"Until Congress orders otherwise, General Washington shall be possessed of all power to order and direct all things relative to the department and to the operations of war."

In the days of ancient Rome, such power would have constituted him a military dictator. It was conferred in answer to a remarkable communication from Washington himself, one of the most able, practical, and faithful public documents extant, in which he said:

"It may be thought that I am going a good deal out of the line of my duty to adopt these measures or advise thus freely. A character to lose, an estate to forfeit, the inestimable blessings of liberty at stake, and a life devoted, must be my excuse."

Washington immediately recruited three battalions of artillery. He promised those whose time of enlistment had expired an increase of twenty-five per cent to their pay if they would remain, and ten dollars bounty for six weeks' service. "It is no time to stand upon expense," he said.

On the 20th of December, General Sullivan arrived with Lee's army. The men were in a bad plight, many of them sick and exhausted, others ragged and desponding. On the same day, also, General Gates arrived with the remnants of four regiments from the Northern army.

"Now is our time to strike a blow that shall put heart into the friends of our cause," said Washington to General Greene.

"I am at your service in any enterprise that will do that," answered Greene. "Explain."

"I propose an immediate attack upon the enemy," said Washington.

"Well, there is no cowardice in that proposition," remarked Greene. "To recross the Delaware that is filled with ice, and attack the enemy in his own camp, this wintry weather, is worthy of the commander-in-chief of the American army."

"Howe has gone into winter quarters in New York," continued Washington. "His troops are scattered about loosely, because he thinks the rebel army is powerless. Cornwallis has left our front, and returned to New York. The Hessians are stationed along the Delaware, facing us, and are thinking more of a good time, probably, in this Christmas season, than they are of us. It is a good time to surprise them."

"Perhaps so," answered Greene. "How about crossing the river with so much floating ice in it?"

"That is not an insuperable barrier," replied Washington. "Besides, if we wait until the river is frozen over, the enemy will surprise us."

"You are resolved to attack them?" added Greene.

"Yes, on the 25th, which is close by."

General Greene and the other officers entered into the plan with all their hearts, as soon as they fully comprehended it. The night of the 25th was the earliest moment the army could move. The intervening time would be required for preparation.

"A good chance to avenge the loss of Fort Washington, and the wrongs inflicted upon the people of Jersey by the Hessians," remarked General Greene to his command. The Hessians had been reckless and destructive in their march through the Jerseys.

"Miserable hirelings, these Hessians!" exclaimed Major Wilkinson, by way of stirring up the soldiers to crave an attack upon them. "Such wretches, fighting us for mere pay, without caring whether liberty or slavery reigns, deserve to be shot."

The night of the 25th was a boisterous one. A storm was coming on, and the Delaware rolled tempestuously. But, undismayed, Washington ordered the army to move at dark. He crossed the Delaware nine miles above Trenton, where there were fifteen hundred Hessians and a troop of British light-horse, to march down upon the town. General Ewing, with his force, was to have crossed a mile below the town, but was prevented by the quantity of ice. General Putnam, with the troops occupied in fortifying Philadelphia, crossed below Burlington.

When Washington was ready to march, after crossing the river, a furious storm of snow and sleet began to beat in the faces of the troops, to impede their progress. It was eight o'clock before the head of the column reached the village. Seeing a man chopping wood, Washington inquired:

"Which way is the Hessian picket?"

"I don't know," the man replied.

"You may tell," said Captain Forest of the artillery, "for that is General Washington."

The man changed his aspect instantly. Raising both hands heavenward, he exclaimed:

"God bless and prosper you!"

Then pointing to a house, he said:

"The picket is in that house, and the sentry stands near that tree."

Rising in his stirrups, and waving his sword in the air, Washington addressed his troops: "There, boys, are the enemies of your country! All I ask of you is to remember what you are about to fight for! March!"

Soon the battle began. It was a complete surprise to the foe. They rallied at first, and undertook to make a stand, but were unable to breast the storm of shot that beat into their very faces. The British light-horse fled from the town, together with other troops, none of which could have escaped if General Ewing and General Cadwalader had been able to cross the river, and cooperate with Washington, according to his plan. They were to guard the only way of retreat open to the enemy.

The battle was short and decisive. Many Hessians were killed, and their brave commander, Colonel Rahl, fell mortally wounded. He was conveyed carefully to the house of a Quaker lady, where General Washington paid him a visit before leaving town.

"The misfortunes of war are to be deplored," remarked Washington, taking the dying man by the hand, and expressing his sympathy for him.

"Death is preferable to life with this dishonor," answered Rahl.

Washington spoke in praise of the bravery of his men, to which Rahl replied, though he was really suffering the agony of death:

"I entreat you, General Washington, not to take anything from my men but their arms."

"I will not," answered Washington; and he kept the promise.

Washington took about a thousand prisoners in this battle, including thirty-two officers. His seizure of artillery and stores, also, was quite large. With prisoners and stores he recrossed the Delaware to his camp.

The fame of this brilliant exploit spread from town to town, reviving the despondent hopes of the many in sympathy with the American cause.

Despatches from Cadwalader and Reed assured Washington that the British army, fleeing from Trenton, had spread consternation everywhere among the enemy. Trenton, Bordentown, and other places were deserted by the foe, who, panic-stricken by the victory of Washington, fled in confusion.

Washington saw that now was his time to drive the British from the Jerseys. He sent to Generals McDougall and Maxwell at Morristown, ordering them to collect as large a force of militia as possible, and harass the retreating enemy in the rear. He wrote to General Heath, also, to come down at once from the Highlands, with the eastern militia; and he despatched gentlemen of influence in different directions, to arouse the militia to revenge the wrongs inflicted upon the people by the Hessians. He said:

"If what they have suffered does not rouse their resentment, they must not possess the feelings of humanity."

On the 29th of December, Washington crossed the Delaware again with a portion of his troops, though two days were consumed in the passage of all of them, on account of the ice and boisterous weather. A portion of his troops were expecting to go home at the end of the month, as the term of their enlistment expired; but Washington drew them up in line, and addressed them, appealing to their patriotism, inviting them to re-enlist, and offering them ten dollars bounty for six weeks' service. Most of them remained.

Taking advantage of the power vested in him, the commander-in-chief wrote to Robert Morris, "the patriot financier at Philadelphia," pleading for hard money to meet the emergency.

"If you could possibly collect a sum, if it were but one hundred or one hundred and fifty pounds, it would be of service."

Scarce as hard money was, Morris obtained the amount of a wealthy Quaker, and forwarded it to Washington by express the next morning.

After the victory at Trenton, Congress, in session at Baltimore, took additional action to invest Washington with all necessary powers; and that body said, in their communication to him:

"Happy is it for this country that the general of their forces can safely be entrusted with the most unlimited power, and neither personal security, liberty, or property, be in the least degree endangered thereby."

As soon as the news of the capture of the Hessians at Trenton reached New York, General Howe hurried Cornwallis off to Princeton, where about eight thousand of his army were wintering, with instructions to attack Washington. On the second day of January, 1777, the latter posted his troops on the east side of a small stream, the Assumpink, learning that Cornwallis was marching upon him. About mid-day Cornwallis approached with five or six thousand troops, and attempted to cross the river; but the Americans repulsed him. The engagement continued until dark, when Cornwallis proposed to cease hostilities and rest until morning.

"Nay," said Sir William Erskine; "now is your time to make sure of Washington."

"Oh, no!" replied Cornwallis; "our troops are fatigued and need rest. The old fox can't make his escape now; for, with the Delaware behind him, so filled with floating ice that he cannot cross, we have him completely surrounded. To-morrow morning, fresh and strong, we will fall upon him, and take him and his rag-a-muffins all at once!"

"Ah, my lord!" rejoined Sir William, "if Washington be the soldier that I think he is, you will not see him there to-morrow morning."

The escape of the American army seemed impossible. With a superior force of the British in front, well armed and fresh, and the impossibility of recrossing the Delaware, together with deep mud in the roads, the capture of Washington, to human view, seemed inevitable.

Early in the evening Washington conceived the idea of making a forced march to Princeton during the night, to capture the enemy's stores there, and then push on to Brunswick for additional booty. But then the mud was so deep that such a march would not be possible. While he was thus revolving the matter, the wind suddenly shifted, the clouds broke, and freezing cold weather set in, so that within two hours the ground became solid, and the army could move. Again God proved to the astonished commander-in-chief that He was not always "on the side of the heaviest battalions."

