m THE LIFE OF GEORGE WASHINGTON, J. T. HEADLEY, J.FTHOR OF "WASHINGTON AND HIS GENERALS," "NAPOLEON AND HIB MARSHALS,'' " THE SACRED MOUNTAINS," ETC. PORTSMOUTH, N. H. : PUBLISHED BY G. & F. BILL. 1858. fT r -l I J Entered according to Act of Congress in the year 1858, by G. & F. BILL, In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of Massachusetts. T i. StacK^ annex ' 5 PREFACE. IN preparing this work, my design has been to popularize the Life of Washington by confining myself to events and incidents intimately connected with him and his movements, and thus make the work less voluminous than it would be if it embraced a more detailed history of concurrent events. Recent collections of documents throwing new light on the war of the Revolution made such a work desirable. Mr Lossing, by his researches, has exhumed a vast amount of interesting matter. All of Rufus Putnam's papers and correspondence and diary have also been put in my hands, which shed an entirely new light on some of the most in- teresting events of the Revolution, and movements of Washington. The reader will, therefore, find a vast num- ber of facts in this work which have never before appeared in any Life of Washington, but which add greatly to the interest which surrounds his character. The Historical Societies of different States have also yielded me, by their valuable collections, much aid. Their efforts for the last few years to gather and preserve old documents and letters, which were fast passing away, have added greatly to the material for any work connected with the Revolution. The amount of my indebtedness to these new sources of information will be readily perceived by the reader. As to the rest, I have consulted the usual authorities on that period of our history, a list of which would be too long to give in this place 2031734 LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. STEEL ENGRAVINGS. PAGE Portrait of Washington, from an Original Painting by Stuart in the Boston Athenaeum, 1 Washington Crossing the Alleghany 33 Portrait of Washington at the age of forty, from an Original Painting in the possession of George W. P. Custis 135 Putnam Receiving the Intelligence of the Battle of Lexington 175 Mercer Mortally Wounded at Princeton 281 Lafayette's Last Interview with Louis Sixteenth and Marie Antoinette before his Depart- ure for America 301 Washington at Valley Forge 373 The Oath at Valley Forge 385 Capture of Major Andre 421 WOOD ENGRAVINGS. Washington and his Mother. 19 Death of Jumonville 48 Defeat of Braddock 61 Burial of Braddock 75 Planting of the Royal Flag on the Ruins of Fort Duquesne 90 Chairing Colonel Wood as proxy for Washington 103 Washington's Wedding 115 Washington Dragging the Poacher Ashore 125 Descending the Ohio 145 Christening the Liberty Tree 155 Duche's Prayer in Congress 165 Scene at Stockbridge, on Receiving News of the Battle of Lexington 185 Knox entering Camp with Artillery 198 Evacuation of Boston 209 The Bellman informed of the Passage of the Declaration of Independence 222 Tearing Down the Statue of George III 281 Young Callender Fighting his Gun 242 Washington endeavoring to Rally the Fugitives -''1 Quaker Lady Detaining the English General 263 viii. LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. PACK Washington and Captain Forest inquiring for the Hessian Picket 271 Washington at Princeton 291 Countrymen Joining the Army under Gates 311 Washington Urging the Countryman to Greater Speed 823 Night Attack at Paoli 335 Attack on Fort Mifflin 347 Abandoning the Vessels at Gloucester 361 Washington and Lee at Monmouth 397 Moll Pitcher at Monmouth 409 Washington Taking Leave of the Army 434 Washington at the Death-bed of young Custis 445 Washington Taking Leave of his Mother , 457 Washington as a Farmer 470 TABLE OF CONTENTS. CHAPTER I. Birth and Death of Great Men Ancestry of George Loss of his Father- Sent to District School Early History Appointed Surveyor Forest Life Goes to Barbadoes with a Sick Brother Appointed Major over the Militia- Sent a Commissioner to the French Account of his Perilous Journey. - CHAPTER IT. Washington sent against the French Hostilities of the latter Fort Duques->e Difficulties of the March Dangerous Explorations Message from the Half- King Night March Attack on Jumonville Feelings of Washington in his First Battle Final Results of it Fort Necessity Battle of the Great Mea- dows Washington Capitulates Resigns in Disgust his Commission Tart Refusal to Join the Army under Governor Sharpe Accepts Braddock's Request to act as Volunteer Aid Is taken Sick Joins the Army Battle of Monongahela Bravery of Washington The Retreat Death of Braddock Washington Reads the Funeral Service Burial by Torch-light Scenes around Fort Du Quesne Demoniacal Jubilee of the Indians Washington at Mount Vernon Disgust with the Government Apppointed Commander-in- Chief of the Virginia Forces Head-quarters at Winchester Inroads of the Indians Terror of the Settlers Sternness of Washington False Rumors Difficulty with Captain Dagworthy Goes to Boston to refer it to Governor Shirley Reception on the way Falls in love with Miss Phillips of New York His Return. - * . . - CHAPTER III. t Fresh Hostilities of the Indians Attempts to Supersede Washington Anony- mous Libels Washington wishes to Resign Prevented by his Friends Establishes a Line of Forts Harassing Nature of his Duties Attends a Convention at Philadelphia His Sickness and Retirement to Mount Vernon Progress of the War Frederick the Great Washington's first Acquaint- ance with Mrs. Custis Advance of the Army to Fort Du Quesne Wash- ington required to cut a New Road His Forebodings likely to prove true Capture of the Fort Election of Washington to the House of Burgesses His Marriage Life at Mount Vcrnon Collision with a Poacher Settles the Soldiers' Claims Expedition to the "Western Wilderness to examine the Wild Landfc Admirable Preparation for his Future Career. - X TABLE OF CON TENTS. CHAPTER IV. Character of the Colonists First Attempt to Tax the Provinces Its Recep- tion by the People Taxation Discussed in the British Parliament Speech of Colonel Barre Attitude of Virginia Speech of Patrick Henry South Carolina and Gadsden Attacks on Stamp-Master J. Ingersoll First Con- gress at New York The Stamp Act Repealed Excitement and Joy of the Colonists Washington's Views of it Duties on Tea, Paper, etc. Tea thrown overboard in Boston Harbor Port Bill Virginia Assembly and Conduct of Washington Fast Day Fairfax Resolutions Washington's Letter to Mr. Bryan Fairfax He is Elected a Delegate to the First General Congress Action of Congress Prayer by Duche Washington's standing in Congress Lexington and Concord Excitement of the People Stock- bridge The Second Congress Washington Chairman of every Committee Appointed Commander-in-Chief Battle of Bunker Hill Journey of Wash- ington to Cambridge Takes Command of the Army Its Character Ap- pearance of the Encampment Washington's first order Organization of the Army Difficulties that beset him Forced to act contrary to his wishes. CHAPTER V. Washington Remonstrates against the Treatment of American Prisoners Sends Arnold to Quebec Want of Powder in the Army A new Army raised The National Flag first hoisted Washington prevented from As- saulting the Enemy's Works His feelings under the delay Thinks of the Poor at Home " Boston Blockaded," a faree Washington takes Possession of Dorchester Heights Howe resolves to storm them Attempt abandoned, and the Evacuation of Boston commenced Sufferings of the Tories Wash- ington orders the Army to New York Lee sent South His Letter Wash- ington Visits Congress His Views of a Declaration of Independence Defeat of the Northern Army Attempt to spread Disaffection in Washington's Guard Congress discusses the Declaration of Independence Excitement in Philadelphia at the final vote Its reception by the Army and People Operations around New York Howe's Letter to George Washington, Esq. The assembling of the British force State of the two Armies. CHAPTER VI. The British land on Long Island Sickness of Greene The Battle Defeat of Sullivan and Stirling Masterly Retreat to New York Causes of Failure New York abandoned Retreat of Washington to Harlaem Heights Land- ing of the British at Kip's Bay Poltroonery of the Americans and rage of Washington His severe Order of the Day Remarks on this Conduct of Washington Narrow Escape of Putnam with his Division Skirmish be- tween two Detachments and Death of Knowlton Manoeuvre of Howe and Battle of Chattel-ton's Hill Retreat of Washington Fall of Fort Washing- ton. TABLE OF CONTENTS. CHAPTER VII. Retreat of Washington through the Jerseys Disorganization of his Army Finally takes post beyond the Delaware, near Trenton Unaccountable apathy Washington takes advantage of it Reinforced Reorganization of the Army Washington resolves to march on Trenton Passage of the river The Attack The Victory March on Princeton Astonishment of Cornwallis Death of Colonel Rahl The effect of the Victory upon the Country Poverty of the Army Robert Morris, the noble Financier etc., etc. -----------. CHAPTER VIII. Washington's Fame in Europe Barbarity of the Hessians Depredations of the Troops General Heath summons Fort Independence to surrender Washington issues a counter Proclamation to that of Howe Illy received in New Jersey Five additional Major Generals and ten Brigadiers appoint- ed Inhuman treatment of American Prisoners by the British Arnold and Wooster drive Governor Tryon back to his ships Meigs' Expedition to Sag Harbor The British Evacuate New Jersey Arrival of Lafayette His Interview with Washington The British land at Elk and march on Phila- delphia Washington advances to meet them Skirmishing Washington re-crosses the Brandy wine and takes position near Chad's Ford Position of the Northern Army, etc. .... ^..,. -, . CHAPTER IX. Battle of Brandywine Anew account of the loss of the British, found among General Clinton's papers Washington again offers Howe Battle Defeat of Wayne at Paoli Philadelphia taken Fortifications erected at Mud Bank and Red Bank Tenacity of Washington Battle of Germantown Cause of the Defeat of the Americans. CHAPTER X. Fall of Burgoyne Sermon of Timothy D wight Letter from Washington to Howe Attack on Fort Mercer and Death of Count Donop Gallant Defence and Fall of Fort Mifflin Fall of Fort Mercer March of Howe against Washington, and Address of the latter to his Troops The Conway Cabal and fate of the head Conspirators Valley Forge Sufferings of the Soldiers Washington at Prayer Labors of Washington and Inefficiency of Congress The Half-Pay Establishment Washington's Answer to the Complaint that he did not make a Winter Campaign News of the Alliance of France Celebration of it in Valley Forge Baron Steuben and the Effects of his Discipline on the Army Howe resolves to Evacuate Philadelphia Council of War in American Camp on the best course to adopt. $11 TABLE OF CONTENTS. CHAPTER XI. Lafayette at Barren Hill The Oath of Allegiance taken by the Officers-=- Strange conduct of Lee Evacuation of Philadelphia Determination of Washington Battle of Monmouth and conduct of Lee Arrival of the French Fleet Attack on New York planned Failure of the Attempt against Newport, and Displeasure of the French Commander Massacre of Baylor's Dragoons and American Troops at E New Jersey. Cornwallis, who, supposing the campaign was closed, had taken passage for England, was directed to repair with all haste to his post, and soon a formidable army assembled at Princeton. On the 2d of January, 1777, Cornwallis put his columns in motion, and before daylight in the morning was in front of Trenton. Washington, who had ascertained from scouts in what over- whelming numbers the enemy was moving against him, withdrew his forces over the Assanpink, and planted bat- teries so as to command the bridge and the different fords in the vicinity. His position now became one of extreme peril. To make a successful stand there on the banks of the Assanpink was impossible, for so soon as Cornwallis should discern how small was the force opposed to him, he would by the mere weight of numbers crush it at once. To deliver battle, under the circumstances, would insure the utter overthrow of the army. Victory could not be dreamed of, while retreat was impossible, for the ice-filled Delaware was surging in rear, and before the enemy's cavalry the half-disciplined militia would become a herd of fugitives. One can hardly imagine what great object Washington had in view to compensate for the hazardous position he had voluntarily taken, for he now stood with his hands tied. Nothing was to be done except meet his fate manfully, un- less fortune or Heaven interfered in some unlocked for way in his behalf. One thing, however, was evident : he must gain time or be lost hopelessly. The night might bring relief, and he therefore sent forward detachments to harass the enemy's march and detain him as long as possible from reaching the Assanpink. Colonels Reed and Howard, and Captain Forest with the artillery, aided as they closed fiercer and sterner with the foe by Morgan and Miller, caused the 208 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. vanguard to halt and the massive columns to close up in order of battle. Waiting for the artillery to scour a wood in which the two latter officers lay concealed, and kept up an incessant, galling fire, the British were delayed two hours. This in all probability saved the American army. Washington stood on the shores of the narrow Assanpink and watched with the most painful anxiety the steadily ap- proaching fire. The gallant regiments that had thrown themselves so resolutely in the path of the enemy were being gradually forced back, and as they approached the banks of the stream Washington rode across and thanked them for their heroic conduct. He called on them to dis- pute every inch of ground, and retire only when necessary to save their pieces. A loud and cheering shout ran along their ranks, and the next moment their volleys were again telling on the enemy. But at length, being driven to the river, the order was given to defile over the bridge to the main army. The advance columns of the British followed eagerly after, and as they reached the shore attempted to force a passage, both at the fords and the bridge. But the well planted batteries of the Americans swept the heads of the advancing columns with such a deadly fire that they recoiled before it, leaving the stream filled with the dead. Between every discharge the whole army cheered. At length Cornwallis arrived with the remaining artillery, when a terrific cannonade was opened on the American lines. Battery answered battery, and the deep thunder rolled away over the plains, carrying consternation to the inhabitants. It was now sunset, and Washington expected every moment to see the heavy columns under the protection of their artillery move to the assault. Had this been done, th.ere is but little doubt that the American army would have been annihilated. Cornwallis, however, being ignorant t>f the force opposed to him, and not liking to make a decisive effort in the dark, resolved to wait till morning and renew EVACUATION OF BOSTON, LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 211 the attack. The stubborn resistance he had met with during the day, and the bold attitude of his antagonist, mis- led him, and he supposed Washington designed to offer him battle on the spot where he had drawn up his army. Ers- kine, who was with Cornwallis, remonstrated against this fatal resolution, declaring that in the morning Washington would not be there. The former, however, was firm, and soon the loud explosions of artillery gave way to the con- fused hum of the two armies as they sunk to their bivouacks, within sight of each other's camp-fires. Washington imme- diately called a council of war at the tent of St. Clair, to determine what course to adopt in this extremity. Judging from the large force opposed to him that many regimen's had not been left behind at Princeton and Brunswick, he proposed by a circuitous vigorous night-march to get in the enemy's rear, and threatening at the same his stores at Brunswick and his communication with New York, frighten him back from Philadelphia. If Howe kept on, the city must inevitably fall, as the only obstacle between it and him would be removed, still the preservation of the army was now the great question, and not that of Philadelphia. This daring resolution to march back into tke heart of New Jersey, and resume a furious offensive, at the very mo- ment when all defense seemed hopeless, was one of those inspirations of genius by which Bonaparte so often saved his army and empire. He wished to execute a similar movement and march on Berlin, when pressed so heavily by the allies after the disastrous retreat from Russia, but he was overruled by his officers took post at Leipsic, and was overthrown. He adopted the same bold resolution in his last struggle on the soil of France, and gaming the rear of the allies attempted to draw them back from Paris, but the latter would not be diverted from their purpose, and so reached the capital before him. There was, however, one apparently insuperable obstacle 212 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. in the way of carrying out this daring plan. There had been a thaw, and the roads were so soft that it would be impossible to get forward the artillery, composed of forty pieces, rapidly enough to reach Princeton by morning. To the infinite delight of Washington this objection was most unexpectedly and suddenly removed the wind changed into the north while the council was deliberating, and in two hours the roads were frozen as hard as iron. This settled the question, and preparations for marching were immediately set on foot. The baggage was sent down to Burlington, while fires were ordered to be kindled in front of the lines. The soldiers, scattered and in groups, roamed the fields, tearing down fences for fuel, and in a short time a bright fire blazed around the American camp. Guards were placed at the fords and bridge, and working parties were detailed as if to throw up trenches, the sound of whose heavy toil lulled into greater security the sentinels on watch. Washington kept up also his patrols, who were so near to those of the enemy that the countersigns of each could be distinctly heard by the other. At one o'clock in the morning the army began its stealthy march, and silently and swiftly defiled away from its in- trenchments. But the road chosen was unfortunately a new incomplete one, filled with stumps. Against these the wheels of the artillery, as they 'Were driven rapidly along, thumped heavily, and many of them were broken, thus seriously retarding the march. But for this the army would have reached Princeton before daylight, and Washington had time to have advanced on Brunswick, where large stores and l 0,000 were collected. It was a cold, bluster- ing night, and the scantily supplied troops, who had now been twenty-fours hours without sleep, and mostly without food, suffered severely. As it grew toward morning, Wash- ington kept exclusively with the advance column, watching eagerly for the daylight. At length the cold, gray dawn LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 213 appeared, when the troops were hurried forward with greater speed. They were now close on Princeton, and as the bright sun rose over the hills, the white columns of smoke arising from the chimney-tops through the frosty air were a grateful spectacle to the hungry, weary and be- numbed soldiers. But the next moment there flashed forth in the wintry beams a long line of bayonets, and the whole road before the Americans was reddened with scarlet uni- forms. Three British regiments had been quartered over night at Princeton, whose arrival at the head-quarters of Cornwallis in the morning was to be the signal of a general assault on the American lines. Two of these were already on the march, and did not at first observe the main Ameri- can army, which, concealed behind a piece of woods, was swiftly passing along a by-road over a low piece of ground, straight for Princeton. General Mercer, with about three hundred and fifty soldiers, many of them young men of wealth from Philadelphia, was sent by Washington to take possession of the traveled highway to Trenton, and seize the bridge over which it passed and cut off any fugitives who might attempt to escape to Cornwallis. He had scarcely commenced his march when he became revealed to the astonished British. Mawhood, the commander, had just crossed the bridge on his way to Trenton, when this appari- tion burst upon him. Instantly seeing the danger he was in of being cut off from Princeton, and attacked in the open country, he suddenly wheeled and recrossed the stream reaching the opposite bank just as Mercer's column arrived. The two commanders then made a desperate effort to gain the high ground nearer Princeton, ascending the slope on opposite sides. Mercer was first up, and pressing through an orchard saw the British line rapidly approach- ing. A rail-fence lay between them, behind which the Americans took shelter and poured in a deadly volley. The British, who were advancing at the charge step, halted and 12 214 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. delivered their fire at the same moment. The lines were so near to each other that the smoke of the two volleys met and curled gracefully upward together in the morning sunlight. The moment the enemy had delivered their fire the order to charge was given, and they rushed forward with the bayonet. The Americans, many of them being armed only with rifles, soon broke and fled down the hill. Mercer, his horse being wounded, rushed on foot amid his men, endeavoring by word and example to rally them. With a portion of them he was in a hand to hand fight with the British, when a soldier leveled him to the ground with his musket. A half a dozen bayonets immediately gleamed over his breast, and the soldiers cried out, " call for quar- ters, you d d rebel." Mercer indignantly refused, and cut at the nearest with his sword, when he was transfixed to the earth and left for dead.* As Mawhood pushed across the hill in pursuit of the flying detachment, he came to the brow that looked down on the army under Washington, moving rapidly up to the aid of Mercer. He saw the * Hugh Mercer was a Scotchman by birth, and came to this country as a phy- sician. He early entered the military service, and served with Washington when the latter was a Virginia colonel. He was wounded at the battle of Monongahela, and unable to keep up with Braddock's army in its wild retreat, lay down behind a log to die. The savages were all around him, tomahawking the wounded and scalping the dead, yet he remained concealed, listening to the groans and diabolical yells that marked their infernal labor. At length as night drew in he was left alone with the forest and ghastly dead. Faint with the loss of blood, and parched with fever, he crawled forth, and reaching a little rivulet quenched his raging thirst. Refreshed by the cooling draught, he endeavored to follow in the track of the army. But he was a hundred miles from any settlement, and unable with his shattered shoulder to obtain any food. Faint and exhausted, he was compelled to halt at short inter- vals and rest Slow death by famine now stared him in the face, but as he stumbled along he saw a rattlesnake in his path. By great exertion he succeeded in killing the viper. He then with his unwounded arm and hand skinned him and devoured part of the flesh raw. The remainder he flung over his unwounded shoulder and pressed on. When the pangs of hunger could be no longer endured, or nature became exhausted, he would chew a piece of the reptile, and thus succeeded in reaching Fort Cumberland, though a mere walking skeleton. He survived the battle of Princeton but a few days, and died in great pain. He was a gallant officer, and his death was universally lamented. LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 215 latter, who was in advance of the main body with a select corps, ride forward to arrest the fugitives, and with his hat swinging above his head, gallop swiftly from point to point to steady his troops, who had already begun to feel the effects of the first panic. His quick eye detected at a glance the desperate odds against him, but taking advantage of the confusion the defeated detachment had created, he gallantly resolved to charge, and with loud shouts the troops rushed forward. Before the threatened shock the Americans began to recoil. Washington, knowing that defeat would be anni- hilation, no sooner saw his ranks begin to shake than he spurred forward, shouting to his astonished troops to follow him, and rode to within thirty yards of the enemy, and halted, while his staff gazed on him with astonishment. The hitherto wavering militia wheeled instantly into line. The enemy then halted and dressed their line also, and the order to fire passed simultaneously along the ranks of both. Washington still sat midway between the two, his eye turned full on the foe. One of his aids, horror-struck at the sight, dropped the reins upon his horse's neck and covered his face with his chapeau, so as not to see his com- mander fall. A crash of musketry followed, and when the smoke lifted there sat Washington, to the amazement of all, unharmed. The next moment his loud shout rose over the din of battle, and swinging his hat over his head for a ban- ner to those who pressed after, he spurred against the flying enemy. His favorite aid wept like a child at the spectacle, while Fitzgerald, another aid, and the finest horseman in the army, dashed up to him, and in the suddenness of his joy exclaimed, " Thank God your excellency is safe" Wash- ington gave one grasp of the hand to his weeping aid, and turning to Fitzgerald, exclaimed " Away, my dear colonel bring up the troops, the day is our own." '- Long live Wash- ington!" rolled back over the field, and went up like a morning anthem to heaven. The second regiment ad- 216 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. vancing to sustain the first, was also routed. All now was excitement and exultation in the American army, and the patriots forgetting the exhaustion of the last night's march streamed after the fugitives. The first heavy explosions of cannon at Princeton roused up Cornwallis, who thought it thundered. But Erskine knew too well what the sound betokened, and exclaimed, "To arms, general; the enemy is at Princeton!" A single glance at the empty intrenchme'nts of the Americans re- vealed the whole terrible plot that had been sprung upon him, and the cry of " to arms," " to arms," and rapid roll of drums, and blast of the bugle sounded wildly through the camp, and in a few minutes artillery, infantry, and cavalry were thundering along the road toward Princeton, which lay only ten miles distant. Washington, knowing that the first sound of his guns would bring the enemy upon him, pressed the regiments he encountered with all the energy and vehemence in his power. He also sent a de- tachment to destroy the bridge that Mercer had been directed to occupy, in order to arrest their progress and delay the pursuit. Major Kelley, who commanded it, had just begun to tear up the planks when the van of the British rose over the hill in the distance, coming on a run. The latter imme- diately threw a discharge of round shot into the detachment, which drove it away from the river. The Americans sue ceeded, however, in tumbling all the planks into the stream, leaving only the skeleton of timbers standing. This stopped the progress of the artillery, but Cornwallis, hearing the roar of Washington's cannon beyond Princeton, and fearing for his stores at Brunswick, ordered the soldiers into the stream where it was fordable. Breast deep they plunged in, and struggled bravely through the ice-filled channel. But they had scarcely mounted the opposite bank before the cold January morning froze their uniforms stiff upon them. Still the urgent order of the officers was " forward," " forward," LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 217 and the benumbed troops pressed on to Princeton. As the advance-guard approached the town an iron thirty- two pounder, left on a breast-work, was fired by some one, which brought them to a sudden pause. Cornwallis riding up, surveyed a moment the battery, and concluding that Wash- ington had made a stand there to offer him battle, ordered a halt. A sharp reconnoisance was immediately made by parties on horseback, and a whole hour was wasted in con- sulting on the best mode of taking this formidable battery. At length the steady columns moved forward to the assault, but meeting no resistance quietly entered the half-finished works, when to their amazement they found not a soul within. Washington all this time was chasing up the two regiments fleeing toward Brunswick. Having pursued the enemy as far as Kingston, he halted, and collecting his officers hastily around him on horseback, asked \\hether it was best to continue on to Brunswick. The prize was tempting, but Cornwallis was in close pursuit with a large army of fresh troops, supported by cavalry, while many of the Americans, having marched two whole nights without shoes and stockings, measuring the frozen highway and charging in battle barefoot, and that too without break- fast or dinner, were completely exhausted. It was resolved, therefore, to abandon the pursuit; and turning off into a narrow road, the army reached Pluckemin that evening in safety, with three hundred prisoners, while between one and two hundred of the enemy had been left stark and stiff on the slopes before Princeton. Halting at the latter place only long enough to give his tired gallant little army food and rest, he pushed on to Morristown, where he soon after took up his winter-quarters. Here, girdled in by moun- tains from whose bases a country rich in supplies extended on every side, he gathered his victorious troops, but not to rest. Scarcely a morning passed without the bugle call re- sounding through the camp announced that a detachment 218 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. was on the march to intercept or attack the foraging parties of the enemy. These were cut off or driven in so constantly .that the British commander found it impossible to sustain his army except at those places which had open water com- munication with New York. Soon all New Jersey, but Brunswick and Amboy, were cleared of the enemy, and Philadelphia relieved from immediate danger. Thus in less than a single fortnight Washington, by a succession of the most brilliant and daring manoeuvres on record, had lifted the nation out of the depths of despond- ency, gave confidence to the government, turned the tide of misfortune, and covered his tattered troops with glory. The shout of exultation that followed rung round the civilized world till even kings learned to reverence the name of Washington, and baptized him the " American Fabius." Such unexpected, sudden results, took friends and foes equally by surprise. The British commander was stunned. He had been chasing Washington all the autumn, endeavor- ing by every means in his power to provoke him to battle. He had taken more than four thousand prisoners divided and reduced his army, till, without shelter and almost with- out clothing, it lay shivering on the banks of the Delaware. To this downward point he had forced it in mid-winter, when he thought it could not possibly resume successful operations. But just at this moment, when Washington was never so little able even to defend himself, the British commander saw him suddenly wheel about and breaking into one of the most furious offensives on record, fall like successive thunder-claps on his strong battalions, and roll them back at every point. He found that Washington, with all the wariness of the fox, had the terrible spring of the lion. The amount of suffering Washington endured in this long and tedious retreat, the noble struggles he had passed through to bear up against the want of supplies, of arms, and even LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 219 of ammunition against a murmuring, rebellious, and, worse than all, cowardly army against the suspicion of his own officers and neglect of the very States he was striving to defend against the jealousy of Congress against poverty, destitution and wholesale desertion, will never be known. It remained locked up in his great heart, and even in after years was never spoken of. Neither shall we know what dreadful anxiety weighed him down after he had taken the desperate resolution he did, until success crowned his efforts. With his almost infallible judgment he had evidently mea- sured in its length and breadth the cause of the colonies, and knew that if he should continue to retreat, and Phila- delphia fall into the hands of the enemy, his demoralized army would disband, and spring find the current setting so strongly back toward the mother country that it would be impossible to offer any effectual resistance to the enemy. The moral effect of a victory he must have, or be lost, and he determined to risk all to gain it. It is evident he had made up his mind never to survive defeat. He felt he had reached the turning point in the struggle beyond lay both hope and despair. In this crisis of his country's destiny, he resolved to occupy the post of greatest danger himself, and if the decree had gone out against his country, receive the first blow on his own breast. He was too noble, too great, to peril so fearfully his army and the cause of freedom, and wish to survive their overthrow. Hence, although com- mander-in-chief, he became in fact leader of the advance guard, both in the march on Trenton and Princeton. To the remonstrance of his officers in the first battle, not to expose his person so recklessly, he scarcely deigned a reply. At Princeton he planted himself where his death must in- evitably follow the desertion of his troops, and where it was almost certain to happen whatever the issue might be. He had reached a crisis demanding a sacrifice, and he cast himself and his little band on the altar, and by that sacri- 220 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. fice, great as it was glorious, redeemed his country. The triumph was complete, but the officers trembled when they reflected at what peril to Washington it had been achieved, and besought him in future to be more prudent, for too great interests were bound up in his life to have it so lavishly exposed. \ Y J THE BELLMAN INFORMED OF THE PASSAGE OP THE DECLARATION OP INDEPENDENCE. LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 223 CHAPTER Vin. Washington'3 Fame in Europe Barbarity of the Hessians Depredations of the Troops General Heath summons Fort Independence to surrender Washing- ton issues a counter Proclamation to that of Howe, which is poorly received in New Jersey Five additional Major Generals and ten Brigadiers appointed In- human treatment of American Prisoners by the British Arnold and Wooster drive Governor Tryon back to his ships Meigs' Expedition to Sag Harbor The British Evacuate New Jersey Arrival of Lafayette His Interview with Wash- ington The British land at Elk and march on Philadelphia Washington advances to meet them Skirmishing Washington re-crosses the Brandy wine and takes position near Chad's Ford Position of the Northern Army, etc. AN officer, writing from Morristown, after the battle of Princeton, said, " Our army love their general very much, but they have one thing against him : which is the little care he takes of himself in any action. His personal bravery and the desire he has of animating his troops by his ex ample make him fearless of danger. This occasions us much uneasiness. But Heaven, which has hitherto been his shield, will, I hope, still continue to guard his valuable life."* As one traces Washington through this campaign, and learns to appreciate all the difficulties that beset him, and looks into his secret heart and sees how pure, how noble, how unselfish and full of devotion to his country all his feelings are, he exclaims at every step, "INCOMPARABLE MAN!" No suspicion and distrust can excite his hostility, no re- proaches or unjust insinuations drive him into hasty action no accumulation of disaster or oppression or want shake his purpose or unsettle for a moment his judgment. The nations of Europe had watched the progress of the struggle with great interest, and the news of these sudden victories at Trenton and Princeton, and of the first great check of the enemy, filled them with admiration. Says Botta, *Vide Sparks' Letters and Speeches of Washington. 224 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. " Achievements so astonishing gained for the American commander a very great reputation, and were regarded with wonder by all nations, as well as by the Americans. Every one applauded the prudence, the firmness and the daring of General Washington. All declared him the saviour of his country ; all proclaimed him equal to the most renowned commanders of antiquity, and especially distinguished him by the name of the American Fabius. His name was in the mouths of all men, and celebrated by the pens of the most eminent writers. The greatest personages in Europe be- stowed upon him praise and congratulations. Thus the American general wanted neither a noble cause to defend, nor an opportunity for acquiring glory, nor the genius to avail himself of it, nor a whole generation of men compe- tent and well disposed to render him homage." Washington had no sooner got his army well housed in log huts, than he began, as before remarked, to send out de- tachments to cut off English foraging parties. In this he received great assistance from the inhabitants, who, aroused by the atrocities committed by the Hessian and English troops, thirsted for vengeance. The pardon granted by Howe to those who took the oath of allegiance had been of no avail. The Hessian soldiers, looking upon the Ameri- cans as barbarians and outlaws, denied to friend and foe alike the protection usually extended to peaceful inhabitants by an invading army. The wintry heavens were made lurid with the flames of burning dwellings, and the shrieks of murdered men, and of women outraged and ravished in presence of their own families, were borne on every breeze over the land. Oppressed with a powerful army, the inhabitants had been compelled to remain passive under these aggravated acts of violence, and those who had taken the oath of allegiance saw that their cowardice or lukewarmness in the cause of their country, had only brought on them contempt LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 225 and ruin. New Jersey had become a scene of horror and desolation, and the atrocities committed by the enemy were bruited over Europe, and awakened in the French people the deepest indignation, who compared the English to the Goths and Vandals in their incursions against the civilized nations of Europe. This wholesale pillage of the inhabitants was not confined to the invaders, the American troops themselves sacked the dwellings of the wealthy, de- claring they were partisans of the king, and hence their property should be confiscated. But this sudden success of Washington put a different aspect on affairs. The outraged patriots flew to arms many a wronged and robbed inhabitant became at once a spy, a scout, and a soldier, and did good service in scourging these marauders back. In the meantime Washington strung cantonments from Princeton to the Highlands, connecting his army with that of Heath, whom he had urged to make a demonstration against New York, for the purpose of compelling Howe to withdraw his troops from New Jersey and concentrate them in that city. This commander after much delay at length put his troops in motion, and appearing before Fort Inde- pendence, summoned it in a pompous manner to surrender. The whole expedition, however, proved a failure, and General Heath retired without any laurels to the High- lands. Washington, having witnessed the effect of Howe's pro- clamation on the people of New Jersey, and finding that many, though wholly estranged from the British cause by the barbarities under which they had suffered, still regarded their oath as binding them at least to a strict neutrality, issued a counter-proclamation, [January 25th,] in which he commanded all persons who had received protections from British commissioners to deliver them up at once, and take in place an oath of allegiance to the United States. Thirty 226 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. days were allowed them in which to do it after that time all who refused would be treated as enemies. This was the first palpable use Washington made of his dictatorial power, and the manner in which it was received by the state authorities of New Jersey argued poorly for its working in the country at large. It was asserted that, there being no confederation of the states formed, Congress had not the power to exact such an oath, and hence could not delegate it to another that its assumption by Washington was a direct encroachment upon the prerogatives of the separate states, to which alone this power belonged. The complaints extended even to Congress, and members were found tech- nical and unpatriotic enough to take sides with New Jersey. Mr. Abraham Clark, a delegate from this very State, and one of the signers of the Declaration of Independence, opposed it in Congress, and, in a letter to Colonel Dayton, placed his objections on the grounds already mentioned, and added, " / believe the General honest but fallible." Previous to this, Washington had addressed an earnest, pressing letter to the Governor of the state, remonstrating against the raising of several battalions, as he had done, for the defense of the State alone, and not as a part of the con- tinental army. That letter, though courteous and guarded, is couched in language that could not be mistaken, and gave the Governor to understand most emphatically that the ex- traordinary powers with which he had been invested were not an idle ceremony, but would be wielded when the exigencies of his condition required it. After speaking of the superior advantages of having the drafts made for the service of the country at large instead of the single state of New Jersey, he adds, " I am sure that the necessity of hav- ing the continental regiments immediately completed is too obvious to need any further arguments. I hope the powers of government are such as to complete the new levies by draft if they cannot be filed reasonably by voluntary enlistments. Necessity LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 227 obliges me to call upon you, as I shall upon every other state, in the most pressing terms to complete, without delay, your propor- tion of the eighty-eight battalions." A call for the several quotas was also made from the other states, and Washing- ton employed the power given him, to collect and organize an army for a spring campaign. He also wrote to Congress, but this body seemed to have been suddenly exorcised of all its greatness, and much of its patriotism, and regarded his appeals apparently like petitions, which it had resolved beforehand to lay on the table. In the mode of appointing five additional major-generals, and ten brigadiers, in obe- dience to the long and urgent request of Washington, they showed how small a portion they possessed of the self-de- nying patriotism and noble devotion to the interests of their country which characterized the commander-in-chief, about whose abuse of power they had been so solicitous. When the fate of the country was involved, and the salvation of the army depended, in a great measure, upon the ability and character of the commanding officers, their appointment was brought about by political shuffling, and used to gratify personal friendship or personal ambition. Each state had its favorite candidates, and each candidate his supporters. There were exceptions to this conduct, it is true, but, in the main, Washington was not consulted, and officers were forced on him he never would have chosen. In order to apportion them properly to the diiferent states and thus gratify local jealousies, incompetent men were appointed, and in some instances made to outrank officers who had served from the outset of the war. The latter were indig- nant at this injustice, and it required all Washington's in- fluence to pacify them. The miserable and low view Congress took of its duties in this respect, resulting as it did in sowing dissensions in the army and increasing the embarrassment of Washington laid the foundation, doubtless of Arnold's after treason. 228 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. The pernicious precedent set at this time has ever since been followed, and probably will be to the end of the chap- ter. Congress, always ignorant of military matters, will thrust civilian generals on the army, just as the President dispenses offices, and political favor will carry a man to a higher grade than honorable scars. White the two armies lay in winter- quarters, negotiations were opened for an exchange of prisoners. Various offers had previously been made to effect the release of Lee, and both Washington and Congress were very anxious about his fate. Although Lee had resigned the commission which lie held in the English army before he joined that of the colonies, Howe chose to regard him as a deserter, and treated him as such, and threatened to try him by court- martial. Congress immediately retaliated by placing Col. Campbell, a British prisoner, in a common jail, and refusing to five Hessian field-officers, taken at Trenton, the usual privileges of prisoners of war. The English government fearing the effect of this treatment would be to disgust their mercenary troops with the service, relented, and allowed Lee to be regarded as a prisoner of war; and finally con- sented to his exchange. Washington opposed these retalia- tory measures as both inhuman and impolitic. " Why," he asked, " should an ineffectual attempt to relieve the dis- tresses of one brave, unfortunate man involve many more in the same calamities ?" It was bad policy, because the balance of prisoners was heavy against us, and hence, if the British commander followed our example, Americans would be by far the heaviest sufferers. Howe, to his credit be it said, did not retaliate, though it might be asserted with some show of truth that he could not, for to what more loathsome dungeons, or dreadful want and suffering, the American prisoners confined in New York could be doomed, it would be difficult to conceive. More unprovoked, useless barbarity, more cold-blooded, damning cruelty was never witnessed LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 229 amid savages. The loathsome dens into which the victims were crowded were filled with stench and vermin ; and un- clad, unfed, uncared for, they died by hundreds, while those who survived till spring, came forth from their dismal abodes looking more like skeletons emerging from their graves, than strong-limbed soldiers whose only offense had been that of fighting for their fire-sides and their homes. Of the five thousand who had been locked up in the prisons, churches and sugar-houses of New York, but few sound, healthy men ever came out. An Irish cut-throat by the name of Cunningham had charge of the " New Jail," in which most of the American officers and the eminent Whigs were confined. This miscreant jailer kept those officers of rank and gentlemen of wealth in miserable cells, or con- fined in an upper chamber, and crowded so close together that when stretched at night on the plank floor, they could not turn over except all at once, at the word "RIGHT LEFT." He had a gallows erected, apparently for his own amuse- ment, on which he almost every night hung some poor wretch. His hour for these occasional recreations was just after midnight. Howe was too lazy and too indifferent to the fate of a few rebels to make any inquiries about the condition of his prisoners; and, although he does not stand charged with personal cruelty, he was guilty of a crime closely akin to it utter indifference to whether it was prac- tised or not under his authority. He indignantly denied the charge which Washington made against him, but the facts, as afterward proved, and his statements are as wide apart as heaven and earth. So reduced had these prisoners become, that they were wholly unfit for duty, and when Howe proposed to exchange them, Washington refused to give the same number of healthy British and Hessian soldiers. Howe then accused him of violating the agreement made between them. Washington retorted in a withering letter, in which, after 230 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. declaring that an exchange of strong, healthy soldiers for sick and helpless ones would be putting a premium on in- humanity, and that an agreement to exchange prisoners was based on the principle of equality, in not recognizing which he was really the one guilty of violating the compact, he adds, " It may, perhaps, be fairly doubted whether an ap- prehension of their death, or that of a great part of them, did not contribute somewhat to their being sent out when they were. Such an event ivhilst they remained with you would have been truly interesting; because it would have destroyed every shadow of claim for a return of the prisoners in our hands ; and therefore policy concurring with humanity dic- tated that the measure should be adopted. Happy had it been if the expedient had been thought of before these ill- fated men were reduced to such extremity." He also ac- cuses him directly of treating the prisoners in his hands cruelly, and thus causing the death of large numbers. The measures proposed for an exchange of prisoners thus became embarrassed, and were not carried out until some time afterward. The balance of prisoners against the Americans after the battle of Princeton was about one thousand. The British having taken in all a little less than five thousand, and the Americans about four thousand. Spring opened without any general movement on the. part of Howe. This was fortunate for Washington, as the en- listments for the war or for three years went on slowly, and the new levies arrived tardily and at long intervals, leaving the army weak and unable to offer any effectual resistance to Howe if he had taken the field vigorously. But he too was waiting for reinforcements, and tents and field equip- ments. In April, however, he sent Governor Tryon with ten thousand men to destroy the stores at Danbury. But this officer was chased back to his ships by Arnold and Wooster ; the latter, though nearly three score and ten, gal- lantly leading on his men till shot down by the enemy. TEARING DOWN STATUE OF GEORGE LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 233 Another expedition was sent against Peekskill. These, however, were mere by plays, to occupy the troops till the time for a grand and decided movement should arrive. Meanwhile Washington waited the further development of the plans of the enemy. The troops assembling from the East he ordered to concentrate at Peekskill, while those from the Middle States and Virginia were directed to join him at Morristown. It was evident that an enterprise was on foot, designed to crush the colonies at once, but in which direction the blow was about to fall remained in obscurity. A storm was brewing on the Canadian frontier, and whether Howe was preparing to cooperate with any movement in that direction, or push his way on to Philadelphia, could only be conjectured. In the meantime, internal troubles continued to vex and embarrass the commander-in-chief even more than the con duct of the enemy. The constant reports of men deserting letters from officers all over the country, complaining of the neglect and injustice of Congress, and offering their resig- nation the want of money and a commissary-general fur- nished daily and almost hourly annoyances which he had no power to escape. To some, like Arnold, he replied in the language of friendship and sympathy, to others he wrote sternly and rebukingly. Sullivan received a severe repri- mand for his childish complaints about not being entrusted with a separate command. Gates a lighter one, for asserting that an equal distribution of tents, etc. was not made to the different sections of the army. While the different military departments were thus exhibiting only weakness, Lieut. Col. Meigs, a companion of Arnold in his bold march through the wilderness, showed what a single enterprising officer could do. Embarking on the 21st of May from New Haven, he sailed for Guilford, and there taking with him a hundred and seventy men, in whale-boats, crossed over to Southold, and dragging his boats over land to the bay be- 13 234 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. tween the north and south branches of the island, pushed on to Sag Harbor, where he arrived at two o'clock in the morning, and immediately with fixed bayonets charged the outposts of the British stationed there. The alarm was in- stantly given, and an armed schooner with twelve guns and seventy men opened its fire upon the Americans within less than thirty rods. The gallant detachment, however, pressed forward, driving the enemy before them, and having killed and captured nearly a hundred men, and destroyed twelve brigs and sloops and a large quantity of merchandise, retired without the loss of a man. Col. Meigs reached Guilford at two o'clock in the afternoon, having marched and rowed ninety miles in twenty-five hours, besides fighting the ene- my and destroying his ships and stores. At length Washington moved his army, [May 21,] four- teen thousand strong, to Middlebrook, and intrenched himself in a strong position, resolved to give battle if the enemy ad- vanced. Howe, who had collected a large force at Brunswick, only nine miles distant, [June 31,] pushed his lines into the country until his left rested on Millstone. Here he remained a week, hoping to tempt Washington from his stronghold to battle. Bat the latter having long before discovered what his raw troops were worth in an open field fight, refused to stir from his position. Howe then returned to Brunswick, evacuated it, and retreated to Amboy, pursued and harassed by General Greene, with three regiments. Washington followed with the main army to Quibbletown. The moment Howe saw that he had decoyed Washington out into the open country, wheeled, and marched swiftly to the Ameri- can left, hoping to turn it and gain the high ground beyond. Had he succeeded, a battle would have been inevitable. Washington, however, was too quick for him. The roar of cannon, and heavy explosions of small arms in that direction, as the enemy came in collision with a detachment of seven hundred Americans, revealed the well-laid scheme. k LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 235 Though severely pressed, he fell back, and reached his strong position at Middlebrook in safety. As soon as Howe saw Washington quietly in his den again, lie gave up all attempts to bring on an engagement, and, abruptly leaving the Jerseys, passed over to Staten Island. Washington, who from boyhood had shown a peculiar love of agricultural pursuits, indeed seems to have had a positive attachment to the soil, saw with pleasure the withdrawal of the troops. It pained him deeply to behold the green fields ready for the mower, filled with the marching columns, and the ripen- ing grain trampled down by the ruthless hoof of war, or wrapt in conflagration. In a letter to Armstrong, he says, " The evacuation of Jersey at this time seems to be a pecu- liar mark of Providence, as the inhabitants have an oppor- tunity of securing their harvests of hay and grain." The farmer was never forgotten in the warrior, and the husband- man always received his peculiar attention. The relief which this apparent abandonment of all im- mediate attempts against Philadelphia gave, was only momentary, for on the very next day a courier arrived in camp, bringing the astounding intelligence that Burgoyne, with ten thousand men, an artillery train of forty pieces, the whole commanded by officers of experience and renown, had crossed the St. Lawrence from Canada, and was moving against Ticonderoga. Whether Howe, under these cir- cumstances, would renew his attempts against Philadelphia, or endeavor to form a junction with Burgoyne, and thus separate the New England provinces from their brethren, was the important problem which Washington endeavored to solve. If the former course was adopted he must hover around Philadelphia ; if the latter, his army could- not be too soon in the strong passes of the Highlands. Howe was certainly collecting, a large fleet, and evidently either for the purpose of ascending the Hudson, or of going by sea to Philadelphia. At length news was brought that the British 236 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. army was embarking. Washington immediately dispatched Lord Stirling to Peekskill, while he himself, still uncertain of the enemy's purpose, slowly followed by way of Ramapo, and finally encamped in the pass of the Clove. In the meantime he ordered the two brigades of Parsons and Varnum from the east to Peekskill wrote to Governor Clinton to call out the militia, and hastened off a courier to Schuyler, who commanded in the northern department, to hold on to Ticonderoga. All eyes were suddenly turned to the northward, where the great and decisive conflict seemed about to take place. Roused by the impending danger, the settlers along the rich banks of the Mohawk, and the hardy yeomanry of Vermont and Massachusetts, and Connecticut and New York left their fields burdened with the rich pro- mise of a coming harvest, and hastened to strike hands and move shoulder to shoulder with the battle-cry of freedom on their lips, against the common invader. But while Burgoyne was slowly pushing the heads of his massive columns through the northern wilderness, the fleet of Howe hoisted sail and moved slowly down toward the Hook. The news no sooner reached Washington than he dispatched messengers to Sullivan and Stirling, at Peekskill, ordering them instantly to recross the Hudson, and hasten by the most direct routes to the banks of the Delaware, where he would wait their arrival. But though the vessels were moving seaward, he was still doubtful of Howe's de- signs, and resolved to remain where he was till he could ascertain them more fully. At length it was reported that the ships had been seen off the Capes of the Delaware. The army was then marched rapidly to Germantown, and Wash- ington hurried forward to Chester, to gather more accurate intelligence. Here he was told that the fleet had again stood to the eastward and disappeared. Baffled by this strange conduct without the least data to act on, Washing- ton was compelled to base his movements entirely on con- LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 237 jecture. It was plain that nothing could be done till the enemy's plans developed themselves more fully. He, there- fore, ordered Sullivan to take post in New Jersey, ready to move in either direction, while the main army was quar- tered at Germantown, prepared to march at a moment's warning. While things were in this harassing and trying state of suspense, Washington rode over to Philadelphia, to confer a day or two with committees of Congress. He here, for the first time, met the young Marquis of Lafayette, whose ar- dent and noble espousal of our cause eventually wrought such a change in our prospects. A mere stripling, eighteen years of age, rolling in wealth, and basking in the sunshine of court favor, he tore himself away from all the luxuries that surrounded him from the arms of a young and af- fectionate wife, whose expostulations and reproaches were harder to be borne than the threats of his friends and frowns of his king, to struggle in an almost hopeless cause, in a foreign land. Purchasing a vessel, and clothing and arms for soldiers at his own expense, he, with the brave De Kalb and eleven other officers set sail for America. After a voy- age of nearty two months, he reached Charleston, and, dis- tributing arms and clothing to a hundred and fifty of the gallant defenders of Sullivan's Island, mounted his horse and rode nine hundred miles to Philadelphia. Silas Deane had been for some time our minister at Paris, and with Franklin and Arthur Lee, who were afterward added to the embassy, was endeavoring to enlist France in our struggle. With the former young Lafayette had made an agreement respecting the rank he was to hold in the rebel army. But Congress received the letters which he presented coldly, for it had been much embarrassed of late with ap- plications of foreign officers for appointments, which, if made, would deeply offend our own officers. Only a few weeks before, Knox, Greene, and Sullivan, hearing that a 238 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. Frenchman by the name of Decoudray, had been appointed major-general, his appointment to be antedated, so as to out- rank them, abruptly sent in their resignations. Besides all other considerations Lafayette was a mere boy, only nineteen years of age, and could not be considered fit for a position of responsibility. Being told that his request would proba- bly be denied, he sat down and wrote a note to Congress, saying " After the sacrifices I have made, / have the right to exact two favors; one is to serve at my own expense, the other to serve at first as a volunteer." This magnanimity was too much for Congress, and it immediately made out his com- mission. The next day he was introduced to Washington at a dinner party. As it was about breaking up, the latter took him aside and spoke to him long and tenderly. The tall, commanding general of nearly fifty, and that youth of nineteen, presented a most interesting contrast as the one spoke of freedom, and the other stood and reverently listened, every feature beaming with excitement. There was something in the enthusiastic love for liberty of this young stranger the revelation of an exalted purpose, not to be shaken by neglect or suffering : a noble, unselfish de- votion, so unlike the petty rivalries, groundless jealousies, and selfish behavior of some of his own officers, that touched the tenderest chord of Washington's nature. His great, grand heart opened to him at once like a father, and from that hour Lafayette became a son, returning the wealth of affection lavished on him with all the devotion of his im- pulsive, impassioned, generous nature. Washington told him to consider himself at all times as one of his own family, but he must not expect to find in the republican army, the luxuries of a court, or the comforts even of an ordinary camp. Both the one and the other were indifferent to Lafayette, who had already triumphed over infinitely greater difficulties, and endured more suffering than could be meted out to him in the American army. That night he LIFE OF WASHINGTON.. 