AID FROM FRANCE; TRAITORS

This month of July, 1778, marked two vital changes in the war. The
first was the transfer by the British of the field of operations to
the South. The second was the introduction of naval warfare through
the coming of the French. The British seemed to desire, from the day
of Concord and Lexington on, to blast every part of the Colonies with
military occupation and battles. After Washington drove them out
of Boston in March, 1776, they left the seaboard, except Newport,
entirely free. Then for nearly three years they gave their chief
attention to New York City and its environs, and to Jersey down to,
and including, Philadelphia. On the whole, except for keeping their
supremacy in New York, they had lost ground steadily, although they
had always been able to put more men than the Americans could match in
the field, so that the Americans always had an uphill fight. Part of
this disadvantage was owing to the fact that the British had a fleet,
often a very large fleet, which could be sent suddenly to distant
points along the seacoast, much to the upsetting of the American
plans.

The French Alliance, ratified during the spring, not only gave the
Americans the moral advantage of the support of a great nation, but
actually the support of a powerful fleet. It opened French harbors to
American vessels, especially privateers, which could there take refuge
or fit out. It enabled the Continentals to carry on commerce, which
before the war had been the monopoly of England. Above all it brought
a large friendly fleet to American waters, which might aid the land
forces and must always be an object of anxiety to the British.

Such a fleet was that under Count d'Estaing, who reached the mouth of
Delaware Bay on July 8, 1778, with twelve ships of the line and four
frigates. He then went to New York, but the pilots thought his heavy
draught ships could not cross the bar above Sandy Hook; and so he
sailed off to Newport where a British fleet worsted him and he was
obliged to put into Boston for repairs. Late in the autumn he took up
his station in the West Indies for the winter. This first experiment
of French naval cooeperation had not been crowned by victory as the
Americans had hoped, but many of the other advantages which they
expected from the French Alliance did ensue. The opening of the
American ports to the trade of the world, and incidentally the
promotion of American privateering, proved of capital assistance to
the cause itself.

The summer and autumn of 1778 passed uneventfully for Washington and
his army. He was not strong enough to risk any severe fighting, but
wished to be near the enemy's troops to keep close watch on them and
to take advantage of any mistake in their moves. We cannot see how he
could have saved himself if they had attacked him with force. But that
they never made the attempt was probably owing to orders from London
to be as considerate of the Americans as they could; for England in
that year had sent out three Peace Commissioners who bore the most
seductive offers to the Americans. The Government was ready to pledge
that there should never again be an attempt to quell the Colonists by
an army and that they should be virtually self-governing. But while
the Commissioners tried to persuade, very obviously, they did not
receive any official recognition from the Congress or the local
conventions, and when winter approached, they sailed back to England
with their mission utterly unachieved. Rebuffed in their purpose of
ending the war by conciliation, the British now resorted to treachery
and corruption. I do not know whether General Sir Henry Clinton was
more or less of a man of honor than the other high officers in the
British army at that time. We feel instinctively loath to harbor a
suspicion against the honor of these officers; and yet, the truth
demands us to declare that some one among them engaged in the
miserable business of bribing Americans to be traitors. Where the full
guilt lies, we shall never know, but the fact that so many of the
trails lead back to General Clinton gives us a reason for a strong
surmise. We have lists drawn up at British Headquarters of the
Americans who were probably approachable, and the degree of ease with
which it was supposed they could be corrupted. "Ten thousand guineas
and a major-general's commission were the price for which West Point,
with its garrison, stores, and outlying posts, was to be placed in the
hands of the British."[1] The person with whom the British made this
bargain was Benedict Arnold, who had been one of the most efficient of
Washington's generals, and of unquestioned loyalty. Major John Andre,
one of Clinton's adjutants, served as messenger between Clinton
and Arnold. On one of these errands Andre, somewhat disguised, was
captured by the Americans and taken before Washington, who ordered a
court-martial at once. Fourteen officers sat on it, including Generals
Greene, Lafayette, and Steuben. In a few hours they brought in a
verdict to the effect that "Major Andre ought to be considered a spy
from the enemy, and that agreeable to the law and usage of nations,
it is their opinion he ought to suffer death." [2] Throughout the
proceedings Andre behaved with great dignity. He was a young man
of sympathetic nature. Old Steuben, familiar with the usage in the
Prussian army, said: "It is not possible to save him. He put us to no
proof, but a premeditated design to deceive."

He was sentenced to death by hanging--the doom of traitors. He did
not fear to die, but that doom repelled him and he begged to be shot
instead. Washington, however, in view of his great crime and as a
most necessary example in that crisis, firmly refused to commute the
sentence. So, on the second of October, 1780, Andre was hanged.

This is an appropriate place to refer briefly to one of the most
trying features of Washington's career as Commander-in-Chief. From
very early in the war jealousy inspired some of his associates with a
desire to have him displaced. He was too conspicuously the very head
and front of the American cause. Some men, doubtless open to dishonest
suggestions, wished to get rid of him in order that they might carry
on their treasonable conspiracy with greater ease and with a better
chance of success. Others bluntly coveted his position. Perhaps some
of them really thought that he was pursuing wrong methods or policy.
However it may be, few commanders-in-chief in history have had to
suffer more than Washington did from malice and faction.

The most serious of the plots against him was the so-called Conway
Cabal, whose head was Thomas Conway, an Irishman who had served in the
French army and had come over early in the war to the Colonies to make
his way as a soldier of fortune. He seems to have been one of the
typical Irishmen who had no sense of truth, who was talkative and
boastful, and a mirthful companion. It happened that Washington
received a letter from one of his friends which drew from him the
following note to Brigadier-General Conway:

A letter, which I received last night, contained the following
paragraph:

"In a letter from General Conway to General Gates he says, 'Heaven
has been determined to save your country, or a weak General and
bad counsellors would have ruined it.'"

It was characteristic of Washington that he should tell Conway at once
that he knew of the latter's machinations. Nevertheless Washington
took no open step against him. The situation of the army at Valley
Forge was then so desperately bad that he did not wish to make it
worse, perhaps, by interjecting into it what might be considered a
matter personal to himself. In the Congress also there were members
who belonged to the Conway Cabal, and although it was generally known
that Washington did not trust him, Congress raised his rank to that of
Major-General and appointed him Inspector-General to the Army. On this
Conway wrote to Washington: "If my appointment is productive of any
inconvenience, or otherwise disagreeable to your Excellency, as I
neither applied nor solicited for this place, I am very ready to
return to France." The spice of this letter consists in the fact that
Conway's disavowal was a plain lie; for he had been soliciting for the
appointment "with forwardness," says Mr. Ford, "almost amounting to
impudence." Conway did not enjoy his new position long. Being wounded
in a duel with an American officer, and thinking that he was going to
die, he wrote to Washington: "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 these states, whose liberties you have
asserted by your virtues."[1] But he did not die of his wound, and in
a few months he left for France. After his departure the cabal, of
which he seemed to be the centre, died.

The story of this cabal is still shrouded in mystery. Whoever had the
original papers either destroyed them or left them with some one who
deposited them in a secret place where they have been forgotten.
Persons of importance, perhaps of even greater importance than some of
those who are known, would naturally do their utmost to prevent being
found out.

Two other enemies of Washington had unsavory reputations in their
dealings with him. One of these was General Horatio Gates, who was
known as ambitious to be made head of the American army in place
of Washington. Gates won the Battle of Saratoga at which Burgoyne
surrendered his British army. Washington at that time was struggling
to keep his army in the Highlands, where he could watch the other
British forces. It was easy for any one to make the remark that
Washington had not won a battle for many months, whereas Gates was
the hero of the chief victory thus far achieved by the Americans.
The shallow might think as they chose, however: the backbone of the
country stood by Washington, and the trouble between him and Gates
came to no further outbreak.

The third intriguer was General Charles Lee, who, like Gates, was
an Englishman, and had served under General Braddock, being in the
disaster of Fort Duquesne. When the Revolution broke out, he took
sides with the Americans, and being a glib and forth-putting person he
talked himself into the repute of being a great general. The Americans
proudly gave him a very high commission, in which he stood second to
Washington, the Commander-in-Chief. But being taken prisoner by the
British, he had no opportunity of displaying his military talents for
more than two years. Then, when Washington was pursuing the enemy
across Jersey, Lee demanded as his right to lead the foremost
division. At Monmouth he was given the post of honor and he attacked
with such good effect that he had already begun to beat the British
division opposed to him when he suddenly gave strange orders which
threw his men into confusion.