Stirring up his camp-fire anew, and setting a score of shovellers to work within hearing distance of the foe, to deceive him, Washington moved off as quietly as possible to Princeton with his army. There he met a force Cornwallis had left behind, and a desperate battle followed, in which the Americans were victorious.

At first Colonel Mawhood's celebrated regiment charged upon the advance of the American army, driving them back in confusion. But Washington, ever ready for such an emergency, rode to the front, brandishing his sword, and calling upon his men to follow. Placing himself in front, directly facing the foe, he stopped for a moment, as if to say to his army, "Will you suffer the enemy to shoot your general?" They could not resist the appeal, and with a yell they turned and dashed forward, with irresistible might, driving all before them, and the victory was theirs.

Colonel Fitzgerald, one of Washington's aides, was so affected by his commander's daring, that he dropped the reins on his horse's neck and drew his cap over his eyes, that he might not see him shot from his horse. While waiting in this agony of suspense, a shout of triumph rent the air.

"The British are running!"

"The victory is ours!"

The air was rent with the shouts of the victors.

Lifting his cap, and looking for his loved commander, he beheld him, as the smoke of the battle cleared, safe and unharmed, waving his hat and cheering his soldiers on to pursue the foe. Bursting into tears for very joy, he spurred his horse to Washington's side, and exclaimed:

"Thank God, your excellency is safe!"

Grasping the colonel's hand in gladness, Washington answered:

"Away, my dear colonel, and bring up the troops. THE DAY IS OUR OWN!"

When Cornwallis awoke in the early dawn, he found that his "fox" had escaped.

"That is just what I feared," said Sir William Erskine.

"Where can he have gone?" Cornwallis inquired, almost bewildered by the unexpected revelation.

Just then booming cannon in the distance explained.

"There!" exclaimed Sir William; "There is Washington now, cutting up our troops!"

"Capturing our stores at Brunswick!" shouted Cornwallis in reply, as he took in the situation, and thought what a haul the rebel general would make in capturing the seventy thousand pounds in money, and the vast quantity of arms, ammunition, and stores at Brunswick.

Almost franticly he dashed about to hurry his Army away to the latter place, where he arrived to find everything safe, and himself outwitted again.

The battle of Princeton, though short, was a costly one to the Americans. One general, two colonels, one major, and three captains were killed. From twenty to thirty others were killed and wounded. The British lost one hundred killed and wounded, and three hundred prisoners.

The American general slain was Mercer, whom Washington called "the worthy and brave General Mercer." Early in the conflict his horse was shot under him, and on foot he was attempting to rally his men, when a blow from the butt of a British musket felled him to the ground.

"Call for quarters, you mean rebel!" shouted a British officer.

"I am not a rebel," retorted Mercer; "I am a true soldier of liberty, fighting for his country;" and, as he spoke he thrust his sword at the nearest man.

Then he was bayoneted, and left for dead. He was subsequently borne to the house of a Mr. Clark, where he was nursed until he died, a few days thereafter. Washington supposed that he was killed on the field, until he was on his way to Morristown. On learning that he was still alive, he despatched Major George Lewis with a flag and letter to Cornwallis, requesting that the bearer be allowed to remain with, and nurse, the wounded general. A few days afterwards, Mercer died in the arms of Lewis.

The story spread in the American army that the British bayoneted General Mercer after he gave up his sword. But he said to Major Lewis, who inquired about it: "The tale which you have heard, George, is untrue. My death is owing to myself. I was on foot endeavoring to rally my men, who had given way before the superior discipline of the enemy, when I was brought to the ground by a blow from a musket. At the same moment the enemy discovered my rank, exulted in their having taken the rebel general, as they termed me, and bid me ask for quarters. I felt that I deserved not so opprobrious an epithet, and determined to die, as I had lived, an honored soldier in a just and righteous cause; and without begging my life or making reply, I lunged with my sword at the nearest man. They then bayoneted and left me."

Washington did not pursue the enemy far, nor push on to Brunswick. Most of his troops had been two days and nights without sleep, and they were completely exhausted, so that further engagements without rest were preposterous. He determined to go into winter quarters at Morristown, and marched directly to that place. Stopping at Pluckamin to rest his soldiers for a short time, he wrote to General Putnam:

"The enemy appear to be panic-struck. I am in hopes of driving them out of the Jerseys. Keep a strict watch upon the enemy. A number of horsemen, in the dress of the country, must be kept constantly going backward and forward for this purpose."

Occupying the mountainous region of Morristown, and reinforcing his little army, he harassed the enemy to such an extent that Cornwallis was forced to draw in all his out-posts, so that his land communication with New York was completely cut off.

Hamilton wrote: "The extraordinary spectacle was presented of a powerful army, straitened within narrow limits by the phantom of a military force, and never permitted to transgress those limits with impunity."

The British were driven out of the Jerseys at every point except Amboy and Brunswick, and the remarkable exploit awakened the wonder, and admiration of even our enemies. Everywhere that the achievements of Washington, from Dec. 25, 1776, to Jan. 3, 1777, were made known, his fame was greatly augmented. No such bold and glorious deeds could be found in the annals of military renown. This was the verdict of the country; and from that moment the American cause grew stronger.

From that day to this the battles of Trenton and Princeton, including the crossing and recrossing of the Delaware, have been accorded the brightest pages of history by writers of every age. It is said that Frederick the Great of Prussia declared that the deeds of Washington, in the ten days specified, "were the most brilliant of any in the annals of military achievements."

The Italian historian, Botta, wrote:

"Achievements so stirring gained for the American commander a very great reputation, and were regarded with wonder by all nations, as well as by the Americans. The prudence, constancy, and noble intrepidity of Washington were admired and applauded by all. By unanimous consent, he was declared to be 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; he was celebrated by the pens of the most distinguished writers. The most illustrious personages of Europe lavished upon him their praises and their congratulations."

Washington continued in his winter quarters at Morristown until near the close of May. Learning that a British fleet of a hundred transports, bearing eighteen thousand soldiers, had sailed from New York, and suspecting that Philadelphia was the place of its destination, he broke up his camp and marched toward that city. His whole force was but seven thousand three hundred men.

While encamped at Morristown, Washington found that the Lord's Supper would be celebrated by the Presbyterian Church on a certain Sabbath. He called upon the pastor, Dr. Johns, and inquired:

"Does it accord with the canons of your church to admit communicants of another denomination?"

"Most certainly," the doctor answered; "ours is not the Presbyterian table, General Washington, but the Lord's table; and hence we give the Lord's invitation to all His followers, of whatever name."

Washington replied, "I am glad of it; that is as it ought to be; but as I was not quite sure of the fact, I thought I would ascertain it from yourself, as I propose to join with you on that occasion. Though I am a member of the Church of England, I have no exclusive partialities."

He encamped at Middlebrook, ten miles from Brunswick; thence advanced to Coryell Ferry, thirty miles from Philadelphia, where he learned that a British fleet of two hundred and twenty-eight sail had appeared off the capes of Delaware. He marched at once to Germantown, six miles from Philadelphia. Here he could personally superintend the defences of the city by daily visits thither.

One day he dined with several members of Congress, and was introduced to a French nobleman, the Marquis de Lafayette. The latter had heard of the American struggle for liberty, led by the heroic Washington, and, in common with the lovers of freedom in every land, he was charmed by the story. He had an interview with Silas Deane, who was in Paris with Dr. Franklin and Arthur Lee, as commissioners, to consummate alliance with the French, the result of which was his coming to this country.

Washington welcomed Lafayette with genuine cordiality, and on that day commenced a life-long friendship with him.

"We ought to feel embarrassed in presenting ourselves before an officer just from the French army," he said.

"It is to learn, and not to instruct, that I came here," was Lafayette's polite and modest reply.

Lafayette addressed a communication to Congress, in which he said:

"After many sacrifices I have a right to ask two favors: one is to serve at my own expense; the other, to commence serving as a volunteer."

Washington was attracted to Lafayette from the first, and he invited him immediately to a place on his staff.

