each to eaclv *

And the sweat stood on their temples.
With the earnestness of speech.

"As the bleak Atlantic currents

Lash the wild Newfoundland shore,
So they beat against the State-house,

So they surged against the door ;
And the mingling of their voices

Made a harmony profound,
Till the quiet street of Chestnut

Was all turbulent with sound.

*♦ • Will they do it ? ' ' Dare they do it ? '
• Who is speaking ? ' * What's the news?*

* What of Adams ? ' * What of Sherman ? '

' Oh, God grant they won't refuse ! '
' Make some way there ! ' ' Let me nearer !*
' I am stifling 1' ' Stifle, then !
When a nation's life's at hazard,
We've no time to think of men ! '

"■ So they beat against the portal,

Man and woman, maid and child ;
And the July sun in heaven

On the scene look'd down and smiled ;
The same sun that saw the Spartan

Shield his patriot blood in vain,
Now beheld the soul of freedom

All unconquer'd rise again.

** See ! See ! The dense crowd quivers

Through all its lengthy line,
As the boy beside the portal

Looks forth to give the sign !
With his small hands upward lifted.

Breezes dallying with his hair,
Hark ! with deep, clear intonation,

Breaks his young voice on the air.

** Hush'd the people's swelling murmur,
List the boy's strong, joyous cry !

* /^ing ! ' he shouts, ' Ring ! Grandpa^

' Ring ! Oh, Ring for Liberty ! *
And straightway, at the signal,

The old bellman lifts his hand,
And sends the good news, making

Iron music through the land.

'''(f,^/ DECLARATION OF INDEPENDENCE. I75

** How they shouted ! What rejoicing !
How the old bell shook the air,
, Till the clang of freedom ruffled

The calm, gliding Delaware !
How the bonfires and the torches

Illumed the night's repose,
And from the flames, like Phcenix,
Fair Liberty arose !

** That old bell now is silent,

And hush'd its iron tongue,
But the spirit it awakened

Still lives, — forever young.
And while we greet the sunlight.

On the fourth of each July,
We'll ne'er forget the bellman,

Who, twixt the earth and sky.
Rung out Our Independence :

ViYiich, T^\e2iSQ God, shall never die !** ■

The Declaration had been duly authenticated by the president
before being published. It was ordered to be engrossed on
parchment, and on the 2d of August the fifty-four delegates
present affixed their signatures. John Hancock's name, as presi-
dent, led the rest. After he had written his name in a bold, clear
hand, he rose from his seat and said, " There ! John Bull can
read that without his spectacles, and may now double his reward
of five hundred pounds for my head. That is my defiance."
Turning to the rest, he added, " Gentlemen, we must be unani-
mous ; we must all hang together." '* Yes," replied FrankUn, " or
we shall all hang separately." The Declaration of Independence
was read by Washington's orders at the head of the army then in
New York. It created the greatest enthusiasm. That night the
statue of George III. was torn from its pedestal. It was of lead,
gilded, and being melted, made forty-two thousand bullets for the
use of the troops.

The Declaration of Independence completed the breach be-
tween England and America. It clearly set before the colonists
the object for which they were struggling, and combined England
for the overthrow of the new Republic. Henceforth, the issue
was Liberty or Slavery. There was no other choice. The whig
and tory parties were now more distinctly defined, and the most
bitter hatred arose between them. Persons known as favoring
the king were tarred and feathered by their patriotic neighbors,

176 INDEPENDENCE YEAR. ["'"'1776.'^'

and exhibited in this state to the derision of the crowd. Con-
gress appointed committees to restrain these over-zealous mani-
festations, but they were often powerless in the face of public sen-
timent.

During this year and the next all the States either adopted a
new constitution or remodeled their charters to adapt them to the
necessities of free and independent States ; Rhode Island and Con-
necticut only having to change the word ''king" to ''people" to
effect this result.

It is a noticeable fact that the founders of our government,
when they threw off the bondage of Great Britain, had no direct
intention of founding a republic. That idea came only as mature
fruit from the blossom of free thought, borne by the tree of liberty,
planted so long before on American soil. They revolted from
George III., not because he was a king, but because he was a des-
pot. They threw off the rule of Great Britain, not because it was
a monarchy, but because it was tyrannical. They became a re-
public, as that seemed the only thing to do. No one thought of a
monarch. The people had learned how to govern themselves, and
their rulers needed none of the false dignity that " doth hedge
about a king." The colonies, for nearly a century and a half, all
unconsciously, had wrought out the idea of a republic. It now
came as naturally as the rain and the dew from heaven.

After the evacuation of Boston, Washington thought that
probably the British would next try to seize New York, both on
account of its commercial importance and the strong tory element
in that vicinity. He therefore, soon after, came to that city. The
most vigorous preparations were made to complete the fortifica-
tions, already begun by General Charles Lee. Troops were en-
listed for three years, and a bounty of ten dollars offered to
encourage recruiting. About twenty-seven thousand men were
finally collected. Little over half of these were fit for duty. One
regiment, we read, had only ninety-seven firelocks and seven bay-
onets. The officers, many of whom were grossly incompetent,
wrangled about precedence. The soldiers mistook insubordina-
tion for independence. Sectional jealousies prevailed to such a
degree, that a letter of the times reports that the Pennsylvania
and New England troops were quite as ready to fight each other
as the enemy.

The first of July, General Howe arrived at Staten Island from
Halifax. Soon after, he was joined by his brother. Admiral Howe.

^"{jjef] BATTLE OF LONG ISLAND. 1 7/

from England, and Clinton, from the defeat of Fort Moultrie.
They had thirty thousand men admirably disciplined and equip-
ped ; among them about eight thousand of the dreaded Hessians.
The fleet, consisting of ten ships-of-the-line, twenty frigates, and
four hundred ships and transports, was moored in the bay ready
to co-operate. Parliament had authorized the Howes to treat
with the insurgents. By proclamation they accordingly offered
pardon to all who would return to their allegiance. This docu-
ment was published by direction of Congress, that the people
might see what England demanded. An officer was then sent to
the American camp with a letter addressed to " George Washing-
ton, Esq." Washington refused to receive it. The address was
afterward changed to " George Washington, &c., &c." The mes-
senger endeavored to show that this bore any meaning which
might be desired. But Washington utterly refused any communi-
cation which did not distinctly recognize his position as com-
mander-in-chief of the American army. Lord Howe was evi-
dently desirous of a restoration of peace. He solicited an inter-
view with Franklin, an old-time friend ; but events had gone too
far. England would not grant independence, and the colonies
would accept nothing less. War must settle the question.

It was not till the last of August that Clinton crossed over the
Narrows to Long Island. Brooklyn was fortified by a series of
entrenchments and forts extending from Gowanus Bay to Wall-
about. Here were stationed about eight thousand men under
Generals Sullivan and Stirling. About two and a half miles south
was a range of wooded heights traversed by three roads along
which the British could advance ; one leading up directly from
the Narrows and Gravesend to Gowanus Bay, a second from Flat-
bush, and a third, the Jamaica road, cutting through the hills by
the Bedford and the Jamaica passes. General Greene, who was
intimately acquainted with the ground, being unfortunately sick.
General Putnam was hastily sent over to take charge of the de-
fence. General Stirling and General Sullivan occupied the heights,
but, by a fatal oversight, the Jamaica road was unguarded. The
English were not slow to take advantage of the opportunity.

On the eve of the 26th, General Clinton, with Percy and Corn-
wallis, crossed the narrow causeway called Shoemaker's Bridge,
over a marsh near New Lots — where, it is said, a single regiment
could have barred the way — and, before daylight, had seized the
Bedford and the Jamaica passes, while the Americans were yet
12

178

INDEPENDENCE YEAR.

rAug. 2:

L 1776.

27,

unconscious of his having left Flatlands. Meanwhile General
Grant moved forward along the coast, on the direct road, from
the Narrows up to the hills at present embraced in Greenwood
Cemetery. Here there was considerable skirmishing, but Stir-
ling held him in check. Clinton,
pushing down from the hills, now
fell upon the American left, at
Bedford. The sound of cannon in
their rear filled the Americans
with dismay. At that moment
De Heister, with the Hessians,
who had already begun
to skirmish on the Flat-
bush road, stormed Sul-
livan's position. Re-
treat was the patriots*
only hope. It was,
however, too late.
Caught between the
Hessians and the Brit-
ish, they were driven
to and fro, cut down by
the dragoons, or bayo-
neted without mercy
by the Hessians and
the Highlanders, who
listened to no plea for
quarter. Some took to
the rocks and trees, and

sold their lives as dearly as they could ; some broke through and
escaped, pursued by the grenadiers to the American lines at Fort
Putnam ; the rest were captured.

Cornwallis hurried on with his corps to close in upon General
Stirling, who was yet unaware of the disaster upon his left, at the
same time firing two guns as a signal for Grant to attack the
front. Stirling, with a part of Smallwood's regiment, composed
of the sons of the best families in Maryland, turned upon this
unexpected foe in his rear, determined by a heroic sacrifice to
give the rest a chance for escape. He accomplished his design ;
all his companions crossed Gowanus Creek in safety ; but he,
himself, was captured, and two hundred and fifty-nine of the

August,!
17^6. J

BATTLE OF LONG ISLAND.

179

PRISON-SHIP AT WALLABOUT.

Marylanders lay dead on the field. Washington beheld the fight
fi-om a neighboring hill, and, wringing his hands in agony, ex-
claimed, '* What brave fellows I must lose this day ! "

It was a sad augury for the Republic which had just issued
its Declaration of Independence. The British loss was but
four hundred and the American nearly one thousand. Of the
latter, the larger part, with Generals Sullivan and Stirling,
were prisoners. The higher officers were soon exchanged,
but the hard lot
of the privates
and lower officers
made the fate of
those who per-
ished in battle to
be envied. Num-
bers were con-
fined in the sugar-
house and the old
hulks at Wall-
about, where aft-
erward so many
other American prisoners suffered untold agonies. Here, fester-
ing with disease, perishing with famine, and loathsome with filth,
deprived of fresh air, water, and every necessary of life, eleven
thousand Americans, it is said, found an untimely grave ere the
war was over.

Had Howe attacked the works at Brooklyn immediately, the
Americans would probably have been utterly destroyed. Fortu-
nately, he delayed for the fleet to co-operate ; but an adverse wind
prevented. For two days the patriots lay helpless, awaiting the
assault. On the second night after the battle there was a dense
fog on the Brooklyn side, while in New York the weather was
clear. A little before midnight, the Americans moved silently
down to the shore and commenced to cross the river, near what is
now the Fulton Ferry. Everything was planned with Washing-
ton's peculiar precision. The guards, sentinels, and outer lines
were ordered to remain quietly at their posts till the very last, that
the enemy might suspect no movement. The stifled murmur of
the camp, as each man took his place in silence for the march to
the river-side, gradually died away in the distance. Suddenly the
roar of a cannon burst upon the night-air. " The effect," say? an

i8o

INDEPENDENCE YEAR.

rAug. 30.
L 177

'76.

American who was present, " was at once alarming and sublime.
If the explosion was within our own lines, the gun was probably
discharged in the act of spiking it, and could have been no less a
matter of speculation to the enemy than to ourselves." The
mystery of that midnight gun remains still unexplained. Fortu-
nately, it failed to rouse the British
camp. Startled by this unexpected
contre- temps y the men reached the
shore. Washington, feeling the ur-
gent necessity for despatch, sent one
of his aides-de-camp to hurry up the
troops in march. By mistake he gave

the order to all who had been left
behind. In the midst of embar-
rassment and confusion at the
ferry, caused by the change of
tide and of wind, which beat back
the sail -boats, the whole rear-
guard arrived. " Good God !

General Mifflin ! " cried Washington, " I fear you have ruined us
by so unseasonably withdrawing the troops from the advance
lines." Mifflin somewhat warmly explained that he had only fol-
lowed orders. *' It is a dreadful mistake," exclaimed Washington;

THE RETREAT FROM LONG ISLAND.

*"77l°'] RETREAT FROM LONG ISLAND. l8l

" and unless you can regain the picket lines before your absence
is discovered, the most disastrous consequences may follow."
Mifflin hastened back, but again the dense fog and Providence
had favored them, so that though nearly an hour had intervened,
the desertion of their posts had not been noticed by the enemy.
At length their own time came, and the last boat pulled from the
shore. The strain of the night was over and the army was saved.
*' What with the greatness of the stake, the darkness of the night,
the uncertainty of the design, and the extreme hazard of the issue,"
says one, " it would be difficult to conceive a more deeply solemn
scene than had transpired."

This timely deliverance moved every pious American heart to
profoundest gratitude, for if once the English fleet had moved up
the East River and cut off communication between New York and
Brooklyn, nothing could have saved the army from capture.
Howe, not supposing an escape possible, had taken no precautions
against such an event. It is said that a tory woman sent her
negro servant to inform the British of the movements of the
patriot army ; but he fell into the hands of the Hessians, who, not
understanding a word of English, kept him until morning. After
daybreak, and the fog had lifted, a British captain, with a handful
of men, stealthily crept down through the fallen trees, and, crawl-
ing over the entrenchments, found them deserted. A troop of
horse hurried to the river and captured the last boat, manned by
three vagabonds who had staid behind for plunder.

Washington, conscious that, with the weakened and now dispir-
ited army under his command, it was impossible to hold New
York, wished to evacuate the city, but Congress would not con-
sent. While awaiting the movements of Howe, Captain Nathan
Hale of Connecticut consented to visit the English camp, and, if
possible, find out their plans. He passed the lines safely and
gained much valuable information, but on his return journey was
recognized by a tory relative, who arrested him. He was taken
to Howe's headquarters, and the next morning executed as a spy.
No clergyman was allowed to visit him, nor was he permitted
even a Bible in his last hours. His farewell letters to his mother
and sister were destroyed. The brutality of his enemies did not,
however, crush his noble spirit, for his last words were, " I only
regret that I have but one life to give to my country."

Having occupied Buchanan's and Montressor's islands, now
Ward's and Randall's, Clinton, with a heavy body of troops,

1 82 INDEPENDENCE YEAR. [^1776^'

crossed the East River under the fire of the fleet early Sunday
morning, September 15, and landed at Kip's Bay, at the foot of
the present Thirty-fourth street. The American troops at this
point fled from the entrenchments. It was all-important that the
position should be held, as Putnam was in the city below with
four thousand men, and time must be gained for them to escape.
Washington came galloping among the fugitives and rallied them.
But when two or three score red-coats came in sight, they broke
again without firing a shot and scattered in the wildest terror.
Losing all self-command at the sight of such cowardice, Wash-
ington dashed forward toward the enemy, exclaiming, *' Are these
the men with whom I am to defend America ? " General Greene
writes of this scene, that the poltroons *' left His Excellency on the
ground, within eighty yards of the enemy, so vexed at the infa-
mous conduct of his troops that he sought death rather than
life." He might indeed have fallen into the hands of the British,
so overcome was he by the dastardly conduct of his soldiers, had
not an aide-de-camp seized his horse by the bridle and hurried
him away. Rallying his self-possession, Washington hastened to
look after the safety of the rest of the army. It was a moment
of extreme peril. Fortunately, on landing, Howe, Clinton, and
some others called at the house of Robert Murray for refresh-
ments. The owner, who was a Quaker, was absent, but his wife,
a staunch whig, regaled them with such an abundance of cake
and wine, and listened with such admirable attention to their
humorous descriptions of her countrymen's panic, that their appe-
tite and vanity got the better of their judgment, and kept them
long at her delightful entertainment. Meanwhile, Putnam was
hurrying his men along the Bloomingdale road, not a mile distant,
under a burning sun, through clouds of dust, and liable at any
moment to be raked by the fire of the English ships anchored in
the Hudson. Thanks to the wit of the good Mrs. Murray, the
British troops came up only in time to send a few parting shots
at their rear-guard. Washington collected his army on Harlem
Heights.

That night the wearied troops lay on the open ground, in the
midst of a cold, driving rain, without tent or shelter. Anxious to
encourage his disheartened men, Washington, the same evening,
ordered Silas Talbot, in charge of a fire-ship in the Hudson, to
make a descent upon the British fleet. Accordingly, this brave
captain, dropping down with the tide, steered his vessel alongside

^1776^] OCCUPATION OF HARLEM HEIGHTS. 1 83

the Renomm^. Stopping to grapple his antagonist surely, and
to make certain of firing the trains of powder, he was himself
fearfully burned before he could drop into the water. It was an
awful scene. The British ships poured their broadsides upon his
little boat as he was rapidly rowed away, while huge billows of
flame bursting out from the fire-ship lighted up the fleet and the
harbor with terrible distinctness. From every side boats put off
to the rescue of the endangered vessel, which was finally brought
safely away. But the entire British fleet slipped their moorings
and quitted the stream.

Early the next morning, the advance guard of the British de-
scended into Harlem Plains, drove in the American pickets, and
sounded their bugles as if in defiance. Washington rode to the
outpost, near where is now the Convent of the Sacred Heart, and
made his preparations to teach them a lesson. Engaging their
attention by a skirmish in front, he sent Colonel Knowlton and
Major Leitch to march around through the woods and cut off" their
retreat. A spirited contest ensued. The enemy were driven
back upon the main body with great loss, while the Continentals
suffered little. The success, however, was saddened by the death
of both the commanding officers, killed in the moment of triumph-
antly leading to victory the troops who the day before had fled so
ignominiously.

The British, on their entry into New York, were received
by the tories with the greatest enthusiasm. Scarcely had they
settled down in what they hoped would be snug winter-quar-
ters, when a fire broke out, which destroyed about five hundred
houses. The whigs were accused of the incendiarism, and the
enraged soldiers, with their bayonets, actually tossed several per-
sons into the flames. They also hanged up one man by his heels
until he died, discovering afterwards, however, that he was a
staunch loyalist.

Washington immediately took great pains to fortify his posi-
tion on Harlem Heights, throwing up a series of entrenchments
reaching from Harlem River to the Hudson, and protecting the
right wing by Fort Washington. The army, however, was in a
desperate condition. The term of service being nearly expired, it
seemed on the eve of dissolution. The disheartened troops aban-
doned their colors by hundreds ; whole regiments even returning
to their homes. The Connecticut militia was reduced from six
thousand to two thousand. "Among many of the subordinate

1 84 INDEPENDENCE YEAR. [^""^jie?^'

officers," says Lossing, "greed usurped the place of patriotism.
Officers were elected on condition that they should throw their
pay and rations into a joint-stock for the benefit of a company ;
surgeons sold recommendations for furloughs for able-bodied men
at sixpence each, and a captain was cashiered for stealing blankets
from his soldiers. Men went out in squads to plunder from friend
or foe, and immorality prevailed throughout the American army."
The soldiers, too, had lost confidence in their principal officers,
Washington alone commanding their fullest respect and unwaver-
ing devotion. The men were true to him, and he was true to
duty. He was already fast becoming the hope of the country.

General Howe, unwilling to attack the American army in its
strong position on Harlem Heights, determined to get in its rear.
Leaving his own lines in front of New York well defended, he ac-
cordingly moved up the Sound, and disembarked his troops at
Throg's Point, Westchester county, while his fleet passed up the
Hudson to cut off* all communication with the western bank of the
river. Washington was prepared for this movement, which he
had already foreseen, and immediately ordered troops to occupy
the causeways leading out from the little peninsula on which the
British were encamped. The bridge being removed, and his ad-
vance thus cut off, Howe crossed in his boats to Pell's Point (Pel-
ham), and landing again, moved toward New Rochelle, where he
was joined by the Hessians under Knyphausen. He now decided
to occupy White Plains. Meanwhile, Washington had evacuated
Manhattan Island, and, crossing to Fordham Heights, marched
northward to head off the British. "The modern Fabius" kept
his army on the high hills along the western bank of the Bronx,
occupying in succession a series of entrenched camps reaching
to White Plains, a distance of thirteen miles. The two armies
marched parallel to each other, and there were frequent skir-
mishes between the outposts, in which Washington took care that
the Americans, who were now in fine spirits, should have the ad-
vantage. Moving on the shorter line, Washington was the first
to reach White Plains, where he threw up breastworks, meanwhile
preparing an entrenched camp in his rear on the heights of North
Castle. Howe, coming up, threw a part of his troops across the
Bronx, and carried Chatterton's Hill. The patriot militia under
McDougal held their rude breastworks over an hour, and then
retreated in good order to the main line. The apparent strength
of Washington's entrenchments, which consisted, it is said, in part.

Oct. 31.-1
1776. J

OPERATIONS IN THE HIGHLANDS.

185

HUDSON RIVER Southern Part.

of heaps of cornstalks covered with dirt and sod, caused Howe to
await his reinforcements under Lord Percy.

On the night of the 31st, amid a tempest of wind and rain,
Washington quietly fell back upon the Heights of North Castle.
On this formidable position, Howe dared
not risk an assault, but withdrew to
Fordham Heights. Washington, ap-
prehending that the British would next
carry the war into the Jerseys, and per-
haps move on Philadelphia, crossed the
Hudson and fixed his head-quarters in
the Highlands, leaving General Lee at
North Castle with about seven thou-
sand men, until Howe's movements
were more fully developed.

During the encampment at White
Plains an incident occurred which curi-
ously illustrates the character of General
Lee, then the most admired officer in
the army, and whose coming had been
looked for as that of " a flaming angel
from heaven." The story is thus told
by Sears : General Lee lodged in a small
house, near which General Washington
occasionally passed when observing the
dispositions of the enemy. One day,
accompanied by some of his officers, he
called on General Lee and dined with
him ; but no sooner was he gone than
Lee, addressing his aide-de-camp, said :
" You must look me out another place,
for I shall have Washington and all his
puppies continually calling upon me,
and they will eat me up." Next day,
seeing the commander-in-chief and his
suite coming that way, and suspecting
another visit, he ordered his servant to
write on the door with chalk, "■ No victuals dressed here to-day."
Perceiving this inscription, General Washington and his officers
rode off, not a little amused at the incident and the oddities of
Lee's character.

Route of American Army. III.
Route of British Army. OOB.

1 86 INDEPENDENCE YEAR. [^

ov. 16,
1776.

The scene now shifts to Fort Washington on the banks of the
Hudson. A little force of three thousand men was here
environed by the enemy in overwhelming numbers. Washington
had been opposed to holding this post after the retreat of the
Continental army, but Congress urged that it must be maintained^
and General Greene, who was in command at Fort Lee, fully
acquiesced in this view. Washington most reluctantly yielded
his own opinion. On the eve before the final attack by the
British, he was crossing the river to personally inspect the forti-
fications, when he met Generals Greene and Putnam. They
assured him that '' the men were in high spirits and all would be
well." It was already too late to evacuate the fort. Howe's
plans were complete.

The advanced line of entrenchments before the fort was about
seven miles long and weakly defended. Early on the morning of
November i6th, this was attacked at four different points. The
Americans, though outnumbered five to one, made a gallant
defence, but Cornwallis carried Laurel Hill ; Percy and Stirling
on the south swept all before them ; while on the north, Knyphau-
sen and Rail with the Hessians, clambering up the heights, catch-
ing hold of branches and bushes, pushing through the under-
brush, and tearing away the fallen trees, under a murderous fire,
pressed to within one hundred paces of the fort and demanded its
surrender. Washington, who was watching the fight from Fort
Lee, " wept with the tenderness of a child " as he saw his men,,
while begging for quarter, bayoneted by the brutal Hessians*
He sent over word, promising to bring off" the garrison in the
night if they could only hold out till then ; but there was no
hope. Magaw, the commander, could get but half an hour's
delay. The troops crowded into the fort were disheartened, and
would no longer man the ramparts. The American flag was
hauled down. Though the garrison had lost but one hundred
and fifty men and the British five hundred, yet twenty-six
hundred prisoners were given up, with artillery and stores which
were invaluable to the patriot cause.

Washington now turned all his thought to the probable cam-
paign in New Jersey. He gave orders to immediately evacuate
Fort Lee, as the plan of preventing the English fleet from ascend-
ing the Hudson was now defeated by the capture of the more im-
portant fort. Greene, however, was too slow. November 2oth,
Cornwallis crossed the Hudson, with a strong detachment, five

•^°v-20 5PgDec.8.] RETREAT THROUGH NEW JERSEY. 187

miles above Fort Lee, his marines dragging his cannon up the
steep ascent to the top of fhe Palisades. A countryman brought
the news to Greene, who sprang from his bed and took to flight
with his men, leaving behind them tents standing, blankets un-
rolled, and camp kettles over the fire. Washington, hearing of
the danger, seized the bridge across the Hackensack, and covered
the retreat so that all the fugitives, except a few stragglers, escaped.

For eighteen long, weary days, Washington and his shattered
army continued to fall back before the conquering forces of Corn-
wallis. Many of the patriots had no shoes, and their footsteps on
the frozen ground were traced in blood. There were but three
thousand men in all, on a level country, with no entrenchments,
and not a tool for throwing up defences. Newark, New Bruns-
wick, Princeton, and Trenton, marked the successive stages in,
this bitter flight. The advance of Cornwallis entered Newark as
Washington's rear-guard was leaving. At Brunswick, the term
of service of the Jersey and Maryland brigades expired, and they
refused to stay longer under the flag. At daybreak, December ist,
the disbanded soldiers scattered over the fields seeking the shelter
of the woods, and the little remnant of the patriot army broke down
the bridge over the Raritan, as Cornwallis's cavalry dashed into
their late camp through the still smoking embers of their fires.
At Princeton, Cornwallis was joined by Howe with fresh troops.
The British unaccountably delayed here for seventeen hours.
When they at last reached Trenton, December 8th, it was only to
see across the deep, angry Delaware, the Continental rear watch-
ing their approach. To cross was impossible, for, under Wash-
ington's orders, every boat for seventy miles along the stream had
been taken to the southern shore and placed under guard.

During this march, messenger after messenger, order after
order, had been sent to General Lee, to hasten from North Castle
to the help of his commander-in-chief. Ambitious, flattered with
the idea of a separate command, and with the praises of those who
were continually contrasting his audacity with the caution of
Washington, Lee lingered behind, hopeful of accomplishing some
brilliant feat. It was not till December 4th that he crossed the
Hudson. He then moved along by the British flank about twenty
miles away, watching for a chance to " reconquer the Jerseys."
But his presumption was soon to be bitterly punished. On the
night of the 12th he stopped at Baskingridge with only a small
guard. He did not breakfast till ten o'clock, and then tarried to

1 88

INDEPENDENCE YEAR.

rNov. to Dec.
L 1776.

write to Gates a letter full of complaint and treason. It was not
yet sealed when a cry of " The British ! " was raised. Instead of
making an effort to escape, the coward came out, bareheaded, in
slippers and blanket-coat, and begged for his life. The dragoons
carried him off in this unsoldierly plight, without change, to their
camp. Sullivan, who had now been exchanged, brought the army
safely to the American quarters. Lee's reputation at this time
was high, and when Congress learned that he was to be tried as a
deserter, it set apart six British officers, then prisoners, to await
his fate. This decided measure caused Lee to be released on
parole. (December, 1777.) — Time has revealed the fact, however,
that while in custody he offered to betray his adopted country.

A carefully-prepared project for the con-
quest of America, in Lee's handwriting,
and endorsed by the secretary of the
Howes, as ''Mr. Lee's Plan," has lately
been discovered in England, which con-
clusively proves his treason.

The condition of the country was now
fearful in the extreme. New Jersey was
overrun by the British army. The whigs
were forced to hide where they could, and
leave their families to the insults of a
brutal soldiery. Houses, barns, and fences
were burned, orchards cut down, crops
and cattle carried off; women were sub-
jected to every species of insult; house-
holds were plundered even of the cradles
in which infants were rocked to sleep ;
and '' children, old men, and women were
left in their shirts, without a blanket to
cover them, under the inclemency of win-
ter." Many of these families had printed protections, signed by
order of the British commander ; but they availed nothing. The
Hessians could not, and the British would not, understand them.
The former were utterly lawless. Without ceremony they entered
dwellings, ordered the family out of their chairs at the breakfast,
dinner, or supper table, and, seating themselves in their places,
demanded the best the house could afford. Their appetite satis-
fied, they roamed through the various apartments, confiscating
every article which caught their greed or fancy, with a simple

HESSIAN GRENADIER.

^Ij'jI^'] campaign in PENNSYLVANIA. 1 89

" Dis is goot for Hesse-man," and happy for the trembling in-
mates if the visit was not concluded with personal indignities.
De Heister was the '' Arch-plunderer," and set the example to all
his followers. He had even the meanness to advertise the house
in which he lived in New York for public sale, although it had
been voluntarily given him for his use by its owner, a true loyalist.
Worse than all, the American soldiers, infected by the general
demoralization, took upon themselves to sack the houses of tories
and loyalists, so that, between both armies, no property was secure.
Washington was finally compelled to issue orders imposing the
severest penalties upon *' any officer found plundering the inhabi-
tants, under the pretence of their being tories."

In November, Howe had issued a proclamation ofifering full
pardon to every one who should within sixty days submit to the
royal authority. It was well timed. For ten days after the
issuing of this proclamation two or three hundred persons daily
flocked to the royal camp to take the oath of allegiance to the
king. Among them were distinguished persons ; as, for example,
Samuel Tucker, who had been president of the Provincial Con-
gress and a most trusted patriot. Even John Dickinson refused
to accept from Delaware a seat in the Continental Congress. To
deepen the gloom still more, Clinton, with four brigades and a
fleet under Parker, sailed for Rhode Island and landed at New-
port the day that Washington crossed the Delaware. That State
was now entirely under their control. Troops that were destined
for Washington were detained in New England, and several
American armed vessels were kept blockaded in Providence
River. Along the Delaware the British army, twenty-seven
thousand strong, admirably equipped, was now reaching its
advance posts opposite Philadelphia, and it was expected that the
English fleet would soon ascend the river. Congress, alarmed,
fled from Philadelphia amidst the jeers of tories and the maledic-
tions of patriots. Howe had already written home, " Peace
must be the consequence of our successes." No wonder that the
hearts of men misgave them in this hour of trial. Yet there were
still patriots whose hopes were bright and whose courage stood
high. John Adams wrote, '' I do not doubt of ultimate success."
Washington remained calm and unmoved, and his serene patience
touched the hearts of all. Misfortune only mellowed and ripened
his magnificent faith, and in all that he said or did there seemed
an inspiration.

190 INDEPENDENCE YEAR. l^me?'

It was in the midst of winter ; the English had gone into can-
tonments reaching from Brunswick to below Burlington. Howe
was in New York, where all was now as merry as a marriage- bell.
British and Royalist vied in making the city gay with festival and
flag, in honor of the approaching decoration of Lord Howe as
Knight of the Bath, conferred upon him in return for his distin-
guished services. The officers in their comfortable quarters were
arranging to pass away the idle hours in theatrical performances
for the benefit of the widows and orphans of the war. Cornwallis,
thinking the war over, had sent his baggage on board a vessel to
return home. Throughout the British army there was the pro-
foundest contempt for the Americans. Grant, who was left in
command of Cornwallis's division, declared that with a corporal's
guard he could march anywhere in the Jerseys. ** Washington's
men," he wrote, " have neither shoes, nor stockings, nor blankets ;
they are almost naked, and are dying of cold and want of food."
So he argued they were not to be feared. How little he realized
the stuff of which patriots are made !

Rail, who was stationed at Trenton with about fifteen hundred
men, principally Hessians, made light of a rumor that he was
likely to be attacked. One of his officers having suggested that
it would be well to throw up some works to provide against a
possibility of assault, he laughed the idea to scorn. " An assault
by the rebels ! Works ! pooh ! Let them come. We'll at them
with the bayonet." " Herr Colonel," urged the more prudent
major, " it will cost almost nothing, and if it does no good, it can
do no harm." Rail only laughed the more heartily at such a
ridiculous project, and, turning on his heel, sauntered off to hear
the musicians, whom he kept almost constantly at their instru-
ments for his own entertainment. '' Whether his men were well
or ill-clad, whether they kept their muskets clean or their ammu-
nition in good order, was of little moment to him ; he never
inquired about it ; but the music ! that was the thing ! the haut-
boys — he never could have enough of them."

Washington was resolved, as he said, " to clip the wings " of
the Hessians, who, by their brutality and cupidity, had excited
such universal detestation. The approaching Christmas, a time
of general festivity among the Germans, offered a favorable op-
portunity. The plans were carefully laid. Washington was to
cross the Delaware about nine miles above Trenton, and, march-
ing down the river, fall upon the troops at that place. Ewing,

Dec. 25-26.
1776.

WASHINGTON CROSSES THE DELAWARE.

191

with the Pennsylvania militia, was to cross a mile below the town,
and, securing the bridge over the Assanpink, a creek flowing
along the south, cut off the retreat of the enemy. General Gates
was to take command of troops under General Putnam, Cadwal-
Jader, and Colonel Reed, and, crossing at Bristol, to fall upon
Count Donop at Bordentown. The night was dark and stormy,
with sleet and snow ; the river angry and threatening, with cakes

WASHINGTON CROSSING THE DELAWARE.

of grinding ice ; so bitter was the cold that two of the men were
frozen stiff in death. Putnam was detained at Philadelphia by
rumors of insurrection. Cadwallader, honest and zealous, came
down to the river, but found the floating ice so thick that he sent
back word he could not cross. Ewing did not even make an
attempt. Reed, discouraged, went into the enemy's lines at Bur-
lington, and, it is said, obtained a protection from Donop. Gates,
impatient of control, disobeyed orders, and set out for Baltimore
to intrigue with Congress. There was different stuff in Washing-
ton and his officers. Here were Stark, Greene, Stirling, Sullivan,
Knox, Monroe, Hamilton — heroes all.

Just as they reached the river, a courier came announcing the
failure of Gates. He had easily traced the track of the army by
the blood on the snow from those whose shoes were broken. All

192 INDEPENDENCE YEAR. l^nii^'

the burden was on Washington, but there was no thought of turn-
ing back. Anxious and troubled, he stood on the shore watching
the boats as they were ferried across by Marblehead boatmen, the
same who had brought the army over from Brooklyn on the
eventful morning of August 30.

It was gray twilight before the men and the guns were in line
on the opposite bank. Then came nine miles march through the
howling storm. Sullivan led his men by the river ; Washington
conducted another column along the upper Pennington road.
The former, finding that the arms of his men were wet, sent a
messenger to Washington to report the fact. The orderly re-
turned, dismayed by the sudden reply he had received, to ''go
back and tell his general to use the bayonet." They were near
the town. It was broad daylight. But the storm had driven even
the sentries inside. As Washington approached the village, he
hailed a wood-chopper by the roadside, and asked, '' Which way
is the Hessian picket?" ^' I don't know," was the surly reply. An
officer interposed, '' You may tell ; this is General Washington."
Dropping his axe, and raising his eyes to heaven, the patriot
laborer exclaimed, " God bless and prosper you ! The picket is in
that house, and yonder stands the sentry." The advance rushed
forward. There was a shout, '' Der feind ! der feind ! Heraus 1
heraus !" (The enemy ! Turn out !) The tardy sentries sought
to make a stand, but the rush swept them along. Just then there
came the sharp rattle of Sullivan's guns from the lower town.
The drums beat the alarm. The town was in an uproar. The
Hessians, aroused, flew to arms, some firing from the windows,
and some hastily forming their ranks. The British light horse
and about five hundred Hessians and Chasseurs fled by the bridge
across the Assanpink.