Lafayette, who was not far away, noticed the disorder, rode up to Lee
and remarked that the time seemed to be favorable for cutting off a
squadron of the British troops. To this Lee replied: "Sir, you do not
know the British soldiers; we cannot stand against them; we shall
certainly be driven back at first, and we must be cautious."[1]
Washington himself had by this time perceived that something was wrong
and galloped up to Lee in a towering passion. He addressed him words
which, so far as I know, no historian has reported, not because there
was any ambiguity in them, and Lee's line was sufficiently re-formed
to save the day. Lee, however, smarted under the torrent of reproof,
as well he might. The next day he wrote Washington a very insulting
letter. Washington replied still more hotly. Lee demanded a
court-martial and was placed under arrest on three charges: "First,
disobedience of orders in not attacking the enemy agreeably to
repeated instructions; secondly, misbehavior before the enemy, in
making an unnecessary, disorderly and shameful retreat; thirdly,
disrespect to the Commander-in-Chief in two letters written after the
action."[2] By the ruling of the court all the charges against General
Lee were sustained with the exception that the word "shameful" was
omitted. Lee left the army, retired to Philadelphia, and died before
the end of the Revolution. General Mifflin, another conspicuous member
of the cabal, resigned at the end of the year, December, 1777. So the
traducers of Washington were punished by the reactions of their own
crimes.

That the malicious hostility of his enemies really troubled
Washington, such a letter as the following from him to President
Laurens of the Congress well indicates. He says:

I cannot sufficiently express the obligation I feel to you, for
your friendship and politeness upon an occasion in which I am so
deeply interested. I was not unapprized that a malignant faction
had been for some time forming to my prejudice; which, conscious
as I am of having ever done all in my power to answer the
important purposes of the trust reposed in me, could not but give
me some pain on a personal account. But my chief concern arises
from an apprehension of the dangerous consequences, which
intestine dissensions may produce to the common cause.

As I have no other view than to promote the public good, and
am unambitious of honors not founded in the approbation of my
country, I would not desire in the least degree to suppress a free
spirit of inquiry into any part of my conduct, that even faction
itself may deem reprehensible. The anonymous paper handed to you
exhibits many serious charges, and it is my wish that it should
be submitted to Congress. This I am the more inclined to
the suppression or concealment may possibly involve you in
embarrassments hereafter, since it is uncertain how many or who
may be privy to the contents.

My enemies take an ungenerous advantage of me. They know the
delicacy of my situation, and that motives of policy deprive me
of the defence, 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. But why should I expect to be exempt from
censure, the unfailing lot of an elevated station? Merit and
talents, with which I can have no pretensions of rivalship, have
ever been subject to it. My heart tells me, that it has been my
unremitted aim to do the best that circumstances would permit; yet
I may have been very often mistaken in my judgment of the means,
and may in many instances deserve the imputation of error. (Valley
Forge, 31 January, 1778.)

Such was the sort of explanation which was wrung from the Silent Man
when he explained to an intimate the secrets of his heart.

To estimate the harassing burden of these plots we must bear in mind
that, while Washington had to suffer them in silence, he had also to
deal every day with the Congress and with an army which, at Valley
Forge, was dying slowly of cold and starvation. There was literally no
direction from which he could expect help; he must hold out as long as
he could and keep from the dwindling, disabled army the fact that some
day they would wake up to learn that the last crumb had been eaten
and that death only remained for them. On one occasion, after he had
visited Philadelphia and had seen the Congress in action, he unbosomed
himself about it in a letter which contained these terrible words:

If I was to be called upon to draw a picture of the times and of
men, from what I have seen, and heard, and in part know, I should
in one word say that idleness, dissipation and extravagance
seems to have laid fast hold of most of them. That
speculation--peculation--and an insatiable thirst for riches seems
to have got the better of every other consideration and almost of
every order of men. That party disputes and personal quarrels are
the great business of the day whilst the momentous concerns of an
empire--a great and accumulated debt--ruined finances--depreciated
money--and want of credit (which in their consequences is the want
of everything) are but secondary considerations, and postponed
from day to day--from week to week as if our affairs wear the
most-promising aspect.

The events of 1778 made a lasting impression on King George III.
The alliance of France with the Americans created a sort of reflex
patriotism which the Government did what it could to foster. British
Imperialism flamed forth as an ideal, one whose purposes must be to
crush the French. The most remarkable episode was the return of the
Earl of Chatham, much broken and in precarious health, to the King's
fold. To the venerable statesman the thought that any one with British
blood in his veins should stand by rebels of British blood, or by
their French allies, was a cause of rage. On April 7, 1778, the great
Chatham appeared in the House of Lords and spoke for Imperialism and
against the Americans and French. There was a sudden stop in his
speaking, and a moment later, confusion, as he fell in a fit. He never
spoke there again, and though he was hurried home and cared for by the
doctors as best they could, he died on the eleventh of May. At the
end he reverted to the dominant ideal of his life--the supremacy of
England. So his chief rival in Parliament, Edmund Burke, who shocked
more than half of England by seeming to approve the nascent French
Revolution, died execrating it.

The failure of the Commission on Reconciliation to get even an
official hearing in America further depressed George III, and there
seemed to have flitted through his unsound mind more and more frequent
premonitions that England might not win after all. Having made
friendly overtures, which were rejected, he now planned to be more
savage than ever. In 1779 the American privateers won many victories
which gave them a reputation out of proportion to the importance of
the battles they fought, or the prizes they took. Chief among the
commanders of these vessels was a Scotchman, John Paul Jones, who
sailed the Bonhomme Richard and with two companion ships attacked the
Serapis and the Scarborough, convoying a company of merchantmen off
Flamborough Head. Night fell, darkness came, the Bonhomme Richard and
the Serapis kept up bombarding each other at short range. During a
brief pause, Pearson, the British captain, called out, "Have you
struck your colors?" at which Jones shouted back, "I have not yet
begun to fight." Before morning the Serapis surrendered and in the
forenoon the victorious Bonhomme Richard sank. Europe rang with the
exploit; not merely those easily thrilled by a spectacular engagement,
but those who looked deeper began to ask themselves whether the naval
power that must be reckoned with was not rising in the West.

Meanwhile, Washington kept his uncertain army near New York. The city
swarmed with Loyalists, who at one time boasted of having a volunteer
organization larger than Washington's army. These later years seem
to have been the hey-day of the Loyalists in most of the Colonies,
although the Patriots passed severe laws against them, sequestrating
their property and even banishing them. In places like New York, where
General Clinton maintained a refuge, they stayed on, hoping, as they
had done for several years, that the war would soon be over and the
King's authority restored.

In the South there were several minor fights, in which now the British
and now the Americans triumphed. At the end of December, 1779, Clinton
and Cornwallis with nearly eight thousand men went down to South
Carolina intending to reduce that State to submission. One of
Washington's lieutenants, General Lincoln, ill-advisedly thought that
he could defend Charleston. But as soon as the enemy were ready, they
pressed upon him hard and he surrendered. The year ended in gloom. The
British were virtually masters in the Carolinas and in Georgia. The
people of those States felt that they had been abandoned by the
Congress and that they were cut off from relations with the Northern
States. The glamour of glory at sea which had brightened them all
the year before had vanished. John Paul Jones might win a striking
sea-fight, but there was no navy, nor ships enough to transport troops
down to the Southern waters where they might have turned the tide
of battle on shore. During the winter the British continued their
marauding in the South. For lack of troops Washington was obliged
to stay in his quarters near New York and feel the irksomeness of
inactivity. General Nathanael Greene, a very energetic officer, next
indeed to Washington himself in general estimation, commanded in
the South. At the Cowpens (January 17, 1781) one of his
lieutenants--Morgan, a guerilla leader--killed or captured nearly all
of Tarleton's men, who formed a specially crack regiment. A little
later Washington marched southward to Virginia, hoping to cooeperate
with the French fleet under Rochambeau and to capture Benedict Arnold,
now a British Major-General, who was doing much damage in Virginia.
Arnold was too wary to be caught. Cornwallis, the second in command of
the British forces, pursued Lafayette up and down Virginia. Clinton,
the British Commander-in-Chief, began to feel nervous for the
safety of New York and wished to detach some of his forces thither.
Cornwallis led his army into Yorktown and proceeded to fortify it, so
that it might resist a siege. Now at last Washington felt that he
had the enemy's army within his grasp. Sixteen thousand American and
French troops were brought down from the North to furnish the fighting
arm he required.