Lafayette was a remarkable character. He was left an orphan at thirteen years of age, with a large fortune. Being a favorite in the court of Louis, he received a commission in the army at fifteen years of age. He was married at sixteen, and two years later resolved to remove to America and join in fighting the battle of liberty. His purpose becoming known, the government prevented his securing a passage. Determined not to be frustrated in his purpose, he purchased a vessel, and prepared to sail. His arrest being ordered, he escaped to Passage, where he boarded a vessel bound for the West Indies. When fairly under way, fearing that the English colonists in the West Indies might arrest him, he hired the captain to proceed direct to the American coast. Congress commissioned him major-general soon after he joined the American army, the youngest major-general ever known in America, if not in the world. His intimate relations and aid to Washington make this brief notice necessary.



XXI.

DEFEAT AND VICTORY.

The plan of the British for 1777 was, for General Howe, with twenty thousand men, to land at the head of Elk River, and march north through Philadelphia; while General Burgoyne, starting from Canada with ten thousand men, should march south to meet Howe, rallying both Tories and Indians to his standard.

The militia of Pennsylvania, Delaware, and Northern Virginia were called out to defend Philadelphia; and Washington advanced to Wilmington. In order to impress the Tories of Philadelphia, he marched through the city at the head of his column, with Lafayette at his side, making an imposing display that captivated the friends of liberty, and awed the Tories.

It was in this campaign that an officer of the army dined with Washington at his headquarters. Several guests graced the occasion. When, agreeable to the prevailing custom, the general proposed to drink a glass of wine with him, the officer replied, "You will have the goodness to excuse me, as I have made it a rule not to take wine."

The other guests were surprised. They regarded the act as a direct insult to the commander-in-chief. Washington read their feelings in their faces, and he remarked: "Gentlemen, my friend is right; I do not wish any of my guests to partake of anything against their inclination, and I certainly do not wish them to violate any established principle in their social intercourse with me. I honor Mr. —— for his frankness, for his consistency in thus adhering to an established rule which can never do him harm, and for the adoption of which, I have no doubt, he has good and sufficient reasons."

While Washington was watching the British fleet, General Burgoyne was advancing from the north, his Hessian soldiers and Indian allies indulging themselves in terrifying and plundering the defenceless inhabitants. On the 16th of August the battle of Bennington was fought, in which the American troops, under the brave General Stark, won a decisive victory. Stark addressed his troops in words of cheer before going into battle, and closed by saying:

"Now, my men, there are the red-coats. Before night they must be ours, or Molly Stark will be a widow."

Stark captured thirty-two British officers, five hundred and sixty-four privates, four brass field-pieces, a thousand stand of arms, and a large quantity of ammunition.

The moral effect of this victory was grand. The farmers rushed to the American camp, to follow up the victory by surrounding Burgoyne, cutting off his supplies, and driving him to Saratoga.

Washington hailed the victory with great joy, and proclaimed it at the head of his army to inspire his troops to nobler deeds.

Another bloody battle was fought at Fort Schuyler, where the Americans bravely defended and held the fort. The Indians conducted so much like fiends incarnate that even the Hessians were shocked. A Hessian officer wrote:

"These savages are heathen; huge, warlike, and enterprising, but wicked as Satan. Some say they are cannibals, but I do not believe it; though, in their fury, they will tear the flesh of the enemy with their teeth."

A Miss McCrea, daughter of a New Jersey clergyman, was visiting friends at the North. Her lover was a Tory, and he was in the British army, so that she felt no anxiety at the approach of Burgoyne.

Early one morning she was startled by the horrid yells of savages, who had surrounded the house where she was visiting. Before she was scarcely aware of her peril, they burst into the house, in their wild fury, seized her, and bore her away in triumph. While they were disputing as to whom the prize belonged, a drunken chief buried his tomahawk in her head, whereupon she was scalped and left dead upon the ground.

Nine days after the battle of Bennington, Washington learned that General Howe was landing his troops in Elk River, seventy miles from Philadelphia. It was not, however, until the 8th of September that the two armies met, and the battle of Brandywine was fought.

Washington had eleven thousand men, and Howe eighteen thousand. It was a sanguinary contest, in which the Americans were defeated, with a loss of twelve hundred. Lafayette conducted himself with great coolness and bravery, and was wounded by a bullet that passed through his leg.

The consternation in Philadelphia was now appalling. Many of the citizens fled; Congress adjourned to Lancaster; confusion and dismay turned the city into Bedlam.

Washington retreated to Germantown to prepare for another battle. He was beaten, but not dismayed.

Another instance of the providential care over Washington occurred just before the battle of Brandywine. In disguise, accompanied by a single officer in a Hussar dress, he reconnoitered one day. Major Ferguson beheld him at a distance, and, supposing he belonged to the enemy, he ordered three riflemen to steal near to him and fire. But, for some unaccountable reason, he recalled the riflemen before they fired. What was his surprise on the next day to learn that the supposed enemy, whom he would have shot, was his own general, Washington!

Howe could not ascend the Delaware to Philadelphia because it was defended by Forts Mifflin and Mercer. He prepared to attack them.

A large force of British were at Germantown, and on the night of Oct. 2, Washington performed a march of fifteen miles and attacked them. A quick and signal victory perched upon his banners, and the enemy fled in confusion. The victory was turned into defeat, however, by a serious blunder. The British had been driven three miles, leaving tents and baggage behind, and were still on the retreat when in the dense fog, several Jersey and Maryland regiments approaching, were mistaken for British reinforcements. The cry was raised: "We are surrounded and retreat cut off!" whereupon the Americans retreated in confusion.

General Sullivan wrote of Washington in that battle:

"I saw, with great concern, our brave commander-in-chief exposing himself to the hottest fire of the enemy, in such a manner that regard for my country obliged me to ride to him and beg him to retire. He, to gratify me and others, withdrew a short distance; but his anxiety for the fate of the day soon brought him up again, where he remained till our troops had retreated."

At great sacrifice of men and money, the British removed the obstructions from the river, and took possession of Philadelphia.

Dr. Franklin was in Paris when the news reached him, "Howe has taken Philadelphia." "No," replied Franklin, "Philadelphia has taken Howe."

The sequel proved that Franklin had an eye upon the future.

Although the prospect was gloomy in Pennsylvania, glad tidings came to Washington from the north. The Americans completely surrounded Burgoyne's army at Saratoga, so that farther retreat was impossible. On the 16th of October, 1777, after holding a council of war, Burgoyne surrendered to General Gates, remarking:

"The fortune of war has made me your prisoner."

"I shall always be ready to testify that it has not been through any fault of your excellency," Gates replied.

Burgoyne's army was reduced from nine thousand men, to five thousand seven hundred and fifty-two. These prisoners were allowed a free passage to Europe, under the irrevocable condition not to serve again in the British ranks. Seven thousand stand of arms, a large number of tents, a long train of artillery, and a great quantity of clothing and stores fell into the hands of the victors.

The celebrated Polish patriot Kosciusko was chief engineer in Gates' command when Burgoyne was captured.

The British made Philadelphia their winter quarters, where the troops indulged themselves in almost unrestrained revelry. They forced many sympathizers with the American cause to vacate their dwellings for the accommodation of their own number; and many were quartered upon patriotic families, with the express understanding that failure to supply their wants would be resented.

Washington went into winter quarters at Valley Forge, about twenty miles from Philadelphia. The tale of suffering connected with that place during that long, dreary winter, is known to the world.

Arriving there, many of the troops without blankets or shoes, ragged, worn out, and desponding, they were exposed to the snows and blasts of December until they could cut down trees and build their own huts. Two days after encamping, General Huntington reported to Washington:

"My brigade are out of provisions, nor can the commissary obtain any meat."

General Varnum reported:

"Three days successively we have been destitute of bread. Two days we have been entirely without meat." Against his own judgment, in order to prevent mutiny in his army, Washington was forced to forage the country and seize supplies wherever he could find them, paying for them in money, or certificates redeemable by Congress.

Yet we find Washington writing thus:

"For some days past there has been little less than a famine in the camp. A part of the army has been a week without any kind of flesh, and the rest, three or four days. Naked and starving as they are, we cannot enough admire the incomparable patience and fidelity of the soldiers, that they have not been ere this excited by their suffering to a general mutiny and desertion."