Rail had received word the day before that he would be at-
tacked that night, and about dusk a party had come swiftly out
of the woods, and, firing upon one of his pickets, departed. He
had ordered his men into their ranks, strengthened the outposts,
and himself scoured the woods. Finding nothing, and thinking
this all that there was to be, he had gone to a Christmas supper and
spent the night in card-playing, drinking, and revelry. At early
dawn a messenger came from a tory with a note bearing news of
the crossing of the river by the American forces. The negro ser-
vant, obeying his master's orders, refused him admittance. Know-
ing the importance of the message, he prevailed on the servant ta

Dfc^|«-] BATTLE OF TRENTON. 1 95

carry the note to the officer. Rail, on receiving it, excited by
wine and the play, thrust it unopened into his pocket. But now
came a different warning. The rattle of the guns was not to be
mistaken. Only half sobered by the sudden surprise and the
bitter cold, he attempted to rally his men. Captain Washington
and Lieutenant Monroe rushed forward with a party and cap-
tured the guns in front of his quarters, as the gunners stood with
lighted matches in their hands ready to fire. Washington and
Sullivan had now joined forces, and Forest's battery of six guns
was opened upon the dismayed Hessians at only three hundred
paces. Washington, himself, was in front directing every move-
ment. Rail, however, extricated his men and drew them up in an
orchard east of the village. By a quick movement. Hand's regi-
ment of riflemen was thrown on his rear. Even now, with a des-
perate resolve, he might have cut his way out ; but he could not
think of fleeing from his despised foes, and the Hessians were loath
to give up the booty they had collected in their quarters. The
word was given to charge. In the midst Rail was struck by a ball
and fell from his horse. His troops, quickly hemmed in by the ex-
ulting Americans, surrendered. It was an hour of triumph. " The
Lord of hosts," wrote the praeses of the Pennsylvania German
Lutherans, '' heard the cries of the distressed, and sent an angel
for their deliverance." Washington, overwhelmed by supreme
joy, clasped his hands and raised his eyes gleaming with thankful-
ness to heaven. Nearly one thousand prisoners, twelve hundred
small arms, six guns, and all the standards of the brigade, were
the trophies of this victory. Had the other detachments carried
out the part assigned to them, there would have been a complete
capture at Trenton, while the various posts along the Delaware
would have shared the same fate.

Washington dared not stay in the quarters so hardly won,
as the enemy, alarmed by the fugitives from the battle, would
soon gather. Before leaving Trenton, however, accompanied
by Greene, he visited Rail. Here the soldier was lost in the
Christian, and the dying hours of the- Hessian officer were
soothed by the sympathy of his generous foe. " The remem-
brance of the deed," says Lossing, " seems to play, like an electric
spark, around the pen of the historian while recording it." Back
through the same storm amid which it had come the little army
now toiled, conveying its prisoners and spoils. Another night of
peril and hardships in recrossing the river brought them again to
13

194

INDEPENDENCE YEAR.

rOec

1776.

their old camp, after an absence of forty hours. Stirling and half
the men were disabled by the exposure.

This daring stroke gave a new impulse to the cause of liberty.
The prestige of invincibility which had hitherto preceded the

WASHINGTON'S VISIT TO GENERAL RALL.

Hessians was broken. Those who had grown lukewarm now
became ardent again. Tories were depressed. The general
whom all thought so slow was found to be bold and dashing
when the proper opportunity arrived. Howe, alarmed, sent
Cornwallis with reinforcements back into Jersey for a winter
campaign. " All our hopes," said Lord George Germain, " were
blasted by the unhappy affair at Trenton." News of the victory
having reached Congress, the president attempted to announce
the fact, but broke down, and could only call upon the secretary
to read Washington's modest despatch.

Meanwhile, Washington's hands had been strengthened by
Congress. He was made virtually a dictator for six months,
being authorized to remove any officer under brigadier-general,
to fill any vacancy, to seize supplies for the use of the army, to

fyVe:] STATE OF THE FINANCES. IQS

arrest the disaffected, and to raise troops at his discretion. The
regiments whose time expired the first of January were induced
to remain by a bounty of ten dollars to each man. The military
chest was empty, but Washington applied to Robert Morris, the
rich patriot merchant of Philadelphia, who had just sent up to
the commander-in-chief a small sum of " hard money," namely,
four hundred and ten Spanish dollars, two crowns ten shillings
and sixpence in English coin, and a French half-crown. The exi-
gencies now required a large amount, and Morris was at a loss
how to meet the sudden demand. The records of the time tell
how, on New-Year's morning, he went from house to house,
rousing the inmates from their beds, to borrow money. He had
no success ; but at last, while walking home from his office,
anxiously considering the case, he met a wealthy Quaker, to
whom he imparted the state of affairs. " Robert, what security
canst thou give? " asked the Quaker. " My note and my honor,"
said Morris. " Robert, thou shalt have it," was the reply ; and
the next morning the sum of fifty thousand dollars was on its way
to Washington.

ROBERT MORRIS.

CHAPTER IV.

THMd) YEAfk OF THE (REVO LUTIOJJ— 1777,

IHE year dawned brightly for the
new Republic. The term, " Great
news from the Jerseys," now grew
into a popular saying. Wide-
spread was the panic among the
British troops. December 25th,
General Griffin, with some Penn-
sylvania militia, finding he was
too weak to join in the proposed
attack, and wishing to do some-
thing in the good cause, managed
to decoy Donop and the Hessians
off on a fruitless chase as far as
Mount Holly. There he left them to find their way back as best
they could. On the 27th, Cadwallader crossed the Delaware.
He was accompanied by Colonel Reed, who had become a warm
patriot again, and was ever after the friend and confidant of
Washington. They found Burlington, Bordentown, and other
posts deserted, the British having fled precipitately. All along
the road the inhabitants were busy tearing down the red rags —
tory signals — from their doors.

Washington having given his men a brief rest, recrossed the
Delaware and took post at Trenton. Here he managed to collect
five thousand men, three-fifths of whom were merchants, mechan-
ics, and farmers, who knew nothing of war, but, inspired with
love of country, had left their warm firesides in the midst of
winter to lie upon the ground without tent or shelter ; to march
through snow and storm ; to encounter privation and danger, if
only they could drive back the foe.

Cornwallis was now pressing forward from Princeton with the

J,* 77^] BATTLE OF PRINCETON. 1 97

flower of the British army. His advance, annoyed by troops
hidden in the woods who stubbornly disputed every inch of
ground, was slow. At Trenton he found Washington's army
drawn up behind the Assanpink, with the bridge, across which
the cavalry escaped on the famous morning of December 26th,
and all the neighboring houses and barns, strongly held. It was
late. Sir William Erskine urged to storm the position that night,
but Cornwallis replied that his troops were weary and he would
" catch the fox in the morning."

Washington's situation was perilous in the extreme. Before
him was a powerful army, behind, an impassable river. To
retreat was to give up Jersey to the enemy. If he stayed he could
hardly hope for victory. He determined to sweep around the
British left, by a circuitous route known as the Quaker road, to
Princeton, where he presumed there were few troops remaining,
and thence, perhaps, gain the English magazines at Brunswick.
The army began to move at midnight. The roads, however, were
muddy and the cannon could not be moved. Suddenly the wind
veered, and within a few hours the ground everywhere became
as hard as a pavement. To conceal the movement, men were set
at throwing up earthworks near the bridge. The sentinels kept
their posts until daybreak, heaping fuel on the blazing fires.

About sunrise, having arrived near Princeton, Washington,
with the main body, turned off by a nearer and side road to the
college, while General Mercer, with his brigade, kept on along
the Quaker road to the turnpike, where he was to break down the
bridge over Stony Brook, and thus intercept any fugitives from
Princeton and any reinforcements from Cornwallis at Trenton.
Just then the British seventeenth regiment and the fifty-fifth
regiment. Colonel Mawhood, had crossed the bridge en route for
Trenton. Catching sight of the patriot guns gleaming in the
sunrise, Mawhood hurried back with his regiment. Both par-
ties rushed to secure an advantageous post on the high ground
at the right, toward Princeton. The Americans, reaching it first,
took position behind a fence, whence they opened fire upon the
British. It was sharply returned. Mercer's horse fell under him.
In the confusion Mawhood charged. The Americans, having no
bayonets, broke. Mercer, while trying to rally them, was
knocked down with the butt end of a musket, and, refusing to ask
for quarter, but defending himself to the last, was repeatedly
stabbed and left for dead. Just then Washington, hearing the

198

THIRD YEAR OF THE REVOLUTION.

rJan._3.

1777.

guns, came to the rescue with the Pennsylvania militia, and, ral-
lying the fugitives, led them to the charge. The raw troops
wavered. Washington, dashing to the front within thirty paces
of the enemy, reined in his horse just as both lines fired a volley.
Fitzgerald, his devoted aide-de-camp, drew his cap over his eyes
that he might not see the death of his beloved general. The
smoke cleared away, and there still stood the commanding form

i:!mr^r^^

THE DEATH OF GENERAL MERCER.

of Washington, calm and imperturbable, as if
on parade. ^' Thank God ! " exclaimed Fitz-
gerald, " your excellency is saved ! " " Away,
and bring up the troops ! The day is our
own ! " cried the heroic commander, his eye
ablaze with inspiration and resolve. Troops now coming up on
every side, the British fell back, and it was only by their desperate
valor and perfect discipline that they escaped over the fields and
fences to the Trenton road and across the brook. Washington,
in the midst of the conflict, marked their superior control and
exclaimed to his officers, " See how those noble fellows fight.
Ah, gentlemen ! when shall we be able to keep an army long
enough together to display a discipline equal to our enemies' ? "

Meanwhile, the rest of the Americans had engaged the fifty-
fifth and fortieth regiments, which had come up too late for the
fight. Again, after a sharp contest, the British were defeated.
A part fled to the Brunswick road, and the rest took refuge in

\fj7^,'] BATTLE OF PRINCETON. 1 99

the college. The artillery opened upon them. The first ball, it
is said, passed through the portrait of George IL, hanging in the
room used for a chapel, neatly taking off the monarch's head.
Captain Moore and his brave companions soon broke open the
door, and the occupants were glad to surrender. The American
loss had been trifling, except in officers, while that of the British
was two hundred killed and wounded and two hundred and
thirty prisoners. Washington, with his wearied men, did not
dare to continue on to Brunswick, but turned toward Morris-
town, where, among the rugged highlands, he would be safe from
pursuit.

That morning's light had revealed to Cornw^allis the smoulder-
ing watch-fires and the deserted camp of the Americans. No one
could tell him whither his enemy had gone. Even the tories,
usually so watchful, were at fault. He heard the guns at Prince-
ton through the keen, frosty air, but mistook it for thunder.
Erskine, however, was not deceived. He exclaimed, " To arms.
General! Washington has outgeneraled us. Let us fly to the
rescue at Princeton." Chagrined at his blunder, and alarmed for
the safety of his magazines at Brunswick, Cornwallis roused his
men and hastened back toward Princeton. As his advance-guard
came in sight of Stony Brook, they saw a party which Washing-
ton had sent back under Major Kelly to tear down the bridge.
Opening fire, they drove off the men ; but the major kept on
chopping desperately at the log which held up the timbers, till at
last it suddenly gave way, and he fell into the stream. Hastily
scrambling out, he started to run, but his wet clothes impeded his
progress, and he was afterward captured. Cornwallis could not
stop to repair the bridge, and so, ordering his men into the water,
they forded the swollen brook, and in their " mail of frozen
clothes " hastened on to Princeton.

Suddenly they were brought to a stand by a shot fired from a
heavy thirty-two pounder in an entrenchment at the entrance of
the village. Supposing the patriots to be there in force, he sent
out horsemen to reconnoitre, and prepared to storm the battery.
The cavalry found the gun deserted. It had been fired by a
straggler from Washington's rear-guard.

The delay at the brook and the breastwork had given time for
the patriots to escape. Cornwallis, dejected and disheartened,
went on to Brunswick. A bolder general might have pursued
the Americans, but the British, just then, were in no mood for any

2CX) THIRD YEAR OF THE REVOLUTION. [ffPf^

rash enterprise against a general whose strategy had proved so
superior to all their discipline and numbers.

Meanwhile the patriot army was toiling forward, the men so
weary from lack of food and sleep that they often dropped down
on the frozen ground, and, sinking into a lethargic slumber, were
aroused only by the blows and shouts of their companions. That
night, chilled and half-clothed, with no tents or blankets, they lay
in the woods at Somerset Court-House, an easy prey, had the
enemy been at hand.

These exploits won for Washington universal applause. He
was declared to be the saver of his country. Europe rang with
praises of the New World's general. Frederick the Great of Prus-
sia declared that his achievements were the most brilliant of any
recorded on the pages of history. Before the sixty days mentioned
in Howe's proclamation had expired, Washington issued a counter
one, commanding that all who had signed the British pardon
should, within thirty days, either withdraw to the English lines
or take the oath of allegiance to the United States, on pain of
being held as common enemies. The excesses of the British army
had aroused the bitterest hatred. The day of deliverance seemed
now to have come, and all classes were animated with the hope of
" expelling these infamous robbers." Armed men sprang up as if
from the ground. Foraging parties were everywhere cut off, and
soon the British dared not venture outside their lines. The day
Washington reached Morristown, one Oliver Spencer, with some
New Jersey militia, routed an equal body of Hessians, taking
thirty-nine prisoners. The same afternoon. Governor Clinton,
-coming down with a small force from Peekskill, captured Hack-
ensack, the garrison making a speedy flight. General Maxwell
took Elizabethtown and one hundred prisoners. General Dickin-
son, with four hundred raw volunteers, forded the river near Som-
erset Court-House, and attacked a foraging party, taking several
prisoners, forty wagons, and one hundred English draught horses.
Before the close of January the British held only Brunswick, Am-
boy, and Paulus Hook.

From the beginning of the war there had been hopes of obtain-
ing aid from Europe. The French were especially well disposed
to the Americans, partly because of hatred to England, and partly
of a love for liberty which was gaining ground among the people
of that country. In 1776, Silas Deane, of Connecticut, had been
sent as commissioner to France. He accomplished little, however.

if^j'] FRANKLIN AT THE FRENCH COURT. 20I

He sent back only about fifteen thousand old muskets, and was
strongly suspected of misappropriating the public funds. He
was afterward followed by Benjamin Franklin and Arthur Lee.
The former, already noted as a philosopher, in his quaint Quaker
garb, calf-skin shoes tied with leather strings, and his plain, repub-
lican manners, was a novelty in high French circles. His wit, his
sturdy common sense, and his fascinating conversation, attracted
universal admiration, and he instantly became the lion of the day.
The fashionable world went crazy over the strange American, who
was formally presented to the king in a plain Manchester velvet
coat — the same which he had worn in England when he appeared
before the Privy Council as agent for Massachusetts — white stock-
ings, with spectacles on his nose, a white hat under his arm, and
his thin gray hair quite innocent of powder. When he visited the
theatre or opera, the brilliant audiences rose to receive and greet
him with wild applause. Elegant feUs were given in his honor,
and of three hundred lovely women, the most beautiful was chosen
to crown his gray hairs with a wreath of laurel and salute his
cheeks with a kiss. Franklin modestly accepted all these ex-
travagant attentions as offered only through him to his beloved
country.

He soon secured a promise of secret assistance. Fifty-six
thousand hogsheads of tobacco were to be furnished the agents
of the French government, upon which an advance of a million
francs was obtained. More than twenty thousand stands of arms
and one thousand barrels of powder reached America during
the ensuing campaign. Quite as valuable were the gallant volun-
teers who espoused our cause and came across the ocean to help
fight the battles of freedom.

Marquis de Lafayette, at a banquet given in honor of the
brother of the English king, first heard the Declaration of Inde-
pendence. The effect upon him was quite contrary to that intended.
Won by its arguments, he from that time joined his hopes and
sympathies to the American side. Yet, how was he to aid it ?
The French nobility, though heartily disliking England, did not
endorse the action of her colonies. He was not yet twenty years
of age ; he had just married a woman whom he tenderly loved ;
his prospects at home for honor and happiness were bright. To
join the patriot army would take him from his native land, his
wife, and all his coveted ambitions, and would lead him into
a struggle that seemed as hopeless as its cause was just. But

202

THIRD YEAR OF THE REVOLUTION.

rAprn_25,

1777.

his zeal for America overcame all this. Other difficulties now
arose. His family objected ; the British minister protested ; the
French king withheld his permission. Still undaunted, he pur-
chased a vessel, fitted it out at his own expense, and, escaping the
officers sent to detain him, crossed the ocean. Arriving at Charles-
ton, he hastened to Philadelphia, and, offering himself to Congress,
asked permission to serve as a volunteer without pay. A few
days after, his acquaintance with Washington began, which soon
ripened into a tender and intimate friendship.

Baron de Kalb accompanied Lafayette. He was a French
officer of skill and experience, and received the appointment of
major-general in the Continental army. He proved a valuable
officer, and met a glorious death amid the rout at Camden.

BARON DE KALB.

Kosciusko, a Pole of noble birth, was commended to Washing-
ton by Franklin, and offered himself " to fight as a volunteer for
American independence." " What can you do ?" asked the com-
mander. ** Try me," was Kosciusko's laconic reply. Washington
was greatly pleased with him, and made him his aid. He became
a colonel in the engineer corps, and superintended the construc-
tion of the works at West Point.

Count Pulaski, a Polish officer who had performed many
daring exploits during the struggles of his native country for
liberty, entered the service of the United States this year.
" Pulaski's American Legion " afterward won great renown and
did excellent service.

The English government was now making every exertion to
fill up the army for the ensuing campaign. The most reliance

Ma^June,] ENGLISH PREPARATIONS FOR THE CAMPAIGN. 203

was placed upon the Hessians ; but the German princes met with
great difficulty in supplying recruits. The cause was unpopular
among the people, and desertions were numerous. Officers
picked up men anywhere they could find them. Foreigners, vag-
abonds, and loose fellows — even unprotected travelers were forced
into the ranks. Troops had to be driven on shipboard at the
point of the bayonet. The regiments of Anspach, for example,
could not be trusted with arms or ammunition. When it came to
embarking, the guard was unable to get them aboard, and the
landgrave himself was sent for in all haste. He personally took
the place of driver, and, by the power of his traditional authority,
at last succeeded in forcing the reluctant and rebellious soldiers
into the boats. Frederick of Prussia, we are told, was disgusted
with this whole mercenary scheme. Metternich, as the repre-
sentative of the Austrian court, reclaimed the subjects of that
country. Thus the English army secured only about enough
Hessians to make up the loss at Trenton.

The most flattering proposals were made to induce the cap-
tured American sailors to enlist in the British navy. The reply
of one of them, Nathan Coffin, is worthy of immortality, " Hang
me to the yard-arm of your ship if you will, but do not ask me to
become a traitor to my country."

Enlistments among the tories were encouraged. Tryon, who
was a fitting tool, was put in charge of this detestable work.
Commissions were issued freely. De Lancey of New York and
Skinner of New Jersey were made brigadiers. It was a common
boast of the loyalists that as many of the inhabitants of the States
w^ere taken into the pay of the crown as into that of Congress.
This was doubtless an exaggeration, yet Sabine, in his '^ Loyalists
of the American Revolution," estimates twenty-five thousand as a
low figure for the total number who thus not only proved recreant
to the cause of liberty, but took up arms against it in the service
of the tyrant.

The tomahawk and scalping-knife were also called in to aid
the king in this emergency. The entire frontier, it was hoped,
would resound with the war-whoop, as in the terrible days of
Philip and Pontiac. The merciful provisions of Sir Guy Carle-
ton, in command in Canada, for the employment of the Indians,
were revoked. *' The Ottawas, the Chippewas, the Wyandottes,
the Shawnees, the Senecas, the Delawares, and the Pottawato-
mies," wrote the secretary. Lord Germain, " are no longer to be

204 THIRD YEAR OF THE REVOLUTION. VnV:

restrained." The employment of such allies was severely de-
nounced by the opposition in the British parliament. '^ If I were
an American, as I am an Englishman," exclaimed Pitt in an
eloquent speech on the subject, " while a foreign troop was landed
in my country, I never would lay down my arms — never, never^
never!"

This year witnessed the first celebration of the signing of the
Declaration of Independence. The Pennsylvania Journal of that
date gives a glowing description of the festivities in Philadelphia.
The firing of salutes, music from the Hessian band taken at Tren-
ton, feux de joie from a corps of British deserters, a congressional
dinner with toasts for the living and the dead, and a military re-
view, filled up the day. In the evening there were the ringing
of bells and an exhibition of fireworks — the latter beginning and
ending with the flight of thirteen rockets. *' Thus," says the
writer, " may the Fourth of July, that glorious and ever-memo-
rable day, be celebrated through America by the sons of freedom
from age to age, till time shall be no more. Amen and Amen! "

George III., we are told, was interested in the minutest detail
of the American war. The plan for the campaign of 1777, which
was adopted in his closet, was for General Howe to take care of
Washington and his army and seize Philadelphia ; General Bur-
goyne was to move from Canada by the old French and Indian
war route up Lake Champlain, while Clinton was to ascend the
Hudson from New York ; thus all intercourse between New Eng-
land and the other States would be cut off", and the navigation of
the Hudson secured. Burgoyne left Canada with a force of, per-
haps, ten thousand British and Indians. Near Crown Point he
gave a grand feast to the chiefs of the Six Nations, after which
four hundred of their warriors took the war-path with the British
general. Here a grandiloquent proclamation was issued, declar-
ing how difficult it would be to restrain his savage allies in case
any resistarice should be offered to the progress of the royal forces
under his command.

At evening on the ist of July, he appeared before Fort Ticon-
deroga. St. Clair, who was in command at that point, had
written not long before : " Should the enemy attack us they will
go back faster than they came." On the 5th, the British dragged
a battery of heavy guns up Mount Defiance, on the opposite side
of the outlet, which commanded both Ticonderoga and Fort Inde-
pendence, but was supposed to be inaccessible to artillery. St.

July 6

uly 6,-]
17^7. J

RECAPTURE OF TICONDEROGA.

205

Clair had no chance of defence. That night, with his garrison of
three thousand men, he escaped in the darkness by land and water,
taking only such stores as his boats could carry. The burning of
his residence at Fort Independence by General De Fermoy, in vio-
lation of express orders, revealed to the enemy what was trans-
piring. General Eraser
pushed on eagerly in pur-
suit. Burgoyne, at day-
break, took possession of
the forts. It was the third
time Fort Ticonderoga
had been captured with-
out bloodshed.

At sunrise on the 7th,
Fraser overtook the rear-
guard of the Americans
at Hubbardton while
they were at breakfast.
Fraser had only about
eight hundred men ; while
there were three regi-
ments of the Americans
under Seth Warner, Fran-
cis, and Hale. The last, with his men, retired in the direction of
Castleton, and en route meeting a body of the British, surren-
dered without resistance. Warner and Francis gallantly rallied
the remainder, about seven hundred in number, and turning upon
the British, seemed on the point of winning the day ; but Riede-
sel, hearing the firing, came up with a body of Hessians, his
music playing and his men singing a battle-hymn. The Ameri-
cans were forced to give way. Francis, after having charged
three times, was killed. Over one hundred fell and two hundred
were taken prisoners. Those who escaped scattered through the
woods. It was two days before Warner, with ninety men,
reached St. Clair.

Meanwhile, Burgoyne sent a fleet up the lake. It overtook the
American flotilla bearing the stores from Ticonderoga, just as,
unsuspicious of danger, it moored in the harbor at Whitehall.
The Americans blew up some of the galleys, abandoned the
others with the bateaux, set fire to the buildings, and fled back
to join General Schuyler at Fort Edward. A British regiment

KUINS OF FORT TICONDEROGA.

206 THIRD YEAR OF THE REVOLUTION. [fj^f

pursued them as far as Fort Ann. The garrison of that post,
under Colonel Long, consisted of about five hundred convales-
cents and invalids. He gallantly came out to meet the enemy,
and took post in a ravine about a mile in front of his works. The
British recoiled from his sharp fire and retreated to a neighboring
hill. Following them up, he would have utterly defeated them if
his ammunition had held out. As it was, he inflicted a loss of
fifty men. When the English came back with reinforcements, it
was only to find the fort burned to the ground and the garrison
escaped.

The fall of Ticonderoga and the defeat of the army, with the
loss of two hundred pieces of artillery, fell upon the country like
a thunderbolt from the clear sky. ** We shall never be able to
defend a fort," wrote John Adams, ** till we shoot a general."
A ridiculous story obtained credence that Burgoyne had paid
• Schuyler and St. Clair for their treachery, in silver bullets fired
into the American camp. Possibilities of Schuyler's treachery
and reports of his cowardice and incapacity were freely circu-
lated.

The entire country between Whitehall and Fort Edward was
a wilderness, traversed by a single military road leading through
extensive woods and morasses and crossing many creeks. Bur-
goyne, on his advance, found his path obstructed by fallen trees,
broken-down bridges, and ruined causeways. Beyond this,
Schuyler did nothing to prevent the British progress, and on the
29th the cross of St. George was planted on the banks of the
Hudson. During the march, the English army had built with
infinite toil more than forty bridges and a log causeway over two
miles long. This labor, under the hot sun of July, by men bur-
dened with their equipments and annoyed by swarms of insects,
had thoroughly exhausted their strength. There was no enemy,
however, to dispute their way. Fort Edward could not be held,
and the Americans retired, first to Saratoga, then to Stillwater,
and finally to the islands in the Hudson at the mouth of the
Mohawk. In spite of this timidity and lack of skill, Burgoyne's
disastrous fate was fast unfolding itself

Before leaving Canada, he had sent Colonel St. Leger to
ravage the Mohawk Valley, thus creating a diversion in his favor,
and then to meet him at Albany. St. Leger had induced one
thousand Indians to join his ranks as he marched southward from
Oswego. With Brandt and his Mohawk Indians, Johnson and his

Auk. 6

V^yf'] BATTLE OF ORISKANY. 207

tories, and Butler and his rangers, he laid siege to Fort Schuyler,
late Fort Stanwix, now Rome. This was at that time the extreme
western settlement of the State. It was a log fortification, built
on rising ground, and held by two New York regiments under
Gansevoort and Willett.

General Herkimer, knowing that the fort was not provisioned
or equipped for a siege, raised a body of militia from Tryon
county, and set out for its relief. At Oriskany they fell into an
ambuscade. While carelessly marching through the woods,
" Johnson's Greens " attacked them in front and Brandt's Indians
on both flanks. It was a true battle of the wilderness. The
militia, royalists, and savages were soon so intermingled that
there was no room to use fire-arms. The white man and Indian,
wrestling in mortal conflict, striking with bayonet, hatchet, and
hunting-knife, often fell in the shade of the forest, " their left hands
clenched in each other's hair, their right grasping, in a grip of
death, the knife plunged in each other's bosom." Herkimer was
mortally wounded, but remained till the end giving orders and
encouraging his companions. About four hundred of the Ameri-
cans finally retreated to a knoll near by, where, from behind trees
and logs, they held their ground until the Indians, suddenly
shouting " Oonah ! Oonah ! " hastened back to save their camp.

While this struggle was going on, Lieutenant-Colonel Willett,
with a part of the garrison, had made a daring sally toward the
scene of conflict. They drove all before them — rangers, tories,
savages, and squaws. Hearing, however, of Herkimer's mis-
fortune, they went back to the fort without losing a man, carry-
ing with them kettles, furs, five flags, and a few prisoners.

When the enemy first appeared, the garrison was without a
flag, but with true American ingenuity, one had been straightway
improvised. Shirts were cut up to form the white stripes, bits of
scarlet cloth were sewed together to supply the red, and a blue
cloth cloak served as a ground for the stars. Beneath this patch-
work streamer they now proudly placed the colors they had won.
" It was the first time," says Bancroft, " that a captured banner
floated under the stars and stripes."

It is interesting, in this connection, to notice the origin of our
flag. In early times the English colonies naturally displayed the
flag of the mother-country. We read that in 1636, however,
Endicott, the governor of Massachusetts, cut out the cross of St.
George as a *' Romish symbol," and the king's arms were after^

208 THIRD YEAR OF THE REVOLUTION. [''""i777?^'

ward substituted for this emblem, so obnoxious to the Puritans.
In 1 65 1, with the commonwealth came a revival of the old standard
of St. George. At the opening of the Revolution the colonies
used a great variety of flags. At Bunker Hill it is probable there
was no American banner flying. Considering themselves still a
part of the British empire, the patriots frequently fought under
the ** Union Jack." While Washington was in command at
Cambridge he raised a flag, called the '' Great Union," which
consisted of thirteen red and white stripes, having at the corner
the cross of the English flag. The Americans carried this banner
when they entered Boston after its evacuation by General Howe;
when they fled through New Jersey before the conquering
enemy ; and when they crossed the Delaware 'mid snow and ice,
and charged at Trenton in the early dawn. The vessels of the
infant navy bore a white flag with a green pine-tree in the corner.
The United States were free a long time before they assumed a
distinctive flag. June 17th of this year Congress voted that *nhe
flag of the thirteen United States be thirteen stripes, alternate
red and white, and the union be thirteen white stars in the blue
field." The latter were arranged in a circle. Paul Jones, who
afterward became famous, was the first to hoist the new flag over
an American ship-of-war, he having previously displayed it to a.
crowd assembled on the banks of the Schuylkill, while he sailed
up and down in a small boat, with the patriotic banner proudly
unfurled.

Finding that Fort Schuyler could not hold out much longer,
Colonel Willett and a friend. Lieutenant Stockwell, determined to
inform Schuyler of the situation. One dark, stormy night they
crept from the entrenchments, passed through the camp, escaped
sentinels and Indians, crossed the Mohawk on a log, and reached
the American army in safety.

Arnold, always ready for a desperate service, volunteered^
with eight hundred men, to go to the relief. He accomplished
his mission by a stratagem. A half-witted boy, who had been
taken prisoner, was promised his freedom if he would spread the
report among St. Leger's troops that a large body of Americans
was close at hand. Having cut holes in his clothes, he accord-
ingly ran breathless into the camp of the besiegers, showing the
bullet holes and describing his narrow escape from the enemy.
When asked their number, he mysteriously pointed upward to
the leaves on the trees. The Indians and British were so fright-

Aug. 13, -|
1777. J

RELIEF OF FORT SCHUYLER.

209

ened that, though Arnold was yet forty miles away, they fled in a
panic, leaving their tents and artillery behind them.

Such was the difficulty of getting supplies through the wilder-
ness from Lake George, that after two weeks hard labor Burgoyne
had only secured four days provisions. Learning that the Amer-

THE ALARM AT FORT SCHUYLER.

leans had collected a quantity of stores at Bennington, he sent
Colonel Baum with about eight hundred Hessians, Canadians, and
Indians to seize them, collect horses, recruit royalists, and thence
rejoin the army at Albany. Fortunately, on the very day, August
13th, that Baum set out, General Stark, who was in command of
a brigade of New Hampshire militia, arrived at Bennington. He
had just refused to join General Schuyler, on the ground that his
troops were raised for the defence of the State, and he had been
promised a separate command. This act of insubordination, which
might have been fatal, now proved the salvation of the country.
On receiving news of the approach of the British, Stark immedi-
ately forwarded word to Colonel Warner to come to his aid with
the Green Mountain Boys. Nearing Bennington, Baum discov-
ered a reconnoitering party of Americans, and entrenching him-
self on high ground in a bend of the Walloomscoick River, sent
back to Burgoyne for reinforcements. The next day was so rainy,
that all movements were prevented.

2IO THIRD YEAR OF THE REVOLUTION. l^'ffjj^

During the night of the 15th a body of Berkshire militia ar-
rived. Rev. Mr. Allen, of Pittsfield, and a large number of his
church members were among them. This gentleman was burn-
ing to display his patriotic zeal, and before daybreak, while the
clouds were still pouring, he impatiently sought Stark. " Now,
general," he said, ''the Berkshire people have been called out
several times before, without having a chance to fight, and if you
do not give it to them this time, they will never turn out again."
" Well," answered the general, with a secret satisfaction at the
pluck of his troops, " do you wish to march now, while it is dark
and raining ?" ** No, not just this moment," was the reply. *' Then
just wait till the Lord gives us sunshine," returned Stark, " and if
I do not give you fighting enough, I'll never ask you to come out
again."

The morning dawned clear, and both sides prepared for action.
About noon. Stark developed his plan. Detachments were sent right
and left to the rear of the enemy's main post on the heights. Baum,
seeing men in their shirt-sleeves and with simple fowling-pieces
collecting behind his camp, mistook them for country people, and
thought nothing of it. Another detachment was then sent to Baum's
right, while his attention was attracted by a feigned attack upon a
tory entrenchment at the ford in front. At three o'clock the troops
in the rear dashed up the hill. At the first volley Stark ordered a
charge. As they reached the top they caught sight of the British
lines forming for battle. ** There are the red-coats," he shouted ;
" we beat them to-day, or Betty Stark is a widow." On his men
dashed, sweeping the tories before them. There was no flinching.
With perfect confidence in their leader, though destitute of can-
non, bayonets, and discipline, they closed in upon the Hessians on
all sides. The sharp-shooters crept up within eight paces to pick
off the cannoneers. The Germans fought with desperate valor,
but their ammunition giving out, the militia scaled the works.
Baum ordered his men to break out with bayonet and sword, but
he was soon mortally wounded, and his men surrendered. The
Indians had fled with horrible yells early in the day.

Just as the battle was won, however, it seemed to be lost. The
militia had dispersed to plunder the camp when Breyman came
up with the reinforcements from Burgoyne. An hour earlier and
they might have claimed the day. They now rallied the fugitives
and pushed for Baum's entrenchments. At this moment Warner
arrived with his regiment. Stark collected the militia, and again

*1f^7?] BATTLE OF BENNINGTON. 211

the battle raged fiercely as ever. At sunset the Hessians ordered
a retreat, leaving cannon and wounded. The exulting Americans
followed them till night-fall. Darkness alone saved them from
annihilation. The patriots lost only seventy all told, while the
British loss was twice as great, besides about seven hundred
prisoners.

An incident illustrates the spirit of the men that day. One old
man had five sons in the patriot army. A neighbor, just from the
field, told him that one had been unfortunate. " Has he proved
a coward or a traitor ? " asked the father. " O no ; he fought
bravely," was the answer; "but he has fallen." "Ah," said the
father, " then I am satisfied."

The flight of St. Leger and the defeat at Bennington aroused
the people from their depression, and inspired them with hope of
success. The atrocities committed by the Indians also did much
to inflame them with hatred of a government which let loose upon
them such savage foes. None of their bloody acts caused more
general execration than the murder of Jane McCrea. This young
lady was the betrothed of a Captain Jones of the British army.
She lived near Fort Edward in the family of her brother, who,
being a whig, started for Albany on Burgoyne's approach. But
she, hoping to meet her lover, lingered at the house of Mrs.
McNeil, a staunch royalist, and a cousin of the British General
Fraser. Early one morning the house was surprised by Indians,
who dragged forth the inmates and hurried them away toward
Burgoyne's camp. Mrs. McNeil arrived there in safety. A short
time after, another party came in with fresh scalps, among which
she recognized the long, glossy hair of her friend. The savages,
on being charged with her murder, declared that she had been
killed by a chance shot from a pursuing party, whereupon they
had scalped her to secure the bounty. The precise truth has
never been known. This massacre was probably no more hor-
rible than many others. But it was susceptible of embellishment,
and everywhere produced a deep impression. Many patriots
were led to join the army, and many royalists to desert a cause
which permitted such atrocities.