239 sent his horses and equipage to camp, and became an Ameri- can soldier. His after career in connection with our cause, and with Washington, furnishes some of the most interest- ing incidents in American history. That apparently boyish enthusiasm proved to be the solid judgment and inherent principles of the man, and as he stood in all the fiery ardor of youth before Washington, so he afterward stood with white locks amid the infuriated mobs of Paris and Ver- sailles. The impression Washington made on him may be inferred from the letter describing his first interview. In it he says " Although he was surrounded by officers and citizens, it was impossible to mistake for a moment his ma- jestic figure and deportment." His surprise, however, at the army was equal to his admiration of Washington. On the very day he arrived in camp there was a grand review of the whole eleven thousand men, and the young marquis never before even in imagination beheld such a spectacle. Many were in their shirt, sleeves many without any shirts to their backs, their whole uniform consisting of a pair of pantaloons, while the majority of those who were clad wore simply long linen hunting-shirts. These were drawn up in two long lines the smaller soldiers occupying the first line presenting a most striking contrast to the military bearing and manner of their commander. "As to their military tactics,'" he wrote home, " it will be sufficient to say that for a regiment ranged in order of battle, to move forward on the right of its line it was necessary for the left to make a con- tinued countermarch" The next day Washington took Lafayette with him to inspect the fortifications of the Dela- ware. As they rode along together, the former soon dis- covered that his young protege possessed a knowledge of military matters by which the oldest generals in the service might profit. Though Congress continued its sessions in apparent tran- quillity, the greatest excitement prevailed throughout the 240 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. city and country. Sentinels were on every high peak that overlooked the ocean, sweeping the water in every direction with glasses to detect the first appearance of the fleet, whose approach was so much dreaded. But day after day passed by, and still no tidings of it caine from the seaboard. At last the lookouts caught a glimpse of it, leagues away to the south of the capes of Delaware. Washington imme- diately inferred that its destination was south, probably Charleston. Ten days more passed by, and as nothing further was seen of it, a council of war was called, in which it w r as resolved to inarch back toward the Hudson, either to operate against Burgoyne, or, if circumstances proved fa- vorable, to attack New York. Every thing was got ready to march, when on that very morning the exciting report was brought that the fleet was already two hundred miles up the Chesapeake Bay, and standing steadily on. It was now evi- dent that Philadelphia was the object of attack, though, as Washington said, the enemy had taken a strange route to reach it. This at once relieved him from all indecision re- specting the northern army. Previous to this, not only was he annoyed beyond measure by the surrender of Ticonde- roga, the defense of which had been entrusted to St. Clair, but at the apparently resistless manner in which Burgoyne moved sooth ward. He had sent the gallant Morgan with his five hundred riflemen north, and in announcing it to Governor Clinton said he thought it would be a good plan to let the fact be pretty well circulated, as well as to ex- aggerate their numbers, for these troops were the terror of the Indians. In this, which is dated on the very day of the battle of Bennington, he speaks of Stark's intention to close on Burgoyne's rear as a most excellent plan. As things grew worse and worse, Congress recalled both Schuyler and St. Clair, and put Gates over the northern army. Wash- ington had also sent Arnold north, a host in himself. Still, so long as Howe's movements remained undeveloped he could LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 243 not call on the New England states to hasten to New York state to resist the invasion of Burgoyne. But now all im- mediate danger to the eastern board was removed, and he wrote to Putnam to press on Governor Trumbull the urgent necessity of getting the whole force of New England " to turn out, and by following the great stroke struck by General Stark near Bennington, entirely crush General Burgoyne." In the meantime the militia from Delaware, Maryland and Pennsylvania turned out, and the country was alive with armed citizens, hastening to the defense of Philadel- phia. Sullivan, who had just been rudely repulsed in an attack on Staten Island, was also ordered from the Jerseys, and the army soon assumed a formidable appearance, at least in magnitude. At length the reconnoitering parties came in and an- nounced that the enemy were landing near the head of Elk river. [Aug. 25th.] Washington advanced to meet them, and taking Philadelphia in his route, marched through the city with flying banners and martial music, cheered by the multitude. This was done to encourage the patriots and check the movements of the disaffected and disloyal. The next day after the British effected a landing a heavy rain storm set in, which deluged both friends and foes, and in- jured the arms and ammunition of each. Washington at the outset sent forward skirmishing parties to harass the enemy, while he pressed on with the main army. Between these and the advance detachments of the British severe conflicts took place, ending, of course, in the retreat of the Americans, as the heavy columns of their adversaries closed upon them. On the 28th the Americans took some forty prisoners. Twenty deserters also arrived in camp, who stated that the infantry of the enemy was in good condi- tion, but that the horses were knocked up by their long voyage. This was fortunate, as Washington's cavalry, under 244 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. Pulaski,* wag too feeble to cope with any considerable force, while the country presented an admirable field for the move- ments of horse. The next day Captain Lee took twenty-four more prison- ers. Five days after, Cornwallis, while advancing with his column, was suddenly assailed by Maxwell's regiment, the riflemen of which, having formed a sort of ambuscade, poured in a deadly fire upon him. But swept by the ar- tillery and pressed by the formidable masses of the enemy, this brave regiment was compelled to retire with the loss of forty killed and wounded. The British reported their loss to be twenty-two, though a woman from their camp next day said she saw nine wagon loads of wounded brought in. They doubtless suffered more severely than they ac- knowledged ; in fact, as a rule, it was always safe to multi- ply the current account given by the enemy of their loss by three. The two armies had continued to draw closer together, and now stood front to front, and a battle was daily expected. Philadelphia was the prize to be struggled for, and Howe and Washington both determined that the conflict should be a decisive one. The latter took position behind Red Clay Creek, directly across the route leading to the city. Howe then advanced, and being joined by General Grant, made a feint to attack the Americans, but instead of concentrating his forces at the assailing point, extended his lines far away to the American right. The two armies were now only two miles apart, and threatened momentarily to come in collision, when Howe ordered a halt. Washing- ton, whose experience during the last campaign had taught him to distrust every movement of Howe, soon discovered that a flank movement was being made to cut him off from * Previous to this there had been no officer in the cavalry of higher rank than colonel. Reed, after being made brigadier, was offered the command, but declined. It was then given to Count Pulaski, a Polish officer of great distinction and bravery. LIFE OF WASHINGTON. L. 245 Philadelphia, and hem him in on a narrow tongue of land from which escape would be impossible, and where he would be compelled under disadvantageous circumstances to fight a decisive battle. He therefore, after carefully reconnoi- tering the enemy, passed the order quietly through the camp to march, and at two o'clock in the morning of the 9th of September withdrew his army toward the Brandy- wine, and crossing the river, took possession of the high grounds on the opposite side, near Chad?s Ford. While Pennsylvania, New Jersey, Delaware and Mary- land were gazing with mingled expectations and fears on the two armies under Washington and Howe, as they slowly closed on each other, and the whole country was filled with conflicting rumors, agitating and cheering by turns, the works were rapidly going up at Saratoga, from which was to recoil the veteran army of Burgoyne. Stark had deal! him a staggering blow by his victory over Baum at Ben- nington, while Gansevoort's gallant defense of Fort Stanwix, had frustrated his plans in that direction. From every val- ley and mountain slope the sturdy yeomanry went pouring in to Gates, their patriotism kindled into brighter glow by the shouts of victory that came rolling from Vermont, and down the Mohawk from Fort Stanwix and the bloody field of Oriskany; and their rage redoubled to see the enemy with his ruthless savage allies in the very midst of their autumnal fields, and ravaging the firesides of the innocent and the helpless. Washington's anxiety for the fate of the northern army was equal to that for his own, and he listened with as deep a solicitude for the reports that might reach him thence, as he did to the thunder of the enemy's cannon in his front. In the meantime, Burgoyne finding himself cut off from the assistance of St. Leger by way of the Mo- hawk, and a dark storm-cloud gathering in his rear, extin- guishing the last hope that illumined the weary wilderness he had traversed, and seeing a mighty army rising as it 246 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. were from the very earth before him, surveyed with a stern and gloomy eye the prospect that surrounded him. The second crisis in the American Revolution had come. With the simultaneous defeat of the northern and southern armies the nation would be prostrated, and the last hope of securing the alliance of France extinguished. Two such calamities would darken the land with despair, and fill the friends of freedom every where with despondency and gloom. LIFE OP WASHINGTON. 247 CHAPTER IX. Battle of Brandywine A new account of the loss of the British, found among General Clinton's papers Washington again offers Howe battle Defeat of Wayne at Paoli Philadelphia taken Fortifications erected at Mud Bank and Red Bank Tenacity of Washington Battle of Germantown Cause of the De- feat of the Americans. ON the morning of the llth of September the American army, eleven thousand strong, lay stretched along the Bran- dywine, whose shallow bed at that time, the stream being very low, furnished frequent fording-places. Washington concentrated his main force against the most important of these, called Chads' Ford. The right wing, composed of the three brigades of Sullivan, Stirling, and Stephens, ex- tended up the river, to look out for the fords in that direction, while Armstrong with a thousand militia guarded Pyles' Ford, the only one below. At daybreak Howe put half of his force under Cornwallis, and accompanying it in person, took a road running nearly parallel with the Brandywine, a few miles inland, for the purpose of ascending the stream be- yond the farthest outposts of the American army, and cross- ing it unperceived, come down on Washington's flank. This extraordinary movement, by which an army was separated seventeen miles, a movement similar to one which, but from mere accident or treachery, would have overthrown the allies at Waterloo, here also, by a strange fatuity, was destined to be completely successful. It was a foggy morn- ing, and a dense forest darkened the bank of the stream, on the side where the British lay, almost the entire distance. About nine o'clock Knyphausen, with the other division of the army, took up his line of march directly for Chads' Ford, where Wayne commanded. The fog soon lifted and Z48 LIFE OF WASHINGTOX. rolled away, and the long lines of gleaming bayonets looked like streams of light through the forest, as in beautiful order, and to the sound of fife and drum the columns pushed their way to the river. But the woods as they pro- ceeded seemed alive with Americans, who, concealed by the thick foliage, kept up an incessant attack upon the advance parties and strewed the green uniforms thickly under the greener arcades. Maxwell, who commanded them, made such havoc with his sharp-shooters that a strong corps was sent against him, which forced him back upon the Brandy- wine. Here, met by reinforcements, he turned furiously on his pursuers, driving them before him till they closed in with the main column. Knyphausen then sent a large detachment to take Maxwell in flank, but the latter de- tecting the movement, ordered a retreat and recrossed to Wayne. Having cleared the woods of the enemy, Knyp- hausen moved forward and drew up his division on the bank and began to plant his cannon. The Americans were in high spirits, and several detachments boldly dashed into the stream, and securing a footing on the farther side, fell with loud shouts on the working parties and those detailed to guard them. Knyphausen, enraged at these constant and bold attacks, ordered forward a large force, which advancing to the charge forced the Americans to a rapid retreat. They came on a run through the water which was dashed into spray by the shower of bullets that fell around them. In the meantime Knyphausen opened a heavy cannonade on Wayne, who returned it with spirit, and to all appear- ance the main effort was to be made at this ford. The former manoeuvered his troops so as to convey the impres- sion of a much larger force than he possessed, while at the same time he was apparently making extensive preparations for an immediate assault on Wayne's battery. While Washington was watching the effect of this heavy cannon- ade, Sullivan, who had been ordered to take care of the LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 249 fords above him, received the following note from Lieu- tenant-Colonel Ross : " Great Valley Road, 11 o'clock, A. M. DEAR GENERAL, A large body of the enemy, from every account five thousand, with sixteen or eighteen field-pieces, marched along this road just now. This road leads to Tay- lor's Ferry, and Jeffrey's Ferry on the Brandywine, and to the Great Valley at the sign of the Ship, on the Lancaster Road to Philadelphia. There is also a road from the Brandy- wine to Chester, by Dilworthstown. We are close in their rear with about seventy men. Captain Simpson lay in am- bush with twenty men, and gave them three rounds within a small distance, in which two of his men were wounded, one mortally, I believe. General Howe is with this party, as Joseph Galloway is here known by the inhabitants, with whom he spoke and told them that General Howe was with him. Yours, JAMES Ross, Lieutenant -Colonel. . Here was accurate information from a responsible officer, and every road designated by him should have been secured beyond the Brandywine. Ross had seen the army, nay, fired into it, and was steadily following it in its rapid march up the river. Its destination was apparent to the most casual observer, and how, after such information, Sullivan could allow himself to be surprised by an army of five thousand men, dragging a heavy train of artillery after them baffles all explanation. "Washington immediately penetrated Howe's design, and resolved to defeat it by sending Sullivan to occupy him, while he, with the rest of the army, would cross over, and falling on Knyphausen in rear and front at the same time, crush him before the other division could arrive. This daring resolution was the inspiration of true genius, and had it been carried into effect, Brandywine would doubtles have been another Saratoga to the British. He issued his orders 250 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. at once, and riding along the lines to animate the troops, was received with loud huzzas; and "long live Washington," rolled over the field. General Greene was ordered to lead the advance, and crossing above Knyphausen assail him in flank and rear. In a few minutes the field was alive with the marching columns. At this critical moment another aid came galloping in from Sullivan, who reported no ene- my around the forks of the Brandy wine. This was a fatal mistake, and Washington immediately reversed his orders, and the army again took up its former position. It was now high noon, and Knyphausen having received dispatches from Cornwallis announcing that the river was won, opened on the Americans with a tremendous discharge of artillery and musketry, so as still more to confirm the delusion under which he saw Washington was evidently laboring. In the meantime Cornwallis had formed his troops on the banks of the stream, and was coming rapidly down on Sullivan's flank. A Squire Cheney, reconnoitering on his own responsibility the movements of the enemy, suddenly came upon the ad- vance as he was ascending a hill. He immediately wheeled his horse, a fleet, high-spirited animal, and dashed away to- ward head-quarters. Shots were fired at him, but he escaped and reached the American army in safety. To his startling declaration that the main body of the enemy was on his own side of the stream, and coming rapidly down upon him, Washington replied that it was impossible, for he had just received contrary information. " You are mistaken Gen- eral, my life for it you are mistaken," exclaimed Cheney, and carried away by the great peril that threatened the Ameri- cans, added, " By h 11 it is so ; put me under guard until you find my story true," and, stooping down, he drew a rough draft of the road in the sand. In a few moments a hurried note from Sullivan confirmed the disastrous tidings. The enemy were only two miles from the Birmingham WASHINGTON ENDEAVORING TO RALLY THE FUGITIVES LIFE OP WASHINGTON. 253 Meeting-House, which was but three miles from Chads' Ford. Washington saw at once the fatal error into which he had been beguiled by the false information of Sullivan, and saw, too, that in all human probability the day was lost. Suddenly calling to his side his aids, he asked if there was any one near acquainted with the country, who could guide him by the shortest route to Birmingham Meeting-House. An elderly man named Brown, living in the vicinity, was instantly seized and asked to act as guide. He began to make excuses, when one of Washington's aids, mounted on a splendid charger, leaped to the ground and told the old man to mount at once, and conduct the General by the shortest, quickest route to the meeting-house, or he would run him through with his sword. Alarmed by the threat, Brown mounted and pushed straight across the country, his high-bred animal taking the fences in his course like a hunter. Washington with his suite pressed after, and though the old man seemed to fly over the fields and fences, the head of Washington's horse constantly lapped the flank of the animal he rode, and there rung continually in his ears from the excited, anxious chieftain by his side, " Push along old man ; push along old man." The fate of his army was trembling in the balance, and no fleetnees could equal his burning impatience to be at the point where it was so soon to be decided, for already the loud roar of cannon and rattle of musketry ahead, told him that the shock had come. The tremendous cannonading at Chads' Ford, blending in with that around Birmingham Meeting-House, needed no additional confirmation of the deep disaster that had over- taken him. As he approached the scene of conflict the balls fell so thick around him that the old man stole away. His absence was unnoticed, for his services were no longer needed ; the roar of battle and shouts of men were a suffi- cient guide. When Washington first set out he had ordered Greene to advance with his division, as fast as possible, to 14 254 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. the support of Sullivan. The latter with two brigades im- mediately pushed forward. The brigade under Weadon led off, and starting on a trot, with trailed arms, made the four miles that intervened between them and the enemy in the astonishingly short time of forty minutes. Not a sound was heard from this noble brigade save the clatter of their arms and panting of the men as shoulder to shoulder they swept like cavalry to the rescue of their companions. Sullivan had been completely taken by surprise, but with his accustomed bravery strove to remedy the error that had been committed. Rapidly advancing to a gentle slope near the meeting-house, he formed his line in an open space, each extremity resting on thick woods. But in executing a manoeuvre designed to thwart a French General Deborre, who insisted on occupying the right of the line contrary 'to his orders, his brigade did not arrive on the field in time to get fully into position before the action commenced. Howe on his huge raw-boned horse, Cornwallis glittering in scar- let and gold, together with other officers, sat grouped on Osborne Hill, and watched with unfeigned surprise the beau- tiful, regular formation of the American line. The battle was commenced by an advance company of Hessians, who crossed the road, and resting their pieces on the fence fired at a small body of Americans in an adjoin- ing orchard. Soon the field was piled with baggage, blan- kets, etc., thrown aside under the oppressive heat, and the troops went pouring forward to the conflict. The artillery opened, and the contest became close and murderous. The American troops, though most of them were undisciplined militia, behaved with astonishing coolness. From their steady, deliberate volleys the disciplined ranks of the enemy recoiled in amazement. The chasseurs came charging down the slope with clattering armor and to the sound of trum- pets, but could not break the firm formation. Grenadiers and guards were each and all hurled back, but the over- LIFE OP WASHINGTON. 255 whelming numbers continued to pour forward, bearing down by mere weight alone the American ranks, till at last they began to shake and undulate over the field. Sullivan, who had seen two of his aids fall by his side, galloped along the disordered line, and strove by word and gesture to animate the soldiers to another effort. But his example and appeals were alike in vain. First the right and then the left wing broke and fled toward Chads' Ford. Finding his troops could not be rallied, he then separated from them, and threw himself into a part of Stirling's division, in the cen- tre, which still heroically maintained its ground. Here was also the youthful Lafayette, kindling by voice and gesture the enthusiasm of the men. Dismounting from his horse he passed through the ranks exposing himself like a com- mon soldier, when a musket ball pierced his leg. Corn- wallis seeing with what stubborn resolution this band of eight hundred men maintained their ground, ordered his ar- tillery to be concentrated upon them. The effect was instan- taneous, and the troops, scourged into madness by the close, deadly fire, fled to the woods for protection. Washington, in the meantime, had ordered Greene to take possession of Dilworth's Pass, and hold it against the enemy. He did so, and as the fugitive Americans came on he would open his ranks and let them flow to the rear, then close again and present a firm front to the enemy. The heavy conflict at Birmingham Meeting-House, and the sudden departure of Greene's division, was the signal for Knyphausen to advance. The head of his column en- tered the stream under the protection of the heavy batteries, and though severely shaken by Wayne's artillery, pressed firmly forward. The American force was too small to resist half the whole British army for any length of time, and though Wayne bore up nobly against the unequal numbers for awhile, he saw, after Sullivan's defeat, that a retreat was inevitable. This, however, was hastened, in fact became a 256 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. flight, at the appearance of a large body of the enemy emerging from the woods above him, and hastening along the banks of the Brandy wine, to take him in flank and rear. Leaving behind all their stores and artillery, the broken and disordered columns helped to swell still more the tumultu- ous torrent that rolled on. Greene, however, firmly main- tained his position amid the turbulence and uproar of the pursuit and the flight, and unshaken alike by the wreck that tossed around him, and the assaults of the victorious and confident enemy, saved the army from destruction. Behind him, as an impregnable rampart, the defeated but not dis- heartened troops rallied and demanded to be led again to the attack. Muhlenburg and Weadon with their two bri- gades fought nobly to defend this pass. The latter was formerly an innkeeper in Virginia the former a clergyman of the established church in the same state. The martial spirit of the divine kindling at the wrongs heaped upon his country, he preached his farewell sermon to his people, saying at the close that there was a time to fight as well as to pray, and that time had come. He. had been pre- viously elected colonel, and now taking off his gown and putting on his regimentals he walked amid his congregation, and ordered the drum to beat for recruits at the church-door, and before night had three hundred men at his back. He did good service in the south, and here at the Pass of Dil- worth, covered his brigade with glory. During the battle and the flight Washington had been everywhere present, directing and guiding all things. Night was now drawing on, and many of the officers enraged at the result of the day's action, demanded to be led against the enemy. " You must obey my orders," said Washington. " Our only re- source is to retreat." Greene, whose blood was up from the conflict and defeat, asked how far they must retreat. " Over every hill and across every river in America if I order you," was the stern reply. LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 257 As night came on the firing ceased, and the American army retreated in confusion toward Chester. The roads leading thither were crowded with men, some marching with the order and discipline becoming troops, others rush- ing blindly on through the gloom, haunted by the fear of pursuit. The British encamped on the field of victory, which was thickly strewn with friends and foes. But along the slope w r here Stirling fought the dead lay thickest. There is no battle recorded in our history respecting which there has been such a diversity of opinion as that of Bran- dy wine. Washington made no report of it to Congress, and without any data but the verbal statements of those who could give only conjectures, the historian has been unable to come to any definite results. The British force has been variously estimated at from eleven to seventeen thousand. Their loss, as stated by Howe, and universally conceded by Sparks and others, was only some six or seven hundred, while that of the Americans ranged from one thousand to fourteen hundred men. These figures have always appeared to me incorrect, for several reasons. In the first place, it was evident that the two main divisions of the enemy averaged but from four to five thousand each, so that eleven instead of seventeen or eighteen thousand composed their actual force in the field. In the second place, their loss seemed wholly at variance with the ac- counts of the battle itself. It is generally conceded that Maxwell's skirmishing parties killed and wounded three hundred out of Knyphausen's division alone, before it reached the Brandywine. That Stirling, who fought like a lion, and Greene, with his two gallant brigades, and Wayne, who kept up a heavy cannonade for five or six hours, should all together have killed and wounded only three hundred more, is evidently absurd. Still, following our best authori- ties, I have heretofore adopted their statements. But lately I have fallen on a document which shows these statements 258 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. to be wholly erroneous, and makes the facts more consistent with reason. It was found among General James Clinton's papers, carefully filed away and endorsed by himself. On the back, in his own hand writing, is inscribed " Taken from the enemy's Ledgers, which fell into the hands of General Washington's army at the action of Germantown" Within is the following statement : State of the British troops and position they were in when they made the attack at Brandywine, the llth September, 1777. The Upper Ford, under the command of Lt. Lord Cornwallis. 2d Regiment British Guards, ) 174Q 612 kflled and wounded< * 2d " Light Infantry, ) 2d Brigade British Foot, 2240 360 " 1st Division Hessians, 800 70 " " Ferguson's Riflemen, 80 46 " " Total, 4860 1088 " Middle Ford, under the command of Major-General Gray. 2d Battalion Guards, 500 2d " 2d Highlanders, 700 2d 70th 700 Total, 1900 Lower Ford, under command of Lt. General Knyphausen. 2d Brigade, consisting of the \ 4th, 5th,10th, 15th, 23d, 27th, [ 2240 580 killed and wounded. 28th, 40th, 44th, 55th Reg'ts. ) Hessians to the amount of 800 28 " Queen's Rangers, 480 290 " " Total, 3520 898 1900 4860 1088 yf~ The whole British force, 10,280 1986 killed and wounded. 1,986 8,294 The estimate of the total force which the British had on the field, makes the two armies actually engaged about equal. The heavy loss here given seems at first sight al- most incredible, and puts an entirely different aspect on the * Where Lord Stirling's division fought. LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 259 battle. Of the authenticity and accuracy of this document I think there can be no doubt. In the first place, General Clinton is known to have been one of the most careful and accurate men with his papers in the army, and he would not have endorsed and filed away a document, the state- ments of which were not well authenticated. In the second place, the document itself bears the strongest prima facie evidence of its truth. Mere tables of figures without note or comment are not apt to be fabrications. The registry as given above could be nothing but a plain business paper. In the third place, the loss corresponds more with the length and severity of the battle, while all the details are complete, even to the numbers of the regiments, battalions, etc. The division under Gray was not in the battle, and hence suffered no loss. The terrible manner in which tho Queen's Rangers were cut up, losing nearly three hundred out of four' hundred and eighty, is explained by the fact that they were the troops sent against Maxwell in the woods, where they received that severe drubbing mentioned in the former part of the chapter. It is a little singular that the loss of Knyphausen in the woods before reaching the Bran- dywine should correspond so completely with the account of Maxwell. So of Ferguson's riflemen, more than half, according to this statement, were killed or wounded, show- ing what we all know to be true, that whenever it came to specific warfare, the picking off men in detail, the enemy always suffered severely. In the last place, it explains Howe's caution after the battle. He was evidently afraid to meet Washington in open conflict, and refused again and again to accept the battle which the latter endeavored to force upon him. The fierce and desperate manner with which the Americans fought after they had been com- pletely outmanoeuvred especially the firmness shown by the militia against the heavy onsets of the British infantry, made him afraid to risk another engagement, unless he had 260 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. clearly the advantage of position. The French officers in Stirling's division, with the exception of Deborre, by their bravery and exhortations did noble service, and the untrained troops were held to the fire with a steadiness that had not before been exhibited in the open field. The difference between a loss of six hundred and two thousand is certainly very great, but it must be remembered that Howe was in the heart of the enemy's country, and it was clearly his policy, nay, it was necessary to his safety, to make that loss appear as inconsiderable as possible. Washington has been criticised for fighting this battle, but the result instead of proving that he erred in judgment, seerns to me to show that his plans were sound and judicious. It certainly never could have entered into any one's calcu- lations that an army of five thousand men could march some twenty or more miles, and in broad daylight approach within two miles of Sullivan, and coolly halt and eat their dinner, without being discovered. How Sullivan could have allowed the story of a major, as is stated, who declared he had been along the upper fords and could see no enemy, to overbalance the official declara- tion of lieutenant-colonel Ross, that he was actually follow- ing them toward the upper fords of the Brandy wine, is utterly incomprehensible. I know that he was deficient in light-horse with which to scour the country, but after the dispatch of Ross, the few roads that led to his flank should have been constantly traversed for at least ten miles, even if his own staff were 'compelled to perform the service. Encamped in the open field, with a report in his hand stating that Cornwallis was far above him, he allowed himself to be surprised by a large army with a heavy train of artillery, and attacked before he could fairly get in position. Whether Sullivan be blameworthy or not, one thing is clear, such errors on the part of commanders of divisions will baffle /.'""'// .. , j ,/. .if'l lift ,1/1 QUAKER LADT D E T JII N I N G THE ENGLISH GEKEIIAL, LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 263 the wisest laid plans of a commander-in-chief, and make every battle a defeat. Had the troops fought on a fair field as they did on this ruinous one, Washington would have stopped Howe's ad- vance; and had he acted on the first information and crossed the Brandywine and attacked Knyphausen, he would, in all probability, have completely ruined him. As it was, the gallant manner in which the greater part of the army behaved, elated him almost as much as a victory would have done. Congress also, instead of being disheartened, took courage, and immediately dispatched an order to General Putnam, in the Highlands, to send on with all possible dis- patch fifteen hundred continentals, while the militia from the surrounding states were summoned to the field. Fore- seeing that in all probability Philadelphia would fall into the hands of the enemy, it invested Washington with ex- traordinary powers, to be used in case of its absence. He was authorized to suspend officers for ill-conduct and ap- point new ones, to forage the country for seventy miles around for provisions and other articles necessary to the ' army, and remove and secure all goods which might benefit the enemy. Undaunted by the repulse he had met with at Brandy- wine, Washington, who the day after the battle had retreated to Germantown, allowed his troops but a single day to rest, when he recrossed the Schuylkill, and marched back to meet Howe, and give him battle. His troops, though suffering from long exposure, without sufficient clothing, a thousand of them being barefooted, pressed cheerfully forward. The latter had scarcely left Brandywine, when he was told that the enemy was seeking him on the very field of his victory. Grant and Cornwallis pushed forward in the direction of Chester, while Howe, with the main body, advanced toward the Lancaster Road leading to Philadelphia. On arriving at Goshen, twenty miles from the city, the latter was told 264 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. that Washington was only five miles distant, marching up to give him battle. He immediately took position on a hill, and in a short time the heads of Washington's columns appeared in view. The latter continued steadily to advance, directing his course against the left wing of the enemy, and soon the sharp firing of the skirmishing parties began to ring over the field. It was a dark and sombre afternoon, and the overcast heavens every moment grew more threaten- ing. Washington knowing what ruinous work a heavy rain would make with the ammunition of his troops, cast an anxious look at the clouds, but still pressed forward. Offi- cers were seen hurrying over the field, the artillery was brought forward, and the attacking columns were already in motion when the long pent-up clouds opened, and a deluge of rain descended, flooding the field and drenching both armies. It was one of those blinding, pelting rains, to which both animals and man succumb, and its effect on the army was like the sudden order to halt. The weary troops soaked to their skins endeavored in vain to protect their ammunition. The water penetrated everywhere. The powder was soon wet, and the fire-locks rendered useless. The British army was in no better condition, for, without a tent to cover them, they had been exposed to the same storm. The rain con- tinued all night, and a sorry night it was to the shivering army, as it crouched in the open field, supperless and weary. In the morning Washington ordered a retreat. He first retired to Yellow Springs, and finally recrossed the Schuyl- kill, resolved as soon as he could get his arms and ammuni- tion in order, again to cross Howe's path, and fall on him with his suffering but valorous little army. In the meantime, however, he ordered Wayne, with fif- teen hundred men, to hang on the skirts of the British, and, if possible, cut off" their baggage. This officer, making a circuitous march,, took, on the night of the 20th, an ex- cellent position, two miles from the Paoli Tavern, and three LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 265 miles from the British encampment. Howe, informed by spies of Wayne's proximity, resolved to surprise him. The latter, however, received information of the design, and though hardly believing the report, doubled his pickets and patrols, and ordered his men to sleep on their arms with their ammunition beneath their coats. It was a dark and rainy night, and every thing remained quiet till about eleven o'clock, when the rapid firing of the pickets announced the enemy close at hand. Wayne immediately ordered a retreat, but, before it could be effected, the British rushed with loud shouts upon him, crying, " No quarter." They swept the encampment like a whirlwind, chasing Wayne into the dark- ness, and strewing the ground with a hundred and fifty men. As the attack was expected, its complete ' success caused many to blame Wayne severely. But he declared that the disaster was owing to the delay of Colonel Hampton to obey his orders to wheel the line and move off, while he covered the retreat. Another explanation, and a very probable one is, that Wayne thoughtlessly encamped amid his fires, in- stead of away from them, thus lighting the enemy to the assault, and showing them exactly where to strike. At all events it was a bad affair, and rendered still worse by the preceding misfortunes. Howe, instead of pushing on to Philadelphia, wheeled off toward Reading, apparently to gain Washington's flank, and at the same time destroy the military stores deposited in the latter place. Washington immediately moved in the same direction. But the whole country so swarmed with Tories that he could gain no reliable information of Howe's movements till next morning, when he discovered that his enemy had turned back again and crossed the fords below. A forced inarch to overtake him was now quite impossible, especially with a barefoot army, and Philadelphia fell. Congress, in anticipation of the catastrophe, had adjourned to Lancaster, whence it removed to Yorktown. The public 266 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. archives and magazines had been previously secured, and the ships at the wharves carried up the Delaware. On the 26th of September, Lord Cornwallis, in brilliant uniform, rode into the city at the head of a detachment of British and Hessian grenadiers, welcomed with loud greetings by the Tories, and received with congratulations by the disloyal Quakers, who remained behind to receive him. Three days after this triumphal entry the first battle of Still water was fought. The main part of the British army did not advance into the place, but encamped at Germantown, eight miles distant. Washington, chafing like a foiled lion, slowly followed after, and pitched his camp at Skippack Creek, only fourteen miles distant, where he narrowly watched every movement of the enemy. In the meantime the British fleet came up Delaware Bay with the intention of communicating with the land forces around Philadelphia. Anticipating this movement, Washington had directed fortifications to be built, and obstructions sunk in the channel, the whole de- fended by forty galleys and half galleys, five rafts, fourteen fire-ships, and other vessels. The chief batteries were at Mud Bank, a low island, and at Red Bank on the Jersey shore, opposite. In order to assist his brother in the at- tempt to break through these formidable barriers, Howe sent off two regiments to attack a fort at. Billing's Point. Washington, finding the British army thus weakened, while his own had been reinforced by the arrival of troops from the north, and the Maryland militia, resolved to fall upon Germantown, and, if possible, carry it by assault. The marvelous tenacity \\ith which Washington clung to an object that he had set his heart upon, and the energy, almost fierceness, with which he pressed toward it, were never more strikingly exhibited than in these repeated at- tacks on the British army. Chased from the Jerseys, he took post behind the Brandywine, and though defeated by LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 267 a blunder which no foresight of his could have guarded against, left nearly two thousand of the enemy on the field. Giving his tattered, unshod army but one day's rest, he boldly turned on his heel, and marched back to assail his victorious enemy. Again disappointed and thwarted by the interposition of heaven, he was compelled reluctantly to re- treat. Still unyielding, he turned hither and thither to meet his antagonist and dispute with him for Philadelphia. De- ceived and misled by the Tory inhabitants, he was compelled to see the object of so much solicitude and toil fall into the hands of the enemy, while the fugitive Congress and crowds of men and women escaping over the country gave additional keenness to the mortification and disappointment under which he suffered. Notwithstanding all this, and the impoverished state of his army, he now determined with his undisciplined troops to attack the enemy in his camp, and sweep him with one terrible blow into the Schuylkill. The British encampment at Germantown lay along the Schuylkill, passing directly through the place. The left wing, between the town and river, was covered in front by the mounted and dismounted chasseurs the centre, in the town, by a regiment and battalion of infantry stationed three-quarters of a mile in advance, while the right, ex- tending beyond the town into the country, was protected by the Queen's American Rangers, and a battalion of light infantry. This was the position of the British army on the night of the 3d of October, and the watch-fires burned cheerfully along the lines, and the sentinels walked their weary rounds, little dreaming of the storm that was about to burst upon them. Washington's plan was a complicated one for a night attack, but if successful at all would be completely so, and result not merely in the defeat but utter overthrow, and probable capture of the British army. He resolved to divide his army into four portions, and entering the town at four different points, attack the enemy in front, flank and 268 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. rear, at the same time, and thus throw them* into disorder, and force them back on the Schuylkill. Greene and Ste- phens, with their brigades were selected to attack the British right wing, while the Maryland and Jersey militia, under Smallwood and Foreman, were to take a road nearly parallel to the one along which this division moved, a little further to the left, so as to fall on the wing in flank. Armstrong, with the Pennsylvania militia, was to keep along the river shore, attack the British left, and, forcing it back, get to the rear ; while Sullivan and Wayne, flanked by Conway's bri- gade, and accompanied by Washington in person, should move straight on the centre. The plan of attack being thus arranged, the columns took up their line of march at 7 o'clock in the evening, and moved rapidly forward. It was a clear, autumnal night, and the dark mass went hurry- ing along the highway, now passing open fields, and again lost in the deep shadows of the forest, their heavy tread and roll of artillery carriages being the only sounds that dis- turbed the stillness of the scene The inmates of the farm- houses along the road, roused from their slumbers by the continuous and muffled tread of the heavy columns, gazed forth with alarm as the long array swept past. German- town lay fourteen miles distant, and Washington hoped to make his. attack by daylight. But as the head of the division rose over Chestnut Hill, that looked down on Ger- mantown, day was already broadening in the east. Here the columns appointed to attack the centre broke off, and began to move to their respective destinations. As Wash- ington with his staff rode down the hill the sun rose over the eastern horizon, lighting up into momentary beauty the quiet valley beneath, while the morning gun of the British broke dull and heavy on the ear. In a few minutes a thick fog rising from the Schuylkill shut everthing from view, and almost at the same moment was heard the firing of Sul- livan's advance as it came upon the enemy's picket at Mount LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 269 Airey. The sudden cry of " to arms," the shrill blast of the bugle and roll of drums showed that Washington had pounced upon them unawares. The pickets being re- inforced, made a stand, till Sullivan, with the main body, advancing, drove them back. He then left the road and began to cross the fields. But being compelled to fling down every fence as he advanced, which also furnished a rallying point to the enemy, his progress was slow. He, however, kept steadily on, and at length came up with the left wing of the enemy, drawn up in order of bat- tle, and a close and murderous conflict commenced. Wash- ington all this time was moving along the main road with the rear of the army. Hearing the heavy firing in advance, he knew that Sullivan was warmly engaged. As it con- tinued without any cessation, he became anxious, for he knew that the troops had only about fifty rounds of ammuni- tion, and turning to Colonel Pickering, he exclaimed, " I am afraid General Sullivan is throwing away his ammunition ; ride forward and tell him to preserve it." Pickering dashed off on a gallop, and delivered his message. " Shoulder arms" passed along the American line " Forward, march" followed, and the whole line, with shouldered pieces, moved steadily up to the enemy, who, struck with astonishment, recoiled. Wayne, with his division, kept on his terrible way, bearing down all opposition." The fog was so thick that the opposing lines could not see each other till within a few rods, and hence fired at each other's volleys, and charged where the last blaze was seen. Wayne, carried away by his eagerness and daring, was riding gallantly at the head of his column when he was struck in the foot by a ball a second grazed his hand, a third and fourth pierced his horse, and he sunk to the earth. Springing to his feet, he shouted, " Forward" and sweeping the field before him, carried confusion into the whole British army, so that it threatened momentarily to break and fly. But Colonel 270 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. Musgrave, commanding the British centre, threw himself with a body of men into a large stone building, called Chew's house, and having barricaded the lower story, opened a de- structive fire of musketry from the upper windows. Here, while the battle was roaring further and further away in the gloom, Washington, with several of his officers, halted to consult on the best course to be pursued. Grouped together in front of an old stone building that loomed dimly through the mist, they let the precious mo- ments pass, while they discussed the propriety of pushing on without first reducing Chew's house. Knox loudly insist- ed on halting the army till the house could be summoned to surrender. The younger officers opposed this course as ruin- ous. "It is unmilitary," exclaimed Knox, " to leave a castle in our rear." " What," replied Hamilton and Reed, "call this a castle, and lose the happy moment !" Hamilton and Lee and Pickering earnestly, almost fiercely insisted on pushing rapidly forward. " Leave a regiment here," said they, " to take care of them, and this will be all-sufficient." Knox, however, whose opinion had great weight with Washing- ton, prevailed, and Lieutenant Smith, of Virginia, was sent forward with a flag. The enemy paid no attention to it, but continued to fire, and Smith, struck down by a musket- ball, was borne, mortally wounded, to the rear. A brisk cannonade was then opened on the building, but the pieces being only six pounders, they could produce no effect. Wayne's division, which till this moment had carried every- thing before it, hearing the heavy firing in the rear, sup- posed very naturally that they had been cut off by the ene- my, and immediately fell back. This uncovered Sullivan s left, that was pressing on nearly abreast. The British, who had begun to look about for a safe retreat, no sooner saw themselves relieved from the presence of Wayne's division, than they wheeled on the flank of Sullivan's. About this time also, the distant firing of Greene, which had been WASHINGTON AND CAPTAIN FOREST INQUIRING FOR THE HESSIAN PICKET LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 273 very heavy and constant, suddenly ceased, for want of am- munition. Being compelled to countermarch his division, as he found the enemy so differently posted from what he had been told, he was unable to commence his attack till long after the appointed time. Armstrong had come in sight of the enemy and halted, apparently engrossed in listening to the tremendous explosions that burst on every side from the dense fog. Still a portion of Sullivan's left wing kept on through the forsaken encampments, and past the deserted tents, driving the enemy for two miles before them, and finally drew up within some six hundred yards of a large body rapidly forming in a lane, though scarcely visible from the dense fog. Colonel Matthews, from Greene's division, here got entangled amid the houses, and before he could escape was attacked on three sides at once, by three times his number. Thus encompassed, he stood and fought like a lion, charging at the head of his troops with a des- peration and valor that , astonished friends and foes, till nearly his whole command was killed or wounded, when he and a hundred men surrendered themselves prisoners. This, together with the failure of ammunition, completed the disaster the cry arose on all sides that the enemy was sur- rounding them, and the whole army recoiled in disorder to Chew's house, and past it. The assailed at once became the assailants, and charging on the broken ranks with loud shouts, drove them back over the dead and dying. The scene now became one of indescribable confusion. Officers galloped around the broken squads, in the vain effort to rally them, while Washington, fully aroused to the extent of the danger which threatened him, spurred among the fugitives, and by his personal daring, and apparently reckless exposure of life, held a. portion of the troops to the shock. His voice sounded over the din of battle, and his form glanced like a meteor through the smoke and fog that en- veloped the field. Catching a glimpse of him sitting in the 15 274 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. very blaze of the enemy's volleys, Sullivan, who had just seen two aids fall by his side, forgetful of his own danger, rode up to him and begged him not to remain in such an ex- posed position, for the salvation of the army and country depended on his life. Washington wheeled away for a mo- ment, but Sullivan, on looking back again, saw him riding as before, where the shot fell thickest. But the day was irrevocably lost defeat had come in the very hour of victory, and the shout of triumph died away in the cry of fear. Such a sudden reverse, so unexpected an overthrow i'rom the very height of success, was almost too much for Washington's firmness, and he expressed more chagrin and disappointment than at the result of any battle he ever fought. Discomfited, weary, though not dispirited, the army, weakened in killed, w r ounded and missing, by neaily a thousand men, retreated for twenty miles into the coun- try, and finally reached their old camp in safety. When the separate divisions compared notes, all felt that they had lost a battle already gained been beaten after they had conquered, and were now compelled to report a defeat in- stead of a glorious victory. Several valuable officers were slain, and among them General Nash. Most of the officers behaved nobly there were, however, some few exceptions, and among them General Stephens, who reeled in his saddle from drunkenness as he led his men into action. He was consequently struck from the army, and his command given to Lafayette. Cornwall!