Sickness and mortality prevailed to an alarming extent among the troops, while scarcely any medicines were at hand. Even scores of horses perished by hunger and the severity of the weather.

One day circumstances drew Washington's attention to a hungry soldier who was on guard. The general had just come from his own table and he said:

"Go to my table and help yourself."

"I can't; I am on guard," the soldier replied. Immediately taking the soldier's gun to play the part of sentinel, Washington said, "Go."

The soldier enjoyed the first square meal he had eaten for two days, and at the same time he learned that his general had true sympathy with the "boys," and that official distinction did not lift him above the humblest of their number.

With his army in such a deplorable condition, and his cannon frozen up and immovable, Washington knew very well that, almost any day, the British might march out of Philadelphia and capture or annihilate his entire command. His anxiety and trouble can be more easily imagined than described.

To add to the trials of that winter, Washington learned of a conspiracy against him, the object of which was to supersede him by General Gates as commander-in-chief. His old friend Dr. Craik wrote to him:

"Notwithstanding your unwearied diligence and the unparalleled sacrifice of domestic happiness and care of mind which you have made for the good of your country, yet you are not wanting in secret enemies, who would rob you of the great and truly deserved esteem your country has for you. Base and villanous men, through chagrin, envy, or ambition, are endeavoring to lessen you in the minds of the people, and taking underhand methods to traduce your character," etc.

Generals Gates, Mifflin, and Conway were engaged in this plot; but their timely and complete exposure redounded to the honor of Washington.

The duel which General Hamilton fought with General Conway, in which the latter was severely wounded, grew out of this affair. Hamilton could not endure the presence of an officer who was secretly plotting against his chief.

In the month of February Mrs. Washington joined her husband at Valley Forge, to share his winter quarters with him, as she had done at Cambridge and Morristown. She wrote to a friend:

"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.

"The commander-in-chief shared the privations of the camp with his men. His cabin was like theirs."

The presence of Mrs. Washington at Valley Forge was a blessing to the army. She occupied her time fully in caring for the sick, sewing and mending for the "boys," and making herself generally useful.

Again the commander-in-chief interceded with Congress for more liberal pay for his soldiers. Alluding to the sufferings of his soldiers, he wrote:

"To see men 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 provisions as with them, marching through the frost and snow, and at Christmas taking up their winter quarters within a day's march of the enemy, without a house or hut to cover them till it could be built, and submitting without a murmur, is a proof of patience and obedience which, in my opinion, cannot be paralleled."

It was during this memorable winter at Valley Forge that a man by the name of Potts was strolling through the woods, when he heard the sound of a human voice. Cautiously approaching the spot whence the voice proceeded, what was his surprise to discover Washington on his knees engaged in earnest prayer for his country. On returning home, Potts called to his wife, "Sarah, Sarah, all is well. George Washington will triumph!"

"What is the matter now, Isaac? Thee seems moved," Mrs. Potts replied. (They were Quakers.)

"I have this day seen what I never expected to see," Mr. Potts continued. "Thee knows that I have always thought the sword and the gospel utterly inconsistent, and that no man could be a soldier and a Christian at the same time. But George Washington has this day convinced me of my mistake."

He then described the scene he had witnessed, adding:

"If George Washington be not a man of God, I am greatly deceived; and still more shall I be deceived if God does not, through him, work out a great salvation for America."

Baron Steuben, a renowned European general, coming to this country at this juncture to proffer his services, through the influence of Dr. Franklin, Washington induced Congress to commit the reorganization of the army to him. This proved a fortunate arrangement for the future of the army and country, next to the appointment of General Green quarter-master-general.

Previously a distinguished Pole, Thaddeus Kosciusko, who was educated in the military school at Warsaw, had come to him with a letter from Dr. Franklin.

"And what do you seek here?" inquired Washington.

"To fight for American independence," replied Kosciusko.

"What can you do?"

"Try me."

Washington welcomed him heartily, and throughout the Revolution he proved to be an able and faithful ally.

Count Pulaski, another famous general of Poland, had joined the American army at the solicitation of Dr. Franklin, who introduced him by letter to Washington.

Washington had corresponded with the British general respecting an exchange of General Lee and Ethan Allen, but he was unable to effect an exchange until this winter of his trials at Valley Forge. General Prescott, who captured Allen in Canada, ironed him, and sent him to England, was himself captured in the summer of 1777; and Washington proposed to exchange him for General Lee, and Colonel Campbell for Colonel Allen. It was not, however, until near the close of the long dreary winter at Valley Forge that his proposition was accepted. Lee rejoined the army, but Allen returned to his home in Vermont, where he hung up his sword and retired to private life.

In the spring of 1778, the glad news came that an alliance with France was accomplished, and henceforth the struggling Colonies might expect assistance from that country. At the same time a war between France and England was imminent, a calamity that would prove favorable to the patriots of America, since the British Government could not keep its army in Philadelphia and wage a war with France.

Lafayette was instrumental in consummating the alliance with France. For this purpose he left the United States in 1779, and returned in March, 1780. His own country received him with open arms, and honored him by appointing him to one of the highest positions in their army.

In the month of May there were some indications that the enemy were about to evacuate Philadelphia. The news that a French fleet under Count D'Estaing was about to sail to this country, to aid the Colonies in their fight for independence, caused Sir Henry Clinton, who had succeeded Howe in the command of the British army, to fear that he might be blockaded in the Delaware.

"Shall we allow the enemy to leave the city without attacking them?" inquired Washington at the council of war.

"Yes," promptly answered General Lee, just restored to his command. "If they will go, let them go. This army is too weak to attack the British in their stronghold."

"The two armies are now nearly equal in numbers," said Washington, "and experience has so far shown that the British have had nothing to boast whenever they have come in conflict with an equal number of Americans."

"Very true," responded Lee; "but let them evacuate if they will. The risk of a battle is too great to run. I would build a bridge of gold for them if they would retreat over it."

Washington, Lafayette, Wayne, and Cadwalader were the only members of the council who favored an immediate attack. Without deciding the question, Washington requested each one to furnish his opinion in writing. Before this was done, however, the city was evacuated. On the eighteenth day of June the whole British army crossed the Delaware into New Jersey, eleven thousand strong, with an immense baggage and provision train, and marched for New York by way of New Brunswick and Amboy.

The American army was in pursuit as speedily as possible.

"We must compel an engagement," said Washington, eager to give the foe a sound drubbing before it was too late.

"And we must do it as soon as possible," answered Lafayette.

"There is no time to lose, neither," said Greene.

General Lee was opposed to a general engagement.

They were near Monmouth Court-house, and it was the night of June 27.

General Lee had command of the advance, five thousand picked men, and his orders were, "Attack the enemy to-morrow."

At midnight a horseman was galloping up to Washington's headquarters, when the sentinel challenged him.

"Doctor Griffith, chaplain and surgeon in the Virginia line, on business highly important with the commander-in-chief."

"Officer of the guard!" cried the sentinel. That officer appeared. Doctor Griffith repeated his errand.

"Impossible; my orders are positive," replied the guard.

"But I must," persisted the doctor.

"You cannot," repeated the guard. "The commander-in-chief is intensely engaged."

"Present, sir, my humble duty to his excellency, and say that Dr. Griffith waits upon him with secret and important intelligence, and craves an audience of only five minutes duration."

He was soon ushered into Washington's presence.

"The nature of the communication I am about to make to your excellency must be my apology for disturbing you at this hour of the night," observed the doctor. "While I am not permitted to divulge the names of the authorities from which I have obtained my information, I can assure you they are of the very first order, whether in point of character or attachment to the cause of American independence. I have sought this interview to warn your excellency against the conduct of Major-General Lee in to-morrow's battle. My duty is fulfilled, and I go now to pray to the God of battles for success to our arms, and that He may always have your excellency in His holy keeping."

Doctor Griffith retired, and the battle of Monmouth was fought on the next day. Washington, with his aides, was approaching the scene of action, when he met a little fifer boy who archly observed:

"They are all coming this way, your honor."

"Who are coming, my little man?" inquired General Knox.

"Why, our boys, your honor; our boys, and the British right after them," answered the fifer.

"Impossible!" exclaimed Washington, and put spurs to his horse.

Sure enough, he soon met General Lee's advance in full retreat.