The New England troops were unwilling to serve under
Schuyler, who seemed to have little confidence in them, and the
militia consequently came in but slowly. Gates, who was am-
bitious of a separate command, and who had been superseded
by Schuyler in the charge of this department, was constantly

212

THIRD YEAR OF THE REVOLUTION.

^Aug.SepU

intriguing to oust his rival. Congress lacked faith in Schuyler's
abilities, and, after the fall of Ticonderoga, even proposed to
change all the higher officers of the northern army. Washington
was desired to nominate a successor to Schuyler, but declined.
With noble self-sacrifice, though he was himself confronted by a
far larger army than was Schuyler, he sent him two brigades of
his best troops, and ordered thither Morgan with his incompara-
ble riflemen ; Lincoln, who was popular with the eastern militia ;
and Arnold, famous for his desperate daring. He also wrote
personally to the governors of the New England States, urging
them to rally in this emergency. Soon the yeomanry began to
pour into camp, all eager, even anxious, for a battle. Such was
the dissatisfaction with Schuyler, that
Gates was now appointed to take his yfij^^""^^

place. However much the former may
have lacked the abilities of a great gen-
eral, he proved

MRS. SCHUYLER SETTING THE GRAIN-FIELDS ON FIRE.

a true patriot. No spirit of jealousy at the success of his rival
actuated him. He magnanimously threw all his influence in favor
of Gates, made known to him his plans and efficiently aided in
their execution. His great heart had no more room for envy than
for selfishness. During the retreat he had given orders to Mrs.
Schuyler to set fire to his fields of grain at Saratoga, to prevent
the possibility of their falling into the enemy's hands.

Burgoyne's position was every day becoming more embarrass-
ing. The Canadians and tories were discouraged. The Indians,

'*?77?'] FIRST BATTLE OF SARATOGA. 313

indignant at the humane efforts Burgoyne had made to restrain
their ferocity, were rapidly deserting. His misfortunes weighed
like an incubus on the morale of the whole army. His instruc-
tions, however, were positive. He expected Clinton had already
ascended the Hudson to co-operate with him, and so, against the
judgment of his best officers, determined to proceed. Provisions
for about thirty days had been painfully gathered, and with his
army of six thousand men, all veterans, splendidly equipped, and
with a fine artillery, he promised yet to " eat his Christmas dinner
in Albany."

Meanwhile, the American army, at least ten thousand strong,
well armed, burning with patriotism and eager for the fray, had
advanced to Bemis's Heights, near Stillwater. Gates was unskil-
ful, and perhaps cowardly, while Schuyler's friends were indig-
nant at his displacement ; but Arnold, Morgan, Poor, Learned,
Fellows, Dearborn, Cilley, Cook, Scammel, Glover, and others
were there, and no one in the patriot ranks had a doubt. Bur-
goyne crossed the Hudson on the 13th and 14th, and encamped
at Saratoga; but, delayed by bad roads and broken bridges, in
four days he did not progress as many miles. It was not until the
1 8th that he reached Wilbur's Basin, two miles from Bemis's
Heights, and proposed to attack the Americans. Their position
was a very strong one, and, under Kosciusko's direction, had
been carefully fortified. The line of entrenchments was circular
in form, with the right resting on the river and the left on a ridge
of hills. About ten o'clock the next forenoon the British army
advanced in three columns. The left wing, with the artillery
under Phillips and Riedesel, was to move along the flat by the
river ; Burgoyne himself commanded the centre ; and Fraser led
the right by a circuit upon the ridge to attack the American left
wing. Upon the front and flanks of the columns hung tories,
Canadians, and Indians. Gates desired to await an attack. At
the urgent solicitation of Arnold, however, he finally sent out
Morgan with his riflemen and Major Dearborn with the infantry.
The former passed unobserved through the wood, but driving
back a party of Canadians and Indians too vigorously, he unex-
pectedly came upon the main body of the English. His men
were scattered, and for a moment he was left almost alone. A
shrill whistle soon brought his sharp-shooters around him. Cilley
and Scammel coming to his aid with the New Hampshire regi-
ments, a sharp contest ensued. The battle now lulled, Phillips

214 THIRD YEAR OF THE REVOLUTION. [^!777.^'

bringing up artillery on one side and Cook the Connecticut
militia on the other.

At three o'clock the struggle began again, not far from the
same point. Gates had no plan ; there was consequently no
manoeuvring. Both sides were on gentle eminences, partly shel-
tered by wood, and out of gun-shot of each other ; between them
was an open field. The British advanced to clear the wood of the
Americans ; they sallied forth and drove the English from their
guns, who, in turn, rallied. Thus the tide of battle ebbed to and
fro. The cannon were taken and retaken several times. Too late
to accomplish anything, Learned with a brigade went around to
attack the British in the rear; but Riedesel with some Hessians
climbed the hill and fell upon the American flank. Darkness now
coming on, the patriots quietly drew back to their entrenchments.
Twice during the evening, however, there were sharp skirmishes,
and the last American did not leave the field until eleven o'clock.
The English lay on their arms near by, and technically claimed
the victory, though they had not gained their end, which was to
dislodge the Americans from their position ; while the latter had
gained theirs by preventing the British from advancing. Each
side, however, took to itself the honor, and supposed that with a
part of its forces it had beaten the whole of the hostile band. In
fact, only about three thousand of either army were engaged. The
American loss was not far from four hundred, and the English five
hundred. The fire of the American riflemen was excessively
annoying. They climbed the trees and picked off" the English
officers. A bullet designed for Burgoyne struck the arm of an
aid who was just handing him a letter. In one battery three-
fourths of the artillerymen were killed or wounded, and every
officer save one was struck.

The next morning Arnold urged that the work should be
followed up, and Burgoyne's shattered forces be attacked at once
before they had time to prepare entrenchments or to recover
from their exhaustion. Gates resented the interference. A
quarrel ensued, and Arnold demanded a pass to go to General
Washington, which was granted. Seeing how discreditable it
would be to leave just before a battle, Arnold finally remained in
his tent, but without any troops, as the command of the right
wing was given to Lincoln.

For over two weeks both armies lay in their camps, which
were only a cannon-shot apart, carefully fortifying themselves and

^fV?^'] SECOND BATTLE OF SARATOGA. . 21$

watching an opportunity to catch each other at a disadvantage.
Burgoyne's position was now perilous in the extreme. He had
six or eight hundred sick and wounded in hospital ; his horses
were weakened by work and want ; and he was forced to cut off
one-third of the daily rations of his men. Patriot bands swarmed
everywhere, breaking down bridges and harassing the pickets
and foraging parties. Neither officer nor soldier dared to remove
his clothes at any time, and the camp was in almost constant
alarm. One night twenty young farmers, residing near by,
resolved to capture the enemy's advance picket-guard. Armed
with fowling-pieces, they marched silently through the woods
until they were within a few yards of the station. They then
rushed out from the bushes, the captain blowing an old horse-
trumpet and the men yelling. There was no time for the senti-
nel's hail. " Ground your arms, or you are all dead men ! '*
cried the patriot captain. Thinking that a large force had fallen
upon them, the picket obeyed. The young farmers, with all the
parade of regulars, led back to the American camp over thirty
British soldiers.

Burgoyne was in constant hope of being relieved by the
promised expedition of Clinton up the Hudson River, as in that
event Gates would necessarily send a part of his army to the
defence of Albany. On the 21st Burgoyne received a letter in
cipher from Clinton, stating that he was about to start. Greatly
encouraged thereby, he replied that he could hold on till Novem-
ber 1 2th. Every day, however, the net of his difficulties was drawn
about him more and more tightly. The time came when he must
either fight or fly. On the 7th of October he attempted a recon-
noissance in force, in order to cover a large foraging party, and
also, if opportunity offered, to turn the left of the American line.
For this service fifteen hundred picked men were selected. Bur-
goyne led them in person, and under him were Fraser, Riedesel,
and Phillips. Marching out of camp, they formed in double ranks
on a low ridge, less than a mile northwest of the American camp,
and awaited events. Meanwhile the foragers were busy getting
supplies, and the officers were scanning the patriot lines.

Morgan with his riflemen. Poor's New Hampshire brigade,
and Dearborn's light infantry were thereupon ordered to attack
simultaneously the enemy's right and left flanks. Steadily the
New Hampshire men mounted up the slope, received one volley,
and then with a shout dashed forward to the very mouth of the

2l6 THIRD YEAR OF THE REVOLUTION. Kyy^.'

cannon. So fierce was the contest that one piece was taken and
retaken several times. Colonel Cilley leaped upon it, waved his
sword, " dedicating the gun to the American cause," and then,
with their own ammunition, opened it upon the enemy. It was
the very inspiration of courage. Major Ackland was severely
wounded. The British lines broke. Meanwhile, Morgan had
driven back Fraser, who was covering the English right, and
fallen on that flank so impetuously that it was already in retreat.
Arnold, who was chafing in camp and anxious " to right himself,"
as he said, *' with the sword," sprang to his saddle and rushed
into the fray. ** He will do some rash thing," shouted Gates, and
ordered his aid, Major Armstrong, to call him back ; but Arnold,
suspecting the message, put spurs to his beautiful brown horse,
named Warren after the hero of Bunker Hill, and was soon out
of reach. He had no right to fight, much less to lead, but his
Tank and valor gave him authority at once. Dashing to the head
of a part of Learned's brigade, where he was received with
cheers by his old command, he ordered a charge on the centre of
the British line. Leading the onset, delivering his orders in
person where the bullets flew thickest, he galloped to and fro
over the field as if possessed by the very demon of battle. In
his rage he struck an American officer on the head with his sword
without being conscious of the fact, as he afterward declared.
His headlong valor inspired the troops with desperate courage.
At the second charge the English gave way.

Fraser was busy forming another.line in the rear. Brave to a
fault and chivalric in his sense of duty, this gallant officer was the
mind and soul of the British army. Morgan saw that he alone
stood between the Americans and victory. Calling to him some
of his best men, he said, " That gallant officer is General Fraser.
I admire and honor him ; but he must die. Stand among those
bushes and do your duty." Mounted on an iron-gray charger
and dressed in full uniform, Fraser was a conspicuous mark. A
bullet cut the crupper of his horse and another his mane. " You
are singled out, general," said his aide-de-camp ; '' had you not
better shift your ground ? " " My duty forbids me to fly from
danger," was the reply. A moment after he fell mortally
wounded.

Just then the New York men under Ten Broeck, coming on
the field, swept all before them. Burgoyne sought to stay the
tide ; a bullet went through his hat and another tore his vest.

Oct. 7,n

1777. J

SECOND BATTLE OF SARATOGA.

217

The Americans urged the pursuit up to the very entrenchments.
Arnold, maddened by the fight, stormed the camp of the light
infantry under Earl Balcarras, the strongest part of the English
line. For an hour the useless struggle continued. Repulsed, he
rode to the American left, all the way exposed to the cross-fire of
both armies, and ordered a general assault on the British right.

GENERAL ERASER COVERED BY SHARP-SHOOTERS.

A stockade was carried, and Breyman with his Germans was cut
off from the main body of the British army. As Arnold dashed
into a sally-port, the Hessians fired a parting volley, wounding
him in the same leg as at Quebec. At that moment Armstrong
came up with Gates's order. He was borne from the field, but
he had already gained a victory while his commander stayed in
his tent. Breyman being mortally wounded, his men lost heart
and over two hundred surrendered. This position was the key
to the British line. Burgoyne tried to rally his men to retake it ;
but darkness closed the hard-fought contest. The Americans lay
on their arms ready to renew the struggle in the morning.

During the night, Burgoyne evacuated a part of his entrench-
ments, and gathered his army upon the heights around the hos-
pital, with the river in the rear and a deep ravine in front. His
new position was so strong that Gates did not deem it best to
hazard an attack. Eraser, in his dying moments, requested that he
might be buried at six in the evening on the top of a little knoll in

2l8 THIRD YEAR OF THE REVOLUTION. l^mi^'

the great redoubt. Just at sunset his body was borne thither ac-
companied by Burgoyne, Phillips, and Riedesel. The American
cannoneers were attracted by the presence of the officers, and,
ignorant of the sad ceremony which was being enacted, their balls
fell thick about the chaplain as he read the solemn burial service.
So Fraser was entombed, as he had died, amid the roar of artillery.

Burgoyne now renewed the retreat. The rain fell in torrents,
and the roads were so badly cut up that he did not reach Sara-
toga, a distance of six miles, until the next night. The men, too
much exhausted to procure wood or build fires, lay down on the
ground and slept in the fast-falling rain. On the loth they crossed
the Fishkill and made their last encampment. The fine house and
mills of General Schuyler at the ford were burned by order of
General Burgoyne. The British were now hemmed in on all
sides. The end was near.

Just at this time occurred a circumstance which illustrates the
small events on which depend the fortunes of war. Gates received
word that Burgoyne had sent on the bulk of his army toward the
north. He determined at once to cut off the rear-guard still left
in camp. The British general in some manner became advised of
the plan, and put his best troops in ambush, where he could fire
upon the Americans at the very moment of victory. All appar-
ently went well. A patriot brigade had crossed the creek and
another was just entering, a dense fog concealing the movement.
Just then a British deserter came in and revealed the plot. Mes-
sengers were hurried out and the troops ordered back, but not
without some loss. A few minutes more, and the success of the
whole campaign would have been imperiled.

A reconnoitering party sent on to Fort Edward reported that
the crossing was held by General Stark. The opposite bank of
the Hudson was lined with the Americans. Bateaux containing
part of their scanty stock of provisions had been seized, the rest
being saved only by bringing them up the steep bank under a
heavy cannonade. No word was received from General Clinton,
Every part of the camp was searched out by the American fire.
Water was scarce, and no one dared to get it, until a woman
volunteered, when the sharpshooters, respecting her sex, let her
pass unharmed. While a council of war held in Burgoyne's tent
was considering the necessity of a surrender, several grape-shot
struck near, and an eighteen-pound cannon-ball passed over the
table around which the officers sat. Under these circumstances

Oct. I7,-|
1777. J

SURRENDER OF BURGOYNE.

219

MONTREAL

a decision was quickly made. They resolved to treat for capitu-
lation. At first Gates demanded an unconditional surrender ; but
knowing that Clinton had captured the forts in the Highlands
commanding the passage of the Hudson, he consented that the
British should be taken to Boston and be
allowed to return to England, on condi-
tion of not serving in the war again until
exchanged. When Burgoyne heard from
a deserter of Clinton's progress, he hesi-
tated to sign the conditions; but Gates
drew up his army and threatened to open
fire. Whereupon Burgoyne yielded.

A detachment of Americans marched
into the British camp to the lively air of
Yankee Doodle, while the English army
gravely filed out and laid down their
arms. With a delicate consideration, the
Continental forces were withdrawn from
sight, and the only American officer pres-
ent was Major Wilkinson, who had charge
of the arrangements. The total number
surrendered was five thousand seven hun-
dred and ninety-one, besides one thousand
eight hundred and fifty -six prisoners of
war, including sick and wounded. Forty-
two brass cannon and forty -six hundred
muskets, with abundant munitions of war,
were among the trophies. After this cere-
mony was over. Generals Burgoyne and
Gates advanced to meet each other at the
head of their staffs. The former was
dressed in a magnificent uniform of scarlet
and gold, and the latter in a plain blue
frock-coat. It was a marked contrast be-
tween vanquished and victor. When they
had approached nearly within a sword's
length, they halted, and Burgoyne, with a graceful obeisance, said,
" The fortune of war, General Gates, has made me your prisoner."
General Gates, returning the salute, replied, '' I shall always be
ready to testify that it has not been through any fault of your
excellency."

220 THIRD YEAR OF THE REVOLUTION. f™

LI777.

As they met after these formalities, Gates used the common ex-
pression, ^^ I am very happy to see you'' ^' I believe you are," replied
Burgoyne. Gates, pretending not to hear the retort, invited him
to his marquee, where they partook of a sumptuous dinner. In the
afternoon, the English troops were marched between the double
lines of the Americans, and, in presence of both armies, Burgoyne
handed his sword to Gates, who promptly returned it. The
tragedy was finished. The northern invasion had proved an in-
glorious failure. The prisoners were forwarded to Boston, but
the British government failing to ratify the agreement, and fears
arising that the men, if given up, would be at once turned into
the British army. Congress ordered them to be sent into the
interior of Virginia. The action caused much excitement and
was fruitful of mutual recriminations between the two countries.
Late in the fall, the " convention troops," as they were called,
were marched seven hundred miles across the country to Char-
lottesville, Virginia. Here comfortable barracks were built the
next summer; an extensive territory was cleared, and gardens
were laid out and beautifully cultivated by them. At the close
of the war many of the prisoners remained among their fellow-
Germans and became useful citizens.

The picture of this celebrated invasion would be incomplete
without referring to the pathetic account left by Madame Riede-
sel, who followed her husband throughout the disastrous cam-
paign. This lady had a large calash made for her use, capable of
holding herself, three children, and two female servants, in which
they accompanied the army on their march. After they encamped,
a small square building, with a capacious chimney, was erected
for her comfort. She goes on to relate : " On the 7th of October
our misfortunes began. I was at breakfast with my husband, and
heard that something was intended. On the same day I expected
Generals Burgoyne, Phillips, and Fraser to dine with us. I saw
a great movement among the troops ; my husband told me it was
merely a reconnoissance, which gave me no concern, as it often
happened. I walked out of the house, and met several Indians
in their war-dresses, with guns in their hands. When I asked
them where they were going, they cried out, * War ! war ! ' mean-
ing that they were going to battle. This filled me with appre-
hension, and I had scarcely got home before I heard reports of
cannon and musketry, which grew louder by degrees, till at last
the noise became excessive.

{^'^yj MADAME RIEDESEL'S NARRATIVE. 221

"About four o'clock in the afternoon, instead of the guests
whom I expected, General Fraser was brought on a litter, mor-
tally wounded. The table, which was already set, was instantly
removed, and a bed placed in its stead for the wounded general.
I sat trembling in a corner ; the noise grew louder, and the alarm
increased ; the thought that my husband might perhaps be brought
in, wounded in the same manner, was terrible to me, and dis-
tressed me exceedingly. General Fraser said to the surgeon,
* Tell me if my wound is mortal ; do not flatter me.* The ball
had passed through his body, and, unhappily for the general, he
had eaten a very hearty breakfast, by which the stomach was dis-
tended, and the ball, as the surgeon said, had passed through it.
I heard him often exclaim with a sigh, ' Oh ! fatal ambition ! Poor
General Burgoyne ! Oh ! my poor wife ! ' He was asked if he
had any request to make, to which he replied that, * If General
Burgoyne would permit it, he should like to be buried at six
o'clock in the evening, on the top of a mountain, in a redoubt
which had been built there.*

" I did not know which way to turn ; all the other rooms were
full of sick. Toward evening I saw my husband coming ; then I
forgot all my sorrows, and thanked God that he was spared to
me. He ate in great haste, with me and his aide-de-camp, behind
the house. We had been told that we had the advantage over the
enemy, but the sorrowful faces I beheld told a different tale ; and
before my husband went away he took me aside, and said every-
thing was going very badly, and that I must keep myself in
readiness to leave the place, but not to mention it to any one. I
made the pretence that I would move the next morning into my
new house, and had everything packed up ready. * * *
** I could not go to sleep, as I had General Fraser and all the
other wounded gentlemen in my room, and I was sadly afraid my
children would wake, and by their crying disturb the dying man
in his last moments, who often addressed me and apologized ' for
the trouble he gave me.' About three o'clock in the morning I
was told that he could not hold out much longer ; I had desired
to be informed of the near approach of this sad crisis, and I then
wrapped up my children in their clothes, and went with them
into the room below. About eight o'clock in the morning he
died.

** After he was laid out, and his corpse wrapped up in a sheet,
we came again into the room, and had this sorrowful sight before

222 THIRD YEAR OF THE REVOLUTION. [

Octn
1777

US the whole day ; and, to add to the melancholy scene, almost
every moment some officer of my acquaintance was brought in
wounded. The cannonade commenced again ; a retreat was
spoken of, but not the smallest motion was made toward it.
About four o'clock in the afternoon I saw the house which had
just been built for me in flames, and the enemy was now not far
off. We knew that General Burgoyne would not refuse the last
request of General Fraser, though, by his acceding to it, an
unnecessary delay was occasioned, by which the inconvenience
of the army was increased."

As soon as the funeral service was finished and the grave of
General Fraser closed, an order was issued that the army should
fall back.

** The retreat was ordered to be conducted with the greatest
silence ; many fires were lighted, and several tents left standing ;
we traveled continually during the night. At six o'clock in the
morning we halted, which excited the surprise of all ; General
Burgoyne had the cannon ranged and counted ; this delay seemed
to displease everybody, for if we could only have made another
good march, we should have been in safety. My husband, quite
exhausted with fatigue, came into my calash, and slept for three
hours. During that time Captain Wiloe brought me a bag full of
bank-notes and Captain Grismar his elegant watch, a ring, and a
purse full of money, which they requested me to take care of, and
which I promised to do to the utmost of my power. We again
marched, but had scarcely proceeded an hour before we halted,
as the enemy was in sight ; it proved to be only a reconnoitering
party of two hundred men, who might easily have been made
prisoners if General Burgoyne had given proper orders on the
occasion.

" About evening we arrived at Saratoga ; my dress was wet
through and through with rain, and in this state I had to remain
the whole night, having no place to change it ; I, however, got
close to a large fire, and at last lay down on some straw. At this
moment General Phillips came up to me, and I asked him why
he had not continued our retreat, as my husband had promised to
cover it and bring the army through. ' Poor, dear woman,' said
he, * I wonder how, drenched as you are, you have the courage
still to persevere and venture further in this kind of weather ; I
wish,' continued he, * you were our commanding general ; Gene-
ral Burgoyne is tired, and means to halt here to-night and give us
our supper.'

^fil] MADAME RIEDESEL'S NARRATIVE. 223

" On the morning of the loth, at ten o'clock, General Burgoyne
ordered the retreat to be continued. The greatest misery at this
time prevailed in the army, and more than thirty officers came to
me, for whom tea and coffee were prepared, and with whom I
shared all my provisions, with which my calash was in general well
supplied ; for I had a cook who was an excellent caterer, and who
often in the night crossed small rivers and foraged on the inhabi-
tants, bringing in with him sheep, small pigs, and poultry, for
which he very often forgot to pay.

"About two o'clock in the afternoon we again heard a firing
of cannon and small arms ; instantly all was alarm, and everything
in motion. My husband told me to go to a house not far off. I
immediately seated myself in my calash with my children and
drove off; but scarcely had I reached it before I discovered five
or six armed men on the other side of the Hudson. Instinctively
I threw my children down in the calash, and then concealed my-
self with them. At this moment the fellows fired, and wounded
an already wounded English soldier who was behind me. Poor
fellow ! I pitied him exceedingly, but at this moment had no
means or power to relieve him.

" A terrible cannonade was commenced by the enemy against
the house in which I sought to obtain shelter for myself and
children, under the mistaken idea that all the generals were in it.
Alas ! it contained none but wounded and women. We were at
last obliged to resort to the cellar for refuge, and in one corner of
this I remained the whole day, my children sleeping on the earth
with their heads in my lap ; and in the same situation I passed a
sleepless night. Eleven cannon-balls passed through the house,
and we could distinctly hear them roll away. One poor soldier,
who was lying on a table for the purpose of having his leg ampu-
tated, was struck by a shot, which carried away his other ; his
comrades had left him, and when we went to his assistance, we
found him in the corner of a room, into which he had crept, more
dead than alive, scarcely breathing. My reflections on the dan-
ger to which my husband was exposed now agonized me exceed-
ingly, and the thoughts of my children and the necessity of
struggling for their preservation alone sustained me. * *

" I now occupied myself through the day in attending the
wounded ; I made them tea and coffee, and often shared my din-
ner with them, for which they offered me a thousand expressions
of gratitude. One day a Canadian officer came to our cellar, who

224

THIRD YEAR OF THE REVOLUTION.

roct.,
L1777,

had scarcely the power of holding himself upright, and we con-
cluded he was dying for want of nourishment ; I was happy in
offering him my dinner, which strengthened him and procured
me his friendship. I now undertook the care of Major Bloom-
field, another aide-de-camp of General Phillips ; he had received
a musket-ball through both cheeks, which in its course had
knocked out several of his teeth and cut his tongue ; he could
hold nothing in his mouth, the matter which ran from his wound

almost choked him, and
he was not able to take
any nourishment ex-
cept a little soup, or
something liquid. We
had some Rhenish
wine, and in the hope
that the acidity of it
would cleanse his
wound, I gave him a
bottle of it. He took
a little now and then,
and with such effect
that his cure soon fol-
lowed ; thus I added
another to my stock of
friends, and derived a
satisfaction which, in
the midst of sufferings,
served to tranquillize
me and diminish their
acuteness.

'' One day General
Phillips accompanied
my husband, at the risk of their lives, on a visit to us. The
general, after having witnessed our situation, said to him, ' I
would not for ten thousand guineas come again to this place;
my heart is almost broken.'

*' In this horrid situation we remained six days ; a cessation of
hostilities was now spoken of, and eventually took place. On the
i6th, however, my husband had to repair to his post and I to my
cellar. This day fresh beef was served out to the officers, who
till now had only had salt provisions, which was very bad for
their wounds.

GENERAL BURGOYNE.

Oct. 17, 1
1777. J

MADAME RIEDESEL'S NARRATIVE.

225

" On the 17th of October the convention was completed.
General Burgoyne and the other generals waited on the American
General Gates ; the troops laid down their arms, and gave them-
selves up prisoners of war !

" My husband sent a message to me to come over to him with
my children. I seated myself once more in my dear calash, and
then rode through the American camp. As I passed on, I ob-
served — and this was a great consolation to me — that no one eyed
me with looks of re-
sentment, but that they
all greeted us, and even
showed compassion in
their countenances at
the sight of a woman
with small children. I
was, I confess, afraid to
go over to the enemy,
as it was quite a new
situation to me. When
I drew near the tents,
a handsome man ap-
proached and met me,
took my children from
the calash, and hugged
and kissed them, which
affected me almost to
tears. * You tremble,'
said he, addressing
himself to me ; ' be not
afraid.* * No,* I an-
swered, * you seem so
kind and tender to my
children, it inspires me
tent of General Gates,

GENERAL GATES.

with courage.* He now led me to the
where I found Generals Burgoyne and
Phillips, who were on a friendly footing with the former. Bur-
goyne said to me, ' Never mind ; your sorrows have now an end.'
I answered him, ' that I should be reprehensible to have any
cares, as he had none ; and I was pleased to see him on such
friendly footing with General Gates.' All the generals remained
to dine with General Gates.

" The same gentleman who received me so kindly now came
15

226 THIRD YEAR OF THE REVOLUTION. [^[Vljf'

and said to me, * You will be very much embarrassed to eat with
all these gentlemen ; come with your children to my tent, where
I will prepare for you a frugal dinner, and give it with a free
will.' I said, * You are certainly a husband and a father, you
have shown me so much kindness.' I now found that he was
Oeneral Schuyler. He treated me with excellent smoked tongue,
beefsteaks, potatoes, and good bread and butter ! Never could I
liave wished to eat a better dinner ; I was content ; I saw all
around me were so likewise ; and, what was better than all, my
husband was out of danger.

"After dinner General Schuyler begged me to pay him a visit
at his house in Albany, where he expected also to receive General
Burgoyne. Having sent to my husband for advice, he counselled
me to accept the invitation."

She was delighted with her reception at General Schuyler's
hospitable mansion, and records that Mrs. Schuyler and her
•daughters '* loaded us with kindness, and behaved in the same
manner toward General Burgoyne, though he had wantonly
caused their splendid country establishment to be burned."
General Schuyler's gentlemanly courtesy was characteristically
shown in his first meeting with Burgoyne after the surrender.
The latter, remembering his unnecessary destruction of the
former's property, attempted an excuse. ** That was the fate of
war," replied General Schuyler ; " I beg you, say no more about
it." Burgoyne, in a speech before the House of Commons, adds :
" He did more : he sent an aide-de-camp to conduct me to
Albany, in order, as he expressed it, to procure better quarters
than a stranger might be able to find. That gentleman conducted
me to a very elegant house, and, to my great surprise, presented
me to Mrs. Schuyler and family. In that house I remained dur-
ing my whole stay in Albany, with a table of more than twenty
covers for me and my friends, and every other demonstration of
hospitality."

We turn now from the brilliant exploits at Saratoga to a sad
and sober record, relieved only by episodes of heroism, sacrifice,
and devotion. Washington, at the opening of the campaign, had
not over seven or eight thousand men, while General Howe
moved out of New York with more than double that number, all
veterans and eager for battle. The last of May, Washington
removed from his winter quarters at Morristown to a strong posi-
tion behind the Raritan at Middlebrook, in order to more care-

juiy23t^o^Aug.25.j ^jj^ CAMPAIGN IN PENNSYLVANIA. 22/

fully watch General Howe, then at New Brunswick. It was yet
uncertain where he would strike, though he evidently aimed at
Philadelphia. In June he tried to cut off Sullivan at Princeton,
but failing in that, manoeuvred to force Washington to a general
engagement. The American Fabius was too wary, and so Howe
turned back to Staten Island. The 5th of July he began to
embark the army on his brother's fleet. Slow and pleasure-lov-
ing as ever, he kept the troops on shipboard in the sultry sun till
the 23d, when he put out to sea. There was great doubt where
the bolt would fall. Now there were rumors that he would enter
the Delaware ; now that he had returned and ascended the Hud-
son ; and then that he had sailed for Charleston. Meantime, the
army was moved to Germantown to await events. At. last the
news that the British were actually in the Chesapeake dispelled
all doubt.

The army was immediately set in motion. In order to over-
awe the disaffected, the troops were marched through Philadel-
phia, down Front and up Chestnut streets. The soldiers looked
their best and the fifes and drums played merrily, but they could
not hide their indifferent equipments and the fact that the finest
uniform was a brown linen hunting-shirt. To make the army
appear somewhat alike, each soldier wore in his hat a sprig of
green. Washington took post at Wilmington, while troops of
light horse and infantry were sent on to annoy the advance of
the enemy, who were already landing at the head of the Elk
River. The patriot cause looked almost hopeless. With the
greatest efforts, Washington had collected only about eleven
thousand five hundred men, while the English numbered, accord-
ing to returns in the British Department of State, nineteen
thousand five hundred, besides officers. The contrast in the dis-
cipline and equipments of the two armies was yet more marked.
Howe was within fifty-four miles of Philadelphia, with a level
country before him, no strong positions for defence, and a popula-
tion largely royalist or indifferent. Yet Washington determined
to hazard a battle before yielding the national capital.

Considerable skirmishing now took place, during which
occurred one of those wonderful instances of preservation so
characteristic of Washington's career. ** We had not lain long,"
says Major Ferguson, of the rifle corps, ** when a rebel officer,
remarkable by a huzzar dress, pressed toward our army, within a
hundred yards of my right flank, not perceiving us. He was

228 THIRD YEAR OF THE REVOLUTION. [fffj*;

followed by another, dressed in a dark green and blue, mounted
on a bay horse, with a remarkable high cocked-hat. I ordered
three good shots to steal near and fire at them ; but the idea dis-
gusting me, I recalled the order. The huzzar, in returning, made
a circuit, but the other passed within a hundred yards of us, upon
which I advanced from the wood toward him. Upon my calling
he stopped, but after looking at me he proceeded. I again drew
his attention and made signs to him to stop, leveling my piece at
him ; but he slowly cantered away. As I was within that dis-
tance at which, in the quickest firing, I could have lodged half a
dozen balls in or about him before he was out of my reach, I had
only to determine ; but it was not pleasant to fire at the back of
an unoffending individual who was acquitting himself very coolly
of his duty ; so I let him alone. The day after, I had been telling
this story to some wounded officers who lay in the same room
with me, when one of the surgeons, who had been dressing the
wounded rebel officers, came in and told us that they had in-
formed him that General Washington was all the morning with
the light troops, and only attended by a French officer in a huzzar
dress, he himself dressed and mounted in every point as above
described. I am not sorry that I did not know at the time who
it was."

Washington finally took position back of the Brandywine to
defend the principal route to Philadelphia, which crosses at
Chad's Ford; while General Sullivan was stationed above to
watch the fords and protect the right flank. Howe immediately
made his arrangements to repeat the tactics of Long Island.
Knyphausen and the Hessians were to make a feint of forcing a
passage at Chad's Ford, while Cornwallis led the bulk of the army
higher up the river. Washington, advised of the movement, de-
cided to cross the river himself and cut off Knyphausen's detach-
ment before Howe, who had gone on with Cornwallis, could
return to his aid. Word was at once dispatched to Sullivan to
move over the fords and keep Cornwallis busy. Unfortunately
Sullivan was not informed of the progress of the enemy, and,
relying upon insufficient information, disobeyed his orders and
halted. Precious time was lost. The plan was abandoned, and
before Sullivan could believe that Cornwallis had left Kennet
Square, in front of Chad's Ford, he was actually, with thirteen
thousand men, fairly across and on the heights near Birmingham
Meeting-House, within two miles of his own right flank. Sulli-

®^J*77,''] BATTLE OF BRAND YWINE. 229

van now did what he could to remedy the terrible mistake ; but
before he could get his men into position, the British were upon
fiim with the bayonet. The raw militia hurled back charge after
charge, but at length gave way and streamed across the fields
toward the main body. Lafayette, struggling sword in hand to
rally the fugitives, was shot through the leg by a musket ball, and
was helped off by his aide-de-camp.

Meantime, Washington had been waiting in anxious expecta-
tion. Suddenly a whig farmer, named Thomas Cheney, dashed
into camp, his horse covered with foam, and informed him that
while out reconnoitering up the river, he had suddenly come upon
the enemy ; that they fired upon him, and he had only escaped by
the swiftness of his horse. Washington, misled so often, doubted
the intelligence, but the man exclaimed, " My life for it, you are
mistaken. Put me under guard till you find my story true!"
Just then came word from Sullivan, and soon the booming of
guns told that the news was only too correct. Putting himself at
the head of a division of Pennsylvanians and Virginians, Washing-
ton hastened to the relief of the imperiled right. Greene, with
one brigade, marched four miles in forty-two minutes. Opening
his ranks to let the flying militia pass through, he closed them
again to check the pursuers. At a narrow defile about a mile
from Dilworth, which Washington had already selected, he took
a stand. The British came in hot haste, expecting no opposition.
But Greene held his ground obstinately. When night came on,
he drew off his men at leisure. Wayne defended Chad's Ford
against Knyphausen until the heavy cannonading, and finally the
appearance of the British on his flank, warned him of his danger,
when he retreated in good order.

Lafayette gives a graphic picture of the scene along the road
to Chester during the flight of the militia. Terror and confusion
were everywhere ; fugitives, cannon, and wagons recklessly
crowded along pell-mell, while, above all, in the rear sounded
volleys of musketry and the roar of the guns. Amid the disorder
and darkness, it was impossible to check the torrent. At the
bridge in Chester, Lafayette placed a guard. Washington and the
troops of Generals Greene, Wayne, Armstrong, and others here
came up, and the wearied army found repose. The English had
marched far, and the check by Greene was too decided to admit
of any further pursuit.