Yorktown lay on the south shore of the York River, an estuary of
Chesapeake Bay. On the opposite side the little town of Gloucester
projected into the river. In Yorktown itself the English had thrown up
two redoubts and had drawn some lines of wall. The French kept up an
unremitting cannonade, but it became evident that the redoubts must be
taken in order to subdue the place. Washington, much excited, took his
place in the central battery along with Generals Knox and Lincoln and
their staff. Those about him recognized the peril he was in, and one
of his adjutants called his attention to the fact that the place was
much exposed. "If you think so," said he, "you are at liberty to
step back." Shortly afterward a musket ball struck the cannon in the
embrasure and rolled on till it fell at his feet. General Knox took
him by the arm. "My dear General," he exclaimed, "we can't spare you
yet." "It is a spent ball," Washington rejoined calmly; "no harm is
done." When the redoubts were taken, he drew a long breath and said to
Knox: "The work is done, and well done."[1] Lord Cornwallis saw that
his position was desperate, if not hopeless. And on October 16th
he made a plucky attempt to retard the final blow, but he did not
succeed. That evening he thought of undertaking a last chance. He
would cross the York River in flatboats, land at Gloucester, and march
up the country through Virginia, Maryland, Pennsylvania, and New York.
Any one who knew the actual state of that region understood that
Cornwallis's plan was crazy; but it is to be judged as the last
gallantry of a brave man. During the night he put forth on his
flatboats, which were driven out of their course and much dispersed by
untoward winds. They had to return to Yorktown by morning, and at ten
o'clock Cornwallis ordered that a parley should be beaten. Then he
despatched a flag of truce with a letter to Washington proposing
cessation of hostilities for twenty-four hours. Washington knew that
British ships were on their way from New York to bring relief and he
did not wish to grant so much delay. He, therefore, proposed that the
formal British terms should be sent to him in writing; upon which he
would agree to a two hours' truce. It was the morning of the 10th of
October that the final arrangement was made. Washington, on horseback,
attended by his staff, headed the American line. His troops, in
worn-out uniforms, but looking happy and victorious, were massed near
him. Count Rochambeau, with his suite, held place on the left of the
road, the French troops all well-uniformed and equipped; and they
marched on the field with a military band playing--the first time, it
was said, that this had been known in America. "About two o'clock the
garrison sallied forth and passed through with shouldered arms, slow
and solemn steps, colors cased, and drums beating a British march."
General O'Hara, who led them, rode up to Washington and apologized for
the absence of Lord Cornwallis, who was indisposed. Washington pointed
O'Hara to General Lincoln, who was to receive the submission of the
garrison. They were marched off to a neighboring field where they
showed a sullen and dispirited demeanor and grounded their arms so
noisily and carelessly that General Lincoln had to reprove them.

With little delay Washington went back to the North with his army,
expecting to see the first fruits of the capitulation. There were
nearly seventeen thousand Allied troops at Yorktown of whom three
thousand were militia of Virginia. The British force under Cornwallis
numbered less than eight thousand men.

Months were required before the truce between the two belligerents
resulted in peace. But the people of America hailed the news of
Yorktown as the end of the war. They had hardly admitted to themselves
the gravity of the task while the war lasted, and being now
relieved of immediate danger, they gave themselves up to surprising
insouciance. A few among them who thought deeply, Washington above
all, feared that the British might indulge in some surprise which they
would find it hard to repel.

But the American Revolution was indeed ended, and the American
Colonies of 1775 were indeed independent and free. Even in the brief
outline of the course of events which I have given, it must appear
that the American Revolution was almost the most hare-brained
enterprise in history. After the first days of Lexington and Concord,
when the farmers and country-folk rushed to the centres to check
the British invaders, the British had almost continuously a large
advantage in position and in number of troops. And in those early days
the Colonists fought, not for Independence, but for the traditional
rights which the British Crown threatened to take from them. Now they
had their freedom, but what a freedom! There were thirteen unrelated
political communities bound together now only by the fact of having
been united in their common struggle against England. Each had adopted
a separate constitution, and the constitutions were not uniform nor
was there any central unifying power to which they all looked up and
obeyed. The vicissitudes of the war, which had been fought over the
region of twelve hundred miles of coast, had proved the repellent
differences of the various districts. The slave-breeder and the
slave-owner of Virginia and the States of the South had little in
common with the gnarled descendants of the later Puritans in New
England. What principle could be found to knit them together? The war
had at least the advantage of bringing home to all of them the evils
of war which they all instinctively desired to escape. The numbers of
the disaffected, particularly of the Loyalists who openly sided with
the King and with the British Government, were much larger than we
generally suppose, and they not only gave much direct help and comfort
to the enemy, but also much indirect and insidious aid. In the great
cities like New York and Philadelphia they numbered perhaps two fifths
of the total population, and, as they were usually the rich and
influential people, they counted for more than their showing in the
census. How could they ever be unified in the American Republic? How
many of them, like the traitorous General Charles Lee, would confess
that, although they were willing to pass by George III as King, they
still felt devotion and loyalty to the Prince of Wales?

Some of those who had leaned toward Loyalism, to be on what they
supposed would prove the winning side, quickly forgot their lapse and
were very enthusiastic in acclaiming the Patriotic victory. Those
Irreconcilables who had not already fled did so at once, leaving their
property behind them to be confiscated by the Government. On only one
point did there seem to be unanimity and accord. That was that the
dogged prosecution of the war and the ultimate victory must be
credited to George Washington. Others had fought valiantly and endured
hardships and fatigues and gnawing suspense, but without him, who
never wavered, they could not have gone on. He had among them some
able lieutenants, but not one who, had he himself fallen out of the
command by wound or sickness for a month, could have taken his place.
The people knew this and they now paid him in honor and gratitude for
what he had done for them. If there were any members of the old cabal,
any envious rivals, they either held their peace or spoke in whispers.
The masses were not yet weary of hearing Aristides called the Just.

TRENTON AND VALLEY FORGE

Howe's retreat from Boston freed Massachusetts and, indeed, all New
England from British troops. It also gave Washington the clue to his
own next move. He was a real soldier and therefore his instinct told
him that his next objective must be the enemy's army. Accordingly
he prepared to move his own troops to New York. He passed through
Providence, Norwich, and New London, reaching New York on April 13th.
Congress was then sitting in Philadelphia and he was requested to
visit it.

He spent a fortnight during May in Philadelphia where he had
conferences with men of all kinds and seems to have been particularly
impressed, not to say shocked, by the lack of harmony which he
discovered. The members of the Congress, although they were ostensibly
devoting themselves to the common affairs of the United Colonies, were
really intriguing each for the interests of his special colony or
section. Washington thought this an ominous sign, as indeed it was,
for since the moment when he joined the Revolution he threw off all
local affiliation. He did his utmost to perform his duty, clinging as
long as he could to the hope that there would be no final break with
England. Throughout the winter, however, from almost every part of the
country the demands of the Colonists for independence became louder
and more urgent and these he heard repeated and discussed during his
visit to the Congress. On May 31st he wrote his brother John Augustine
Washington:

Things have come to that pass now, as to convince us, that we have
nothing more to expect from the justice of Great Britain; also,
that she is capable of the most delusive acts; for I am satisfied,
that no commissioners ever were designed, except Hessians and
other foreigners; and that the idea was only to deceive and throw
us off our guard. The first has been too effectually accomplished,
as many members of Congress, in short, the representation of whole
provinces, are still feeding themselves upon the dainty food
of reconciliation; and though they will not allow, that the
expectation of it has any influence upon their judgment, (with
respect to their preparations for defence,) it is but too obvious,
that it has an operation upon every part of their conduct, and is
a clog to their proceedings. It is not in the nature of things to
be otherwise; for no man, that entertains a hope of seeing this
dispute speedily and equitably adjusted by commissioners, will go
to the same expense and run the same hazards to prepare for the
worst event, as he who believes that he must conquer, or submit to
unconditional terms, and its concomitants, such as confiscation,
hanging, etc. etc.