"What is the meaning of all this, sir?" he called out to General Lee.

The latter was dumbfounded, and made no reply.

"I demand, sir, to know the reason of this retreat," shouted Washington in a tone of anger.

"By my own order," answered Lee, vexed by the commander's sharp address.

"Go to the rear, you cowardly poltroon!" shouted Washington, thoroughly aroused and indignant over the conduct of the officer.

At that juncture, his favorite aid, Lieutenant-Colonel Hamilton, leaped from his horse and, drawing his sword, addressed the general:

"We are betrayed! Your excellency and the army are betrayed! And the time has come when every true friend of America and her cause must be ready to die in their defence!"

Under the magic influence of the commander-in-chief the retreat was speedily arrested, and one of the most glorious victories of the Revolution achieved.

Washington was almost ubiquitous in his exertions, and his noble white charger galloped over the battlefield, utterly regardless of danger, until the splendid beast sank under the excessive heat, and died. Immediately the general mounted another war-horse of equal spirit, and, brandishing his sword high in the air, called to the troops:

"Stand fast, my boys, and receive your enemy! The Southern troops are advancing to support you!"

On the evening before, the officers drew up a memorial to Washington, entreating him not to expose himself in battle, as he did at Princeton, Trenton, and other places. Dr. Craik, who was present, remarked:

"It will not have the weight of a feather with him." Then referring to the Indian chief's prophecy on the banks of the Ohio, "The Great Spirit protects him; he cannot be shot in battle," he added, "I believe it."

In the bloody contest of the next day, a round shot from the British artillery ploughed the ground directly in front of the general, throwing up a cloud of dirt over his person.

"Dat wash very near!" exclaimed Baron Stuben. Dr. Craik and several of the officers who were together on the previous evening were witnesses. Pleased by this remarkable confirmation of his faith in the Indian's prophecy, Dr. Craik smiled and, without uttering a word, pointed his finger towards heaven, as much as to say, "The Great Spirit protects him."

At the close of the day the battle-ground was in possession of the Americans. Washington's orders were to attack the foe again as soon as they began to move in the morning. But in the morning no enemy could be found; they had silently retreated during the night.

The Americans lost two hundred and twenty killed and wounded; and the British two hundred and fifty, and one hundred prisoners.

Major-General Lee was court-martialed for his conduct on the field of Monmouth, and was suspended from all command for one year. Many believed that he was an arch-traitor, who deserved a halter, although the evidence of it was not then conclusive. But eighty years thereafter (in 1858), papers were discovered in Lee's handwriting, in which he communicated to Lord and Sir William Howe, while he was a prisoner in New York, a plan for subjugating the Colonies. The only explanation of his conduct, after the fall of Fort Washington, is found in his treasonable designs. He never returned to the service.

On the 13th of July Washington received news of the arrival of the French fleet, consisting of twelve ships of the line and six frigates, and four thousand men for a land force. Immediate consultation with the commander, Count D'Estaing, led him to cross the Hudson and establish his army at White Plains.

Rhode Island was in the possession of the British, and Washington proposed to recover it by the united action of his army and the French fleet. After several weeks of rough campaigning, Washington was compelled to abandon his purpose, because the eccentric D'Estaing resolved to take his fleet to Boston for rest and repairs.

For the winter of 1778-'79 he stationed his army in cantonments from Long Island Sound to the Delaware, while his own headquarters were near Middlebrook. This arrangement was designed to protect the country and watch the enemy.

The next year, 1779, the enemy carried on a predatory war, striking here and there with detachments of troops, plundering, burning, and ravaging the neighborhood. Washington was fully occupied in repulsing the enemy engaged in this sort of warfare.

As illustration of the cruel measures adopted by the British commander, an expedition was sent to Connecticut; they captured the fort at New Haven, destroyed all the vessels in the harbor, with all the artillery, ammunition, and stores, and plundered several private houses. They burned the town of Fairfield, destroying ninety-seven dwelling houses, sixty-seven barns and stables, forty-eight store-houses, three places of worship, two school-houses, a court-house, a jail, and all the vessels and public stores they could lay their hands on. Norwalk was also burned in the same ruthless manner; and the depredations extended into Massachusetts, injuring or destroying such towns as offered good harbors for privateers.

Exasperated by the reluctance of the Tories to flock to the British standard, and the numerous desertions of English and Germans from his army, King George sent his emissaries to instigate the savages of the Mohawk to plunder and butchery. The terrible massacres of Cherry Valley and Wyoming, in which hundreds of men, women, and children were remorselessly slaughtered, and their habitations committed to the flames, followed. The brutality of those scenes are known to the world, because they are matters of history.

Some of the ablest statesmen of England fearlessly denounced the king and his court for prosecuting a war with such barbarity. Lord Chatham declared:

"Were I an American as I am an Englishman, I would never lay down my arms: never, never, NEVER!"

The king and his court maintained, however, that they were justified in resorting to any measures to subdue American rebels.

Two remarkable expeditions which Washington organized that year were those which captured Stoney Point, under General Wayne; and Paulus Hook, under Major Henry Lee. These grand achievements inspirited the American army, and did much to convince the British that they were engaged in a fruitless attempt to reduce the Colonies to their domination.

As winter approached, the French fleet, which sailed from Boston to the West Indies, appeared off the Southern coast, to co-operate with General Lincoln, who commanded the Southern Department. On this account the British commander was compelled to operate in that direction.

Washington, whose headquarters had been at West Point for several months, went into winter quarters at Morristown, where the experience of Valley Forge was repeated with additional rigor.

The cruel treatment of Americans captured by the British had long engaged Washington's attention, and reference to it here is in point. Many of their prisoners were confined in old ships, where they suffered all that hunger, thirst, filth, and abuse could inflict. On account of the dreadful sufferings endured by the prisoners, these ships were called "floating hells."

The "Jersey Prison Ship" and the old "Sugar House," converted into prisons by Lord Howe, are notorious for their infamous character in American history. Congress appealed in vain to the commanding British general, and Washington wrote to him upon the subject again and again. In one letter Washington said:

"From the opinion I have ever been taught to entertain of your lordship's humanity, I will not suppose that you are privy to proceedings of so cruel and unjustifiable a nature; and I hope that, upon making the proper inquiry, you will have the matter so regulated that the unhappy persons whose lot is captivity may not in the future have the miseries of cold, disease, and famine added to their other misfortunes.... I should not have said thus much, but my injured countrymen have long called upon me to endeavor to obtain a redress of their grievances, and I should think myself as culpable as those who inflict such severities upon them were I to continue silent."

A Rev. Mr. Andros of Massachusetts was confined in the "Jersey Prison Ship." After his escape and the close of the war, he published a small book detailing the sufferings of its occupants. One brief paragraph therefrom is all our space will permit.

"Her dark and filthy exterior corresponded with the death and despair reigning within. It is supposed that eleven thousand American seaman perished in her. None came to relieve their woes. Once or twice, by order of a stranger on the quarter-deck a bag of apples was hurled promiscuously into the midst of hundreds of prisoners, crowded as thick as they could stand, and life and limb were endangered in the struggle. The prisoners were secured between the decks by iron gratings; and when the ship was to be cleared of watch, an armed guard forced them up to the winches, amid a roar of execrations and reproaches, the dim light adding to the horrors of the scene. Thousands died whose names have never been known, perishing when no eye could witness their fortitude, nor praise their devotion to their country."

The brave Lingan, hero of Fort Washington, was confined in the "Jersey;" and it was amid the horrors around him that he exclaimed:

"Sweet, O my country, should be thy liberties, when they are purchased at this monstrous price!"

Custis relates that one day, when a coffin was brought in which proved too short for the dead comrade, and it was proposed to cut off his head in order to adapt the body to the receptacle, Lingan "sprang from his couch of pain, and, laying his hand upon the lifeless corpse of the departed soldier, swore he would destroy the first man who should thus mutilate the body of his friend."



XXII.

CLOSE OF THE WAR.

The treason of Arnold in 1780 contributed, on the whole, to the fidelity of the army in 1781. The poorest soldier in the ranks scorned "to become an Arnold."