September nth had been a sad day for the patriot cause. The

230

THIRD YEAR OF THE REVOLUTION.

[^!?V.

American loss was about one thousand, the British half as great.
The streets of Philadelphia were full of citizens anxiously listen-
ing to the sound of the cannonade. When news came of the
American defeat, the whigs were in consternation. Many de-
serted their homes and fled, leaving all behind them. Congress
that evening voted to adjourn to Lancaster, whence it afterward
removed to York with all the archives of the government.

In this time of general fear, one loves to linger on single
instances of heroism. Among the
names to be remembered is that of
Hannah Irwin Israel, whose husband
was a prisoner on board a
British frigate in full sight
of his own house. He had
been heard to say that he
would sooner drive his cS.t-
tle as a present to General

Washington, than
to receive for them
thousands of dollars
in British gold. As
a retort, a detachment of soldiers
was sent to his meadow to slaugh-
ter his cattle before his eyes. His
spirited young wife, who was not
yet out of her teens, saw the move-
ment, and with quick wit divined its cause. Taking with her
a young boy, only eight years of age, she ran to the field,
threw down the bars, and commenced to drive out the cattle.
" Stop, or we shall shoot you ! " shouted the soldiers. " Fire
away ! " was the only answer of the intrepid woman, intent on her
determination. The balls fell thick and fast about her, but she
carried her point, saved her property, and saw the foiled enemy
go empty-handed back to their ship. Her husband was tried, and

Sep]y^2-20.-] THE MASSACRE AT PAOLI. 23 1

only saved his life by giving the Masonic sign to the presiding
officer, who, he had discovered, was a member of the order. At
this magical signal everything was changed. The patriot, who
had been served with the meanest of food and whose bed was a
coil of ropes on the open deck, was now sent to his home, in a
splendid barge, loaded with presents for his heroic wife, while the
tory witnesses who had caused his arrest, received a reprimand
for wishing harm to an honorable man.

Washington was in nowise discouraged by the defeat of
Brandywine. The next day he moved to Germantown, where
he gave his men only a day's rest, and then recrossed the Schuyl-
kill, and taking the Lancaster road, went out to meet Howe again,
if need be, on the same field. The two armies came in sight near
the Warren tavern, twenty miles from Philadelphia. The ad-
vanced posts had begun to skirmish, and a battle seemed immi-
nent, when a deluging rain, which lasted for twenty-four hours,
checked all movements. The Americans had no tents or blankets,
their guns became wet, and finally it was discovered that the
cartridge-boxes were so poorly made that they admitted the
water, and the ammunition was spoiled. There were few bayonets,
and retreat was the only resource. All day and part of the next
night, the army, a thousand of the men barefoot, marched, under a
pelting rain, over muddy roads, to Warwick furnace, where sup-
plies were secured.

Moving thence to defend the passage of the Schuylkill, Wayne
was left to hang on the enemy's rear and cut off the baggage.
He concealed his command deep in the wood, and supposed no
one knew of his whereabouts, while his spies watched the British
camp. Unfortunately, he was surrounded by tories, who kept
Howe perfectly informed of all his movements. Grey, known as
the '' no-flint " general, because he usually ordered his men to re-
move the flints from their muskets when about to make an attack,
prepared with a strong detachment to surprise him. On the night
of September 20th, Wayne, expecting reinforcements, had ordered
his troops to lie on their arms. But, in the dark and rain. Grey
stealthily approached the camp, cutting down the pickets on the
way. The alarm was given and Wayne drew up his men, unfor-
tunately, in front of their fires. By the light, the enemy saw dis-
tinctly where to strike. Suddenly the British dashed out of the
shade of the forest, and the bayonet made short work. Three
hundred of the patriots were killed, wounded, or captured, many

232

THIRD YEAR OF THE REVOLUTION.

rSept. 20-6.

1777.

THE PAOU MONUMENT.

being mercilessly butchered after they had surrendered. The
British lost only seven men. Wayne, by his presence of mind,
saved the rest of his detachment and rejoined Washington.

The Paoli massacre, as it was called, left open the way to
Philadelphia. By a feigned movement toward Reading, as if to

seize the stores at that point,
Howe decoyed Washington to
defend the upper fords of the
Schuylkill, while he turned in the
night, and, crossing below, struck
boldly between Philadelphia and
the American army. Howe en-
tered the city on the 26th. The
army was put into winter-quar-
ters there and at Germantown.
As the British general, with his
brilliant staff and escort, marched into Philadelphia, followed by
a long train of the choicest troops in the army — grenadiers, light-
dragoons, and artillerymen with shining brass pieces, all in holiday
array — they presented an imposing spectacle. Conquerors they
proclaimed themselves in every motion ; stepping proudly to the
swelling music of God Save the King, and " presenting," says
Irving, " with their scarlet uniforms, their glittering arms and
flaunting feathers, a striking contrast to the poor patriot troops,
who had recently passed through the same streets, weary and
wayworn, and happy if they could cover their raggedness with a
brown linen hunting-frock, and decorate their caps with a sprig
of evergreen."

Washington's campaign seemed a failure. Really, however, it
was a success. By delaying Howe a month in marching little
over fifty miles, he had rendered Saratoga possible. Howe was
to have taken the city and then sent reinforcements to the north.
By the time he had accomplished his task, the fate of Burgoyne
was virtually decided. Moreover, the capture of the national
capital proved not as great a piece of good fortune as was antici-
pated. The dissipation of the winter sadly demoralized the army,
so that Franklin wittily said, " Howe had not taken Philadelphia
so much as Philadelphia had taken Howe."

Washington would not let the enemies of his country rest in
peace. A few weeks after they had nestled down in their snug
quarters, he made arrangements for a surprise upon their encamp-

^577*'] BATTLE OF GERMANTOWN. 233

ment at Germantown. Howe, having sent off a detachment
against the forts along the Delaware, and another to convey some
provisions, gave Washington just the opportunity he wanted. In
the evening of October 3d, the American army set out from its
encampment at Skippack Creek upon this hazardous expedition.
The troops moved in four columns by as many roads. Two of
these were to attack the enemy in front and one on each flank.
They were to time their march of fourteen miles so as to reach
the neighborhood early enough to give the men a short rest, and
then at daybreak to fall simultaneously upon the British camp.

The column, consisting of Sullivan's and Wayne's divisions,
and Conway's brigade, which was to enter Germantown by the
Chestnut Hill road and thence through the principal street of the
village, found the alarm had been given by the patrols, and the
picket on Mount Airy was under arms. It was, however, soon
driven back upon a battalion of light infantry and the fortieth
regiment, under the veteran Colonel Musgrave. A sharp skir-
mish followed. Wayne's men were not to be stopped. They re-
membered the terrible night of September 20th, and their hearts
were steeled and their arms nerved. It was now their turn to
use the bayonet, and the officers could not hold them back, even
when the time for mercy came. They raised the terrible cry of
^'Revenge! Revenge! Have at the blood - hounds ! " Howe,
springing from his bed, and rushing in among the fugitives,
shouted, " For shame ! I never saw you retreat before ! It is
only a scouting party ! " But the rattling grape-shot told a more
serious story, and he rushed off to prepare for a battle. In Phila-
delphia, Cornwallis heard the roar of the guns and hastened re-
inforcements to the rescue. Musgrave would not flee, but threw
himself with six companies into the large stone mansion of Justice
Chew, barricaded the doors and windows, and opened fire upon
the pursuing troops. Up to this point all went well for the
patriot cause.

Now came a turn in the tide. Instead of watching this little
fortress with a detachment, the troops stopped to capture it.
General Knox declaring that it was against every rule of war to
leave a fort in the rear. So much for red tape. Smith, a gallant
Virginian, advanced, bearing a flag with a summons to surrender.
He was fired upon and mortally wounded. Cannon were brought
to bear, but proved too light. Attempts were made to set fire to
the house, but in vain. After a precious half-hour was wasted,

234

THIRD YEAR OF THE REVOLUTION.

roct. 4-,

L 1777.

the column moved on, leaving a regiment to guard the place.
During the attack, the troops had become separated. A dense fog
made it impossible to recognize one another, and parties fre-
quently exchanged shots before they found out their mistake.
The two columns of militia which were to attack the flanks never
fired a shot. Greene, who had nearly two-thirds of the army,
was to strike the English right wing near the market-place, but
being three-quarters of an hour late, the British were ready to

BATTLE OF GERMANTOWN — ATTACK ON CHEW S HOUSE.

receive him, and his attack proved a failure. Williams's regi-
ment of Virginians pushed gallantly forward, and took prisoners a
large party of the British, but raising a shout brought a larger
force upon them through the fog, and they were compelled to
surrender. Woodford's brigade opened a cannonade on Chew's
house. Wayne's men had now pushed down the street ; but,
alarmed by this firing and supposing the British had gained their
rear and cut them off from camp, they became panic-stricken. In
their retreat they came upon Stephen's brigade, where, being
mistaken for the enemy, they caused a fresh flurry among these
troops. Sullivan's men had exhausted their ammunition, when
they were startled by the cry of a light-horseman that they were
surrounded. Washington, who was in the very front of the battle
and under the hottest fire, now gave the order to retreat. It was
sent to every detachment, and the men crept oflf in the fog as

Jan.-A^prii,-] EVENTS ABOUT NEW YORK. 235

silently as they came. Pulaski with his cavalry gallantly covered
the movement. Not a cannon was left behind. The British lost
about six hundred and the patriots one thousand, including
General Nash and other valuable officers.

The battle was counted as an American defeat ; yet it greatly
encouraged the patriots. They afterward learned that they had
come off in the very moment of victory ; that Howe was on the
point of retreating, and that Chester had been already named as
the place of rendezvous. The British officers could but respect a
general who displayed so much daring, and whose plans would have
certainly ended in the utter route of their army, had it not been
for events over which he could have no control. This battle also
had an excellent effect in Europe. Count Vergennes said to the
American commissioners in Paris that " Nothing struck him so
much as General Washington's advancing and giving battle to
General Howe. To bring an army raised within a year to this,
promises everything."

While New Jersey had been the centre of interest, some events
had occurred at the northward worth recording. When Wash-
ington was hurrying his weary men from Princeton, he sent a
note to General Heath, then in command of the American troops
collected in the Highlands, to make a demonstration upon New
York, hoping thereby to induce the enemy to withdraw troops
from Jersey for the defence of that city. Heath accordingly ad-
vanced to King's Bridge, and sent a bombastic summons to Fort
Independence, threatening to put everybody to the sword who
did not surrender within twenty minutes. After a few days
skirmishing, learning of troops up the Sound which might get in
his rear, he withdrew, the laughing-stock of both armies.

In March, General Howe, with a fleet of ten sail, ascended
the Hudson to Peekskill, and, landing, set fire to a large quantity
of army stores collected at that place. General McDougal, hav-
ing only two hundred and fifty men, could muster little defence
against the overwhelming force of the enemy.

Late in April, Governor Tryon, with about two thousand men,
left New York to destroy the military supplies at Danbury, Con-
necticut. He landed at the foot of Compo Hill, near the mouth
of the Saugatuck River. The expedition was a surprise and met
with no resistance. At Bethel, on the way, an amusing incident
occurred. One Luther Holcomb, in order to lengthen the time
as much as possible for the benefit of the people of Danbury, rode

236 THIRD YEAR OF THE REVOLUTION. ['^'"'17??.*^®'

to the top of a hill, over which the British were about to make
their way, and, waving his hat, turned to an imaginary host in his
rear, shouting, '' Halt the whole universe ! break off into king-
doms ! " Tryon immediately checked his army, arranged his
cannon so as to sweep the advancing enemy, and sent out recon-
noitering parties. Holcomb, content with having stopped the
whole army by a bit of rodomontade, put spurs to his horse and
retreated to Danbury, leaving the duped general to digest the
joke as amiably as possible. Guided by two tories of Danbury,
Tryon reached that place and destroyed the stores. The night
was passed in drinking and carousing. At dawn, the torch was
set to all the houses except those of the tories, and, amid the
flames of the burning town, the troops started on their return.

Then ensued a scene like that of Lexington and Concord two
years before. The militia were fast gathering from the neighbor-
ing villages. Tryon took a new route, hoping to dodge his foes,
but they were not to be thrown off". General Wooster, then a
veteran of near seventy, with a little force of two hundred, hung
on the rear. While encouraging his men he was mortally
wounded. Generals Arnold and Silliman hurried to Ridgefield,
and, throwing up a barricade across the road, with five hundred men
awaited the advance of two thousand. They held their post for
a quarter of an hour, when it was outflanked. A whole platoon
fired upon Arnold at a distance of thirty yards. His horse fell,
and a tory rushed up, calling upon him to surrender. " Not yet,"
exclaimed Arnold, as he sprang to his feet, drew a pistol, and shot
the man dead. Then, springing toward a swamp, under a shower
of bullets, he escaped unharmed, and was soon off" mustering the
militia on the road in advance of the British.

Tryon remained here all night, and the next day renewed his
perilous journey. The patriots, from behind stone walls and
buildings, continually annoyed the march. Lamb, with artillery
and volunteers from New Haven, was at the Saugatuck bridge.
Tryon avoided them by fording the river a mile above, and then,
putting his men at full speed, ran for the hill of Compo.
Some of the Continentals pushed across the bridge and struck
them in flank; some kept along the west side and galled them
with shot and ball, and some forded the stream and fired on the
rear-guard. Arnold led on the attack until his horse was dis-
abled, and seamen from the fleet, coming to the rescue, checked
the Americans in their eager pursuit. Tryon's wearied party

"I?,i?--]

CAPTURE OF GENERAL PRESCOTT.

237

now embarked, harassed to the very last by Lamb's artillery. In
this useless exploit the British lost two hundred men, and, by
their savage ferocity, kindled everywhere a hatred that burned
long after peace had come. Congress voted Arnold a capari-
soned horse, as a token of approbation for his gallant conduct.

The next month Colonel Meigs avenged the loss at Danbury.
Embarking in whale-boats at Guilford about two hundred militia-

men, he crossed the Sound
on the night of May 23d, and
reaching Sag Harbor at day-
break, burned there a British
vessel of half a dozen guns
and several loaded transports,
destroyed the stores, and cap-
tured ninety prisoners, escap-
ing without the loss of a man.
For this brilliant feat Congress
presented him a sword.
In July, Lieutenant-Colonel Barton laid a plan to capture
General Prescott, in command of the British forces in Rhode

CAPTURE OF GENERAL PRESCOTT.

238 THIRD YEAR OF THE REVOLUTION. U^rij^:

Island, who was quartered at a lonely farm-house near Newport.
Taking about forty militia in boats, Barton rowed across Narra-
ganset Bay, through the English fleet, dexterously avoiding their
vessels, and landed in a cove close by the general's quarters.
Seizing the astonished sentinel who guarded his door, they
entered the house, captured, and hurried off the half- dressed
general. A soldier, escaping from the house, gave the alarm,
but the laughing guard assured him he had seen a ghost. They
soon, however, found it to be no jesting matter, and vainly pur-
sued the exultant Barton ; for, while they were searching the
sand on the shore for the foot-prints of his party, he passed under
the stern of the English guard-ship and escaped to Providence.
" You have made a bold push to-night," said Prescott as they
landed. " We have done as well as we could," replied Barton.
He received a sword from Congress and was also promoted to
a colonelcy.

Unfortunately, Lee was the only officer in Howe's possession
with the same rank as Prescott, and they were exchanged. It
proved no gain to the patriot cause, although at that time every-
body rejoiced that by this daring feat they had again secured the
*' palladium of their liberties."

While Burgoyne was making his desperate adventure at the
north, Clinton attempted a diversion from the south, as was ex-
pected at the beginning of the campaign. Putnam, commanding
on the Hudson, in his easy good-nature had allowed his troops to
become scattered, so that he had only two thousand men for the
defence of the Highlands. Clinton made a feint on Fishkill,
which led Putnam off on a wild-goose chase. George Clinton,
governor of New York, however, saw the real point of danger,
and hastened, with his brother and all the troops he could gather,
to Forts Clinton and Montgomery. October 6th, the British
landed and carried both forts by storm. The garrison made a
desperate resistance, but, being overpowered by superior num-
bers, fled, and, favored by the gathering darkness, mostly escaped
over the hills. The heavy iron chain and boom which had been
put across the river to prevent the ascent of the British fleet was
now useless. Two American frigates, sent down for the defence
of the obstructions, were becalmed, and were fired to prevent
their falling into the hands of the enemy. Fort Constitution
being abandoned, the Hudson was opened to Albany. Clinton,
however, took no advantage of the opportunity, but returned to

^mi?'! BURNING OF KINGSTON, NEW YORK. 239

New York, leaving Burgoyne to his fate. Vaughan remained
behind and led a marauding party as far up as Kingston (October
15th), burning and plundering that town and the houses of
patriots along the river. If Clinton had gone on to Albany,
Gates, then on the eve of success, would have been forced to
retreat into New England, and Burgoyne's way would have been
clear. As it was, this wanton, useless expedition only excited
wide-spread indignation.

A very amusing incident is told which occurred during this
sally. Some Dutchmen were at work near a swampy flat,
when suddenly the red-coats came in view. It was low water,
and they fled across the flats toward Ponkhocken, as fast as their
legs could carry them, not daring to look behind, lest, like Lot's
wife, they might be detained. The summer haymakers had left a
rake on the marsh meadow, and upon this one of the fugitives
trod, the handle striking him in the back. Not doubting that a
*^ Britisher " was close upon his heels, he stopped short, and,
throwing up his hands imploringly, exclaimed, *' O, mein Cot !
mein Cot ! I kivs up. Hoorah for King Shorge ! "

Meantime, Governor Clinton had been trying to raise a force
for the defence of Kingston. While he was encamped near New
Windsor, collecting the scattered troops, one day about noon a
horseman galloped in hot haste up to the sentinel on guard, and,
in answer to his challenge, said, " I am a friend and wish to see
General Clinton." He was admitted to the general's presence,
but on entering betrayed an involuntary surprise, and muttering,
*' I am lost ! " was seen to hastily put something into his mouth
and swallow it. Suspicion being thus excited, he was arrested
and given a heavy dose of tartar emetic. This brought to light a
silver bullet, which, however, the prisoner succeeded in again
swallowing. He refused to repeat the dose, but was assured
that resistance was useless, as, in case he persisted, he would
be immediately hanged and a post-mortem examination effected.
Having yielded, the bullet was at length secured. It was found
to be hollow, and secreted within it was the following note,
written two days before :

''Fort Montgomery, Oa. 8, 1777.

"Nous y voici, and nothing now between us and Gates. I
sincerely hope this little success of ours may facilitate your
operations. In answer to your letter of the 28th of September

240

THIRD YEAR OF THE REVOLUTION.

roct. 12,

1777.

by C. C, I shall only say, I cannot presume to order or even
advise, for reasons obvious. I heartily wish you success.

" Faithfully yours, '' H. Clinton.

" General Burgoyne''

This established the guilt of the prisoner. The secret mes-
senger of Sir Henry Clinton had supposed the Americans to be
utterly routed in the Highlands ;
and the persistent contempt of
the British, who never granted
the honor of a military title to
any American officer — addressing
the commander-in-chief himself
only as Mr. Washington — so mis-
led him that when he heard of his
proximity to General Clinton, he
supposed himself of course among
his own friends. He was tried,
condemned, and hanged as a spy
while the flames of burning Eso-
pus, fired by Vaughan's maraud-

EXECUTION OF A SPY AT KINGSTON, NEW YORK,

ing party, streamed up the distant sky,
in full sight of the apple-tree on which
he ignominiously swung.

In order to prevent the English fleet
from ascending the Delaware, that river had been carefully forti-
fied. A few miles below Philadelphia, a strong redoubt, called
Fort Mifflin, had been erected, and on the New Jersey shore, at Red
Bank, another, named Fort Mercer. The principal channel, lying
between these fortifications, had been obstructed by strong chevaux

Ofy^??'] ATTACK ON FORT MERCER. 24I

de frise, or frames made of heavy timbers, armed with spikes and
filled with stone, so as to keep them in their place. Under the
protection of the guns were moored floating batteries, galleys,
and fire-ships. Further down the river, at Billingsport, was
another fort with similar obstructions ; these, however, were
captured by an English detachment soon after the battle of
Brandy wine, and, by the middle of October, several vessels broke
a passage through the obstacles in the channel. The upper forts
remained, and it was determined to defend them to the last.
Colonel Greene was in command at Fort Mercer, with four
hundred Rhode Island Continentals, having Captain Mauduit
Duplessis, a brave French engineer officer, to direct the artillery.
Fort Mifflin was garrisoned by Lieutenant-Colonel Smith, and
about the same number of Maryland troops of the line. The
fleet was under Commodore Hazlewood. Howe saw that he
must open up communications with his ships, or his position in
Philadelphia would become untenable from the difficulty of secur-
ing supplies.

On the morning of the 22d of October, the little garrison at
Fort Mercer was startled by the appearance on the edge of the
woods, within cannon-shot, of a body of Hessians, twelve hun-
dred strong, under Count Donop. Soon an officer with a flag and
a drummer approached and pompously demanded a surrender —
" The king of England orders his rebellious subjects to lay down
their arms, and they are warned that if they stand the battle no
quarter will be given." Greene at once replied, " We ask no quar-
ter, nor will we give any." Hurried preparations were made for
defence. About five o'clock the enemy advanced to the assault in
columns, headed by a captain, with the carpenters and their axes,
and a hundred men carrying fascines for filling the ditches. The
outworks were unfinished, and the garrison made little attempt to
defend them. The Hessians, elated by the easy victory, entered
at two points, and rushed forward with the drum ''beating a
lively march." Not a man was to be seen, and on the north side
some even reached the earthworks, when a terrible musketry fire
burst forth. At the same time their flanks were raked with
grape-shot from a battery in the angle of the embankment, and
chain-shot from a couple of galleys concealed behind the bushes
on the bank. The Hessians, however, pressed ahead. Under
Donop at the south side they broke through the abattis, filled the
ditch, and began to ascend the rampart. But those who reached
16

242 THIRD YEAR OF THE REVOLUTION. l^ihl?'

the top were struck down by spear and bayonet. Donop fell
mortally wounded. The rest were forced to fall back to the pro-
tection of the forest. In this brief hour of slaughter, the British
lost four hundred men and the Americans only thirty-eight.

While Mauduit was inspecting the works after the assault
was repulsed, he heard some one calling out, '' Whoever you are,
draw me hence." It proved to be Count Donop, who, mortally
wounded, was wedged in among the bodies of the slain. He lived
three days afterward, receiving every possible comfort from Mau-
duit, who personally attended him until his death. "It is finish-
ing a noble career early," he said to his kind companion. " I die
the victim of my ambition and of the avarice of my king ; but,
dying in the arms of honor, I have no regrets." Thus perished
this brave man, at the age of thirty-seven. He was buried near
the fort he vainly sought to capture. A rough boulder marks the
spot. His bones have been carried off by relic-hunters, and his
skull is said to be in the hands of a New Jersey physician.

The British fleet ascended the river to take part in the contest.
The next day they opened a heavy cannonade on Fort Mifflin.
The reply from fort and fleet was too severe, and they were
forced to drop down the stream. Two frigates, the Augusta and
the Merlin, grounded. The former was blown up by red-hot
shot from the American guns, several of her officers and crew
perishing in the explosion ; the latter was set on fire and aban-
doned by her crew.

During the attack, one old lady remained in her house on
the bank of the river, answering urgent entreaties to flee with
■"' God's arm is strong, and will protect me ; I may do good by
staying." She was left to her fate, and while the balls whizzed
and rattled, battering against the brick walls of her dwelling, like
hailstones in a tempest, the steady hum of her spinning-wheel was
undisturbed and unbroken. At length a twelve-pounder came
booming through the side of the house, sundering partitions with
a terrific crash, and landing in a wall near the plucky spinner.
Taking her wheel, she now retreated to the cellar, where she con-
tinued her industry till the battle was over. She then put her
spinning aside, and devoted herself to the suffering wounded who
were brought into her house. She cared for all alike, but admin-
istered a stirring rebuke to the mercenary Hessians, while, at the
same time, she tenderly dressed their wounds. The name of this
brave woman was Anna Whitall, a Quakeress.

Nov.y 0^-20, j CAPTURE OF MERCER AND RED BANK. 243

The British now adopted surer measures for the reduction of
the forts. Heavy works were erected on the Pennsylvania shore
and on Province Island at a distance of five hundred yards. In all,
fourteen redoubts manned with heavy artillery, a floating bat-
tery of twenty-two guns at forty yards, and a fleet carrying three
hundred and thirty -six guns, were brought to bear upon this
devoted garrison. From the loth to the 15th, they kept up an
unbroken rain of bomb and shot. Smith was wounded and left
the fort ; the next in rank being also disabled. Major Thayer of
Rhode Island volunteered for the command. On the last day,
other vessels worked up into the narrow channel next the shore,
where they could throw in hand-grenades. About ten o'clock,
a bugle-note gave the signal, and the fire was renewed with
redoubled energy. The only two serviceable guns were dis-
mounted. The yard-arms of the ships overlooked the earth-
works, so that sharp-shooters perched in the tops picked off" every
man who showed himself upon the platforms. In the night, the
remainder of the garrison, nearly two hundred and fifty having
been killed or wounded, passed over to Red Bank. When the
British entered the deserted works the next morning, they found
nearly every cannon stained with the blood of its gallant de-
fenders.

Howe, having been heavily reinforced from New York, sent
Cornwallis with a superior body of troops along the left shore of
the Delaware. Red Bank was evacuated, part of the American
vessels escaping during a dark night up to Burlington, and the
rest being destroyed. The British leveled the fortifications,
removed a part of the obstructions, and soon had complete con-
trol of the river. Philadelphia was fortified, and Howe's position
became secure.

Winter had come, but Washington was unwilling to send his
men to York, Lancaster, or Carlisle, the nearest towns where
they could be comfortably housed, as that would leave a large
and fertile country open to the incursions of the enemy. So he
still kept his famishing and suffering army in the field. On the
night of December 4th, Howe quietly left Philadelphia with four-
teen thousand men, hoping to surprise Washington and "drive
the Federal army over the Blue Mountains." To his astonish-
ment, he found Washington occupying a strong position in
wooded heights at Whitemarsh, all ready to receive him. For
several days he skirmished about, trying to draw Washington

244 THIRD YEAR OF THE REVOLUTION. V^^mt.^

out of his camp, but finding this impossible, and not daring to
attack him in his chosen position, during the night of the 8th he
decamped and hastened back to Philadelphia, making such good
time that the next day none but the American light-horse could
overtake his rear-guard.

The secret of his failure may be easily told. The British
adjutant-general had fixed upon a back-chamber in the house of
William and Lydia Darrah, as a convenient place for private con-
ference ; and here he often met one or more officers in close
consultation. One day he requested Lydia to prepare the room
with fire and candles, as he should need it that evening, adding
in an impressive voice, ** Be sure that your family are all in bed at
an early hour." His manner excited her curiosity, and after they
had entered and locked themselves in their room, she quietly
arose, and in her stocking-feet stole to the door. Putting her ear
to the keyhole, she distinctly heard an order read for an attack on
Washington's troops the next night. Lydia was a true patriot^
and this order banished sleep from her eyes. In the early dawn
she awoke her husband and informed him that she was obliged to
go to Frankford that morning for flour. As the Philadelphians
were chiefly dependent on the Frankford mills, this was a frequent
occurrence, and a passport was readily furnished by General
Howe, at whose headquarters she stopped on her way out of the
city. She walked the five miles over the frozen snow that cold
December morning at her utmost speed, and, halting at the mill
only long enough to leave her bag, pressed rapidly on toward
the American lines. Meeting Lieutenant-Colonel Craig, whom
Washington had sent out as a scout, she relieved her mind of its
burden. Hastening back to the mill, she shouldered her bag of
flour and returned home without exciting suspicion. On the
return of the discomfited troops, the adjutant-general called her
to his room and proceeded to question her. " Lydia, were any
of your family up on the night I received company here ? '*
" No," she promptly replied, '' they all retired at eight o'clock,"
which was true. '' It is very strange," he pursued ; '' you, I
know, were asleep, for I knocked at your door three times before
you heard me when we left the house." This also was true, in so
far as his knocking was concerned ; for the subtle Lydia had too
much at stake to appear awake at that moment, and had feigned
the heaviest of slumber. " It is certain we were betrayed, yet
how I cannot imagine," he concluded, *' unless the walls of the

*^*f77*7.^''] THE CAMP AT VALLEY FORGE. 245

house tell tales." His meek listener left him to his own conjec-
tures, and respectfully retired.

Such was the condition of the soldiers and the severity of the
season, that it became absolutely necessary to provide them with
some shelter. Washington, after careful deliberation, selected
Valley Forge, a secluded spot about twenty miles from Phila-
delphia. Here he would be able to keep watch of the enemy and
protect the people from incursions. December nth, the army set
out on its painful march of eight days. Reaching their destination,
the men had yet to build their own houses. The i8th was ob-
served as a " day of thanksgiving and praise," says the record. It
must have been truly a patient heart that, in that extremity, could
have felt any response to such a recommendation of Congress.

The next day, the troops began to cut down trees and erect
log-houses over the sloping hill-sides. The huts were each four-
teen feet by sixteen ; the interstices were filled with clay ; the fire-
places were plastered with the same material ; and the roofs were
covered with split planks, or thatched with boughs. These rude
dwellings were arranged in regular streets, and within the Christ-
mas holidays the Valley took on quite the look of a military en-
campment.

While this work was going briskly forward, Washington re-
ceived news that the enemy was making a sortie toward Chester.
On orders being issued for the troops to be ready to march, the
generals replied, " Fighting is preferable to starving." The men,
already without bread for three and meat for two days, had muti-
nied. In this emergency, with his shivering, famishing men around
him, Washington learned that the Legislature of Pennsylvania had
remonstrated against his going into winter-quarters, instead of
keeping the field. It manifested a cruel indifference, and he in-
dignantly wrote to the president of Congress : " Gentlemen repro-
bate the going into winter-quarters as much as if they thought the
soldiers were made of stocks or stones, and equally insensible of
cold and hunger. * * * I can assure these gentlemen, that it
is a much easier, less distressing thing, to draw remonstrances in
a comfortable room, by a good fireside, than to occupy a 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 abundantly for them, and from my
soul I pity their distresses, which it is neither in my power to
relieve nor prevent."

246

THIRD YEAR OF THE REVOLUTION.

roec,
L1777.

This spirited rebuke did not still the clamor, and Washing-
ton was even advised to risk all and dash his little army to
pieces by hurling it against the strong entrenchments of the
English at Philadelphia, rather than endure longer the reproach
of inactivity.

Washington's headquarters at valley forge.

CHAPTER V.

FOUfkTH YEA(k OF THE (REVOLUTIOJ^—1778.

HE winter at Valley Forge was, in-
deed, the darkest period of all
that ** time which tried men's
souls." The Continental paper-
money was so depreciated in
value that an officer's pay would
not keep him in clothes. Many,
having spent their entire for-
tunes in the war, were now com-
pelled to resign, in order to get a
living. The men were encamped
in cold, comfortless huts, with
little food or clothing. Fre-
quently there was only one suit of clothes for two soldiers, which
they would take turns in wearing. Barefooted, they left on the
frozen ground their tracks in blood. Few had blankets. Num-
bers were compelled to sit by their fires all night. Their fuel
they were compelled to carry on their backs from the woods
where they cut it. Straw could not be obtained. Soldiers who
were enfeebled by hunger and benumbed by cold, slept on the
bare earth, and sickness followed such exposure. Within three
weeks, two thousand men were rendered unfit for duty. With no
change of clothing, no suitable food, and no medicines, death was
the only relief. A distinguished foreign officer has related that
at this time he was " walking one day with General Washington
among the huts, when he heard many voices echoing through the
open crevices between the logs, 'No pay, no clothes, no provisions,
no rum ! ' And when a miserable wretch was seen flitting from
one hut to another, his nakedness was only covered by a dirty
blanket."

248 FOURTH YEAR OF THE REVOLUTION. \_fj^^^

Amid this terrible suffering, the fires of patriotism burned
brightly. Every effort was made to induce the suffering soldiers
to desert and join the British army ; but few, however, proved
false, and these were mainly foreigners. Washington felt that
his cause was just, and inspired all around him with his sublime
faith. One day during the winter, while Isaac Potts, at whose
house Washington was quartered, was on his way up the creek,
he heard a voice of prayer in the thicket near by. Softly follow-
ing its direction, he soon discovered the general upon his knees,
his cheek wet with tears. Narrating this incident to his wife, he
added with deep emotion, ^' If there is any one to whom the Lord
will listen, it is George Washington, and under such a com-
mander our independence is certain."

In January, a raft made of kegs full of powder, and fitted with
machinery to explode them upon striking any object, was floated
down the river. One of the kegs burst opposite Philadelphia.
The fleet which had been lying in the stream happened to have
been drawn into the harbor that night, and so escaped injury.
Great alarm was caused in the city by this singular device of the
Yankees. The cannon were trained upon every strange object
floating on the water, and for twenty-four hours thereafter no
innocent chip even could get by without a shot. Judge Hopkin-
son wrote the following comic ballad upon the circumstance. It
^as set to the tune of Yankee Doodle :

THE BATTLE OF THE KEGS.

" Gallants attend, and hear a friend
Trill forth harmonious ditty ;
Strange things I'll tell, which late befell
In Philadelphia city.

** 'Twas early day, as poets say,
Just when the sun was rising,
A soldier stood on log of wood,
And saw a thing surprising.

•* As in amaze he stood to gaze,
(The truth can't be denied, sir),
He spied a score of kegs, or more,
Come floating down the tide, sir.

" A sailor, too, in jerkin blue,

The strange appearance viewing,
First wiped his eyes, in great surprise,
Then said, ' Some mischiefs brewing.

t778'J " BATTLE OF THE KEGS." ^49

" ' These kegs, I'm told, the rebels hold.
Packed up like pickled herring ;
And they've come down t'attack the town
In this new way of ferry'ng.'

" The soldier flew, the sailor too,
And, scared almost to death, sir,
Wore out their shoes to spread the news.
And ran till out of breath, sir.

** Now up and down, throughout the town,
Most frantic scenes were acted.
And some ran here, and others there.
Like men almost distracted.

** Now, in a fright, Howe starts upright,
Awaked by such a clatter ;
He rubs both eyes, and boldly cries,
• For God's sake, what's the matter?*

•* At his bedside, he then espied
Sir Erskine, at command, sir ;
Upon one foot he had one boot,
And t'other in his hand, sir.

" ' Arise ! arise ! ' Sir Erskine cries ;
' The rebels — more's the pity —
Without a boat, are all afloat.
And ranged before the city.

• * The motley crew, in vessels new,
With Satan for their guide, sir,
Pack'd up in bags, or wooden kegs,
Came driving down the tide, sir,

•* * Therefore prepare for bloody war ;
These kegs must all be routed ;
Or surely we despised shall be,
And British courage doubted.*

** The royal band now ready stand.
All ranged in dread array, sir,
With stomach stout to see it out,
And make a bloody day, sir.

•* The cannons roar from shore to shore,
The small-arms loud did rattle ;
Since war began, I'm sure no man
E'er saw so strange a battle.