The Hessians to whom Washington alludes were German mercenaries
hired by the King of England from two or three of the princelings of
Germany. These Hessians turned a dishonest penny by fighting in behalf
of a cause in which they took no immediate interest or even knew what
it was about. During the course of the Revolution there were thirty
thousand Hessians in the British armies in America, and, as their
owners, the German princelings, received L5 apiece for them it was a
profitable arrangement for those phlegmatic, corpulent, and braggart
personages. The Americans complained that the Hessians were brutal and
tricky fighters; but in reality they merely carried out the ideals of
their German Fatherland which remained behind the rest of Europe in
its ideals of what was fitting in war. Being uncivilized, they could
not be expected to follow the practice of civilized warfare.

When Washington returned to his headquarters in New York, he left the
Congress in Philadelphia simmering over the question of Independence.
Almost simultaneously with Washington's return came the British fleet
under Howe, which passed Sandy Hook and sailed up New York Harbor. He
brought an army of twenty-five thousand men. Washington's force was
nominally nineteen thousand men, but it was reduced to not more than
ten thousand by the detachment of several thousand to guard Boston
and of several thousand more to take part in the struggle in Canada,
besides thirty-six hundred sick. The Colonists clung as if by
obsession to their project of capturing Quebec. The death of
Montgomery and the discomfiture of Benedict Arnold, which really gave
a quietus to the success of the expedition, did not suffice to crush
it. Only too evident was it that Quebec could be taken. Canada would
fall permanently into American control, and cease to be a constant
menace and the recruiting ground for new expeditions against the
central Colonies.

August was drawing to a close when the two armies were in a position
to begin fighting. The British, who had originally camped upon Staten
Island where Nature provided them with a shelter from attack, had now
moved across the bay to Long Island. There General Sullivan, having
lost eleven or twelve hundred men, was caught between two fires and
compelled to surrender with the two thousand or more of his army which
remained after the attack of the British. Washington watched the
disaster from Brooklyn, but was unable to detach any regiments to
bring aid to Sullivan, as it now became clear to him that his whole
army on Long Island might easily be cut off. He decided to retreat
from the island. This he did on August 29th, having commandeered every
boat that he could find. He ferried his entire force across to the
New York side with such secrecy and silence that the British did not
notice that they were gone. A heavy fog, which settled over the water
during the night, greatly aided the adventure. The result of
the Battle of Long Island gave the British great exultation and
correspondingly depressed the Americans. On the preceding fourth
of July they had declared their Independence; they were no longer
Colonies but independent States bound together by a common interest.
They felt all the more keenly that in this first battle after their
Independence they should be so ignominiously defeated. They might have
taken much comfort in the thought that had Howe surprised them on
their midnight retreat across the river, he might have captured most
of the American army and probably have ended the war. Washington's
disaster sprang not from his incompetence, but from his inadequate
resources. The British outnumbered him more than two to one and they
had control of the water; an advantage which he could not offset. One
important fact should not be forgotten: New York, both City and State,
had been notoriously Loyalist--that is, pro-British--ever since the
troubles between the Colonists and the British grew angry. Governor
Tryon, the Governor of the State, made no secret of his British
preferences; indeed, they were not preferences at all, but downright
British acts.

Having won the Battle of Long Island, Lord Howe thought the time
favorable for acting in his capacity as a peacemaker, because he had
come over with authority to negotiate a peaceful settlement of the
Colonists' quarrel. He appealed, therefore, to the Congress of
Philadelphia, which appointed a committee of three--Benjamin Franklin,
John Adams, and Edward Rutledge to confer with Lord Howe. The
conference, which exhibited the shrewd quality of John Adams and of
Franklin, the politeness of Rutledge, and the studied urbanity of Lord
Howe, simply showed that there was no common ground on which they
could come to an agreement. The American Commissioners returned to
Philadelphia and Lord Howe to New York City and there were no further
attempts at peacemaking.

Having brought his men to New York, Washington may well have debated
what to do next. The general opinion seemed to be that New York must
be defended at all costs. Whether Washington approved of this plan, I
find it hard to say. Perhaps he felt that if the American army could
hold its own on Manhattan for several weeks, it would be put into
better discipline and prepared either to risk a battle with the
British, or to retreat across the Hudson toward New Jersey. He decided
that for the moment at least he would station his army on the heights
of Harlem. From the house of Colonel Morris, where he made his
headquarters, he wrote on September 4, 1776, to the President of the
Congress: "We are now, as it were, upon the eve of another dissolution
of our army." The term of service of most of the soldiers under
Washington would expire at the end of the year, and he devoted the
greater part of the letter to showing up the evils of the military
system existing in the American army.

A soldier [he said] reasoned with upon the goodness of the cause
he is engaged in, and the inestimable rights he is contending
for, hears you with patience, and acknowledges the truth of your
observations, but adds that it is of no more importance to him
than to others. The officer makes you the same reply, with this
further remark, that his pay will not support him and he cannot
ruin himself and family to serve his country, when every member of
the community is equally interested, and benefited by his labors.
The few, therefore, who act upon principles of disinterestedness,
comparatively speaking, are no more than a drop in the ocean.

It becomes evident to me then, that, as this contest is not
likely to be the work of a day, as the war must be carried on
systematically, and to do it you must have good officers, there
are in my judgment no other possible means to obtain them but by
establishing your army upon a permanent footing and giving your
officers good pay. This will induce gentlemen and men of character
to engage; and, till the bulk of your officers is composed of such
persons as are actuated by principles of honor and a spirit of
enterprise, you have little to expect from them.

Washington proceeds to argue that the soldiers ought not to be engaged
for a shorter time than the duration of the war, that they ought to
have better pay and the offer of a hundred or a hundred and fifty
acres of land. Officers' pay should be increased in proportion. "Why
a captain in the Continental service should receive no more than five
shillings currency per day for performing the same duties that an
officer of the same rank in the British service receives ten shillings
for, I never could conceive." He further speaks strongly against the
employment of militia--"to place any dependence upon [it] is assuredly
resting upon a broken staff."

Washington wrote thus frankly to the Congress which seems to have read
his doleful reports without really being stimulated, as it ought to
have been, by a determination to remove their causes. Probably the
delegates came to regard the jeremiads as a matter of course and
assumed that Washington would pull through somehow. Very remarkable is
it that the Commander-in-Chief of any army in such a struggle should
have expressed himself as he did, bluntly, in regard to its glaring
imperfections. Doing this, however, he managed to hold the loyalty and
spirit of his men. In the American Civil War, McClellan contrived to
infatuate his troops with the belief that his plans were perfect, and
that only the annoying fact that the Confederate generals planned
better caused him to be defeated; and yet to his obsessed soldiers
defeat under McClellan was more glorious than victory under Lee or
Stonewall Jackson. I take it that Washington's frankness simply
reflected his passion for veracity, which was the cornerstone of his
character. The strangest fact of all was that it did not lessen his
popularity or discourage his troops.

To his intimates Washington wrote with even more unreserve. Thus he
says to Lund Washington (30th September):

In short, such is my situation that if I were to wish the
bitterest curse to an enemy on this side of the grave, I should
put him in my stead with my feelings; and yet I do not know what
plan of conduct to pursue. I see the impossibility of serving
with reputation, or doing any essential service to the cause by
continuing in command, and yet I am told that if I quit the
command, inevitable ruin will follow from the distraction that
will ensue. In confidence I tell you that I never was in such an
unhappy, divided state since I was born. To lose all comfort and
happiness on the one hand, whilst I am fully persuaded that under
such a system of management as has been adopted, I cannot have the
least chance for reputation, nor those allowances made which the
nature of the case requires; and to be told, on the other, that if
I leave the service all will be lost, is, at the same time that I
am bereft of every peaceful moment, distressing to a degree. But I
will be done with the subject, with the precaution to you that it
is not a fit one to be publicly known or discussed. If I fall,
it may not be amiss that these circumstances be known, and
declaration made in credit to the justice of my character. And
if the men will stand by me (which by the by I despair of), I am
resolved not to be forced from this ground while I have life;
and a few days will determine the point, if the enemy should not
change their place of operations; for they certainly will not--I
am sure they ought not--to waste the season that is now fast
advancing, and must be precious to them.