Washington placed Arnold in command at West Point in 1780. Arnold had long been interceding for the position, and it was found subsequently that he had been in treasonable correspondence with the British commander fifteen months when he assumed command of that post. The correspondence was commenced voluntarily by Arnold, and was conducted on the part of Sir Henry Clinton by his aid, Major John Andre, under the signature of John Anderson.

General Arnold was harassed by burdensome debts. He was a gambler, too, and, of course, devoid of moral principle. His object was to pay his debts with British gold.

His correspondence ripened into a plan by Arnold to deliver West Point into the hands of the British, for which purpose a midnight meeting was arranged between him and Major Andre. The meeting occurred at Dobb's Ferry, when Arnold delivered to Andre a plan of the works at West Point, together with a plan of attack by the British, when the post would be surrendered on the ground that the American troops were too few to hold it. The papers were concealed in Andre's stockings.

On his return, even after he had passed the American lines, three patriotic representatives of the New York yeomanry, John Paulding, Isaac Van Wart, and David Williams, stopped him, the first aiming his musket at his head.

"Gentlemen, I hope you belong to our party," said Andre with as much composure as he could command.

"What party?" responded Paulding.

"The lower party," replied Andre.

"We do," they said.

"I am a British officer, and have been up the country on particular business," continued Andre, now feeling that he was among friends. He was deceived by the dress which Paulding wore,—that of a refugee. Paulding had been a prisoner in the hands of the British, confined in that terrible prison known as the "Sugar House." He was released only four days before. In that place his citizen's suit was taken from him, and replaced by the refugee garb, so that the barbarity of Andre's countrymen became the cause of his detection.

"I must not be detained for a moment," continued Andre, taking out his gold watch, the sight of which showed to his captors that he was a man of consequence.

"We are Americans, and you are our prisoner!" exclaimed Paulding.

Andre was astounded by this revelation, and he was ready to pay any amount of money to his captors if they would let him go.

"Dismount!" shouted Paulding, seizing his horse's bridle.

"Beware, gentlemen, or you will get yourselves into trouble," replied Andre.

"We will take care of that," retorted Paulding. "Any letters about you?"

"No."

"We'll find out about that," said Paulding; and they proceeded to search him. Finding nothing of a suspicious character about his clothes, they were disposed to let him proceed, when Paulding said:

"Boys, I am not satisfied; his boots must come off."

His boots were drawn off, and the concealed papers were found in his stockings.

"My God!" exclaimed Paulding, "he is a spy."

They conducted their prisoner to North Castle, and he was finally hung as a spy.

Arnold escaped to a British man-of-war, and figured thereafter as a general in the king's army, despised even by those who commissioned him.

Near the close of the winter of 1781, and through the spring, the enemy committed many depredations on our coast, in which Arnold played a conspicuous part. In Virginia and Connecticut his command wantonly destroyed a large amount of property. New London was burned under his generalship. Washington employed every means possible to capture the traitor, but in vain.

The British directed their chief efforts against the South, designing to spread consternation by their terrible ravages. Richmond was laid in ashes. Along the shores of the Potomac and Chesapeake they plundered and burned. They threatened to destroy Washington's home at Mount Vernon, and landed for the purpose of applying the torch to every building. The agent, Lund Washington, saved the property from destruction by furnishing the enemy with a large quantity of supplies. When the general heard what his agent had done, he wrote to him as follows:

"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 burnt my house and laid the plantation in ruins."

In July, 1781, Washington planned an attack upon New York by the combined French and American forces. But his purpose was suddenly changed by hearing that the portion of the French fleet at the West Indies, under Count de Grasse, had sailed for the Chesapeake. Cornwallis was at Yorktown with his command, and his capture would give the Americans an illustrious prisoner. General Lafayette, who had returned from France, was in Virginia, looking after the British general as well as he could.

Immediately Washington put his army in motion for Virginia, leaving only troops enough to guard the passes of the Hudson. He marched directly for Williamsburg, to join Lafayette. On his way he called at Mount Vernon, from which he had been absent six years. "Here, unannounced, he darted into his home, like the first sunbeam after a storm, only to disappear again under as black a cloud as any of those that had brought the thunder. He had come but to tell his wife that he was on his way to seek a battle, an unequal though glorious contest, from which he might never return."

Washington joined Lafayette at Williamsburg on the 14th of September. Hastily arranging the siege of Yorktown, Cornwallis was surprised, one bright morning, to find that the heights around him were swarming with American soldiers, and the bay in front securely occupied by the French fleet.

On the 6th of October the bombardment of the British works commenced with terrible earnestness. An eye witness said:

"General Washington put the match to the first gun, and a terrible discharge of cannon and mortars immediately followed."

"What part of the town can be most effectively cannonaded?" Washington inquired of Governor Nelson, who was present.

Pointing to a large, fine house on an eminence, the governor replied:

"That is probably the headquarters of the enemy; fire at that."

It was Governor Nelson's own residence.

Four days the cannonading continued with great effect. At the expiration of that time, Washington ordered the capture of two redoubts, lying between him and the British works. These redoubts were so near as to prove a great annoyance to the American troops. To the Americans was assigned the capture of one, and to the French the capture of the other. At the point of the bayonet these redoubts were taken; not a gun was fired. As soon as Lafayette held possession of the redoubt taken by the Americans, he despatched a message to Baron de Viomenil announcing the fact, and inquired where the baron was.

"Tell the marquis," answered the baron, "that I am not in mine, but I will be in five minutes;" and he was.

During the whole of the bombardment, Washington, as usual, was seen in the most exposed positions, cheering his men and directing the assault. One day, as he stood beside the grand battery with Knox and Lincoln, and shot and shell flew around him, one of his aides, anxious for his general's safety, remarked:

"That is a very exposed situation, general."

"If you think so, you are at liberty to step back," Washington promptly answered.

Just then a musket ball struck the cannon in the embrasure, rolled along, and fell at the general's feet.

"My dear general, we can't spare you yet," exclaimed General Knox, grasping Washington's arm.

"Only a spent ball," responded Washington coolly; "no harm was done."

On the 17th of October Cornwallis sent a flag, with a letter, to Washington, asking for a cessation of hostilities twenty-four hours, that consultation might be had respecting terms of surrender. It was not, however, until the 19th that the terms of capitulation were agreed upon, and the renowned Cornwallis with his army became Washington's prisoners.

The time and method of the formal surrender being agreed upon, Washington warned his troops against any exultant demonstrations that might wound the feelings of the conquered.

"My brave fellows," he said, "let no sensation of satisfaction for the triumphs you have gained induce you to insult your fallen enemy. Let no shouting, no clamorous huzzaing, increase their mortification. Posterity will huzza for us."

By the surrender of Cornwallis, Washington received over seven thousand prisoners, and one hundred and sixty pieces of cannon. Counting the sailors, negroes, and Tories who became prisoners, the whole number amounted to nearly twelve thousand.

Thatcher describes the scene of the formal surrender as follows:

"About two o'clock the garrison sallied forth, and marched between the two columns (the Americans on one side and the French on the other) with slow and solemn steps, colors cased, and drums beating a British march. They were all well clad, having been furnished with new suits prior to the capitulation. They were led by General O'Hara on horseback, who, riding up to General Washington, took off his hat and apologized for the non-appearance of Lord Cornwallis, on account of indisposition. Washington received him with dignified courtesy, but pointed to Major-General Lincoln as the officer who was to receive the submission of the garrison. By him they were conducted into a field where they were to ground their arms. In passing through the line formed by the allied army, their march was careless and irregular, and their aspect sullen. The order to "ground arms" was given by their platoon officers with a tone of deep chagrin, and many of the soldiers threw down their muskets with a violence sufficient to break them. This irregularity was checked by General Lincoln; yet it was inexcusable in brave men in their unfortunate predicament. The ceremony over, they were conducted back to Yorktown, to remain under guard until removed to their places of destination."

There were twenty-eight stand of colors to be delivered up. Twenty-eight British captains, each bearing a flag, were drawn up in line. Opposite to them, twenty-eight American sergeants were placed to receive the colors. At a given signal the colors were surrendered.

The next day Washington addressed his army in words of gratulation and tender regard. He issued the following order, also, to the army:

"Divine service is to be performed to-morrow in the several brigades and divisions. The commander-in-chief earnestly recommends that the troops not on duty shall universally attend, with that seriousness of deportment and gratitude of heart which the recognition of such reiterated and astonishing interpositions of Providence demand of us."