*), in Philadelphia, eight miles dis- tant, was startled at an early hour by the arrival of an offi- cer, announcing the attack on the camp at Germantown. Summoning a corps of cavalry and the grenadiers, he hastened thither. But the battle was over, and the day of his humiliation postponed. There has been a vast deal written about this battle, and the contradictory accounts growing out of the state of the atmosphere, the utter impossibility of one division to LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 275 judge what another was doing, and the various causes that in different localities conspired to produce the same result will always involve it in more or less uncertainty. Wash- ington ascribes his failure principally to the fog ; another to the failure of the ammunition ; a third to the neglect of Armstrong, and the delay of the militia under Smallwood and Forman on the left, which never came into action at all, thus breaking up the unity and efficiency of the com- bined movement. All these, doubtless, had their effect. Night attacks are always subject to many contingencies, es- pecially if they are crippled by complicated movements. Different points cannot be reached at the specified and de- sirable moment. Unexpected obstacles will arise ; delays not anticipated become unavoidable, and mistakes not only as to positions, but also as to the friendly or hostile charac- ter of troops concentrated in the darkness, very probable, and the firing in different quarters wrongly interpreted. The dense fog made this in reality a night attack, and hence subject to all the casualties of one. As a primary cause, therefore, not anticipated by Washington, he very naturally, and might very truly, regard it the true one. Had the morning been clear the result would, doubtless, have been different. But it must be. remem- bered that the very fog which confused the Americans, confused still more the enemy. The former knew perfectly well what they were about, while the latter were wholly ignorant of the number of their assailants, or where the weight of the attack was to fall. After going over all the different authorities, the great mistake, it seems to me, lay in halting at. Chew's house. Had the advice of Pickering, Lee, Hamilton, and others been taken, and a regiment left to occupy those in the building, should they attempt to make a sally, all the other casualties would have effected nothing in the general result. Howe's army would have been destroyed, and this calamity, followed so rapidly by 276 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. the capture of Burgoyne at Saratoga, finished the war with a clap of thunder. An unexpected heavy firing in the rear of an army, while the commander-in-chief is absent, will always prove disas- trous. It was clear as noonday that the inmates of Chew's house, finding themselves watched by a regiment with ar- tillery, would never have dared to sally forth on the rear of a victorious army, and the Battle of Germantown was lost by the very conduct which constitutes a martinet. Knox was the only general officer in the consultation held upon the building, and it was natural that Washington, who had, and justly, a high opinion of his military skill, should place more confidence in his judgment that in that of his young aids. But in battle, rules should never arrest fortune, or be used to stem the current of events, when setting favorably. Impulse in the heat and excitement of close conflict is often wiser than the sagest experience. At all events in this case it was. applying a general rule where it did not belong, and arresting the whole practical action of a battle by a mere technicality ; and although Washington attributes the failure to Providence, Providence will always be found against such bad management as that halt at Chew's house most indubi- tably was. Knox and Providence are by no means one and the same, and had the opinion of the general been less scientific and more practical, the course of Providence would have taken a far different, and more satisfactory direction. Not that I would intimate that Providence does not overrule all our actions and bring about the best results in the end. I mean simply to say what no man doubts, that blunders, bad management, and unwise conduct, Providence generally allows to work mischief to those who are guilty of them. It is not a difficult matter now, when every thing is under- stood, to fix the turning point of the battle, or to locate the blame, but it is quite another thing to say how great, under all the circumstances, that blame was. Finding his entire LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 277 army enshrouded in a dense fog ; knowing by the heavy and constant firing that the troops were nearly out of am- munition, and fearing to get entangled in a net- work of just such houses as that of Chew's, Washington may have well hesitated about advancing, unless he could make a clean sweep as he went. But so far as the regarding of this single house as a fort or castle, it is palpable as noon-day that the junior officers were right, and Knox totally, fatally wrong. The whole upper part of the building would scarcely hold a regiment, while not a hundred men could fire to advantage from it at a time. After the field in front had been swept, a flag sent to it would not have been fired on, and a valuable officer lost his life. Still, though cha- grined, the troops were not dispirited. They had attacked the veterans of England, and enjoyed the pleasure of chasing them in affright from their own encampment. Neither did Congress mourn over the defeat. Almost a victory was rather a subject of congratulation, for it gave confidence to the troops and lessened their fear of the enemy. The British confessed it was the severest handling they had yet received, and although Howe, as usual, made his loss but trifli.ig, it evidently amounted to about eight hundred men. Mr. Sparks thinks that this battle had nearly as much to do in fixing the wavering determination of France, respect- ing the recognition of our independence, as the capture of Burgoyne, remarking that Count De Vergennes said to one of our commissioners in Paris, "that nothing struck him so much as General Washington attacking and giving battle to General Howe's army ; that to bring an army raised within a year to this, promised everything." This may have had its weight in the French Councils, but such a re- mark was doubtless more complimentary than serious, for one cannot imagine what an army is raised for, except to attack the enemy, and that, too, within less than a year. 278 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. CHAPTER X. Fall of Burgoyne Sermon of Timothy Dvvight Letter from Washington to Howe Attack on Fort Mercer, and Death of Count Donop Gallant Defense and Fall of Fort Mifflin Fall of Fort Mercer March of Howe against Wash- ington, and Address of the latter to his Troops The Conway Cabal and Fate of the head Conspirators Valley Forge Sufferings of the Soldiers Washing- ton at Prayer Labors of Washington, and Inefficiency of Congress The Half- Pay Establishment Washington's Answer to the Complaint that he did not make a Winter Campaign News of the Alliance of France Celebration of it in Valley Forge Baron Steuben and the Effects of his Discipline on the Army Howe resolves to Evacuate Philadelphia Council of War in American Camp on the best course to adopt. FOUR days after the failure at Germantown, the second battle of Saratoga was fought, and Burgoyne, now com- pletely hemmed in, turned, as a last resource, to Sir Henry Clinton, who was endeavoring to force his way up the Hud- son to his rescue. The latter had succeeded in taking both forts Montgomery and Clinton, though bravely defended by Generals James, and George Clinton. His effort, however, came too late. For six days Burgoyne gloomily bore up against the decree which he knew was written against him. But his unrelenting foes day by day gathered closer and darker around him. They pitched their balls into his un- covered camp-, and from every height played with their artillery on his dispirited columns. Through the hall of council, where his officers were moodily assembled, through the very apartment where he sat at dinner, cannon balls would crash, while all around his camp the steadily increas- ing storm gave fearful indications of his overthrow. For awhile he turned and turned, like a scorpion girt with fire, but his proud, ambitious heart was at last compelled to yield, and that splendid army, on which he had fondly hoped to build his fame and secure rank and glory, laid down its arms. Forty-two brass cannon, five thousand LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 279 stand of arms, and all the camp equipage, fell into the hands of the Americans, and one long, loud shout of triumph and of joy rolled through the northern colonies. Gates, in- flated by success, for which he had Arnold to thank, refused to report his victory to Washington, but sent his dispatch to Putnam, at Fishkill, with the request to deliver it to Congress. Putnam, overjoyed at the news, spread it through the army, and shouts, and the firing of cannon signalized the glorious event. Rev. Timothy Dwight, a chaplain in the army, preached a sermon at head-quarters, next day, from the text, " I will remove far off from you the northern army." Never was a sermon so listened to before by the officers and troops. Putnam could not refrain from nodding and smiling during the discourse at the happy hits with which it was filled, and at the close was loud in his praises of Mr. Dwight and the sermon, though, to be sure, he said there was no such text in the Bible the chaplain having coined it to suit the occasion. When shown the passage, he exclaimed, " Well, there is every thing in that book, and Dwight knows just where to lay his finger on it." Washington, distressed for want of men, had written Gates, after the first battle, to send him Morgan's corps, if the enemy was retreating. Gates declined, on the ground that Burgoyne was still in front. Two days after, the deci- sive battle was fought, and yet he retained the troops until the terms of the capitulation were settled, and its formali- ties gone through with. About this time Washington received a letter from Howe, in which the latter remonstrated warmly against the destruc- tion of several mills, by the American troops, on the ground that it inflicted distress on the inhabitants. Washington defended his conduct as perfectly consistent with the usages of war, and added, " I am happy to find that you express so much sensibility to the sufferings of the inhabitants, as it gives room to hope that those wanton and unnecessary de- 280 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. predations which have heretofore, in many instances, marked the conduct of your army, will be discontinued. The in- stances I allude to need not be enumerated; your own memory will suggest them to your imagination, from the destruction of Charlestown, in Massachusetts, down to the more recent burning of mills, barns, and houses, at the head of Elk and in the vicinity of the Schuylkill." No man knew better how to deal, these severe home thrusts than Wash- ington. They were given, however, as a just punishment, and did not spring from a revengeful temper, for on the very day the flag bore this caustic note, another accompa- nied the following civil card : " General Washington's com- pliments to General Howe, and does himself the pleasure to return to him a dog which accidentally fell into his hands, and by the inscription on the collar appears to belong to General Howe." The two armies lying so near each other, constant skir- mishes took place between detached parties, in which great skill and bravery were frequently exhibited. It became very difficult for Howe to collect forage, and in the partisan warfare which the attempt created the British were sure to be losers. In the meantime, Howe pushed his efforts to clear the Delaware below the city, so that the fleet could come up. Washington, on the other hand, determined at all hazards to prevent it ; for he knew that unless Howe could open his communication with the ships he would be compelled to evacuate Philadelphia. Forts Mercer and Mifflin, on Red and Mud Banks, protected by a fleet of galleys and other vessels, under the command of Com. Hazlewood, was the only barrier between the British army and their ships, and against these Howe immediately directed a large force. Col. Christopher Green, with four hundred men from the two Rhode Island regiments, garrisoned Fort Mercer, while 'Colonel Smith, with about the same number of Maryland LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 283 troops, defended Fort Mifflin. Count Donop, with twelve hundred Hessians, was sent against the former, and early in the morning of the 22d of October, suddenly emerged from the woods within cannon shot of the fort. The little garri- son was taken by surprise, but not unprepared. In a few minutes a Hessian officer rode up with a flag, and ordered them to lay down their arms, declaring that if they refused no quarter would be given. Enraged at this insolent de- mand, Colonel Green replied, " We ask no quarter, nor will we give any." With this murderous understanding, the two armies prepared for action. Donop immediately ordered a battery to be erected, within half gun shot of the fort, and notwithstanding the cannonading of the Americans, com- pleted it, and at four o'clock opened his fire. He played furiously on the American works for three-quarters of an hour, and then gave orders to move forward to the assault. In two columns, one against the north and the other against the south side, they moved swiftly and steadily over the intervening space. The little band within gazed sternly on the overwhelming numbers, bearing down in such beautiful array, resolved to die where they stood rather than surren- der. The first division, finding the advanced post and out- works abandoned, imagined the Americans had left them in affright. A loud cheer rang through the ranks, a lively march was struck up, and the column moved swiftly forward toward the silent redoubt itself, in which not a man could be seen. The soldiers were already ascending the ramparts to plant upon them the flag of victory, when suddenly every embrasure vomited forth fire, while a shower of grape-shot from a partially masked battery swept them away with frightful rapidity. Stunned and overwhelmed, they broke and fled out of the reach of the fire. The troops comprising the other column approached the south side of the fort, and pressing gallantly on, passed the abattis, crossed the ditch, and were pouring over the pickets, and mounting even tho 284 LIFE OP WASHINGTON. parapets, when the same deadly fire smote them so terribly that they recoiled and fled, leaving their commander mor- tally wounded on the field. The next day he died. He was only thirty-seven years of age, and just before his death exclaimed, " It is finishing a noble career early, but I die the victim of my ambition and the avarice of my sove- reign."* The loss of the enemy was about four hundred, while that of the Americans was but thirty-eight. The' first cannon shot aimed at Fort Mercer was the signal for the British fleet to advance against Fort Mifflin. It was, how ever, kept at bay by the American galleys and floating bat- teries, and did not make its attack on the fort till next day, when the Augusta, of sixty-four guns, the Roebuck, of forty-four, two frigates, the Merlin, of eighteen guns, and a galley opened a heavy fire on the fort and flotilla. The Americans replied with a terrific cannonade, the echoes rolling up the Delaware, filling friends and foes with the deepest anxiety. But the balls of the Americans crashed so incessantly through the ships that the commander at length gave the orders to fall down the river out of the reach of the fire. A shot had set the Augusta on fire, and at noon she blew up with a tremendous explosion. Soon after, the Merlin was seen to be in a blaze, and she too blew up, when the enemy withdrew. The officers commanding both forts were highly complimented by Washington, and swords were voted them and Commodore Hazlewood by Congress. Though repulsed, Howe did not abandon the attempt to force the passage of the river, and thirty vessels arriving, not long after, from New York, bringing reinforce- ments, he set on foot more extensive preparations. Province Island, in rear of Mud Island, was taken possession of, and batteries were erected, while a large fleet, the vessels of which, drawing but little water, assembled near the forts. * Referring to the fact that the troops were hired to England solely to obtain money. LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 285 Washington, from his camp at Whitemarsh, saw these pre- parations with the extremest anxiety. With the fall of these forts would be extinguished his last hope of compelling the British to evacuate Philadelphia that season. He wished to dislodge the enemy on Province Island, but in the attempt he would expose himself to an attack in the rear by Howe, who had thrown a bridge across the Schuylkill, and could easily reach him and cut off his retreat with a vastly supe- rior force. Thus fettered, he saw the works go up day by day, and the vessels and floating batteries slowly swing to their places, and a circle of fire gathering around Fort Mif- flin, from which nothing but a miracle could deliver it. In the meantime, a heavy rain-storm set in, and the fatigued soldiers were compelled, in relieving guard, often to wade breast-deep in the water. By the 10th, [Nov.,] a floating battery of twenty heavy cannons had been brought, through a new channel, to within forty yards of an angle of the fort, and four sixty-four, and two forty gun ships to within nine hundred yards, while fourteen strong redoubts, protected by heavy artillery, covered Province Island. Against this formidable array Colonel Smith could muster but three hundred men, protected by comparatively few batteries. At noon, on the 10th, the cannonading com- menced from all the ships and land batteries, at once, and it rained shot and shells upon that little fort. But its guns, trained by skillful artillerists, spoke sharp and quick amid the deafening echoes, and it flamed and thundered over that low island, as though a volcano were upheaving it from the sea. Before night the commander of the artillery was killed by the bursting of a bomb, and the pallisades began to suffer. One cannon was also damaged. All night long the heavens and the waters were illuminated by the blaze of the guns, whose sullen reverberations rolled with a boding sound over the American camp. The cannonading continued all next day, slowly grinding the fort to powder. Col. Smith, struck 286 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. senseless by a brick which a cannon ball hurled against him in its passage through a chimney, was, with Capt. George, also wounded, carried over to Red Bank. The enemy played night and day, without cessation, on the works, to prevent the garrison from repairing damages, and on the 1 2th dis- mounted two eighteen-pounders. The next day the ruin of the block-house was complete. Lieutenant Russel suc- ceeded Colonel Smith in command, but overcome with fatigue, withdrew, and- Major Thayer volunteered to take his place. A more gallant officer was never inclosed by the walls of a fort. Against the hopeless odds that pressed him so sorely, with his cannon dismounted one after another, all his outworks demolished, and his garrison thinned off, he bore up to the last, refusing to } T ield while a gun could carry shot. The scene around that low fort at night was inde scribably grand and fearful. Girdled with fire, and the target for so many cannon, canopied with shells bursting over and within, it still spoke forth its stern defiance, and answered thunder with thunder. On the 13th, the heavy floating battery of twenty cannon, anchored within pistol shot of the fort, opened with frightful effect, but before noon it was knocked to pieces and silenced by the well-directed fire of Thayer's artillery. Thus day after day wore on, while the garrison, though sick and exhausted, stood bravely to their guns. All this time Major Fleury sent daily dis- patches to Washington. A mere line or two detailed the progress of the enemy. Compelled to sit listless while this brave defense was going on, his indignation was aroused against Gates and Putnam, for their refusal to send the re- inforcements he had demanded, and which might have pre- vented the terrible calamities that nothing now seemed able to avert. At length a deserter to the British informed the commanders, to their astonishment, of the breaking up ol the garrison. The attack was about to be abandoned, but encouraged by the report of this deserter, they, at daylight LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 287 on the 15th, brought up two frigates to cannonade the forl in front, while the Vigilant, cut down so as to draw little water, was carried so close to the works that her guns over- looked those within. At ten o'clock a signal bugle rung out over the water, and the next moment a terrific cannon- ade opened. The effect was appalling. The already half- destroyed batteries were soon completely demolished, the ditches filled with ruins, while the top-men in the rigging of the Vigilant picked off the artillerists on the platforms, and cast hand grenades into their midst. With only two mounted guns, whose echoes could scarcely be heard in the surrounding uproar, Thayer still kept up a brave defense. In a short time these shared the fate of the others, and before night every embrasure was in ruins, the parapets all knocked away, the artillery company almost to a man killed or dis- abled, and the whole fort presenting only a painful wreck. As darkness approached, Thayer sent over to Red Bank all the garrison but forty men. With these he remained till midnight, when, seeing that every defense was swept away, and the enemy making preparations for storming the place in the morning, he set fire to the ruins, and by the light ot the flames crossed over to Red Bank. Scarcely fifty un- wounded men were left of the whole garrison. It was one of the most obstinate battles that had yet been fought, and stood side by side with Arnold's naval action on Lake Champlain, and covered the heroes of it with honor. Fort Mercer, at Red Bank, was still in possession of the Americans, and Washington strained every nerve to save it. But Green, the commander, and Morgan, whom he sent to his relief, were too weak to oppose Cornwallis, rapidly approaching it with a heavy force. Colonel Green, despair- ing of succor, at length abandoned it, leaving all the artil- lery and stores in possession of the enemy. The American fleet, no longer protected by the forts, was now inevitably lost. Taking advantage of a dark night, some of the galleys, 288 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. and two or three small vessels crept past the batteries at Philadelphia, and escaped up the river. The remaining portion, seventeen ships in all, were completely hemmed in by the enemy. The crews, seeing that escape was impos- sible, set them on fire at Gloucester and fled. In their blazing timbers was consumed the last hope of rescuing Phi- ladelphia from the British. The Delaware was now swept clear of every battery and vessel, and the enemy could sit down in safety in their snug winter quarters. The reinforce- ments, so culpably withheld, at length arrived, but too late to render aid, and only in time to increase the suffering and starvation of the army. Howe, elated by his success, and strengthened by re- inforcements, resolved to advance against Washington, and marched his army within two or three miles of the Ameri- can camp. The latter, not doubting that a great and deci- sive battle was at hand, reviewed his troops with care, told them that the enemy was about to attack them, and ex- pressed his confidence that victory would remain with the Americans. He praised the patience and valor of those who had combated with him at Brandy wine and German town, and rousing their ambition and pride, told them that now was the time to show the conquerors from Saratoga, who were to stand by their sides in the approaching conflict, that they were their equals in heroism and love of country. He addressed the northern troops in language of praise, saying that they were about to have another opportunity to add fresh laurels to those which they had so gloriously gained. He spoke of their common country, and by his impassioned manner, earnest appeals, a,nd noble self-devotion, kindled every heart with enthusiasm and love, till even the half- clad, half-famished, and worn-out soldier panted equally with the strongest and freshest for the conflict. But Howe, after maneuvering for three days in front of the American lines, concluded not to venture an attack. Having lost more LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 28G than a hundred men in the skirmishes* of the detached par- ties with Morgan's riflemen, he at length retired to Phila- delphia, while Washington, weighed down with care and disappointment, led his suffering, starving army through the snow to the gloomy encampment of Valley Forge, there to make up the most sad and touching chapter in our history. It seemed at this time as if Heaven was determined to try the American commander, in the sevenfold heated fur- nace of affliction, for while struggling against the mortifi- tion and disappointment of his continued failures, and against the gloomy prospect before him, and actual suffering of his destitute army, and compelled to bear the reproaches of men in high places for his want of success, he saw a conspiracy forming to disgrace him from his command as unequal to its duties. What Washington suffered during this autumn and winter no one will ever know. It was all black around him and before him, while, to crown his accumulated afflictions, his own officers, with members of Congress, were plotting his overthrow. Yet his serenity did not forsake him. Con- scious of his own integrity, caring only for his countr} T , the injurious comparisons drawn between him and Gates, the falling off of his friends, the disloyalty of the inhabitants, and the dreadful trials he knew to be in store for him, could not move him to jealousy, or awaken an angry expression, or force him to despair. All the shafts which misfortune hurled at him fell powerless at his feet. Still he felt for his country. Here was his vulnerable point. Her danger and sufferings aroused all the terrible and the tender in his nature. Much has been said of the Conway cabal, and various accounts of its origin and progress given. The whole affair, however, admits of an easy and natural explanation. A man rising, like Washington, to power in troublous times, will * Major Morris, fresh from Saratoga, was killed in one of these skirmishes. 290 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. always make rivals and enemies. There will be one class of officers who, having a high opinion of their own merit, will resent any refusal to their claims, and become secretly embittered. Such were Gates and Mifflin, who never for- gave Washington for not granting their requests at Boston, the former to have command of a brigade to which he con- sidered himself entitled, and the latter that of a regiment. There are others, mere ambitious adventurers, who, if foiled in their efforts in one quarter, will endeavor to succeed in another, and placing their personal aggrandizement before every thing else, are ripe for conspiracies, revolutions, or any thing that promises to advance their own interests. Such was Conway. There is still a third class who measure excellence by success, and whose feelings grow cold toward a defeated commander. Such were some in the army, and some in Congress, and many in the higher walks of social life. Then each of these has personal friends more or less impressible. Added to all these, there were, in the case of Washington, men of influence who, while they had the reputation of being patriots, secretly inclined to the loy- alists, and would gladly seize the first opportunity to over- throw the only man that stood in the way of the submission of the colonies. All these classes and characters remain quiet so long as they see that the man they assail is too strong in popular affection or in power to be attacked with safety. But the moment his own misfortunes, or the suc- cesses of others, weaken that popularity, and sap that strength, they combine against him, and what was before mere private complaints and abuse, becomes organized action. By this natural process the Conway cabal, doubt- less, was formed. Conway was an unscrupulous, dangerous man, and had joined the army as a mere adventurer. Although an Englishman by birth, he had lived in France since he was six years of age, and seen much service in the French army. He came to this country with high reconi- WASHINGTON MIDWAY BETWEEN THE TWO ARMIES AT PRINCETON. LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 293 mendations, and was appointed by Congress brigadier- general. Arrogant, boastful, and selfish, he was especially repugnant to Washington, who, with his deep insight, pene- trated the hollow character of the man at once, and would never trust him. He, therefore, stood in Conway's way, and the latter would naturally seize the first opportunity to help remove him. The constant defeats in Pennsylvania, during the summer of 1777, gave great weight to his opinion against Washington's military capacity, and it was not difficult to win over many members of a Congress so contemptible as the one which then ruled our affairs. Still there was a great difficulty in taking the initiatory steps. If Washington could be displaced, there was no leader suffi- ciently popular to secure the confidence and cooperation of the people and the army. If successful, therefore, in its first attempt, the plot would afterward fall to the ground through its own weakness. But the great and decided vic- tory of Gates over Burgoyne, linking his name with plaudits and honors all over the land, contrasting as it did with Washington's successive defeats and helpless condition, gave to the former the very prominence, the want of which had hitherto brought every thing to a dead lock. From this moment the malcontents grew bold, and the conspiracy strengthened with wonderful rapidity. Gates, an essen- tially weak, vain man, was just the tool to be used in this nefarious scheme. He entertained no more doubt of his superiority to Washington as a military man, than his friends appeared to, and would have had no hesitation in accepting the chief command. The first thing to be secured was the cooperation of a sufficient number of the superior officers. Congress was already corrupted to an extent that promised success, and the army alone was wanting to take a decided step at once. The officers were cautiously sounded, but here the conspirators made poor progress. The remark which Wilkinson dropped to Stirling, and which exploded 16 294 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. the whole scheme, was evidently thrown out as a feeler. As if in casual conversation, he remarked that Conway had written to Gates, saying " Heaven has been determined to save your country, or a weak general and bad counsellors would have ruined it." This brought on a correspondence between different parties, and developed, at once, the feel- ings of both the army and the people. Patrick Henry, Governor of Virginia, received an anony- mous letter, which Washington ascribed to Dr. Rush, in which, after some flattery, the latter says "A dreary wil- derness is still before us, and unless a Moses or a Joshua are raised up in our behalf, we must perish before we reach the promised land;" and again, " The spirit of the southern army is no way inferior to the northern. A Gates, a Lee, or a Conway, would, in a few weeks, render them an irre- sistible body of men." This letter Patrick Henrj* inclosed to Washington, accompanying it with his severe condemna- tion. Said he, " I am sorry there should be one man who counts himself my friend, who is not yours." Another anonymous paper was sent to Laurens, President of Con- gress, filled with accusations against Washington and his course. This, Laurens refused to lay before Congress, and sent it to Washington, with his condemnation of the writer. The latter replied, saying he hoped that the paper would be submitted to Congress, that the charges it contained might be investigated, and added, " My enemies take un- generous advantage of me. They know the delicacy of my situation, and that motives of policy deprive me of the defense that I might otherwise make against their insidious attacks. They know I cannot combat their insinuations, however injurious, without disclosing secrets which it is of the utmost moment to conceal. My heart tells me that it has been my unremitted aim to do the best that circum- stances would permit, yet I may have been very often mis- taken in my judgment of the means, and may in many LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 295 instances deserve the imputation, of error." Patrick Henry, hearing of the part General Mifflin was taking in the con- spiracy, wrote again to Washington, to comfort and strengthen him. Said he, " While you face the armed ene- mies of our country in the field, and, by the favor of God, have been kept unhurt, I trust your country will never harbor in her bosom the miscreant who would ruin her best supporter." Letters from others came pouring in, showing what a stern rally his friends would make when action became necessary. Con way endeavored to make friends with Lafayette by flattery and falsehood, but the young patriot penetrated at once, and denounced the vil- lainous faction which sought to make him its tool. He wrote to Washington a long letter, stating that the con- spiracy had involved many in the army, but closed by say- ing, " I am bound to your fate, and I shall follow it, and sustain it as well by my sword as by all the means in m,y power. You will pardon my importunity. Youth and friendship make me too warm, but I feel the greatest concern at recent events." Washington replied to this free and full offer of his sword and his efforts, in terms of warm affection. He had, from the outset, taken him like a son to his bosom, and loved him with parental affection to the last. Not- withstanding these ominous exhibitions of popular feeling, and directly in the teeth of Washington's most earnest, solemn, and even prophetic remonstrances, Congress raised Con way to the rank of major-general, and made him inspector-general of the army. It also created a Board of War, invested with large powers, and placed Conway, Mif- flin and Gates at the head of it. This board immediately planned an expedition to Canada, the command of which was offered, as a bribe, to Lafayette. The latter carried the offer directly to Washington, telling him he should decline. Washington advised him not to do so, as the appointment was an honorable one, and would advance his reputation 296 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. He, tnerefore, accepted, and went to Yorktown to meet the Board of War. On his arrival, he found General Gates at dinner, surrounded by his friends, all of whom received him with the warmest expression of friendship. He sat down to the table, and the wine passed rapidly around as com- plimentary toasts were given in turn by the guests. Just as the company was about to break up, Lafayette remarked that, with their permission, he would propose a toast. The glasses were filled, when, looking steadily at those around him, he said, " The Commander-in-chief of the American Armies.'* They, by a great effort, succeeded in swallowing the toast, but Lafayette never went to Canada. The strength of the conspiracy lay in Congress, where it had reached to an alarming extent. But of the plots then hatched, and the men who then showed themselves to be enemies of Wash- ington, we yet remain in ignorance, and perhaps ever shall. The record of their deeds is destroyed. In a letter to me, a gentleman thoroughly informed on matters of American history, says " It has been said over and over again, and by those best able to speak, that the history of our Revolu- tion could not be written for many years to come some say never and, as to some parts of it, I subscribe to the latter. The diary of Charles Thompson, Secretary to Con- gress, was destroyed. It was more than full, and something of its character was known. Colonel North, too, kept a full diary, of such a character that not even his own son was permitted to see certain parts of it. It too was de- stroyed. When success crowned the patriotic struggle, those who had faltered and wavered, gladly destroyed the evidence of their weakness, while the generosity which filled the brave men who never despaired, led them to cover the shortcomings of their weaker brethren." There is food for much thought in the above paragraph. If Dr. Rush's papers could be obtained for publication, they would, doubt- less, fling some light on this transaction. But all efforts to LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 297 get them have thus far proved abortive. After agitating the army and the country for awhile, the conspiracy at length fell through. Conwav, one of the leaders, was after- ward shot in a duel, and, supposing himself to be dying, wrote to Washington, " I find myself just able to hold the pen during a few minutes, and take this opportunity of express- ing my sincere grief for having done, written, or said any thing disagreeable to your excellency. My career will soon be over ; therefore, justice and truth prompt me to declare my last sentiments. You are, in my eyes, the great and good man. May you long enjoy the love, veneration and esteem of those States whose liberties you have asserted by your virtues." Gates, the chief leader, shorn of all his stolen plumes by his disastrous defeat at Camden recalled in disgrace by the very Congress which had lauded him mortified, humbled and depressed, was compelled at last to receive the condolence and sympathy .of the man whose overthrow he had plotted. Mifm'n, the other leading officer, did not receive the punishment he deserved, but, on the con- trary, was rewarded with honor by his State. Washington had remained unmoved amid it all. Calm in the conscious- ness of his integrity, indifferent to the power and place he occupied, only as he could use them to serve his country, upheld by that serene trust in Heaven which he believed had ordained the triumph of liberty, he moved steadily for- ward in the path of duty and of trial. Like the mountain summit, around which the mists of morning gather, only to dissolve before the uprisen sun, so he, under the light of truth, emerged from the partial obscuration with undimmed splendor, and with a cloudless heaven bending above him. But the deed deserved a deep reprobation from its cruelty, and from the peril in which it brought the country. To add to the suffering which Washington already endured, and weave a plot designed to effect his ruin around the gloomy 298 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. encampment at Valley Forge, revealed hearts hard as iron to all generous and honorable appeals. I have not mentioned as a part of the Conway conspiracy, as it is called, the publication of some forged private letters, said to have been found in Washington's valise when he fled over the Hudson into Jersey, and which contained opinions adverse to the independence of the colonies. Writers have dwelt with more or less severity on this matter. But the attempt was so absurd that I cannot conceive that it could have formed a part of the scheme itself. It must have been the private enterprise of some very weak-headed or ignorant man. That an anonymous publication could weigh a feather against Washington's public acts and sacrifices, was an ex- pectation too preposterous to be entertained by any sensible persons. Washington, at the time, did not even take the trouble to deny it. Valley Forge ! What thoughts and emotions are awakened at the mention of that name. Sympathy and admiration, pity and love, tears and smiles chase each other in rapid succession, as one in imagination goes over the history of that wintry encampment. Never before was there such an exhibition of the triumph of patriotism over neglect and want ; of principle over physical sufferings ; of virtue over the pangs of starvation. Those tattered, half-clad, and bare-foot soldiers, wan with want, taking up their slow march for the wintry forest, leaving their bloody testimo- nials on every foot of the frozen ground they traversed, furnish one of the sublimest scenes in history. A cloud, black as sackcloth, seems to hang over their fortunes, but through it shoots rays of dazzling brightness. A murmur, like the first cadences of a death-song, heralds their march, but there is an undertone of strange meaning and sublime power, for no outward darkness can quench the light of a great soul, no moans of suffering drown the language of a lofty purpose. LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 299 The encampment at Valley Forge was chosen after much deliberation, and frequent consultations among the officers. Various propositions were made, but to each and all there were many and grave objections. Of course, the first and natural wish was to keep the army in the field ; but with such naked troops this would be impossible, and every feel- ing of humanity in Washington revolted from making the attempt. But how and where to quarter them seemed equally difficult. It was proposed to retire to the towns in the interior of the state ; but to this there was the two-fold objection that of inflicting the same destitution and suffer- ing on the inhabitants, and of leaving a large extent of country unprotected, with forage and stores in possession of the enemy. To distribute the troops in different sections would render them liable to be cut off in detail. Washing- ton, therefore, determined to take to the woods, near his enemy, and there hut, so that he could both protect the country and his stores, and also be in striking distance in case of need. The army commenced its march on the llth of Decem- ber, but did not reach the place selected for the encampment till the 19th. In his order of the day, dated December 17th, Washington informed the troops of his decision, and the reasons which urged him to it. He also praised their good conduct during the tedious campaign now closed, declared that it furnished evidence that their cause would finally triumph, even if the colonies were left alone in the struggle, but added that there was every reason to believe that France would soon ally herself openly against England. He pro- mised to share in the hardships, and partake of every incon- venience. The next day had been appointed by Congress as a day of thanksgiving and praise. The army, therefore, remained quiet in their quarters, and divine service was held in the " several corps and brigades," by the chaplains, and hymns of praise and the voice of prayer arose there on the ,300 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. confines of the bleak forest, from men who, to all human appearance, had little to be thankful for, except nakedness, famine, and frost. The next day the work of hutting com- menced. Each regiment was divided into parties of twelve, each party to make its own hut, which was to be of logs, fourteen by sixteen feet on the ground, and six feet and a half high. The sides were to be made tight with clay, and the roof with split slabs, or such material as could be ob- tained. To stimulate the parties to greater exertion, Wash- ington offered a reward of one dollar to each man of that party which finished its hut in the shortest time and most work- manlike manner. Fearing that there would not be slabs or boards sufficient for roofing, he offered a reward, also, of a hundred dollars to any one who should " substitute some other covering," that might be more cheaply and quickly made. In a short time the arms were all stacked, and with their axes and other tools in their hands, this army of eleven thousand men, with the exception of about three thousand who were unfit for duty, was scattered through the woods The scene they presented was strange and picturesque. There was not a murmur or complaint, and with laugh, and song, and loud hallo, they went about their allotted toil. The forest soon rung with the strokes of the axe, and the rapid and incessant crash of falling trees resounded along the shores of the Schuylkill. Little clearings were rapidly made, the foundations of huts laid, and a vast settlement began to spring up along the valley and slopes of the hills. But here and there were scattered groups of fifties and hun- dreds, sitting around huge fires, some of them with scarcely a rag to cover their nakedness, crouching closely to the crackling logs to escape the piercing December blast ; others sick and emaciated, gazing listlessly on the flames, their sunken and sallow visages clearly foretelling what would be their fate before the winter now setting in was over. In another direction were seen men harnessed together like Si&SgJsl AKTTS3WE PREVIOUS Tff) HIS DEPARTURE FOR, AMERICA LIFE OF WASHINGTON. . 303 beasts of burden, and drawing logs to the place of destina- tion. Washington's tent was pitched on the brow of a hill overlooking this strange spectacle. One after another the rude structures went up, till a log city, containing be- tween one and two thousand dwellings, stood in the clear- ings that had been made. Over the ground floor straw was scattered, and into these the " Sons of Liberty," as Colonel Barre had christened them, in the English Parliament, crept to starve and to die. The officer's huts were ranged in lines in the rear of those of the soldiers, one being allowed to each of all those who bore commissions, the whole being surrounded with intrenchments. But scarcely had the troops got into these comfortless houses, when there began to be a want of food in camp. Congress, with that infallible cer- tainty of doing the wrong thing, had recently, against Washington's advice, made a change in the quarter-master's and commissary's department, by which, in this critical juncture, the army was left without provisions. In the mean- time, news came that a large party of the enemy was ad- vancing in the country to forage. Washington immediately ordered the troops to be in readiness to march, when, to his surprise, he found that they were wholly unable to stir, for want of food, and that a dangerous mutiny had broken out. The soldiers were willing 'to suffer or die, if necessary, but they would not submit to the neglect and indifference of Congress, which they knew could easily relieve their wants. The statements made by the different officers were of the most alarming kind. General Huntingdon wrote a note to Washington, saying that his brigade was out of provisions, but he held it in readiness to march, as "fighting was far preferable to starving." General Varnuin wrote, also, saying 'that his division had been two days without meat, and three days without bread, and that the men must be supplied, or they could not be commanded ; still they were ready to march, as any change was better than slow starvation. On 304 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. inquiry there was found only one purchasing commissary in camp, and he made the frightful report of not a " single hoof of any kind to slaughter, and not more than twenty-five barrels of flour" to the whole army. Only small detach- ments, therefore, could be sent out. These hovered about the enemy, now bursting on a small party from some forest, and again surrounding the dwelling where they were repos- ing. The weather came on intensely cold, and the soldiers could hardly handle their muskets with their stiffened fingers. They rarely entered a house, and dared not kindle a fire at night, lest it should reveal their position to the enemy. Thus, for a week, they kept marching and skirmishing, till the enemy withdrew to Philadelphia, when they returned to camp, having collected but little forage. Here suffering and want were fast bringing things to a crisis. The soldiers were at first satisfied with the excuse given for the delay of provisions, viz : that the rains had made the roads almost impassable. But day after day passing without relief, the}'' began to complain, and soon their murmurs swelled to loud clamors and threats. First the different regiments began to assemble, and the excitement increasing, whole brigades and divisions gathered together without order, and against the commands of their officers. The latter did not attempt to enforce obedience, but spoke kindly to them, saying that Washington was aware of their suffering condition, that it grieved him to the heart, and he was straining every nerve to obtain relief. Washington himself exhorted them to be obedient, saying that provisions would soon be in camp, and insubordination could result only in evil. The soldiers, in return, were calm and respectful. They told him they knew that their conduct was mutinous, but their condition justified it. They were actually starving, and relief must be had. They then respectfully communicated to him their fixed determination, which was to march in an orderly man- LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 305 ner into the country, seize provisions wherever they could lay hands on them, giving in return certificates as to the amount and value of the articles taken, and then return to camp, and to their duty. Never before was there a mutiny so devoid of crime, and which, in fact, partook of the moral sublime. Their language was, " We are starving here, and shall soon be of no service to you or our country. We love you, and the cause in which we are embarked. We will stand by you at all hazards, and defend with our last drop of blood our common country, but food we must and will have." Washington was overcome by the condition and conduct of these men. So self-sustained in their sufferings o constant to him in their destitution so firm for their country, though abandoned by Congress, their language and attitude moved him deeply. There was something inex- pressibly touching in the noble regret they manifested for appearing to be disobedient, and the high, manlj r grounds in which they defended their conduct. Washington, in reply, told them that he was well aware of the sufferings of his faithful soldiers. He had long admired their patience and resignation, and devotion to their country, under the most trying circumstances, and if the provisions did not arrive by a specified hour, he would place himself at their head, and march into the country till they were found. To this they consented, but the promised supplies arriving before the time fixed had expired, quietness and subordination were restored, anJ a movement, the results of which could not be foreseen, prevented. This supply, however, was soon exhausted, and then the same scenes of suffering were repeated. Nearly all the inhabitants in the vicinity of Valley Forge were Tories, and hence withheld the food they could have furnished. Find- ing that neither offers of pay nor threats could wring it from them, Washington, acting under a resolution of Congress, issued a proclamation in which he ordered all the farmers 306 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. within seventy miles of Valley Forge, to thresh out half their grain by the first of February, and the other half by the first of March, under penalty of having the whole seized as straw. The Tories refused to comply, and many of them defended their barns and stacks with fire-arms. Some, unable to do this, set fire to their grain, to prevent its falling into the hands of the Americans. The soldiers turned themselves into pack-horses, yoked themselves to wagons, and shrunk from no labor required to bring in pro- visions. But all the efforts and ingenuity of Washington could not prevent the gaunt figure of famine from stalking through his camp. Horses died for want of forage, and the men became so reduced that scarcely enough could be found fit " to discharge the military camp duties from day to day ;" and even these few were compelled to borrow clothes to cover their nakedness while performing them. A week passed without a pound of flesh being brought into camp, and at last the bread gave out, and for several days the starving soldiers had not a morsel to eat. Heavy snow-storms, followed by excessive frosts, swelled the suf- ferings that before seemed unbearable. So few blankets had been supplied that the benumbed soldiers were com- pelled to sleep sitting around their fires, to prevent freezing. Many were so naked that they could not show themselves outside of their huts, but hid shivering away in the scanty straw. Others would flit from hut to hut, with only a loose blanket to cover their otherwise naked forms. These huts, half closed up with snow, and the men wading around in their rags to beat paths, presented a singular spectacle of a bright wintry morning. In the midst of this accumulation of woes, the small-pox broke out, and Washington was com- pelled to resort to inoculation to prevent the severer ravages of the disease. The sick, in consequence, were everywhere, and without blankets or provisions and hospital stores, and stretched on the earth wet and frosty, by turns, presented LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 307 a scene of woe and wretchedness that beggars description. Starvation and despair will in the end demoralize the noblest army that ever defended a holy cause, and they at length began to tell on this band of patriots. A foreign officer, in walking through the encampment one day with Washington, heard through the crevices of the huts as he passed, half- naked men muttering, " no. pay, no clothes, no rum." Then he said he despaired of American Liberty. Had Howe been made aware of this deplorable state of the army, he could have with a single blow crushed it to atoms. Amid this woe and suffering, Washington moved with a calm mien but a breaking heart. The piteous looks and haggard appear- ance of his poor soldiers the consciousness that his army was powerless to resent any attack of the enemy, nay, on the point of dissolution, never probably to be reunited, all combined to press him so heavily with care, that even he must have sunk under it had he not put his trust in a higher power than man. One day a Quaker, by the name of Potts, was strolling up a creek, when he heard, in a secluded spot, the solemn voice of some one apparently engaged in prayer. Stealing quietly forward, he saw Washington's horse tied to a sapling, and a little farther on, in a thicket, the chief himself, on his knees, and with tears streaming down his cheeks, beseeching Heaven for his country and his army. Before God alone, that strong heart gave way, and poured forth the full tide of its griefs and anxieties. Though the heavens grew dark around him, and disaster after disaster wrecked his brightest hopes, and despair settled down on officers and men, he showed the same unalterable presence moved the same tower of strength. But to his God he could safely go with his troubles, and on that arm securely lean. How sublime does he appear, and how good and holy the cause he was engaged in seems, as he thus carries it to the throne of a just God, feeling that it has his sanction and can claim his protection. LIFE OF WASHINGTON. The poor man who had witnessed this spectacle hurried home, and on opening the door of his house burst into tears. His wife, amazed, inquired what was the matter with him. He told her what he had seen, and added, " If there is any one on this earth whom the Lord will listen to, it is George Washington, and I feel a presentiment that under such a commander, there can be no doubt of our eventually estab- lishing our independence, and that God in his providence has willed it so." No wonder peace sat enthroned on that brow when despair clouded all others. In February his wife joined him, and as the two walked through the wretched camp, even the half-starved and muti- nous soldier raised his head to bless them, and from many a pallid lip fell the " long live Washington," as his tall form darkened the door of the hovel. She was worthy of him, and cheerfully shared his discomforts and anxieties. Hav- ing at length got a little addition, built of logs, attached to their quarters, as a dining-room, she writes that their strait- ened quarters were much more tolerable. But the sick, powerless, and famished army that lay around him did not wholly occupy Washington's attention. He wrote to the various officers to the east and north, took measures to have West Point fortified, and pressed on Con- gress the necessity of a complete change in the organization and discipline of the army, and the mode of obtaining sup- plies. This body at length yielded to his solicitations, and a committee of five was appointed to wait on him at Valley Forge, to decide on some feasible plan. Washington laid before them a project, which, after receiving the various opinions of the officers, he had, with great labor and care, drawn up. The committee remained three months in camp, and then returned to Congress with a report, which, with a very few amendments was adopted. On one point he and Congress differed widely. Hitherto, the officers received LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 309 pay only while in the service, and no provision was made for them in the future. Washington wished to have the half-pay system for life adopted, and finding Congress averse to it, he wrote a strong and urgent request, in which he declared that he " most religiously believed the salvation of the cause depended upon it, and without it, the officers would moulder to nothing, or be composed of low and illiterate men, void of capacity, and unfit for their business." He said he had no interest in the decision, personally, as he had fully resolved never to receive the smallest benefit from the half-pay establishment; but he added, " As a man who fights under the weight of proscription, and as a citizen who wishes to see the liberty of his country established on a permanent basis, and whose property depends on the success of our arms, I am deeply interested." Still Congress hesitated, doubtful whether this matter did not belong to the separate States. Some saw in it the basis of a standing army ; others the elements of a privileged class ; indeed, saw every thing but the simple truth, that officers will not sacrifice all their interests, and run the hazards of war for a country which will not even promise after her independence is secured to provide for their support. Deeply impressed with the necessity and importance of this measure, Washington wrote again to a member of Congress, declaring " that if it was not adopted he believed the army would disband, and even if it should not, it would be without discipline, without energy, incapable of acting with vigor, and destitute of those cements neces- sary to promise success on the one hand, or to withstand the shocks of adversity on the other." He said, " Men may speculate as much as they will ; they may talk of patriotism, they may draw a few examples, from ancient story, of great achievements performed by its influence, but whoever builds upon them as a sufficient basis for conducting a long and bloody war, will find himself deceived in the end I do not mean to Delude altogether the idea of patriotism. 310 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. I know it exists, and I know it has done much in the pre- sent contest. But I will venture to assert that a great and lasting war can never be supported on this principle alone." He might have added that officers and men felt that if they owed the State obedience, the State in turn owed them pro- tection ; or that if they risked life and fortune in the defense of their country, she, when delivered, owed them some pro- vision against want. It is hard to fight for a country that degrades our efforts to the mere duties of a hireling. Patriotism, like love for a fellow being, must have regard in return or it will soon die out. Urged by Washington's appeals, Congress at length passed the half-pay bill, but shortly after reconsidered it, and finally compromised the matter by allowing the officers half-pay for seven years, and granting a gratuity of eighty dollars to each non-commis- sioned officer and soldier who should serve to the end of the war. Thus, while struggling with the difficulties that beset him in camp, he was compelled to plead with a suspicious, feeble Congress, and submit to its implied imputations. The course it was taking he saw clearly would lead to mischief. Its openly avowed suspicions of the army, he declared, was just the way .to make it dangerous. " The most certain way (said he) to make a man your enemy, is to tell him you esteem him such." Besides, the conduct of the army did not warrant this jealousy. From first to last, it had shown an example of obedience to the civil authorities, worthy of the highest commendation, not of distrust. Washington boldly asserted that history could not furnish another instance of an army " suffering such uncommon hardships, and bearing them with the same patience and fortitude. To see men (said he) without clothes to cover their nakedness, without blankets to lie on, without shoes, for the want of which their marches might be traced by the blood from their feet and almost as often without provi- sions as with them, marching through the frost and snow, COUNTRYMEN JOINING THE ARMY UNDER GATES. LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 313 and at Christinas taking tip their winter-quarters within a day's march of the enemy, without a house or hut to cover them till they could be built, and submitting without a murmur, is a proof of patience and obedience which, in my opinion, can scarce be paralleled." No, it could not be paralleled, and yet the greater the devotion and sufferings of the army, the more neglectful, suspicious and hostile Congress became. Its noble conduct demanded gratitude and confidence, but received instead distrust and injury. Thus, while exerting all his powers to protect and keep to- gether the army, he had to devise and propose every im- portant military measure, and then, at last, see many of his plans fail through party spirit, and others so altered as to lose half their value. It was under these accumulations of evils the Conway cabal came to a head, and Washington saw his own officers conspiring together to effect his overthrow. This was the darkest hour of his life, for not only misfor- tunes, but things far more wounding to him than any misfortune, were crowding him to the furthest limit of endurance. Thus passed the long, severe and gloomy winter, but spring at last with its balmy breath arrived, and was hailed with delight by the suffering troops. Unjust and incon- sistent as it may seem, there were many in Congress and out of it who blamed Washington for not carrying on a winter campaign. Of these members of Congress he spoke in bitter sarcasm, declaring that they at first denied the soldiers clothes, and then wanted them to keep the field in winter. " I can assure these gentlemen," said he, " that it is a much easier and less distressing thing to draw remon- strances in a comfortable room, by a good fire-side, than to occupy a cold, bleak hill, and sleep under frost and snow, without clothes or blankets. However, although they seem to have little feeling for the naked, distressed soldiers, I feel superabundantly for them, and from my soul I pity those 17 314 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. miseries which it is neither in my power to relieve nor pre- vent." His indignation and scorn are moved at the inhu- manity of such complaints, but they both yield to pity as he contemplates the condition of his soldiers. But not- withstanding the conspiracies surrounding him, the disaffec- tion of some of his best officers, and the conduct of Congress, and the state of his troops, he did not waver a moment in his course. And when, in the middle of April, he received a draft of Lord North's conciliatory bills, as they were called, containing a new project for settling the difficulties between the two countries, all his solicitude was aroused at once, lest the favorable terms offered- might be accepted, or at least urged by men tired of the war, and despairing of success. He immediately wrote to a member of Congress, saying, " Nothing short of Independence, it appears to me, can possibly do. A peace on any other terms would be, if I may be allowed the expression, a peace of war." He ex- pressed his views in full, in which, fortunately, Congress coincided, and the three commissioners sent over by the British government, Lord Carlisle, Governor Johnstone and William Eden, after vainly striving for three months to make arrangements with Congress, returned. Previous to their departure, however, they attempted to send circulars to each of the States, showing the terms of reconciliation which had been rejected, and threatening those who con- tinued their rebellious attitudes with the vengeance of the king. Another event soon after occurred, which shed sudden sunshine on the gloomy encampment of Valley Forge, and made its rude hovels ring with acclamations of joy. The overthrow of Burgoyne had fixed the wavering attitude of France, and on the 6th of February a treaty of defensive alliance, as well as of amity and con&merce, was signed on her part, by Geraud, and on ours by the American commis- sioners, Franklin, Duane, and Lee. The bearer of these LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 315 glad tidings arrived the last of April, and bonfires, illumi- nations, the firing of cannon and ringing of bells announced the joy with which it was received by the people. The army was wild with excitement, and the bright May morn- ing that dawned over the huts at Valley Forge did not more certainly promise a coming summer than did this alliance with one of the strongest powers on the globe assure our success. Washington set apart the 7th of May to celebrate this important event in form. At nine in the morning, the troops were all assembled to hear divine service and offer up their thanksgiving. A signal-gun, fired at half- past ten, summoned the men to the field. At half-past eleven, another signal-gun was fired, and the columns began their march. At a third signal, a running fire of musketry went down the first line and back the second. A moment's silence followed, when at a given signal a loud shout went up, and " Long live the, King of France," rolled like thunder over the field. Before the echo had died away, the artillery broke in, shaking the earth with its deep rever- berations, and sending its sullen roar of joy far over the spring-clad hills and valleys. After thirteen rounds, it ceased, and the loud rattle of musketry succeeded, and then the deepening shout of " Long live the friendly European powers," again arose from the whole army. As a finale, thirteen cannon were fired, followed by a discharge of mus- ketry and a loud huzza to " The American States." All the officers of the army then assembled to partake of a collation provided by Washington, and for once, plenty reigned in the camp. When he took his leave, the officers arose and began to huzza and shout " Long live Washington." They kept it up till he and his suite had gone a quarter of a mile. The latter, his heart swelling with joy and gratitude at the bright prospect so suddenly opened before his country, and his face lit up at the enthusiasm manifested on every side, would often turn, and swinging his hat above his head, echo 316 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. back the wild huzza. The uproar would then be redoubled hats flew into the air, and " Washington, long live Wash- ington," was echoed and re-echoed over the field, and taken up by the army till the whole atmosphere seemed an element of joy. The troops at this time presented a very different appear- ance than when they went into winter-quarters. Better clad, they had with the opening of spring been subject to constant and severe discipline, by Baron Steuben, who had joined the army during the winter. This generous stranger had been aid to Frederic the Great, and was afterward made grand-marshal of the court of Prince Hohenzollern- Hechingen. The King of Sardinia, anxious to obtain his services, had made him flattering offers to enter his army, but the baron was well settled, with ample means, and re- fused to accept them. In 1777, he passed though France, on his way to England, to visit some English noblemen. Count Germain, the French minister of war, was an old companion-in-arms of Steuben, and he immediately began to press the latter to enter the American service. The wary French minister knew that our weakness lay in our want of discipline, and ignorance of military tactics, and that there could be no one found better fitted to render us aid in this department than he. For a long time Steuben steadily refused, but the indefatigable Germain finally over- came all his scruples, and he embarked for this country, where he arrived on the 1st of December [1777]. Con- gress received him with distinction, and at his own request, he joined the army at Valley Forge, as a volunteer. His astonishment at its aspect was unbounded. Such a famished, half-naked, miserable collection of human beings he never before saw dignified with the title of soldiers, and he de- clared that no European army could be kept together a week under such privations and sufferings. His amazement at the condition of the army gave way to pity and respect LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 317 for men who, for a principle, would endure so much. As soon as spring opened he commenced, as inspector-general, to which office he had been appointed by Congress, to drill the men. Ignorance of our language crippled him sadly at first, but undiscouraged, he threw his whole soul into his work, determined that such noble patriots should also be- come good soldiers. Though choleric and impetuous, he was generous as the day, and possessed a heart full of the tenderest sympathy. The men, notwithstanding his tem- pestuous moods, soon learned to love him. The good effects of his instructions were quickly apparent, and now, when Washington was about to open the summer campaign, he saw with pride an army before him that could be wielded, and that had confidence in its own skill. Still it was small, and recruits came in slowly. The committee sent by Con- gress to Valley Forge, to confer with Washington, agreed that the whole force in the field should be forty thousand men, exclusive of artillery and cavalry ; but when, the next day after the grand celebration of the alliance with France, a council of war was called, it appeared that there were, in- cluding the detachments in the Highlands, only fifteen thousand troops, and no prospect of increasing the total number to more than twenty thousand. At Valley Forge were eleven thousand eight hundred, while nineteen thousand five hundred British occupied Philadelphia, and ten thousand four hundred more New York, not to mention between three and four thousand in Rhode Island. Over thirty-three thou- sand British soldiers were on American soil ; a force which Congress had nothing adequate to oppose. In this council it was resolved almost unanimously that it would be unwise, under the circumstances, to commence offensive operations. The army, therefore, remained quiet. Meanwhile, Howe began to make preparations for evacuating Philadelphia. 