7KO FOURTH YEAR OF THE REVOLUTION. L^ml^'

" The kegs, 'tis said, though strongly made
Of rebel staves and hoops, sir,
Could not oppose their powerful foes.
The conq'ring British troops, sir.

" From morn to night these men of might
Display'd amazing courage,
And when the sun was fairly down.
Retired to sup their porridge.

** A hundred men, with each a pen,
Or more, upon my word, sir,
It is most true, would be too few,
Their valor to record, sir.

" Such feats did they perform that day
Against those wicked kegs, sir,
That, years to come, if they get home,
They'll make their boasts and brags, sir."

Captain Henry Lee, afterward famous as *' Light-horse Harry,"
first came into notice for his daring exploits during the advance
of the British toward Philadelphia. He was the son of the " Low-
land beauty " who, in her early days, touched Washington's heart,
though she gave her own to another. The commander-in-chief
had a peculiar liking for this dashing young officer, and in the fall
of 1779 ordered all Lee's letters to be marked " private," that they
might come directly into his hands. On the night of January
2oth, an attempt was made to surprise the captain in his quar-
ters about six miles from Valley Forge. At daylight, he was
awakened to find his house surrounded by two hundred British
cavalry. Securing the doors, and placing his companions, seven
in all, each at a window, he maintained such a steady fire that,,
after a contest of half an hour, the enemy withdrew. They then
tried to capture his horses from the barn adjoining. Lee there-
upon dashed out with his men, exclaiming, " Fire away, here
comes our infantry ; we shall have them all ! " The British, sup-
posing help was at hand, fled precipitately. Lee's men, quickly
mounting their horses, pursued their late besiegers for a long
distance. On the recommendation of Washington, the gallant
captain received the rank of major, and was authorized to raise
an independent partisan corps, afterward known through the war
as " Lee's Legion."

The story of the Revolution is incomplete unless a peep be
taken behind the scenes, and some of the secret but unparal-

Jan.,"!
I778J

DEMORALIZATION OF THE PEOPLE.

251

leled difficulties experienced by the true heroes of the day be
thoroughly understood. Valley Forge was only a part of the
dark back-ground of the long struggle for Independence. It is a
common idea that ours is a degenerate age ; that 1776 was a time
of honor and honesty, of sincerity and devotion. To think this,
is to undervalue the achievements of our Revolutionary sires, as
well as to erect a false
standard with which to
compare the present.
Whoever supposes that

IN CAMP AT VALLEY FORGE.

the spirit of union
and of sacrifice was
unanimous among even
the great actors in the drama
of Independence, utterly fails
to comprehend the greatest
obstacles to the successful
prosecution of the war, and the ultimate Union of the States.

The war, as it progressed, seemed to demoralize all classes in
society. The pulpit, the press, and good men, sought in vain to
stem the tide of evil. While the army was suffering so much in
the cause of liberty, contractors became rich, and monopolists
hoarded the very necessaries of life. Trade with the royal troops
was opened on every side. Though the magazines at Valley Forge

252 FOURTH YEAR OF THE REVOLUTION. [1778.

were empty, and meat was often not seen for a week at a time,
the markets in Philadelphia were abundantly supplied. Washing-
ton, having received authority from Congress to seize provisions
for the troops and issue scrip therefor, ordered the farmers within
a radius of seventy miles to thresh out one-half of their grain by
February ist, and the rest by March ist, under penalty of having
it all seized as straw. The inhabitants refused, and, guns in hand,
stood guard over their stacks and cattle, even burning what they
could not sell, to prevent its falling into the hands of the famish-
ing patriot army. Men abandoned useful occupations to plunge
into stock -jobbing, gambling, and other disreputable pursuits;
counterfeited the public securities ; forged official signatures ; re-
fused to pay their honest debts, except in depreciated paper-
money ; and fattened upon the common necessities. Love of
country was declared to be an illusion. There were times when
private or public faith appeared to be the exception. Washing-
ton, alarmed at this enemy in the rear — this new peril which
threatened the country — wrote that ''idleness, dissipation and
extravagance seem to have laid fast hold of most; speculation,
peculation, and an insatiate thirst for riches have got the better
of every other consideration and almost every order of men."

At first the masses were enthusiastic ; but as the contest wore
on, the slow friction of the struggle became irksome, and, in many
quarters, apathy was almost universal. During the flight across
New Jersey, not one hundred volunteers from that State rallied
under the flag of their only defender. The Maryland militia, sent
to Washington's aid just before the battle of Germantown, lost
half its number by desertion. When Pennsylvania was overrun
by the British, and the Federal capital in the hands of the enemy,
there were only twelve hundred Pennsylvania militia in the
army. Recruiting was slow ; very few enlistments were secured
for three years, or during the war. Sabine says " that the price
paid for a single recruit was sometimes as high as one thousand
dollars, besides the bounty offered by Congress ; and that one hun-
dred and fifty dollars in specie was given for only five months
service." The soldier might be pardoned for deserting the cause
of a country that would neither pay him nor feed him ; but what
should be thought of a people that, before the war, could import
one and a half million dollars worth of tea annually, besides
other luxuries, and yet allow the men who were fighting for its
liberties to starve and freeze in this hour of peril ?

1778.] DEMORALIZATION IN THE ARMY. 253

Even in the army which was engaged in protecting the dearest
rights of man, all were not patriots nor honest men. Whigs were
plundered under the pretence of being tories. Parties of a dozen
or twenty men at a time returned home, or took refuge in the
newer settlements of the country. In 1781, one thousand men
perjured themselves to escape from the service, taking advantage
of an error in the date of their enlistment. Some joined the
royalist regiments, and became spies, guides, and informers.
Bounty-jumpers infested the ranks. Drunkenness and theft were
by no means uncommon. A foreigner of rank dying at Washing-
ton's quarters, and being buried with his jewels and costly cloth-
ing, a guard was placed over his grave to prevent the soldiers
from digging up his body for plunder. Nor were the officers
always better than their men. There were those who used for
their own gratification, money designed to pay the troops under
their command : who violated their furloughs, and grossly neg-
lected their duty. Courts-martial were frequent, and long lists
of the cashiered were from time to time forwarded to Congress.
Washington declared that the officers sent him from one State
were "not fit to be shoe-blacks," and wrote to a certain governor
that the officers from his State were " generally from the lowest
class, and led their men into every kind of mischief." Many of
the surgeons, too, he complained, were rascals, receiving bribes
to grant discharges, and applying to their private use the luxuries
designed for the sick. There were constant feuds among the
officers for rank and position. " I am wearied to death," wrote
John Adams in 1777, " by the wrangles between military officers,
high and low. They quarrel like cats and dogs."

Members of Congress lost heart. Many of the strong men
stayed at home and weaklings took their place. For some time
only twenty -one members were present. A bitter opposition to
Washington was developed, and while the demands upon him as
commander-in-chief were as exacting as ever, his recommenda-
tions and well-known opinions were openly thwarted or quietly
ignored. Arnold was the oldest brigadier-general, and, in the
opinion of Washington, there was '' no more active, spirited, or
sensible officer"; yet he was passed over in promotion. Stark,
than whom none was braver, was also slighted, and he retired to
his plow, and remained at home, until he came to Bennington to
show how a victory could be won with raw militia. Gates was
appointed adjutant-general without consulting Washington as to

254 FOURTH YEAR OF THE REVOLUTION. [1778.

whom he desired for chief of his staff. The commissary depart-
ment was reorganized against Washington's expressed wishes.
Colonel Trumbull, an efficient commissary-general, at once re-
signed. Henceforth the bad working of that department caused
continual delays and disasters. Mifflin, the quartermaster-
general, was disgracefully unmindful of his duties. Washington
never could get a stock of provisions on hand for any movement
that he contemplated. Indeed, it is said that during the dreary
march to Valley Forge, when the shivering troops left lines of
red behind them from their bruised and bleeding feet, that
" hogsheads of shoes, stockings, and clothing were lying at dif-
ferent places on the roads and in the woods, perishing for want
of teams, or of money to pay the teamsters."

Officers who were jealous of Washington found men in the
national council to listen to and even sympathize with them in
their complaints. At first. General Charles Lee was considered a
rival of Washington, and the victory which others achieved for
him at Charleston, was contrasted with the disastrous defeat on
Long Island. Then Gates was brought to the front, and Saratoga
was put by the side of Brandywine to Washington's disadvan-
tage. Indeed, Gates, after the surrender of Burgoyne, did not
report to the head of the army, as courtesy and military usage
demanded, but direct to Congress, Washington only receiving
tidings of the event through hearsay and unofficial letters. Had
Gates dispatched his army at once to Pennsylvania after the sur-
render, as Washington desired and earnestly entreated, Howe
might have been driven from Philadelphia, and the same fall,
perhaps, his whole force captured, and Saratoga re-enacted at the
Quaker city. Yet Congress, influenced, doubtless, by the advice
of jealous officials, forbade Washington to detach any troops from
the northern army without consulting General Gates and the
governor of New York. It was only with the greatest difficulty
and by finally sending his favorite aid, Alexander Hamilton, with
peremptory orders from the commander-in-chief, that he secured
reinforcements either from Gates or from Putnam.

At last a cabal was organized to displace Washington from his
post and elevate Gates in his stead. Chief in this movement was
General Conway, a wily, unprincipled intriguer. Pennsylvania
sent a remonstrance to Congress against the measures of Wash-
ington. Members from Massachusetts re-echoed their disappro-
bation. While the patriot army was marking out the path of

1778.]

INTRIGUES AGAINST WASHINGTON.

255

liberty with blood-stained feet, John Adams could write : " I wish
the Continental army would prove that anything can be done.
I am weary with so much insipidity." Samuel Adams, who was
still more impatient, declared : '* I have always been so very
wrong-headed as not to be over-well pleased with what is called
the Fabian war in America." Benjamin Rush, in a similar strain,
affirmed that '' a Gates, a Lee, and a Conway in a few weeks
could render the army an irresistible body of men."

In October, 1777, a board of war was created to have the
general direction of military affairs. Gates became its president.
He was urged to hasten on and
save the country. Conway was
made inspector-general, and his
office declared independent of
the commander-in-chief. By
the advice of the board, an ex-
pedition to Canada was planned,
and, in order to detach Lafayette
from Washington, to whom he
clung with a chivalrous devo-
tion, he was appointed to the
command. With the quick ap-
prehension of a loving heart, he
detected the animus of the cabal.
By the advice of Washington,
however, he accepted the post.
Proceeding to Yorktown, he
found Gates at table, and was at
once invited to join the repast.
Toasts were given, and drunk in
full glasses, according to the custom of the day. The marquis
noticed a significant omission, and so offered as a sentiment,
*' Our commander-in-chief." It was drunk in silence. Washing-
ton did all he could to fit out the expedition, but no one else
aided, and Lafayette, indignant and disgusted at the failure of
those who had promised him so much, returned to his friend and
adviser.

Washington was aware of these intrigues to remove him,
but in perfect equipoise of mind and temper, with a patriotism
that no disappointment or treachery could chill, and a noble
superiority to all which affected only his personal reputation, he

MARQUIS DE LAFAYETTE.

256 FOURTH YEAR OF THE REVOLUTION. [^j^f^

wrote to Patrick Henry these magnificent words: '' If the cause

IS ADVANCED, INDIFFERENT IS IT TO ME WHERE OR IN WHAT

QUARTER IT HAPPENS." Such generosity and devotion could but
triumph at last. The army and most of the best men of the
country implicitly trusted Washington. Their indignation
toward his enemies was unbounded. The whole movement
finally recoiled on the heads of its instigators. Congress began
to perceive its error. The cabal lost its power. Neither Con-
way nor Samuel Adams dared to show himself among the sol-
diers. The office of inspector was taken from the former, and
given to Baron Steuben.

At the last, however, Conway was the only one of the in-
triguers magnanimous enough to confess his fault. General
Cadwallader, who was Washington's devoted friend, was so in-
censed at his attempt to injure the commander-in-chief that he
challenged him to personal combat. Conway, being wounded,
mortally, as he believed, wrote the following letter to General
Washington: "Sir: — I find myself just able to hold my pen
during a few minutes, and take this opportunity of expressing my
sincere grief for having done, written, or said anything disagree-
able to your excellency. My career will soon be over ; therefore,
justice and truth prompt me to declare my last sentiments. You
are, in my eyes, the great and good man. May you long enjoy
the love, esteem, and veneration of these States, whose liberties
you have asserted by your virtues." Washington, too great to
harbor resentment, said, as he closed the epistle, " Poor Conway !
He never could have intended much wrong ; there is nothing to
forgive."

The particulars of this duel, as related in Garden's Anecdotes
of the Revolution, so well illustrate the manner of conducting
those affairs that they appear worthy of record. They show, says
the narrator, that " though imperious circumstances may compel
men of nice feeling to meet, the dictates of honor may be satisfied
without the smallest deviation from the most rigid rules of polite-
ness. When arrived at the appointed rendezvous. General Cad-
wallader accompanied by General Dickinson of Pennsylvania, and
General Conway by Colonel Morgan of Princeton, it was agreed
by the seconds that on the word being given, the principals
might fire in their own time, and at discretion, either by an off-
hand shot, or by taking a deliberate aim. The parties having de-
clared themselves ready, the word was given to proceed. Gen-

^1778^'] ARRIVAL OF BARON STEUBEN. 257

eral Conway immediately raised his pistol and fired with great
composure, but without effect. General Cadwallader was about
to do so, when a sudden gust of wind occurring, he kept his pistol
down and remained tranquil. * Why do you not fire. General
Cadwallader?' exclaimed Conway. 'Because,' replied General
Cadwallader, ' we came not here to trifle. Let the gale pass and
I shall act my part.' ' You shall have a fair chance of performing
it well,' rejoined Conway, and immediately presented a full front.
General Cadwallader fired, and his ball entering the mouth of his
antagonist, he fell directly forward on his face. Colonel Morgan
running to his assistance, found the blood spouting from behind
his neck, and lifting up the club of his hair, saw the ball drop from
it. It had passed through his head, greatly to the derangement
of his tongue and teeth, but did not inflict a mortal wound. As
soon as the blood was sufficiently washed away to allow him
to speak, General Conway, turning to his opponent, said, good-
humoredly, * You fire, general, with much deliberation, and cer-
tainly with a great deal of effect.' The parties then retired free
from all resentment."

Early in February, there arrived in camp at Valley Forge,
Baron Steuben, a veteran of the Seven Years War under Fred-
erick the Great. His advent was hailed with enthusiasm. The
raw militia troops presented a sorry appearance to this able dis-
ciplinarian, accustomed to the exact order of the Prussian army ;
but he had sense to see what was needed, and to adapt his methods
to the peculiar condition of the country. Soon the whole army
was under drill, Steuben personally supervising every detail, even
to the examination of each soldier's musket and accoutrements.
His ignorance of the language was a sore worry and embarrass-
ment to him, especially when he sought to explain any difficult
manoeuvre to his raw learners. " The men blundered in their
exercise ; the baron blundered in his English ; his French and
German were of no avail ; he lost his temper, which was rather
warm ; swore in all three languages at once, which made the
matter worse," and was in an agony of despair until a New York
officer, who spoke French, stepped forward and offered his ser-
vices as interpreter. '' Had I seen an angel from heaven," records
the relieved Prussian, " I could not have been more rejoiced."
Under his skillful discipline, the army, officers as well as men,
soon showed marked signs of improvement.

Baron Steuben had brought over with him a superior French

258 FOURTH YEAR OF THE REVOLUTION. ["^fy's!'

cook to serve in the camp. This personage was horrified to find
no utensils or conveniences for preparing the choice dishes on
which he longed to show his skill. He applied to one of the men
for information. " We cook our meat," was the reply, ^' by hang-
ing it up by a string, and turning it before a good fire till suffi-
ciently roasted." The poor cook, appalled at such a state of
affairs, received the daily rations of beef and bread with the hope-
less air of a martyr. He loved his master, and, with many shrugs
and sighs and some oaths, tried to accommodate himself to the
trying situation ; but at last his patience was exhausted, and he
-sought the baron's presence. " Under happier circumstances,
mon General^' he said, " it would be my ambition to serve you ;
but here I have no chance to show my talents, and my honor
obliges me to spare you my expense, since your wagoner is just as
^ble to turn the string as I am.'' Baron Steuben afterward told
this story with great effect to a company which expressed some
surprise at the resignation of Robert Morris as government finan-
cier. *^ Believe me, gentlemen," said the baron, *' the treasury of
America is just as empty as was my kitchen at Valley Forge ; and
Mr. Morris wisely retires, thinking it of very little consequence who
turns the string ^

On March 2d, General Greene was appointed Quartermaster-
General. He accepted the position for a year without compensa-
tion. His efficient measures soon changed the condition of affairs.
Provisions began to appear in camp. Even " Grim-visaged War,"
when well fed, wore a smile. Ladies, too, lent their charming
presence. The little parlor of Mrs. Greene, who spoke French,
quickly became a favorite resort for foreign officers, where her
wit and graceful tact made her a reigning queen. Mrs. Washing-
ton also came to spend the winter, and brighten the anxious life
of her husband. At the little soirees '' there was tea or coffee,
and pleasant conversation always, and music often ; no one who
Jiad a good voice being allowed to refuse a song." The courtly
Morris and the brilliant Reed were there ; and Charles Carroll,
who was to outlive them nearly all; and Knox, whom Greene
loved as a brother ; the loved and trusted Lafayette ; the gener-
ous Steuben; and the stately De Kalb, who, as the soldier of
Louis XV., had served against Steuben and his royal master
Frederick, in the Seven Years War; the dignified Sullivan and
the gallant "Mad Anthony" Wayne; and a host of others who
forgot for a while the horrors and hardships of a soldier's life in

Wlay 2-20, -|
1778. J

ALLIANCE WITH FRANCE.

259

LOUIS XVI., MARIE ANTOINETTE, AND
THE DAUPHIN.

the delightful intercourse of friendship. Gates was transferred to
the northern department again, and made subject to Washing-
ton's orders.

The capture of Burgoyne giving confidence to France, and the
queen, Marie Antoinette, being our hearty ally, Louis XVI. was
finally persuaded to acknowledge the
independence of the United States
and to make common cause with the
Americans. May 2d, a messenger ar-
rived in this country with the glad
news. Four days after, there was a
fete at Valley Forge, and a salute was
fired in honor of Louis XVL The
disaster to Burgoyne, and the French
Alliance, produced a great effect in
England. There was a loud cry to
put an end to the useless contest.
The minority in parliament, op-
posed to the government, again raised its warning voice. Fox
wished to have the colonies declared free at once. Lord North's

" Conciliatory Bills," as they were
termed, were readily passed.
These authorized the appoint-
ment of commissioners to treat
for peace with the government of
the United Colonies. They could
not grant independence, however,
and that alone would satisfy the
"rebels"; and so nothing came
of the attempt at a reconciliation.
General Howe's military career in the United States had not
proved a success. He now resigned. The close of his inglorious
residence in Philadelphia was celebrated by a famous pageant or
mischianza, a sort of medley of tournament and regatta. Its
splendor and mock heroics were the theme of merriment and
wonder in the staid Quaker city for many a day.

Just after this festival, Howe received news that Lafayette,
with a large force, had taken post at Barren Hills, twelve miles
nearer Philadelphia than Valley Forge, to watch the British army
more closely. To cut off this detachment would shed a parting
gleam of glory over his American career. He sent out General

aiEDAL COMMEMORATING THE ALLIANCE BETWEEN
FRANCE AND THE UNITED STATES.

26o FOURTH YEAR OF THE REVOLUTION. [''"778.^*

Grant by night with a picked body of men, while he followed
with the main force. Lafayette was nearly taken ; but, by a skill-
ful manoeuvre, he seized the only ford not guarded by the enemy,
made a feint of attacking Grant, and while that general was get-
ting ready for battle, the brave young Frenchman was on his way
to Washington. Howe came back weary and disappointed from
his bootless expedition.

Clinton, who succeeded Howe, received orders to evacuate
Philadelphia and to concentrate his forces at New York. As the
commissioners, who had been sent over, as we have seen, to
restore the old condition of affairs, landed in Philadelphia, they
found the flight already begun. Sad was the fate of the aban-
doned tories. " The winter's revelry was over ; honors and
offices turned suddenly to bitterness and ashes, and papers of
protection were only a peril." Three thousand houseless fugi-
tives, carrying all they could save from the wreck, followed the
army. Washington rapidly pursued the British across New
Jersey. General Charles Lee held the advance. He had orders
to attack the enemy ; instead, he grossly neglected his duty, even
if he did not treacherously lead his troops into peril.

It was a hot, sultry Sunday morning, June 28th. Washington,
sitting on his horse near the Freehold meeting-house, west of
Monmouth, was planning for the battle now just beginning, as
he thought from the few dropping shots in the distance. Sud-
denly he was startled by the news that the Americans were
falling back. Spurring forward, he found the advance-guard in
full flight before an overwhelming force. Riding up to Lee, he
demanded, " Whence arises this disorder and confusion ? " Lee
could only stammer " Sir — sir." Not a minute could be lost.
The genius of Washington never shone out more fully than now.
Rallying the fugitives and judiciously posting a battery, he
checked the pursuit upon a narrow causeway traversing a deep
morass. A new line of battle was formed back of the swamp.
General Stirling commanding the left, Greene the right, and
Washington the centre. Wayne was posted in advance, under
the protection of an orchard and a battery on Comb's Hill. The
British attacking the left and right were several times repulsed.
Finally Monckton advanced upon Wayne at the head of the
English grenadiers. So perfect was their discipline and so accu-
rately did they march, that it is said that a single ball striking in
line with a platoon disarmed every man. As they came close to

June 28,1
1778. J

BATTLE OF MONMOUTH.

261

the American position, their leader waved his sword for the
charge. Wayne at the same moment gave the order to fire. Every
British officer fell. The men fought desperately over Monckton's
body ; but the whole line finally gave way, and the patriots took
possession of the hotly-contested field. Washington was prepar-
ing in turn to attack the enemy, when night closed the struggle.
Under cover of the darkness, Clinton withdrew his men. The
American loss was about two hundred and thirty ; the English

MOLLY PITCHER AT THE BATTLE OF MONMOUTH.

lost over four hundred, and eight hundred more deserted their
colors before they reached New York. Many of the troops on
both sides, it is said, fell from the intense heat (ninety-six degrees
in the shade) without a wound.

During the day an artillery man was shot at his post. His
wife, Mary Pitcher — a " red-haired, freckled-faced young Irish-
woman," who was already distinguished for having fired the last
gun at Fort Clinton—while bringing water to her husband from a
spring, saw him fall and heard the commander order the piece to
be removed from the field. Instantly dropping the pail, she
hastened to the cannon, seized the rammer, and with great skill
and courage performed her husband's duty. The soldiers gave
her the nickname of Captain Molly. On the day after the battle,
she was presented to Washington, and received a sergeant's com-

262 FOURTH YEAR OF THE REVOLUTION. [''"'y ^

mission with half-pay through life. Her bravery made her a
great favorite among the French officers, and she would some-
times pass along the lines holding out her cocked-hat, which they
would nearly fill with crown pieces.

Lee, after Washington's rebuke, did nothing except to sit idly
in the rear and declaim upon the madness of the attempt to fight
the enemy. The next day he wrote to the general demanding
an apology. Washington having replied in a dignified manner^
Lee returned a most insulting letter, in which he grandiloquently
expressed a hope that "■ temporary power of office and the tinsel
dignity attending it would not be able, by the mists they could
raise, to obfuscate the bright rays of truth." He was court-mar-
tialled and suspended for a year. Later, for obtaining money
from British officers, and for an insulting letter to Congress, he
was dismissed from the service.

Washington moved his army to the North River. In August,
he thus wrote from White Plains : " After two years manoeuvring
and the strangest vicissitudes, both armies are brought back to
the very point they set out from, and the offending party at the
beginning is now reduced to the use of the spade and pickaxe for
defence. The hand of Providence has been so conspicuous in all
this, that he must be worse than an infidel that lacks faith, and
more than wicked that has not gratitude enough to acknowledge
his obligations."

Congress now returned to Philadelphia. On the 15 th of
November, 1777, it had agreed upon articles of confederation for
the closer union of the several States and the more perfect har-
mony of their action. These had been accepted by eight of the
States. The others were now called upon to "■ conclude the
glorious compact." All agreed except Maryland, which refused
on the plea that the public lands northwest of the Ohio should be
the common property of the States. So the subject was post-
poned, and the general government dragged along its feeble exist-
ence, having, indeed, the right to advise and appoint, but being
destitute of any power to demand or enforce. It was the era of
State rights.

The French fleet under Count d'Estaing having arrived off
the coast, a combined land and naval expedition was planned to
recover Rhode Island. Sullivan was placed in charge of the
troops. Washington spared two brigades from his weakened
ranks. New England in twenty days increased his forces to ten

'J^'/s.'] MASSACRE AT WYOMING. 265

thousand men. On the 29th of July, the French entered Narra-
gansett Bay. Some days after, Howe arrived off the harbor with
the EngHsh fleet. D'Estaing went out to meet him. A terrible
storm came on, which so shattered both fleets that they were
compelled to put back for repairs — the English to New York and
the French to Boston. General Sullivan, though deserted, was
loath to leave. Just as he began his retreat, the English at-^
tempted to cut off his right wing. Greene, by a brilliant attack,
drove back the enemy, and secured the escape of the army just
in time to avoid Clinton, who came up from New York with rein-
forcements for the British. The French gave no further aid dur-
ing the year.

The beautiful Valley of Wyoming, famed in history and song,
was settled mainly from Connecticut. The charter of that
colony was older than that of Pennsylvania, and gave it a strip
of land extending from sea to sea. Differences naturally arose
with the Pennsylvania government. These were finally settled
by an appeal to the king, who decided in favor of Connecticut..
The colony was therefore created as the town of Westmoreland,
and attached to Litchfield county. These local disputes faded
out only in the more absorbing topics of the Revolution. This
valley, smiling in peace and plenty, now lay open to attack from
the Six Nations, who bitterly remembered the slaughter of their
braves at Oriskany and panted for revenge. The able-bodied
men were in the Continental regiments, and though they urged
the defenceless condition of their wives and children. Congress
took little or no action in their behalf. The women and the old
men plowed, sowed, reaped, and made gunpowder for the little
garrison in their forts, obtaining the nitre by leaching the soil
under the floors of their houses.

Early in the summer a force of five or six hundred men,
consisting of Butler's Rangers, Johnson's Royal Greens, and a
body of Indians, principally Senecas, under a celebrated chief
named Giengwatah, or The-one-who-goes-in-the-smoke, dropped
down the Chemung and Susquehanna Rivers in canoes, and on July
1st appeared in the Wyoming Valley. All was dismay. Those who
could, fled to their forts. Two of their strongholds were quickly
captured. Colonel Zebulon Butler of the Continental army, who
happened to be at home, took command of the forlorn hope of
three hundred soldiers — old men and boys — all that could be
mustered for the defence of their homes. With these he marched

264 FOURTH YEAR OF THE REVOLUTION. Uma.'

out to meet the enemy. He found them near Wintermoot's
Fort, near the site of the present village of Troy, ready to meet
him. Outnumbered from the first, the Americans could have
little hope. They held their ground bravely, however, for half
an hour, when, their left being outflanked by an Indian ambush.
Colonel Denison, in command at that point, gave the order to fall
back. He was misunderstood, and the fatal word " retreat " was
passed down the lines. The Indians sprang from their coverts,
and a terrible massacre ensued. Few of the patriots escaped.
Some were slain on the banks of the river ; some were toma-
hawked among the bushes ; some fled to an island and were hunted
to death. The Senecas took two hundred and twenty-five scalps.
No mercy was shown. One tory brutally murdered his own
brother while crying for quarter. Lieutenant Shoemaker, ^' whom
to know was to love," was treacherously tomahawked by Win-
decker, a man who had often received his generous bounty.

That night, tories and Indians held high carnival. Captain
Bidlack was thrown on the burning embers of the fort and
held down with pitchforks till he expired. Sixteen prisoners
were arranged around a large stone, still known as Queen
Esther's rock. The savages held them while a Seneca half-
breed by that name walked slowly round the circle, singing a
death-song and striking them one by one, alternately with her
hatchet and mallet. Two of the captives, breaking away, escaped
to the bushes under a shower of balls. The next day, the forts
surrendered. Though lives were spared thereafter, robbery and
arson ran riot. Butler could not restrain his savage allies. The
inhabitants fled from the scene of terror. The swamp through
which they made their way is remembered to this day as the
Shades of Death. Children were born and buried in this terrible
flight. Many were lost in the wilderness and perished miserably.
The fainting survivors straggled into the settlements on the other
side of the mountains, famine-stricken and desolate. Meantime
the savages pillaged and burned their deserted houses. Decked
in their booty, they at last withdrew. " The appearance of the
retiring enemy," says Lossing, '' was extremely ludicrous, aside
from the melancholy savagism that was presented. Many
squaws accompanied the invaders, and these brought up the rear.
Some had belts around their waists, made of scalps stretched
on small hoops ; some had on from four to six dresses of chintz
or silk, one over the other ; and others, mounted on stolen horses,

^?778-9.""] OPERATIONS IN THE WEST. 265

and seated * not sidewise, but otherwise,' had on their heads four
or five bonnets, one within another."

Clinton, after his bootless expedition to Newport, returned to
New York, detaching, however, Grey, of Paoli massacre mem-
ory, to ravage the New England coast. New Bedford, Fair
Haven, and Martha's Vineyard were laid waste. In September,
Cornwallis led a foray into New Jersey, during which " No-flint
Grey " surprised Baylor's light-horse while they were quietly
resting in some barns in Old Tappan. Cries for mercy fell on
deaf ears. Eleven of the dragoons were butchered, and twenty-
five desperately mangled by bayonet thrusts, some receiving as
many as sixteen wounds. At the same time, Captain Ferguson
emulated his rival in the bayonet exercise by destroying the ship-
ping in Little Egg Harbor, and thence scouring the adjacent
country, burning the houses of those who were pointed out as
patriots by the tories who accompanied the expedition. Count
Pulaski had been sent out with his legion to check these preda-
tory incursions. Ferguson, going up the river in boats during
the night of the 15th of October, noiselessly surrounded the
house in which Pulaski's infantry was quartered. " It being a
night attack," wrote the captain afterward in his report, " little
quarter could be given, so there were only five prisoners ^

The western part of Virginia and Kentucky would have suf-
fered equally with Wyoming Valley had it not been for the energy
and vigilance of Colonel Clark. Hamilton, the British general at
Detroit, was busy in organizing parties of savages for forays upon
the defenceless frontier settlement. He offered rewards for scalps,
not for prisoners, and was known as the ** hair-buying general."
Clark, by a bold dash, seized Kaskaskia, and the county of Illinois
became a part of Virginia. Hamilton, thereupon invading the
country, summoned the post of Vincennes to surrender. Captain
Helm had but one man as garrison, but maintained a bold front,
and standing with lighted match over a cannon, he deceived the
enemy and secured the honors of war. Hamilton was now more
active than ever in preparing for bloody work. The ensuing win-
ter, Clark, whose situation looked desperate, finding that Hamil-
ton had sent off" most of his men on predatory excursions, sud-
denly set out in January with one hundred and thirty bold men
to recapture Vincennes. The river was high, and in crossing the
"drowned lands" of the Wabash they had to wade for miles with
the icy water breast high. But he resolutely kept on, and laid

266 FOURTH YEAR OF THE REVOLUTION. l^nie?'

siege to the fort, which, with its garrison and governor, fell into
his hands.

The loth of November saw the terrible scenes of Wyoming
repeated in Cherry Valley, New York. A body of tories, regulars
and Indians, under Walter Butler, son of John Butler, and Brandt,
the Mohawk chief, crept into this settlement under cover of the
early morning mist. The fort, garrisoned by Continental troops,
was too strong to be carried, but over thirty of the inhabitants —
men, women and children — were murdered, and all the houses
fired. Brandt showed mercy at times, but the tories, " more
savage than the savages," knew no pity. Mr. Wells was cut
down while at prayer. A mother and her innocent babe were
slain in bed together. After the marauders had gone away with
their booty, the survivors timidly stole back to find the mangled
bodies of fathers, mothers, wives, husbands and children amid the
burning timbers of their homes.

Brandt afterward pushed his incursions mto Orange county.
Here, we are told, one day the savages came to a school-house
which was filled with young children. They took the school-
master into the woods and killed him. They then clove the skulls
of several of the boys with their tomahawks ; but the little girls,
who stood looking on horror-struck, and waiting for instant
death, were spared. A tall savage — it was Brandt — dashed a
mark of black paint upon their aprons, and when the other sav-
ages saw it they left them unharmed. Swift as an inspiration, the
little girls resolved to save their brothers. They flung over them
their aprons, and when the next Indians passed by, they were
spared for the mark they bore.

The Six Nations had not taken the field until 1777 at the
battle of Oriskany. Their determination to bear arms against
the colonists, with whom they had fought so bravely during the
French and Indian war, was due to the influence of the Johnsons.
Sir William had been knighted for the victory of Lake George.
After the war, he received a tract of one hundred thousand acres
north of the Mohawk, long known as '' Kingsland." In 1764, he
built Johnson Hall, near Johnstown, about twenty-five miles west
of Schenectady.

Here he lived with the splendor of an old feudal baron, and
dispensed a lavish hospitality. His influence over the Indians
was almost unbounded. Many anecdotes are told of his shrewd-
ness in dealing with them. Allen relates that on his receiving

1775-1778.] THE JOHNSONS AND THE SIX NATIONS. 267

from England some fine laced clothes, the Mohawk chief, Hen-
drick, desiring to equal the baronet in the splendor of his apparel,
with a demure face pretended to have dreamed that Sir William
had presented him with a suit of the decorated garments. As the
solemn hint could not be mistaken or avoided, the Indian mon-
arch was gratified, and went away highly pleased with the success
of his device. But, alas for Hendrick's short-sighted sagacity, in
a few days. Sir William, in turn, had a dream, to the effect that
the chief had given him several thousand acres of land. " The
land is yours," said Hendrick ; " but now, Sir William, I never
dream with you again ; you dream too hard for me."

When the difficulties arose with England, the contest in Sir
William's mind between his love of liberty and his loyalty to the
king brought on a fit of apoplexy, of which he died. His son and
heir. Sir John Johnson, and his sons-in-law. Colonel Guy Johnson
and Colonel Claus, felt no reluctance in supporting the royal
cause. They at first fortified their stone mansions in the Mohawk
Valley, armed their Scotch tenants, and, with their adherents, the
Butlers of Try on county, and Brandt, the great Mohawk sachem,
prepared for defence. Finally they all fled to Canada. The Six
Nations declared for the crown. Sir John raised a body of tories,
known as the Royal Greens. Their names were henceforth asso-
ciated with deeds of crime and bloodshed, in which the tories far
surpassed their Indian allies. Wyoming and Cherry Valleys
were only illustrations on a large scale of minor massacres which
kept in continued dread the entire frontier to the very suburbs
of Albany.

The peace commissioners returning to England after their
unsuccessful mission to the United States, were fierce in their
denunciations. " No quarter," exclaimed one of their number,
** ought to be shown to their Congress. If the infernals could be
let loose on them, I should approve the measure." The govern-
ment did not have it all its own way, however. The Bishop of
Peterborough called attention to the significant fact that in the
army-appropriation was an item for " scalping-knives " ; and many
followed him denouncing the use of such instruments of war.

