It was well that he could jest, however sternly, for his situation was newly complicated by the permission of Congress to attack Boston whenever he might think expedient, "notwithstanding the town and property in it may be destroyed." Such permission was equivalent to a broad hint, and there were not lacking suggestions from many obscure quarters that the country would be more content if its general should relieve it of the presence of the British army. Of "chimney corner heroes" Washington had a genuine contempt, but the resolve of Congress was another matter, especially when it came through the hands of John Hancock. He was the largest property-owner in the town, and prospectively the greatest sufferer by its destruction, yet he cheerfully wrote, "May God crown your attempt with success!"

Long before now, had Washington been able, he would have attempted to storm the town. But as often as he called a council of war to consider the matter, so often did his generals advise against the attempt. The Americans were doubtful, and Lee, affecting to mistrust the temper of the troops, would not advise the venture. As to burning the town by throwing carcasses[143] into it, Lee told the others that the town could not be set on fire by such means. Washington looked for a chance to assault the town by crossing on the ice, but for a long time the Back Bay did not freeze, and when at last it did, he had neither men nor powder. Such then was his situation when he answered the letter of Hancock.[144] He begged Congress to consider his situation if, in spite of their wishes, he did not act. And that they should clearly understand, he wrote these words:—

"It is not in the pages of history, perhaps, to furnish a case like ours. To maintain a post within musket shot of the enemy, for six months together, without and at the same time to disband one army, and recruit another, within that distance of twenty-odd British regiments, is more, probably, than was ever attempted."

The significant omission in this passage is the word "powder." At another time, when doubtful of the safety of his letter, he used the paraphrase, "what we greatly need." He knew that his correspondents would supply the omission and interpret the reference. But once at least, on the 14th of January, when writing to Joseph Reed, formerly his aide, to whom at this period he seems to have written more freely than to any one else, Washington gave a complete account of his situation when almost at its worst, and ended with an explanation of his state of mind. Conditions are so completely summarized, and his thoughts are so frankly given, that the paragraphs had best be given entire.

"Our enlistments are at a stand; the fears I ever entertained are realized; that is, the discontented officers (for I do not know how else to account for it) have thrown such difficulties or stumbling-blocks in the way of recruiting, that I no longer entertain a hope of completing the army by voluntary enlistments, and I see no move or likelihood to do it by other means. In the last two weeks we have enlisted but about a thousand men; whereas I was confidently led to believe, by all the officers I conversed with, that we should by this time have had the regiments nearly completed. Our total number upon paper amounts to about ten thousand five hundred; but as a large portion of these are returned not joined, I never expect to receive them, as an ineffectual order has once issued to call them in. Another is now gone forth, peremptorily requiring all officers under pain of being cashiered, and recruits of being treated as deserters, to join their respective regiments by the 1st day of next month, that I may know my real strength; but if my fears are not imaginary, I shall have a dreadful account of the advanced month's pay.[145] In consequence of the assurances given, and my expectation of having at least men enough to defend our lines, to which may be added my unwillingness to burthen the cause with unnecessary expense, no relief of militia has been ordered in, to supply the places of those, who are released from their engagements tomorrow, and as to whom, though many have promised to continue out the month, there is no security for their stay.

"Thus I am situated with respect to men. With regard to arms I am yet worse off. Before the dissolution of the old army, I issued an order directing three judicious men of each brigade to attend, review, and appraise the good arms of every regiment; and finding a very great unwillingness in the men to part with their arms, at the same time not having it in my power to pay them for the months of November and December, I threatened severely, that every soldier, who should carry away his firelock without leave, should never receive pay for those months; yet so many have been carried off, partly by stealth, but chiefly as condemned, that we have not at this time one hundred guns in the stores, of all that have been taken in the prize ship and from the soldiery, notwithstanding our regiments are not half complete. At the same time I am told, and believe it, that to restrain the enlistment to men with arms, you will get but few of the former, and still fewer of the latter which would be good for anything.