313 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. CHAPTER XL Lafayette at Barren Hill The Oath of Allegiance taken by the Officers Strange Conduct of Lee Evacuation of Philadelphia Determination of Washington Battle of Monmouth and Conduct of Lee Arrival of the French Fleet Attack on New York planned Failure of the Attempt against Newport, and Displea- sure of the French Commander Massacre of Baylor's Dragoons and American Troops at Egg Harbor Destitute Condition of the Army, and Opinions of Wash- ington as to the Result of it The Army in Winter-quarters Miserable Condi- tion of Congress Sickness of Lafayette Washington Consults with Congress on the Plan of the Summer Campaign Resolves to act solely against the Indians Sullivan's Expedition Taking of Stony and Verplanck's Points Governor Tryon's Foray Successful Attack of Wayne on Stony Point Wretched state of the Currency Washington's Indignation against Speculators Count Vergen- nes' Views of Washington Suffering of the Troops in Winter-quarters at Mor- ristown The Life Guard Death of the Spanish Agent Washington partakes of the Communion in a Presbyterian Church National Bankruptcy threatened Arrival of Lafayette with the News of a large French Force having Sailed Noble Conduct of the Ladies of Philadelphia, and of Robert Morris, in Supply- ing the Soldiers with Clothing. THERE was much truth in the reply of Dr. Franklin, when told in London that Howe had taken Philadelphia, " Say, rather, that Philadelphia has taken General Howe." He had lost more than three thousand men in the attempt to reach the city, and having accomplished nothing toward the real conquest of the country, was now about to march back again. He had, in fact, been to this amazing expense, loss of soldiers, and labor, to get into quarters which he could have obtained quite as well in New York. In the meantime, Washington, in order to restrain the depredations of the British foraging parties, which were of almost daily occurrence, and to watch more narrowly the movements of Howe, sent forward Lafayette, with about two thousand men, who took post on Barren Hill, nine or ten miles from Valley Forge. This hill was across the Schuylkill, and furnished an advantageous position. A Tory Quaker, however, at whose house Lafayette had at first taken LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 319 up his head-quarters, informed Howe of the state of affairs, who immediately sent out five thousand troops to seize him. The plan was to pass along the banks of the Schuylkill, between Lafayette and the river, and while two detachments held the only two fords he could cross in his retreat to camp, a third, constituting the main body, should advance to the attack. This plan was well laid, and promised complete success. Lafayette was taken by surprise, and nearly sur- rounded before he was aware of the presence of the enemy. Only one ford lay open to him, and the column advancing to occupy it was nearer to it than he. Yet it was his last desperate resource. The road he took ran behind a forest, and was invisible to the enemy. Along this he hurried his troops, while, at the same time, he sent across the interval between him and the enemy heads of columns, which, showing themselves through the woods, deceived Grant, the British commander, and he ordered a halt and prepared for an attack. This produced a delay which enabled Lafayette to reach the ford first, and cross it in safety, while his baf- fled pursuers returned, chagrined and mortified, to Phila- delphia. Washington, who had been informed in some way of this movement, hurried forward, but as he rose a hill, he saw that he was too late. The woods and shores between him and Lafayette seemed alive with the red-coats, and the long line of gleaming bayonets that almost surrounded the American detachment, left scarcely a hope for its deliver- ance. Washington was exceedingly agitated. It was La- fayette's first essay at a separate command, and he would feel the failure of his favorite boy-general more than of his own. Besides, he could ill afford to lose two thousand men in his present condition. He watched every movement with his glass, and, at last, to his inexpressible joy and astonishment, saw Lafayette lead his swiftly-marching columns up to the ford and across it, in safety. The in- tensest excitement prevailed in camp. The danger, indeed 320 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. the almost certain overthrow, of Lafayette had been com- municated to the army, and Washington had ordered it to stand to arms, and when the former again entered Valle} 7 Forge in safety, those occupying it made it shake with their exultant shouts. A short time before the breaking up of the camp at Valley Forge, Washington, by the direction of Congress, adminis- tered the oath of allegiance to the officers of the army. The form of this oath was printed on a slip of paper, with blanks to be filled with the name and rank of the officer, to which he affixed his signature. Washington administered it to the chief officers, and Stirling, Greene and Knox to the others. To expedite the ceremony, several took the oath together. As Washington was reading it to the leading generals at the same same time, Lee, who had been ex- changed for Prescot, taken at Newport, suddenly withdrew his hand ; as quickly replacing it, he again withdrew it. Washington paused, and inquired what he meant by his hesitation. Lee replied, " As to King George, I am ready enough to absolve myself from all allegiance to him, but I have some scruples about the Prince of Wales." A roar of laughter, in which Washington himself could not help join- ing, followed this extraordinary exhibition of conscience. Howe, having completed his preparations for evacuating Philadelphia, secretly and silently stole out of the city be- fore daylight, on the 18th of June, and commenced his inland march for New York. Washington, anticipating this move- ment, had dispatched Maxwell's brigade to New Jersey, to cooperate with General Dickinson, commanding the militia of the state, in retarding the enemy. The news at length arriving of the actual departure of the British, he imme- diately ordered Arnold, still lame from the wound received at Saratoga, to occupy the city with a small detachment, while Wayne and Lee, at the head of two divisions, were directed to push rapidly across the Delaware and seize the LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 321 first strong position found on the further bank. Washing- ton, with the remainder of the troops, followed, and in six days the whole army encamped at Hopewell, five miles from Princeton. He had previously, however, sent off Morgan to hang with his six hundred riflemen on the enemy's right flank. General Scott, with fifteen hundred picked men, and Cadwallader, in command of the Jersey militia and Penn- sylvania volunteers, were afterward added, and directed to concentrate rapidly on the left flank and rear. In the meantime the motley host composing the British army, was pressing slowly forward. With its long train of baggage-wagons, horses and artillery, it stretched twelve miles along the road. The apparently interminable line was nearly half the day in passing a given point, and pre- sented a singular spectacle, with its mixture of regulars and loyalists, the whole terminating in a disorderly, boisterous, immense crowd of camp-followers. Washington had previously called a council of war, to determine whether it was best to hazard a general engage- ment. The decision was against it, which embarrassed him much, for it was clearly his wish to bring on a decisive battle. In this he was seconded strongly by Greene, La- fayette, Steuben, Wayne, Duportail, and Patterson. There is but little doubt that from the first he had determined to attack Lord Howe, for after this council he asked no one's advice, but proceeded on his own responsibility to take such measures as would make an engagement inevitable. Wayne was directed to join the divisions already pressing the enemy, while all the advance parties, numbering nearly four thousand men, were put under Lafayette, and ordered to gain the left flank. Howe had designed to march directly to Brunswick, and there embark for New York, but finding Washington in front, and not wishing, encumbered as he was, to give battle, he turned off at Allentown, and took the road leading to Monmouth Court-House and Sandy 322 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. Hook. At the latter place he expected to get his troops and baggage aboard of the ships. But finding, as he ap- proached the court-house, that the American army was steadily closing on him, he ordered the whole baggage-train to move to the front, and selecting a strong position, flanked by woods and swamps, halted. Knowing that the gallant young Lafayette, in executing the orders given him, would inevitably bring on a battle, Washington took measures to sustain him with the entire army, left under his own' im- mediate command. At this juncture Lee, whose rank enti- tled him to the command of the advance, but who had yielded it to Lafayette in disgust, because Washington paid no attention to his advice, now asked to be reinstated. Em- barrassed by this inconsistent conduct, Washington, how- ever, concluded to send him forward with two additional brigades to the aid of Lafayette, the whole to be under his own command, but with orders not to interfere with any plans which the latter had already set on foot. He, at the same time, wrote to Lafayette, explaining the unpleasant position into which this eccentric conduct of Lee had thrown him, and expressed the confidence that he would waive his right, and thus relieve him from it. It was well that the American commander had such a noble, self-sacrificing heart to appeal to, or there would have been a serious quarrel here on the very eve of an engagement. The next morning, at five o'clock, Washington, some six miles distant, was aroused by the news that the British army had recommenced its march. He immediate^ dispatched an aid to Lee with the orders to attack the enemy, " unless there should be very pow- erful reasons to the contrary." With any other commander but Lee, this would have brought on an immediate battle. Washington expected this to be the result, and immediately ordered the troops to inarch to his support. The 28th of June was one of the hottest, sultriest days of the year. It was also the Sabbath day, but the fierce mustering was not WASHINGTON URGING THE COUNTRYMAN TO GREATER 8PEKD. LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 325 to the sanctuary, nor the sounds that broke over the fields the sweet call of the church-bell to quiet worshipers. At early dawn Lee, in carrying out his orders, began to close on the enemy. Soon after, word was brought him that the whole British army was preparing to attack his division. Spurring with his staff along a causeway across a swamp, he galloped up a height beyond, on which Dickinson had drawn up his troops, and surveyed the field before him. He could not ascertain, from the conflicting reports, whether the rumor was true or false. In the meantime, Lafayette, ob- serving a false movement of a portion of the British army, hastened to Lee and asked if a successful attack could not be made there at once. " Sir," replied the latter, "you do not know British soldiers. "VVe cannot stand against them. We shall certainly be driven back at first, and must be cau- tious." The fiery Frenchman did not hold British valor in such high estimation, and replied that they had been beaten, and presumed could be beaten again. At all events he would like to make the trial. It was now perfectly evident to him that Lee did not intend to carry out Washington's orders, and seeing at that moment an aid from the latter gallop up, to obtain information, he told him aside, to say to the general that his immediate presence on the spot was of the utmost importance. In the meantime, Scott and Maxwell were moving forward in beautiful order toward the right of the enemy. Lafayette had wheeled his column, and was pressing steadily toward the left, while Wayne was descend- ing like a torrent from the heights. Lee was apparently about to second this movement, when he saw the whole British army wheel about and march back on the Middletown road, as if to fall on him in one overwhelming attack. The whole sandy plain, which, like that of Marengo, seemed made on purpose for a battle-field, was filled with marching columns, and echoed to the sound of stirring music and shouts of men. In the distance streamed the long line of baggage- 326 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. wagons, while nearer by, the glittering columns fell one after another into the order of battle, the rattling cavalry hurried forward with the blast of trumpets, and to Lee's distempered vision, he was about to be overwhelmed, while a deep morass in his rear cut off all retreat. He, therefore, immediately dispatched his aids to the different corps, with orders to fall back over the causeway, to the heights of Freehold beyond. Lafayette, stung with rage, slowly and reluctantly obeyed, while Wayne, astounded at the sudden order, could with difficulty extricate himself from the posi- tion in which this unexpected movement left him. The whole army at length repassed the morass, but Lee neglected to occupy the advantageous heights of Freehold, and con- tinued to retreat, followed by the shouting, taunting enemy. He did not even announce his retreat to Washington, and thus prepare him for an event so disastrous as the collision of one-half of the army in disorderly flight with the other half, must inevitably prove. Early in the morning, when about commencing the attack, he had dispatched a message to the commander-in-chief, briefly explaining his plans, and promising success. On the reception of this, Washington ordered Greene to march to the right of Lee, and support his flank, while he himself pressed on directly in rear. Although it was early in the morning, the heat was intense. Not a breath of air stirred the still foliage, and the round, fiery orb of day seemed to roll up a brazen sky. Washing- ton, foreseeing how severely the troops would suffer from the heat, ordered them to throw away their knapsacks and blankets. Many went still further, and stripped off their coats also, and marched in their shirt-sleeves. It was a ter- rible day, the thermometer stood at ninety-six in the shade, while the deep sand through which the panting soldiers struggled, gave still greater intensity to the heat, and hence increased immensely the pangs of thirst. But the scattered firing in front had been heard, and the army pressed for- LIFE OP WASHINGTON. 327 ward with shouts. Washington, ignorant of Lee's retreat, had dismounted where two roads met, and stood watchin^ 7 O his marching columns, when a countryman dashed into his presence and announced that Lee was in full and disorderly retreat. His countenance instantly grew dark as wrath, and with a burst of indignation he sprang into the saddle, and burying the rowels in his steed, parted from the spot like a bolt from heaven. A cloud of dust alone told the course of the fiery and indignant chieftain. Meeting the head of the first retreating column, he flung a hasty inquiry to Osgoocl, the commander, as to the cause of this retreat, who replied with an oath, " Sir, we are fleeing from a shadow" and then dashed on to the rear, and reined up with a sudden jerk beside Lee. Leaning over his saddle-bow, his face fairly blazing with concentrated passion, he demanded, in a voice of thunder, the meaning of this disorderly retreat. Stung by the overwhelming rebuke, Lee retorted angrily.* But it was no time to settle differences, and wheeling his horse, Washington spurred up to Oswald's and Stewart's regiments, and exclaimed " On you I depend to check this pursuit " He then galloped along the ranks, and roused the enthu- siasm of the soldiers to the highest pitch, till the glorious shout of " Long live Washington" rose over the din of battle and drowned the loud huzzas of the enemy. Never, even while heading a charge, did Washington's personal appear- ance and conduct inspire his troops with such wild enthu- siasm. Under the sudden excitement into which he had been thrown, and the extreme heat combined, that colorless face which so rarely gave any indication of the fires within, was now suffused, and two bright red spots burned on either cheek, while his blue eyes fairly gleamed, and seemed to * Mr. Sparks informed me that he once asked Lafayette, at Lagrange, what the language of Washington to Lee really was. Lafayette replied, that although stand- ing near to both at the time, he could not tell. Tt was not the words but the man- ner that struck so deeply. No one had ever seen Washington so terribly excited his countenance was frizntful. 328 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. emit fire. His reeking horse was flecked with foam as he dashed hither and thither, and wherever his voice reached, men stood still. The troops gazed on him with astonish- ment, and even Lafayette forgot for an instant the peril of the army, in admiration of his appearance, declaring after- ward that he thought him at that moment the handsomest man he had ever beheld. In a few minutes the whole ap- pearance of the field was changed the disorderly flying mass halted order sprung out of confusion, and right under the galling fire of the enemy's guns, the ranks wheeled and formed in perfect order. Having thus estab- lished a firm front to the enemy, Washington rode back to Lee, and exclaimed " Will you, sir, command in that place ?" " Yes," replied the latter. " Well, then, I ex- pect you to check the enemy immediately " " Your orders shall be obeyed" retorted the enraged commander ; " and I will not be the first to leave the field." The conflict then became close and severe, and Washington, trusting to the steadiness of the troops, hurried back to bring up his own division. Lee had now the main army on his hands, which pressed against him with resistless power. The artillery played on his exposed ranks, while to the sound of bugles the English light-horse charged furiously on his left. Young Hamilton watched with a beating heart the bursting storm, and fear- ing that Lee would again retreat, crossed the field on a furious gallop, and with his hat off, his hair streaming in the wind, pressed straight for the spot where he stood, and reining up beside him, exclaimed in that noble enthusiasm which that day pervading all hearts saved the army, " I will stay with you, my dear general, and die with you. Let us all die here rather than retreat." Grand and glorious words, spoken there in the din of battle, amid the whistling balls, and worthy of the hero who uttered them. Lee struggled nobly against the overwhelming numbers that pressed on LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 329 him, but was at length forced back.* So stubbornly, how- ever, did the Americans dispute every inch of ground, that when they retired from the woods the opposing ranks were intermingled. Half that gallantry two hours before would have given a glorious victory. As it was, Lee succeeded in effecting a safe retreat. At this critical moment Washington arrived with the other division, which came up on almost a trot, and panting with thirst and heat. Hastily ordering up Greene on the right, and Stirling on the left, he himself led the centre full on the enemy. Stirling brought up Lieutenant Carrington's artillery on a full gallop, and unlimbering them with aston- ishing rapidity, opened a terrible fire on the advancing columns. Lee rode up to Washington, saying coldly, " Sir, here are' my troops ; how is it your pleasure I should dis- pose of them ?" Between the exhausting heat and their fierce conflict, they were completely beaten out, and Wash- ington ordered them to the rear of Englishtown, while he led on the battle with the fresh troops. The victorious enemy, pressing eagerly after Lee, came suddenly on the second line, now formed, and, flushed with success, bore steadily down on the centre. But here was Washington, around whom the troops gathered with invincible resolution and dauntless hearts, while Wayne, from a hill crowned by an orchard, rained a tempest of balls on the advancing columns. Hurled back by the steady volleys, the latter then moved almost simultaneously against the right and * It was during this part of the battle that an Irishman, while serving his gun, was shot down. His wife, named Molly, only twenty-two years of age, employed herself, while he loaded and fired his piece, in bringing water from a spring near by. While returning with a supply, she saw him fall, and heard the officer in command order the gun to be taken to the rear. She immediately ran forward, seized the rammer, declaring she would avenge his death. She fonght her piece like a hero to the last. The next morning, Greene, who had been struck with her bravery, presented her to Washington, who immediately promoted her to' a ser- geant, and afterward had her name put on the half-pay list for life. Previous to this she fired the last gun when the Americans were driven from Fort Montgomery. 330 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. left flanks of the Americans, but were immediately scourged back by Knox's heavy guns and the fierce fire of Stirling's battery. All this time Wayne kept firing with such deadly precision on the British centre that every attempt to charge proved abortive. Again and again the royal grenadiers moved forward in splendid order, and with a resolute aspect, but were as often compelled to retire from the close range of the American fire. Col. Monckton, their leader, saw at once that no progress could be made till Wayne was driven from that orchard, and riding along the ranks of his brave grenadiers, aroused their courage by his stirring appeals. He then formed them in a solid column, and shouted "for- ward /" Moving swiftly forward at the charge step, but with the regularity and steadiness of a single wave, they swept up the slope. Wayne, the moment he detected the movement, ordered his men to reserve their fire till the column came within close range, and then aim at the officers. The grenadiers kept steadily on till they arrived within a few rods of the silent Americans, when Monckton waving his sword over his head shouted, " CHARGE !" At the same moment the order " Fire" ran along the ranks of Wayne. A deadly volley followed, and nearly every British officer bit the dust, and among them the gallant Monckton. A close, fierce struggle ensued over his dead body, but the Americans finally bore it off in triumph. Wayne now bore steadily down on the centre, while the shouts of his excited troops were heard in the intervals of the heavy explosions of artillery as they bore the strong battalions fiercely back. Their march was like the step of fate, and they crowded the astonished enemy to the head of the causeway, and across it into the woods beyond. All this time Morgan with his brave riflemen lay at Rich- mond .Mills, only three miles from Monmouth Court-House, waiting for orders. This iron-hearted commander, a host in himself had his men drawn up in inarching order, and as LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 331 the heavy and constant explosions of cannon rolled by, fol- lowed by the sharp rattle of musketry, he paced backward and forward in the road, a prey to the most intense excite- ment. His eager eye sought in vain to catch the form of a swift rider, bearing the order to move forward. All day long he chafed like an imprisoned lion, yet, strange to saj^, his existence seemed to have been forgotten in the sudden excitement and danger that followed Lee's mad retreat. Had he been allowed to fall with his fresh troops on the British rear, he would have broken them to pieces. The scorching Sabbath day was now drawing to a close, and as the blood-red sun sunk in the west, the whole British army retreated, and took up a strong position on the spot occupied by Lee in the morning. Woods and swamps were on either side, while the only causeway over which troops could approach was swept by heavy batteries. Washington rode up and scrutinized the position long and anxiously. His strong frame had been tasked to the utmost, and as he sat on his exhausted steed and cast his eye over his gallant army, he saw that heat a*ad thirst had waged a more terrible conflict with them than the balls of the enemy. On every side arose the most piteous cries for water, and the well were hardly able to carry the wounded to the rear, while scores lay dead amid the sand, untouched by the foe. The battle seemed over for the night, but Washington, stung and mortified at the unpardonable errors and consequent misfor- tunes of the day, determined to rest with nothing short of a complete victory. He, therefore, brought up the two brigades of Poor and Woodford, and ordered them to force their way through the woods to the right and left flanks of the enemy, while he hurried the heavy cannon of Knox to the. front. In a few minutes the heavy batteries on both sides opened. But the two brigades found so many ob- stacles obstructing the way, and delaying their progress, that night came on before they could reach their posts. The 18 332 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. attack was then abandoned ; the bugles sounded the recall of the advance parties, the heavy firing ceased, and nothing but the moans of the wounded and heavy tread of the bat- talions taking up their position for. the night, broke the stillness of the Sabbath evening. The fainting army laid down to rest on the heated plain, in the full expectation of another battle in the morning. Washington stretched him- self in his mantle, and the young Lafayette, feeling deeply for the disappointment under which he knew him to be suf- fering, stole quietly to his side. Washington wrapped him affectionately in his mantle, and the two tired heroes slept together under the open sky. The British commander, however, had no intention of risking another battle, and so, at midnight, quietly aroused his slumbering army, and hurried away from the spot that had so nearly Avitnessed his overthrow. The morning drum roused up the American army at dawn, but no answering sound came from the enemy's camp. The moment Wash- ington was informed that they had fled, he sent on officers to ascertain what distance the army had reached. He found, to his great disappointment, that it had gained a march of nearly nine miles, and with its long train of baggage- wagons and artillery, was streaming swiftly along the road toward Sandy Hook. Feeling that his troops were too ex- hausted to overtake them, he gave up the pursuit. The American loss in this battle was in all, killed, wounded and missing, three hundred and fifty-eight ; some of the latter, however, afterward rejoined the army. The British left two hundred and fifty on the field. Many they had buried during the night, and a large number of those not badly wounded accompanied the army in its flight, so that their loss was never ascertained. Fifty-nine lay dead with- out a wound upon their persons. Several hundred took occasion, during this battle and the march, to desert, and returned to Philadelphia and to the sweethearts they loved LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 333 better than their country's service, and others remained in New Jersey, so that the enemy was weakened in all proba- bly not less than two thousand men. This, though a less bloody one, was one of the most re- markable battles in the Revolution, and fixed the turning point in the history of the army. The rally of the troops while in full retreat, the steady formation of the lines under the blaze of the enemy's guns, and after victorious assaults, were achievements worthy of the most veteran troops, and reflected honor on their teacher Steuben. Hamilton, who had been accustomed only to the movements of militia, was filled with admiration at the spectacle, and said he never before knew the value of discipline. From that time on, the regulars relied much on the bayonet, and the British grenadiers saw with amazement themselves beaten with their favorite weapon. Though justly indignant with Lee for thus robbing him of victory, Washington immediately reinstated him in his old command. Lee, however, was not content with this, and wrote the latter an impertinent letter, to which a cold and curt reply was made. Enraged at this second attack, as he deemed it, on his honor and character, he wrote a still more insolent letter, which brought down the charge from his commander of being " guilty of a breach of orders, and of misbehavior before the enemy, and in making an unne- cessary, disorderly and shameful retreat." Lee's answer to this severe accusation was so insulting that he was imme- diately placed under arrest. His after trial and suspension from the army are well known. The army being recruited, Washington moved by easy marches to the Hudson, and crossing at King's Ferry, en- camped near White Plains. In the meantime he had heard of the arrival on the coast of the French fleet, composed of twelve ships of the line and four frigates, under Count D' Estaing. He immediately dispatched a latter of congratu- 334 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. lation by his aid, Colonel Laurens, to the count. Soon after, on being informed that the fleet had reached Sandy Hook, he sent Colonel Hamilton to consult with him on the best course to pursue. It was at first hoped that a combined attack, by sea and land, could be made on New York, but the pilots reporting that it would be impossible to take the heavy ships over the bar, the enterprise was abandoned. Philadelphia being evacuated, there seemed now no direc- tion in which the fl ee t an ^ army could cooperate except Rhode Island. There was a garrison of six or seven thou- sand British at Newport, and it was therefore resolved that Sullivan should proceed thither with five thousand men, followed by Lafayette with two brigades, while the vessels would proceed by sea. But ' the delay caused by the want of troops proved disastrous to the expedition. Sullivan, however, succeeded at length in gathering an army of ten thousand men, and proceeded to bes'.ege the place, while the French fleet came steadily up the channel, past the English batteries. Every thing now promised an easy victory, when the fleet of Lord Howe was seen hovering in the distance. D'Estaing immediately put to sea to engage it. But a vio- lent storm suddenly arose, disabling both fleets, and com- pelling the English vessels to return to New York for repairs, while those of the French came limping back to Newport. Sullivan's hopes again revived, but the French admiral, deaf to all appeals, would not cooperate with him, declaring his orders were, in case of any damage to repair to Boston and refit. Sullivan, enraged' at what he con- sidered pusillanimous conduct, sent the count a fierce remon- strance. This only made matters worse, and the fleet took its departure for Boston, and the enterprise was abandoned. The ill will caused by this protest of Sullivan annoyed Washington exceedingly, and he took unwearied pains to heal the breach that had been made. He wrote to Lafay- ette to act as mediator, saying, " Let me beseech you to SIGHT ATTACK AT PAOH. LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 337 afford a healing hand to the wound that has been uninten- tionally made. America esteems your virtues and your services, and admires the principles on which you act. Your countrymen in our army look up to you as their pattern. The count and his officers consider you as a man high in rank, and high in estimation here, and also in France, and I, your friend, have no doubt but you will use your utmost endeavors to restore harmony, that the honor, glory, and mutual interest of the two nations may be promoted and cemented in the firmest manner." Lafayette needed no greater stimulus to action than the wishes of Washington, and he put forth unwearied efforts till harmony was restored. There being a suspicion that the British might plan an expedition to the east, for the purpose of attacking the French fleet, and perhaps Boston, Washington took post at Fredericksburg, near the Connecticut line, and commenced repairing the roads as far as Hartford, so that the army could march without impediment. Gates was sent, also, to take command at Boston, in place of Heath. This almost entire withdrawal of the troops east of the Hudson, left the smaller detachments which remained on the other side, much exposed, and provoked the attacks of the British. One party fell on Major Baylor's dragoons, located near Tappan, surprising and massacreing them without mercy. A similar attempt was made on Pulaski's legion, stationed at Egg Harbor, where privateers were being fitted out, and, through the villany of a deserter, met with, like success. For four months the army lay comparatively idle, wait- ing the further movements of the British.. In the mean- time Washington became very solicitous about the future. The want of funds in the treasury, together with the high price of food and clothing,, seemed to threaten greater evils than mere physical exposure and suffering. The officers could not live on their pay, and Congress was without means 338 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. to raise it, while discontent and loud complaints pervaded the army. In a letter to Gouverneur Morris, replying to certain inquiries, he says " Can we carry on the war much longer ? Certainly not, unless some measures can be de- vised, .and speedily, to restore the credit of our currency, restrain extortion, and punish forestallers. Unless these can b-3 effected, what funds can stand the present expenses of the army ? And what officer can bear the weight of prices that every necessary article is now got to ? A rat in the shape of a horse is not to be bought at this time for less than two hundred pounds, nor a saddle under thirty or forty ; boots twenty, and shoes, and other articles in pro- portion. How is it possible, therefore, for officers to stand this without an increase of pay ? And how is it possible to advance their pay when flour is selling at different places from five to fifteen pounds per hundred weight ; hay from ten to thirty pounds per ton, and beef and other essentials in this proportion." It was plain that this state of things could not last. The officers, wholly unable to meet their necessary expenses, would inevitably become bankrupt. During this summer a project was set on foot for the invasion of Canada by the allied armies, assisted by the fleet, but it met with Washington's decided opposition, and was finally abandoned. Autumn closed without any expedition of importance being undertaken, and the army retired to winter-quarters. The artillery was taken to Pluckemin, while the troops stretched in a line of cantonments from Long Island Sound to the Delaware. Head quarters were at Middlebrook, where were stationed, also, seven brigades. One brigade was at Elizabethtown, another near Smith's Close, to act as a reinforcement in case of need to West Point ; and one at West Point. There were, also, two brigades at the Con- tinental village, situated between West Point and Fishkill, and three near Danbury, Connecticut. Thus the enemy in LIFE OF .WASHINGTON. 339 New York were confined to a small space for action, while our troops, by reaching over so large a territory, could more easily obtain forage. Putnam was at Danbury, and McDou- gall in the Highlands, while Lincoln was sent to take com- mand at Charleston, to repel any attack the British might make on that city during the winter. Of the four regi- ments of cavalry, one was in each of the States of Virginia, Maryland, Pennsylvania, and Connecticut. The vexed question of exchange of prisoners again came up, and Washington was much annoyed at the difficulties thrown in the way of its final adjustment. But the greatest cause of distress and anxiety was the contemptible condition to which Congress was reduced. During the whole year it averaged not more than thirty members. Says Sparks : " Whole States were frequently unrepresented ; and, indeed, it was seldom that every State was so fully represented as to entitle it to a vote." But although so feeble in numbers, it was still feebler in intellect. There were but few even second-rate men among the members. Still its feebleness both in numbers and intellect, was not the worst features it exhibited. It had descended to a mere political arena, where private jealousies, and party feuds fought their bat- tles, reckless alike of the great struggle without, or the wel- fare of the country, except so far as they affected their selfish ends. Perhaps it is not to be regretted that its jour- nals were destroyed, and the history of our country saved from so great a blemish as the record of its acts would have been. The views and feelings of Washington on the sub- ject are exhibited in a letter to Benjamin Harrison, of Vir- ginia. In that he declared without hesitation, that he thought the separate States should " compel their ablest men to attend Congress." He said they were too busy with their individual concerns, but if the whole government should continue to be mismanaged, they, too, would "sink in the general wreck, which w'll carry with it the remorse of 340 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. thinking that we are lost by our own folly and negligence." " The public," he said, " believed that the States at this time are badly represented, and that the great and impor- tant concerns of the nation are horribly conducted, for want either of abilities or application in the members, or through the discord and party views of some individuals." It was plain that without some change in the administration of the national affairs the Revolution, with all its momentous in- terests, must end in utter failure. While Washington remained at head-quarters, Lafayette arrived at Fishkill, on his way to Boston, previous to em- barking for France. Here he fell sick. His journey from Philadelphia, in the midst of severe storms, had brought on an inflammatory fever, which carried him to the verge of the grave. His life was despaired of, and the whole army was in mourning. Washington immediately repaired to his bedside, and watched over him with the solicitude and fond- ness of a father. The young marquis was deeply affected by this attention, and carried the remembrance of it with gratitude and affection to his grave. The army being well hutted, and things comparatively quiet, Washington proceeded to Philadelphia, to consult with Congress on the best means to be adopted. He proposed three plans. First, to operate against the enemy on the sea-coast. The second to attack Niagara, and the British forces in that region, and the third to remain entirely on the defensive against the British, and act only against the Indians, who had grown bold by their impunity. The lat- ter was resolved upon as giving repose to the country, and at the same time permitting a retrenchment in the expenses of the war, and restoring the currency, which was now in a shocking condition. The evils growing out of an army unemployed, and also of such a tacit confession of weakness, Washington thought would be overbalanced by the relief from military exaction, and by the fact that the alliance LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 341 with France, and the threatened war of Spain with England would tend more to secure the acknowledgment of our in- dependence, than victories. If he had consulted personal ambition, he would not have consented to idleness, which is always dangerous to a commander's reputation. Having completed his arrangements with Congress, he returned to Middlebrook. The army was consequently re- duced, and more attention paid to its discipline, which was entrusted to Steuben. In the meantime the expedition re- solved upon against the Indians, was set on foot. The Six Nations, with the exception of the Oneidas, and a few of the Mohawks, had joined the English, and, assisted by the Tories, kept the New York frontiers drenched in blood. The tragedies which were enacted at Cherry Valley and Wy- oming, with all their heart-sickening details and bloody pas- sages, were fresh in the recollection of every one. The Six Nations were spread along the Susquehanna, and around our inland lakes, extending as far as the Genesee Flats. The plan adopted by Washington was, to have Sullivan, with three thousand men, start from Wyoming, and advance, up the Susquehanna, while General James Clinton, with one brigade, should ascend the Mohawk, and form a junction with the former wherever he should direct. Sullivan left Wyoming the last day of July, and did not return till the middle of October. He traversed the solitudes as far as Genesee river, burning and laying waste the towns and villages, and rich fields of grain ; moving like a devastating scourge over the land, and inflicting a punishment on the Indian tribes, which they never forgot. While Sullivan's army was thus feeling its waj through the wilderness, Sir Henry Clinton, with a large body of troops ascended the Hudson, for the purpose of attacking Verplanck's Point and Stony Point, standing opposite each other, and, if possible, force his way through the Highlands. But Washington, being apprised of his designs, hurried off 342 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. couriers to the different brigades in New Jersey, and soon their tread along the banks of the Hudson convinced Clin- ton that it would be a desperate undertaking to attempt to force the strong passes above, while so well guarded. He, however, took possession of the two points, which were fee- bly manned, and leaving strong garrisons in each, returned to New York. Washington then removed his head-quarters to New Windsor, a few miles above the gorge of the High- lands, and looking directly on West Point, while his army swarmed the forest-clad shores on either side, watching with anxious care this gateway of the State. Having thus drawn the forces under Washington into the Highlands, Clinton made a sudden incursion into Connecti- cut, hoping to tempt him thither also, where a more open country would make a battle less hazardous. Governor Tryon, with two thousand men, sailed up Long Island Sound, and plundered New Haven. He then returned to Fairfield and Norwalk, and burnt them to the ground. No public stores were at either of these places, and the whole expedition was simply to pillage and to burn the dwellings of peaceful citizens. It was the unexpected irruption of a band of robbers, and the atrocities committed inflicted a lasting disgrace on the name of Tryon, and covered Sir Henry Clinton with infamy. This attempt to entice Wash- ington away from his stronghold proved abortive. It, how- ever, broke up his plan of not acting on the offensive, and he determined to strike a blow which, while it inflicted a severe chastisement on the enemy, should at. the same time hush the complaints against his inaction. This blow was no less than the recapture of Stony and Verplanck's Points, with all their stores and armaments. It was his purpose at first to assail them both the same night, but this he after- ward abandoned, and concluded only to make a feint on the garrison at the latter place, to distract it from the attack on the former. To prevent miscarriage, through want of LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 343 information, he carefully reconnoitered the place himself, and directed Major Henry Lee, who commanded a body of cavalry in the neighborhood, to ascertain accurately the condition of the fortress, and strength of the garrison. This being done, he called no council of war, consulted none of his officers, but having fixed on Wayne as the proper person to take charge of the hazardous enterprise, sent for him, and explained to him his plans. Wayne at first seemed doubtful of success, but was ready to attempt any thing on Washington's request. To prevent any information of the project reaching the enemy, Washington communicated it to no one but Wayne, and one member of his family. The night before the attack, however, he sent for Colonel Rufus Putnam, and took him into the secret, because he wished him to make the false attack on Verplanck's Point. Stony Point was considered almost impregnable to any storming party, it being washed on two sides by the Hud- son, while on the other lay a morass, which was overflowed at high water. Beside's these natural defenses, a double row of abattis surrounded the hill, the whole surmounted by the fortress, itself garrisoned by six hundred men, and bristling with cannon. Washington, fully aware of the peril of the undertaking, drafted every officer and soldier himself, and a more splendid body of men never moved un- flinchingly up to the cannon's mouth. On the night of the 15th July, Wayne set out with his command, and at eleven o'clock reached the morass, which he found covered with two feet of water. The word " halt" then passed in a whisper down the line, and the whole stood to their arms while he and some of the officers reconnoitered. It was resolved to make the attack in two columns, and on both sides at once. Every musket of the advance parties was unloaded, and at the word forward, they, with shoul- dered pieces, plunged into the water, and pushed swiftly toward the heights. The sentinels on watch immediately 344 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. gave the alarm, the shout of " to arms !" " to arms /" and roll of drums rang along the hill, and in a moment that lofty rock was in a blaze, and raining a fiery deluge on Wayne's columns. But nothing could shake their steady courage. Through the iron sleet, over their own dead, over the abattis and up the steep acclivity, they pressed sternly on, the only sound heard in their otherwise silent ranks being the high and ringing order "forward," "forward," of the officers. Their tread was like the march of destiny, and bearing down every obstacle, both columns entered the fort together, and as they met, the shout of victory rose wildly to the midnight heavens. It was gallantly, gloriously done. Wayne had a narrow escape. A musket-ball grazed the top of his head, and brought him to his knees. " March en" he shouted ' carry me into the fort. I will die at the head of my column." Next sunrise the morning- gun was fired by an American hand, and carried consternation to the English ships below. The land rung with acclamations. Wayne was overwhelmed with compliments, and his name was in every one's mouth. It was the most brilliant ex- ploit during the war, and would have covered the veterans of a hundred battles with glory. Washington went up to the fortress after the capture and examined ^it. Finding that it would require too many men to hold it against the force which the enemy could bring against it, by means of their fleet, he ordered the works to be destroyed. Lee's subsequent daring and successful attack at Paulus Hook, with his dismounted dragoons, was a repe- tition of the affair at Stony Point, and added fresh laurels to those which already adorned that noble officer's head. With these brilliant exceptions, the army under Washington re- mained for the most part quiet. He employed this season of comparative inaction in corresponding with Congress, and other distinguished men, on the affairs of the country, especially on the state of the currency. Congress continued LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 345 to issue its worthless paper to such an extent, that by the following spring two hundred million of dollars were found to be afloat, and not one dollar redeemable. So low had this paper depreciated, that forty dollars of it, at that time, was equivalent to only one dollar in coin. This state of the currency was ruinous to every class of inhabitants, but on none did it fall so heavily as the soldiers and officers. As money sunk prices rose, and the officers were compelled to pay double for every thing, so that many resigned to escape beggary. " It was no uncommon thing to give a month's pay for a breakfast," said Colonel, afterward General, Wil- liam Hull. He himself gave eleven thousand two hundred and fifty dollars for a chaise with a double harness. Added to this, speculators who had funds would buy up any article which they ascertained would soon be in demand, and thus exhaust the market, and then lay their own prices. These things aroused the indignation of Washington, and troubled him exceedingly. He declared that he was not afraid of the enemy's arms, but of this prostrate currency, and utter want of patriotism. He reasoned, he expostulated, he appealed. He plead not only for the living, but for the " unborn mil- lions," whose fate this struggle was to effect. " Shall," he exclaimed, " a few designing men, for their own aggran- dizement, and to gratify their own avarice, overset the goodly fabric we have been rearing at the expense of so much time, blood and treasure ? And shall we at last be- come the victims of our own lust of gain ? Forbid it Heaven !" He found, also, cause of annoyance in the un- ceasing assassin-like attacks of Gates, and the more bold, open and malevolent assaults of Lee, who pursued him with such relentless fury that the name of Washington became the " moon of his madness." The French minister, Gerard, who accompanied Count D'Estaing, came to camp this summer, and had long con- sultations with Washington, and formed various plans for 346 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. the future. His letter to Count Vergennes at this time, shows that he was as much impressed by Washington's pre- sence and greatness of intellect as others. That impalpable influence and grandeur, which it has been found impossible to convey an idea of through language, affected all alike, from the most accomplished noblemen of Europe to the wild Indian of our own forests. As winter approached, head-quarters were established at Morristown, and the army, pitching its tents on the southern slope of Kimble's Mountain, commenced building huts. The cavalry was sent to Connecticut, while strong detachments guarded the passes of the Hudson. Clinton finding himself so closely watched, and constantly thwarted in any move- ments around New York, resolved on an expedition to the South, and at the latter end of December set sail for Charles- ton, with seven thousand troops. Washington, during the winter occupied the house of Widow Ford, to which he in February added two log build- ings. In a meadow at a short distance from the dwelling, between forty and fifty huts were erected for the Life Guard, numbering at this time two hundred and fifty. It was in this meadow Pulaski drilled his legion, and performed those daring and extraordinary feats of horsemanship for which he was celebrated. The winter set in excessively cold nothing like it had ever been experienced in this country. The ice in New York Bay was frozen so solid that heavy artillery and troops crossed from the city to Staten Island. The sufferings of the troops were consequently severe. The snow averaged from four to six feet deep on a level, obstruct- ing the roads and keeping back provisions from camp, so that the half frozen soldiers would sometimes go a week without meat of any kind, and then again without bread. All through January this half-starved army was protected only by tents, and with nothing but straw between them and the frozen ground, and a single blanket to cover them. ATTACK OX F K T M I F F L I X , LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 319 Human nature could not bear up against such protracted sufferings, and desertions and plunder of private property became frequent. Washington, all this time, had not a kitchen to cook his dinner in, although his guards had put up the logs of one for him. His family consisted of eighteen, which, with that of Mrs. Ford, were " all crowded together in her kitchen, and scarce one of them able to speak for the colds they had caught." Washington crowded into a kitchen with more than twenty others, for two months, without salary, without reward of any kind, and struggling with a selfish Congress, and compelled to defend the purity of his motives from the aspersions of those for whose benefit he is laboring, is a study for a patriot. During this extreme cold weather, Lord Stirling took fifteen hundred men in sleds and crossed the ice at midnight, from Elizabethtown to Staten Island, to surprise the British. The latter had, however, got wind of the expedition, and the troops returned with only a few prisoners, some blankets and stores as trophies. One third of this detachment had some parts of their persons frozen, and were more or less seriously injured. A sort of partisan warfare was maintained all winter, keeping the camp in a constant state of watch- fulness. As an illustration of the duties of the Life Guard, it was their habit during this winter, at the first discharge of guns along the line of sentinels, to rush into Washing- ton's house, barricade the doors, throw up the windows, and stand five to a window, with muskets cocked and brought to a charge. On some mere foolish alarm, Washington's wife and Mrs. Ford would often be compelled to lie shiver- ing within their bed-curtains till the cause of it could be ascertained. The Chevalier de Luzerne, who had succeeded Gerard as minister, visited Washington in camp, as he had previously done at West Point. The cheerful manner with which he, 350 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. from the first, accepted the poor fare and miserable accom- modations offered him, had won the good-will and respect of both officers and men. Spain having also at last declared war against England, our prospects grew still brighter, and a Spanish agent, though not an accredited one, named Mi- ralles, accompanied Luzerne to look after the interests of his government in the south. He died this winter at Morris- town, and was buried with distinguished honors, Washing- ton and the principal officers appearing as chief mourners. To prevent any one from reopening the grave, to obtain possession of the diamonds and jewels that were buried with him, a guard was placed over it till the body could be taken to Philadelphia for interment. It was while encamped here that the following incident occurred, illustrating Washington's religious character. On hearing that the sacrament of the Lord's Supper was to be administered in the Presbyterian church, the following Sun- day, he called on the pastor, Dr. Jones, and inquired if they allowed the communicants of other churches to unite with them in the service. " Most certainly," replied the doctor, " ours is not a Presbyterian table, but the Lord's table, general, and hence we give the Lord's invitation to all his followers of whatever name." Washington replied that he was glad of it that so it should be, and next Sunday was seen seated among the communicants. Unsullied by his camp life, with not a stain on his blade, he could go from the battle-field to the communion-table, as well as to his closet in the wintry forest. The subject of the exchange of prisoners being again pre- sented by the British commander, the French minister was very solicitous that Washington should not consent to any but the most favorable terms ; urging the double motive that the British government now found it hard to replenish the army from Germany, and needed men badly, and, also, that it was of the utmost importance to insist on a perfect LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 351 equality in all things, not only for our own sake at home, but from the effect of such a position abroad. During this winter the finances of the country reached their lowest ebb, and national bankruptcy seemed inevitable. Lotteries for loans, laws making paper a legal tender, -and every substitute only plunged the nation into deeper diffi- culties. Every measure calculated to bring relief was seizerl on by speculators, to advance their own interests, and thus added to the embarrassment already existing. Washington became so indignant at this villany of " forestdlers" as he called them, or mere speculators, that in a letter to Read, he said " I would to Go:l that some of the more atrocious in each State were hung in gibbets, upon a gallows four times as high as the one prepared for Haman." The British and loyalists saw the dilemma into which the government had fallen, and increased it by issuing large quantities of forged paper. They felt and said that unless we could ob- tain a foreign loan, which they did not believe possible, " unless all the moneyed nations had turned fools," we must inevitably go to the wall. No more battles were needed ; bankruptcy would finish the rebellion. Washington had all along predicted such a crisis, and now, with other patriots, looked gloomily into that gloomiest of all gulfs in time of war, a bankrupt treasury, At the beginning of April the army consisted of only ten thousand four hundred men. This number was soon after still more reduced, by sending off reinforcements to the South, where now was the chief theatre of the war. To enliven a little the gloom that at this time encom- passed the struggle for liberty, Lafayette, the untiring friend and resistless pleader for the American cause, arrived with the cheerful intelligence that the French government had sent six ships-of-the-line, and six thousand troops, which would soon be on our coast. He landed at Boston amid public rejoicing, but locked up the glad tidings he bore, till 19 352 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. he could pour them forth to the man he loved better than his life. The meeting of Washington and Lafayette was like that of a son and father. The eager delight with which the one recounted what he had done, and told of the aid that was approaching, and the deep and affectionate interest with which the other listened, would form a subject for a noble picture. The marquis had obtained the promise of large supplies of clothing, while he had purchased on his own account, a quantity of swords and military equipage for the light-infantry he commanded. In speaking in council one day, of the enthusiasm and impetuosity of Lafayette, the Prime Minister of France, old Count de Maurepas, remarked " It is fortunate for the king that Lafayette did not take it into his head to strip Versailles of its furniture, to send to his dear Americans, as his majesty would be unable to refuse it." How little the governments of France and Spain dreamed what a train they were laying under their own thrones, when they came to our relief in the struggle for independence. There never has been a more striking illustration of the folly of human scheming, and of the ease with which Heaven works out its grand designs, over all earthly mutations, as the ultimate result of our success on the destiny of Europe. As the summer advanced, the destitution of the troops in the article of clothing became an object of the deepest soli- citude. Many of the officers looked like beggars, while the tattered soldiers, most of them, had not a shirt to their backs. Congress being apparently unable to do any thing, private sympathy was invoked. The ladies of Philadel- phia, from the highest to the lowest, met together to make garments for the soldiers. Lafayette gave a hundred guineas in the name of his wife. The wife of the French minister six hundred dollars of continental paper. Like the heroines of old, the women sacrificed their jewelry, and labored as common seamstresses in the noble work. Twenty- .LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 353 two hundred shirts were thus made, each bearing the name of the maker. A ship load of military stores and clothing, belonging to Robert Morris, arriving about this time, this noble financier immediately made a present of the whole to the army. Such flashes of light shot through the gloom, keeping alive the faith, and love, and courage of those on whose shoulders the Revolution rested. 