The English, discouraged by their repeated failures in the
Eastern and Middle States, now decided to transfer their forces to
the South. Henceforth, the Revolutionary struggle was mainly
confined to that field. In combination with various minor move-
ments, three thousand men, under Lieutenant-Colonel Campbell,

268 FOURTH YEAR OF THE REVOLUTION. [°i778.''

were sent from New York, and on December 23d appeared off
Tybee Island. Soon after, the fleet passed the bar and the troops
landed near Five-fathom Hole. General Howe, with his little
army of militia, not a third as large as that of the enemy, resolved
to fight for the defence of Savannah. He accordingly took a
strong position at the head of a causeway, with a swamp on one
side and rice-fields on the other. The British, having driven his
advance from Brewton's Hill, manoeuvred as if to assault in front.
Meanwhile, guided by a negro named Quamino Dolly, Sir James
Baird and a party passed through a by-path in the swamp and
turned the American position. The patriots, attacked at once in
front and rear, soon gave way in despair. Some were drowned
in the swamp, and many were captured. The pursuers, chasing
the refugees through the town, bayoneted several unarmed citi-
zens whom they found on the streets. So the English captured
Savannah, the capital of Georgia, including all its extensive stores,
with a total loss of only twenty-four killed and wounded. The
captives, refusing to enlist in the British army, were hurried
into the prison-ships to speedily die of disease. Protection was
offered to those of the inhabitants who would return to their
allegiance. Numbers flocked to the British standard, while many
patriots fled to the uplands and to Carolina.

After his gallant exploit at Charleston, Sergeant Jasper re-
ceived from Colonel Moultrie a roving commission entitling him
to form a scouting command. His spies often proved of great
service to the American army. At one time, he remained in
Savannah, after its capture by the British, several days, collect-
ing valuable information concerning the English forces and their
position. Some of his adventures were full of romance. One,
especially, has become historical.

Near Ebenezer, he met a Mrs. Jones, whose story awakened
his sympathies. Her husband had taken the oath of allegiance to
the British government, but afterward joined the American
army. Having been captured, he was now, with several compan-
ions, en route to Savannah, to be tried and probably hanged. Ser-
geant Jasper and his friend Newton determined to rescue the
prisoners. Thinking that the party would stop to drink at a
pleasant spring about two miles out of Savannah, the two patriots
went ahead, and, hiding themselves in the bushes near by, awaited
the turn of affairs. Upon reaching the point, the guard stacked
arms, leaving two of their number in charge of the prisoners.

1778.]

EXPLOIT OF SERGEANT JASPER.

269

Taking advantage of a moment when the sentinels' backs were
turned, Jasper and Newton sprang from their covert, seized the
guns, shot the two armed soldiers, and called upon the rest to
surrender. They had no resource but to yield. The irons were
knocked off the prisoners and placed on the late guard. The
whole party then, redeemed friends and captive soldiers, marched
into the American camp at Purysburg.

The next year, when Jasper lay dying before the fortifications
of Savannah, his last words were, '' Tell Jones, his wife and son,
that the remembrance of the battle I fought for them brought a
secret joy to my heart when it was about to stop its motion for-
ever." The spring, named after Jasper, is now neatly walled in,
and is the resort of hundreds of visitors.

JOSEPH BRANDT.

(J^r^M a Painting by CatUn.)

CHAPTER VI

FIFTH YEAfR OF THE ^EVOLUTIOJ^—iyjg.

ITH the opening of the year the
English vigorously pushed their
success at the South. General
Prevost, commanding the royal
forces in Florida, marched across
the wilderness, captured Sun-
bury, the only fort in Georgia
occupied by the Americans,
reached Savannah, and assumed
command. Campbell was sent
to take possession of Augusta.
The whole State lay at his mercy.
Sir James Wright was reinstated
governor, and all things were restored as in the good old times
before the war. England could once more boast of a royal pro-
vince among her former colonies. The conquest of South Caro-
lina now seemed imminent. Meanwhile, Major-General Lincoln
had arrived to take command of the patriot troops in the southern
department. His little force of eleven hundred men was en-
camped on the Savannah, near Purysburg. Port Royal being
taken by a British detachment which landed from their ships,
Moultrie was sent to drive them out. Rallying some militia to
his standard, he accomplished the task in gallant style.

A large body of North Carolina royalists having started to
join Prevost at Augusta, Colonel Pickens, with a party of citizens
from Ninety-Six, fell upon them at Kettle Creek as they were
plundering about the country, and put them to rout. Seventy of
the prisoners were tried by jury and convicted of treason. Five
of the most influential were executed. This mode of treating pris-
oners of war was a dangerous precedent, and served as an excuse
to the British for similar usage on a more extended scale.

»^aj-779!^y'J CAMPAIGN IN GEORGIA AND SOUTH CAROLINA. 2/1

Lincoln, being reinforced, had hopes of recovering Northern
Georgia. He accordingly detached General Ashe with fifteen
hundred men to take post opposite Augusta. At his coming, the
British evacuated the town. Ashe thereupon crossed the river,
and followed on nearly to Brier Creek, half way to Savannah.
He had apparently " never heard of military discipline and vigi-
lance." On the 3d of March, Prevost surprised his position. The
militia threw away their guns and fled at the first fire. The Con-
tinentals, sixty strong, fought bravely, but uselessly. Of the
whole detachment, only four hundred and fifty, by wading the
swamp and swimming the river, rejoined Lincoln in camp.

Leaving Moultrie with one thousand militia to guard the pas-
sage of the Savannah, Lincoln now crossed the river and marched
up toward Augusta, hoping to protect the legislature of Geor-
gia, then about to convene. Prevost also immediately crossed,
and, driving Moultrie before him, moved towards Charleston.
He was accompanied by Indians, and still more relentless tory
allies. It was a grand marauding time. Every house belonging
to a whig was robbed of money, jewelry, and even furniture.
Windows, mirrors, and crockery were wantonly broken. Ani-
mals which could not be driven off, were shot. Tombs were
desecrated. Gardens were trampled underfoot. The appear-
ance of this banditti before Charleston, May nth, aroused the
deepest anxiety. Had Prevost arrived two days earlier he might
have taken the city at once. Fortifications had been hastily
thrown up ; troops had arrived, and there was now a chance of
defence. The council, however, parleyed with the enemy, sure
at least of gaining time. At this juncture South Carolina felt
itself alone. Washington had been able to send South but few
men. Congress had done nothing except to commend the arm-
ing of the slaves — a proposition indignantly rejected by the Caro-
linians.

Rutledge, against the bitter opposition of such men as
Laurens, Gadsden, Ferguson, and Edwards, proposed that South
Carolina should remain neutral during the rest of the war. Pre-
vost declined the offer. '' Then we will fight it out," exclaimed
Moultrie, and forthwith waved the flag from the city gate as a
signal that debate was over. But Prevost had learned that Lin-
coln was coming by forced marches, and so, after gathenng what
plunder he could in the neighborhood, he retired to St. John's
Island. Lincoln, on his arrival, prepared an attack on the re-

2/2

FIFTH YEAR OF THE REVOLUTION.

[^77^:

doubts which protected the ferry across the Stono River to the
island. He was repulsed. Soon after, Prevost, unperceived,
escaped by interior navigation to Georgia, leaving Lieutenant-
Colonel Maitland with a garrison
at Beaufort. Summer heats, like
winter colds at the North, now
prevented further operations.

The outrages committed by
Prevost's men
were long re-
membered. A
large body took

possession of K ikt zM }■■. ^^-k ^"^PX the house and

plantation of
Mr. Robert
Gibbes on the
Stono River.
This gentle-
man had an
aged and in-
firm brother,
Mr. John Gib-
bes, who was
then on a visit
to him from
his beautiful
home near
Charleston,
where his
grounds were
laid out with
exquisite taste
and at a great
expense. A
Major Sheri-
dan, arriving

at Mr. Robert Gibbes's from the army on the Neck, was asked
by an officer in the presence of the brothers, " What news ?
Shall we take the city?" ''I fear not," replied Sheridan, '^ but
we have made glorious havoc of the property round about.
I witnessed yesterday the destruction of an elegant estabhsh-

"^iVyo!^'] DEPREDATIONS IN SOUTH CAROLINA. 275

ment belonging to an arch-rebel, who, luckily for himself, was
absent. You would have been delighted to see how quickly
the pine-apples were shared among our men, and how rapidly
his trees and ornamental shrubs were leveled with the dust."
Mr. John Gibbes, who recognized his own place in this de-
scription, could not restrain his indignation, and, fearless of
consequences, exclaimed, '' I hope that the Almighty will cause
the arm of the scoundrel who struck the first blow to wither to
the shoulder." Sheridan uttered a threatening retort, but his
commanding officer, who divined the truth, advised him for his
own credit to be silent. Mr. Gibbes so seriously felt the outrage
and the loss that he retired to his bed and never rose again. Not
long afterward the whole family was ordered to leave, fire having
been opened upon the house and neighboring encampment from
some Charleston galleys, which had quietly ascended the river.
It was midnight, dark and rainy. Mr. Gibbes, who was ill,,
started out with his large household for an adjoining plantation.
When out of reach of the pelting shot, they halted for a moment
to see if all were present. To their dismay, they found that one
little boy — a distant relative — had been left behind. The servants
were entreated to return for him, but utterly refused. Miss
Mary Anna Gibbes, a young girl of thirteen, resolutely under-
took the mission, ran the long mile through the rain and darkness,
obtained, by many tears and pleadings, an admission to the house^
secured the babe, and carried him in her arms through a storm
of grape and round shot, which frequently covered her person
with dirt as they struck the ground at her side, safe to the retreat
of her family. The boy thus saved became the gallant Lieuten-
ant-Colonel Fenwick, distinguished in the war of 1812.

Washington's army passed the winter in a line of positions
extending from the Highlands to the Delaware. Clinton's in-
structions permitted only a series of predatory excursions, and
little was attempted on either side. Signals were devised to give
warning when the British parties left New York. On Battle Hill,
sentinels were placed, with orders by day to fire a big gun
familiarly called the " Old Sow," and at night to kindle a beacon.
These signals, repeated from hill to hill, quickly spread the alarm
through the country.

One day in March, General Putnam, while shaving at his
headquarters at Horse Neck, saw in his mirror the reflection of a
body of British coming up the road. Changing his razor for a
18

274 FIFTH YEAR OF THE REVOLUTION. ['^^f779."'^*

swofd, he darted out, mounted his horse, and gathered his men
upon a hill near by to resist their advance. The overwhelming
forces of the enemy at length compelled him to flee. Ordering his
troops to scatter into a neighboring swamp, he spurred his own
horse over a precipice and descended a zigzag path, where the
British dragoons did not dare to follow. Tryon, who was in
command of the English, plundered the neighboring people,
destroyed the salt works, and then retreated to King's Bridge.
But the irrepressible Putnam was after him, and on the way
recovered most of the booty.

During Prevost's plundering raid in South Carolina, General
Matthews was sent from New York to Virginia on a similar expe-
dition. He cast anchor in Hampton Roads May 9th. Predatory
parties ascended the James and the Elizabeth Rivers. Ports-
mouth and Norfolk — the latter just recovering from its destruc-
tion by Dunmore — was seized, and the inhabitants brutally
maltreated. One hundred and thirty vessels were captured.
Plantations were pillaged and the buildings fired. Every house
save one in Suffolk county was burned. Matthews returned to
New York with a rich booty, consisting in part of three thousand
hogsheads of tobacco. He had inflicted a damage of two million
dollars, without advancing the royal cause in any sense.

On the return of this expedition, Clinton ascended the Hud-
son and captured the works at Stony Point and Verplanck's
Point, which guarded King's Ferry. The American army had
now no means of communication between New England and the
Middle States below the Highlands.

Connecticut was next to feel the heavy hand of the invader.
On the evening of the 4th of July, the inhabitants of New Haven
were startled by the appearance of a fleet in the bay. Early the
next morning, troops were rapidly landed. Tryon was again out
with his royalists and Hessians on their favorite work. They
were soon busy at plunder. The militia, however, rallied and
drove off the marauding bands both here and at East Haven. Dr«
Daggett, ex-president of Yale College, was barbarously mal-
treated while resisting the advance of the enemy. When threat-
eningly asked if he *' would take up arms again," he bravely
answered, " I rather think I shall if I get an opportunity." Fair-
field, Norwalk, and Greenwich were next visited, pillaged, and
burned. Tryon boasted of his clemency in sparing a single
house. Unarmed men were brutally murdered. Females were

July 16,-1
1779. J

CAPTURE OF STONY POINT.

275

insulted. For days afterward, women, half frantic with grief and
fear, were found wandering through the neighboring woods.
The expedition was preparing to make a descent on New London
when it was recalled by General Wayne's famous exploit at
Stony Point.

Washington looked with an envious eye on the British pos-
session of Stony Point, and had resolved upon its recapture.
Upon making known his wishes to Wayne, that general re-
plied, *' I will storm h — 1 if you will only lay the plan." The

GIVING THE COUNTERSIGN AT STONY POINT.

fort was on an eminence, washed on three sides by the river, the
fourth being protected by a marsh that was overflowed at flood-
tide. The only hope lay in a surprise. Twelve hundred men
were selected, and marched through swamps until within a mile
and a half of the enemy, where they were concealed. The coun-
tersign, which, curiously enough, was " The fort is ours," was
obtained of a negro who was in the habit of selling strawberries
at the fort. He guided the troops in the darkness to the causeway
leading over the flooded marsh around the foot of the hill. The
unsuspicious sentinel, having received the countersign, was
chatting with the negro, when he was suddenly seized and
gagged by two soldiers dressed as farmers. Wayne's men

2/6 FIFTH YEAR OF THE REVOLUTION. [^"7^79?'

passed over the causeway and reached the base of the hill undis-
covered, where they seized the second sentinel in the same man-
ner. Forming in two columns, with unloaded muskets and fixed
bayonets, just after midnight they commenced the ascent of the
steep and rugged slope. A forlorn hope of twenty men pre-
ceded each to remove the abattis. They had nearly reached the
picket before they were discovered. Fire was at once opened
upon them. Wayne was wounded, but commanded his aids to
carry him that he might die at the head of his column. The rush
of his men was irresistible. An instant more, and a deafening
shout told that the fort was won. Both columns reached the
centre of the works at nearly the same time. The British lost in
killed and prisoners six hundred and six men, and the Ameri-
cans but ninety-eight. Even English authorities agree that the
Americans did not take the life of a man except in fair fight. On
account of the vicinity of the main army under Clinton, Washing-
ton ordered the fort to be evacuated. The stores were all re-
moved and the works razed to the ground.

August 19th, Major Henry Lee rivaled this brilliant exploit
of Wayne's by the capture of Paulus Hook, now Jersey City, in
sight of New York, and almost in range of its guns. Reaching
the neighborhood of the fort before daylight, his detachment was
mistaken by the sentinel for a foraging party and allowed to pass.
The Americans were inside the works before the garrison was
fairly awake. Major Sutherland, the commander of the post,
threw himself with sixty Hessians into a block-house and opened
fire ; but Lee had no time for an assault, as alarm-guns began
already to be heard. Collecting one hundred and fifty -nine pris-
oners, he retired as rapidly as he had come. Lee received a gold
medal from Congress for this feat.

While everything under Washington's immediate eye was
thus favorable, an expedition sent out by Massachusetts against
the British at Fort Castine, on the Penobscot, proved a total and
disgraceful failure. It consisted of nineteen vessels, carrying
over three hundred guns, and twenty-four transports, bearing
one thousand men. It reached its destination July 25th. Delays
followed. Finally a British fleet dispersed the naval forces, when
the land troops were glad to make their way home through the
wilderness as best they could.

The continued Indian and tory atrocities in the Wyoming and
Mohawk valleys threatened to depopulate these fertile regions.

^"Cf)!.^] THE BATTLE OF CHEMUNG. 2//

It was now felt that such a punishment must be inflicted upon
the Six Nations as would deter them from further incursions.
General Sullivan accordingly organized for this purpose a force
of about three thousand men. Late in August he moved north-
ward from Wyoming, the artillery and stores being drawn up the
Susquehanna in one hundred and fifty boats. At Tioga he was
joined by General Clinton with one thousand New York troops.
The latter had marched from Albany, up the Mohawk to Canajo-
harie, and thence ascending Canajoharie Creek, had reached Ot-
sego Lake. Finding the water of the outlet too low to float his
bateaux, he built a dam across the stream, by which the lake was
raised several feet. When the dam was cut, the boats glided
easily down to Tioga upon the rushing water. The Indians fled
in dismay at the sight of a flood in the midst of the summer
drought, believing it a signal proof of the displeasure of the Great
Spirit.

On the 26th, the combined forces ascended the Chemung,
an Indian word for Big Horn. Sullivan carefully provided
against the danger of a surprise. Large flanking parties were
thrown on each side of the line of march, and strong guards were
in front and rear. Reaching a place called Hog's Back, they found
the Indians under Brandt, Corn-Planter, and Red Jacket, and the
tories under Sir John Johnson and the Butlers, awaiting their ap-
proach. They were about eight hundred in all, and occupied a
strong position. Their left rested on the hill and their right on a
ridge running parallel with the river. They had regular entrench-
ments thrown up nearly half a mile in length, and were also
protected by the pines and shrub-oaks covering the ground.
The works were artfully concealed by green boughs planted in
front. Sullivan at once ordered General Hand and the rifle
corps to attack in front, while Generals Poor and Clinton, with
their brigades, cleared the hill on the Indian left. This was done
in fine style. The savages, leaping from tree to tree and rock
to rock, though greatly alarmed by the fire of the artillery, dis-
puted every inch ; while Brandt, animating his followers, ranged
the field like a very demon. Night was coming on, and the
assaulting columns seemed to falter for a moment. Then, as the
legend says, there hovered above them, amid the smoke of the
battle, the vision of a mother clasping her babe in her bosom and
shielding it from an uplifted tomahawk. The troops instantly,
as if by an inspiration, dashed forward. Poor and Clinton swept

2/8 FIFTH YEAR OF THE REVOLUTION. l'^jfg\

the hill at the point of the bayonet. Brandt, despairing, raised
the shrill cry, " Oonah ! Oonah ! " and the whole body fled in con-
fusion. The Americans, in spite of the desperation of the Iro-
quois, lost only five or six men and fifty wounded.

The Indians, satisfied that they could not resist this powerful
force, gave up in despair. Sullivan, marching up the river about
seven miles, came to an Indian village called Conewawah — an
Iroquois term meaning a-head-on-a-pole — afterward the site of a
settlement known as Newtown, and now Elmira. This he de-
stroyed, and thence proceeded to Queen Catharine's Town, now
Havana, near the head of Seneca Lake.

The Senecas and the Cayugas had regularly-laid-out villages,
and lived in framed houses, many of them painted and hav-
ing chimneys. Their fields were large and fruitful, especially in
the Genesee Valley, and were covered with orchards of apple,
pear and peach trees. " At Wyoming, no mercy was shown but
the hatchet; here, none but the firebrand." The army marched
resistlessly to and fro through the whole country from the Che-
mung to the Genesee, destroying their waving fields of maize,
ruining their orchards and burning their villages. The Christian
emulated the savage in the barbarity of war. Kanadaseagea, now
Geneva, the capital of the Senecas ; Schoyere, near Cayuga Lake ;
Kanandaigua, a town at the head of the beautiful lake by the
same name ; and Honeoye, were all destroyed without resistance.

When the army entered the Valley of the Genesee, the In-
dians, having hidden their women and children in the forest, were
lying in wait on the flats toward the head of Connissius Lake ; but
the vanguard of the invading force put them to flight. Approach-
ing Little Beard's town. Lieutenant Boyd was sent forward with
a party to reconnoitre. While on his return he fell into an am-
bush prepared by Brandt and his warriors. Nearly all Boyd's
men were killed ; he was taken and put to death with cruel tor-
tures. Thence Sullivan spread his troops wide over the smiling
valley, laying waste magnificent fields of grain, destroying forty
towns — among them Genesee, the capital of the Six Nations — and
leaving only a blackened waste of all that beautiful region. It was
expected that he would push westward and destroy the English
fort at Niagara, which was the very focus of Indian and British
intrigue ; but he had moved so slowly that he was compelled to
return without accomplishing this greatly desired result. Just
before reaching the Chemung again, forage gave out, and Sulli-

^fi^;] ATTACK UPON SAVANNAH. 279

van ordered several hundred horses to be killed. This equine
Golgotha has since retained the name of Horse-Heads.

The Six Nations were subdued for the moment; but their
bitter hatred was aroused, and they swore vengeance against
Washington, whom they styled the Town-destroyer. Yet, singu-
larly, their veneration for him was never lessened. According to
their belief, no white man except Washington ever reached
heaven. Their legends represent him as occupying a fort-like
mansion at the gate of the happy hunting-grounds. He walks in
full uniform to and fro, in '* meditation, fancy free," and the faithful
Indians see him, but always pass in respectful silence.

On the first of September, the French fleet of twenty ships-
of-the-line, under d'Estaing, appeared off the coast of Georgia.
A combined attack upon Savannah was now arranged with Lin-
coln. The militia of South Carolina turned out with alacrity,
and Washington despatched several North Carolina regiments
for this service. The combined forces, however, were not able to
commence operations till the 23d, although the French had already
landed and summoned Prevost to surrender. The British had
thoroughly improved the delay, called in their forces, thrown up
entrenchments, and were well prepared for defence. Two weeks
of bombardment from the trenches and the shipping followed,
without any marked result. D'Estaing became impatient. The
autumnal gales were approaching ; his fleet lay off the open
coast, and delays were full of peril. On October 8th it was de-
cided that the next day should witness an assault. It was gal-
lantly executed, but was a failure almost from the start. A col-
umn under Count Dillon was to have fallen on the English rear ;
but, becoming entangled in the swamp, it was beaten back by the
enemy's guns without attempting an attack. The French and
American columns reached the works in front under a heavy fire,
the former planting a banner on the parapet. Lieutenants Bush
and Hume, of the second South Carolina regiment, leaped to the
top with the colors given to them at Fort Moultrie. Both officers
were killed. Sergeant Jasper, springing to their help, fell mor-
tally wounded. In his dying moments, he managed to creep
away with the banner he had sworn to protect. Laurens him-
self, struggling in the thickest of the fight, in despair at the
retreat of his men, threw away his sword, and, stretching out his
hands, it is said, " prayed for death." Pulaski, carrying a banner
placed in his hands by the Moravian nuns, was struck down by a

:28o FIFTH YEAR OF THE REVOLUTION. {^ffjg:

cannon-ball, at the head of his legion. D'Estaing was twice
wounded. A dashing charge of grenadiers and marines from the
city now drove the assailants back to their lines. The Americans
had lost in this fruitless enterprise over four hundred, and the
French about six hundred men, while the British had suffered but
slightly. D'Estaing immediately sailed away. Lincoln retired
to Charleston with what he could save of his army, and the
militia scattered to their homes or took to the swamps.

While the French-American army was thus unsuccessfully
engaged in the siege of Savannah, Colonel White of Georgia
achieved a feat which borders on the marvelous. Learning
that Captain French and a party of British regulars, with five
vessels, four of which were armed, one carrying fourteen guns,
were on the Ogeechee, about twenty-five miles below the city,
he determined to attempt their capture. He had only a captain
and three soldiers. He lighted many fires in the woods, so
as to give the appearance of a camp. To complete the strata-
gem, he then, accompanied by his four companions, rode hither
and thither, after the manner of a general and his staff, inspecting
his lines and giving his orders. The English officer was next
summoned to capitulate. Thinking himself about to be attacked
by a great body of the enemy, French surrendered his detach-
ment, ships, and crews (October ist). White now pretended
that he must keep his men in the camp, in orcier to restrain their
fury, and prevent an indiscriminate slaughter of the prisoners.
He therefore delivered French and his party into the hands of
three guides, who would conduct them to a place of safety. They
had orders to move off as rapidly as possible. Meanwhile,
White, who had stayed behind to " bring up the main body,"
hastened into the country with his remaining soldier, quickly
collected a force of militia, and finally overtook his captives, who
were proceeding along comfortably under the care of his guides,
and were full of thankfulness for his merciful consideration.

No American successes caused more annoyance to the British
than those of the navy. In 1775, Washington sent out several
vessels to cruise along the New England coast as privateers. In
the same year Congress established a naval department. Thir-
teen ships were ordered to be fitted out and two battalions of
seamen enlisted. So anxious was the American government, that
Washington was forced to divide his scanty store of supplies with
the newly-fledged fleet. Swift-sailing vessels, manned by bold

Sept. 23,

pt. 23,-1
1779. J

CAPTURE OF THE SERAPIS.

281

seamen, soon infested every avenue of commerce. Within three
years they captured five hundred ships. They even cruised
among the British Isles, and, entering the harbors, seized and
burned ships lying at English wharves.

Paul Jones was among the most famous of these naval heroes.
In six weeks he is said to have taken sixteen prizes. While
cruising off England, Septem-
ber, 1779, in the forty-gun ship
Bon Homme Richard, named
in honor of the Poor Richard
of Franklin's Almanac, he came
across the Serapis, carrying forty-
four guns. Jones at once laid
his vessel alongside. Twice the
ships fell afoul each other. The

CAPTURE OF THE SERAPIS BY THE BON HOMME RICHARD.

first time, the Serapis hailed the Richard, asking if she had
" struck her colors." " I have not yet begun to fight," was Jones's
reply. The second time, with his own hands he aided in lashing
the vessels together. For two hours longer the crews fought
hand to hand, with musket, pike, and cutlass. The muzzles of the

282

FIFTH YEAR OF THE REVOLUTION.

rSept. 2
L 1779.

23.

guns touched, and the gunners, in working their pieces, often
thrust their ramrods into the port-holes of the other ship. The
Bon Homme was old and rotten, and soon became almost un-
manageable. Water poured into the hold. Only three of the
guns could be worked. The ship was really beaten, and only the
stout heart of Jones held out. Three times both vessels were on
fire. At last, sailors on the yards of the Bon Homme dropped
hand-grenades down the hatchway of the Serapis. An explo-
sion ensued ; twenty men were blown to pieces, and forty were
disabled. The Serapis thereupon struck her colors. The Bon
Homme was already sinking, and Jones transferred his men to
the captured frigate.

At this time, Jones was in command of five vessels — the Bon
Homme Richard, Pallas, Cerf, Vengeance, and Alliance. All ex-
cept the last were French ships. The Serapis, with her consort,
the Countess of Scarborough, was convoying a fleet of merchant-
men. During this desperate duel, the Pallas had fought the Scar-
borough, taking her just after the Serapis surrendered. But the
other vessels offered no help. So far from that, the Alliance, Cap-
tain Landis, repeatedly fired into the Richard, with the hope of
compelling Jones to capitulate, that Landis might have the credit
of retaking the Richard and capturing the Serapis.

THE DECATUR MONUMENT.

CHAPTER VII

SIXTH YEA(k OF THE fREVOLUTIOJ^—ijSo.

HE nardships of the camp at Val-
ley Forge are proverbial ; but
the winter of 1779-80, in the huts
at Morristown, witnessed, if pos-
sible, greater misery. The cold
set in early this year, and the
winter was the severest of the
eighteenth century. The want
of bread and meat and the lack
of clothing form the burden of
the same old, sad story of priva-
tion and suffering. Continental
money had been issued by Con-
gress to the amount of two hundred million dollars. It was now
so much depreciated that forty dollars in bills were worth only
one dollar in specie. A pair of boots cost six hundred dollars in
these paper promises. A soldier's pay for a month would hardly
buy him a dinner. To make the matter worse, the British had
flooded the country with counterfeits, which could not be told
from the genuine. Many persons entirely refused to take Con-
tinental money. The sufferings of the soldiers, and the difficulty
of procuring supplies, may be readily imagined.

Washington, though with great reluctance, was forced to
make requisitions upon the surrounding country. To the honor
of the loyal people of Jersey be it remembered that, in this hour
of gloom, they bore these exactions with patriotic submission.
More than that, many of the farmers voluntarily sent in provi-
sions, shoes, coats, and blankets ; while the women met together
to knit stockings and to sew for the needy troops. One Anna
Kitchel, wife of a Whippany farmer, was foremost in good deeds.

284 SIXTH YEAR OF THE REVOLUTION. [March 3l-Apnl 14,

^' Her potato bin, meal bag, and granary had always some comfort
for the patriot soldiers. When unable to billet them in her house,
a huge kettle, filled with meat and vegetables, constantly hung
over the fire, that no one might go away hungry."

Such patriotism, however, was not general throughout the
country. Discouraged by the length of the war, the apathy of
which we have already spoken became even deeper than before.
In this extremity, Washington declared that he had "almost
ceased to hope," and that friends and foes seemed to be combin-
ing to pull down the fabric raised at so much expense of time,
blood, and treasure. The best men no longer went to Congress,
and in that body onl}^ fifteen or twenty persons transacted the
most important business. Its councils were consequently scarcely
heeded, and its authority was openly disregarded. The national
power, divided among thirteen States, was fast sinking to its
lowest ebb — this, too, at a time when the final conquest of the
United States by Great Britain was scarcely expected, even by
the most sanguine friends of the crown.

On the day after Christmas, Clinton set sail from New York
for an attack upon Charleston. After a tempestuous voyage, he
reached North Edisto Sound, February loth. Governor Rut-
ledge and General Lincoln were indefatigable in their efforts to
fortify the city. Clinton advanced with great caution, and it was
not till the 31st of March that he sat down, with ten thousand
men, before the American works on Charleston Neck. The loth
of April, he completed his first parallel, and summoned the city
to surrender. Meanwhile, the English fleet had safely crossed the
bar, passed Fort Moultrie, and was anchored in the harbor.
Lincoln, however, influenced by the entreaties of the inhabitants,
decided to remain with his army, although the capture of the city
was a foregone conclusion. He therefore replied to Clinton that
both duty and inclination moved him to defend his post to the
last extremity. It was a useless attempt. Fort Moultrie surren-
dered without a shot. The English pushed their works vigor-
ously.

As yet, Lincoln had kept up his communication with the coun-
try across the Cooper River. But on the night of April 14th,
Tarleton fell upon General Huger, who was encamped, with fif-
teen hundred cavalry, at Monk's Corner, and put him to flight.
The patriots, after this discomfiture, retired north of the Santee.
Lieutenant-Colonel White, who took command, afterward re-

*^i%o;~\ SURRENDER OF CHARLESTON. 285

crossed that river, in order to attack a British foraging party.
Ere he could get back, Tarleton was upon him with his terrible
dragoons, and, at the ford of the Santee, repeated the catastrophe
of Monk's Comer.

Charleston was now entirely surrounded. All hope of aid or
retreat was cut off, and, May 12th, the city, with its garrison, was
surrendered. By counting soldiers, citizens, old and infirm,
tories and whigs alike, Clinton made out five thousand paroled
prisoners. A carnival of plunder ensued. Slaves were seized ;
even those who came voluntarily into the English lines being sent
to the West Indies. A major-general's share of the booty, we
are told, was five thousand guineas.

Expeditions were rapidly sent out to overrun the entire coun-
try ; one up the Savannah to Augusta, another up the Santee
toward Ninety-Six, and a third toward Camden. The advance
of the last under Tarleton, May 29th, at Waxhaw Creek, over-
took a regiment of Virginians under Colonel Buford, who was
retreating into North Carolina, after the fall of Charleston. The
Americans offered to surrender ; but Tarleton rejected the terms,
and, while the patriots were still hesitating, fell upon them with
the sword. No quarter was given. One hundred and thirteen
were killed, and one hundred and fifty so brutally maimed that
they could not be moved. " This bloody day only wanted," says
Lee, in his Memoirs, " the war-dance and the roasting-fire, to have
placed it first in the records of torture and death." Henceforth
" Tarleton's quarter " was proverbial.

The inhabitants now flocked in from all parts to meet the
royal army and resume their ancient allegiance. On every side
were heard cries of submission and loyalty. Clinton wrote
home that " South Carolina was English again." Thinking that
he could deal with the State as a royal province, by his famous
proclamation of June 3d, he ordered that all, even the paroled
prisoners, should be henceforth considered as liege subjects of
Great Britain. The entire male population was to be enrolled in
the militia ; the men over forty being liable to be called upon
only in case of invasion, while those under that age were to serve
six months each year.

A Carolinian taken in arms against the king, was in this way
made liable to be tried as a deserter and executed. Relying upon
the promises of the British commander, many had fondly hoped
to be allowed to remain at home in peace during the remainder

286 SIXTH YEAR OF THE REVOLUTION. [1780.

of the war. They were now told that they must fight, and the
only question was whether it should be for, or against, theif native
country. By this ill-timed rigor the Southern States, which
appeared reunited to the crown, were henceforth convulsed with
civil war. Brutal tories, having received commissions to raise
troops, roamed the country, insulting, plundering, and even mur-
dering those who refused to join their ranks. Patriots were out-
lawed, and their property was confiscated. Delicate women, who
had been accustomed to every comfort, were despoiled of raiment
and home, and were glad to find refuge in some hovel too mean
to excite the attention of the enemy. No one could be neutral.
He who was not in arms for the king, was liable to be assassinated
in his own home, even in the presence of his wife and little chil-
dren. A merchant could not collect a debt, except on taking an
oath of loyalty. One of Tarleton's quartermasters cut to pieces
Samuel Wyly, in his own house near Camden, merely because he
had been a volunteer at the siege of Charleston. One hundred
and sixty of the inhabitants of Camden were sent to prison, and
twenty were loaded with chains, on their refusal to take up arms
against their countrymen. The Continentals captured at Charles-
ton were sent to prison-ships, where, in thirteen months, one-third
of them died of disease. Several hundred young men were taken
to Jamaica, and forced to serve in a British regiment. Gadsden,
Rutledge, and other devoted patriots were sent to St. Augustine.

Reports of these and multitudes of similar outrages, happening
month after month for over two long years of British occupation,
stirred the most sluggish hearts. Patriots, exiled from home,
took up arms, blacksmiths forging their rude weapons, and
women, who gloried in the title of ** rebels," casting bullets for
them out of the pewter utensils they sacrificed from their pantry-
shelves. The war at the South henceforth assumed a character
unlike that which it possessed in the North at any point ; except,
perhaps, in the sections exposed to Indian forays, or the so-called
neutral ground along the Hudson, between the English and
American lines.

The Carolinas, wild and extensive, cut up by streams, full of
swamps and tangled woods, and having a mountainous border on
the west, were exactly fitted for a bush-warfare, and became the
scene of the most romantic adventures and hair-breadth escapes.
The inhabitants were nearly equally divided in sentiment, and
tories and whigs were bent on each other's destruction. Both

17S0.] PARTISAN WARFARE IN THE CAROLINAS. 287

sides organized partisan corps, which rendezvoused in swamps,
and sallied out, as occasion offered, to strike a sudden blow, and
then escaped with their plunder through by-paths known only to
themselves. The country was harried by the continual passage
of these predatory bands. The raneor of the royalists provoked
retaliation ; rude justice was dealt on occasions, and the bitterest
hatred was engendered. Daring leaders arose whose names
carried terror to their foes and gave strength to the cause they
upheld. On the British side were Tarleton with his merciless
dragoons, and Ferguson with his riflemen; on the American,
were Sumter, the *' Carolian Game-cock,** whom Lord Cornwallis
characterized as his '* greatest plague " ; Marion, the " Bayard
of the South"; and the ever-vigilant Pickens.