"How to get furnished I know not. I have applied to this and the neighboring colonies, but with what success time only can tell. The reflection of my situation, and that of this army, produces many an unhappy hour when all around me are wrapped in sleep. Few people know the predicament we are in, on a thousand accounts; fewer still will believe, if any disaster happens to these lines, from what cause it flows. I have often thought how much happier I should have been, if, instead of accepting the command under such circumstances, I had taken my musket on my shoulder and entered the ranks, or, if I could have justified the measure to posterity and my own conscience, had retired to the back country, and lived in a wigwam. If I shall be able to rise superior to these and many other difficulties, I shall most religiously believe, that the finger of Providence is in it, to blind the eyes of our enemies; for surely if we get well through this month, it must be for want of their knowing the difficulties we labor under.

"Could I have foreseen the difficulties, which have come upon us; could I have known, that such a backwardness would have been discovered among the old soldiers to the service, all the generals on earth should not have convinced me of the propriety of delaying an attack upon Boston till this time."[146]

One more blow Washington was to receive, in the news of the failure of the expedition against Quebec. This came to him on the 17th of January. But from about that time, though very slowly, the prospect began to brighten. His army strengthened, money was loaned him by Massachusetts, and though early in February he reported that he had in camp two thousand men without guns, even muskets were eventually provided. Moreover, cannon were now supplied him, through the exertions of Henry Knox. Washington had detached him in November to go to Ticonderoga and Crown Point, and provide means for bringing the captured cannon to camp. The general had even hoped that more might be had from Quebec, but that expectation was now gone. Knox, in the face of many difficulties, fulfilled his mission. On December 17 he wrote from Lake George that he had got the cannon as far as that point, and with forty-two "exceedingly strong sleds" and eighty yoke of oxen expected to make the journey to Springfield, whence fresh cattle would bring him to Cambridge. The artillery, in this humble manner, at last arrived, howitzers, mortars, and cannon, fifty-five pieces of iron or brass. With what had been captured elsewhere the supply was ample, and the guns, after a delay at Framingham, were mounted at the fortifications, or reserved for the attempt to take Dorchester. Powder also had slowly come in faster than it was used or could spoil, and Washington found himself almost ready to act.

When at last he could draw a long breath, with the feeling that the worst of the situation was over, he gave, in letters to Joseph Reed and John Hancock, his opinion of his army as it then was, and of the means to make it better. Placed behind any kind of shelter, his provincials would give a good account of themselves. But they could not yet be depended on to make an assault in the open field. For this they would have to receive severer training, and in order to acquaint them with their proper duties a longer term of service was necessary. Even now, at the beginning of another year of service, the men had the officers too much in their power, for indulgence was necessary in order to make them enlist again. He was therefore firmly of the opinion that his present army, and all new recruits, should be enlisted "for and during the war." Thus Washington, looking beyond his still uncompleted task, like Lincoln many years later, perceived the only means to final success.

But with the means which he had at hand he was now impatient to act. It was almost March, and at any time Howe might receive the reinforcements which would enable him to take the offensive. Washington prepared to fortify Dorchester as soon as the state of the ground would permit of digging, and in order to lessen the work he prepared fascines—which were bundles of sticks—and chandeliers or frameworks to hold the bundles in place in order to serve as the body of an embankment. Remembering how at Bunker Hill the regulars had been led to suppose that the troops at the rail fence, protected by nothing except the rails and hay, were behind an embankment, he collected ropes of hay to use if necessary for the same purpose, but also to bind the wheels of his carts that they might make no noise. Carts he collected to the number of three hundred. In the Charles River he prepared boats enough to carry twenty-eight hundred men. Two floating batteries were also made ready there; a third had earlier been destroyed by the bursting of its cannon when firing at the camp on the Common. Washington was about to strike, with the suddenness which characterized him, but also with the thorough readiness.