354 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. CHAPTER XII. Fall of Charleston Arrival of the French Fleet Defeat of Gates Washington visits Rochainbeau Treason of Arnold Arrest of Andre His Execution Cornwallis in the South Project of an Attack on New York Suffering of the Troops Mutiny in Wayne's Command Mutiny of the New Jersey Troops, and prompt action of Washington Inefficiency of Congress, and Jealousies of the States Arnold's Expedition into Virginia Action between the English and French Fleets Lafayette sent South to cooperate with Steuben Operations in Virginia Washington's Letter to the Manager of his Estate State of the Anny Letter to Paul Jones Patriotism of Robert Morris Washington prepares to Attack New York Cornwallis Retreats before Lafayette to Yorktown The Allied Army marches rapidly South Washington visits Mount Vernon Arrival of the French Fleet in the Chesapeake Anxiety of Washington Yorktown Invested Progress and Incidents of the Siege Capitulation of the Arniy Excitement and Joy of the American People Effect of the News on the British Ministry. WASHINGTON remained comparatively inactive during the summer, waiting the arrival of the French fleet and army. Nothing could be done with his feeble force, unsustained by a fleet, except to hold the country around New York. In the meantime his heart was filled with the deepest solicitude for the fate of Charleston and the army under Lincoln, which occupied it. Hemmed in by the enemy, whose shot and shells fell with an incessant crash into the dwellings of the inhabitants, this intrepid commander, who had held out long after hope had abandoned every heart, was at last compelled with his three thousand troops to surrender. A dark cloud was resting on the South ; and that portion of the country which had hitherto escaped the ravages of an army, seemed now marked out for general devastation. In the meantime, the French fleet arrived (July 10) at Newport. Rochainbeau, the commander of the land forces, was required by his government to act in all cases under the direction of Washington, while American officers were to command French officers of equal rank. This wise arrangement produced harmony between the two armies, LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 355 and gave universal satisfaction. Washington immediately drew up a plan for a combined attack on New York by sea and land. But the British fleet having received a rein- forcement which gave it a decided superiority, the French squadron dared not put to sea, and remained blockaded in Newport. There also the French army remained for its protection, waiting the arrival of the other division of the fleet* and land forces, and the summer passed away without any thing being accomplished. In the place of success, there came the news of successive defeats at the South. The fall of Charleston in May was followed in August by the complete overthrow of Gates, at Camden the loss of many noble troops and the death of Baron de Kalb. While in this state of inaction Rochambeau wrote to Washington, requesting an interview. This was granted, and the latter passing through Peekskill, met the former on the 21st, at Hartford. Before starting he had written to Arnold, commanding at West Point, to sond a guard of fifty men to meet him at Peekskill, and collect forage for about forty horses. Arnold came down the river in his barge, and crossed the river with him at King's Ferry. The English vessel Vul- ture was in sight, and' Washington scanned it long and carefully with his glass, and spoke at the same time, in a low tone, to one of his officers. This made Arnold very uneasy. Soon after, Lafayette, turning to Arnold, said, " General, as you have secret correspondence with the ene- my, you must learn what has become of Guichen."f For a moment the traitor thought himself discovered, and de- manded, sharply, what the marquis meant. The next * This was blockaded in Brest, and never arrived. t Guichen was the commander of the other portion of the French fleet, which had for a long time been expected, but which at this time was blockaded at Brest. 356 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. minute, however, the boat touched the shoce and nothing more was said. Washington's visit to Rochambeau resulted in no plan of action, as every thing depended on the arrival of the ex- pected fleet and forces. After two days of pleasant intercourse, he started on his return, taking the upper route by way of Fishkill, so as to visit West Point. In the meantime, Arnold had completed his scheme, by which a blow was to be struck, against the colonies so momentous in all the circumstances attending it, and in the results designed to be accomplished, that even its failure fell like a thunderbolt at noon-day on the nation. This intrepid commander, who had won such laurels before Quebec, on Lake Champlain, and at Saratoga, sought and obtained the important command at West Point solely to deliver it into the hands of the enemy. Incensed at the injustice of Congress in promoting juniors over him, mad- dened by the accusations of his enemies, and mortified by the reprimand ordered to be administered by a court-martial ; he, with a baseness almost unparalleled in history, resolved to quench his rage in the ruin of his country. Down the abyss of infamy into which he was about to plunge, he gazed without flinching, hurried forward by the single in- tense, burning passion for revenge. He had long been in correspondence with Sir Henry Clinton for the delivery of West Point, and the absence of Washington to the east, was thought to be a favorable time to effect his object. Major Andre, under the name of Anderson, had been the medium through which the correspondence was carried on, and he was, therefore, selected to consummate and close the bargain. He proceeded up the river with the intention of having an interview with Arnold, on board the British vessel Vulture. But difficulties being thrown in the way of this arrange- ment, he was finally induced to consent to go ashore. After LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 357 midnight, on the morning of the 22d of September, he step- ped into the boat sent by Arnold to receive him, and over the unruffled, placid bosom of the Hudson, glittering with reflected stars, was rowed silently and swiftly to the shore. Arnold met him on the bank, and the two retired to a thick wood, and there, amid the darkness and silence, discussed in low tones the treason and the reward. It was Andre's in- tention to retire on board the Vulture, but not being able to conclude the business by daylight, he was persuaded by Arnold to go with him to his quarters at Smith's house. He had been directed by Sir Henry Clinton not to enter our lines or assume any disguise. He, however, now under the change of circumstances, did both, and thus at once became a spy, and exposed to the doom of one. During the day, Colonel Livingston opened a sharp fire on the Vulture, which compelled her to drop down the river. Andre listened to the cannonading with visible emotion, but on its cessation resumed his composure. By ten o'clock the arrangement was completed, and Arnold returned in his barge to West Point. Andre passed the day alone, gloomily. Although he had at great peril consummated an arrangement which would secure a vast advantage to his king, and promotion and glory to himself, yet he could not but reflect that he was surrounded by enemies, and held concealed about his person the evidences of his character as a spy. He had been supplied by Arnold with two passports, one to the ship and another for the land route, should he be compelled to take the latter. Smith, who had brought him ashore, re- mained with him to take him back. Late in the afternoon, however, Andre ascertained, to his dismay, that Smith would not row him aboard the Vulture. He stubbornly resisted all appeals, and Andre was compelled to choose the land route. Accompanied by Smith and a negro boy he set out soon after sunset for King's Ferry. As they passed leisurely along the country, Smith would often stop to converse with 358 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. acquaintances by the way, but Andre, taciturn and gloomy, kept slowly on. The hostile tone of the conversation, and the many eager inquiries put to Smith, naturally kept him in a state of intense anxiety. About nine o'clock they were hailed by the sentinel of a patrolling party commanded by Captain Boyd. The latter was unusually pressing in his inquiries of Smith, and urged him with great importunity to stay over night. The latter declining, Boyd requested to see his passport. This was too positive and peremptory to be disobeyed, but the captain still pressed his inquiries and entreaties to stay over night. He at length so worked upon Smith's fears, by representing the dangers in advance, that the latter concluded to stop, and, notwithstanding Andre's expostulations, remained all night near the patrol. The two occupied the same bed, but it was a long and restless night to the British officer. Across the bright prospect which the successful issue of his expedition spread out be- fore him, would sweep the black clouds of anxiety and fear. In the morning they proceeded on their journey, and at length, having got beyond the reach of the patrolling party, and, as Andre thought, beyond all imminent danger, his naturally joyous spirit resumed its wonted cheerfulness, and his companion saw with amazement the sudden change from taciturnity and despondency to unusual hilarity and pleasant conversation. Poetry, art, and literature, one after another, became the theme of discourse, and he already seemed to see the end of the war and the reduction of the colonies, to the consummation of which his 'sagacity and personal daring would so largely have contributed. Near Pine's Bridge, Smith parted with him and returned to Peekskill. Andre kept on alone till within a half mile of Tarrytown, when he was suddenly stopped by three men, lying in wait for sus- picious persons and cattle going toward New York. Andre inquired to which party they belonged, and understanding, from their answer that tfcey were adherents of the English, LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 3o9 immediately announced himself as a British officer. In a moment he saw his mistake, and pulled out his passport. This would have been sufficient hut for the fatal confession that he had already made. The men then took him into the bushes and began to examine him. They stripped off his clothes, but could discover nothing. At length, in drawing off his stockings, they detected the papers containing the drawings of West Point, together with a full and accurate description of every part of the entire works, and estimates of the forces ; also a plan of the future campaign which had been sent to Arnold by Washington a few days before. Andre then offered heavy rewards if they would let him go ; but, true to their country, these three patriots refused the bribe, and took him to Col. Jameson, commanding at North Castle.* This officer, bewildered and almost bereft of his senses, or else possessed of stupidity that rendered him unfit to command, resolved, with all this damning proof before him, to send Andre to Arnold. Major Talmadge, second in command, was absent when Andre was brought in, and did not return till evening. When Jameson told him what had * Much has been said respecting the character of these three men John Pauld- ing, David Williams, and Isaac Van Wart many maintaining that they were nothing but common plunderers, and were governed solely by the hope of reward in re- taining Andre. I must confess that from the most careful investigation of the mat- ter, Paulding seems to me to have been the only one in whom the thought of a bargain, after the discovery of Andre's true character, never entered. Their occu- pation was, doubtless, very equivocal but it must be remembered that the times were dreadfully out of joint, and love of country could be strong under circum- stances that at this day seem strange. It showed itself even in MUTINY. The utter want of honesty on the part of government to pay its troops, rendered many of them not very scrupulous about the method of reimbursing themselves. To the curious in such matters I would say, that the following complaint is among General Rufus Putnam's papers, now in possession of Judge Putnam of Ohio : " Mrs. Hannah Sniffen says, that Gabriel, Joseph, and Abraham Riquard, David Hunt, Isaac Van Wart, and Pardon Burlingham, did, on the night of the 27th ult. take from Mr. James Sniffen, an inhabitant of White Plains, without civil or mili- tary authority, three milch cows, which they have converted to their own private use. HANNAH SNIFFEN. in behalf of her father. Crane Pond, July 9M, 1780." 360 LIFE OP WASHINGTON. occurred, he was filled with amazement, and declared openly that Arnold was a traitor, and offered to take on himself the responsibility of acting on that conviction. To this Jameson would not listen. Talmadge then insisted vehemently on bringing the prisoner back. Jameson finally consented to do so, but, in spite of all remonstrance, would 'send a letter to Arnold, informing him of the arrest of John Anderson, (as he was called.) The papers he had already dispatched to meet Washington, now on his return from Hartford. The messenger being well mounted overtook the party having charge of the prisoner, and they returned to North Castle. Andre now saw that, in all probability, his fate was sealed. Exposure was unavoidable ; the proofs of his and Arnold's crime he knew were more than ample. The pros- pect grew black as midnight around him, and he was ab- sorbed in gloomy reflections. Pondering solemnly on his condition, he paced up and down his apartment with a slow and measured stride. Talmadge sat watching him, and as he observed the manner in which he turned on his heel, and his military tread, as he paced the floor, he was convinced that the indifferently dressed prisoner before him had been bred to the profession of arms. The next morning Andre wrote a letter to Washington, in which he frankly confessed his name and rank, and the manner in which he came within the American lines. Previous to sending it he showed it to Talmadge, who was confounded at the startling develop- ments it contained. The papers sent to Washington missed him, as he did not return by the road he went, but took the northern route to Fishkill, where, Sept. 24, he arrived late in the afternoon, the very day after Andre's capture. Stopping here only a short time, he pushed on for Arnold's head-quarters, eighteen miles distant. He had gone, however but a mile or two, before he met the French minister, Chevalier Luzerne, on his way to Newport, to visit Rqchambeau. The latter pre- ABANDONING THE VESSELS AT GLOUCESTER. LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 363 vailed on him to return to Fisbkill for the night, as he had matters of importance to communicate. The next morning Washington was early in the saddle, having sent word beforehand to Arnold that he would break- fast with him. It was a bright autumnal morning, and the whole party in high spirits pushed rapidly forward through the gorges of the Highlands. As they came opposite West Point, Washington, instead of continuing on to Arnold's quarters, which were on the same side, turned his horse down a narrow road toward the river. Lafayette observing it, exclaimed " General, you are going in the wrong direc- tion ; you know Mrs. Arnold is waiting breakfast for us, and that road will take us out of our way." " Ah !" replied Washington, laughingly, " I know you young men are all in love with Mrs. Arnold, and wish to get where she is as soon as possible. You may go and take breakfast with her, and tell her not to wait for me. I must ride down and ex- amine the redoubts on this side of the river, and will be there in a short time." The officers preferring not to pro- ceed without him, two aids were dispatched to tell Arnold not to wait breakfast. The latter, therefore, with his family and the two aids sat down to the table. While they were conversing on indifferent topics, a messenger entered and handed a letter to Arnold, who opened and read it in pre- sence of the company. It was the one from Jameson, an- nouncing the capture of Andre. Although the thunderbolt fell sudden and unexpectedly at his feet, it did not startle him from his self-command. Merely remarking that his presence at West Point was necessary, he requested the aids to say to Washington on his arrival that he was unexpect- edly called over the river, and would be back soon. Repair- ing to his wife's chamber, he sent for her at the breakfast- table, and told her he must instantly leave her and his country forever, for death was his certain doom if he did not reach the enemy before he was detected. Paralyzed 3G4 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. by the sudden blow, she fell senseless at his feet. Not daring to call for help, Arnold left her in that state, and rapidly descending to the door, mounted one of the horses belonging to Washington's aids, and taking a byway pushed for the river, where his barge was moored. Jumping in he ordered his six oarsmen to pull for Teller's Point. Stimu- lating them to greater efforts by the promise of two gallons of rum, he swept rapidly past Verplanck's Point, and as he approached the Vulture waved a white handkerchief, and was soon safe on board. In the meantime Washington hav- ing finished his survey, rode on to Arnold's house. Taking a hasty breakfast, he said he would not wait for Arnold to return, but cross over to West Point and meet him there. As the boat swept over the water, he remarked, " Well, gentlemen, I am glad on the whole that General Arnold has gone before us, for we shall now have a salute, and the roar- ing of the cannon will have a fine effect among these moun- tains." At this moment an officer was seen coming down the rocky hill-side, to meet the barge. It was Colonel Lamb, who looked confounded on seeing the commander- in-chief. He commenced an apology, declaring that he was wholly ignorant of his Excellency's intention to visit West Point. " How is this, sir," broke in "Washington, " is not General Arnold here?" "No, sir," replied the colonel, " he has not been here these two days, nor have I heard from him in that time." " This is extraordinary," replied Washington, " he left word that he had crossed the river. However, our visit must not be in vain. Since we have come we must look around and see in what state things are with you." After passing through the garrison and inspecting the various redoubts he returned to the land- ing place and recrossed to Arnold's house. As the boat touched the opposite shore, Hamilton, who had remained behind, was seen coming rapidly down to the shore. Ap- proaching Washington, he spoke in a low and anxious LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 305 tone, when the two immediately hastened to the house. Here Hamilton gave him the papers found on Andre, to- gether with the letter of the latter to Washington. Had an earthquake suddenly opened at the feet of the com- mander-in-chief he could not have been more astounded. Himself, the army, West Point, and all, were standing above a mine that might explode at any moment. How far did this treason extend ? Whom did it embrace ? When was the hour of its consummation ? were questions that came home, like the stroke of a serpent's fang, to his heart. Ordering Hamilton to mount a horse and ride as for life to Verplanck's Point, and stop Arnold, if possible, he called in Lafayette and Knox and told them what had occurred, merely remarking at the close, " Whom can we trust now ?" His countenance was calm as ever, and being informed that Arnold's wife was in a state bordering on insanity, he went up to her room to soothe her. " In her frenzy" she up- braided him with being in a plot to murder her child. " One moment she raved, another she melted into tears. Some- times she pressed her infant to her bosom and lamented its fate, occasioned by the imprudence of its father, in a man- ner that would have pierced insensibility itself."* It was four o'clock in the afternoon when these disclosures were made to Washington, and an hour later, dinner being an- nounced, he said, " Come, gentlemen, since Mrs. Arnold is unwell and the general is absent, let us sit down without ceremony." No one at the table but Knox and Lafayette knew what had transpired, nor did Washington exhibit any change of demeanor, except that he was more than usually stern in voice and manner. But his mind, oppressed with nameless fears, wandered far away from that dinner-table, and no sooner was the repast over than he addressed himself to the * Vide Letter from Hamilton. 366 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. task before him. He wrote rapidly, and couriers were soon seen galloping in every direction. He announced the trea- son to Colonel Wade, commanding at West Point, in the absence of Colonel Lamb, in the single sentence, " General Arnold is gone to the enemy " and directed him to put every thing in instant preparation for a night attack. He sent a messenger to Colonel Gray, ordering him to march at once to West Point with his regiment ; a third to General Greene at Tappan, with directions to leave his heavy baggage be- hind, and press swiftly as possible for King's Ferry, where, or on the way, other orders would meet him. To Colonel Livingston, at Verplanck's Point, he sent the laconic letter, " / wish to see you immediately, and request that you will come without delay" To Major Low, at Fishkill, and an officer with a party at Staatsburg, he sent couriers " directing them to march for West Point without delay." He also wrote to Colonel Jameson, to guard Andre closely and send him im- mediately to West Point. The latter messenger arrived at midnight in a pouring rain, and summoned Andre from his bed, to face the pitiless storm. The guard marched the whole dark and dismal night, and arrived at Robinson's house, Arnold's head-quarters, early in the morning. Washington having done all he could to arrest the enor- mous evil that threatened to overwhelm him, retired late at night to his bed, fearful that the sound of the enemy's can- non would awake him before daylight. Not knowing how many officers might have been cor- rupted by Arnold, and finding a major-general's name men- tioned in the papers taken from Andre, he next morning sent Major Lee with his dragoons to hover near New York, and obtain all the information in his power from the secret agents that he always kept in the city, and who advised him of every movement of the enemy. These spies were un- acquainted with each other, and their communications came through different channels, so that by comparing the several LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 367 accounts Washington at any time was able to come to pretty accurate conclusions respecting any project of Sir Henry Clinton. They usually wrote with an invisible ink which a particular chemical fluid alone could bring out. A few lines on an indifferent subject would be written in common ink and the rest of the letter filled up with important news. Through these spies Washington soon ascertained that Arnold was alone in his treason.* A court-martial was now called to judge Andre, and he was condemned as a spy. When Sir Henry Clinton heard of it, he put forth every effort to avert the dreadful fate of his officer. He sent three commissioners to reason and re- monstrate with the officers of the court. He appealed to Washington, while Arnold wrote him a threatening letter, declaring if Andre was hung he would revenge his death on every American prisoner that fell into his hands. Washington, though his heart was filled with the keenest sorrow for the fate of one so universally beloved, and pos- sessed of such noble qualities of heart and mind refused to arrest the course of justice. As in all cases where great trouble came upon him, so in this, he said but little, but silently and sternly wrestled with it alone. The vastness of the plot, and the rank of those engaged in it, only ren- dered the example still more imperative besides, stern justice to the nation required it. Just after the battle of Long Island, Captain Nathan Hale, a graduate of Yale Col- lege, a young man of rare purity and elevation of character, went over to Brooklyn, at the request of Washington, to ascertain the plans and movements of the enemy, and just as he was passing the outposts on his return, was taken, tried, and hung as a spy. His nobleness of heart did not shield him even from the brutality of his enemies. Washing- ton, therefore, in looking at the matter from every point of * * Vide Sparks' Life of Washington. 3C8 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. view, could see no way of sparing Andre except by exchang- ing him for Arnold. Although he did not make this formal proposition, he caused Clinton to be made aware of his views. The latter, however, could not give up the traitor, richly as he merited death, and justice had to take its course. When Andre found that all hope was at an end, he addressed the following letter to Washington, which doubtless shook his resolution more, and inflicted a keener pang than all which had gone before. " Tappan, Oct. 1st, 1780. "Sin, Buoyed above the terror of death by the con- sciousness of a life devoted to honorable pursuits, and stained with no action that can give me remorse, I trust that the request I make to your excellency at this serious period, and which is to soften my last moments, will not be rejected. Sympathy toward a soldier will surely induce your excel- lency and a military tribunal to adapt the mode of my death to the feelings of a man of honor. Let me hope, sir, that if aught in my character impresses you with esteem toward me, if aught in my misfortunes marks me as the victim of policy and not of resentment, I shall experience the operation of those feelings in your breast by being in- formed that I am not to die on a gibbet." He waited anxiously but in vain for an answer. Still he could not believe his request would be denied, and never ceased to hope till the scaffold rose before his vision. It required a severe struggle on the part of Washington to re- fuse this touching request. The soul of honor himself, and keenly alive to the feelings of an officer and a gentlemen, he felt in his own bosom how great the boon asked by Andre was ; but the sense of duty to his country forbade the granting of it. It was necessary to have it understood that nothing could avert the fate or death of shame of a con- victed spy, and on the 2d of October, with the courage and LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 369 composure of a truly heroic man, Andre expiated his crime on the scaffold. In the meantime the prospects of the colonies in the South assumed a still more gloomy aspect. Cornwallis was sweeping the Carolinas with his troops, while a strong- ex- pedition was being fitted out to overrun Virginia. The complicated and disheartening state of things, however, pro- duced one happy effect it imparted some humility to Con- gress, so that it was glad to turn to Washington for help. Gates, its favorite general, whom it had sent South, was now completely disgraced, and it was compelled at this late day to request the commander-in-chief to appoint a successor. He selected Greene, who soon showed .the wisdom of the choice, and commenced that career which covered him and his tattered army with glory. Congress also passed the measures which Washington for years had urged in vain established the half-pay system, and decreed that all future enlistments should be for the war. The summer having passed in comparative idleness, Washington resolved, if possible, to strike a blow before winter set in. This was no less than a combined attack on New York. The position of the enemy was thoroughly reconnoitered boats were kept mounted on wheels and the whole plan of attack fully developed. Washington had spent a \vhole campaign in maturing this scheme, which promised the most brilliant success. Every thing was nearly ready for the attempt, when several British vessels of war entered the river and put a stop to the preparations. Not long after, the army went into winter-quarters near Morristown, at Pompton, and in the Highlands, and nothing further was done. Washington established his head-quarters at New Windsor, which looked directly down on West Point. As cold weather came on the troops began to suffer severely for want of clothing and stores, and to save and feed a portion of them he was compelled to send back the 20 370 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. new levies. He had' predicted this state of things in the latter part of November, in a letter to General Sullivan, a member of Congress at the time. After discussing the sub- ject at length, he says " Another question may here arise. Where are the means? Means must be found or the soldiers must go naked. But I will take the liberty in this place to give it as my opinion that a foreign loan is indispensably necessary to the con- tinuance of the war. Congress will deceive themselves if they imagine that the army, or a state, that is the theatre of war, can rub through a second campaign as the last. It would be as unreasonable as to suppose that because a man had rolled a snow-ball till it had acquired the size of a horse, he might do so till it was as large as a house. Matters may be pushed to a certain point, beyond which we cannot move them." Greene wrote from the South that his troops were " lite- rally naked" and they did march naked by hundreds into battle, presenting an exhibition of patriotism and valor never before surpassed in the annals of war. Not only was clothing withheld, but the pay of the troops also, and the evils which Congress could not anticipate, though constantly thundered in their ears by Washington, now began to fall on the army. On the 1st of January, 1781, a mutiny broke out in the Pennsylvania line, stationed at Morristown, and thirteen hundred men drew up on parade preparatory to a march on Philadelphia, to force Congress at the point of the bayonet to give them redress. The officers rushed among them, and unable by commands to restore obedience resorted to force. The mutineers fired in turn, killing one officer and mortally wounding another, and for two hours there was an indescribable scene of horror and confusion. At length the mutineers got in marching order, and scouring the grand parade with four pieces of cannon, marched off. The inhabitants fired alarm-guns on the route to Elizabeth- LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 371 town, and beacon-fires blazed on the heights, announcing some great and imminent peril. Sir Henry Clinton hearing of the revolt, sent commissioners to them, offering them high rewards to join the British service. They rejected with scorn the infamous propositions, saying, " What ! does he take us for Arnolds ?" and immediately sent these propo- sals in an envelop to Wayne, declaring, that if the enemy made any hostile demonstration they would march at once against him. The emissaries were seized and given up, and afterward tried by court-martial and shot. Congress, which could turn a deaf ear to the counsels and prophetic appeals of Washington, was now thoroughly alarmed. Although it had stubbornly resisted his advice, resolutions would not put down bayonets, and a committee was appointed^ to con- fer with the mutineers. They met at Trenton, and the claims of the latter to their pay and to be discharged at the end of three years, instead of at the close of the war, being granted, nearly the whole line disbanded for the winter. Washington clearly foresaw that this success of the revolters would stimulate other portions of the army to a similar attempt. The result would be the self-destruction of the entire army, and he resolved that a second mutiny should be put down by the strong arm of force, whatever might be the loss of life that accompanied it. He therefore ordered a thousand men, who could be trusted, to be picked from the different regiments in the Highlands, with four days' provision constantly on hand, and ready to march on a mo ment's notice. His anticipations proved true, for encouraged by the success of the Pennsylvania troops, those of New Jersey, stationed at Pompton and Chatham, revolted also determined to march to Trenton, where Congress was then sitting, and demand their rights by force of arms. Wash- ington immediately dispatched six hundred men, under Howe, with orders to march rapidly and secretly to the camp of the mutineers. The snow was deep and the cold intense, 372 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. but this band of resolute men pushed swiftly forward, bivouacking where night overtook them, and on the fourth day arrived near the camp of the revolted troops, Jan. 27th, 1781. Halting till midnight, Howe resumed his march, and taking positions, and planting his artillery so as to com- mand every approach, he waited for daylight to appear. When light broke over the encampment, the mutineers to their amazement saw ranks of armed men on every side, and cannon sweeping the entire field. Howe ordered them to parade at once, and without arms, in front of their huts, saying that he would allow but five minutes in which to do it. " What," said they, " and no conditions ?" " No conditions !" was the stern response. " Then, if we are to die, we might as well die where we are as any where else." The regiment of Colonel Sprout was immediately ordered to advance, when the promise of submission was reluctantly given. They then paraded without arms and gave up three of the ringleaders, who were tried and condemned on the spot. Two were shot, twelve of their own companions being compelled to act as executioners. The report of those twelve muskets, and the lifeless bodies of their leaders stretched on the snow, carried consternation into the hearts of the others, and they made concessions to their officers, and promised obedience in future. The blow had been sud- den and terrible, and needed no repetition. Washington and Congress were not unlike only in preventing evil, but in arresting and curing it. But just, as well as severe, the former immediately appointed commissioners to inquire into the grievances of the soldiers, which he knew were not imaginary, and have them redressed. This one example was sufficient, and the whisper of revolt was heard no more in the army. While these painful events were transpiring, Laurens, who had been appointed by Congress a commissioner LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 375 to visit France, to negotiate a loan of money and obtain supplies, was in communication with Washington to receive the advice and instructions which Congress had appointed the latter to give him. The jealousies of the different States, and the fear of Con- gress to assert its authority, and command troops to be raised, taxes levied, and clothing supplied, kept the army in a piti- able condition. The resolutions it had passed, in accordance with Washington's views, were all well in their way, but worthless unless enforced. Right in the face of its decrees that troops should be enlisted for the war, the States con- tinued on the old system of engaging them only for a spe- cified time. The bugbear of dictatorial power which they feared that Washington, with an army entirely under his control, might assume, wore a more horrid aspect than the evils under which the nation suffered, and while they allowed Congress to make alliances, vote away the money of the nation, and do all other acts of the highest executive authority, it must not draft soldiers and lay personal taxes, lest it should infringe individual liberty. During the winter, Clinton planned an expedition South, composed of fifteen hundred men, and placed it under Arnold, who was directed to ascend the Chesapeake and reduce the country. The traitor, zealous for his new mas- ter, passed up the James River to Richmond, which he burned to the ground, and by his depredations seemed de- termined to carry out the threat he had made to Washing- ton, if he should allow Andre to be executed. Washington dispatched forces to the South to meet this new inroad, and was exceedingly anxious that a portion of the French fleet should cooperate with them, and blockade Arnold in James River. Such a movement, he was confident, would secure the destruction of the corps. But the fleet was blockaded in Newport by the British, and could not with safety put to sea. In the middle of January, however, a severe storm 376 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. swept the eastern coast, and when it broke, a British sixty- four was seen off Montauk Point, under jury-masts, the Culloden, a seventy-four, aground on a reef near Gardiner's Island, while the Bedford; another seventy-four, was adrift in the Sound, swept of every spar, and her whole upper tier of guns thrown overboard. Destouches, who had succeeded Chevalier de Ternay, after his death, reconnoitered the shattered fleet for the purpose of engaging it, but found it still too strong to be attacked. He, however, took advan- tage of its scattered condition to send three vessels of war, in accordance with Washington's request, to blockade Ar- nold. These, under M. de Tilly, arrived in the Chesapeake ; but Arnold, who had been advised of the movement, with- drew his ships so far up the Elizabeth River that the heavier vessels of the French could not reach him. Thus the expedition, which, if it could have sailed sooner, as Washington expected, would have been successful, was ren- dered abortive, and the vessels returned to Newport. M. Destouches now resolved, at the earnest recommenda- tion of Washington, to proceed to sea with his whole fleet and sail for the Chesapeake. He departed on the 16th of March, followed by the British admiral with the whole of his fleet. An action took place off the capes of Virginia, which terminated without any decisive result, and the French squadron returned to Newport. Previous to this, when Washington was informed of the departure of the three vessels to blockade Arnold, he dispatched Lafayette with twelve hundred men, by land, to cooperate with him and aid Baron Steuben, who with a mere handful of militia had been left to resist the invasion. In the meantime, (March 2d,) Washington made a visit to Newport, to consult with Rochambeau on a plan for the summer campaign. He was received with great honor, and after an absence of three weeks returned to head-quarter-. The movements of the enemy, however, were so uncertain, LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 377 that nothing definite could be decided upon except in any case to act in concert. Whatever shape affairs might ulti- mately assume, one thing was evident, the British were directing their attention more exclusively to the South. Notwithstanding the defeat of Tarleton by Morgan, and the consummate generalship exhibited by Greene, Cornwallis had obtained a strong foothold in the Carolinas, and it was clearly the opinion of the latter that the theatre of the war should be transferred in that direction, even if it were ne- cessary to abandon New York. Clinton, in consequence, sent off heavy detachments to cooperate with him, and it became evident that the forces accumulating there would soon be able to trample under foot all the opposition that could be offered. Light armed vessels pushed up the various rivers of Virginia, plundering and desolating as they ad- vanced. One ascended the Potomac as far as Mount Vernon, and Lund Washington, the manager of the estate, wishing, to save the buildings from conflagration, sent on board and offered the enemy refreshments. Washington when he- heard of it expressed his regret, saying, in that lofty pa- triotism which like the fire never ceased to burn : " I am very sorry to hear of your loss ; I am a little sorry to hear of my own ; but that which gives me most concern is, that you should go on board the enemy's vessels and furnish them with refreshments. It would have been a less painful circumstance to me to have heard, that, in consequence of your non-compliance with their request, they had burned my house and laid my plantation in ruins. You ought to have considered yourself as my representative, and should have reflected on the bad example of communicating with the enemy, and making a voluntary offer of refreshments to them with a view to prevent a conflagration." This is not a public letter, designed to meet the public eye, but a private, confidential one, revealing the feelings of a heart in which love of country absorbed every other interest and 378 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. emotion. It furnished, also, directions for future conduct. It was saying to his manager, rather than ever again hold any intercourse with the enemy, or make any terms with them, let them burn down my dwellings and lay waste my possessions. . Indeed, in this very letter he says he expects such a result. What perfect harmony there is between his secret thoughts and public acts in every thing respecting the welfare of his country. With what prospects he was about to enter on the sum- mer campaign may be gathered from the following entry made in his diary on the first of May : " Instead of having magazines filled with provisions, we have a scanty pittance scattered here and there in the different States ; instead of having our arsenals well supplied with military stores, they are poorly provided, and the workmen all leaving them ; instead of having the various articles of field equipage in readiness to be delivered, the quarter-master general, as the dernier resort, according to his account, is now applying to the several States to provide those things for their troops respectively ; instead of having a regular system of trans- portation established upon credit, or funds in the quarter- master's hands to defray the expenses of it, we have neither the one nor the other, and all that business being done by military impress, we are are daily and hourly oppressing the people, souring their tempers, and alienating their affec- tions; instead of having the regiments completed to the new establishment, which ought to have been done agree- ably to the requisitions of Congress, scarce any State in the Union has at this hour an eighth part of its quota in the field, and little prospect that I can see of ever getting more than half; in a word, instead of having every thing in readiness to take the field, we have nothing ; and instead of having a glorious offensive campaign before us, we have a bewildered and gloomy defensive one, unless we should receive a powerful aid of ships, land troops, and money, LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 379 from our generous allies, and those at present are too con- tingent to build upon."* It required more than a prophet's ken to see light beyond this darkness, more than the spirit of man to breathe on such a chaos to bring or er and form out of it. But, " our generous allies" did fortunately come to our relief. A French frigate, with Count de Barras on board, arrived at Boston, bringing the cheering intelligence that troops and vessels of war were on the way, while a fleet, under Count de Grasse, designed to leave the West Indies for the American coast in July or August. About this time Washington wrote to Paul Jones, who had arrived at Philadelphia in February in the Ariel, with stores and clothing, which had long been expected, con- gratulating him on his glorious victory over the Serapis, and the highly complimentary report of the Board of Admiralty, that had been directed to inquire into the cause of the delay. His daring cruise along the coast of England, the conster- nation he had spread throughout the kingdom, and the gal- lant deeds by which he had " made the flag of America re- spected among the flags of other nations," were mentioned with the warmest approbation, and declared worthy of par- ticular regard from Congress. The news of the arrival of fresh troops and additional vessels, and of more soon to foe on our coast, spread new life through, the American camp, and Washington resolved at once to open a vigorous campaign. The commanders of the allied armies met at Weathersfield, Connecticut, to deter- mine on the best plan to pursue. The French proposed to make a-Southern campaign in Virginia, but Washington was of the firm opinion that a combined attack, by sea and land, should be made on New York. To the strong reasons which he gave, the former yielded, and immense preparations were set on foot. In the meantime, Washington watched with * Vide Sparks' Letters and Speeches of Washington, vol. viii. page 31. 380 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. the deepest anxiety the operations of Lafayette and Greene in the South, fondly hoping that their successes would draw off large reinforcements from the army in New York, and thus materially weaken the garrison. Robert Morris, who had been appointed superintendent of finance, animated with the same spirit of self-devotion as Washington, sent forward voluntarily two thousand barrels of flour to the army, which he had purchased on his own credit, promising to follow it with a large sum of money, to be raised in the same way. In the meantime orders had been issued to the different sections of the army, and they closed rapidly in upon the Hudson, forming a junction at Peekskill. Washington, on the 2d of July, left his tents standing and his baggage be- hind, and rapidly descended the river, hoping to take the enemy's garrison at Kingsbridge, and posts in the vicinity by surprise. The night before, Lincoln, with a strong de- tachment, passed down the stream with muffled oars, and landing a mile below Yonkers, pushed rapidly and silently over the hills in the darkness, unobserved by the British light-horse, and before daylight drew up near Kingsbridge. But the enemy's pickets, hearing the tread of the advancing columns, and beholding through the gloom the advance par- ties, opened a brisk fire. Washington, who had marched with the main army all night, was already on the slope of Valentine's Hill, when the sharp rattle of musketry was borne by on the night air. The order to march was in- stantly given, and the troops hastened forward to the sup- port of Lincoln. The enemy retired behind their works, and De Lancey, stationed on Harlem River, also aroused by the firing, hastily retreated before the Duke de Lauzun, ap- proaching by way of Hartford, could cut him off. Baffled in this attempt, Washington withdrew, and on the 4th of July, pitched his camp near Dobbs' Ferry. Two days after, the heads of the French columns appeared in view, with LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 381 drums beating and colors flying, and were received with en- thusiasm by the whole army. Rochambeau had rapidly marched them from Newport, in four divisions, by way of Hartford ; one regiment, that of Saintonge, never halting for a single day's rest the entire distance. As Washington's army lay in two lines, resting on the Hudson, the French took position on the left, ex- tending in a single line to the Bronx. As the national colors of the two armies swayed away in the breeze, joy and enthusiasm animated every heart, and a glorious issue to the summer campaign was confidently expected. But just in proportion as foreign aid was received, the colonies, especially those of New England, New York, Penn- sylvania, and New Jersey, grew more listless, and the re- cruits came in slowly. The mission of Lauren s had been partially successful. France promised six millions of livres, and the king had pledged himself to negotiate a loan for the United States for ten millions, so that at the close of the year he would have furnished in all twenty-five millions. The two armies remained inactive in their encampment for a fortnight, but Washington kept in constant communi- cation with the Southern armies through a chain of ex- presses. On the 18th, he, and three French generals, crossed the river at Dobbs' Ferry, and escorted by a hundred and fifty men, ascended the hills that terminate the Pallisades, and spent the entire day in surveying through their glasses the portion of the enemy on the northern part of the island. Three days after, with five thousand men, he advanced to reconnoitre the works at Kingsbridge and cut off such of Delancey's light troops as might be found without the lines. The next day the army displayed on the heights opposite the enemy. The latter was wholly unaware of their ap- proach till their sudden apparition on the neighboring hills announced it. Washington and Rochambeau then took with 382 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. them the engineers and reconnoitred the enemy's works. They afterward went over to Throg's Neck and measured the distance across to Long Island. The enemy discovered the party and leveled some cannon shot at them, which, however, passed harmlessly by. Having finished the recon- noisance, the whole division retired, reaching the camp at midnight. It was impossible, of course, while the French fleet at Newport was blockaded, to effect any thing against New York. Washington, therefore, waited with the deepest anxiety the arrival of Count de Grasse. He dispatched to General Forman, at Monmouth, a letter to the Count, writ- ten in Rochambeau's cypher, with directions to keep cease- less watch on the heights, and the mpment the fleet hove in sight to proceed on board and deliver it. In the meantime affairs in the South were assuming a more favorable aspect. Greene had handed Cornwallis over to Lafayette, and this gallant young commander,* on the very day that the French army, under Rochambeau, marched with flying colors into the camp of Washington at Dobbs' Ferry, fought the battle of Green Spring, in which he and Wayne showed themselves worthy of each other and the trust committed to them. The next night Cornwallis, re- treating before "the boy" whom he contemptuously declared could not " escape" him, passed James' river and afterward proceeded to Portsmouth. Here he received orders to take a position on the Chesapeake which could serve as the basis of future operations. Selecting Yorktown as the most se- cure and favorable, he moved his forces thither and began *This noble stranger, when he arrived in Baltimore, found the troops badly clothed, discontented, and averse to returning South. Immediately borrowing ten thousand dollars on his own credit, he expended them in shirts, shoes, etc., for the soldiers, which so touched their hearts, that their murmurings and complaints gave place to enthusiasm and love, and they closed around him like veterans. LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 383 to entrench himself. By the 23d of August his army was concentrated and well secured. The constant success of his favorite and friend, gratified Washington exceedingly, who was afraid, in case of any dis- aster, that he would be blamed for putting so young and inexperienced a commander into the field against one of the best tacticians and most accomplished generals of the age. While Cornwallis was employed in erecting fortifications (Aug. 14th,) Washington received a letter from Count de Grasse, in St. Domingo, stating that he was about to sail with his entire fleet, and some three thousand troops, for the Chesapeake, but could not remain later than the middle of October. After a brief consultation with Rochambeau, it was de- cided to be very doubtful whether New York could be re- duced within that period, and that Virginia furnished the only field promising immediate success. They resolved therefore to march thither without delay. Every effort, however, was made to deceive Sir Henry Clinton respecting the change of plan. Boats were gathered in the neighbor- hood of New York ovens built and forage collected, as if in preparation for a thorough investment of the city false communications, sent for the purpose of falling into the hands of the enemy, corroborated this external evidence, and Clinton had no doubt that he was to be the object of attack. Washington took great pains to deceive his own troops also, knowing, as he said, " where the imposition does not completely take place at home it would never suf- ficiently succeed abroad." He informed Barras at Newport of his intentions, and requested him to sail immediately for the Chesapeake, but the latter had an enterprise of his own on foot against Newfoundland, besides, being senior in rank to the Count de Grasse, he did not wish to serve under him. At the earnest remonstrance, however,, of both Washington and Rochambeau, he at last consented to go, though gruin- 384 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. lingly, saying it was the last expedition he would ever undertake. Every thing being ready, the combined armies struck their camps and turned the heads of their columns south- ward. Twenty regiments, under Heath, were left to guard the Highlands. The American army crossed the Hudson on the 21st the French commenced next day, completing the passage on the 25th. They proceeded by different routes to Trenton, where they formed a junction and moved rapidly southward, Washington and Rochanibeau here left the armies and rode on to Philadelphia, to provide vessels in which to transport the troops from Trenton to the head of the Elk. The city received the commander-in-chief with acclamations, and as he passed slowly through the streets the enthusiasm broke over all bounds, and the clamor of the multitude drowned even the clang of bells and thunder of artillery. But only boats enough could be procured to carry a single regiment, and the main army, under Lincoln, continued its march by land. Passing through Philadelphia it was fol- lowed by almost the entire population, who hailed them with exultant shouts and invoked blessings on their heads. Heavy rains came on, and through the wet and mire the weary suffering troops were kept to the top of their endur- ance. The French, w^eli clad and well fed, suffered but little, while the destitute Americans presented a most piti- able spectacle. Washington had written to Lafayette announcing his de- parture, and requesting him to watch Cornwallis narrowly and not let him escape into the Carol inas. But the 2d of September arriving without hearing any thing from Count de Grasse, who was to have sailed on the 3d of August, or from Barras, who had notified him he should leave Newport on the 23d, Washington was " distressed beyond measure" The English fleet might occupy the Chesapeake first, and LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 387 then the whole plan would fall through, while if even Bar- ras, who had much of the heavy siege artillery on board, was taken, the entire aspect of affairs might be changed. But three days after, the joyful intelligence was received of the safe arrival of the French admiral with twenty-six ships of the line and several frigates. The army was electrified, while the French officers were almost delirious with joy. The prospect now brightened, and the threads of fate were evidently weaving a net for Cornwallis. The two armies had passed the Delaware before Clinton was aware of their destination. He then dispatched Arnold to make an irruption into Connecticut, and threatened an invasion of New Jersey and an attack on the Highlands to induce Washington to halt. But the latter could not be turned aside from the great object on which he had set his heart, and pressed resolutely and swiftly toward its accom- plishment. Cornwallis saw with alarm this sudden and tremendous combination designed to crush him, and gazed anxiously around for an avenue of escape. If he had been left to his own resources he probably would have made a desperate attempt to cleave his way through the defenses of Lafayette and escape to the Carolinas. From his known energy and skill the success of such an effort might not have been so hopeless, but he received a dispatch from Sir Henry Clinton promising reinforcements both of troops and ships. Thus, the second time, did this commander lull into fatal security one of his lieutenants, and first in the case of Burgoyne, and now in that of Cornwallis, make certain an impending calamity. While the two armies were pressing southward Washing- ton turned aside, and, for the first time in six years, visited his home at Mount Vernon. In the meantime Count de Grasse was told that the British fleet, under Admiral Graves, who had been reinforced from 388 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. the West Indies, was in pursuit of him off the Chesapeake He immediately put to sea and offered battle. An engage ment followed, but without any decisive result. The next day the English admiral, who had the weather-guage, de- clining to renew the action, Do Grasse put back into the Chesapeake, where to his great joy he found Barras safely arrived. Washington, as soon as Rochambeau joined him, conti- nued his journey, and on arriving at Williamsburg heard of the return of the French fleet and the junction of De Bar- ras with it. Every thing now rested on the dispatch of the troops, and Washington's energies were roused to the utmost. A single day's delay might ruin a great enterprise and defer indefinitely the independence of his country. He wanted an army that could fly, and wrote to General Lin- coln to hurry forward the "troops on the wings of speed" "Every day we now lose" said he, "is comparatively an age." He sent a messenger to the Count de Grasse for boats to trans- port the troops by water from Annapolis and the head of the Elk, but the French admiral had anticipated his wants, and he soon had the satisfaction of seeing the fleet of trans- ports move away to the scene of operations. He then requested an interview with De Grasse. Accompanied by Rochambeau, Knox, De Chastellux and Du Portail, he em- barked in a small vessel and was received by the admiral with distinguished honors. The plan of attack was soon arranged, and Washington returned to land. In the mean- time Admiral Digby arrived at Sandy Hook with a reinforce- ment of vessels. De Grasse was no sooner informed of this than he resolved to put to sea and give the enemy battle. When this astounding intelligence was communicated to Washington he could not conceal his anxiety. He immedi- ately wrote a letter to the count, which he dispatched by Lafa}-ette, who he knew would second its contents with all the influence he possessed. In it he depicted in the strong- LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 389 est language the fatal consequences that would follow such an abandonment of the land forces, declaring that it might result in no less a calamity than the total disbanding of the army. At all events, if he was afraid to be attacked in a stationary position, he must at least cruise in sight of the capes. But the true reason with De Grasse was, not that he feared to be attacked at anchor he wished to perform a brilliant action in which the glory would belong to himself alone in short, to capture or disperse the entire English fleet, and thus secure, by one grand coup, the overthrow of both the British armies, and put an end to the war. But for fear of the consequences that might result from disre- gard in the firm remonstrance of both Washington and the French commanders, there is but little doubt that he would have insisted on executing his brilliant project, and thus overthrown the whole campaign, and put far off the day of peace. He, however, consented to remain ; though, it is said, that Washington, afraid to trust to his steadiness of purpose, sent Hamilton to him during the siege, who, passing in an open boat by night, had an interview with hirn to strengthen his determination. Cornwallis at this time was at the head of more than 7000 troops, which were concentrated mostly in Yorktown, containing at that time about sixty houses. A few occupied Gloucester, on the opposite side of York river. The allied armies, nearly sixteen thousand strong, took up their line of march from Williamsburg on the 28th of September, at 5 o'clock in the morning, and advancing by different routes toward Yorktown, arrived in view of the ene- my's lines at 4 o'clock in the afternoon. Cornwallis watched their approach through his glass with feelings of the most painful anxiety. At the first departure of De Grasse to give Admiral Graves battle, and afterward as the distant cannon- ide of the hostile fleets broke over the sea, hope reanimated lis heart. But now as he saw the French fleet quietly riding 21 390 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. at anchor in rear of his works, while this overwhelming force slowly and steadily took up its position in front, his heart sunk within him. Washington, on the other hand, as the declining sunbeams streamed over the long lines of glit- tering bayonets, and polished pieces of the French artillery, as, with strains of martial music, the steady columns one after another deployed on the field, and saw far away the peaks of the French ships of war, tipped with light, .felt that the hour of triumph had come, and a glorious victory was in reserve for his country. The next day the morning reveille beat cheerily through the allied camp, and soon the field presented a brilliant spectacle, as the French on the left and the Americans on the right advanced, and extending in a semicircle entirely round the enemy's works to the river on either side, com- pleted the investment. The British then retired from their advanced works, leaving two redoubts undamaged within cannon shot of their fortifications. The succeeding day the allied troops took possession of the neglected works, the French occupying the two redoubts, while the Americans broke ground for two new ones on the right. In the mean- time the heavy siege guns were hurried forward. On the morning of the 1st of October, the British seeing the re- doubts begun by the Americans, directed their artillery upon them, and a heavy cannonade was kept up all day and night. For three days and nights the deep reverberations of their guns shook the field, and swept far out over the deep, but not a shot replied. The stroke of the spade and pickaxe, as the earth was thrown up to form the redoubts the confused hum of workmen erecting tents, and shops, and ovens, and unloading baggage and provisions the heavy rumbling of artillery wagons as the long line of teams stretched over, the uneven ground and the stern or- ders of officers, were the only sounds that rose from the allied armies. In the centre, where they met as they swept LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 391 up in a semicircle from the river, "Rochambeau and Wash- ington stationed themselves, and here, too, was drawn up the artillery. By the 6th of October, every thing was ready to com- mence the approaches, and, as an omen of good, Washing- ton that very day received the cheering intelligence of Greene's victory at Eutaw Springs. The night came on dark and stormy, and amid the driving rain, unheard in the roar of the blast by the British sentinels, six regiments un- der the command of Lincoln, Clinton, and Wayne, opened the first parallel within five hundred and fifty yards of the British works on the right. The men were pushed vigor- ously all night, and by morning were well covered from the guns of the fortifications. Up to this time the French and Americans had lost in all but one officer and sixteen pri- vates, killed and wounded. The next two days the enemy fired but little, and the parallel was completed. On the afternoon of the 9th, the French had established one bat- tery of four twelve pounders and six mortars and howitzers, and the Americans another of six, eighteen and twenty-four pounders, and four mortars and howitzers. Washington then rode up an eminence, and through his glass took a long and careful survey of the enemy's works and his own bat- teries. Apparently satisfied he closed his glass, and waved iiis hand as a signal. The next moment the French battery opened, and two hours after the American blended in its thunder on the right, and the first act of the tragedy com- menced. All night long thunder answered thunder, echoing over land and sea. The next day two more French batteries, mounting in all twenty heavy cannon and mortars, and two American, of six guns, making twenty-six pieces, were put in operation. Forty-six guns had now concentrated their destructive fire on the limited works of the British, and it rained a horrible tempest of shot and shells upon Cornwallis. It was impos- 392 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. sible to withstand such a tremendous fire, and the enemy were soon compelled to withdraw their guns from the em- brasures behind the merlins and for the remainder of the day, without firing scarcely a single shot, they sat silent and sullen within their works, and took with calm sternness the terrible pelting. As night drew on and darkness slowly settled over the landscape, the scene became terrifically grand. The hea- vens were illuminated with red hot shot and blazing bombs, as they stooped on their fiery track into the doomed gar- rison, while the deep silence out of which the explosions came, added to the solemn terror of the spectacle. These messengers of destruction passed also over the town and dropped amid the .shipping beyond, kindling into conflagra- tion four large transports and a forty -four gun ship.