The British troops almost succeeded in surrounding Washington's force
north of Harlem. Washington retreated to White Plains, where, on
October 28th, the British, after a severe loss, took an outpost
and won what is called the "Battle of White Plains." Henceforward
Washington's movements resembled too painfully those of the proverbial
toad under the harrow; and yet in spite of Lord Howe's efforts to
crush him, he succeeded in escaping into New Jersey with a small
remnant--some six thousand men--of his original army. The year 1776
thus closed in disaster which seemed to be irremediable. It showed
that the British, having awakened to the magnitude of their task, were
able to cope with it. Having a comparatively unlimited sea-power, they
needed only to embark their regiments, with the necessary provisions
and ammunition, on their ships and send them across the Atlantic,
where they were more than a match for the nondescript, undisciplined,
ill-equipped, and often badly nourished Americans. The fact that
at the highest reckoning hardly a half of the American people were
actively in favor of Independence, is too often forgotten. But from
this fact there followed much lukewarmness and inertia in certain
sections. Many persons had too little imagination or were too sordidly
bound by their daily ties to care. As one planter put it: "My business
is to raise tobacco, the rest doesn't concern me."

Over the generally level plains of New Jersey, George Washington
pushed the remnant of the army that remained to him. He had now hardly
five thousand men, but they were the best, most seasoned, and in
many respects the hardiest fighters. In addition to the usual
responsibility of warfare, of feeding his troops, finding quarters
for them, and of directing the line of march, he had to cope with
wholesale desertions and to make desperate efforts to raise money and
to persuade some of those troops, whose term was expiring, to stay on.
His general plan now was to come near enough to the British centre and
to watch its movements. The British had fully twenty-five thousand men
who could be centred at a given point. This centre was now Trenton,
and the objective of the British was so plainly Philadelphia that the
Continental Congress, after voting to remain in permanence there, fled
as quietly as possible to Baltimore. On December 18th Washington wrote
from the camp near the Falls of Trenton to John Augustine Washington:

If every nerve is not strained to recruit the new army with all
possible expedition, I think the game is pretty near up, owing,
in great measure, to the insidious acts of the Enemy, and
disaffection of the Colonies before mentioned, but principally to
the accursed policy of short enlistments, and placing too great
a dependence on the militia, the evil consequences of which were
foretold fifteen months ago, with a spirit almost Prophetic. ...
You can form no idea of the perplexity of my situation. No man, I
believe, ever had a greater choice of difficulties, and less means
to extricate himself from them. However, under a full persuasion
of the justice of our cause, I cannot entertain an idea that it
will finally sink, though it may remain for some time under a
cloud.

Washington stood with his forlorn little array on the west bank of
the Delaware above Trenton. He had information that the British had
stretched their line very far and thin to the east of the town.
Separating his forces into three bodies, he commanded one of these
himself, and during the night of Christmas he crossed the river in
boats. The night was stormy and the crossing was much interrupted by
floating cakes of ice; in spite of which he landed his troops safely
on the eastern shore. They had to march nine miles before they reached
Trenton, taking Colonel Rall and his garrison of Hessians by surprise.
More than a thousand surrendered and were quickly carried back over
the river into captivity.

The prestige of the Battle of Trenton was enormous. For the first time
in six months Washington had beaten the superior forces of the British
and beaten them in a fortified town of their own choosing. The result
of the victory was not simply military; it quickly penetrated the
population of New Jersey which had been exasperatingly Loyalist, had
sold the British provisions, and abetted their intrigues. Now the New
Jersey people suddenly bethought them that they might have chosen the
wrong side after all. This feeling was deepened in them a week later
when, at Princeton, Washington suddenly fell upon and routed several
British regiments. By this success he cleared the upper parts of New
Jersey of British troops, who were shut once more within the limits of
New York City and Long Island.

In January, 1777, no man could say that the turning-point in the
American Revolution had been passed. There were still to come long
months, and years even, of doubt and disillusion and suffering; the
agony of Valley Forge; the ignominy of betrayal; and the slowly
gnawing pain of hope deferred. But the fact, if men could have but
seen it, was clear--Trenton and Princeton were prophetic of the
end. And what was even clearer was the supreme importance of George
Washington. Had he been cut off after Princeton or had he been forced
to retire through accident, the Revolution would have slackened, lost
head and direction, and spent itself among thinly parcelled rivulets
without strength to reach the sea. Washington was a Necessary Man.
Without him the struggle would not then have continued. Sooner
or later America would have broken free from England, but he was
indispensable to the liberty and independence of the Colonies then.
This thought brooded over him at all times, not to make him boastful
or imperious, but to impress him with a deeper awe, and to impress
also his men with the supreme importance of his life to them all. They
grew restive when, at Princeton, forgetful of self, he faced a volley
of muskets only thirty feet away. One of his officers wrote after the
Trenton campaign:

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 example, makes him fearless of danger. This
occasions us much uneasiness. But Heaven, which has hitherto been
his shield, I hope will still continue to guard so valuable a
life.

Robert Morris, who had already achieved a very important position
among the Patriots of New York, wrote to Washington:

Heaven, no doubt for the noblest purposes, has blessed you with
a firmness of mind, steadiness of countenance, and patience in
sufferings, that give you infinite advantages over other men. This
being the case, you are not to depend on other people's exertions
being equal to your own. One mind feeds and thrives on misfortunes
by finding resources to get the better of them; another sinks
under their weight, thinking it impossible to resist; and, as the
latter description probably includes the majority of mankind, we
must be cautious of alarming them.

Washington doubtless thanked Morris for his kind advice about issuing
reports which had some streaks of the rainbow and less truth in them.
He did not easily give up his preference for truth.

Common prudence [he said] dictates the necessity of duly attending
to the circumstances of both armies, before the style of
conquerors is assumed by either; and I am sorry to add, that this
does not appear to be the case with us; nor is it in my power to
make Congress fully sensible of the real situation of our affairs,
and that it is with difficulty (if I may use the expression) that
I can, by every means in my power, keep the life and soul of this
army together. In a word, when they are at a distance, they think
it is but to say, Presto begone, and everything is done. They
seem not to have any conception of the difficulty and perplexity
attending those who are to execute.

After the Battle of Princeton, Washington drew his men off to the
Heights of Morristown where he established his winter quarters. The
British had gone still farther toward New York City. Both sides seemed
content to enjoy a comparative truce until spring should come with
better weather; but true to his characteristic of being always
preparing something, Howe had several projects in view, any one of
which might lead to important activity. If ever a war was fought at
long range, that war was the American Revolution. Howe received his
orders from the War Office in London. Every move was laid down; no
allowance was made for the change which unforeseeable contingencies
might render necessary; the young Under-Secretaries who carefully
drew up the instructions in London knew little or nothing about the
American field of operations and simply relied upon the fact that
their callipers showed that it was so many miles between Point X and
Point Y and that the distance should ordinarily be covered in so many
hours.

With Washington himself the case was hardly better. There were few
motions that he could make of his own free will. He had to get
authority from the Continental Congress at Philadelphia. The Congress
was not made up of military experts and in many cases it knew nothing
about the questions he asked. The members of the Congress were
talkers, not doers, and they sometimes lost themselves in endless
debate and sometimes they seemed quite to forget the questions
Washington put to them. We find him writing in December to beg them to
reply to the urgent question which he had first asked in the preceding
October. He was scrupulous not to take any step which might seem
dictatorial. The Congress and the people of the country dreaded
military despotism. That dread made them prefer the evil system
of militia and the short-term enlistments to a properly organized
standing army. To their fearful imagination the standing army would
very quickly be followed by the man on horseback and by hopeless
despotism.

The Olympians in London who controlled the larger issues of war and
peace whispered to the young gentlemen in the War Office to draw up
plans for the invasion, during the summer of 1777, of the lower Hudson
by British troops from Canada. General Burgoyne should march down and
take Ticonderoga and then proceed to Albany. There he could meet a
smaller force under Colonel St. Leger coming from Oswego and following
the Mohawk River. A third army under Sir William Howe could ascend
the Hudson and meet Burgoyne and St. Leger at the general
rendezvous--Albany. It was a brave plan, and when Burgoyne started
with his force of eight thousand men high hopes flushed the British
hearts. These hopes seemed to be confirmed when a month later Burgoyne
took Ticonderoga. The Americans attributed great importance to this
place, an importance which might have been justified at an earlier
time, but which was now really passed, and it proved of little value
to Burgoyne. Pursuing his march southward, he found himself entangled
in the forest and he failed to meet boats which were to ferry him over
the streams.

The military operations during the summer and autumn of 1777 might
well cause the Americans to exult. The British plan of sending three
armies to clear out the forces which guarded or blocked the road from
Canada to the lower Hudson burst like a bubble. The chief contingent
of 8000 men, under General Burgoyne, seems to have strayed from its
route and to have been in need of food. Hearing that there were
supplies at Bennington, Burgoyne turned aside to that place. He
little suspected the mettle of John Stark and of his Green Mountain
volunteers. Their quality was well represented by Stark's address to
his men: "They are ours to-night, or Molly Stark is a widow." He did
not boast. By nightfall he had captured all of Burgoyne's men who were
alive (August 16, 1777).