For his camp, even if temporarily, was now full. Early in February came in ten regiments of militia, summoned on service until the first of April. They manifested, he wrote with satisfaction, the greatest alertness, and the determination of men engaged in the cause of freedom. And on the first of March he called into camp the militia of the neighboring towns, who were to report at Roxbury fully equipped for three days' service. To these men was read his general order, preparing their minds for action. They were forbidden to play at cards or other games of chance, and advised to ponder the importance of the cause in which they were enlisted. "But it may not be amiss for the troops to know," he added, "that if any man in action shall presume to skulk, or hide himself, or retreat from the enemy without the orders of his commanding officer, he will be instantly shot down." And with this exhortation and warning Washington concluded his preparations.

FOOTNOTES:

[138] See the "Writings of Washington," iii, 123-124, note.

[139] See letter to Ward, "Writings," iii, 161.

[140] See the "Writings of Washington," iii, 161, note. The facts concerning Washington's difficulties with enlisting are taken chiefly from this volume, where they can best be studied.

[141] This was a Sunday.

[142] Frothingham's "Siege," 104.

[143] Carcasses were hollow shells with several openings. They were filled with combustibles, and when thrown into a town were intended to set fire to buildings.

[144] Washington's communications to Congress were addressed to Hancock, as its President.

[145] He had paid in advance all who had enlisted.

[146] "Writings of Washington," iii, 238-241.



CHAPTER XIV

THE WINTER IN BOSTON

When the British army went into winter quarters it was nearly at the end of its difficulties concerning food. Supplies from England had been very meagre, and the occasional raids had provided poorly for the wants of the town. But since October matters had improved, largely because of the criticism of the English Whigs in Parliament. These pointed out the inactivity of the troops, the humiliation of the situation, the sickness and want in Boston. In order that nothing should be left undone to remedy the last, the perplexed ministry spent money lavishly to provision its garrison. Five thousand oxen, fourteen thousand sheep, with a great number of hogs, were purchased, and shipped alive. Vegetables, preserved by a new process, were bought in quantities; wheat and flour were collected; wood, coal, hay, and other fodder, with beer, porter, rum, Geneva, and the more innocent vinegar, were generously provided. To be sure, the commissions on all these purchases provided fortunes for the relatives of those in office, and the ship-owners found excuses for setting sail as late as possible, in order to increase the hire of their craft. As a result, much of the vast expense—some six hundred thousand pounds for provisions alone—was wasted. Contrary gales detained the ships; the live stock died by wholesale, and was thrown overboard; the vegetables spoiled; and numbers of the ships were lost outright. Others, arriving without convoy at the American coast, were captured by the watchful privateers. But of such vast supplies enough reached Boston to relieve the worst distresses of the inhabitants. Though the poorer of the Whigs had either to sign humiliating declarations in order to share in the rations of the troops, or else to continue on meagre fare, there was enough in the general market for the well-to-do among them to supply themselves. John Andrews, for instance, though he lived at the rate of six or seven hundred sterling a year, after October ate scarcely three meals of salt meat, "for I was determined to eat fresh provissions, while it was to be got, let it cost what it would."

There was, however, for months a great shortage of fuel. As the winter set in early, and with severity, large quantities were needed, and there was little on hand. The troops, of their own initiative, had already, even in the summer, begun to make depredations on private property, stealing gates and breaking up fences. This the commanders endeavored to stop, but took the hint and did the same by official condemnation. As so many of the inhabitants had left the town, the abandoned houses were torn down for fuel. When the winter came, the troops again began on their own account to steal wood. Howe threatened to hang the next man caught in the act, but still was forced to follow the example.

In choosing buildings for destruction, it was very natural to select Whig property. Perhaps the harshest assault on provincial sentiment had been made in summer, when during August Liberty Tree was felled. The Whigs felt very indignant, but took a peculiar pleasure in the reflection that during the operation a soldier had been accidentally killed. In the various poems written on the occasion the wretch's soul was unanimously consigned to Hades. It was besides remarked that the genuine tree of liberty, of which this had been but a symbol, had now grown so great as to overshadow the continent.