* "The ships were enwrapped in a torrent of fire, which spreading with vivid brightness among the combustible rigging, and running with amazing rapidity to the tops of the several masts, while all around was thunder and lightning from our numerous cannon and mortars, and in the darkness of night presented one of the most sublime and magnificent specta- cles which can be imagined. Some of our shells overreach- ing the town were seen to fall into the river, and bursting, threw up columns of water, like the spouting monsters of the deep."f The firing continued all the next day, (the llth) and at night a second parallel was commenced within three hun- dred yards of the enemy's works, and in two days was nearly completed. Cornwallis still held two redoubts, which stood in advance of his works on the left, and from which he could enfilade this second parallel. After a brief consultation it was re- solved, therefore, to storm them. To incite the rivalry of *The Oberon. fVide Thatcher's Military Journal. LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 393 the troops, the storming of one was intrusted to the French, under Baron de Viornenil, and the other to the Americans, under Lafayette. The French baron, while preparing for the assault, hinted to Lafayette that he was rather unfortu- nate in his command, as the American troops were not so reliable as French in work of this kind. Lafayette, who had come to look on the Americans as peculiarly belonging to him, was stung by the remark, but quietly replied, " we shall see." Toward evening the storming columns were drawn up and marched to their respective positions. Two shells were to be the signal to advance. The shell from the American battery rose first, but it had scarcely reached the zenith in its blazing track, before, in another direction, that of the French mounted the heavens. The next moment the loud shout " FORWARD" rang along the ranks. Colonel Hamilton led the van of the Americans, and carried away by his boiling courage, strode in advance of his men, and scorning to wait till the abatis was removed, mounted over it, and on the parapet beyond,, with but three men at his side. Waving his pword to his brave followers crowding fiercely after him, with leveled bayonets, he shouted " On ! on!" and leaped into the ditch. A thrilling "huzza!" re- plied, and soon the enemy were flying in every direction. Not a shot had been fired the cold steel had finished the work, and in nine minutes' time. As the loud and ringing cheer rose on the evening air, the delighted Lafayette turned to the other redoubt, and knowing by the sharp firing that it was not yet carried, and remembering the sneer of Vio- menil, dispatched a messenger to that officer, saying that his own redoubt was carried, and asking if he needed any help. " Tell Lafayette," proudly replied the Baron, " that my redoubt will be carried in five minutes." He made good his word, and soon cheer answered cheer, and the French and American flags waved a salutation to each other across the intervening space. The loss of the Americans was only 394 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. sixty-five killed and wounded, while that of the French was over a hundred. The latter stopped to remove the abatis. The possession of these redoubts were of the utmost im- portance, for, besides being relieved from their flank fire, Washington with batteries erected there could enfilade the whole English line. The girdle of fire was now narrowing to a fatal interval, and even desperate measures must be resorted to, or the tragedy would close. Cornwallis therefore determined, it is said, to leave his sick and baggage behind, and crossing over to Gloucester, cut up by an unexpected, impetuous as- sault, the French and American troops stationed there mount what he could of his infantry on the horses of the Duke's Legion and others which he might be able to seize, and fleeing through Maryland, Pennsylvania and New Jer- sey, gain New York. This absurd attempt, if ever really intended, was cut short by a sudden storm of wind and rain, which rendered the passage of the river impracticable. Toward morning of this same night, Cornwallis made a sortie with 800 men on the incomplete French batteries, and carried them, but the Due de Chastellux advancing to their support, drove the assailants back. The latter suc- ceeded in spiking four cannon, but having time to do it only by ramming the points of their bayonets into the touch- holes and then breaking them off, the pieces were soon ren- dered serviceable again. At daylight new batteries in the second parallel were opened, when there was not a spot within the town unexposed to the desolating fire of the be- siegers. The buildings were pierced like a honey-comb the earth rose in furrows and mounds on every side as the heavy shot and shells ploughed through, while carcases of men and horses were strewn amid the broken artillery car riages and wrecks of the works. In short, the camp was completely uncovered, and cannon balls searched every part LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 395 of it. The English troops stood in still despair and let the iron storm beat on them. Cornwallis had hoped for succor to the last, but this useless sacrifice of his men was too dreadful to be longer endured, and at 10 o'clock the loud beat of the chamade was heard in the intervals of the explo- sions of cannon, and the firing ceased. Cornwallis then sent a flag of truce requesting a cessation of hostilities for twenty- four hours, to arrange the terms of capitulation. To this Washington would not consent, fearing that the arrival of the English fleet in the meantime might alter the aspect of affairs, and allowed him but two hours in which to transmit his proposals. A rough draft was sent, and the next day the terms of capitulation were agreed upon. On the 18th, the garrison, with colors cased and playing a melancholy march, moved slowly out of their dilapidated works. The French and American armies were drawn up on opposite sides of the road, with Rochambeau and Washington, splen- didly mounted, at the respective heads of the columns, while the fields around were black with thousands of spectators, who had heard of the victory, and flocked hither to see the army and the man who had so long been the terror of the country. Not a sound broke the deep silence that had set- tled on the field save the measured tread of the slowly advancing thousands and the mournful air of their bands. Cornwallis, wishing to be spared the mortification of the scene, feigned sickness and was allowed to remain in his quarters. In his absence, General O'Harra advanced and offered the sword of his commander to Washington. The latter directed him to Lincoln, who so recently had been compelled to surrender his own at Charleston. The latter received and immediately returned it to the officer. Twenty- eight British captains then advanced with sad countenances and surrendered the twenty-eight flags of the army. En- sign Wilson, only eighteen years of age, was appointed to receive them. The whole army then laid down their arms, 396 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. and the humiliating ceremony was over. Over seven thou- sand men, with their arms, seventy-five brass and one hun- dred and sixty iron cannon, twenty-eight standards, with all the ammunition and stores, and the entire shipping, were the fruits of this victory. The next day was the Sabbath, and Washington ordered divine service in each of the brigades of the American army. The news of this glorious victory flew like lightning over the land. Washington dispatched at once one of his aids* to Congress, then sitting in Philadelphia. The swift rider dashed on a gallop into the city at midnight the clatter of his horse's hoofs the only sound that broke the silence of the deserted streets, as he pressed straight for the house of McKean, then president of Congress. Thundering at the door as though he would force an entrance, he roused the sleeping president, sa} T ing, "Cornwallis is taken!" The watchmen caught the words, and when they called " one o'clock," they added, " and Cornwallis is taken!" As they moved slowly on their nightly rounds, windows were flung open and eager countenances were seen scanning the streets. A hum, like that of an awakening hive, immediately per- vaded the city. The inhabitants went pouring into the streets, while shout after shout rose on the midnight air. The old bellman was roused from his slumbers, and soon the iron tongue of the bell at the state-house rung out as of old, "PROCLAIM LIBERTY THROUGHOUT ALL THE LAND TO ALL THE INHABITANTS THEREOF." The dawn was greeted with the booming of cannon ; and salvos of artillery, and shouts of joy, and tears of thanksgiving, accompanied the glad news as it traveled exultingly over the land. It is impossible, at this day, to conceive the wild, ecstatic joy with which it was received. Not so in England. It had been sent by a French frigate, * Colonel Tilghman. WASHINGTON AND LEE AT MONMOUTH. LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 399 and as if the winds and waves were anxious to waft it on, the vessel reached France in eighteen days. Lord Germain, Secretary of the American department, received it in Lon- don, on Sunday the 25th of November, just two days before Parliament was to meet. Lord Walsingham, who had been selected to second the address in the house of Peers on the following Tuesday, happened to be present when the official intelligence arrived. Lord Germain immediately called a hackney coach, and taking Lord Walsingham with him, pro- ceeded to Lord Stormount's in Portland Place. The three then hastened to the Lord Chancellor's, when, after a brief consultation, they decided to go at once and present the in- telligence to Lord North in person. They reached his house between one and two o'clock. The dreadful tidings com- pletely unmanned the stern prime minister. When asked, afterward, how he took it, Lord Germain replied, "As he would a ball in his breast. For he opened his arms, exclaim- ing wildly, as he paced up and down the apartment during a few minutes, ' Oh, God, it is all over!' As the full extent of the catastrophe continued to press on him, he could only repeat, ' Oh, God, it is all over it is all over /' ' In it ho saw the hand-writing on the wall, and knew that the hour of his overthrow had come. At length he became more composed, and the four ministers began to discuss the mat- ted seriously. They concluded it would be impossible to prorogue Parliament for a few days, and the first thing to be attended to, therefore, was the alteration of the King's speech, which had already been prepared. Lord Germain then sent a -dispatch to the king, George III., at Kew. Sir N. W. Wraxall, who dined with Lord Germain that day, says that the first news was publicly communicated at the table. All were anxious to hear how the king bore it, when Lord Germain read aloud his reply. It was calm and composed, bearing no marks of agitation, except, as Lord Germain remarked, "1 observe that the king has 400 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. omitted to mark the hour and minute of his writing with his usual precision." The opening of Parliament was the signal for the on- slaught of the opposition. This humiliation of the British arms furnished them the occasion and material for the most terrible invective. Fox, and Burke, and the younger Pitt, came down with the swoop of the eagle on Lord North. The stern minister, however, bore proudly up for awhile against the storm, but was at last compelled to bow before its force. LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 401 CHAPTER Xin. Sickness and Death of young Custis Departure of the French Fleet Destination of the Troops Circular Letter to the States Lincoln Secretary of War Greene around Charleston Head-quarters at Newburgh The Temple Case of Captain Huddy and Captain Asgill Defeat of the English Ministry Proposal to make Washington King Settlement of the Case of young Asgill Meeting of French and American Troops at King's Ferry Destitution of the Officers Washing- ton's Views on the Subject "Newburgh Addresses" Proclamation of Peace Washington addresses a Circular Letter to the States Visits Northern Battle Fields Disbanding of the Army Evacuation of New York Farewell to the Officers Washington Surrenders his Commission to Congress His Feelings on laying down Power Visits his Land West Improves his Farm Interview with Lafayette, and Letter to him after his Departure His Habits of Life Inefficiency of Congress Washington's Views and Feelings respecting it Soci- ety of 'the Cincinnati Convention called to form a Constitution Washington chosen President The Constitution Washington elected First President of the United States. WHILE Yorktown was yet ringing to the acclamations of the allied armies, Washington received a blow which made him for a time forget even the glorious victory which he had achieved. The only child of his wife, and beloved by him like an own son, had been from the commencement of the war his aid-de-camp. The mother's heart was wrapped ap in that youth, and often in battle his safety lay nearer the father's heart than his own. He rode by the chieftain's side during the siege of Yorktown, and saw with pride and exultation the British army march forth and lay down its arms. But this victory cost him his life. While the balls of the allied troops were demolishing the enemy's entrench- ments without the camp, fever was desolating frightfully within. To this disease young Custis fell a victim. Imme- diately after he was attacked by it, Washington directed him to be removed to Eltham in New Kent, whither he was accompanied by his mother and Dr. Craik, the old family physician. The disease made frightful progress, and it was soon apparent that nothing could save him. A .messenger 402 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. was immediately dispatched to Torktown with the melan- choly tidings. He arrived in the night. Instantly mount- ing his horse, taking with him but one officer, Washington started for the siok-bed of the sufferer. The two solitary horsemen galloped silently and swiftly forward, and just as day was breaking, reached the house where the young aid lay dying. Summoning Dr. Craik, Washington eagerly asked, "Is there any hope ?" The doctor shook his head. He im- mediately retired into a private room where his wife joined him, and the two remained for a long time closeted toge- ther. Washington, with the tears of grief still depicted on his countenance, then remounted his horse and rode back to camp. He had been exceedingly anxious to enlist the Count de Grasse in an expedition against Charleston, but the or- ders of the latter forbade his compliance. An attempt to obtain the use of the troops for nearer service was equally unsuccessful. Finding the fleet was about to set sail, Wash- ington went on board the admiral's vessel to pay his re- spects and express his thanks to the Count, to whom also Jie presented two superb horses. The latter having at length re-embarked that portion of the troops commanded by the Marquis St. Simon, sailed for the West Indies. Two thousand Continentals under St. Clair were dispatched to the aid of Greene in the South, while the remainder, under Lincoln, embracing those north of Pennsylvania, marched to their winter quarters in New Jer- sey the light troops of New York joining their respective regiments in the Highlands. The French under Rocham- beau remained in Virginia, the head-quarters of the latter being at Williamsburg. The prisoners being marched .to Winchester, Virginia and Fredericktown, Maryland, Lord Cornwallis and the principal British officers went on parole to New York. Washington repaired to Philadelphia to con suit with Congress on the measures necessary to be adopted LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 403 ibr the next campaign. Lafayette in the meantime and many other French officers, had obtained leave to return to France, carrying back with them the warmest feelings of love and admiration for Washington. Notwithstanding the disasters that had befallen the Bri- tish army, there were no indications that the government intended to relax its efforts to reduce the colonies. But fearing such would be the impression of the different States, causing them to put forth less energy, Washington, in con- sultation with Congress, issued two circular letters to them one asking for supplies, and the other stating the condition and prospects of the army. Said he, " The broken and per- plexed state of the enemy's affairs, and the successes of the last campaign on our part, ought to be a powerful incitement to vigorous preparation for the next. Unless we strenuously exert ourselves to profit by these successos, we shall not only lose all the solid advantages that might be derived from them, but we shall become contemptible in our own eyes, in the eyes of our enemy, in the opinion of posterity, and even in the estimation of the whole world, which will consider us a nation unworthy of prosperity, because we know not how to make aright use of it." Notwithstanding all his efforts, however, there was a general belief that the war was virtually over. Still the government did not act on this basis. Money was sought from France, General Lincoln was appointed Secretary of War to give greater energy and efficiency to that department, and every effort made to put the nation in a posture to renew hostilities the coming spring. While these events were transpiring at Philadelphia, Greene, with his suffering, half clad army, was gathering closer and closer round the enemy in Charleston. The Bri- tish general, however, maintained his position till the next autumn, when, despairing of help, he at length agreed to evacuate the place and on the 14th of December marched 404 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. his troops to the ships, pursued close by the column of Wayne. A short time previous to this, the gallant Laurens was killed in resisting a foraging party. Washington having spent the winter in constant and ar- duous correspondence, repaired in the middle of April to the camp at Morristown, and a few days after continued his journey, and took up his quarters at Newburgh.* An event happened at this time which exasperated the inhabitants of the colonies greatly, and filled Washington with the deepest indignation. Captain Huddy, commanding a small detachment in Monmouth county, New Jersey, was seized by a party of refugees and taken to New York. A few days after, he was dragged from prison, and carried by Captain Lippincott, at the head of a band of refugees, to Middletown, and there hung. This gallant officer, unmoved by the brutality and ribaldry of his enemies, met his fate with perfect composure. Washington, acting under the de- cision of a Council of War, immediately wrote to Sir Henry Clinton, demanding that Lippincott should be given up. The British general refusing to comply with the demand, it was determined to execute an English prisoner of equal rank. Lots being drawn by the officers, a young man, only nineteen years of age, named Captain Asgill, w r as designated as the victim. The extreme youth of this officer rendered it still more painful for Washington to adhere to his original determination. Previous to his ascertaining who was to be the sufferer he had said, "Keenly wounded as my feelings will be, at the deplorable destiny of the unhappy victim, no gleam of hope can arise to him but from the conduct of the enemy them- selves." And again, "I will receive no application, nor answer any letter on the subject, which does not inform me that ample satisfaction is made for the death of Captain Huddy on the perpetrators of that horrid deed." * The building he occupied has been retained in its original state, and is now owned by the State of New York, and made the depository of relics of the Revolution. LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 405 In the meantime Sir Guy Carleton arrived in New York to assume the command, in place of Clinton. * Previous to his departure great changes had taken place in the aspect of affairs in Parliament. On the 2d of March, General Conway introduced a resolution, declaring that a further prosecution of the war in America for the purpose of sub- duing the colonies was impracticable. The Ministerial party endeavored to dispose of this by a motion to adjourn. The House divided, when the ministry was found to be in a mi- nority of nineteen. Conway then moved that an address, based on that resolution, be presented to his Majesty. The die was cast. The news spread like the wind, and in a short time the city was in a state of intense excitement. Lord Stormount, anticipating some public demonstration, " wrote to the lord mayor and aldermen to prevent, if pos- sible, illuminations in the city." They were accordingly prevented ; but in the gallery on the top of the Monument there blazed more than a hundred lamps.* Long and loud acclamations rent the air, announcing to Lord North that the hour of his overthrow had come. The different ambas sadors from the various courts of Europe immediately hur- ried off expresses to announce the momentous news. The king's reply to the address was equivocal, but to every one acquainted with the state of affairs it was evident that the opposition had gained a permanent ascendency. On the 20th, Lord Surrey made a formal motion respecting the re- moval of ministers. Lord North interrupted him, saying that the ministry was about to resign their duties.f As a last desperate expedient to retain their places, the Cabinet * Vide Journal and Letters of Curwen, by George Atkinson Ward, page 336. t It was on " this occasion Lord Surrey happened to espy Arnold in the House, and sent him a message to depart, threatening, in case of refusal, to move for breaking up the gallery ; to which the general answered, that he was introduced t'.iere by a member ; to which Lord Surrey replied, he might, under that condition, remain, if he would promise never to enter it again with which General Arnold complied." Vide Curwen's Journal and Letters by Mr. Ward. 406 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. proposed a dissolution of Parliament. This was defeated by Thurlowe, the Lord High Chancellor, who, with a virtue that honored him more than his office, refused to affix the seals to such an order. But as the prospect of peace brightened, the discontent and murmurs of the troops increased. A long season of idleness had given them time to brood over and discuss their grievances, while they saw that the termination of the war would be the signal of their dispersion and the end of their power. Moreover, the independence of the country naturally begat questions and discussions respecting the form of government to be adopted. They had not origin- ally taken up arms against a monarchy, but against its op- pressive acts. The English government was considered by many of the wisest men of the day to be a model one, and they wished only to see its like adopted by their country when its liberty was once secured. Besides, the most tho- rough republicans had seen quite enough of the government of a Congress. It had lost the respect of both civilians and officers. It was clear, therefore, that a head was needed. But this head must be invested with power sufficient to con- trol and overrule Congress to a great extent, or it would not possess the efficiency required to coerce obedience. Circum- stances, of course, indicated Washington as that head, and the next question naturally arose under what title should . he govern ? The officers around Newburgh called meeting after meeting, and warm and eager discussions evinced the deep interest the army took in the form of government that should be adopted. At length an old and respected officer, Colonel Nicola, was empowered to sound Washington on this delicate point. He, therefore, addressed him a letter, in which, after going over the points referred to above, he, in a circuitous manner, at length succeeded in communicating the plain fact, that the army wished him to be "Kixa." This letter took Washington by surprise. An unexpected LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 407 danger had arisen before him an abyss suddenly opened at his very feet. The army was actually assuming the control of the government the military power appointing the civil. And, more than this, disgusted with the working of republican institutions, it was thinking seriously of setting up a king. Washington seemed doomed ever to wrestle with evils. No sooner did one disappear before his wisdom or strength, than from an unexpected quarter another rose to fill him with grief and oppress him with anxiety. But he never seemed to despond, and nothing exhibits the grandeur of his character more than the promptness and courage with which he met and overcame every new form of danger. But not in the darkest hour of his country not in the midst of his starving, naked, dying troops not when overborne and scattered by the enemy under no blow with which fate had yet smitten him, did his heart so sink as under the revelation made in this letter. What ! become a king over a free people who had struggled so nobly for their freedom dash to earth the hopes which had borne them up in the midst of such trials and sufferings, and wrong so deeply human faith, and confidence, and rights, as turn traitor at last ? To hint that HE was capable of such turpitude, was striking at the very soul of honor. Pride, grief, resentment, anxiety, commingled and intense, swelled his bosom. " Sir," said he, in reply, " with a mix- ture of great surprise and astonishment, I have read with attention the sentiments you have submitted to my perusal. Be assured, sir, no occurrence in the course of the war has given me more painful sensations than your information of there being such ideas existing in the army as you have expressed, and as I must view with abhorrence and repre- hend with severity. For the present the communication of them will rest in my own bosom, unless some further agita- tion of the matter shall make a disclosure necessary. " I am much at a loss to conceive what part of my conduct 408 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. could have given encouragement to an address, which to me seems big with the greatest mischiefs that can befall my country. If I am not deceived in the knowledge of myself, you could not have found a person to whom your schemcvS are more disagreeable. At the same time, in justice to my own feelings, I must add, that no man possesses a more sin- cere wish to see ample justice done to the army than I do, and as far as my powers and influence in a constitu- tional way extend, they shall be employed to the utmost of my abilities to effect it, should there be occasion. Let me conjure you, then, if you have any regard for your country, concern for yourself or posterity, or respect for me, to ban- ish those thoughts from your mind, and never communicate as from yourself or any one else a sentiment of the like nature." Every line of this letter bears indications of a powerful internal struggle a struggle to maintain that self-compo- sure and moderation he was wont to exhibit, but which, un- der this new evil, threatened to forsake him. Incomparable man ! intrenched so deeply in virtue that temptations and the arrows of misfortune rebound from his bosom without even leaving the mark of their contact. Yet this act seems so in keeping with Washington's whole character and con- duct, that it hardly strikes us as extraordinary. Virtues we never expect to find in others we should be surprised not to see exhibited in him. His actions are all so elevated above the common track of life, that it would disappoint us to find any one of them tainted with the imperfections of our lower sphere. So harmonious is his character in every part, that its colossal proportions can be understood only by com- paring him in detail with other men in similar circumstances. The case of young Asgill continued to trouble Washington exceedingly, and his whole correspondence shows a constant and severe struggle between his feelings and his sense of duty. Sir Guy Carleton finding, however, that he was im- MOLL 1'ITCIIER AT MONMOUTH. LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 411 movable in his determination to sacrifice the young man unless justice was done to Lippincott, had the latter arrested and tried by court martial. It appeared, or was made to appear on trial, that the latter acted under the authority of the "Board of Directors of the Associated Loyalists" and hence was not personally responsible. This transfer of guilt from the individual to a body or corporation has always been a favorite method to escape responsibility. Of course, the Board of Directors could not be hung they could only be disbanded, which was done a task not demanding very great sacrifice on the part of Sir Guy Carleton, as he had in his pocket the power to make a treaty of peace with the colonies. This manoeuvre, however, complicated the mat- ter so much that Washington referred it again to Congress, which seemed, by its tardiness, willing to let death claim its victim in the ordinary way. Washington wrote bitterly of this neglect of Congress, declaring that his own treatment of that body did not warrant it, and justifies himself in making the complaint, by asking, " When no notice is taken of my application ; when measures I might otherwise adopt are suspended when my own feelings are wounded, and others are perhaps suffering by the delay, how is it possible for me to forbear expressing my disquietude ?" In the meantime, young AsgilPs mother, crushed to the earth by the dreadful fate impending over her only son, a mere boy in years, appealed, with all a mother's tenderness and earnestness, to the French ministry to intercede with Washington to spare his life. The letter was shown to the king and queen, who were so affected by its pathetic prayer, that they directed the Count de Vergennes to request, as a favor to France, that Captain Asgill might be set at liberty. This spurred up the tardy Congress to action, and the young man was restored to his family. Sir Guy Carleton at length, in August, gave notice that preliminaries for a treaty of peace had begun at Paris. The 412 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. war was now closed, and the French troops marched north previous to their embarkation for France. Washington, to show a mark of respect to his allies, took his army down the river to meet them at King's Ferry. He ordered all the troops to be clad and equipped with the clothing and arms furnished by France, and those taken from the English ma- gazines at Yorktown, which the French had generously sur- rendered to the suffering Americans, and drawn up in two opposite lines some distance apart. Between these the en- tire French army passed, with colors flying the Americans playing the whole time a French march. These gallant soldiers, with the sensitiveness peculiar to their nice, felt this expression of gratitude and compliment deeply, and made the heavens ring with their enthusiastic acclamations. The two armies encamped on and near Verplanck's Point for a month, when the French departed for Boston, and the Americans returned to Newburgh. But just as the evils of war were disappearing, more threatening danger appeared in the attitude of the army. The prospect of relief and of prosperity to the country did not better their condition, much less forbode any good in the future. At the very time officers and men were entertaining their French allies at Verplanck's Point, they were in a state of the greatest destitution. At Yorktown, old Baron Steuben had to sell his horse in order to raise funds with which to give a dinner to the British officers ; and in the last meeting of the troops of the two nations, the American officers were filled with mortification that they were unable to return the civilities of the French. Their families were suffering at home, while they had not the means to pay for their own daily expenses. Says Washington, in writing to the Secretary of War, "Only conceive then the mortification they must suffer (even the general officers) when they cannot invite a French officer, a visiting friend, or a traveling acquaint ance, to a better repast than bad whisky (and not always LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 413 that) and a bit of beef, without vegetables, will afford them." In speaking of the result of neglecting to provide for the army, he says, with that clear foresight which at times almost amounts to the spirit of prophecy, "Under present circumstances, when I see such a number of men goaded by a thousand stings of reflection on the past and of anticipation on the future, about'to be turned on the world, soured by penury and by what they call the ingratitude of the public, involved in debts, without one farthing of money to carry them home, after having spent the flower of their days, and many of them their patrimonies, in establishing the freedom and independence of their country, and suffered every thing that human nature is capable of enduring on this side of death. I repeat it, when I consider these irri- tating circumstances, without one thing to soothe their feel- ings or dispel the gloomy prospects, I cannot avoid appre- hending that a train of evils will follow, of a very serious and distressing nature. * * I wish not to heighten the shades of the picture so far as the reality would justify in doing it I could give anecdotes of patriotism and distress which have scarcely ever been paralleled, never surpassed in the history of mankind. But you may rely upon it, the patience and long suffering of this army are almost exhausted, and that there never was so great a spirit of discontent as at present. While in the field I think it may be kept from breaking into acts of outrage ; but when we retire into win- ter quarters, unless the storm is previously dissipated, I can not be at ease respecting the consequences. // is high time for a peace." With such words on his lips, and such gloomy thoughts filling his heart, Washington had now marched his army into winter quarters, and sat down to wait the result. He wished to visit Mount Vernon, but dared not leave the army. As in the field of battle, so in every place where danger thickened, he interposed his person and influence to save his country. His predictions proved true ; the army 414 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. soon became unsettled, and from discontent proceeded to loud murmurs and open menaces. It addressed Congress, but its appeals were met with an unsatisfactory response, and there now seemed no means left of obtaining justice except their swords. At length, March 10th, an anonymous notification of a meeting of the officers at the Temple* appeared, followed by a spirited and stirring address, written, as it afterward appeared, by Major, subsequently General Armstrong. This address was well calculated to arouse the army, already in a highly inflammable state. The author, after speaking of the disappointment every one had felt at the indifference of government to the wants and rights of the army, saying that " faith has its limits as well as its temper, and there are points beyond which neither can be stretched without sinking into cowardice or plunging into credulity," takes a survey of the past, and in a series of startling questions asks how their services have been rewarded their toils and sufferings received. Rousing their indignation by the re- capitulation of their wrongs, and the contemptuous treat- ment of their humble petitions, he exclaims " If this then be your treatment, while the swords you wear are necessary for the defense of America, what have you to expect from peace, when your voice shall sink and your strength dissi- pate by division ; when those very swords, the instruments and companions of your glory, shall be taken from your sides, and no remaining mark of military distinction left but your wants, infirmities and scars ? Can you then con- sent to be the only sufferers by this revolution, and retiring from the field, grow old in poverty, wretchedness and con- * A large log building had been erected on the camp-ground in which to hold meetings of the officers. It was to be dedicated the " Temple of Virtue," by a ball, which Washington opened with the beautiful Mrs. Warren as a partner. But after the ball broke up, the officers spent the remainder of the night in such scenes of revelry and riot that it was called simply the " Temple." LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 415 tempt ? Can you consent to wade through the vile mire of dependency, and owe the miserable remnant of that life to charity which has hitherto been spent in honor ? If you can go, and carry with you the jests of Tories and the scorn of Whigs, the ridicule, and what is worse, the pity of tie world! Go, starve, and be forgotten !" But if they revolt at this, and would " oppose tyranny under whatever garb it may assume," he says, " awake, attend to your situation, and re- dress yourselves! If the present moment be lost, every future effort is in vain ; and your threats then will be empty as your entreaties now." He bids them assume a bolder tone appoint men to draw up not a " memorial," but a " last remonstrance" tell Congress that with them rest the momentous question of war or peace between it and the army that nothing but redress shall prevail on them to abandon their arms ; and if the war, not yet settled, should be protracted, they would, in case their remonstrance was unheeded, " leave the government to its fate," and " retire to some unsettled country to smile in turn, and mock when their fear cometh on." Such language and sentiments fell like coals of fire on the wronged and embittered hearts of the troops, and portended a fearful explosion. The crisis that Washington foretold had arrived, but Heaven enabled him to meet it. He immediately issued an order, calm in its tone and without severity in its language, simply post- poning the meeting till next Saturday.* By this sagacious movement he disarmed opposition and gained time. He spent the interval in personal conversations with the prin- cipal officers, and by his great influence, wise counsel and promises, allayed the agitation, so that, before the day of meeting, he had undone all the mischief caused by the address. The Temple was thronged with officers long before the * This caused another address more moderate in its tone. These are known as the famous Newburgh Addresses. 416 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. hour appointed for assembling had arrived. Washington, accompanied by his escort, rode over from Newburgh, some three miles distant, and dismounting at the door, walked slowly and solemnly to the raised platform at the farther end. The house was still as the grave, and every eye was bent on their beloved commander, who, like a pillar of fire, had moved before them in the long night of their suffer- ings. Taking out his spectacles, he pleasantly remarked, " You see, gentlemen, I have grown blind as well as gray in your service." This simple expression, falling as it did on hearts strung to the highest tension, thrilled like an electric spark through the assembly. As he glanced over the throng of officers, and saw the veterans on whom he had so often called, and not in vain, in the hour of battle and in the day of danger, he felt sure of support and of success. The address, calm, kind, conciliating and sympathetic, was listened to with breathless interest. "When it was fin- ished, Washington, without adding another word, passed out and remounted his horse. Knox immediately arose and moved that the thanks of the officers be rendered to the commander-in-chief for his address, " and to assure him that the officers reciprocate his affectionate expressions with the greatest sincerity of which the human heart is capable." A committee was appointed to draft resolutions, which re- ported in a half an hour, declaring " that no circumstance of distress or danger shall induce a conduct that might tend to sully the reputation which they had acquired at the price of their blood and eight years' service." It was also re- solved, that " the officers of the army view with abhorrence and reject with disdain the infamous propositions contained in a late anonymous address," etc. The conspiracy was ex- ploded, the crisis past, and the danger over. Soon after the news of a preliminary treaty of peace, signed at Paris, being received, Washington issued an order fixing the 19th of April, 1787, as the day on which it LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 417 should be publicly proclaimed to the army. At 12 o'clock, the Temple was thronged, and the joyful intelligence com- municated amid deafening plaudits. At evening the chap- lains, in accordance with the orders of the chief, offered up their thanksgiving and prayers at the head of the several brigades. All the military prisoners were set at liberty in honor of the event, and the American camp shook till a late hour with the shouts and laughter of the soldiers. Having addressed an able, patriotic circular to the several States, Washington made a tour north to visit the battle-fields in that section of the country. Visiting Saratoga, Ticonde- roga and Crown Point he went west as far as Fort Schuy- ler, being absent nineteen days. On his return, by request of the President of Congress, then sitting at Princeton, he repaired to the latter place to give the aid of his counsel in measures to be adopted for the common welfare. A large proportion of the officers and soldiers having gone home on furlough during the summer, Congress, oa the 18th of October, issued a proclamation discharging them and all others from service. The army was thus disbanded, with the exception of a small force left at Newburgh. The scene presented at this final breaking up of the army was most pitiable. Officers and soldiers were left without funds to reach their homes, and there were cases of individual suffering and destitution which would move the coldest heart. Playing the tune of Roslin Castle, the mournful requiem, to the measure of which they had always borne their dead comrades to the grave, they paraded for the last time, and then turned sorrowfully away. The only conso- lation left the poor soldiers, as they scattered over the coun- try, was the farewell address of Washington to them, in which he praised their valor and patriotism, and promised to guard their interests. At length the orders arrived for the evacuation of New York, and Washington returned to West Point, where he 418 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. met the few remaining troops and moved down to Harlaem. On the morning of the 25th November, General Knox ad- vanced to where the Third Avenue and Bowery now meet, and awaited the withdrawal of the British troops. As they retired he advanced, and as the last British soldier left the soil of freedom, cannon on the battery thundered out their joy. Washington and Governor Clinton then made a formal entrance, escorted by a corps of Westchester light-horse. The two rode side by side, followed by the Lieutenant Gov- ernor, and Council four abreast, these by Knox and the officers on horseback, eight abreast, and they in turn by mounted citizens, the procession being closed by the Speaker of the Assembly and citizens on foot. The next Monday, Clinton gave a grand entertainment to the French minister ind officers, and the city rung to the clamors and joyful shouts of the people. Thursday, the 4th of December, was fixed upon for the Gnal leave-taking of Washington with his officers. This was the most trying event in his whole career, and he sum- moned all his self-command to meet it with composure Knox, and Greene, and Hamilton, and Steuben, and others assembled in Francis' tavern and waited with beating hearts the arrival of their chief. Not a sound broke the silence as he entered, save the clatter of scabbards as the whole group rose to do him reverence. Casting his eye around, he saw the sad and mournful countenances of those who had been his companions in arms through the long years of darkness that had past. Shoulder to shoulder they had pressed by his side through the smoke of the conflict, and with their brave arms around him met every shock of misfortune with undaunted souls. He had heard their battle-shout answer his call in the hour of deepest peril, and seen them bear his standard triumphantly on to victory. Brave hearts were they all and true on whom he had leaned, and not in vain. A thousand proofs of their devotion came rushing on his LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 419 memory their toils and conflicts rose before him, and the whole history of the past with its checkered scenes swept by, till his heart sunk in affection and grief. Advancing slowly to the table, he lifted the glass to his lips and said, in a voice choked with emotion : " With a heart full of gra- titude and love, I now take leave of you; I most devoutly wish that your latter days may be a-s prosperous and happy as your former ones have been glorious and honorable." A mournful, profound silence followed this short address, when Knox, the friend of his bosom, advanced to say farewell. But neither could utter a word Knox reached forth his hand, when Washington opening his arms took the stern, warrior to his heart. In silence, that was more eloquent than all language, each advanced in turn and was clasped in his em- brace. Washington dared not trust himself to speak, and looking a silent farewell, turned to the door. A corps of light infantry was drawn up on either side to receive him, and as he passed slowly through the lines, a gigantic soldier, who had moved beside him in the terrible march on Trenton, stepped forth from the ranks, and reaching out his arms, exclaimed, "Farewell, my dear General, farewell!" Wash- ington seized his hardy hand in both of his and wrung it convulsively. In a moment all discipline was at an end, and the soldiers broke their order, and rushing around him seized him by the hands, covering them with tears and sobs of sorrow. This was too much for even his strong nature, and as he moved away his broad chest heaved and swelled above the tide of feelings that had at length burst the sway of his mighty will, and the big tears rolled unchecked down his face. Passing on to Whitehall, he entered a barge, and as it moved out into the bay he rose and waved a mute adieu to the noble band on shore. A mournful cry was borne back over the water, and the impressive scene was over. He had now severed every link that bound him to public 420 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. life except the formal surrender of his commission to Con- gress. Passing on to Annapolis where this body was in ses- sion, he was followed by the excited population, escorted by military, and hailed with shouts at every step of his pro- gress. On the 23d of December he publicly gave in to Congress his resignation as commander-in-chief of the army. A profound silence reigned during the address, and many an eye was suffused as he closed with the impressive words, "Having now finished the work assigned me, I retire from the great theatre of action, and bidding an affectionate fare- well to this august body under whose orders I have so long acted, I here offer my commission and take my leave of all the employments of public life." The next morning he left for his farm, having for eight years and a half served his country without reward, and achieved her independence without a spot on his name. As he slowly travels back to his quiet home, bereft of every title, a simple American citizen neither asking nor wishing honor, he is an object of surpassing interest. The history of the world cannot match him. After long ye&rs of toil, of suffering, and of danger, he had arrived at the summit of power only to descend quietly again, leaving all his authority with that Congress which had so often distrusted, neglected and even plotted against him. Superior to temptation, superior to passion, too lofty even for unholy ambition, he showed how unjust had been their suspicions, how impolitic and injurious their opposi- tion, and how much above them he had been both in wis- dom and in virtue. It required no effort for him to surrender power. Having wielded it solely for his country's good, he laid it down as a burden the moment his country's peace and liberty were secured. Arriving at home, Washington found that during eight years' absence his affairs had become sadly deranged, and he immediately set about their adjustment. AWGDGBE, LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 423 The executive council of Pennsylvania had instructed the delegates of the State to lay before Congress the question of remuneration for his long and faithful services. But the latter would listen to no proposition on the subject. Simple in his tastes and habits, he had enough for his wants and sought only repose. At first it was difficult to roll away the weight of care that had so long rested on him. He could not, he said, get the better of the habit of reflecting on the business of the day immediately after waking, but as he be- came gradually accustomed to his freedom, he felt, as he wrote in a private letter, "like a wearied traveler, who, after treading many a painful step with a heavy burden on his shoulders, is eased of the latter, .having reached the haven to which all the former were directed, and from his house-top is looking back and tracing with an eager eye the meanders by which he escaped the quicksands arid mires which lay in his way, and into which none but the all-powerful Guide and Disposer of events could have prevented his falling." In a letter to Lafayette, to whom he always opened his heart, he said, " At length I am become a private citizen on the banks of the Potomac, and under the shadow of my own vine and fig-tree, free from the bustle of a camp and the busy scenes of public life, and am solacing myself with fhose tranquil enjoyments of which the soldier who is ever in pursuit of fame, the statesman whose watchful days and sleepless nights are spent in devising schemes to promote the welfare of his own, perhaps the ruin of other countries, as if this globe was insufficient for us all, and the courtier who is always watching the countenance of his prince, in hopes of catching a gracious smile, can have very little con- ception. I have not only retired from all public employ- ments, but I am retiring within myself, and shall be able to view the solitary walk, and tread the paths of private life with a heartfelt satisfaction. Envious of none, I am deter- mined to be pleased with all ; and this, my dear friend, 424 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. being the order of ray march, I will move gently down the stream of life until I sleep with my fathers." How simple yet self- sustained how elevated in his own grand thoughts above all that this world can bestow. Through all the mazes and darkness and storms of the last eight years apparently chained and fettered by circum- stances to the earth, he had nevertheless, in the might of a great soul, been steadily soaring up to the serene heights of contemplation, to the pure atmosphere of unworldly thought. During the summer Washington devoted most of his time to the improvement of his farm and in entertaining guests that crowded to see him from almost every quarter of the world. Lafayette again visiting this country in August, he had an affectionate interview with Washington, and then started on a northern tour, while the latter made his sixth and last expedition west to visit his lands in that section. Supplied with tents, pack-horses and provisions, he set out in September on a journey of six hundred and eighty miles through the wilderness. He went by the old Braddock route, where had occurred the most important events of his early life. What strange reminiscences that journey must have called up, and what a change had passed over his des- tiny and that of his country since he first trod that desolate region. As he stood by Braddock's grave, the past and pre- sent met, and presented strange and most striking contrasts. A mere stripling, dressed in an Indian hunting-shirt, he had first passed over this route on his perilous journey as a com- missioner to the French. The second time he traversed it in search of his first battle. The third ended in the terrible defeat of Braddock ; and now, after such a long interval, he trod it a portion neither of French or English territory, but of a free land of which he was the deliverer. Having sur- veyed his lands on the Monongahela, he returned by a long and tedious route through the wilderness. The result of LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 425 liis investigations were given in an able letter to the Gov- ernor of Virginia, in which he portrayed clearly the advan- tage that would arise from a water communication through the country. With that sagacious forethought which was so characteristic of him, he had from the first foreseen and foretold the advantages of such communications both in the north and south. On his return he again met Lafayette at Richmond, where both were received with public honors. The latter then accompanied him to Mount Vernon, and the two friends en- joyed that sweet communion which is known only to pure and virtuous hearts. His visit being completed, Lafayette reluctantly took his departure, accompanied by Washington as far as Annapolis. The tender nature of the relation that existed between these great and good men, and the warmth of Washington's affection, may be seen in the following simple, touching letter to the Marquis after their separation, December 8th. Says he, " In the moment of our separation, upon the road as I traveled, and every hour since, I have felt all that love, respect, and attachment for you with which length of years, close connection, and your merits have inspired me. I often asked myself, as our carriages separated, whether that was the last sight I should ever have of you ? And though I wished to say no, my fears answered yes. I called to mind the days of my youth, and found thej T had long since fled, to return no more ; that I now was descending the hill that I had been fifty-two years climbing, and that, though I was blest with a good constitution, I was of a short lived family, and might soon expect to be entombed with my fathers. These thoughts darkened the shades and gave a gloom to the picture, and consequently to my prospect of seeing you again." In consequence of his letter to the Governor on the im- portance of internal navigation, the Legislature organized 426 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. two companies (the Potomac and James "River) and gave to him as a compliment fifty shares of the former and a hun- dred of the latter. These he refused to accept, unless he was allowed to appropriate them to some public use. This was granted, and he made over before his death the shares of the James River Company to Liberty Hall Academy in Rockbridge county, now Washington College, which has been materially benefited by the donation. The fifty shares of the Potomac Company were bequeathed for the endowment of a University in the District of Columbia. What has become of them perhaps the directors of the Chesapeake and Ohio Canal Company, into which they were merged, can tell. During this year he became interested in a scheme of Lady Huntington for civilizing and Christian- izing the Indians, but Congress declining to grant any land for the colonists that were to be sent out in accordance with this plan, it fell through. The past year Washington had devoted himself almost entirely to his farm, and having at length got it in a proper state, he the next spring [1785] turned his attention to ornamenting his grounds by trans- planting forest trees. He saw every tree taken up, moved, and put down in the place assigned it. He also added to his stock of fruit trees, and might be seen almost daily in the season for pruning, with knife in hand, clipping his orchards. That hand, which had so long grasped the sword and made its light terrible on the battle-field, now wielded with far greater delight the pruning hook. Still the privacy and seclusion he sought were not wholly attainable, for, though holding no public place, he was the most public man on the continent. Hence, between corres- pondence, applications for aid or advice, and a constant throng of visitors, only brief respites of tranquil leisure could be enjoyed. Nothing but the regularity of his habits allowed him any privacy. Rising before the sun, he shut himself up in his study till breakfast time. After breakfast LIFE OF. WASHINGTON. 