Only one reverse marred the victories of the summer. This was at
Oriskany in August, 1777. An American force of 400 or 500 men fell
into an ambush, and its leader, General Herkimer, though mortally
wounded, refused to retire, but continued to give directions to the
end. Oriskany was reputed to be the most atrocious fight of the
Revolution. Joseph Brant, the Mohawk chief, led the Indians, who were
allies of the English.

In spite of this, Burgoyne seemed to lose resolution, uncertain
whither to turn. He instinctively groped for a way that would take him
down the Hudson and bring him to Albany, where he was to meet British
reenforcements. But he missed his bearings and found himself near
Saratoga. Here General Gates confronted him with an army larger than
his own in regulars. On October 7th they fought a battle, which the
British technically claimed as a victory, as they were not driven from
their position, but it left them virtually hemmed in without a line
of escape. Burgoyne waited several days irresolute. He hoped that
something favorable to him might turn up. He had a lurking hope that
General Clinton was near by, coming to his rescue. He wavered, gallant
though he was, and would not give the final order of desperation--to
cut their way through the enemy lines. Instead of that he sought a
truce with Gates, and signed the Convention of Saratoga (October
17th), by which he surrendered his army with the honors of war, and it
was stipulated that they should be sent to England by English ships
and paroled against taking any further part in the war.

The victory of Saratoga had much effect on America; it reverberated
through Europe. Only the peculiar nature of the fighting in America
prevented it from being decisive. Washington himself had never dared
to risk a battle which, if he were defeated in it, would render it
impossible for him to continue the war. The British, on the other
hand, spread over much ground, and the destruction of one of their
armies would not necessarily involve the loss of all. So it was
now; Burgoyne's surrender did little to relieve the pressure on
Washington's troops on the Hudson, but it had a vital effect across
the sea.

Since the first year of the war the Americans had hoped to secure a
formal alliance with France against England, and among the French who
favored this scheme there were several persons of importance. Reasons
were easily found to justify such an alliance. The Treaty of Paris in
1763 had dispossessed France of her colonies in America and had left
her inferior to England in other parts of the world. Here was her
chance to take revenge. The new King, Louis XVI, had for Foreign
Minister Count de Vergennes, a diplomat of some experience, who warmly
urged supporting the cause of the American Colonists. He had for
accomplice Beaumarchais, a nimble-witted playwright and seductive man
of the world who talked very persuasively to the young King and many
others.

The Americans on their side had not been inactive, and early in 1776
Silas Deane, a member of Congress from Connecticut, was sent over
to Paris with the mission to do his utmost to cement the friendship
between the American Colonies and France. Deane worked to such good
purpose that by October, 1776, he had sent clothing for twenty
thousand men, muskets for thirty thousand and large quantities of
ammunition. A fictitious French house, which went by the name of
Hortalaz et Cie, acted as agent and carried on the necessary business
from Paris. By this time military adventurers in large numbers began
to flock to America to offer their swords to the rebellious Colonials.
Among them were a few--de Kalb, Pulaski, Steuben, and Kosciuszko--who
did good service for the struggling young rebels, but most of them
were worthless adventurers and marplots.

Almost any American in Paris felt himself authorized to give a letter
of introduction to any Frenchman or other European who wished to try
his fortunes in America. One of the notorious cases was that of a
French officer named Ducoudray, who brought a letter from Deane
purporting to be an agreement that Ducoudray should command the
artillery of the Continental army with the rank and pay of a
major-general. Washington would take no responsibility for this
appointment, which would have displaced General Knox, a hardy veteran,
an indefectible patriot, and Washington's trusted friend. When
the matter was taken up by the Congress, the demand was quickly
disallowed. The absurdity of allowing Silas Deane or any other
American in Paris, no matter how meritorious his own services might
be, to assign to foreigners commissions of high rank in the American
army was too obvious to be debated.

To illustrate the character of Washington's miscellaneous labors in
addition to his usual household care of the force under him, I borrow
a few items from his correspondence. I borrow at random, the time
being October, 1777, when the Commander-in-Chief is moving from place
to place in northern New Jersey, watching the enemy and avoiding an
engagement. A letter comes from Richard Henry Lee, evidently intended
to sound Washington, in regard to the appointment of General Conway to
a high command in the American army. Washington replies with corroding
veracity.

[Matuchin Hill, 17 October, 1777.] If there is any truth in
the report that Congress hath appointed ... Brigadier Conway a
Major-general in this army, it will be as unfortunate a measure as
ever was adopted. I may add, (and I think with truth) that it
will give a fatal blow to the existence of the army. Upon so
interesting a subject, I must speak plain. The duty I owe my
country, the ardent desire I have to promote its true interests,
and justice to individuals, requires this of me. General Conway's
merit, then, as an officer, and his importance in this army,
exists more in his imagination, than in reality. For it is a maxim
with him, to leave no service of his own untold, nor to want
anything, which is to be obtained by importunity.

It does not appear that Lee fished for letters of introduction for
himself or any of his friends after this experiment. He needed no
further proof that George Washington had the art of sending _complete_
answers.

On October 25, 1777, desertions being frequent among the officers and
men, Washington issued this circular to Pulaski and Colonels of Horse:

I am sorry to find that the liberty I granted to the light
dragoons of impressing horses near the enemy's line has been most
horribly abused and perverted into a mere plundering scheme.
I intended nothing more than that the horses belonging to the
disaffected in the neighborhood of the British Army, should be
taken for the use of the dismounted dragoons, and expected, that
they would be regularly reported to the Quartermaster General,
that an account might be kept of the number and the persons from
whom they were taken, in order to a future settlement.--Instead of
this, I am informed that under pretence of the authority derived
from me, they go about the country plundering whomsoever they are
pleased to denominate tories, and converting what they get to
their own private profit and emolument. This is an abuse that
cannot be tolerated; and as I find the license allowed them, has
been made a sanction for such mischievous practices, I am under
the necessity of recalling it altogether. You will therefore
immediately make it known to your whole corps, that they are not
under any pretence whatever to meddle with the horses or other
property of any inhabitant whatever on pain of the severest
punishment, for they may be assured as far as it depends upon me
that military execution will attend all those who are caught in
the like practice hereafter.

One finds nothing ambiguous in this order to Pulaski and the Colonels
of Horse. A more timid commander would have hesitated to speak so
curtly at a time when the officers and men of his army were deserting
at will; but to Washington discipline was discipline, and he would
maintain it, cost what it might, so long as he had ten men ready to
obey him.

Passing over three weeks we find Washington writing from Headquarters
on November 14th to Sir William Howe, the British Commander-in-Chief,
in regard to the maltreatment of prisoners and to proposals of
exchanging officers on parole.

I must also remonstrate against the maltreatment and confinement
of our officers--this, I am informed, is not only the case of
those in Philadelphia, but of many in New York. Whatever plausible
pretences may be urged to authorize the condition of the former,
it is certain but few circumstances can arise to justify that of
the latter. I appeal to you to redress these several wrongs; and
you will remember, whatever hardships the prisoners with us may be
subjected to will be chargeable on you. At the same time it is but
justice to observe, that many of the cruelties exercised towards
prisoners are said to proceed from the inhumanity of Mr.
Cunningham, provost-martial, without your knowledge or
approbation.

The letter was sufficiently direct for Sir William to understand it.
If these extracts were multiplied by ten they would represent more
nearly the mass of questions which came daily to Washington for
decision. The decision had usually to be made in haste and always
with the understanding that it would not only settle the question
immediately involved, but it would serve as precedent.

The victory of Saratoga gave a great impetus to the party in France
which wished Louis XVI to come out boldly on the side of the Americans
in their war with the British. The King was persuaded. Vergennes also
secured the cooeperation of Spain with France, for Spain had views
against England, and she agreed that if a readjustment of sovereignty
were coming in America, it would be prudent for her to be on hand to
press her own claims. On February 6, 1778, the treaty between France
and America was signed.[1] Long before this, however, a young French
enthusiast who proved to be the most conspicuous of all the foreign
volunteers, the Marquis de Lafayette, had come over with magnificent
promises from Silas Deane. On being told, however, that the Congress
found it impossible to ratify Deane's promises, he modestly requested
to enlist in the army without pay. Washington at once took a fancy to
him and insisted on his being a member of the Commander's family.