Dark and bloody deeds, lit up here and there with a gleam of
kindness and faith, characterize this page of our history. Though
generally lightly touched upon, they greatly influenced the issue
of the contest. Every heart has been aroused in reading Bryant's
Song of Marion's Men," those patriots " few, but true and tried,"
under a " leader frank and bold." The very breath of the forest
is caught in the stirring lines :

"Woe to the English soldiery that little dread us near !
On them shall light at midnight a strange and sudden fear ;
When, waking to their tents on fire, they grasp their arms in vain.
And they who stand to face us are beat to earth again ;
And they who fly in terror deem a mighty host behind.
And hear the tramp of thousands upon the hollow wind.

" Well knows the fair and friendly moon the band that Marion leads—
The glitter of their rifles, the scampering of their steeds.
'Tis life to guide the fiery barb across the moonlit plain ;
'Tis life to feel the night-wind that lifts his tossing mane.
A moment in the British camp — a moment, and away
Back to the pathless forest before the peep of day."

But there is another virtue beside courage — that of endurance.
Concerning Marion, it has been said that " his simplicity of con-
duct, preserved under all circumstances, was above praise ; the
cheerfulness with which he endured privations, surpassed en-
comium." At one time, a British officer was sent to negotiate
some business with him. When it was concluded, Marion po-
litely invited him to remain to dinner — an invitation which the

288

SIXTH YEAR OF THE REVOLUTION.

[1780.

officer, alieady charmed with Marion's dignified simplicity, gladly

accepted. The repast consisted entirely of roasted potatoes,

served upon pieces of bark, and was offered without apology, but

with the simple mention of the old

adage that " Hunger is the best . 1 K\ L.

sauce." The British officer was

amazed at such a meagre diet.

''Surely, general," he said, ''this

cannot be your ordinary fare."

" It is indeed," was the quiet

A RENDEZVOUS OF MARION AND HIS MEN.

reply ; " but on this occasion, having the honor of your company,
we are happy to have more than our usual allowance." The
officer was so affected by this unselfish patriotism, especially as
he afterward learned that Marion served without pay, that, imme-
diately upon his return, he resigned his commission, declaring
that it was folly to fight against men who showed such devotion
to their cause.

Colonel Horry of Carolina, who belonged to Marion's brigade,
was another dauntless patriot. He had an impediment in his
speech, which greatly embarrassed him. A ludicrous story is

1780.] PARTISAN WARFARE IN THE CAROLINAS. 289

told of him when, after having waited some time in ambuscade to
attack a certain British detachment, he had them at length in his
power. The critical moment had come, and he jumped to his
feet to give the order to fire. " Fi-fi-fi-fi-fi — " his tongue would
go no further. Irritated almost to madness, he shouted, " Shoot,
d — n you — shoot ! shoot ! You know very well what I would say
— shoot and be d — d to you ! " His own courage reacted upon
and inspired all who came in contact with him. At Quimby,
Colonel Baxter, himself a brave soldier, called out, " Colonel, I
am wounded ! " " Never mind, Baxter, stand to your post ! " was
the reply. " But I can't stand, colonel ; I am wounded a second
time ! " '' Then lie down, Baxter, but don't quit your post."
" Colonel," cried the same voice, ''they have shot me again, and
if I stay here any longer, they will shoot me to pieces." " Be it
so, Baxter, but stir not! " was the calm response. Baxter obeyed
the order, and was actually wounded a fourth time before the
engagement was over.

One beautiful spring morning, a splendidly-dressed officer,
accompanied by two aids and followed by a score of troopers as a
body-guard, dashed up the avenue to a fine old mansion, on the
piazza of which sat two ladies and a little child. Politely bowing,
the officer said, " Have I the pleasure of speaking to the mistress
of this house ? " Being answered in the affirmative, and learning
that her husband was absent, Tarleton, for it was he, next in-
quired, '' Is he a rebel ? " " No, sir," was the quick reply ; " he is
in the army of his country, and fighting against our invaders ;
therefore, not a rebel." " I fear, madame, that we differ," Tarle-
ton rejoined ; '' a friend to his country will be a friend to the king,
our master." '* Slaves only acknowledge a master in this coun-
try," retorted the lady, with spirit. An order was at once given
to quarter the troops on the plantation, and then, again bowing,
Tarleton said, " Madame, the service of his majesty requires the
temporary occupation of your property, and, if it will not be too
great an inconvenience, I shall take up my quarters in your
house." His tone was decisive. The lady simply responded,
'' My family consists of only myself, my sister, my child, and a
few negroes. We are your prisoners." A thousand soldiers — the
choicest of English cavalry — were soon encamped upon the
grounds. Lieutenant Slocumb, the owner of the plantation, was
at that moment, with twelve or fifteen recruits, reconnoitering
Cornwallis's encampment, little dreaming that his own beautiful
19

290 SIXTH YEAR OF THE REVOLUTION. [1780.

home was invaded. Mrs. Slocumb prepared an ample dinner for
her uninvited guests. They especially enjoyed her excellent
peach-brandy. Learning that it was the product of the plantation
orchard, an Irish captain said, " Colonel, when we conquer this
country, is it not to be divided amongst us ? " '' Undoubtedly
the officers will receive large possessions of the subjugated prov-
inces/' was the reply. '' Allow me to observe," interposed Mrs.
Slocumb, " that the only land any British officer will ever hold in
this country will measure but six feet by two." " Excuse me,
madame," replied Tarleton ; ^* for your sake I regret to say it,
but this beautiful plantation will probably be a ducal seat for
some of us." The lady's eyes flashed. " Do not trouble yourself
about me," she retorted ; *' my husband is able to make this
anything but a quiet seat for a duke or even a king." At this
moment, a rapid volley of firearms resounded from the wood near
at hand.

Mrs. Slocumb, who had been in an agony of anxiety lest the
lieutenant should return, and, unawares, fall into the enemy's
hands, had, immediately on their arrival, despatched an old negro
with a bag of corn to a mill on the road her husband must travel,
charging him to tell his master of the danger. But '* Big
George," with the indolence and curiosity incident to his race,
had not yet left the hedge-row, behind which he was admiring the
British red-coats, shining helmets, and dashing plumes. By
adroit remarks, Mrs. Slocumb had also contrived to impress
Tarleton with the idea that there was a large number of Amer-
ican troops in the vicinity. " You would not, of course, be sur-
prised at a call from Lee," she observed, " or from your old friend
Colonel Washington, who shook your hand rather rudely, it is
-said, when you last met," pointing, as she spoke, to a scar left by
Washington's sabre. At the sound of the firing, all rushed to the
door, and Tarleton, mounting his horse, put himself at the head of
his regiment. Just then the cause of the disturbance was made
clear. Lieutenant Slocumb, coming upon the scouts Tarleton had
sent out, had set upon them with his little band, and was chasing
them up the avenue to his own house, so intent on his purpose that
he saw nothing else. At this moment, Big George came to his
senses, and, rushing before his master, shouted, ** Hold on, massa !
de debbil here ! Look you." Slocumb was already surrounded,
but with wonderful coolness dashed through the thinnest quarter,
scaled the fences, and, leaping a canal amid a shower of balls,

1780.] HEROISM OF NANCY HART. 2gi

reached in safety the shelter of the wood he had just left. The
men started to pursue, but Tarleton, believing a large force to be
hidden there, sounded the trumpet for recall, and returned with
his officers to the peach-brandy and the coffee. Slocumb lived to
do good service thereafter.

Nancy Hart of Georgia was one of the most remarkable char-
acters of these stirring times. An Amazon in stature, her courage,
patriotism, wit and temper were in proportion to her altitude.
One evening she was at home in her log-house, with her children
sitting around the fire, over which a large pot of soap was boiling.
As Nancy vigorously stirred the soap, she dispensed to her family
the latest news of the war, seasoned with her own spirited sen-
timents. Suddenly one of the children espied a face between
the crevices of the huge log chimney, and silently conveyed the
intimation to his mother. As her violent whiggism was known
and hated, she readily divined that a tory spy was at hand. Rat-
tling away with renewed zeal, giving sarcastic pictures of the dis-
comfiture of the tories, as she professed to have just received
special intelligence, and meantime stirring her soap with increas-
ing fury, she waited till the proper moment arrived, when, quick as
lightning, she dashed a ladleful of the boiling liquid plump through
the crevice, into the very face of the eavesdropper. Blinded by
pain and sudden surprise, he screamed and roared vociferously,
while the indomitable Nancy amused herself at his expense, and,
with jibes and taunts, bound him fast as her prisoner.

When the partisan warfare had become so hot, and the tories
so strong, that whigs were forced to hide or swing, and Nancy's
husband had taken to the canebrake with the rest, she still
stood at her post, her spirits rising with the tempest. The
tories at length gave her a call, and, in true soldier manner,
ordered a repast. " Nancy soon had the necessary materials
for a good feast spread before them. The smoking venison, the
hasty hoe-cake, and the fresh honeycomb were sufficient to have
provoked the appetite of a gorged epicure. They simultaneously
stacked their arms and seated themselves, when, with a cat-like
spring, the dauntless Nancy seized one of the guns, cocked it, and,
with a blazing oath, declared she would blow out the brains of the
first mortal that offered to rise, or take a mouthful. They all knew
her character too well to imagine that she would say one thing
and do another. * Go,* said she to her son, * and tell the whigs
that I have taken six base tories.' They sat still, each expecting

292

SIXTH YEAR OF THE REVOLUTION.

LlTSO.

to be offered up, with doggedly mean countenance, bearing the
marks of disappointed revenge, shame, and unappeased hunger.
Whether the incongruity between Nancy's eyes — when in rage
they had a shght obliquity — caused each to imagine himself her
immediate object, or whether her commanding attitude and her
stern and ferocious fixture of countenance overawed them, or the
powerful idea of their non-soldierlike conduct or the certainty of
death unnerved them, it is not easy to determine. They Avere soon

NANCY HART AND THE BRITISH SOLDIERS.

relieved from her glare, but only to be dealt with according to
the rules of the times." Another account of this transaction states
that Nancy shot two of the tories, and then saying " shooting was
too good for them," ordered the others to be taken to a tree near
by and hanged. Nancy Hart rendered several signal services to
the patriots. When Augusta was in the hands of the British, and
great anxiety . was felt concerning their intentions, she assumed
male attire, and, feigning insanity, went boldly into the British
camp, where she obtained much valuable information to bring
back to the American commander at Wilkes. At another time,
on a similar mission, she walked to the Savannah River ; made a

'^lyl'o!'] ATTACK OF HANGING ROCK. 293

raft of logs tied together with grape vines, crossed, accomplished
her end, and returned with important intelligence. On several
occasions she made single prisoners. Once, having met a tory,
she engaged him in conversation, and, when off his guard, seized
his gun, and compelled him to march before her into the Amer-
ican camp. A county in Georgia now bears her family name, and
thus perpetuates her memory.

After the fall of Charleston there was no regular patriot army
in the field, but the partisan bands kept up the contest. July 12th,
while one Captain Huck, who was in command of a British
patrol at Cross Roads, was surrounded by women who were
vainly begging the ruffian to spare their homes, Sumter's troop
dashed suddenly into the street from both ends, slew the captain
and killed or captured the entire party. His numbers increasing,
July 30th, this bold leader ventured to attack the British sta-
tion at Rocky Mount ; but having no artillery to batter down the
log block-house, was compelled to give up the attempt. Seven
days after, he assaulted the post at Hanging Rock. His soldiers
had, at the beginning, only two rounds of ammunition, and they
would not have had even this but for the heroism of two women.
It had been stored in a house where a Mrs. Thomas resided with
her daughter and son-in-law. The enemy having attacked the
dwelling, the three barricaded the doors, and, the women loading
the guns, the man discharged them so rapidly, and with such
effect, that the British, supposing a force to be posted there,
withdrew. At Hanging Rock, as in many other engagements, the
patriots soon supplied themselves from the tories whom they put
to flight. At first Sumter carried all before him, but his men be-
coming disorganized by the liquor they found in camp, he drew
off with his prisoners and booty when victory seemed just within
his grasp.

A young boy not yet fourteen years of age took part in this
conflict. His name was Andrew Jackson, the same who afterward
became the hero of many battles, and the seventh President of
the United States.

In the spring, Washington sent from his little army a de-
tachment which he could ill spare for the help of the South.
The gallant De Kalb was ordered thither with two thousand
Maryland and Delaware Continentals. Washington desired that
Greene should be appointed to the Southern army, in place of
Lincoln ; but Congress unanimously designated Gates for this ser-

294 SIXTH YEAR OF THE REVOLUTION. [July 25-Aug. 16.

vice, making him, moreover, as once before, independent of the
commander-in-chief, and responsible only to that body.

As Gates was on the way to his new field, he met General
Charles Lee, who cautioned him lest his " Northern laurels should
turn to Southern willows." But, full of elation, he hastened south-
ward, vaporing much of ** Burgoyning Cornwallis," and expecting
to end the war with another Saratoga. July 25th, he joined the
army at Deep River. De Kalb had intended to march through
Salisbury and Charlotte, a fertile region abounding in supplies.
Instead, Gates took the direct route for Camden, through a wilder-
ness of sand-hills and pine barrens. His men, eating green com
and unripe fruit, became the prey of disease. Emerging from this
inhospitable country, he arrived at Clermont, August 13th. He
had only about three thousand men, who had never been paraded
together, and many of whom were raw militia. Full of conceit^
however, and supposing that the enemy would, of course, flee
before his terrible name, he advanced to meet Lord Cornwallis,
who was then in command of the British, Clinton having returned
to New York.

Singularly, both generals had appointed the same time to
make a night attack. While marching for this purpose, about
half-past one on the morning of the i6th, the advance-guards of
the two armies unexpectedly encountered each other in the
woods near Camden. After some sharp skirmishing, the main
bodies waited for day. At dawn, Cornwallis ordered a charge.
The Virginia militia under Stevens, not knowing how to use their
bayonets, which they had received only the day before, fled at the
first fire. Two-thirds of the army disappeared without returning
a shot. Amid the general rout, a regiment of North Carolinians
under Dixon refused to flee, and stood firm with the Maryland
and Delaware men under De Kalb. At last, that Polish veteran
fell, pierced with eleven wounds. His brave comrades for a time
fought desperately over his body, but were overwhelmed by
numbers. Gates, with no thought of those who were still bravely
contending on the field against such terrible odds, fled with the
militia, or, as he said, " retired." Late that night, with a solitary
companion, General Caswell of North Carolina, he reached Char-
lotte. The next morning, he kept on to Hillsborough, making,
says Bancroft, two hundred miles in three days and a half. The
'' grand army," as it had been pompously styled, was irrecover-
ably scattered.

^"^' i'tso?''^' ^'] BATTLE OF KING'S MOUNTAIN. 295

Previous to the battle, Sumter, having again emerged from his
retreat in the swamp, had gone below Camden with a strong
detachment from Gates's army to capture a convoy of stores
designed for the British. In the midst of his success, learning of
the disaster at Camden, and seeing his own perilous position in
the presence of a victorious enemy, he retreated up the river.
But while he was taking a noon-day halt at Fishing Creek, his
men bathing and cooking, and he lying asleep in the shade of a
wagon, Tarleton burst into the camp, recovered the plunder and
prisoners, and scattered or captured his entire force. Two days
after, Sumter rode into Charlotte without hat or saddle.

But other partisans were more successful. On the very day
of Sumter's defeat at Fishing Creek, Colonel Williams, with the
patriots of Ninety-Six, stormed the British post at MuSgrove's
Mill, garrisoned by five hundred troops ; and the day Sumter
rode into Charlotte, Marion, near Nelson's Ferry on the Santee^
sprang out of his covert upon a convoy of prisoners from Camden
fight, captured a part of the guard, and rescued one hundred and
fifty Continental soldiers from a fate worse than death.

Early in September, Cornwallis marched into North Carolina
via Charlotte and Salisbury, while Ferguson was ordered to move
along the base of the mountains, on his way recruiting the loyal-
ists from the uplands of South Carolina. Presently the attention
of the latter was drawn toward Augusta. Clark, with one hun-
dred riflemen, had there captured the rich presents designed to
rouse the Cherokees to take part in this struggle. Reinforce-
ments from Ninety-Six, however, reaching the British, Clark
beat a hasty retreat, some of his men being overtaken. By the
orders of Brown, the commander at Augusta, thirteen of these
were hung, and as many given up to the Indians to be toma-
hawked or tortured.

Ferguson, hoping to cut off Clark's party, now pressed closer
to the mountains, where he met with an unexpected obstacle.
The patriots, fleeing before his ruthless advance, had roused the
free backwoodsmen over the mountains with the story of their
wrongs. These had gathered, each man with his trusty rifle, a
bag of bullets, and a store of provisions and powder — the latter
made from nitre found in the caves, and charcoal burned by their
wives on their own fireplaces. Under Colonels Shelby and
Sevier — afterward first governors, respectively, of Kentucky and
Tennessee — Williams, Cleaveland, McDowell, and Camobell, they

296 SIXTH YEAR OF THE REVOLUTION. [OfgJ;

suddenly emerged from the wilderness, bent on Ferguson's de-
struction. He took the alarm, and hurried eastward toward
Cornwallis. The trooper-chiefs, selecting nine hundred men with
the best horses and rifles, pushed ahead, dismounting only once in
thirty-six hours.

On the afternoon of October 7th, the enemy was brought at
bay on King's Mountain. There were over eleven hundred, but
the backwoodsmen did not wait to count the odds. Forming into
four columns, they clambered up the steep, craggy cliffs from all
sides at once. Driven back here and there by the bayonets of the
regulars, they returned directly, and all the while poured in a
murderous fire. The contest lasted an hour, when Ferguson fell,
and his men, despairing, surrendered. Four hundred and fifty-six
of the British were either killed or severely wounded, and six
hundred and forty-eight were taken prisoners. The American
loss was only eighty-eight in all. Ten of the tories, notorious
assassins and house-burners, were hung by the enraged moun-
taineers. There were eleven selected, but one of them broke
loose as they were being led to execution, and, " though he had
to make his way through a thousand of the best marksmen and
horsemen in the world, such was the unusual admiration or feel-
ing on the occasion, not one would lift a hand to stop him."
Campbell, on learning of this summary vengeance, immediately
put a stop to further executions.

The hardy sons of the forest, having accomplished their pur-
pose, quietly returned to their log-cabins and their uneventful
lives. King's Mountain proved another Lexington or Bunker
Hill. Tarleton, who was coming to Ferguson's aid, heard of the
disaster and hastened back to Cornwallis. That general, with no
longer any thought of conquering North Carolina, but only of
getting back in safety, immediately set out on his return. Militia
on every hand beset his rear and flank. Frequently single rifle-
men would ride up within shot of the British column, take
careful aim with their unerring pieces, fire, and then, wheeling,
disappear in the woods. Troops were cut off*, and food became
scarce. For days before the army reached Winnsborough, in
South Carolina, two and a half ears of com for each soldier was
the only ration.

Marion now came out of his hiding-places along the Pedee and
the Black Rivers, and, defeating a party of tories who were in
pursuit of him, threatened the communications with Charleston?..

^?78or"] ACTIVITY OF MARION AND SUMTER. 297

Cornwallis at once sent Tarleton after him. Delighting in this
commission, he set off. His line could everywhere be traced by the
ruin he left behind him. Groups of houseless women and children,
whose homes — some of them spacious and elegant — had been
burned by his ruthless orders, clustered about fires in the open air,
and in the chill November rain. One lady, the widow of a brave
general officer, who was believed to have knowledge of Marion's
whereabouts, was actually beaten for not revealing it, and left
without a change of raiment by the ashes of her dwelling. At the
approach of the enemy, Marion took to his covert in the swamp.
Just then, Tarleton was recalled. Sumter had appeared in the
Northwest, stopping supplies and defeating a detachment under
Major Wemyss, who had ventured to attack his camp at Fishdam,
and now menaced Ninety-Six. Tarleton quickly turned to meet
the ** Game-cock." Sumter, being apprised of this, chose a strong
post at Blackstock Hill, where he repulsed the British attack
with heavy loss. The patriot chief was, however, severely
wounded, and his men retired, carrying their commander with
them. Marion proved a source of constant terror to the British
army at the South. It is said, indeed, that Cornwallis himself
had an especial dread of Marion, and, when outside of Charleston,
never sat down in a strange house, but always remained on the
piazza or under a tree, that he might constantly watch for this
always-to-be-expected foe.

No military movements of great importance took place at the
North during this year. A few marauding excursions only are
worthy of mention. In the winter. New York Bay and the adja-
cent rivers were frozen over, so that the city was open to land
attack, artillery being able to move anywhere upon the ice. It
was expected that Washington would take advantage of this op-
portunity, but the condition of his army forbade. On the night
of January 14th, General Stirling attempted to surprise a British
post on Staten Island, but failed, and came back with many of his
men severely frost-bitten. Eleven days after, Knyphausen, in
command at New York during the absence of Clinton in South
Carolina, retorted by two expeditions ; one, which crossed over
to Newark, captured a company of soldiers stationed there, and
burned the Academy ; and another, which surprised the picket at
Elizabethtown, plundered the inhabitants, and set fire to the church
and town-hall.

The pastor of the church which was destroyed was Rev. James

298

SIXTH YEAR OF THE REVOLUTION.

TFeb. 2,
L 1780.

Caldwell, known among the whigs as a " rousing gospel preacher,"
and among the tories as a '' rebel firebrand." Laying his pistols
on the desk beside the Bible, he was wont at times strangely to
mingle patriotism with piety. He was a great favorite in the
Jerseys. His bell rang the alarm when the enemy approached,
and under his roof the militia gathered and the wounded were
nursed.

February 2d, a detachment set out by night from New York
in sleighs, to surprise Young's house, near White Plains. This

was a stone building gar-
risoned by the patriots,
and commanded a road
by which provisions
would naturally pass
along the valley of the
Neperan to New York.
The snow was two feet
deep, and the British
were finally compelled
to leave their sleighs
and trudge along on foot.
The alarm was given, and
the Westchester farmers
quickly gathered ; but
after a sharp skirmish,
the post was stormed
and the house fired. The
expedition got back to
King's Bridge after an absence of only twenty-four hours. The
prisoners were hurried into the jail and the sugar-house, to en-
dure the horrors of British captivity. Few ever returned home.
These expeditions illustrate the way in which the neighborhood
of New York, especially the Neutral Ground, was constantly har-
ried through the war.

In the summer the American army was threatened with star-
vation. Finally, two Connecticut regiments declared their deter-
mination to either go home or get food at the point of the bayonet.
It was with the greatest difficulty that Washington could induce
them to return to duty. In this emergency, Robert Morris sent
to camp three million rations. Soldiers' relief associations were
also organized by the women of Philadelphia. Those who had

THE OLD SUGAR-HOUSE, LIBERTY STREET.

"""i^so?'] KNYPHAUSEN IN THE JERSEYS. 299

money gave it; the poor contributed their work. Twenty-two
hundred shirts, we are told, were thus manufactured, on each of
which was inscribed the name of the fair maker.

Knyphausen, learning of the disaffection of the army, with
about five thousand men, made a bold push into the Jerseys.
The advance landed at Elizabethtown before daylight, June 6th.
As the troops came to a fork in the road, a solitary sentinel fired
into the dimly-discerned mass. That chance-shot mortally
wounded a British general. Soon the booming of heavy guns
and the flashing of signal-fires spread the alarm over the coun-
try. The yeomanry, hastily forming, fired upon the enemy from
behind fences and trees. The British, reaching Connecticut
Farms, sacked and burned the town. The wife of Reverend
James Caldwell, the '' rebel fire-brand," was deliberately shot
through the window of the parsonage, while, it is said, kneeling
by her bedside, holding the hand of her little child and engaged
in prayer. After the army had passed, the neighbors with diffi-
culty rescued the body from the ruins of the burning building.
The tragical fate of this estimable woman raised a desire for ven-
geance similar to that produced by the death of Miss McCrea,
three years before.

Washington had now arrived and taken position across the
Rahway, and the troops, which the British expected to find
thoroughly demoralized, were standing in line, ready to resist the
passage of the river. Knyphausen recoiled from their firm
aspect. Several days of uncertainty ensued. Clinton having
returned from the South, and threatening a movement up the
Hudson River, Washington retired to Rockaway Bridge. It
was, however, only a feint on the part of the British, and Kny-
phausen at once advanced upon Springfield. Greene, who was in
command, gallantly defended the bridges across the Rahway.
On that day, says Irving, " no one showed more ardor in the fight
than Caldwell, the chaplain. The image of his murdered wife
was before his eyes. Finding the men in want of wadding, he
galloped to the Presbyterian church, and brought thence a quan-
tity of Watts's psalm and hymn books, which he distributed for
the purpose among the soldiers. ' Now, boys,' cried he, * put
Watts into them ! ' "

The advance of the enemy was finally checked. Knyphausen,
not daring to hazard the difficult passes beyond, again aban-
doned his attempt. Ere his troops left Springfield, they burned

300 SIXTH YEAR OF THE REVOLUTION. [1780.

nearly the entire village. During the retreat, they were inces-
santly harassed by the militia, while Light-Horse Harry hung
on their rear. It was the last time the British set foot in New
Jersey.

We now turn to a dark page in the history of the War for
Independence. Benedict Arnold, whose bravery at Quebec,
Ridgefield, and Saratoga had excited such universal admiration,
was stationed at Philadelphia while his wound received at the
last-named battle was healing. Though considered at heart a
true friend of the country, he was known to have been greatly
dissatisfied because, in the early part of the war, his name was
omitted from the list of the first five major-generals appointed by
Congress. After his gallant action at Ridgefield, he was commis-
sioned major-general, but was placed below the previous five.
Saratoga, however, brought him the rank he had claimed, and he
was supposed to be content. Having married a Miss Shippen, a
tory lady of great beauty and accomplishments, he launched into
a style of living far beyond his income. This he endeavored to
support by engaging in various commercial schemes, by pri-
vateering speculations, and even by sharing in the dishonest gains
of sutlers. Haughty and overbearing in his manner and sordid
in his disposition, he rendered himself exceedingly unpopular,
and on one occasion he was mobbed in the streets of Philadelphia.

The council of Philadelphia finally preferred charges of mis-
conduct against him which were fully substantiated, and in
January, 1780, he was sentenced to be reprimanded by the com-
mander-in-chief. Washington performed the disagreeable duty
with exceeding leniency, but Arnold made this instance of what
he called his country's ingratitude a pretext for treason. It is
now known that for nearly a year previously he had been in com-
munication with the enemy. The way to this is supposed to have
been paved by the fact that Miss Shippen, at her father's house,
had become well acquainted with Major Andre, General Clin-
ton's aide-de-camp, both having been prominent characters in
the famous mischianza pageant at Philadelphia. In the corres-
pondence, Arnold used the pseudonym of " Gustavus," and
Major Andre that of ** John Anderson."

Bent upon gratifying at once his revenge and his love of
money, Arnold determined to betray into the hands of the enemy
the fortress of West Point, then the most important position in
the country, and the main depot of supplies. He accordingly

^%io.'^'] THE TREASON OF BENEDICT ARNOLD. 30I

secured from Washington the command of this post, on the plea
that his wound would not permit his undertaking active service.
The plot being ripe, Arnold requested an interview with a " person
fully authorized " to arrange the details. Major Andre accord-
ingly ascended the Hudson, and went on board the British sloop-
of-war Vulture, then lying at anchor in the river. Just before
dawn on the morning of September 22d, he landed at the foot
of Clove Mountain, where Arnold was waiting in the bushes
to receive him. The two repaired to the house of one Smith,
within the American lines, where they remained until late in the
day.

The plan agreed upon was for Clinton to send a strong force
to attack the works at West Point, while Arnold was to scatter
the garrison, so that no effective defence would be possible.
While their conference progressed, fire had been opened on the
Vulture from a small battery on Teller's Point, and she had
dropped down the river. Andr6 was therefore compelled to
return to New York by land. Furnished with a pass from
Arnold and a citizen's dress, he accordingly set out under the
guidance of Smith. Everything passed off well. A little distance
north of Pine's Bridge, over the Croton, Smith returned, assuring
Andre that he would now meet only parties of British marauders,
" Cow Boys," as they were called.

Andr^, pressing forward, full of satisfaction over the result of
his hazardous undertaking, had nearly reached Tarrytown, when
he was suddenly stopped by a small scouting party of three men,
named Paulding, Van Wart, and Williams. Paulding demanded
which way he was going. Expecting to meet only British so near
the lines, Andr6 incautiously replied, " I hope, gentlemen, you
belong to our party." ''Which party?" was asked. "The
lower party," answered Andr^. Paulding giving an affirmative
response, Andr6 then said, " I am a British officer out on particu-
lar business. I hope you will not detain me a moment." The
secret was now out, and he was at once ordered to dismount. In
dismay, he showed Arnold's pass. At first this would have satis-
fied his captors ; now it was too late. Upon searching him, they
found in his stockings, among other papers in Arnold's handwrit-
ing, a plan of the fortifications at West Point. " This is a spy,"
exclaimed Paulding. Andr6 now offered any sum they might de-
mand to secure his release. The incorruptible patriots refused the
bribe, and, taking him to North Castle, left him in the hands of

302

SIXTH YEAR OF THE REVOLUTION.

rSept. 25,
L 1780.

Lieutenant-Colonel Jameson. Having done their duty, they
departed, without asking any reward, or even leaving their
names. With inconceivable stupidity, Jameson wrote to Arnold,
informing him of the arrest.

Arnold was at breakfast when he received the note. Calling
aside his wife, he told her of his peril. Terrified by his words.

CAPTURE OF MAJOR ANDRE.

she fainted. Kissing his boy, who lay asleep in the cradle, he
darted out of the house, mounted a horse, by an unfrequented
path reached the river, jumped into his boat, and was rowed to
the Vulture. Here he basely delivered up his oarsmen as prison-
ers of war. CUnton, on hearing of the fact, at once ordered them
to be released.

Washington arrived a few hours after Arnold's escape.
*' Whom can we trust now ? " was his exclamation when he
received the startling news. Andr^ was tried by court-martial,
and convicted as a spy. His sad fate awakened universal inter-
est, and every effort was made to secure his release. But the
inexorable laws of war admitted no pardon. As a last favor,
Andre besought that he might die as a soldier rather than as a
criminal. This, too, the custom of both sides forbade. His letter

Oct. 2,
1780.

] EXECUTION OF MAJOR ANDRE. 303

to Washington, in which he touchingly preferred this request, has
been thus beautifully paraphrased by Willis :

" It is not the fear of death

That damps my brow ;
It is not for another breath

I ask thee now ;
I can die with a lip unstirred.

And a quiet heart —
Let but this prayer be heard

Ere I depart.

**I can give up my mother's look—

My sister's kiss ;
I can think of love — ^yet brook

A death like this !
I can give up the young fame

I burned to win ;
All — but the spotless name

I glory in.

"Thine is the power to give.

Thine to deny,
Joy for the hour I live,

Calmness to die.
By all the brave should cherish.

By my dying breath,
I ask that I may perish

By a soldier's death."

The sentence was executed at Tappan October 2d. Major Tall-
madge, who accompanied him, says, " When he came in sight of
the gibbet, he appeared to be startled, and enquired with some
emotion whether he was not to be shot. Being informed that the
mode first appointed for his death could not consistently be
altered, he exclaimed, ' How hard is my fate ! ' but immediately
added, * it will soon be over.' I then shook hands with him under
the gallows and retired." Having been given an opportunity to
speak, he simply said, " I pray you to bear witness that I meet
my fate like a brave man."

Much sympathy was felt for this unfortunate young officer,
who was so vastly superior to the traitor who was the cause of his
ignoble death. Andre was brilliant and accomplished, an artist and
a scholar. He had written some spicy satirical poems on military
events. The closing verse of. one, entitled '* The Cow Chase,"
wherein Lee and Wayne are the ludicrous heroes, runs thus :

304 SIXTH YEAR OF THE REVOLUTION. [°r780?'

" And now I've closed my epic strain,
I tremble as I show it,
Lest this same warrio-drover Wayne
Should ever catch the poet."

It is a singular coincidence that the last canto of this poem was
published the very day of Andre's arrest, and that General
Wayne commanded the division of the army at Tappan, when the
ill-starred satirist proved his mock fears to be sad prophecies.

Arnold received, as the reward of his treachery, six thousand
three hundred and fifteen pounds and a major-general's commis-
sion in the British army. The fame of his gallant deeds was
forever hidden by the memory of his base deceit, and he was
henceforth despised alike by Americans and British.

A curious attempt was made by Washington to get possession
of Arnold. The agent employed was John Champe, sergeant-
major in Lee's cavalry. His first step was a pretended deser-
tion. Lee withheld pursuit as long as possible without exciting
suspicion, but the vigilant officer of the day discovered Champe's
absence almost immediately. Obliged to simulate an ardent
desire to overtake the culprit, Lee, though taxing his wits for
causes of delay, could not give Champe more than an hour's
start. The chase was hot, and twice the fleeing deserter was
nearly in the clutches of his pursuers ; but at last he succeeded in
reaching the river, and, swimming for his life, was taken on board
a British galley. He was referred to General Arnold, who was
forming an American Legion, mostly composed of renegades.
Arnold made him recruiting-sergeant, which ensured him frequent
access to his house. A plan was laid with two disguised patriots
like himself, to whom he had brought letters of introduction, to
seize and gag Arnold in his garden, where he walked every night
about twelve o'clock. They were then to convey him to the
river, as a drunken companion, and row him over to the Jersey
shore. All was in readiness. The night arrived, and Lee, who
had been kept informed of affairs, waited with three dragoons, in
the wood near Hoboken, to convey the traitor to camp. Hour
after hour passed, and no boat approached. Day broke, and the
disappointed party went back alone. A few days afterward, a
letter from one of Champe's associates explained the failure of the
plot. Only the day before the night fixed for its execution,
Arnold removed his quarters, and Champe, instead of crossing
the Hudson with his prize, as he had fondly hoped, was on board

Oct., n

I780.J

CHAMPE S ADVENTURE.

30s

one of the British transports, from whence he never departed
till Arnold landed his troops in Virginia. When, at last, he
effected his escape and rejoined his old regiment, his comrades
were not a little surprised at the joyous reception given him by
Lee. The truth soon became known, and the long-reprobated
deserter assumed his true place in the hearts of his fellow-soldiers
as a hero and a patriot. Lest, in the vicissitudes of war, he
might fall into the enemy's hands and die on a gibbet, Washing-
ton, with distinguished marks of esteem, gave him a discharge
from the service.

At the close of the campaign of 1778, Lafayette, having been
granted leave of absence at the request of Washington, returned
to France. He was there received with every mark of respect
and consideration. He was almost immediately called to the
palace, the queen being anxious to hear about her *' Dear Ameri-
cans." " It is fortunate," said Maurepas, the minister, ** that
Lafayette did not wish to strip Versailles of its furniture to send to
America." Having gained a promise of assistance for the United
States, he rejoined Washington, May 11, 1780. He brought the
commander-in-chief a commission as lieutenant-general of the
army of France and vice-admiral of its navy. July loth, a French
fleet, carrying Rochambeau and six thousand soldiers, arrived at
Newport. We shall hear of them the next year at Yorktown.

MONUMENT AT TARRYTOWN.

CHAPTER VIII.