427 he mounted his horse, taking such guests as chose to accom- pany him, and rode over his farms. On his return he again withdrew to his study till three o'clock, when he dined, and devoted the rest of the day to amusement. In October of this year, Houdon took the bust of Wash ington previous to^ making his celebrated statue of him, which had been ordered by the State of Virginia. Chantry and Canova both executed statues of him, but Houdon's is considered the best ever taken. While Washington was thus enjoying the comparative quiet of his home avocations, events were gathering to a crisis, which showed clearly that the arm that had saved the republic in war would soon be needed to rescue it from as great perils in peace. The impossibility of governing the country by a Congress grew every day more and more apparent With such a mediator as Washington between it and conflicting interests and sections, it had floundered through the war almost miraculously, but now, when left entirely to itself, it only got involved deeper and deeper in embarrassments. Besides, if the jealousies of the separate States prevented them from yielding competent powers to Congress to save the country from an invading army, it was clear they would operate with stronger force in peace. This state of things Washington declared would, unless remedied, effect " our downfall as a nation." " This," he says, " is as clear to me as A, B, C, and I think we have opposed Great Britain and have arrived at the present state of peace and independence to very little purpose, if we cannot conquer our own prejudices." He declared that, although a simple citizen, and hence as liable as any one to feel the effects of tyrannical legislation, he had no fear of " too great an ex- tension of Federal powers," but he " predicted the worst consequences from a half-starved, limping government, that appears to be always moving on crutches and tottering at every step." Again, in writing to Mr. Jay, he says : " To 23 428 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. be fearful of investing Congress, constituted as that body is, with ample authorities for national purposes, appears to me the climax of popular absurdity and madness. Could Con- gress exert them for the detriment of the public without injuring themselves in an equal or greater proportion ? Are not their interests inseparably connected with those of their constituents ?" On the contrary, he feared that they would be too timid in the use of authority, held back by the fear of losing their popularity. Without going into the particu- lar measures in which .this jealousy of giving too much power to Congress exhibited itself, the result at length reached was a confederacy too weak to hold together. Unless a change could be effected, therefore, a dissolution of the Union was inevitable. This deplorable state of things filled Washington with the deepest anxiety and grief. To see the goodly fabric he had reared with so much toil and care fall to the ground, and the nation he had saved from bondage become the by-word and scoff of kings, was a contemplation from which he turned away with an aching heart. He strove by every exertion in his power to avert such a catas- trophe. Events at length shaped matters so that the threat- ened peril was escaped. Maryland and Virginia appointed commissioners to form a compact relative to the navigation of the rivers Potomac and Pocomoke and part of Chesa- peake bay. These proposed other commissioners to make arrangements for maintaining a naval force in the Chesa- peake, and to establish a tariff of duties on imports, to which the laws of both States should conform.* This sug- gested to the Legislature of Virginia to request other States to send deputies also to the convention to take into consi- deration the trade of the United States, and adopt regula- tions, and suggest laws to Congress for an harmonious arrangement of the whole question of internal commerce. * Vide Marshall's Life of Washington. LIFE OP WASHINGTON. 429 Only five States sent deputies, and these without power to settle anything. They, however, accomplished one grand work they made a report, showing the evils of the present federal system and recommended a convention of deputies from all the States to take the matter up. Virginia ap- pointed seven, Washington heading the list. He, however, hesitated about being " swept back into the tide of public affairs." Besides, he had written a circular letter to the States, declaring his intention to resign the presidency of the Cincinnati Society, and saying he could not be present at their next meeting in Philadelphia. Now this meeting was to take place at the very time appointed for the con- vention. If he should, therefore, go to the latter, after he had refused to attend the former, the distinction would seem to be invidious in short, it would look like a desertion of his old companions in arms. Especially would this con- struction be natural, as the society was very unpopular being denounced unsparingly as anti-republican. It had a badge like foreign nobility it admitted foreign officers membership was hereditary in the family of the members, while it allowed the accumulation of funds to any amount. Although Washington had through his influence shorn it of its most objectionable features, and thus silenced some of the heaviest attacks of its enemies, still it was unpopular. But Congress having sanctioned the convention, thus giving it a legal character, and so arranged matters that the meet- ing of the Society of the Cincinnati should be a week earlier, thus giving Washington an opportunity to attend it first and explain his views, he at length, at the solicitation of men earnest for the welfare of their country, yielded his scruples and accepted the appointment. The convention assembled the second Monday in May, with every State but Rhode Island represented. Wash- ington was appointed president, and the result of its deliberations was the CONSTITUTION OF THE UNITED STATES. 430 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. This is not the place to- go into the history of that con- vention. Its deliberations lasted four months, and the con- clusions it came to were the fruit of a compromise. That jealousy which had hitherto rendered the confederacy com- paratively powerless, on the one hand, and the strong de- sire to see great power concentrated in the Federal head, on the other, operated as antagonisms, and produced at last that which neither party could fully approve. The consti- tution was not stringent enough for the Federalists, and too stringent for the Democrats and thus being a compromise, had the most determined, positive men of both parties for its enemies. Such patriots as Patrick Henry, Colonel Ma- son, Gerry and others opposed it. It was, however, sub- mitted to the different States, and Washington waited with the deepest solicitude their decision. The prospects of its adoption were poor at first, but they gradually brightened, and at length it became the Constitution of the United States. The first step, as provided by the new constitution, was the election of a President. All eyes were immediately turned to Washington. But averse to entering again the cares of public life, unwilling to incur the suspicion of being ambitious, and loth to part with pursuits so congenial to his tastes, he was disinclined at first to yield to the gen- eral wish. Being plied, however, on the only weak point he possessed, love of country, he was at last persuaded to accept the nomination, and was elected first President almost by acclamation. LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 4ol CHAPTER XIV. Washington prepares to leave Mount Vcrnon He Visits Fredericksburg, to lake leave of his Mother He Departs for New York The Journey Triumphal Arch at Trenton Reception at Elizabethtown Arrival and Welcome at New York Installation of Washington as First President of the United States He Declines Compensation for his Services Illness, and Recovery Debate on Titles Death of the Mother of Washington Organization of the Departments Washington makes a Tour through the Eastern States The Seat of Government is Removed from New York to Philadelphia Establishment of a National Bank Washing- ton Visits the Southern States Development of Factions He Desires to Retire at the Close of his Term of Administration Is Induced to Serve a Second Time Re-inaugurated President of the United States The French Revolution Eng- land Declares War against France Washington Issues a Proclamation of Strict Neutrality Opposition and Enmity M. Genet's Arrival, and Assumption Washington Requests his Recall Relations with England Jay's Mission Op- position to the Tax on Distilled Spirits Proclamation to the Insurgents Calling out of the Militia Restoration of Peace Jay's Treaty Its Ratification Resig- nation of Randolph, Secretary of State Washington's Private Life Description of his Appearance on State Occasions Imprisonment of Lafayette Washing- ton's Successful Intercession in his Behalf Washington's Farewell Address Election of John Adams Washington Returns to Mount Vernon His Life in Retirement Difficulties with France Washington appointed Commandcr-in- Chief He Returns to Philadelphia to Organize the Army Interview with Dr. Logan Napoleon Terms of Accommodation at Paris Washington at Mount Vernon His Last Illness His Death His Character. THE election of Washington being in effect unanimous, he was perfectly aware of the result, as soon as mere news- paper returns could be received from different parts of the country, and hence at once began to make preparations for leaving Mount Vernon. Speaking of the long interval be- fore entering on his duties, he, in a letter to Knox, said, " This delay may be compared to a reprieve, for in confi- dence I tell you, (with the world it would obtain little cre- dence,) that my movements to the seat of government will be accompanied by feelings, not unlike those of a culprit who is going to a place of execution, so unwilling am I, in the evening of a life nearly consumed in public cares, to 432 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. quit a peaceful abode for an ocean of difficulties." His last act before commencing his journey north, was one of filial devotion. His aged mother lived in Fredericksburg, and thither he directed his steps. After embracing her, he told her of his election to the office of President, and added that, before he entered upon his duties, he had come to bid her " an affectionate' farewell." " So soon," said he, " as the public business which must necessarily be encountered in forming a new government, can be dispensed with, I shall hasten back." " You will see me no more," she mourn- fully replied. " My great age and the disease which is rapidly approaching my vitals, warn me that I shall not be long in this world. But you, George, fulfill the high desti- nies which Heaven has assigned you. Go, my son, and may Heaven and your mother's blessing be with you, always." Overcome by the solemnity of her manner and the declara- tion, which he knew to be true, he leaned his head on her aged shoulder and wept. That great grand heart, which made him so terrible on the battle-field, was yet full of the tenderest affections, and clinging still to that dear parent, whose love for him was deep and unfailing as the ocean- tide, he wept like a child when told he should see her no more. Not when on the disastrous field he stops and gathers around him, by his majestic bearing, the broken fragments of his army, nor when he stands at the head of the republic which he has saved, does he appear so great, so worthy of the adoration of men, as here when he leans and weeps on the neck of his mother. The scene and the characters furnish one of the noblest subjects for an artist found in American history. From the time that the result of Washington's election was known, till his departure for New York, congratulations and warm expressions of delight poured in upon him in such a constant flow, that if anything could have reconciled him to the abandonment of private life, the pleasure he was $F*0^r&g WASHINGTON TAKING LEAVE OF THE ARMT. LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 435 evidently giving to others would have effected it. Still it required a great effort to surrender the quiet of his home, and the pursuits so congenial to his tastes, for the turmoil of public life. In a letter to Edward Rutledge, he says : "You know, my dear sir, I had concentrated all my schemes, all my views, all my wishes within the narrow circle of domestic enjoyment. Though I flatter myself the world will do me the justice to believe, that, at my time of life and in my circumstances, nothing but a conviction of duty could have induced me to depart from my resolution of remaining in retirement, yet I greatly apprehend that my countrymen will expect too much of me." At length, on the 16th of April, he bade a reluctant adieu to his farm and rural occupations, and commenced, what was at that time the long, tedious journey to New York. En stead of being elated with the proud position he was to occupy, or of feeling his pulses quicken at the whisper of ambition, a touching sadness pervades his whole conduct, and he inserts in his diary : "About ten o'clock I bade adieu to Mount Vernon, to private life and to domestic felicity ; dnd with a mind oppressed with more anxious and painful sensations than I have words to express, set out for New York in company with Mr. Thompson and Colonel Hum- phreys, with the best disposition to render service to my country in obedience to its call, but with less hope of an- swering its expectations." His journey was more like the triumphal march of a Ro- man conqueror, than the quiet progress of an American citizen. The news of his approach preceded him, and from every farm-house and shop and hamlet from every valley and green mountain slope, the grateful delighted people came swarming in crowds along the highway to greet him and shouts, and blessings, and delirious welcome marked every step of his passage. At Trenton, the inhabitants wreathed with garlands the bridge of Assanpink, where he 436 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. lay encamped the 1 night before he marched on Princeton, and over it bent an arch on which was inscribed : THE HERO WHO DEFENDED THE MOTHERS, WlLL ALSO PROTECT THE DAUGHTERS. At the farther extremity a crowd of little girls, robed in white, with garlands around their temples, and baskets filled with flowers in their hands, stood ready to receive him as he passed beneath the arch. Behind them, at a little distance, was still another throng composed of maidens also, arrayed in white, and still farther in the back ground the aged fathers and mothers. As the stately form of Washington passed through the arch, those children and maidens burst forth into a song of welcome. The chorus was, "Strew your hero's way with flowers," and as its sweet and thrilling melody rolled heavenward, they cast their flowers in his path. The aged parents behind with glad tears streaming down their cheeks ; the daughters in front, arrayed in white ; the little children nearer still, their eyes beaming with excitement, and the associations connected with the spot, all combined to render the scene one of the most tender and touching in the whole life of Washington ; and as the clear and ringing chorus, " Strew your hero's way with flowers," rose and fell in thrilling cadences on the air, the enthusiasm broke over all bounds, and a long shout of exultation, and " Long live Washington," shook the banks of the stream. The beauti- ful ranks opened to receive the chieftain as he advanced, and looking down on the throng of sweet upturned faces, the tears gathered in his eyes, and with a quivering lip, he waved his hat and passed on. At Elizabethtown an elegant barge, manned by thirteen New York pilots, neatly dressed in white, was waiting to receive him. The shore was lined with people, and as Washington stepped into the boat, they sent up a long and deafening shout. At a given signal the gayly decorated craft pushed from the shore, and as the oars LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 437 dipped into the water there went forth a blast of trumpets, and triumphant strains of martial music floated out over the water. Boat after boat from New York met and fell in the procession, and when the open bay was reached, a whole fleet of vessels, flaunting with ribbons and gay streamers, and crowded with spectators, gathered around the barge of Washington, singing peans of victory, while shouts blending in with the pealing of bugles and strains of martial music swelled the enthusiasm beyond all bounds. The whole vast concourse swept on toward the Battery, each wharf as they passed sending up a wild welcome from its crowded head, while the thunder of artillery received him at the place of landing. As he stepped on shore, one united loud " LONG LIVE WASHINGTON" rose from the mighty multitude. Pass- ing through lines of military, he moved to the head of the military, when the whole fell in and passed up Broadway to the Park, beside which was the house selected for his resi- dence. At night the city was ablaze with illuminations and innumerable fire- works, and the streets shook to the shouts of the populace. Wholly unlike all other men throughout his whole career, FO here the passionate enthusiastic wel- come he received did not waken up one of those feelings of gratification or pride which seem inherent in our very nature. Intent only on benefiting others, thinking sadly over the disappointments he might create, he says : " The departure of the boats which attended me, and joined on this occasion, some with instrumental music on board the decorations of the ships, the roar of cannon, and the loud acclamations of the people which rent the air as I passed along the wharves, filled my mind with sensations (contemplating the reverse of this scene, which may be the case after all my labors to do good) as painful as they were pleasing." The pageantry which usually intoxicates the soul, and the adoration which naturally awakens pride, had no power over him. Think- ing only of the country he loves better than his life, his mind 438 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. passes on to the time when his best efforts may be mis- judged and his fondest hopes disappointed. Good as he was great, so good that virtue in him seemed not the result of effort, but the natural breath of his being, he seems not to know what it is to resist temptation. I do not design to go into a detailed history of Washing- ton's administrations, for that would embrace the entire range of the political history of the country for eight years, sufficient in itself to constitute a large work. His installation into office as First President of the Re- public, April 30th, was accompanied with imposing ceremo- nies. At nine o'clock in the morning all the bells in the city called the inhabitants each to his own place of worship, to invoke God's blessing on their future chief, and on the country over which he was to preside. In those days the superintending providence of the Almighty was believed in, and his pleasure or displeasure considered worth regarding by those who loved their country. At noon the troops paraded in front of Washington's house, when he, attended by the committees of Congress and Heads of Department and Foreign Ministers, entered his coach and rode alone to the Federal Hall. Chancellor Livingston administered the oath of office in presence of the people, who ratified it with long and loud acclamations of "Long live Washington, our President." After delivering his inaugural speech to the two Houses of Congress, he went on foot to St. Paul's church, where prayers were read by the bishop. At night bonfires and illuminations and transparencies kept the city in a tumult of joy, and lighted out the day, which had so auspiciously begun. Acting on the principle which had governed all his public life, Washington announced to Congress that he would receive no compensation for his services, and asked only that his necessary expenses should be paid by the State. LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 439 The different departments not yet being organized, Jay, Secretary of Foreign Affairs, and Knox, of War, un,der Congress, continued to fulfill the duties of their respective offices, while a Board of Commissioners had charge of the Treasury. From these Washington obtained full reports, which he himself went over carefully and in detail, and condensed with great labor. He at once, with his usual method, set out to master every department of government. From the first he was constantly overrun with persons calling to pay their respects to him, distracting his attention and occupying the time which he needed for public pur- poses. This embarrassed him much ; still it was a delicate matter to avoid the evil on the one hand, and yet escape the charge of imitating royalty in exclusiveness on the other. After much discussion and correspondence, it was finally agreed upon to set apart one hour on each Tuesday, between three and four, to receive visitors. In June, he was taken seriously ill, and suffered much from an affection of one of his limbs, and for a time morti- fication seemed almost certain to follow. Dr. Bard was his physician, and while the danger was imminent, never left his side. From the anxiety manifested in the countenances of those who surrounded him, and the constant assiduous attentions of the physician, Washington became convinced that his case was a very critical one. One day, therefore, being left alone with Dr. Bard, he looked him steadily in the face, and then asked him to say candidly, what he thought would be the termination of his disease. The doctor replied that he had great hopes of his recovery, still there were serious grounds of apprehension. " To-night or twenty years hence, (calmly replied Washington,) makes no difference ; I know that I am in the hands of a good Provi- dence."* He was ill six weeks, and it was a long time * Life of Dr. Samuel Bard, by Professor McVickar. 440 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. before he regained his usual strength and health. When he had recovered sufficiently to ride out by being bolstered up in his seat, it was touching to witness the sad and anxious countenances of the people as he passed ; and the murmured blessings that followed his receding carriage were worth more than thrones and diadems. From the first, there had been in the Senate a singular excitement respecting the title with which the President should be addressed, and a joint committee from both Houses, was at length appointed to report in this important matter. Their united report was, that no titles should be given. But this was too democratic for the Senate, and a hot debate followed in that body, which was stopped only by the previous question. The committee of the Senate, however, reported that it was proper to style the President " His Highness, the President of the United States of America, and Protector of their Liberties." The House of Represen- tatives took no notice of this, but addressed a communica- tion to the President simply as " President of the United States." The excitement extended to the country, and the news- papers took up the subject with great warmth, but the republican spirit at length overcame all opposition, and the subject of titles was dismissed from the public mind. In August, Washington received intelligence of the death of his mother, who had reached the advanced age of eighty- two. In reply to a letter from his sister, announcing the sad event, he said, " Awful and affecting as the death of a parent is, there is consolation in knowing Heaven has spared ours to an age which few attain, and favored her with the full enjoyment of her mental faculties, and as much bodily strength as usually falls to the lot of four- score. Under these considerations, and a hope that she is translated to a happier place, it is the duty of her relatives to yield due submission to the decrees of the Creator." LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 441 Washington carried into his life, as President, the same habits of strict economy that he practiced at home, yet he found it impossible often to come within the sum of $25,000, which had been voted by Congress as his salary, and he was compelled to resort to his private income to meet his cur- rent expenses. Only the departments of treasury, war, and foreign affairs, were formed during this session of Congress, and it adjourned in the latter part of September. Hamilton was appointed Secretary of the Treasury. Jefferson was at the head of Foreign Affairs, which office also embraced that of Secretary of State, while Knox was retained Secretary of War. Edmund Randolph was appointed Attorney Gene- ral, and John Jay placed at the head of the Supreme Court. The different appointments caused much perplexity, but the President, by adopting one principle, viz., to select men solely for their qualifications and capacity to fill the office in which they were placed, succeeded in convincing most of the wisdom of his course. When Congress adjourned, he took advantage of the ses- sion to make a tour through the Eastern States. He was absent a month visiting various localities, but he studiously avoided Rhode Island, because she had not yet come into the Union. Every step of his progress was an ovation, and he could scarcely move without having his carriage sur- rounded by enthusiastic multitudes, while congratulations poured in upon him from every side. The proofs of rising prospects and increasing wealth which appeared in the New England States gratified him exceedingly, and he returned to New York not only much improved in health, but cheered also at the great satisfaction of the people with their new government. The passing of proper laws, the payment of foreign loans and home debts, and all the machinery of a new govern- ment, by turns . occupied Congress, and necessarily deeply engaged the mind of the President. A short visit to Rhode 442 LlfE OF WASHINGTON. Island, which had at length come into the confederation, was the only relaxation he took during this session of Con- gress. At its adjournment he visited again Mount Vernon, but its quiet walls and secluded haunts could no longer dis- tract his attention from public affairs. Our relations with England were not promising, while those with Spain assumed a still more unfavorable character. These two nations, one at the north and the other at the south, stirred up the Indians to hostilities, and kept our frontiers drenched in blood. In his dealings with the Indians Washington always adopted a humane policy. He recognized all their rights, and treated them in every way as if they were civilized nations. His course would doubtless have been successful but for the intrigues of England and Spain. At length, however, forbearance became a crime, and he commenced open hostilities against them. The defeat of Harmar and afterwards of St. Glair protracted the war, so that it con- tinued through nearly the whole first term of his adminis- tration, and drew heavily upon the Treasury. There is an incident connected with the overthrow of St. Clair, which illustrates Washington's love of justice. An adjutant gene- ral, Sargeant, who was wounded in the battle, escaped and hastened immediately to the seat of government with the disastrous news. Being a man of wealth he was enabled to get transported rapidly, and hence outstripped the courier several days. Washington invited him to Mount Vernon, where he remained till St. Glair's despatches arrived ; yet during all this time never asked a question respecting St. Glair's defeat. Although much distressed and deeply anxious about the event, he was afraid he might hear a partial account, and thus be induced to decide unjustly. Sargeant said that during the whole time he was at his house no one would have known a battle had been fought but from Wash- ington's inquiry every morning respecting his wound. LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 443 At length, in 1793, Wayne was appointed commander of the forces in the north-west, and by one terrible blow pros- trated the Indians and restored peace. Congress having changed the place of sitting from New York to Philadelphia it met at the latter place in the fore part of December, 1790. The National Bank, established this session, awakened much opposition, but Washington, after mature deliberation, approved the project. With Con- gress he was deeply engaged during the winter in completing various plans of policy, and labored unceasingly to perfect the government. When Congress adjourned in the spring, he made a trip to the Southern States, going as far south as Savannah. The whole journey of eighteen hundred and eighty-seven miles, was made with the same horses and carriage. His presence everywhere was hailed with delight, and he returned more and more convinced that a great and glorious future was before his country. At the next session of Congress, the elements of those two terrible factions, Federalists and Democrats, began to develop themselves more fully, and filled Washington with the gravest fears. Hamilton and Jefferson, represented those two classes of opinions and feelings in the country, and soon assumed a hostile attitude to each other. The former was for concentrating more power in the central government, by removing it from the separate states the latter for taking more power from the federal government and bestowing it on the states. Seeing the bitterness of feeling which these different views caused between his Sec- retary of the State and of the Treasury, and fearing the animosity that it would create in the country, Washington used all his influence to bring about some reconciliation or compromise. His letters and appeals to each breathed the spirit of kindness and patriotism, but nothing could allay the fire which had been kindled, and it blazed on fiercer and 444 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. fiercer till the' overthrow of the Federalists, in the war of 1812, ended the strife. Against himself, as the leader of the Federalists, all the venom and malignity of the Demo- crats were levelled. In a letter, speaking of the political animosity which had pursued him, he says, " Until within the last year or two I did not believe that parties would or ever could go the length I have been witness to ; nor did I believe, until lately, that it was within the bounds of probability, hardly within those of possibility, that, while I was using my utmost exertions to establish a national character of our own, independent, as far as our obligations and justice would permit, of every nation of the earth, and wished by steering a steady course, to preserve this country from the horrors of a desolating war, I should be accused of being the enemy of one nation, and subject to the influence of an- other ; and to prove it, that every act of my administration would be tortured, and the grossest and most invidious mis- representations of them be made, by giving one side only of a subject, and that too in such exaggerated and indecent terms as could scarcely be applied to a Nero, a notorious defaulter, or even to a common pickpocket. But enough of this. I have already gone further in the expression of my feelings than I intended." It seems hardly possible, at this day, that men could have been found so lost to reason, truth and virtue, as to load Washington with aspersions such as he here himself declares were heaped upon him. But political malignity always becomes personal, and is just as deep and unsparing. When the term of his administration drew to a close, he hoped that he would be permitted to retire to private life and spend the remnant of his days in quietness and peace. His known reluctance to accept the first nomination, created great fear among- all parties, lest he should utterly refuse to accept a second. The hatred of faction gave way WASHINGTON AT THE DEATH BED OF YOUNG CUSTIS. LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 447 *> larm in view of the disaster that might follow his deser- tion of the helm of state. Those who afterward became his enemies urged him not to think of retiring, declaring that his commanding influence and wisdom were indispens- able in order to fix firmly and forever, that which had only settled into transient repose, and if he di 1 not remain the whole tottering fabric would fall. By all that was dear to the Union, they besought him not to expose it at last to overthrow. They knew that Washington's weak side was his patriotism, and they plied it with appeals and arguments in turn, till at length he yielded, and on the fourth of March, 1793, was again inaugurated President of the United States; For the last three years the rumblings of the coming earthquake in France, had startled Europe from her long repose, and Washington watched the progress of events with the deepest interest, not only from the principles that were involved, but because the fate of Lafayette, he knew, would be that of republicanism. At length the Bastile fell, and Lafayette, through Tom Paine, sent to him the key of that strong fortress of tyranny and secret dungeon of op- pressed men. The National Assembly also urote him a letter, closing with "May the individuals of the two nations connect themselves by a mutual affection, worthy of the friendship which unites the two men, at this day most illus- trious by their exertions for liberty, Washington and La- fayette." But the joy which the apparent regeneration of France had occasioned, gave way to alarm as the car of revolution rolled on in blood, and soon Europe was in arms to arrest its farther progress. England at length having joined the crusade for the overthrow of liberty, declared war against France. This threatened to augment most seriously the difficulties that surrounded the commencement jf Washington's second administration. He immediately submitted to the cabinet several queries respecting the 24 448 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. policy it was necessary and right for the United States to pursue. They having answered these inquiries, he by their advice issued a proclamation of strict neutrality between the two powers. Not only from the fact that France was struggling for liberty, the very principles of which had been trans- planted from this country, but also as toward an ally and friend who had just poured out her treasures and her blood in our behalf, this proclamation kindled into fury all the latent fire that had been so long partially smothered, and from that moment the secret opponents of Washington became more and more his open enemies, and a relentless war was waged against him till the close of his administra- tion. It was denounced as faithless to France and obse- quious to England, and worse than all, declared a mere party measure adopted by his advisers to secure a political end. The charge of striving to force this country into a useless war, of sympathising with wholesale slaughter of women and children, were retorted on the democrats, and that strife of factions rapidly gathered strength and in- creased in ferocity, till it shook the federal government to its foundation. While this state of feeling was dividing the country, Mr Genet, minister from the French Republic, arrived on our shores. Landing at Charleston, he was received with such enthusiasm that he believed the United States were ready to rush to arms to help their sister republic, who was only striving to carry out the principles of liberty and equality which her armies had learned in our long and almost hope- less struggle. He went so far in his extravagances as to order vessels to be fitted out as privateers in the very harbor of Charleston. These in time returned with prizes, which called forth a remonstrance from the British minister. The American government immediately forbade the fitting out of privateers, which brought forth angry and impertinent LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 449 letters from Genet to the Secretary of State. He even disregarded the declaration of our government and kept sending vessels to sea, which, in turn, caused more stringent measures to be adopted. This, of course, excited still more violently the French minister, and in the blindness of his rage, he dared to threaten Washington, declaring that he had usurped the power of Congress, and even hinted at an appeal to the people. Washington, feeling that the dignity of the country required that he should no longer tolerate this insulting conduct, directed that a request should be immediately forwarded to France, asking his recall. This had become the more necessary, from the fact that the Frenc minister had begun to organize societies over the land favorable to his views. Our relations with England were still more complicated. Morose from the loss of her fairest colonies, and determined to narrow down their limits as much as possible, she held forts on our soil, and sustained the Indians on our frontiers in their hostilities. She also impressed American seamen, and her privateers seized American goods on the high seas. To vex France, she also issued two orders, one authorizing the seizure of all -American ships laden with breadstuffs, if bound to France ; and another detaining all vessels freighted with goods or provisions, sailing from any po r t of France, or of her colonies. These orders struck down, with a single blow, neutral rights. The President, in his annual message of 1793, took strong ground against them, declaring that the United States should claim and maintain its rank among the nations of the earth, and that the only way to secure peace, was to let it be known they were always ready for war. Fox, the leader of the opposition in the British Par- liament, alluding to this message of 'Washington, drew a contrast between Washington and the ministers of Great Britain, in which he said, " How infinitely more wise must appear the spirit and principles manifested in his late ad- 450 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. dress to Congress, than the policy of modern European courts. Illustrious man ! desiring honor less from the splendor of his situation than from the dignity of his mind." He declared that the potentates of Europe sank into insig- nificance before him. " For him," said he, " it has been reserved to run the race of glory without experiencing the smallest interruption to the brilliancy of his career." Erskine, afterwards Lord Erskine, wrote to him, saying, " I have a large acquaintance among the most valuable and exalted classes of men, but you are the only human being for whom I ever felt an awful reverence." As in the field, so in the cabinet, amid internal troubles and outward difficulties, his character shone forth .with undimmed and constant brilliancy. The difficulties with the mother country, however, kept increasing, and a second war seemed inevitable. As a last experiment, he determined to send Mr. Jay as minister plenipotentiary to England, to see if an amicable adjustment might not be made, and a treaty secured. Congress, turbu- lent with contending factions, at length adjourned, and the public mind turned to watch the eifect of Jay's mission. But while much hope was entertained from his efforts, and the prospects of peace seemed to brighten, internal insur- rections menaced us with more immediate and imminent dangers The tax on distilled _ spirits, which had been levied b}*- Congress, a few years before, caused at this time great com- motion. This, instead of subsiding with time, had kept on increasing, and now had reached a point threatening civil war. The officers were violently treated in the discharge of their duties, and bands of armed men set at defiance the authority of the general government. Painful as the alter- native was, there was no choice left but to meet force with force. Preparatory to more serious measures, Washington issued a proclamation, commanding the insurgents to dis- LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 451 perse before the first of September, or he would call out the militia to enforce the laws. The insurgents, numbering it was supposed some sixteen thousand men, were congregated chiefly in the western part of Pennsylvania, but there were many also in New Jersey, Maryland, and Virginia. Wash- ington was, at length, compelled to call out the militia. Accompanied by the Secretary of War, he visited the two places of rendezvous of his troops (Cumberland and Bed- ford), and then ordered them to march across the Allcgha- nies, and disperse, at all hazards, the insurgents. This im- posing force overawed all opposition, and peace was restored without the shedding of blood. The Constitution requiring all treaties to be ratified by the Senate, Washington issued a proclamation requiring that body to assemble in June. I shall not here discuss that treaty. That it was such an one in its conditions as this country would at present make no one believes. Washington did not wholly approve of it. He considered it incomplete and unsatisfactory, but the choice lay between this treaty and war. As the national honor had not been sacrificed, he thought this partial settlement of the difficul- ties between the two countries was better than an open rupture. The Senate occupied two weeks in discussing this treaty and finally only by a bare constitutional majority, advised its ratification. Nor could this vote be obtained except by excluding one article in it which prohibited American vessels from transporting molasses, sugar, coffee, cocoa and cotton either from the United States or West India Islands to any other part of the world. Ships not exceeding seventy tons might carry the products of the States to the islands no- thing more. This of course the southern members would not for a moment listen to. The conduct of the Senate em- barrassed Washington much. He was not certain that this could be called a ratification till the excluded article was 452 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. re-subinitted to the English government. If it was not, his signature to the treaty would be clearly improper. In the meantime a senator gave a copy of the treaty to the editor of a newspaper, and it was published. Thus cast before the public, unaccompanied by any of the diplomatic corre- spondence, explanations, &c., it kindled into sudden and fierce conflagration the angry feeling that had been partially slumbering. It was everywhere received with clamors, with taunts and fierce denunciations. Public meetings were called, and national pride and honor so vehemently appealed to, that a feeling was raised, which for a time threatened to sweep away the administration. Bold and threatening resolutions were sent to the President from Boston. To settle the question at once, and allay the disorders, and pre- vent public demonstrations against the executive, Washing- ton called together his cabinet, and submitted to it the question of ratification. All but the Secretary of State advised it, and on the 18th of August he signed the treaty with the condition annexed, and sent it accompanied by a remonstrance to the British government against the obnoxious article, which had the desired effect, and it was excluded. The day after Randolph, Secretary of State, resigned his office. A letter from M. Fauchet, the French minister, deeply implicating his character, had been intercepted at sea and sent to the British cabinet, and by them forwarded to Mr. Hammon, British minister at Philadelphia. The latter gentleman handed it to the Secretary of the Treasury, who translated it. Washington was immediately sent for at Mount Vernon, and as soon as he arrived the letter was shown him. In it were plain intimations that Mr. Ran- dolph was working for the interests of the French nation, and could be bought over still further, in short was false to his position, and the trust reposed in him. Washington, in the presence of his cabinet, quietly handed Mr. Randolph LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 453 this letter and asked for an explanation. The latter was indignant that the matter had not been submitted to him privately before it was brought before the cabinet, and the same day handed in his resignation. In a note to the Presi- dent, he requested that this letter, so deeply implicating his character, should be kept secret until he should have time to secure a thorough and full investigation, which would esta- blish his innocence. His request was complied with, yet he seemed in no hurry to have the investigation take place, and never did exculpate himself wholly from blame. He delayed, hesitated, pretended papers were withheld, &c., when he had free access to all of Washington's papers, both public and private, with full permission to use them in his own defense. Mr. Pickering, from the War Department, took his place, and James M. Henry of Baltimore, became Secretary of War. When Congress assembled (March 29th), it refused to enact the laws necessary to carry the treaty into effect, arid by a large majority passed a resolution requesting the Pre- sident to lay before them his instructions to Mr. Jay, with all the documents bearing on the negotiations. To refuse would be regarded a tacit confession of improper conduct on his part, by his enemies, while to accede would be yield- ing the prerogatives belonging to his office, and allowing encroachments which the constitution had guarded against. That instrument placed the treaty-making power in the President and Senate. Though much troubled at the dilemma in which he was placed, Washington refused to comply with the request, and gave as his reasons the uncon- stitutionality of it, and the dangerous and mischievous ten- dency of adopting such a precedent. The House was con- founded with this refusal, and for days after the hall rung with angry denunciations, which were combated with solid reason and calm judgment. The members, however, at last yielded. Still there was much bitter feeling engendered 454 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. throughout the country, and one would have thought from the tone and language of many of the papers, that Wash- ington, instead of being the defender and liberator of his country, was its greatest foe and oppressor. But as he had stood amid a mutinous army, under the suspicious distrust and neglect of Congress, and in the night of disaster and gloom of the revolution, so now he stood calm and unmoved amid the assaults of political foes, and under the false accu- sations of unscrupulous detractors. In writing to Knox, he says, in speaking of his enemies, " The consolation, however, which results from conscious rectitude, deprives their sting of its poison ;" and again, " Next to a conscientious discharge of my public duties, to carry along with me the approbation of my constituents, would be the highest gratification my mind is susceptible of; but the latter being secondary, I cannot make the for- mer yield to it, unless some criterion more infallible than partial (if they are not party) meetings can be discovered, as the touchstone of public sentiment. If any power on earth could, or the Great Power above would, erect the standard of infallibility in political opinions, there is no being that inhabits this terrestrial globe, that would resort to it with more eagerness than myself, so long as I remain a servant of the public. But as I have found no better guides hitherto than upright intentions and close investiga- tion, I shall adhere to those maxims, while I keep the watch ; leaving to those who will come after me, to explore new ways, if they like or think them better." In looking back from this distant point to the party feuds and political distractions of those times, how lofty, how infinitely elevated above all his traducers and enemies does the character of Washington appear. Living in an atmosphere of truth and sincerity, seeking no selfish ends, but with an eye single to his country's good, he by the mere majesty of virtue alone, triumphs over all opposition, and finds his LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 455 way to the innermost heart of the people. Neither partizan leaders nor loud- mouthed demagogues nor eu^- ning detractors could shake the faith of the nation in him their more than father. That faith of the masses in his truth and integrity, rising over all the efforts of political leaders, is the highest eulogium on their own virtue, and shows that they were worthy of the freedom they had achieved. In the meantime, Randolph had prepared his vindication, as he termed it. The pamphlet was characterized by great bitterness of feeling, and unjust aspersions of Washington. Ingersoll, of Philadelphia, happened into the apartment of the latter just after he had received it, and witnessed one of those sudden explosions of wrath which terrified the be- holder. He found, he said, Mrs. Washington, and other ladies, cowering in a corner like frightened doves over which an eagle is hovering, and gazing with silent terror on the wrathful visage of Washington, fairly blazing with passion, while a torrent of invective poured from his lips. The duplicity, falsehood, and ingratitude displayed in this "vindication," for a moment unmanned him, and he became the lion he sometimes was on the battle field. The private life of Washington, at this time, was charac- terized by the great formality which distinguished that period. He rarely, if ever, walked out alone, but, dressed in black, with a secretary on each side, and all three wear- ing cocked hats, would stride majestically and silently along, apparently no more conscious of the presence of those attend- ing him, than of his own shadow. He often took drives in a handsome cream-colored coach, with four horses, into the country ; but on Sunday, in going to church, he used but two horses. The livery of his servants was white, trimmed with gay colors, and when, with his coach and six, he drove to the Senate, his appointments bore but faint resemblance to those of a republican President of the present day. The 456 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. following description, by Richard Hush, of his appearance on great state occasions, is very graphic : " Washington was to open the session of Congress by going in person, as was his custom, to deliver a speech to both houses, assembled in the chamber of the House of Representatives. The crowd was immense. It filled the whole area in Chestnut street before the State House, extended along the line of Chestnut street above Sixth street, and spread north and south some distance along the latter. A way kept open for carriages in the middle of the street, was the only space not closely packed with people. I had a stand on the steps of one of the houses in Chestnut street, which, raising me above the mass of human heads, enabled me to see to advantage. After waiting long hours as it seemed to a boy's impatience, the carriage of the Pre- sident at length slowly drove up, drawn by four beautiful bay horses. It was white, with medallion ornaments on the panels, and the livery of the servants, as well as I remem- ber, was white, turned up with red, at any rate a glowing livery the entire display of equipage at that era, in our country generally, and in Philadelphia in particular, while the seat of government, being more rich and varied than now, though fewer in number. Washington got out of his carriage, and, slowly crossing the pavement, ascended the steps of the edifice, upon the upper platform of which he paused, and, turning half round, looked in the direction of a carriage which had followed the lead of his own. Thus he stood for a minute, distinctly seen by every body. He stood in all his civic dignity and moral grandeur erect, serene, majestic. His costume was a full suit of black vel- vet, his hair, itself blanched by time, powdered to snowy whiteness, a dress sword by his side, and his hat held in his hand. Thus he stood in silence, and what moments those were ! Throughout the dense crowd profound stillness reigned. Not a word was heard, not a breath. Palpitations WASHINGTON TAKING LEAVE OP HIS MOTHER. LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 459 took the place of sounds. It was a feeling infinitely beyond that which vents itself in shouts. Every heart was full In vain "would any tongue have spoken. " All were gazing, in mute, unutterable admiration Every eye was riveted on that form the greatest, purest, most exalted of mortals. It might have seemed as if he stood in that position to gratify the assembled thousands with a full view of the father of his country. Not so. He had paused for his secretary, then, I believe, Mr. Dandridge or Colonel Lear, who got out of the other carriage, a chariot, decorated like his own. The secretary, ascending the steps, handed him a paper probably a copy of the speech he was to deliver when both entered the building. Then it was, and not till then, that the crowd sent up huzzas, loud, long, earnest, enthusiastic."* To the embarrassments which surrounded him resulting from Jay's treaty, and his own refusal to send to Congres? the papers relating to it, was added the deepest solicitude for his friend the Marquis de Lafayette. This nobleman was at first the idol of the French populace, but in the opposing tides of revolution he had been stranded, and was now languishing in an Austrian prison. We had at that time no representative in Austria or Prussia, and Washing- ton could not therefore appeal directly to those governments, still through our ministers at other foreign courts, he inter- ceded unceasingly for his deliverance. He sent also to the British cabinet requesting its powerful mediation, but in vain. As a last resort he wrote direct to the Emperor of Germany, asking as a boon, a great personal favor, that Lafayette might be permitted to come to America, promis- ing to regard sacredly any instructions under which he might embark. At length he had the pleasure of hearing that Lafayette had been delivered over to the American * From the Republican Court, by Rufus Griswold. 460 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. consul at Hamburg, and of communicating the glad intelli- gence to young George Washington Lafayette, who had been for two years a resident in his house. Harassed by the difficulties with France and England, that seemed farther than ever from permanent settlement well convinced in his own mind that unless the policy and spirit of the British government changed, another war with that power was in- evitable, he saw with relief his second term of office draw- ing to a close. Turning a deaf ear to all proposals for reelection for a third term, he devoted much of his thoughts to a Farewell Address to his countrymen. Among the noble legacies which he left to his country, none is more worthy of being treasured in the heart of the people than this address. Through all its wise counsels, noble maxims, and elevated thought, the spirit of undying patriotism breathes like the undertone of an organ, through some grand and soul-subduing anthem. His bitterest foes forgot for awhile the animosity they had entertained against him, and the hardest heart was touched by this last proof of de- votion to his country. That address will never grow old. It cannot be read at this day without awakening patriotism in the dullest heart, and causing it to sigh over the ambition and selfishness of our modern rulers. John Adams was elected to fill his place, and he waited to witness his inauguration. Afterward a grand parting entertainment was given to Washington. Sparks relates the following anecdote as coming from Bishop White : "On the day before President Washington retired from office, a large company dined with him. Among them were the foreign ministers and their ladies, Mr. and Mrs. Adams, Mr. Jefferson and other distinguished persons of both sexes. During the day much hilarity prevailed, but on the removal of the cloth, it was put an end to by the President, cer- tainly without design. Having filled his glass, he addressed the company, with a smile, as nearly as can be recollected LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 461 in the following words : * Ladies and gentlemen, this is the last time I shall drink your health as a public man : I do it with sincerity, wishing you all possible happiness.' There was an end of all pleasantry. He who gives this relation, accidentally directed his eye to the lady of the British minister, Mrs. Liston, and tears were running down her cheeks." A simple citizen once more, he turned his weary footsteps toward the quiet shades of Mount Vernon. But the people knew no difference, he was still their father, and military escorts, and crowds of men and women, blocked his way, and he was borne by the huzzns and blessings of the people almost to the gates of his dwelling. It is difficult, at this remote period, to review in detail his administration, for it is impossible to conceive the difficul- ties and embarrassments that surround an entirely new government, whose foundation stones and whole structure were so widely different from all others. Things which now appear plain as noonday, had to be worked laboriously up to the light, and the first rude form reduced from the chaotic elements before the details could be furnished. Jt is enough, however, to convince us of the wisdom and saga- city of his administration, that a glorious future rested on it as a base. No other man could have put us even on firm footing, much less consolidated us into a sound government, strong at home and respected abroad. Much has been said of the hostile feeling entertained toward Washington by Jefferson, and many charges and criminations j;rew out of this animosity. These differences, however, were chiefly political the two stood at the head of the great factions, Federalists and Democrats, and of course differed toto ccdo in their views of government. Political animosity, it is well known, is the most unsparing of all hatreds, and yet it could not weaken the personal regard in which Jefferson held Washington. Although, in the famous 462 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. letter to Maggie, it is said he included Washington among those whom he affirmed were forming the government on aristocratic and monarchical principles, yet he declared that "his integrity was most pure, his justice the most inflexible" he had ever known. " He was indeed," said he, " in every sense of the word, a wise, a good, and a great man." Still he let his political views warp too much his conduct, and Wash- ington might justly feel, that the former had repaid kind- ness with ingratitude, and confidence with suspicion. One who had seen Washington at the capitol, invested with power and the head of a great people, and afterward watched him an industrious farmer, repairing his barns and attending to his crops and cattle, would have obtained a vivid conception of the genius of our institutions and the simple grandeur of him who had founded them. The year that followed his retirement from office was a quiet routine of daily duties, and he thus makes one day describe the whole. He rose with the sun and breakfasted early. His morning meal being accomplished, he says, in a letter to a friend, " I mount my horse and ride round my farms, which employs me until it is time to dress for din- ner, at which I rarely miss to see strange faces, come, as they say, out of respect for me. And how different is this from having a few social friends at a cheerful board. The usual time for sitting at table, a walk and tea, bring me within the dawn of candle-light, previous to which, if not prevented by company, I resolve that as soon as the glim- mering taper supplies the place of the great luminary, I will retire to my writing-table and acknowledge the letters I have received. Having given you the history of a day, it will serve for a year." This, however, is a very incom- plete account. The numberless deeds of charity the con- stant acts of kindness the devotion to* the interests of others, especially to those of his country, which revealed the soul and heart, are not recorded. The knowledge of LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 463 them scarcely lived in his own heart, for with him to do good, was his natural life, so that acts of virtue were no more noted by him than his pulsations. But while en- grossed in these quiet scenes, the driftings of that terrible storm which was rocking Europe to its foundations, began to be felt on these shores, and it seemed impossible that this country should escape being drawn into its vortex. The intolerant French Directory insulted our Minister, Mr. Pinckney; French cruisers plundered our commerce, and indignities were heaped upon us that rendered farther indif- ference impossible, if the country hoped to secure the respect of nations. Preparations for war were therefore set on foot, and all eyes were turned once more to the nation's great leader to take again his place at the head of the army. The President nominated him Commander-in- Chief, and the Senate confirmed the nomination. Just having struggled through a long life of toil and suffering, and now treacling the verge of the grave, a reentrance to that life and struggle was painful in the extreme, yet to the last, thinking only of his country's welfare, he declared he would not entrench himself " under the cover of age and retirement, if his services should be required in repelling the enemy." He therefore accepted the appointment and repaired to Philadelphia, and was soon again merged in public affairs. While here a little incident occurred, which exhibits in a striking light one feature of Washington's character. Mr. Logan had arrived as a sort of secret envoy from France, sent here, it was supposed, at the instigation of Mr. Jeffer- son. Our properly appointed plenipotentiary had gone over to adjust, if possible, the differences of the two countries, and this private underhand policy disgusted Washington. The following account of the interview between him and Mr. Logan, as furnished by his own memoranda of the visit, 464 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. is interesting, from the strong light in which it displays the characteristics of the two men. " Tuesday, November 17th, 1778, Mr. Lear, our secretary, being from our lodging on business, one of my servants came into the room where I was writing, and informed me that a gentleman in the parlor below desired to see me no name was sent up. In a few minutes I went down, and found the Rev. Dr. Blackwell and Dr. Logan there. I advanced toward and gave my hand to the former ; the latter did the same toward me. I was backward in giving mine. He possibly supposing from hence, that I did not recollect him, said his name was Logan. Finally, in a very cool manner, and with an air of marked indifference, I gave him my hand, and asked Dr. Blackwell to be seated, the other took a seat at the same time. I addressed all my conversation to Dr. Black- well ; the other all his to me, to which I only gave negative or affirmative answers, as laconically as I could, except ask- ing how Mrs. Logan did. He seemed disposed to be very polite, and while Dr. Blackwell and myself were conversing on the late calamitous fever, offered me an asylumn at his house if it should return, or I thought myself in any dan- ger in the city, and two or three rooms by way of accommo- dation. I thanked him, slightly observing there would be no call for it." Then follows some account of a conversation on political matters, in which Washington, without depart- ing from his freezing politeness, gave some home thrusts, all of which however failed to disconcert the imperturbable Logan. The whole interview evidently made a decided impression on Washington, and chiefly, one would infer, from being perhaps the only instance in his life in which his manner, usually so impressive, or if he chose, crushing, failed to disconcert the object toward which it was directed. This Logan was evidently an extraordinary man, in his way making up in impudence what he might lack in character. LIFE OP WASHINGTON. 