In the midst of this rejoicing, Washington received the sad intelligence that his step-son, John Parke Custis, was lying at the point of death. Mr. Custis accompanied his mother, Mrs. Washington, to Cambridge, the first winter of the Revolution, and became one of her husband's aides. He was taken sick after the army invested Yorktown, and no hope of his recovery was entertained. He longed to live, however, to witness the surrender of Cornwallis. On the day of the ceremony of capitulation, he was taken from his bed and conveyed to the place, where he might behold the scene. The ceremony over, he was willing to be conveyed to Elthain, where he was taken immediately. Within thirty hours thereafter, the message came to the general that Custis was in a dying condition.

At midnight Washington, accompanied by a single officer and groom, started on horseback for Elthain. By rapid riding he reached there in the morning twilight.

"Is there no hope?" he said to Dr. Craik, who met him at the door.

The doctor shook his head. Bursting into tears, Washington stepped into an adjoining room to indulge his grief, requesting to be left alone. While bowed in sorrow there, Custis expired.

On entering the chamber of death, Washington lovingly embraced the weeping wife and mother, now a widow, tears responding to tears, his deep sorrow showing how dearly he loved the departed one.

When he was able to control his grief, he turned to the group of sorrowing friends, and said:

"From this moment I adopt his two youngest children as my own."

His presence being demanded at Yorktown, without rest or refreshment he mounted a fresh horse, and returned thither before his absence was known, except to some of his aides.

It deserves to be recorded that the capture of Cornwallis could not have been accomplished without the co-operation of the French fleet; so that the reader has before him the remarkable fact that, in Washington's early military career, he joined the English to conquer the French, while in his closing military life, twenty-five years thereafter, he joined the French to conquer the English.

Another example of the divine blessing upon small battalions was furnished by the surrender at Yorktown. Cornwallis planned, during the siege, to withdraw his troops over the river in sixteen large boats, which he collected for the purpose, and, having reached Gloucester Point, escape to New York. On the night arranged for the flight, a violent storm arose, so that it was impossible for him to cross the river. That was his last, lost opportunity. Divine Providence thwarted his purpose, and gave victory to American arms.

In the siege of Yorktown Washington rode a splendid sorrel charger, white-faced and white-footed, named Nelson, and "remarkable as the first nicked horse seen in America." The general cherished this fine animal with strong affection. "This famous charger died at Mount Vernon many years after the Revolution at a very advanced age. After the chief had ceased to mount him, he was never ridden, but grazed in a paddock in summer, and was well cared for in winter; and as often as the retired farmer of Mount Vernon would be making a tour of his grounds, he would halt at the paddock, when the old war-horse would run, neighing, to the fence, proud to be caressed by the great master's hand."

No sooner did Cornwallis surrender than the commander-in-chief despatched a courier on horseback to Philadelphia, to bear the glad tidings to Congress. It was past midnight when the courier reached the city, and the night watchmen, on their respective beats, had just cried, "Twelve o'clock and all is well!"

They caught the glad news with joy, and the next hour they cried:

"One o'clock, AND CORNWALLIS IS TAKEN!"

Wakeful citizens in bed could scarcely believe their ears. They started up, and listened. Again the joyful tidings were repeated:

"CORNWALLIS IS TAKEN!"

Hundreds sprang from their beds in wild delight. Lights began to appear in the dwellings, darting from room to room. Soon men and women rushed from their habitations into the streets in the greatest excitement. Some were half dressed, scarcely knowing, in their exuberance of joy, whether they were in the flesh or out. Many wept to hear the news confirmed, and as many laughed. Not a few caught up the watchmen's cry, and ran from street to street, announcing, at the top of their voices:

"CORNWALLIS IS TAKEN! CORNWALLIS IS TAKEN!"

Every minute added to the throng in the streets; men, women, and children joining in the exhilarating exercise of sounding out their excessive delight upon the night air. Neighbors clasped hands and embraced each other to express their gladness. Many were too full for utterance; they broke down in tears with their first attempt to join in the general acclaim. Such a varied, impulsive, uncontrollable expression of joy was never before witnessed in that city.

Soon the bell on the old State-House rang out its gladsome peals, the same old bell that signalled the adoption of the Declaration of Independence, July 4, 1776. Other bells, one after another, united in the grand chorus of jubilation, supplemented by the thunder of artillery from the fortifications about the city, until every method of expressing real joy seemed to combine, as if by magical art.

At an early hour on the next morning Congress convened, and listened to the reading of Washington's letter, announcing the surrender of Cornwallis. The scene can be better imagined than described. That body was quite unfitted for the transaction of any business, except that which eulogized the commander-in-chief, and the brave men who had fought the battles of the country. Irving says:

"Congress gave way to transports of joy. Thanks were voted to the commander-in-chief, to the Counts De Rochambeau and De Grasse, to the officers of the allied armies generally, and to the corps of artillery and engineers especially. Two stands of colors, trophies of the capitulation, were voted to Washington; two pieces of field ordnance to De Rochambeau and De Grasse; and it was decreed that a marble column, commemorative of the alliance between France and the United States, and of the victory achieved by their associated arms, should be erected in Yorktown."

Finally, Congress issued a proclamation, appointing a day for general thanksgiving and prayer, in acknowledgment of this signal interposition of Divine Providence.

This done, Congress adjourned to assemble, at a later hour, in a public house of worship, there to join, with the grateful multitude, in praise and thanksgiving to God for His blessing upon the cause of liberty.

When the news of Cornwallis' surrender reached England, the disappointment and chagrin were well-nigh universal. The British ministry were astounded by the unexpected tidings. Lord Germain announced the fact to Lord North.

"And how did he take it?" inquired a public man.

"As he would have taken a ball in the breast," replied Germain.

"What did he say?"

"He opened his arms and exclaimed wildly, as he paced up and down the apartment, 'O God, it is all over!'"

As soon as Washington could leave he retired to Mount Vernon for a few days, from which place he wrote to General Greene:

"I shall remain but a few days here, and shall proceed to Philadelphia, when I shall attempt to stimulate Congress to the best improvement of our late success by taking the most vigorous and effectual measures to be ready for an early and decisive campaign the next year. My greatest fear is that Congress, viewing this stroke in too important a point of light, may think our work too nearly closed, and will fall into a state of languor and relaxation. To prevent the error, I shall employ every means in my power; and if, unhappily, we sink into that fatal mistake, no part of the blame shall be mine."

To another he wrote:

"The hand of Providence has been so conspicuous in all this, that he must be worse than an infidel that lacks faith, and more than wicked that has not gratitude enough to acknowledge his obligations."



XXIII.

PRESIDENT OF THE UNITED STATES.

"Now we must follow up this grand victory with harder blows," remarked Washington to Lafayette.

"Then you do not believe the war is ended yet?" Lafayette replied inquiringly.

"Of course not. The king will not yield to 'rebels' so willingly as that. We must concentrate our entire force upon New York now."

"Every lover of his country ought to be stimulated to greater deeds now," added Lafayette.

"And Congress ought to respond promptly and liberally to the demands of the hour," said Washington. "The legislatures of the several Colonies ought to be prompt and liberal, also, in providing men and means. Give us men and supplies equal to the emergency, and our independence can be permanently established."

Washington waited upon Congress personally, and he wrote letters to the governors of the several Colonies, pleading for more liberal aid than ever, that the war might be successfully prosecuted to the bitter end.

While these negotiations were progressing, the king superseded Sir Henry Clinton by the appointment of Sir Guy Carleton as commander-in-chief of the British army. The latter commander was in favor of peace, and he appealed to the British Parliament for conciliatory action; nor was his plea in vain. After a long and acrimonious struggle, Parliament adopted a resolution advising reconciliation. From that moment, peace negotiations were commenced, but were not fully consummated until Nov. 30, 1782, at Paris. It was the nineteenth day of April, 1783, when the welcome news, received in this country, was announced to the army.

The surrender of Cornwallis at Yorktown, contrary to the expectations of Washington, thus proved to be the end of the war. In just eight years from the time the first battle of the Revolution was fought at Lexington, April 19, 1775, the proclamation of peace was made to the army. "Thus ended a long and arduous conflict, in which Great Britain expended near a hundred millions of money, with a hundred thousand lives, and won nothing. America endured every cruelty and distress, lost many lives and much treasure, but delivered herself from a foreign dominion, and gained a rank among the nations of the earth."