THE LAST YEJ(R OF THE (REVOLUTIOJ^—1781.

HE value of the Continental cur-
rency had now sunk so low that
it was said that a *' wagon-load of
the scrip would hardly purchase
a wagon-load of provisions, while
one going to trade was forced
to carry his money in a market-
basket." Destitute of food and
clothing, and without pay for a
year, thirteen hundred of the
Pennsylvania troops, consisting
principally of Irish immigrants,
encamped at Morristown, broke
Into open revolt on the night of the New-Year, and left camp
with the avowed purpose of compelling Congress to redress their
wrongs. General Wayne confronted them with his loaded pistols,
but, with their bayonets at his breast, they declared, ** We love and
respect you, but if you fire you are a dead man. We are not
going to the enemy, as you would soon see if they should appear,
for we should fight under you as bravely as ever." Clinton sent
his agents among them offering heavy bounties for desertion.
The mutineers indignantly replied, '* We are not Arnolds ! " and
turned them over to Wayne, who, being a great favorite, was
allowed to follow the march. On being tendered a reward for
delivering up these spies, they replied, '* We ask no pay for
placing our country above its enemies ; we only demand justice
in view of our past service and our necessities."

Reed, then president of Pennsylvania, finally settled the diffi-
culty by discharging those who professed to have served their
time, the State making arrangements to pay and clothe the re-

1781".] REVOLT OF THE CONTINENTAL TROOPS. 307

mainder. It was afterward found that the men had sworn falsely
as to their terms of enlistment in order to secure their discharge.

The New Jersey troops, encouraged by the success of the
Pennsylvania line, followed the example. Washington imme-
diately marched some New England regiments from West Point,
which, being composed of " native Americans and freeholders,
or sons of freeholders," remained true. The revolt was quickly
subdued, and two of the mutineers were shot, their own com-
panions being forced to act as executioners.

In this emergency, an agent was sent to France in order to
secure a loan. Yet, as Bancroft well remarks, that country was
poorer in proportion to its population than the United States.
All that was lacking here was a powerful government to organize
the strength of the country. In February, Robert Morris was
appointed financial agent, and by freely using his private credit
he succeeded in restoring confidence in the promises of Congress
to pay its honest debts. At his suggestion, the Bank of North
America was established, and by careful management he was able
to redeem its bills with gold whenever presented.

March ist of this year was a notable day. Maryland, the last
of the thirteen States, then ratified the articles of confederation,
thus consummating the Federal Union.

The defeat of Gates at Camden was fatal to his ambition.
Soon after, General Greene was appointed his successor, but
subject to the orders of the commander-in-chief. Thus, for the
first time, was the true position of Washington recognized.
Light- Horse Harry with his legion, three hundred and fifty in
number, was ordered to the Carolinas. Even this reinforcement
could ill be spared. Greene, on his arrival, reorganized the army
and established his camp at Cheraw, on the Pedee. Morgan, of
whom we have not heard much since the brilliant day at Saratoga,
was stationed with a thousand men near Broad River.

An exploit of Lieutenant-Colonel Washington's now greatly
encouraged the men. Scouring the country with a troop of light-
horse, he came across a body of loyalists under the tory Colonel
Rudgley. They were strongly posted in a large log barn, fortified
by entrenchments and an abattis. Knowing the weak character
of his opponent, Washington fixed a pine log — shaped and painted
to look like a field-piece — on the front wheels of a wagon, dis-
mounted part of his troops to appear like infantry, displayed his
cavalry, leveled the deadly pine-cannon on the log castle, and

308 THE LAST YEAR OF THE REVOLUTION. [''fysiJ'

then sent in a flag demanding instant surrender. The affrighted
colonel begged for quarter, and surrendered his garrison of one
hundred and twelve men at discretion. Cornwallis, mentioning
the event in a letter to Tarleton, dryly added, '' Rudgley will not
be made a brigadier."

In order to cut off Morgan, whose activity threatened his
flank, Cornwallis ordered Tarleton to attack him in front, while he
marched northward between the Broad and the Catawba Rivers^
and severed his communications with Greene. Morgan awaited
Tarleton's coming at the Cowpens, so called because of an enclo-
sure at that place used by the neighboring farmers for herding
their cattle, which in that mild climate roamed wild through the
fields during the entire year. Before daylight on the morning
of January 17th, being informed by his spies that Tarleton was
near, he awakened his men, breakfasted, and then put them quietly
in post. The British coming on impetuously, the militia who
were in Morgan's front line yielded after a sharp resistance. The
Continentals, however, stood firm. Being at length outflanked
by the superior numbers of the enemy, they fell back to take a
new position. The English, thinking the day their own, rushed
forward, when, suddenly, the Americans faced about, poured in a
terrible volley at only thirty yards distance, and then charged
with the bayonet. The British were driven pell-mell. Lieuten-
ant-Colonel Washington, with his cavalry, kept up the pursuit for
twenty miles. In the eagerness of the chase, he got far in advance
of his regiment, when three officers wheeled upon him. Wash-
ington owed his life to a sergeant who wounded one, and a little
waiter-boy who shot a second. Tarleton, the third, is said to
have been wounded by Washington himself

This defeat was a source of great mortification to Tarleton.
He was occasionally reminded of it in a very disagreeable manner.
At one time, after having indulged in much braggart talk about
his own gallantry, he remarked to a whig lady : " I should like to
see your far-famed hero. Colonel Washington." *' Your wish,
Colonel, might have been fairly gratified," was the prompt reply,
'' had you ventured to look behind you after the battle at Cow-
pens." A still more pointed retort was given him by a Mrs. Jones,
to whom he observed, " I have been told that Colonel Washington
is so ignorant a fellow that he can hardly write his own name."
''Ah, Colonel," she replied, " but no one knows better than your-
self that he can make his mark."

•'f7"8i.^'] BATTLE OF COWPENS. 309

The American loss at Cowpens was only seventy-two, while
that of the English exceeded eight hundred, besides material of
war. Cornwallis, hearing of the disaster, put his troops in light
marching order, burned the baggage, himself setting the example,
and started in hot haste to punish the victors and recapture the
prisoners. Morgan, anticipating this, had destroyed what booty
he could not carry off, and was already in full march for the
Catawba. So keen, however, was Cornwallis's pursuit that the
Americans had but just crossed the river when the British van ap-
peared on the opposite bank. That night it rained heavily, and
the water rose so high that the impatient Cornwallis was kept
waiting till the third day.

Meanwhile Greene joined his faithful lieutenant, and took com-
mand. The main body of his army was ordered to meet him at
Guilford Court-House, to which point he now hurried Morgan's
men. At the Yadkin, just at eve, February 3d, the British advance
was again on his heels ; but during the night the rain made the
river unfordable. Heaven smiled on the patriots and they took
heart. Cornwallis lost two days in going up the river to find a
crossing. He was soon, however, again in full pursuit. Now
began a race on parallel roads for the fords of the Dan — seventy
miles away. Colonel Williams, with the flower of the light troops,
covered the march. Greene reached the river first, and on the
15 th of February Cornwallis arrived only to find that the Amer-
ican rear-guard had crossed in the darkness of the night before.
Every face in the patriot army was lighted with joy when their
escape was certain. Halting only for one meal per day, sleeping
but six hours in forty-eight, with only a blanket for four men,
shoeless and ragged, they had fairly beaten the enemy by out-
running him. Greene himself, in his all-comprehensive care of
the army, had hardly slept four hours in as many days.

One night during this famous retreat, Greene alighted at the
Salisbury inn, after a hard day's ride through mud and rain.
The army physician, who had charge of the sick and wounded
prisoners, met him at the door, and inquired after his well-being.
" Fatigued, hungry, cold, and penniless," was the heavy-hearted
reply. The patriotic landlady, Mrs. Elizabeth Steele, overheard
the words. Lighting a cheerful fire, she spread a warm supper
before him, and then, quietly producing two bags of specie, her
hoarded treasure, '* Take these," she said ; " you will want them,
and I can do without them." It is hard to decide which was

3IO

THE LAST YEAR OF THE REVOLUTION.

TFeb. 17-25,

1781.

the happier, the noble-hearted giver or the relieved receiver.
Cheered and comforted, Greene renewed his journey with a
lightened heart.

The troops lay panting on the opposite sides of the river for a
day. Cornwallis then fell back to Hillsborough. The waving of

MRS. STEFXE AND GENERAL GREENE.

a handkerchief by a patriot woman, under the cover of the oppo-
site bank, was the signal which announced his retreat. The
tables were then quickly turned. Light troops at once recrossed
the Dan, and Greene himself soon took the field. The British
general wished to force him to battle, but for seven days Greene
eluded him, each night changing his camp, though at no time
over ten miles distant. Lee and Pickens constantly scoured the
country, covering Greene's movements, obtaining accurate intel-
ligence, and repressing the royalists. While hunting Tarleton
through the woods beyond the Haw River, they fell in with a
body of three hundred tories, who mistook them for the British.
Lee rode down their line, congratulated them on their appear-
ance, grasped their colonel by the hand, and was about to explain

'^1781.^'] BATTLE OF GUILFORD COURT-HOUSE. 311

the true state of the case, and demand that they should go to
their homes or join the patriots, when firing suddenly broke out.
Lee was forced to charge, and ninety of the royalists were cut
down, some of them while crying, " We are your friends. God
save the king."

March 15th, Greene, being reinforced, determined to give
Cornwallis battle near Guilford Court-House. He had about
three thousand six hundred men, nearly twice as many as his
antagonist, but a large part were raw militia. The Americans
were drawn up in three lines, several hundred yards apart ; the
first being composed of North Carolina volunteers, the second of
Virginia riflemen, and the third of Continentals. The British at
once advanced to the charge. Half of the militia broke without
firing a shot. Lee and Washington only, on the flanks, stood
their ground long after the centre of their line was occupied by
the enemy. The second line, riflemen used to backwoods fight-
ing, held their position bravely till driven from it by the bayo-
net. The Continentals fought stubbornly. At last the right
seemed weakened, and Greene, not wishing to hazard anything,
brought up his reserve to cover the retreat. The English were
too exhausted to pursue. The American loss was four hundred
and nineteen, and the British five hundred and seventy men.
That night, with true generosity, the English cared for the
wounded, friend and foe alike. But they were scattered through
the woods, and the rain fell in torrents. Fifty sufferers died
before morning.

Now was exhibited a strange spectacle. The conqueror fled
from his own victory. Cornwallis had lost over one-quarter of
his men, and was forced to retreat with his weakened army. He
accordingly retired toward Wilmington, whence, unwiUing to fall
back into the Carolinas, he concluded to march into Virginia and
join the British troops already in that State. Greene decided not
to follow him, but, leaving Virginia to its fate, to reconquer
South Carolina.

Lord Rawdon, in command of the British in that State, was at
Camden, and thither Greene turned his course. Having en-
camped on Hobkirk's Hill, only a mile from the enemy, he was
attacked before he was fairly in position. He quickly made his
arrangements, but a regiment in the centre giving way unac-
countably, he was driven from his ground before Colonel Wash-
ington, who with the cavalry was to fall on the enemy's rear,

312 THE LAST YEAR OF THE REVOLUTION. ['^'"''/fe""®'

could reach the spot. Greene retired as usual, but not before
inflicting a greater loss than he received.

Meanwhile, the partisan leaders were busy. Marion and Lee
laid siege to the fort on Wright's Bluff. Having no cannon, in
one night they built a tower of logs, from the top of which the
riflemen picked off" the garrison, and so forced a surrender, April
26th. This capture cut the communications of Camden with
Charleston, and the former post was thereupon evacuated. They
then attacked Fort Motte, on the Congaree. The British had
here fortified and garrisoned the house of Mrs. Motte, an estima-
ble whig woman. In order to dislodge the enemy, she brought
to Lee a bow and a quiver of Indian arrows, with which he threw
fire upon the shingled roof. The occupants could not fight the
flames under the guns of the sharp-shooters, and were soon
roasted into a capitulation. A little story is attached to the
quiver of arrows which did such effective service. Mrs. Brew-
ton, who was a guest of Mrs. Motte's, had caught it up in the
moment of their forced departure, knowing it to be a valued
keepsake in the family. As she was passing through the gate,
Major McPherson, drawing out a shaft, applied it to his finger,
saying, "What have you here, Mrs. Brewton?" "For God's
sake, major, be careful," she replied ; " those arrows are poi-
soned." It so chanced that, when applied to the purpose after-
ward decided upon, the first one missed its aim and fell at the
feet of the major. He took it up, angrily exclaiming, " I thank
you, Mrs. Brewton." After the surrender, he immediately sought
her out, and said, " To you, madame, I owe this disgrace ; it
would have been more charitable to allow me to perish by poison,
than to thus compel me to surrender my post to the enemy."

Forts Orangeburg and Granby now yielded. Augusta was
taken by Lee and Pickens the 5th of June. Greene, in person,
endeavored to carry Ninety-Six by assault, but was repulsed,
and Rawdon, receiving reinforcements, came to its rescue.
Events then took the turn so common in Greene's experience.
He retired as far as the Ennoree, when, the British giving over
the pursuit, he followed them back, with Lee's Legion close on
their heels, captured forty-eight dragoons within a mile of their
camp, and, June i8th, offered Rawdon battle, which he declined.
Greene then fell back to the " benign hills of Santee," as Lee
lovingly calls them, to recruit his army.

Greene, after leaving Ninety-Six, wished to communicate

%^'^'] EXECUTION OF COLONEL HAYNE. 313

with Sumter, but the intervening country was full of tories, and
no one was willing to undertake the perilous mission. At this
moment a young German girl, Emily Geiger by name, volun-
teered for the service. Greene entrusted her with a letter, at the
same time informing her of its contents. Mounted on a swift
horse, she had made one day's journey and was near the close of
the next, when she was hailed by two tories, who arrested her on
suspicion. While confined in a room, awaiting the woman who
was sent to search her person, she tore up the letter and swal-
lowed it piece by piece. Nothing being discovered by the ma-
tron's careful investigation, she received many apologies for her
detention, and was allowed to proceed. Thanks to Greene's cau-
tion in acquainting her with the import of the written message,
she was able to give Sumter the desired information, and Rawdon
was soon flying before the Americans toward Orangeburg.

Disgusted with the ill-success of his plans, that officer, on the
pretence of poor health, soon returned to England. His last act
in Charleston did much to embitter the feelings of the inhabitants
of that city. At the time of its capture by the British, Colonel
Isaac Hayne was paroled. He was afterward ordered into the
British ranks, at a time when his wife and several of his children
lay at the point of death with small-pox. The choice was given
him to become a loyal subject or to be placed in close confine-
ment. Agonized by thoughts of his dying family, he signed a
pledge of allegiance to England, with the assurance that he should
never be required to fight against his countrymen. Being again
summoned by Lord Rawdon to join the British army, he con-
sidered the pledge annulled, and raised a partisan band. He
was captured, and, without being allowed a trial, was condemned
to die. The citizens of Charleston vainly implored pardon for
him. He was allowed forty-eight hours in which to take leave of
his children, at the end of which time he was hanged. This bar-
barous act left a stain on Rawdon's memory which time has only
deepened. Retaliation was urgently demanded ; but the other
British officers did not countenance his inhumanity, and milder
measures prevailed.

Colonel Stewart, left in command of the British, took post at
Eutaw Springs, where Greene attacked him September 8th.
Marion, Pickens, Sumter, Lee, Williams, Campbell, and Washing-
ton won new honors on this desperately-fought field. The British
were finally fairly beaten. In the moment of victory, Campbell

314

THE LAST YEAR OF THE REVOLUTION.

rSept.,
L|78l.

fell. Informed of the patriots' success, he exclaimed, like Wolfe
at Quebec, *' I die contented."

On their retreat, however, one party of the enemy took
refuge in a brick house, and another in a wood of barren oaks.
Cannon were brought against the former, but the gunners were
quickly picked off by riflemen ; Colonel Washington, rashly
charging the latter without waiting for the infantry, was wounded
and captured, and half his men fell in the useless struggle.
Stewart during the delay rallied his fugitives, and Greene reluc-

Washington. Pickens. Morgan.

Lee. SumtM'.

THE PARTISAN LEADERS OF THE SOUTH.

tantly dre.w off his men. One-quarter of the American army and
one-fifth of the British were killed or wounded. Both sides
claimed the victory. That night, however, the English retired to
Charleston.

During the retreat. Manning, a noted soldier of Lee's legion,
was in hot pursuit of the flying British, when he suddenly found
himself surrounded by the enemy and not an American within
forty rods. He did not hesitate, but, seizing an officer by the
collar, and wresting his sword from him by main force, kept his
body as a shield while, under a heavy fire, he rapidly backed off
from the perilous neighborhood. The frightened British officer,

ifeW] ARNOLD'S INVASION OF VIRGINIA. 315

when thus summarily captured, began immediately to enumerate
his titles: '' I am Sir Henry Barry, deputy adjutant-general, cap-
tain in Fifty-second regiment," etc., etc. " Enough," interrupted
his captor, " you are just the man I was looking for."

While Colonel Washington was lying helpless under his fallen
horse, a soldier was about to bayonet him, when Major Majora-
banks rushed forward and saved his life. The gallant officer was
himself afterward wounded, and died en route to Charleston. A
marble monument, erected as a tribute to a generous enemy by
the Ravenels, on whose plantation he was buried, now marks the
spot. The flag borne by Washington's troop at this battle is still
preserved, and was carried by the Washington Light Infantry
of Charleston at the Bunker Hill Centennial celebration, June
17, 1875.

Greene had now been in command only nine months, but he
had recovered all the South except Savannah, Charleston, and
Wilmington. He had not gained a decided victory ; yet his
defeats had all the effect of successes, and his very retreats
strengthened the confidence of his men and weakened that of the
enemy. In his own words, he was always able " to fight, get
beaten, and fight again."

Anxious to distinguish himself and burning with hatred, the
traitor Arnold early led an expedition into Virginia. January 2d,
he appeared in Chesapeake Bay. The State had no troops to im-
pede his advance, with generous self-forgetfulness having sent her
best soldiers to the help of her Southern sisters. At Guilford
Court-House, nearly twenty-five hundred of her men had helped
to stay the tide of British aggression. Arnold having burned
Richmond without opposition, Lafayette was sent with twelve
hundred men to check his progress. General Phillips, arriving
from New York with a heavy reinforcement, took Arnold's place,
and the work of devastation went on more vigorously than ever.
Lafayette, with his small force, could do little. His men being
fearful of the climate, he offered any who wished, a permit to go
home ; but not one would leave him. A soldier, unable to keep
up with the march, hired a cart lest he might seem to have de-
serted. At Baltimore, Lafayette borrowed money to supply his
men with shoes and hats, and to purchase linen, which the loyal
women of that city made up into summer garments for them.
Phillips died, and Cornwallis arriving from the Carolinas, Arnold
was sent back to New York.

3l6 THE LAST YEAR OF THE REVOLUTION. [^fg]';

In September, Arnold was detached against Connecticut, his
native State. New London was pillaged and burned, the traitor
himself, it is said, watching the fire from a church steeple. Fort
Griswold was carried by assault. Colonel Ledyard, the com-
mander, after a brave resistance, ordered his men to lay down
their arms ; but still the slaughter did not cease. " Who com-
mands here ? " called out Major Bromfield, a New Jersey tory, as
he entered the works. " I did," said Ledyard, handing him his
sword, "but you do now." With fiendish malignity, he seized
the weapon and plunged it into the bosom of the heroic colonel.
Seventy of the garrison were slain and thirty -five wounded. The
yeomanry of the country were fast rising, and Arnold retreated to
his boats to escape their vengeance.

With this barbarous scene ended his career in this country.
Execrated by his former friends and loathed by his new com-
panions, even children learned to lisp his name with a shudder.
It is said that while on his predatory excursions in Virginia, there
being at one time a chance of his capture, he asked an officer,
" How will the rebels treat me, do you think, should I fall into
their hands?" " Pardon my frankness," was the reply, " but they
will probably cut off the leg that was wounded in storming our
lines at Saratoga, and bury it with the honors of war ; having no
respect for the rest of your body, they will undoubtedly gibbet
it." He carried to England a letter of introduction from Sir
Henry Clinton to Lord Germain, but, although he was patronized
by George III., he received abundant proofs of contempt from
high-spirited noblemen. At one time. Lord Surrey rose to speak
in parliament when, his eye resting on Arnold, he drew himself
proudly up, and, pointing to the traitor, exclaimed, " I will not
speak while that man is in the house ! " It is also related that, on
being introduced to Earl Balcarras, the proud old Briton refused
his hand, saying, as he haughtily turned away, " I know General
Arnold, and I abominate traitors ! " Many other stories, true or
false, are current, but all agree in showing how the blighting curse
of his treason followed him to his death. " He saw," says Lester,
" the infant republic he had betrayed, emerge from the gloom of
her long struggle into wealth, power, and splendor ; and left it
advancing on to empire as he went darkling down to a traitor's
grave. He died in 1801, somewhere in the wilderness of London.
Where he was buried, nobody has told."

Cornwallis reached Petersburg May 20th. Never at rest.

'^Y78"'i!"^'] CORNWALLIS IN VIRGINIA. 317

though his army had marched at least fifteen hundred miles from
their starting-point in South Carolina, within four days after his
arrival he took the field against Lafayette. Despising the youth
and inexperience of his adversary, he wrote to England, *' The
boy cannot escape me." The marquis, however, retreated from
Richmond across the Rapidan, where he was reinforced by
Wayne with the Pennsylvania troops. Comwallis gave up the
chase at Hanover Court-House, and contented himself with send-
ing out a couple of detachments.

Tarleton, with his cavalry, attempted the capture of the Vir-
ginia Legislature at Charlottesville ; but the members received
news of his coming, and all except seven escaped. Governor
Jefferson had not been absent from his mansion at Monticello ten
minutes when the dragoons dismounted at the door. Simcoe,
who was second only to Tarleton as a dashing partisan leader,
was directed to seize the stores collected at the Point of Fork.
By judiciously spreading his men over the neighboring hills, he
deceived Baron Steuben, who was stationed there with about six
hundred new levies, into the belief that the whole British army
was at hand. The baron accordingly decamped hastily, and the
English, crossing the river, destroyed the stores.

Cornwallis now placed himself between Lafayette and the
magazines at Albemarle Old Court-House. But the Marquis,
during the night, opened what was known as the " Rogues' Road "
— a wilderness path, by which absconding debtors had been wont
to escape to the South — and, before morning, had taken a strong
position, where he could defend the place. Cornwallis then
turned toward Williamsburg. Here he received orders from
Clinton to send three thousand men to New York, as there were
great fears that Washington, by the aid of the French fleet and
troops at Newport, would attack that city. Setting out July 4th,
for Portsmouth, the royal army reached the Jamestown ford.
Ordering only the advance to cross, Cornwallis hid his main camp
back of the woods and morasses, and, by means of deserters, gave
the impression that merely the rear-guard remained on the left
bank. Wayne fell into the snare, traversed a narrow log cause-
way, and attacked the enemy. The whole British army sprang
up before him, and he was at once outflanked. " Mad Anthony,"
seeing his peril, sounded the charge, and dashed forward with
headlong courage. Lafayette came to his rescue. The enemy,
overawed by the apparent confidence of the Americans, feared a

3l8 THE LAST YEAR OF THE REVOLUTION. [^^^§•^*

stratagem, and dared not pursue. The Americans fell back to
Green Springs, and Cornwallis continued on to Portsmouth un-
molested.

Clinton, having received reinforcements from England, coun-
termanded the order for troops from Virginia, and directed Corn-
wallis to establish an entrenched camp at some central point which
would form a nucleus for future operations. The army was ac-
cordingly transferred to Yorktown and Gloucester, where fortifi-
cations were rapidly thrown up.

During this midsummer campaign, Cornwallis had traversed
the rich fields of Virginia, plundering houses, burning farms and
fences, devastating crops, seizing horses and slaves, and inflicting
a total loss of fifteen million dollars.

The French-American army under Washington and Count de
Rochambeau was now encamped at Dobb's Ferry. Every effort
was put forth to prepare for a combined attack upon New York.
While he had maintained a bold front before Clinton, Washington
had really, however, been baffled on every hand. At one time
there were only two thousand men in camp, a number less than
that of the tories then in the British service. There was danger
of even this small force being disbanded for lack of provisions.
All the American fleet had been destroyed except two frigates,
*' Hancock," says Bancroft, " was vain and neglectful of business,
while the president of Pennsylvania was more ready to recount
what the State had done than what it meant to do." Morris now
once more came to the rescue. By giving his own notes for one
million four hundred thousand dollars, he obtained funds for the
outfit of the troops for the summer campaign.

The news of the departure from San Domingo for the Chesa-
peake of Count de Grasse, with a fleet of twenty-five ships-of-
the-line and several thousand troops, put a new phase on affairs.
The very day Cornwallis arrived at Yorktown, Washington re-
solved to transfer the allied army to Virginia. To the last the
fiction was kept up of a movement upon New York. Recon-
noissances were made, boats prepared, and ovens set up on the
New Jersey shore. On the 19th of August the troops were
paraded with their faces toward King's Bridge, when they were
wheeled to the right-about, and began their march southward.
Soon all the roads leading to King's Ferry were alive with the
gleam of arms, the tramping of men, and the heavy rumbling of
wheels. Clinton had captured a letter from Washington inform-

^"^' ^78i?''^' ^'] INVESTMENT OF YORKTOWN. 319

ing Congress of his plans for taking New York, and so much was
it relied upon that the British general thought these movements a
ruse to throw him off his guard. At Philadelphia, Morris could
strain his credit no more, and actually borrowed of Rochambeau
twenty thousand dollars in hard money to put the American troops
in good humor for their long march. While en route, Washing-
ton rode forward with Rochambeau and Chastellux at the rate of
sixty miles per day, and so secured time to stop at Mount Vernon
three days. It was his first visit home in over six years.

The net was fast weaving about the unsuspecting Cornwallis.
August 30th, Count de Grasse cast anchor within the capes of the
Chesapeake. September 5th, the English fleet appearing off the
coast, the French immediately offered battle, and inflicted such
a loss that the enemy sailed back to New York. De Barras took
advantage of this opportunity to slip in with the French transports
from Newport containing the artillery for the siege. On the 28thy
the allied army, sixteen thousand strong, drove in the outposts
and sat down before the entrenchments of Yorktown. That night
Washington lay in the open air under a mulberry tree, its root
serving for a pillow. October 5th, trenches were opened within
six hundred yards of the enemy's line — the French on the left and
the Americans on the right.

In the allied camp there were the utmost harmony and good-
will. The French were universal favorites, and everything was
cheerfully sacrificed for them — the guests of the nation — while
their officers, by the wise provision of Louis XVI., were all made
to act under the orders of Washington.

The town was bombarded night and day. Governor Nelson
commanded the battery that opened first upon the British. Corn-
wallis and his staff were at that time occupying the governor's
fine stone mansion. The patriot pointed one of his heaviest guns
directly toward the house, and ordered the gunners to play upon
it with spirit. The vessels in the harbor were fired with red-hot
shot. For a time the English replied with great vigor. One shell
fell near Baron Steuben, who, leaping into a trench to avoid its
effects, was closely followed by Wayne. The latter stumbling as
he jumped, fell squarely upon his superior officer. Steuben, whose
ready wit never deserted him, gave Wayne not a moment for
apology, but remarked, *' My dear sir^ I always knew you were
a brave officer, but I see you are perfect in every point of duty ;
you cover your general's retreat in the best manner possible."

320

THE LAST YEAR OF THE REVOLUTION.

root. 14.
L 1781.

On the 14th, two advanced redoubts were taken by assault — one
by the Americans and the other by the French, in generous rivalry.
The former were led by Lieutenant-Colonel Hamilton, who volun-
teered for the honor, and was the first to mount the rampart. The
men did not wait to remove the abattis, but scrambled through as
best they could, and, without firing a gun, swept all before them.
Lieutenant-Colonel Laurens turned the entrenchment, and with
his own hand captured the commandant. Every man who asked
it obtained quarter, although the news of the massacre at Fort
Griswold had just been received. The battalion of Gatinois was
at the head of the French column. It had been formed from a
regiment which had won the name of U Auvergne sans tache —

Auvergne without a stain — and when
Rochambeau, who had been their old
leader, assigned them their post, they
said they would die to a man if their
former title might be restored to them.
The French stopped under fire to
have the sappers remove the obstruc-
tions. Then they leaped forward,
and to the cry of ^' Vive le Roi I " swept
the redoubt. Within six minutes the
task was done. ** On that night," says Holmes, '' victory twined
double garlands around the banners of France and America."

Washington, standing in the grand battery with Generals
Knox and Lincoln, was an intensely excited spectator of these
assaults. One of his aides-de-camp, uneasy lest harm might come
to him, ventured to observe that the situation was very much ex-
posed. " If you think so," replied he, gravely, *' you are at liberty
to step back." Shortly afterward, says Irving, a musket-ball
struck the cannon in the embrasure, rolled along it, and fell at
his feet. General Knox grasped his arm. " My dear general,"
exclaimed he, '' we can't spare you yet." " It is a spent ball,"
replied Washington, quietly ; " no harm is done." When all was
over, and the redoubts were taken, he drew a long breath, and,
turning to Knox, observed, " The work is done, and well done."
Then he called to his servant, " William, bring me my horse."

The same night both redoubts were included within the
second parallel. Two days after, the English made a sally, but
were driven back pell-mell. As a last resort, Comwallis attempted
to ferry his men across by night to Gloucester, hoping to break

Washington's * '
Bead Quarters ■•*'

Ajnerican 1^

Oen.Knox.
J-^Biead Quarters

Oct. 19,1
1781. J

SURRENDER OF CORNWALLIS.

321

through the lines there, and escape over the country to New York.
A part of his army had crossed, when a storm scattered his boats
and put an end to this daring scheme. One hundred heavy can-
non were now playing upon every part of the works, which were
already so damaged that hardly a gun could be used in reply.
An assault was imminent. Nothing was heard from Clinton, who
had promised aid by the 5th. There was no other resource, and
on the 19th Cornwallis capitulated.

The scene of the surrender was imposing. It was arranged
that General Lincoln should accept the submission of the captive
general exactly as his own had been received at Charleston

SURRENDER OF CORNWALLIS AT YORKTOWN.

eighteen months before. The allied forces were drawn up on op^
posite sides of the road for over a mile, the French on the left and
the Americans on the right. Washington and Rochambeau, each
with his staff, stood at the head of his army. The English, about
seven thousand in number, marched between the lines, with slow
step, shouldered arms, and cased colors. With deep chagrin and
sullen look, the officers gave the order to ''ground arms"; the
men throwing down their guns as if to break them, until General
Lincoln checked the irregularity. Every eye was turned to
catch a sight of Cornwallis, but, vexed and annoyed, he feigned
sickness, and sent his sword by the hand of General O'Hara.
21

322 THE LAST YEAR OF THE REVOLUTION. [,%*[;

" From Yorktown's ruins, ranked and still,
Two lines stretch far o'er vale and hill :
Who curbs his steed at head of one ?
Hark ! the low murmur : Washington !
Who bends his keen, approving glance
Where down the gorgeous line of France
Shine knightly star and plume of snow?
Thou too art victor, Rochambeau !

" The earth which bears this calm array
Shook with the war-charge yesterday ;
Ploughed deep with hurrying hoof and wheel,
Shot down and bladed thick with steel ;
October's clear and noonday sun
Paled in the breath-smoke of the gun ;
And down night's double blackness fell,
Like a dropped star, the blazing shell.

" Now all is hushed : the gleaming lines
Stand moveless as the neighboring pines;
While through them, sullen, grim, and slow.
The conquered hosts of England go :
O'Hara's brow belies his dress,
Gay Tarleton's troop ride bannerless :
Shout, from thy fired and wasted homes,
Thy scourge, Virginia, captive comes ! " — Whittier.

The very day the capitulation was signed, Clinton sailed from
New York with the promised reinforcement. He reached the
capes of Virginia on the 24th, when, learning of the disaster, he
returned crestfallen.

Tidings of the surrender reached Philadelphia at the dead
of night. The people were awakened by the watchman's cry,
" Past two o'clock, and Cornwallis is taken ! " Lights flashed
through the houses, and soon the streets were thronged with
crowds eager to learn the glad news. Some were speechless
with delight ; many wept ; and the old door-keeper of Congress
died of joy. Congress met at an early hour, and that afternoon
marched in solemn procession to the Lutheran church to return
thanks to Almighty God. The day after, Washington ordered
Divine service to be held at the head of the regiments on account
of the "particular interposition of Providence on their behalf."

Notwithstanding the great provocations which had been given
by Cornwallis and his officers, they received only consideration
and respect at the hands of their conquerors. But nothing could
atone to the fallen British general for the mortification of his de-

1781-1783.] END OF THE WAR. 323

feat. One day, when he was standing with his hat off in presence
of Washington, the latter kindly observed : " My lord, you had
better be covered from the cold." " It matters not what becomes
of this head now," was the bitter reply.

Lord North received the news as he would '* a cannon-ball in
his breast." He paced the room, tossing his arms, and crying,
" O God ! it is all over ! " The hope of subduing America was
now abandoned by the people of England, and they loudly de-
manded the removal of the ministers who still counseled war.
The House of Commons voted that whoever advised the king to
continue hostilities should be considered a public enemy. Early
in May, 1782, Sir Guy Carleton arrived in New York with prop-
ositions for a reconciliation between the two countries.

The struggle which commenced in Massachusetts had now
closed in Virginia. With the surrender at Yorktown, the war
was virtually at an end. The American armies still, however,
kept the field, and various minor skirmishes occurred. Greene's
men, without regular food, clothing or pay, held the British
closely confined in Charleston ; while Wayne guarded the garri-
son in Augusta with watchful vigilance. In August, 1782, Lieu-
tenant-Colonel Laurens was killed at Combahee Ferry while
resisting the advance of a foraging detachment from Charleston.
The last blood shed in the Revolution is said to have been that of
Captain Wilmot, in September, during a skirmish at Stono Ferry.

Preliminary articles of peace were signed at Versailles, No-
vember 30, 1782. In order to give England time to adjust her
difficulties with France, the final treaty was not executed until
September 3d of the following year. Meanwhile, on April 19th,
the eighth anniversary of the battle of Lexington, which began
the war, Washington, at the headquarters of the army, officially
proclaimed its close. Charleston had been evacuated by the
British, December 14, 1782, and Savannah, July 11, 1783. The
English troops were then collected at New York from all points.
On November 25th — a cold, frosty day — the British army and the
refugees embarked in boats for Staten and Long Islands, prepara-
tory to taking ship. The same morning, General Knox, who had
come down from West Point with some American troops, entered
the city from the Bowery. At three o'clock in the afternoon,
they took possession of Fort George, upon the Battery, amid the
shouts of the crowd and the roar of the guns.

Soon after, Washington and his staff and Governor Clinton

324 END OF THE WAR. [1781-1783.

and suite made a formal entry ; the commander-in-chief taking up
his headquarters at Fraunces's Tavern — a house still standing on
the corner of Pearl and Broad streets. Here, December 4th,
Washington bade farewell to his principal officers. It was a
tender, touching scene. Passing thence, he set out to offer his
commission to Congress. When he entered the barge, and, bid-
ding adieu to the assembled multitude, disappeared from sight,
the War of the Revolution ceased and a new epoch dawned.

GEORGE lU.

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