While Burgoyne's surrendered army was marching to Boston and
Cambridge, to be shut up as prisoners, Washington was taking into
consideration the best place in which to pass the winter. Several were
suggested, Wilmington, Delaware, and Valley Forge--about twenty-five
miles from Philadelphia--being especially urged upon him. Washington
preferred the latter, chiefly because it was near enough to
Philadelphia to enable him to keep watch on the movements of the
British troops in that city. Valley Forge! One of the names in human
history associated with the maximum of suffering and distress, with
magnificent patience, sacrifice, and glory.

The surrounding hills were covered with woods and presented an
inhospitable appearance. The choice was severely criticised, and
de Kalb described it as a wilderness. But the position was central
and easily defended. The army arrived there about the middle of
December, and the erection of huts began. They were built of logs
and were 14 by 15 feet each. The windows were covered with oiled
paper, and the openings between the logs were closed with clay.
The huts were arranged in streets, giving the place the appearance
of a city. It was the first of the year, however, before they
were occupied, and previous to that the suffering of the army had
become great. Although the weather was intensely cold, the men
were obliged to work at the buildings, with nothing to support
life but flour unmixed with water, which they baked into cakes at
the open fires ... the horses died of starvation by hundreds, and
the men were obliged to haul their own provisions and firewood. As
straw could not be found to protect the men from the cold ground,
sickness spread through their quarters with fearful rapidity. "The
unfortunate soldiers," wrote Lafayette in after years, "they were
in want of everything; they had neither coats, hats, shirts nor
shoes; their feet and their legs froze till they became black, and
it was often necessary to amputate them." ... The army frequently
remained whole days without provisions, and the patient endurance
of the soldiers and officers was a miracle which each moment
served to renew ... while the country around Valley Forge was so
impoverished by the military operations of the previous summer as
to make it impossible for it to support the army. The sufferings
of the latter were chiefly owing to the inefficiency of
Congress.

No one felt more keenly than did Washington the horrors, of Valley
Forge. He had not believed in forming such an encampment, and from the
start he denounced the neglect and incompetence of the commissions.
In a letter to the President of the Congress on December 3, 1777, he
wrote:

Since the month of July we have had no assistance from the
quartermaster-general, and to want of assistance from this
department the commissary-general charges great part of his
deficiency. To this I am to add, that, notwithstanding it is a
standing order, and often repeated that the troops shall always
have two days' provisions by them, that they might be ready at
any sudden call; yet an opportunity has scarcely ever offered of
taking an advantage of the enemy, that has not either been totally
obstructed or greatly impeded, on this account. And this, the
great and crying evil, is not all. The soap, vinegar, and other
articles allowed by Congress, we see none of, nor have we seen
them, I believe, since the Battle of Brandywine. The first,
indeed, we have now little occasion for; few men having more than
one shirt, many only the moiety of one, and some none at all. In
addition to which, as a proof of the little benefit received from
a clothier-general, and as a further proof of the inability of
an army, under the circumstances of this, to perform the common
duties of soldiers, (besides a number of men confined to hospitals
for want of shoes, and others in farmers' houses on the same
account,) we have, by a field-return this day made, no less than
two thousand eight hundred and ninety-eight men now in camp unfit
for duty, because they are barefoot and otherwise naked. By the
same return it appears, that our whole strength in Continental
troops, including the eastern brigades, which have joined us since
the surrender of General Burgoyne, exclusive of the Maryland
troops sent to Wilmington, amounts to no more than eight thousand
two hundred in camp fit for duty; notwithstanding which, and that
since the 4th instant our numbers fit for duty, from the hardships
and exposures they have undergone, particularly on account of
blankets (numbers having been obliged, and still are, to sit
up all night by fires, instead of taking comfortable rest in a
natural and common way), have decreased near two thousand men.

We find gentlemen, without knowing whether the army was really
going into winter-quarters or not (for I am sure no resolution of
mine would warrant the Remonstrance), reprobating the measure as
much as if they thought the soldiers were made of stocks or stones
and equally insensible of frost and snow; and moreover, as if they
conceived it easily practicable for an inferior army, under the
disadvantages I have described ours to be, which are by no
means exaggerated, to confine a superior one, in all respects
well-appointed and provided for a winter's campaign within the
city of Philadelphia, and to cover from depredation and waste the
States of Pennsylvania and Jersey. But what makes this matter
still more extraordinary in my eye is, that these very
gentlemen,--who were well apprized of the nakedness of the troops
from ocular demonstration, who thought their own soldiers worse
clad than others, and who advised me near a month ago to postpone
the execution of a plan I was about to adopt, in consequence of a
resolve of Congress for seizing clothes, under strong assurances
that an ample supply would be collected in ten days agreeably to a
decree of the State (not one article of which, by the by, is yet
come to hand)--should think a winter's campaign, and the covering
of these States from the invasion of an enemy, so easy and
practicable a business. I can assure those gentlemen, that it is a
much easier and less distressing thing to draw remonstrances in a
comfortable room by a good fireside, 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
and distressed soldiers, I feel superabundantly for them, and,
from my soul, I pity those miseries, which it is neither in my
power to relieve or prevent.

It is for these reasons, therefore, that I have dwelt upon the
subject, and it adds not a little to my other difficulties and
distress to find, that much more is expected of me than is
possible to be performed, and that upon the ground of safety and
policy I am obliged to conceal the true state of the army
from public view, and thereby expose myself to detraction and
calumny.

Mrs. Washington, as was her custom throughout the war, spent part of
the winter with the General. Her brief allusions to Valley Forge would
hardly lead the reader to infer the horrors that nearly ten thousand
American soldiers were suffering.

"Your Mamma has not yet arrived," Washington writes to Jack
Custis, "but ...expected every hour. [My aide] Meade set off
yesterday (as soon as I got notice of her intention) to meet her.
We are in a dreary kind of place, and uncomfortably provided." And
of this reunion Mrs. Washington wrote: "I came to this place, some
time about the first of February when I found the General very
well, ... in camp in what is called the great valley on the Banks
of the Schuylkill. Officers and men are chiefly in Hutts, which
they say is tolerably comfortable; the army are as healthy as
can be well expected in general. The General's apartment is very
small; he has had a log cabin built to dine in, which has made our
quarters much more tolerable than they were at first."

While the Americans languished and died at Valley Forge during the
winter months, Sir William Howe and his troops lived in Philadelphia
not only in great comfort, but in actual luxury. British gold paid out
in cash to the dealers in provisions bought full supplies from one of
the best markets in America. And the people of the place, largely made
up of Loyalists, vied with each other in providing entertainment for
the British army. There were fashionable balls for the officers and
free-and-easy revels for the soldiers. Almost at any time the British
army might have marched out to Valley Forge and dealt a final blow to
Washington's naked and starving troops, but it preferred the good food
and the dissipations of Philadelphia; and so the winter dragged on to
spring.

Howe was recalled to England and General Sir Henry Clinton succeeded
him in the command of the British forces. He was one of those
well-upholstered carpet knights who flourished in the British army at
that time, and was even less energetic than Howe. We must remember,
however, that the English officers who came over to fight in America
had had their earlier training in Europe, where conditions were quite
different from those here. Especially was this true of the terrain.
Occasionally a born fighter like Wolfe did his work in a day, but this
was different from spending weeks and months in battleless campaigns.
The Philadelphians arranged a farewell celebration for General Howe
which they called the _Meschianza_, an elaborate pageant, said to be
the most beautiful ever seen in America, after which General Howe and
General Clinton had orders to take their army back to New York. As
much as could be shipped on boats went that way, but the loads that
had to be carried in wagons formed a cavalcade twelve miles long, and
with the attending regiment advanced barely more than two and a half
miles a day. Washington, whose troops entered Philadelphia as soon as
the British marched out, hung on the retreating column and at Monmouth
engaged in a pitched battle, which was on the point of being a
decisive victory for the Americans when, through the blunder
of General Lee, it collapsed. The blunder seemed too obviously
intentional, but Washington appeared in the midst of the melee and
urged on the men to retrieve their defeat. This was the battle of
which one of the soldiers said afterwards, "At Monmouth the General
swore like an angel from Heaven." He prevented disaster, but that
could not reconcile him to the loss of the victory which had been
almost within his grasp. Those who witnessed it never forgot
Washington's rage when he met Lee and asked him what he meant and then
ordered him to the rear. Washington prepared to renew the battle on
the following day, but during the night Clinton withdrew his army, and
by daylight was far on his way to the seacoast.