The enemy evacuated New York and other posts and returned to England, and Washington occupied the same, and proceeded to disband the army. Addressing his officers and companions in arms, with deep emotion he said:

"With a heart full of love and gratitude, I now take leave of you. I most devoutly wish that your latter days may be as prosperous and happy as your former have been glorious and honorable. I cannot come to each of you to take my leave, but shall be obliged if each of you will come and take me by the hand."

He could say no more. Tears blinded his eyes, and emotion caused his voice to tremble. Silently, one after another, these heroes of many battles and sufferings approached and grasped his hand. No one spoke a word. Each felt more than language could express. The scene was affecting beyond description.

Congress was in session at Annapolis, and thither he journeyed to return his commission. A perfect ovation attended him all the way. The occupants of every town, village, and farmhouse turned out to hail the conqueror. Men, women, and children vied with each other in demonstrations of love and honor. Cannon pealed, bells rung, music wafted, voices sounded, banners waved, in honor "of the only man," as Jefferson said, "who had the confidence of all."

Congress received him in a manner to attest their profoundest respect and love. Resigning his commission, he said:

"Having now finished the work assigned me, I retire from the great theatre of action, and, bidding an affectionate farewell 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."

Our American Cincinnatus retired to his farm and plough, which he left eight years before at the call of his country. He designed to spend the remainder of his days in retirement at Mount Vernon. His large estates demanded his attention, and his tastes for agricultural pursuits adapted him to the situation.

Under his careful and efficient supervision, his Mount Vernon estate rapidly improved. He enlarged his house, so that he might accommodate the numerous distinguished visitors who now paid him their respects. He studied agriculture by consulting the best authorities, doing it not alone for the purpose of improving his own estates, but also to aid his newly emancipated country in developing its resources.

He lent his great influence to educational and religious enterprises, so essential to the stability and progress of the free and independent Colonies. Through his influence, two companies were organized to extend the navigation of the James and Potomac rivers. Grateful for his aid in creating enterprises of so great public benefit, the General Assembly presented him with one hundred and fifty shares of the stock, worth fifty thousand dollars. He declined to accept the large gift, saying:

"What will the world think if they should hear that I have taken fifty thousand dollars for this affair? Will they not suspect, on my next proposition, that money is my motive? Thus for the sake of money, which, indeed, I never coveted from my country, I may lose the power to do her some service, which may be worth more than all money."

He assured the Assembly that if they would contribute the amount for a national university in what is now the District of Columbia, and a literary institution in Rockbridge County, since called Washington College, he should esteem their gift even more than he would were he to accept and devote it to his own private use; and they complied with his wishes.

As before the war, he continued to remember the poor, whose veneration for him was greater than ever. His methods of assisting them were often original, and always practical; as, for example, keeping a boat on the Potomac for their use in fishing. Here was an opportunity for them to obtain subsistence without sacrificing the virtues of industry and self-reliance.

Mr. Peake, who had charge of one of his plantations, said:

"I had orders to fill a corn-house every year for the sole use of the poor in my neighborhood, to whom it was a seasonable and most precious relief, saving numbers of poor women and children from miserable famine, and blessing them with a cheerful plenteousness of bread."

One year, when there was a scarcity of corn, and the price of it went up to a dollar per bushel, the suffering among the poor was much increased. Washington ordered his agent to distribute all that could be spared from the granaries, and he purchased several hundred bushels in addition, at the high price, to be used in charity.

Governor Johnson of Maryland, a hero of '76, related the following incident to Mr. Weems:

The governor went to the Virginia Springs for his health. The place was crowded with people, but he secured "a mattress in the hut of a very honest baker" whom he knew. The baker did a large business, and every day Mr. Johnson noticed that many poor negroes came for loaves, and took them away without paying a cent.

"Stophel," said Mr. Johnson one day, "you seem to sell a world of bread here every day, but notwithstanding that, I fear you don't gain much by it."

"What makes you think so?" replied Stophel.

"You credit too much."

"Not I, indeed, sir; I don't credit at all."

"Ay, how do you make that out? Don't I see the poor people every day carrying away your bread, and yet paying you nothing?"

"Pshaw! what of that? They will pay me all in a lump at last."

"At last!" exclaimed the governor, "at the last day, I suppose. You think the Almighty will stand paymaster, and wipe off all your old scores for you at a dash."

"Not by any means, squire. The poor bakers can't give such long credit; but I will tell you how we work the matter. Washington directed me to supply these poor people at his expense, and I do it. Believe me, squire, he has often, at the end of the season, paid me as much as eighty dollars, and that, too, for poor creatures who did not know the hand that fed them; for I had strict orders from him not to mention it to anybody."

In a former chapter we learned the magnanimity of his conduct towards one Payne, who knocked him down for a supposed insult. Mr. Payne relates that after the Revolution he called upon Washington at Mount Vernon.

"As I drew near the house," he says, "I began to experience a rising fear lest he should call to mind the blow I had given him in former days. Washington met me at the door with a kind welcome, and conducted me into an adjoining room where Mrs. Washington sat.

"'Here, my dear,' said he, presenting me to his lady, 'here is the little man you have so often heard me talk of, and who, on a difference between us one day, had the resolution to knock me down, big as I am; I know you will honor him as he deserves, for I assure you he has the heart of a true Virginian.'"

Mr. Payne adds: "He said this with an air which convinced me that his long familiarity with war had not robbed him of his nobleness of heart. And Mrs. Washington looked at him as if he appeared to her greater and lovelier than ever."

The same industry distinguished him on his return to his farms, for which he was so well known before the war. His rule was to rise at four o'clock and retire at nine. The forenoon was employed in labor and overseeing the work on his plantations. The presence of company did not interrupt his systematic methods. He would say to such:

"Gentlemen, I must beg leave of absence this forenoon. Here are books, music, and amusements; consider yourselves at home, and be happy."

But Washington was not allowed to remain long in private life. In 1787, a convention assembled in Philadelphia to form a confederacy of States. Washington was a member of that body, and was unanimously made its presiding officer. The convention sat four months, in which time the confederacy of States was consummated, called the United States, with the present Constitution essentially.

This new order of things required the election of a president, and Washington was unanimously elected. He was inaugurated on the thirtieth day of April, 1789, in the city of New York, then the seat of government. That the position was not one of his own seeking is quite evident from a letter which he wrote to General Knox:

"My movements to the chair of government will be accompanied by feelings not unlike those of a culprit who is going to the place of his execution, so unwilling am I, in the evening of life, nearly consumed in public cares, to quit a peaceful abode for an ocean of difficulties, without the competency of political skill, abilities, and inclinations which are necessary to manage the helm."

His journey to New York was accomplished in his own carriage, drawn by four horses. No king or conqueror was ever treated to a more enthusiastic ovation than was he from Mount Vernon to New York. The expression of a lad to his father indicates the exalted notions which the common people entertained of the great general. On getting a good view of him the lad exclaimed:

"Why, pa, he is only a man, after all!"

At Trenton, where he crossed the Delaware with his retreating, depleted army, his welcome was both imposing and beautiful. Upon the bridge an arch was erected, adorned with laurel leaves and flowers. Upon the crown of the arch, formed of leaves and flowers, were the words:

"DECEMBER 26TH, 1776."

Beneath was the sentence:

"THE DEFENDER OF THE MOTHERS WILL BE THE PROTECTOR OF THE DAUGHTERS!"

The president was obliged to pass under this arch to enter Trenton, where the female portion of the population met him. On one side little girls dressed in white stood, each one bearing a basket of flowers. On the other side were arranged the young ladies, and behind them the married women. The moment Washington and his suit approached the arch, the girls scattered their flowers before him, and the whole company of females sung the following ode, written for the occasion by Governor Howell:

"Welcome, mighty chief! once more Welcome to this grateful shore! Now no mercenary foe Aims again the fatal blow. Aims at thee the fatal blow.

Virgins fair and matrons grave, Those thy conquering arm did save, Build for thee triumphal bowers. Strew, ye fair, his way with flowers! Strew your hero's way with flowers!"