465 The minute details, as given by Washington, show that the persevering politeness with which the fellow met all his studied coldness of manner, somewhat annoyed him. The climax of impudence, however, was reached when he replied to this lofty hauteur with the kind and charitable invitation of protection and an asylum in his house. One of these little bursts of light which sometimes falls on and enlivens a whole picture, is here thrown on Washington's character, when, after saying, he answered him coolly and laconically as he could, he adds, " except asking how Mrs. Logan did." Here the true innate chivalry of the man leaks out. The organization of the army was a difficult matter and went on slowly, yet the energy and skill he exhibited in fitting it for active operations, showed that although verg- ing on his threescore and ten, " his eye was not dim, nor his natural force abated." . In the meantime, however, Bonaparte had vaulted to power, and our plenipotentiaries at the French capital found little difficulty with him in coming to terms of accommoda- tion. But Washington never lived to see this great object of his heart accomplished. On the 12th of December, he rode out to visit his farms as usual. But the day was cold and rainy, and after several hours of exposure, he returned wet and chilled. The next morning the ground was covered with snow, and he remained at home. Toward evening he complained of a sore throat, and his voice grew hoarse. He was aware he had taken cold, but thought little of it, and spent the evening reading the newspapers, and in social conversation with his family. As he was retiring his pri- vate secretary, Mr. Lear, advised him to take something for his cold. He replied, " You know I never take anything for colds ; let it go as it came." But in the night he awoke with a chill, while the inflammation in his throat had 25 466 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. greatly increased and continued rapidly to grow worse, so that by morning his breathing was labored, and his voice became so choked, that he could with difficulty articulate. He sent for one of his overseers to bleed him, and then de- spatched a messenger to Alexandria, nine miles off, for his old friend, Dr. Craik. The disease, however, made such rapid progress, that the family became alarmed, and sent for Dr. Brown, who resided near. But the remedies of these phy- sicians, together with the aid of Dr. Dick, who arrived later in the day, were powerless against the disease, which seemed from the first to have taken complete mastery of its victim. He was in the full vigor of life, and this sudden arresting of nature in its course, made the last struggles doubly violent. He lay and panted for breath, feeling, as the hours wore slowly away, that each one carried him nearer to the point of suffocation. But not a murmur escaped him. Calm and resigned, he bore his sufferings with that serene composure which had characterized him in all the trials of life. At half past four in the morning he sent for Mrs. Washington, nnd requested her to bring two wills from his desk. She did so. He then bade her burn one and keep the other. At eight he got up and dressed and sat by the fire, but was compelled immediately to lie down again. At noon he made another attempt, but could not rise. As evening ap- proached, he turned to Dr. Craik, and whispered, " / die hard, but I am not afraid to die. I believed from my first attack that I should not survive it. My breath cannot last long." The efforts to relieve him aggravated very much his sufferings, while they were powerless to arrest the disease. Feeling that they were wholly useless, he in a feeble voice thanked the physicians for their kindness, but requested them to desist and let him die quietly. Nothing remained to be done, therefore, but to sit and watch the steady but. rapid ebbings of life. At ten he whispered in a LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 467 low, husky, scarcely articulate voice, " I am going have me decently buried, and do not let my body be put in the vault in less than three days after I am dead. Do you un- derstand me? Well." It was fearful to see with what ruthless power disease crushed that strong nature down. But with perfect composure he withdrew his hand from that of his secretary and placed it on his own pulse, as if to count its last strokes. In a few moments his face changed, his hand slipped from his wrist, and he ceased to breathe. Mrs. Washington, who was sitting on the foot of the bed, turned to the doctor and asked, " Is he gone ?" "Yes," was the reply. " 'Tis well all is over. I shall soon follow him ; I have no more trials to pass through." His breath grew shorter and feebler every moment, till a little after ten, when he ceased to breathe. As they looked on the lifeless form, it seemed scarcely possible that one, strong and healthy the day before, had really passed away, and death seemed doubly terrible, when with one quick blow it could carry so much to the grave. He went out with the cen- tury that gave him to the world ; and as his life had gilded its progress, so his death darkened its close, and hung weeds of mourning round the one that was dawning. The account of his sickness and death were received at the same time in almost every part of the Union, and the nation was paralyzed. Solemn ceremonies attended the funeral, and a long procession accompanied the body to the tomb. Minute guns were fired as it sadly wound its way- through the wintry grove, and his old war horse, saddled and bridled, walked riderless beside the coffin. The noble steed he would never mount again, and to that cold cheek the sullen guns would never send the blood, as of yore. His work was finished his battles were over and the more than Emperor laid in the peaceful sepulchre. As the sad news slowly traveled over the land, a cry of bitter an- guish followed it, for sudden darkness had fallen on the 468 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. nation, a calamity overtaken it, for which there seemed no remedy and no solace. The people were his children and they mourned him as orphans. Even the young Republic of France, then struggling for life, put on crape, and for ten days all the flags and standards wore mourning, as though some great national loss had been sustained. The young Napoleon, flushed with victory, issued the following order of the day to his army : " Washington is dead. This great man fought against tyranny ; he established the liberty of his country. His memory will always be dear to the French people, as it will be to all freemen of the two worlds ; and especially to French soldiers, who, like him and the Ameri- oan soldiers, have combated for liberty and equality." On the same day the trophies brought from Egypt were dis- played in the Champ de Mars. After the splendid pageant was over, Bonaparte, with all the civil and military autho- rities of Paris, and accompanied by the most illustrious generals of his army, repaired to the Temple of Mars, now the Hotel des Invalids, to hear a funeral eulogium on Wash- ington, by M. de Fontaine. When the news of his death was received on board the vessel of Lord Bridport, then commanding the British fleet, composed of nearly sixty ships of the line, lying at Torbay, he lowered his flag half- mast in token of mourning. Every ship followed his ex- ample.* Nothing can illustrate the grandeur and elevation of Washington's character more, than these tokens of respect from nations with whom we were on the verge of hostilities. The history of the race furnishes no such instance. Over the hatred and prejudices engendered by war over faction, and falsehood, and detraction that character rises so pure and exalted, that the worst passions of man, his deepest settled prejudices, shrink from assailing it ; nay, humbled and rebuked, reluctantly do it reverence. Vide Sparks' Life of Washington. WASHINGTON AS A FARMER. LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 471 CHARACTER OF WASHINGTON. No one, in tracing the history of our struggle, can deny that Providence watched over our interests, and gave us the only man who could have conducted the car of the revolu- tion to the goal it finally reached. That revolution, from its incipient movements to its final close, was the most remarkable that ever occurred in human history. The principle of personal freedom had its birth in the teachings of Christ. From that time on, through all the changes of religious and political life, man struggled to make this principle practical. But at the first moment of success he was frightened back by the pathless, untrodden, and bound- less field that stretched out before him. On this conti- nent it began in asserting that taxation and representation should go together. But passing from this narrow basis to freer and broader grounds, it at length made a clean sweep of kings and titles and privileges of every class, and a com- mon farmer presided over the destinies of a republic that acknowledged no law but the will of the people. From the time Washington entered on his duties as commander- in-chief, to the close of the war, he moves before us like some grand embodiment of virtue and power. To quote the language used by myself on another occasion whether bowed in fasting and prayer before God in behalf of his country, or taking the fate of the American army on his brave heart whether retreating before the overwhelming numbers of the enemy, or pouring his furious squadrons to the charge whether lost in anxious thought, as his eye seeks in vain for some ray amid the gloomy prospect that surrounds him, or struggling amid the broken ice of the angry Delaware, in the midst of the wintry storm whether galloping into the deadly volleys of the enemy in the strong effort to restore the fight, or wearing the wreath of victory which a grateful nation placed with mingled tears and accla- 472 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. mations on his brow, he is the same self-collected, noble- minded and resolute man. Perhaps there never was a public character so little understood in the various qualities that go to make it up as that of Washington. He is called the father of his country, and that phrase is supposed to embrace the entire man. We contemplate the perfected, finished character, nevei thinking of the formation state. We look at the fruit alone, without asking what kind of blossom produced it. Notwithstanding men's intimacy with human character, they will insist that an extraordinary one, whether good or bad, must be an exception to general rules from the outset a monstrosity either in vice or virtue. But a great and good man is as much the result of growth as a tree. It passes through different stages, indeed through errors, ac- quires virtue by self-control, and wisdom by experience, and so matures gradually. There are certain moral qualities which adhere to one through life, and do not change amid all the vicissitudes to which he is exposed. An utterly selfish boy, is usually a selfish man ; and a child of generous and noble impulses, no matter to what depravity he may in other respects descend, generally retains those characteristics to the last. So Wash- ington had as high a sense of honor when a boy as when a man ; was just as elevated and unselfish in his feelings at sixteen, as at sixty ; but in all other respects he was totally different. In later years, repose and calm dignity were his great characteristics in youth, ardor, enthusiasm, and love of adventure. In the former period of his life, peace was his desire and delight, while in earlier days, he loved the excitement of war and the scope it gave to his untried energies. In youth, the clangor of battle was music to bis ears, but in riper age there was no sound so sweet to him as the song of the husbandman. Washington might have been just as good, but never so LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 473 great a man, had he possessed the same mildness and quiet- ness of character in his childhood that marked his later manhood. A certain amount of combativeness destruc- tiveness, some may term it is absolutely necessary to give a man energy, self-determination, and power. Every good and great man, from Moses to Paul, and Paul to Luther, has possessed it much more, every wicked, ambitious spirit which has succeeded in changing the world. A warm and fiery heart is indispensable to great resolution and force. This Washington possessed. Cool and correct in judgment, yet quick in his impulses ; methodical and clear in all his business arrangements, yet bold and fearless in danger, he possessed the basis of a strong and elevated character. At times during his career, he was exceedingly impetuous, and on a few occasions his passions burst through all control. His wholer appearance then became terrible, and the be- holder shrunk appalled from his presence. But these vol- canic exhibitions were of rarest occurrence, and served only to indicate the fire that was slumbering below. Without them we should never have known how marvelous was his self-control. He that ruleth his spirit, and not he that ha* no spirit to rule, is the truly great man. It is one of the astonishing features of his life, that amid the perfect chaos of feeling into which he was thrown amid the distracted counsels, and still more distracted affairs that surrounded him, he kept the perfect equilibrium of his own mind. The contagion of fear and doubt could not touch him. In this respect he did not seem susceptible to the common in- fluences which affect men. His soul, poised on its own centre, reposed calmly there amid all the tumult and turbu- lence that shook the land. The ingratitude and folly of those who should have been his friends, the insults of his foes, and the frowns of fortune, could not provoke him into rash acts or delude him into error. His constancy and firmness were equal to his self-control. 474 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. The changeless aspect and steadfast heart he maintained during those seven years of trouble and gloom, which make up the history of the revolution, will be a wonder to the end of time. Cast down by no reverses, elated by no suc- cesses, he could neither be driven into despondency, nor carried away by extravagant hopes. But doubtless the trials which tested his firmness most, were those which we are least able to appreciate. Those outward public calami- ties which all can see, and in which we know we have the sympathies of the good, can be more easily borne than in- gratitude, injustice, suspicion and slander, from those we are striving to benefit. Amid disorganized, disbanding armies amid cabals formed against him falsehoods circu- lated about him, jealousies of Congress amid open accusa- tions and implied doubts of his virtue and capacity, he moved calmly yet resolutely forward in the path of duty. This fortitude under calamities, firm courage in the midst of reverses, and unshaken constancy in every trial to which human nature is subjected, prove him to have possessed a soul of amazing strength, and a faith in the right never surpassed. Another striking trait in Washington's character, was the sway he exercised over other men. No one approached him without feeling this magical influence. A vast and comprehensive mind, which seems both to understand and embrace those about it, must, of necessity, exert great con- trol. Besides, there was that evidence of slumbering power, of transcendent elevation of character, of resistless will, of fearlessness and strength, in his very presence, that made every spirit bend before him. As a military man, Washington stands in the first rank of great commanders. He possessed every quality that goes to the formation of one. Courage was never more completely impersonified than in him. The bravest, said Napoleon, had his moment de peur moment of fear. But LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 475 one cannot point to the spot in Washington's career, where his firmness and coolness for an instant forsook him. To this was added that high chivalric feeling prompting a man in perilous crises to deeds of personal heroism. When the hour demanding them arrived, the most perilous and des- perate feats of valor were performed by him, that are found recorded in the history of war. Another very important quality the power in a com- mander to win the love and confidence of his troops, no one possessed in a more remarkable degree than he. Such devotion and love, amid starvation and want and neglect, were never before witnessed. Washington, at Valley Forge, holding the troops to him by the power of love alone, attracts the wonder and admiration of the world. Caution and promptness combined in a leader, make him u strong adversary in the field. To be tempted into no rashness, yet show no hesitation or delay to commit no error himself, yet be prompt as a thunderbolt in taking ad- vantage of one committed by another are requisites rarely found, and yet possessed by Washington in a remarkable degree. A moral firmnest, which neither defeat nor difficulties, nor the most protracted a^d exhausting labor can discourage or force into cessation of effort, is rarely possesssed by any leader, yet this never for a moment forsook Washington. In moral elevation, no warrior of ancient or modern times approaches him. Given to no excess himself, he sternly rebuked it in others. The principles of religion were deeply engrafted in his heart ; and as there was no stain on his blade, he could go from the fierce fought field to the sacramental table. That brow, which would have awed a Roman Senate in its proudest days, bent in the dust before his Maker. A Brutus in justice, he did not allow personal friendship to sway his decision, or influence him in the be- stowment of his favors. Sincere in all his declarations, his 476 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. word was never doubted, and his promise never broken. Intrusted finally with almost supreme power, he never abused it, and laid it down at last more cheerfully than he had taken it up. Bonaparte, vaulting to supreme command, seized it with avidity, and wielded it without restraint. The Directory obstructing his plans, he broke it up with the bayonet. Cromwell did the same with the Rump Parlia- ment, and installed himself Protector of England, and even hesitated long about the title of king. Washington, fettered more than both, submitted to defeat and disappointment, without using a disrespectful word to the congress that abused him, and rejected the offered crown with a sternness and indignation that forever crushed the hopes of those who presented it. Calm and strong in council, untiring in effort, wise in policy, terrible as a storm in battle, and incorrup- tible in virtue, he rises in moral grandeur so far above the Alexanders, and Caesars, and Napoleons of the world, that even comparison seems injustice. But the crowning glory of his character was his patriotism. This was so pure, so unmixed with any selfishness, that the breath of suspicion never sullied it, and no ingratitude or wrong could for a moment weaken its force. It was like the love of a father for his son, that neither injuries nor neglect can shake. Exposing himself to present suspicion rather than peril his country weakening and endangering his own army to aid his lieutenants rejoicing in the victories and renown of others more than in his own, so that the land he loved better than his life, might be saved, he stands before us in all the harmonious proportions that make a complete man. It has often troubled good men that Washington made no mention of religion in his last moments. But a man's life, not his dying speeches, must be the criterion by which we judge him. One who has studied Washington's character welt, would be more surprised to hear him express greater religious feeling on his death-bed than in ordinary life, than LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 477 to hear him express less. To such a man as he, and one who had for his whole life faced death in every form, that last solemn hour could give no new revelations, awaken no new emotions. For years it had made no difference to him, he said, at what hour he was taken away. He had placed himself in the hands of God, and given the time of his de- parture no further thought. Besides, Washington never expressed to any one those emotions and thoughts which concerned himself alone. No man kept a more full and complete diary, and yet throughout, there never leaks out by any accident, any of those soul utterances which it seems impossible, under all circumstances, to suppress. His inward life he never revealed, and to expect that he would make that portion of it into which religion entered an ex- ception, is evidently unreasonable. His views and belief he never concealed they were all emphatically religious ; but his EXPERIENCE was his own, and it was known to no one but God. WASHINGTON'S FAREWELL ADDRESS. FRIENDS AND FELLOW-CITIZENS The period for the new election of a citizen, to administer the executive government of the United States, being not far distant, and the time actually arrived when your thoughts must be employed in designating the person who is to be clothed with that important trust, it appears to me proper, especially as it may conduce to a more distinct expression of the public voice, that I should now apprise you of the resolution I have formed, to decline being considered among the number of those out of whom a choice is to be made. I beg you, at the same time, to do me the justice to be assured, that this res- olution has not been taken without a strict regard to all the considerations appertaining to the relations which bind a dutiful citizen to his country ; and that, in withdrawing the tender of service which silence in my situation might imply, I am influenced by no diminution of zeal for your future in- terest no deficiency of grateful respect for your past kindness ; but am sup- ported by a full conviction that the step is compatible with both. The acceptance of, and continuance hitherto in, the office to which your suffrages have twice called me, have been a uniform sacrifice of inclination to the opinion of duty and to a deference for what appeared to be your desire. I constantly hoped that it would have been much earlier in my power, consistently with motives which I was not at liberty to disregard, to return to that retirement from which I have been reluctantly drawn. The strength of my inclination to do this, previous to the last election, had even led to the preparation of an address to declare it to you ; but mature reflec- tion on the then perplexed and critical posture of our affairs with foreign nations, and the unanimous advice of persons entitled to my confidence, im- pelled me to abandon the idea. I rejoice that the state of your concerns, external as well as internal, no longer renders the pursuit of inclination incompatible with the sentiment of duty or propriety ; and am persuaded, whatever partiality may be retained for my services, that in the present circumstances of our country, you will not disapprove my determination to retire. The impressions with which I first undertook the arduous task, were ex- plained on the proper occasion. In the discharge of this trust, I will only say, that I have, with good intentions, contributed toward the organization and administration of the government, the best exertions of which a very fallible judgment was capable. Not unconscious, in the outset, of the inferi- WASHINGTON'S FAREWELL ADDRESS. 479 ority of my qualifications, experience in my own eyes, perhaps still more in the eyes of others, has strengthened the motives to diffidence of myself; and, every day, the increasing weight of years admonishes me more and more that the shade of retirement is as necessary to me as it will be wel- come. Satisfied that if any circumstances have given peculiar value to my services, they were temporary, I have the consolation to believe, that while choice and prudence invite me to quit the political scene, patriotism does not forbid it. In looking forward to the moment which is intended to terminate the career of my public life, my feelings do not permit me to suspend the deep acknowledgment of that debt of gratitude which I owe to my beloved country, for the many honors it has conferred upon me ; still more for the steadfast confidence with which it has supported me ; and for the opportuni- ties I have thence enjoyed of manifesting my inviolable attachment, by ser- vices faithful and persevering, though in usefulness unequal to my zeal. If benefits have resulted to our country from these services, let it always be re- membered to your praise and as an instructive example in our annals, that under circumstances in which the passions, agitated in every direction, were liable to mislead, amid appearances sometimes dubious vicissitudes of fortune often discouraging in situations in which not unfrequently want of success Las countenanced the spiiit of criticism the constancy of your sup- port was the essential prop of the efforts, and the guaranty of the plans by which they were effected. Profoundly penetrated with this idea, I shall carry it with me to my grave, as a strong incitement to unceasing vows that Heaven may continue to you the choicest tokens of its benevolence that your union and brotherly affection may be perpetual that the free Constitution, which is the work of your hands, may be sacredly maintained that its administration in every department may be stamped with wisdom and virtue that, in fine, the hap- piness of the people of these States, under the auspices of liberty, may be made complete, by so careful a preservation, and so prudent a use of this blessing, as will acquire to them the glory of recommending it to the ap- plause of every nation which is yet a stranger to it. Here, perhaps, I ought to stop. But a solicitude for your welfare, which cannot end but with my life, and the apprehension of danger, natural to that solicitude, urge me, on an occasion like the present, to offer to your solemn contemplation, and to recommend to your frequent review, some sen- timents ; which are the result of much reflection, of no inconsiderable obser- vation, and which appear to me all-important to the permanency of your felicity as a people. These will be offered to you with the more freedom, as you can only see in them the disinterested warnings of a parting friend, who can possibly have no personal motives to bias his counsel. Nor can I forget as an encouragement to it, your indulgent reception of my sentiments on a former and not dissimilar occasion. Interwoven as is the love of liberty with 480 WASHINGTON'S FAREWELL ADDRESS. every ligament of your hearts, no recommendation of mine is necessary to for- tify or confirm the attachment. The unity of government which constitutes you one people, is also now dear to me. It is justly so ; for it is a main pillar in the edifice of your real independence, the support of your tranquillity at home, your peace abroad ; of your safety ; of your prosperity ; of that very liberty which you so highly prize. But as it is easy to foresee, that from different causes and from differ- ent quarters, much pains will be taken, many artifices employed, to weaken in your minds the conviction of this truth ; as this is the point in your poli- tical fortress against which the batteries of internal and external enemies will be most constantly and actively (though often covertly and insidiously) di- rected, it is of infinite moment that you should properly estimate the im- mense value of your national Union to your collective and individual happi- ness ; that you should cherish a cordial, habitual, and immovable attachment to it ; accustoming yourselves to think and speak of it as of the Palladium of your political safety and prosperity ; watching for its preservation with jealous anxiety; discountenancing whatever may suggest even a suspicion that it can in any event be abandoned ; and indignantly frowning upon the first dawning of every attempt to alienate any portion of our country from the rest, or to enfeeble the sacred ties which now link together the various parts. For this you have every inducement of sympathy and interest. Citizens by birth or choice, of a common country, that country has a right to con- centrate your affections. The name of AMERICA, which belongs to you in your national capacity, must always exalt the just pride of patriotism, more than any appellation derived from local discriminations. With slight shades of difference, you have the same religion, manners, habits, and political principles. You have in a common cause, fought and triumphed together ; the independence and liberty you possess are the work of joint councils and joint efforts, of common dangers, sufferings, and successes. But these consid- erations, however powerfully they address themselves to your sensibility, are greatly outweighed by those which apply more immediately to your interest here every portion of our country finds the most commanding motives for carefully guarding and preserving the Union of the whole. The North, in an unrestrained intercourse with the South, protected by the equal laws of a common government, finds in the productions of the latter, great additional resources of maritime and commercial enterprise and precious materials of manufacturing industry. The South, in the same in- tercourse, benefiting by the agency of the North, sees its agriculture grow and its commerce expand. Turning partly into its own channels the seamen of the North, it finds its particular navigation invigorated ; and while it con- tributes, in different ways, to nourish and increase the general mass of the national navigation, it looks forward to the protection of a maritime strength, to which itself is unequally adapted. The East, in a like inter- WASHINGTON'S FAREWELL ADDRESS. 481 course with the West, already finds, and in the progressive improvement of interior communications, by land and water, will more and more find a val- uable vent for the commodities which it brings from abroad, or manufactures at home. The West derives from the East supplies requisite to its growth and comfort and what is perhaps of still greater consequence, it must of necessity owe the secure enjoyment of indispensable outlets for its own pro- ductions to the weight, influence, and the future maritime strength of the Atlantic side of the Union, directed by an indissoluble community of inter- est as ONE NATION. Any other tenure by which the West can hold this es- sential advantage, whether derived from its own separate strength, or from an apostate and unnatural connection with any foreign power, must be in- trinsically precarious. While, then, every part of our country thus feels an immediate and partic- ular interest in union, all the parties combined cannot fail to find in the united mass of means and efforts, greater strength, greater resource, proportionably greater security from external danger, a less frequent interruption of their peace by foreign nations ; and, what is of inestimable value ! they must derive from union an exemption from those broils and wars between themselves, which so frequently afflict neighboring countries not tied together by the same gov- ernment ; which their own rivalships alone would be sufficient to produce, but which opposite foreign alliances, attachments, and intrigues would stimu- late and embitter. Hence likewise they will avoid the necessity of those overgrown military establishments, which, under any form of government, are inauspicious to liberty, and which are to be regarded as particularly hos- tile to Republican Liberty ; in this sense it is, that your Union ought to be considered as a main prop of your liberty, and that the love of the one ought to endear to you the preservation of the other. These considerations speak a persuasive language to every reflecting and virtuous mind, and exhibit the continuance of the Union as a primary object of patriotic desire. Is there a doubt whether a common government can embrace so large a sphere? Let experience solve it. To listen to mere speculation in such a case were criminal. We are authorized to hope that a proper organization of the whole, with the auxiliary agency of government for the respective subdivisions, will afford a happy issue to the experiment. 'Tis well worth a fair and full experiment. With such powerful and obvious motives to Union, affecting all parts of our country, while experience shall not have demonstrated its impracticability, there will always be reason to dis- trust the patriotism of those who in any quarter may endeavor to weaken its bands. In contemplating the causes which may disturb our Union, it occurs as a matter of serious concern, that any ground should have been furnished for characterizing parties by geographical discriminations northern and south- ern Atlantic and western ; whence designing men may endeavor to excite a belief that there is a real difference of local interests and views. One of 482 WASHINGTON'S FAREWELL ADDRESS. the expedients of party to acquire influence within particular districts, is. to misrepresent the opinions and aims of other districts. You cannot shield yourselves too much against the jealousies and heart-burnings which spring from those misrepresentations : they tend to render alien to each other tho.se who ought to be bound together by fraternal affection. The inhabitants of our western country have lately had a useful lesson on this head ; they have seen in the negotiation by the Executive, and in the unanimous ratification by the Senate, of the treaty with Spain, and in the universal satisfaction at that event throughout the United States, a decisive proof how unfounded were the suspicions propagated among them, of a policy in the General Government and in the Atlantic States unfriendly to their interests in regard to the Mississippi ; they have been witnesses to the formation of two treaties that with Great Britain and that with Spain which secure to them every thing they could desire, in respect to our foreign relations, toward confirming their prosperity. Will it not be their wisdom to rely for the preservation of these advantages on the UNION by which they were procured ? Will they not henceforth be deaf to those advisers, if such there are, who would sever them from their brethren, and connect them with aliens? To the efficacy and permanency of your Union, a government for the whole is indispensable. No alliances, however strict, between the parts, can be an adequate substitute; they must inevitably experience the infractions and interruptions which all alliances in all times have experienced. Sensi- ble of this momentous truth, you have improved upon your first essay, by the adoption of a Constitution of government better calculated than your former for an intimate Union, and for the efficacious management of your common concerns. This government, the offspring of our own choice, unin- fluenced and unawed, adopted upon full investigation and mature delibera- tion, completely free in its principles, in the distribution of its powers, uniting security with energy, and containing within itself a provision for its own amendment, has a just claim to your confidence and your support. Respect for its authority, compliance with its laws, acquiescence in its measures, are .duties enjoined by the fundamental maxims of true Liberty. The basis of our political systems is the right of the people to make and to alter their Con- stitutions of Government ; but the Constitution which at any time exists, till changed by an explicit and authentic act of the whole people, is sacredly ob- ligatory upon all. The very idea of the power and the right of the people to establish government, presupposes the duty of every individual to obey the established government. All obstructions to the execution of the laws, all combinations and asso- ciations, under whatever plausible character, with the real design to direct, control, counteract, or awe the regular deliberation and action of the consti- tuted authorities, are destructive to this fundamental principle, and of fatal tendency. They serve to organize faction, to give it an artificial and extra- ordinary force to put in the place of the delegated will of the nation, the WASHINGTON'S FAREWELL ADDRESS. 488 will of a party, often a small but artful and enterprising minority of the com- munity; and, according to the alternate triumphs of different parties, to make the public administration the mirror of the ill-concerted and incongru- ous projects of faction, rather than the organ of consistent and wholesome plans, digested by common councils, and modified by mutual interests. How- ever combinations or associations of the above description may now and then answer popular ends, they are likely, in the course of time and things, to be- come potent engines, by which cunning, ambitious, and unprincipled men will be enabled to subvert the power of the people, and to usurp for them- selves the reins of government ; destroying afterward the very engines which have lifted them to unjust dominion. Toward the preservation of your government, and the permanency of your present happy state, it is requisite, not only that you speedily discoun- tenance irregular oppositions to its acknowledged authority, but also that you resist with care the spirit of innovation upon its principles, however specious the pretexts. One method of assault may be to effect, in the forms of the Constitution, alterations which impair the energy of the system, and thus to undermine what cannot directly be overthrown. In all the changes to which you may be invited, remember that time and habit are at least as necessary to fix the true character of governments as of other human institutions that experience is the surest standard by which to test the real tendency of the existing Constitution of a country that facility in changes upon the credit of mere hypothesis and opinion, exposes to perpetual change from the endless variety of hypothesis and opinion ; and remember, especially, that for the efficient management of your common interests, in a country so ex- tensive as ours, a government of as much vigor as is consistent with the per- fect security of liberty, is indispensable. Liberty itself will find in such a government, with powers properly distributed and adjusted, its surest guard- ian. It is, indeed, little else than a name, where the government is too feeble to withstand the enterprise of faction, to confine each member of the society within the limits prescribed by the laws, and to maintain all in the se- cure and tranquil enjoyment of the rights of person and property. I have already intimated to you the danger of parties in the State, with particular reference to the founding of them on geographical discriminations. Let me now take a more comprehensive view, and warn you in the most solemn manner against the baneful effects of the spirit of party, generally. This spirit, unfortunately, is inseparable from our nature, having its root in the strongest passions of the human mind. It exists under different shapes in all governments, more or less stifled, controlled or repressed ; but in those of the popular form, it is seen in its greatest rankness, and is truly their worst enemy. The alternate domination of one faction over another, sharp- ened by the spirit of revenge, natural to party dissension, which, in different ages and countries, has perpetrated the most horrid enormities, is itself a frightful despotism. But this leads at length to a more formal and perma- 484 WASHINGTON'S FABEWELL ADDRESS. nent despotism. The disorders and miseries which result, gradually incline the minds of men to seek security and repose in the absolute power of an in- dividual ; and sooner or later, the chief of some prevailing faction, more able or more fortunate than his competitor, turns this disposition to the purposes of his own elevation, on the ruins of public liberty. Without looking forward to an extremity of this kind (which, neverthe- less, ought not to be entirely out of sight,) the common and continual mis- chiefs of the spirit of party are sufficient to make it the interest and duty of a wise people to discourage and restrain it. It serves always to distract the public councils and enfeeble the public administration. It agitates the com- munity with ill-founded jealousies and false alarms; kindles the animosity of one part against another ; foments occasionally riot and insurrection. It opens the door to foreign influence and corruption, which find a facilitated access to the government itself through the channels of party passions. Thus the policy and the will of one country are subjected to the policy and the will of another. There is an opinion that parties in free countries are useful checks upon the administration of the government, and serve to keep alive the spirit of liberty. This within certain limits is probably true ; and in governments of a monarchical cast, patriotism may look with indulgence, if not with favor, upon the spirit of party. But in those of the popular character, in govern- ments purely elective, it is a spirit not to be encouraged. From their natural tendency, it is certain there will always be enough of that spirit for every salutary purpose. And there being constant danger of excess, the effort ought to be by force of public opinion, to mitigate and assuage it. A fire not to be quenched ; it demands a uniform vigilance to prevent its bursting into a flame, lest, instead of w r arming, it should consume. It is important, likewise, that the habits of thinking, in a free country, should inspire caution in those intrusted with its administration, to confine themselves within their respective constitutional spheres, avoiding, in the ex- ercise of the powers of one department, to encroach upon another. The spirit of encroachment tends to consolidate the powers of all the departments in one, and thus to create, whatever the form of government, a real despot- ism. A just estimate of that love of power, and proneness to abuse it, which predominates in the human heart, is sufficient to satisfy us of this position. The necessity of reciprocal checks in the exercise of political power, by di- viding and distributing it into different depositories, and constituting each the guardian of public weal against invasions by the others, has been evinced by experiments ancient and modern : some of them in our country and under our own eyes. To preserve them must be as necessary as to institute them. If, in the opinion of the people, the distribution or modification of the constitutional powers be in any particular wrong, let it be corrected by an amendment in the way which the Constitution designates. But let there b no change by usurpation; for though this, in one instance, may be the WASHINGTON'S FAREWELL ADDRESS. 485 instrument of good, it is the customary weapon by which free governments are destroyed. The precedent must always greatly overbalance in perma- nent evil any partial or transient benefit which the use can at any time yield. Of all the dispositions and habits which lead to political prosperity, re- ligion and morality are indispensable supports. In vain would that man claim the tribute of patriotism, who should labor to subvert these great pil- lars of human happiness, these firmest props of the duties of men and citi- zens. The mere politician, equally with the pious man, ought to respect and to cherish them. A volume could not trace all their connections with private and public felicity. Let it simply be asked where is the security for property, for reputation, for life, if the sense of religious obligation DESERT the oaths, which are the instruments of investigation in courts of justice ; and let us with caution indulge the supposition, that morality can be main- tained without religion. Whatever may be conceded to the influence of refined education on minds of peculiar structure, reason and experience both forbid us to expect that national morality can prevail in exclusion of religious principle. It is substantially true, that virtue or morality is a necessary spring of popular government. The rule, indeed, extends with more or less force to every species of free government. Who that is a sincere friend to it can look with indifference upon attempts to shake the foundation of the fabric 1 Promote, then, as an object of primary importance, institutions for the general diffusion of knowledge. In proportion as the structure of a govern- ment gives force to public opinion, it is essential that public opinion should be enlightened. As a very important source of strength and security, cherish public credit ; one method of preserving it is to use it as sparingly as possi- ble ; avoiding occasions of expense by cultivating peace ; but remembering, also, that timely disbursements to prepare for danger, frequently prevent much greater disbursements to repel it ; avoiding, likewise, the accumulations of debt, not only by shunning occasions of expense, but by vigorous exertions in time of peace to discharge the debts which unavoidable wars may have occasioned, not ungenerously throwing upon posterity the burdens which we ourselves ought to bear. The execution of these maxims belongs to your Representatives, but it is necessary that public opinion should co-operate. To facilitate to them the performance of their duty, it is essential that you should practically bear in mind, that toward the payment of debts there must be revenue ; that to have revenue there must be taxes ; that no taxes can be devised which are not more or less inconvenient and unpleasant ; and the intrinsic embarrassment inseparable from the selection of the proper object (which is always a choice of difficulties) ought to be a decisive motive for the candid construction of the conduct of the government in making it, and lor a spirit of acquiescence in the measures for obtaining revenue which the pub- lic exigencies may at any time dictate. Observe good faith and justice toward all nations ; cultivate peace and 486 WASHINGTON'S FAREWELL ADDRESS. harmony with all ; religion and morality enjoin this conduct ; and can it be that good policy does not equally enjoin it \ It will be worthy of a free, enlightened, and at no distant period, a great nation, to give to mankind the magnanimous and too novel example of a people always guided by an exalted justice and benevolence. Who can doubt that in the course of time and things, the fruits of such, a plan would richly repay any temporary advan- tages which might be lost by a steady adherence to it? Can it be that Provi- dence has not connected the permanent felicity of a nation with its virtue ? The experiment, at least, is recommended by every sentiment which ennobles human nature. Alas ! is it rendered impossible by its vices ? In the execution of such a plan, nothing is more essential than that per- manent inveterate antipathies against particular nations, and passionate attach- ments for others should be excluded ; and that, in place of them, just and amicable feelings toward all should be cultivated. The nation which indulges toward another an habitual hatred, or an habitual fondness, is in some degree a slave. It is a slave to its animosity or to its affection, either of which is sufficient to lead it astray from its duty and its interest. Antipathy in one nation against another, disposes each more readily to offer insult and injury, to lay hold of slight causes of umbrage, and to be haughty and intractable, when accidental or trifling occasions of dispute occur. Hence frequent col- lisions, obstinate, envenomed, and bloody contests. The nation prompted by ill-will and resentment, sometimes impels to war the government, contrary to the best calculations of policy. The government sometimes participates in the national propensity, and adopts r through passion, what reason would reject; at other times, it makes the animosity of the nation subservient to projects of hostility, instigated by pride, ambition, and other sinister and per- nicious motives. The peace often, sometimes perhaps the liberty, of nations has been the victim. So, likewise, a passionate attachment of one nation for another produces a variety of evils. Sympathy for the favorite nation, facilitating the illusion of an imaginary common interest, in cases where no real common interest exists, and infusing into one the enmities of the other, betrays the former into a participation in the quarrels and wars of the latter, without adequate induce- ment or justification. It leads also to the concessions to the favorite nation of privileges denied to others, which is apt doubly to injure the nation making the concessions; by unnecessarily parting with what ought to have been retained ; and by exciting jealousy, ill-will, and a disposition to retaliate, in the parties from whom equal privileges are withheld and it gives to ambi- tious, corrupted, or deluded citizens (who devote themselves to the favorite nation), facility to betray or sacrifice the interests of their own country with- out odium, sometimes even with popularity ; gilding with the appearance of a virtuous sense of obligation, a commendable deference for public opinion, or a laudable zeal for public good, the base or foolish compliances of ambition, corruption or infatuation. WASHINGTON'S FAREWELL ADDRESS. 487 As avenues to foreign influence in innumerable ways, such attachments are particularly alarming to the truly enlightened and independent patriot. How many opportunities do they afford to tamper with domestic factions to practice the arts of seduction, to mislead public opinions, to influence or awe public councils ! Such an attachment of a small or weak, toward a great and powerful nation, dooms the former to be the satellite of the latter. Against the insidious wiles of foreign influence (I conjure you to believe me, fellow citizens), the jealousy of a free people ought to be CONSTANTLY awake; since history and experience prove that foreign influence is one of the most baneful foes of republican government. But that jealousy, to be useful, must be impartial ; else it becomes the instrument of the very influence to be avoided, instead of a defence against it. Excessive partiality for one foreign nation, and excessive dislike of another, cause those whom they actuate, to see danger only on one side, and serve to vail and even second the arts, of influence on the other. Real patriots, who may resist the intrigues of the favorite, are liable to become suspected and odious ; while its tools and dupes usurp the applause and confidence of the people, to surrender their interests. The great rule of conduct for us, in regard to foreign nations, is, in extending our commercial relations, to have with them as little political connection as possible. So far as we have already formed engagements, let them be fulfilled with perfect good faith. Here let us stop. Europe has a set of primary interests, which to us have none, or a very remote relation. Hence she must be engaged in frequent controversies, the causes of which are essentially foreign to our concerns. Hence, therefore, it must be unwise in us to implicate ourselves by artificial ties, in the ordinary vicissitudes of her politics, or the ordinary combinations and collisions of her friendships or enmities. Our detached and distant situation invites and ena- bles us to pursue a different course. If we remain one people under an effi- cient government, the period is not far off when we may defy material injury from external annoyance ; when we may take such an attitude as will cause the neutrality we may at any time resolve upon, to be scrupulously respected ; when belligerent nations, under the impossibility of making acquisitions upon us, will not lightly hazard the giving us provocation ; when we may choose peace or war, as our interest, guided by justice, shall counsel. Why forego the advantage of so peculiar a situation ? Why quit our own to stand upon foreign ground ? Why, by interweaving our destiny with any part of Europe, entangle our peace and prosperity in the toils of European ambition, rivalship, interest, humor, or caprice ? It is our true policy to steer clear of permanent alliances with any portion of the foreign world; so far, I mean, as we are now at liberty to do it; for let me not be understood as capable of patronizing infidelity to existing engagements. I hold the maxim no less applicable to public than to private affairs, that honesty is always the best policy. I repeat it, therefore, let those engagements be observed in their genuine sense. But, in my opinion, it is unnecessary, and would be unwise 488 WASHINGTON'S FAREWELL ADDRESS. to extend them. Taking care always to keep ourselves, by suitable establish- ments, in a respectable defensive posture, we may safely trust to temporary alliances for extraordinary emergences. Harmony, liberal intercourse with all nations, are recommended by policy, humanity, and interest. But even our commercial policy should hold au equal and impartial hand; neither seeking nor granting exclusive favors or preferences; consulting the natural course of things; diffusing and diversify - ing, by gentle means, the streams of commerce, but forcing nothing; estab- lishing with powers so disposed, in order to give trade a stable course, to define the rights of our merchants, and to enable the government to support them, conventional rules of intercourse, the best that present circumstances! and mutual opinion will permit, but temporary, and liable to be from time to time abandoned or varied, as experience or circumstances shall dictate; con- stantly keeping in view, that it is folly in one nation to look for disinterested favors from another; that it must pay with a portion of its independence for whatever it may accept under that character; that by such acceptance, it may place itself in the condition of having given equivalent for nominal favors, and yet of being reproached with ingratitude for not giving more. There can be no greater error than to expect or calculate upon real favors from nation to nation. 'Tis an illusion which experience must cure, which a just pride ought to discard. In offering to you, my countrymen, these counsels of an old and affection- ate friend, I dare not hope they will make the strong and lasting impression I could wish; that they will control the usual current of the passions, or pre- vent bur nation from running the course which has hitherto marked the destiny of nations ; but if I may even flatter myself that they may be pro- ductive of some partial benefit, some occasional good; that they may now and then recur to moderate the fury of party spirit, to warn against the mis- chiefs of foreign intrigues, and guard against the impostures of pretended patriotism; this hope will be a full recompense for the solicitude for your welfare, by which they have been dictated. How far, in the discharge of my official duties, I have been guided by the principles which have been deline- ated, the public records and other evidences of my conduct must witness to you and to the world. To myself, the assurance of my own conscience is, that I have at least believed myself to be guided by them. In relation to the still subsisting war in Europe, my proclamation of the 22d of April, 1793, is the index to my plan. Sanctioned by your approving voice and by that of your representatives in both Houses of Congress, the spirit of that measure has continually governed me; uninfluenced by any attempt to deter or divert me from it. After deliberate examination, with the aid of the best lights I could obtain, I was well satisfied that our country, under all the circumstances of the case, had a right to take, and was bound in duty and interest to take a neutral position. Having taken it, I determine ', WASHINGTON'S FAREWELL ADDRESS. 489 as far as should depend upon me, to maintain it with moderation, persever- ance and firmness. The consideration which respects the right to hold this conduct, it is not necessary on this occasion to detail. I will only observe, that according to my understanding of the matter, that right, so far from being denied by any of the belligerent powers, has been virtually admitted by all. The duty of holding a neutral conduct may be inferred, without any thing more, from the obligation which justice and humanity impose upon every nation, in cases in which it is free to act, to maintain inviolate the relations of peace and amity toward other nations. The inducements of interest for observing that con- duct will be best referred to your own reflection and experience. With me, a predominant motive has been to endeavor to gain time to our country to settle and mature its yet recent institutions, and to progress, without inter- ruption, to that degree of strength and consistency which is necessary to give it, humanly speaking, the command of its own fortunes. Though in reviewing the incidents of my administration, I am unconscious of intentional error, I am, nevertheless, too sensible of my defects not to think it probable that I have committed many errors. Whatever they may be, I fervently beseech the Almighty to avert or mitigate the evils to which they may tend. I shall also carry with me the hope that my country will never cease to view them with indulgence ; and that after forty-five years of my life dedicated to its service, with an upright zeal, the faults of incompe- tent abilities will be consigned to oblivion, as myself must soon be to the mansions of rest. Relying on its kindness in this as in other things, and actuated by that fervent love toward it, which is so natural to a man who views in it the native soil of himself and his progenitors for several genera- tions ; I anticipate with pleasing expectation that retreat, in which I promise myself to realize without alloy, the sweet enjoyment of partaking, in the midst of my fellow-citizens, the benign influence of good laws under a free government the ever-favorite object of my heart, and the happy reward, as I trust, of our mutual cares, labors, and dangers. GEORGE WASHINGTON. UNITED STATES. September 17, 1*296. UC SOUTHERN REGIONAL 000 034 432 5