Washington followed up the coast and took up his quarters at White
Plains.

BOSTON FREED

Thus began what seems to us now an impossible war. Although it had
been brooding for ten years, since the Stamp Act, which showed that
the ties of blood and of tradition meant nothing to the British
Tories, now that it had come, the Colonists may well have asked
themselves what it meant. Probably, if the Colonists had taken a poll
on that fine July morning in 1775, not one in five of them would have
admitted that he was going to war to secure Independence, but all
would have protested that they would die if need be to recover their
freedom, the old British freedom, which came down to them from
Runnymede and should not be wrested from them.

A British Tory, at the same time, might have replied: "We fight, we
cannot do less, in order to discipline and punish these wretches who
assume to deny the jurisdiction of the British Crown and to rebel
against the authority of the British Parliament." A few years before,
an English general had boasted that with an army of five thousand
troops he would undertake a march from Canada, through the Colonies,
straight to the Gulf of Mexico. And Colonel George Washington, who had
seen something of the quality of the British regulars, remarked that
with a thousand seasoned Virginians he would engage to block the five
thousand wherever he met them. The test was now to be made.

The first thing that strikes us is the great extent of the field of
war. From the farthest settlements in the northeast, in what is now
Maine, to the border villages in Georgia was about fifteen hundred
miles; but mere distance did not represent the difficulty of the
journey. Between Boston and Baltimore ran a carriage road, not always
kept in good repair. Most of the other stretches had to be traversed
on horseback. The country along the seaboard was generally well
supplied with food, but the supply was nowhere near large enough to
furnish regular permanent subsistence for an army. A lack of munitions
seriously threatened the Colonists' ability to fight at all, but the
discovery of lead in Virginia made good this deficiency until the year
1781, when the lead mine was exhausted.

More important than material concerns, however, was the diversity
in origin and customs among the Colonists themselves. The total
population numbered in 1775 nearly two and one half million souls. Of
these, the slaves formed about 500,000. The three largest Colonies,
Virginia, Massachusetts, and Pennsylvania contained 900,000
inhabitants, of which a little more than one half were slaves.
Pennsylvania, the third Colony, had a total of 300,000, mostly white,
while South Carolina had 200,000, of whom only 65,000 were white.
Connecticut, on the other hand, had 200,000 with scarcely any blacks.
The result was a very mottled population. The New Englanders had
already begun to practise manufacturing, and they continued to raise
under normal conditions sufficient food for their subsistence. South
of the Mason and Dixon line, however, slave labor prevailed and the
three great staples--tobacco, indigo, and rice--were the principal
crops. Where these did not grow, the natives got along as best they
could on scanty common crops, and by raising a few sheep and hogs. As
the war proceeded, it taught with more and more force the inherent
wastefulness of slave labor in the South. It was inefficient, costly,
and unreliable.

The Battle of Bunker Hill was at once hailed as a Patriot victory,
but the rejoicing was premature, for the Americans had been forced
to retreat, giving up the position they had bravely defended.
Nevertheless, the opinion prevailed that they had won a real victory
by withstanding through many hours of a bloody fight some of the best
of the British regiments.

Washington took command of the American army at Cambridge, he was
faced with the great task of organizing it and of forming a plan
of campaign. The Congress had taken over the charge of the army at
Boston, and the events had so shaped themselves that the first
thing for Washington to do was to drive out the British troops. To
accomplish this he planned to seal up all the entrances into the town
by land so that food could not be smuggled in. The British had a
considerable fleet in Boston Harbor, and they had to rely upon it to
bring provisions and to keep in touch with the world outside.

Washington had his headquarters at the Craigie House in Cambridge,
some half a mile from Harvard Square and the College. He was now
forty-three years old, a man of commanding presence, six feet three
inches tall, broad-shouldered but slender, without any signs of the
stoutness of middle age. His hands and feet were large. His head was
somewhat small. The blue-gray eyes, set rather far apart, looked out
from heavy eyebrows with an expression of attentiveness. The most
marked feature was the nose, which was fairly large and straight and
vigorous. The mouth shut firmly, as it usually does where decision
is the dominant trait. The lips were flat. His color was pale but
healthy, and rarely flushed, even under great provocation.

All that had gone before seemed to be strangely blended in his
appearance. The surveyor lad; the Indian fighter and officer; the
planter; the foxhunter; the Burgess; you could detect them all. But
underlying them all was the permanent Washington, deferent, plain of
speech, direct, yet slow in forming or expressing an opinion. Most
men, after they had been with him awhile, felt a sense of his majesty
grow upon them, a sense that he was made of common flesh like them,
but of something uncommon besides, something very high and very
precious.

Washington found that he had sixteen thousand troops under his
command near Boston. Of these two thirds came from Massachusetts, and
Connecticut halved the rest. During July Congress added three thousand
men from Pennsylvania, Maryland, and Virginia. They lacked everything.
In order to give them some uniformity in dress, Washington suggested
hunting-shirts, which he said "would have a happier tendency to unite
the men and abolish those Provincial Distinctions which lead to
jealousy and dissatisfaction." Among higher officers, jealousy, which
they made no attempt to dissemble or to disguise, was common. Two of
the highest posts went to Englishmen who proved themselves not only
technically unfit, but suspiciously near disloyalty. One of these
was Charles Lee, who thought the major-generalship to which Congress
appointed him beneath his notice; the other was also an Englishman,
Horatio Gates, Adjutant-General. A third, Thomas, when about to retire
in pique, received from Washington the following rebuke:

In the usual contests of empire and ambition, the conscience of a
soldier has so little share, that he may very properly insist
upon his claims of rank, and extend his pretensions even to
punctilio;--but in such a cause as this, when the object is
neither glory nor extent of territory, but a defense of all that
is dear and valuable in private and public life, surely every
post ought to be deemed honorable in which a man can serve his
country.

Besides the complaints which reached Washington from all sides, he had
also to listen to the advice of military amateurs. Some of these had
never been in a battle and knew nothing about warfare except from
reading, but they were not on this account the most taciturn. Many
urged strongly that an expedition be sent against Canada, a design
which Washington opposed. His wisdom was justified when Richard
Montgomery, with about fifteen hundred men, took Montreal--November
12, 1775--and after waiting several weeks formed a junction with
Benedict Arnold near Quebec, which they attacked in a blinding
snowstorm, December 31, 1775. Arnold had marched up the Kennebec River
and through the Maine wilderness with fifteen hundred men, which were
reduced to five hundred before they came into action with Montgomery's
much dwindled force. The commander of Quebec repulsed them and sent
them flying southward as fast as the rigors of the winter and the
difficulties of the wilderness permitted.

By the end of July, meanwhile, Washington had brought something like
order into the undisciplined and untrained masses who formed his
army, but now another lack threatened him: a lack of gunpowder. The
cartridge boxes of his soldiers contained on an average only nine
charges of ball and gunpowder apiece, hardly enough to engage in
battle for more than ten minutes. Washington sent an urgent appeal
to every town, and hearing that a ship at Bermuda had a cargo of
gunpowder, American ships were despatched thither to secure it. In
such straits did the army of the United Colonies go forth to war. By
avoiding battles and other causes for using munitions, they not only
kept their original supply, but added to it as fast as their appeals
were listened to. Washington kept his lines around Boston firm. In the
autumn General Gage was replaced, as British Commander-in-Chief, by
Sir William Howe, whose brother Richard, Lord Howe, became Admiral of
the Fleet. But the Howes knew no way to break the strangle hold of the
Americans. How Washington contrived to create the impression that
he was master of the situation is one of the mysteries of his
campaigning, because, although he had succeeded in making soldiers of
the raw recruits and in enforcing subordination, they were still a
very skittish body. They enlisted for short terms of service, and even
before their term was completed, they began to hanker to go home. This
caused not only inconvenience, but real difficulty. Still, Washington
steadily pushed on, and in March, 1776, by a brilliant manoeuvre at
Dorchester Heights, he secured a position from which his cannons could
bombard every British ship in Boston Harbor. On the 17th of March all
those ships, together with the garrison of eight thousand, and with
two thousand fugitive Loyalists, sailed off to Halifax. Boston has
been free from foreign enemies from that day to this.