Besides Liberty Tree, the property of leading Whigs suffered, "My house and barn," writes Newell the selectman, on the 16th of November, "pulled down by order of General Robinson." Leach the schoolmaster, whose imprisonment had made him a marked man, had a hard fight to save his property. On Christmas Day he found a party of soldiers destroying his wharf, which had been allotted, as was the custom, to one of the regiments, in this case the light dragoons. In spite of his efforts Leach was not able to stop this destruction, as evidently in the present state of the town there was no use for wharves. But when his schoolhouse was threatened he carried the matter to headquarters. Howe said Leach had corresponded with the people without. "I denied the charge.... Finally I told him, as an Englishman, and a subject of the King's, I claimed protection of my property; and if my House was pulled down, I would follow him to England, or to China, for satisfaction. I expected he would get angry, and order me under Guard, or else to Gaol again. However, in General he behaved kindly." Howe referred him to his subordinates, who delayed giving orders until the soldiers had already broken into the schoolhouse. With much resolution Leach got them from the house and stood on guard at the door until by referring to Howe the schoolhouse was saved. But Leach had meanwhile lost "valuable Books and Instruments, Drawings, Colours, Brushes, several curious Optick Glasses, and sundry things of Value that I brought from India and China, that I cannot replace for money."[147]

At this time was pulled down the Old North Church, the steeple of the West Church, and John Winthrop's house, one of the oldest landmarks in the town. Over in Charlestown the troops used for fuel the deserted houses that had not been consumed on the 17th of June. At one time they were demolishing a mill near the American lines, but the provincials drove them away and presently burnt the mill. At another time, by a similar endeavor to lessen the British supply of fuel, there was brought about one of the more amusing incidents of the siege.

The officers in Boston, having little active work to do, were endeavoring to forget the irksomeness and the humiliation of their situation. Through no fault of their own the position was a hard one; they had boasted, and were not allowed to make good their vainglory; they had despised their adversaries, and were cooped up in a provincial town. In letters home they uneasily endeavored to explain their inaction; by return mail they learned what the wits of London had to say of both them and the country. "Mrs. Brittania," remarked Horace Walpole, "orders her Senate to proclaim America a continent of cowards, and vote it should be starved, unless it would drink tea with her. She sends her only army to be besieged in one of her towns, and half her fleet to besiege the terra firma; but orders her army to do nothing, in hopes that the American Senate in Philadelphia will be so frightened at the British army being besieged in Boston that it will sue for peace." There was sting in these words, but no remedy for the smart.

In order to forget such flings, and to banish the consideration of crowded quarters, irregular rations (for there still were periods of lean supply), slow pay, and inaction, the officers tried to kill time. The cavalry regiments searched for a means of exercising their horses, and Burgoyne is credited with the solution of their problem. Newell recorded in his journal how his church, after being profaned by Morrison, was examined by the colonel of the light horse, to see if the building was available for a riding-school. "But when it was considered that the Pillars must be taken away, which would bring down the roof, they altered their mind—so that the Pillars saved us."

A more notable building had to suffer instead. The Old South was taken for the purpose. The furnishings were torn out, and Deacon Hubbard's carved pew was carted away to be used as a hog-sty. The dismantled church was transformed into a riding-ring, with tanbark on the floor, and a leaping-bar. One of the galleries was fitted up for a social meeting-place; the remainder were used for spectators, for whose comfort was put in a stove into which disappeared for kindling many of the books and manuscripts stored in the building. For the rest of the siege the Old South, once so formidable, was a centre of Tory fashion.

Burgoyne was credited, also, with the design of putting an almost equally sacred edifice to a purpose still more horrifying to the good Calvinists of Boston. Faneuil Hall, the cradle of liberty, was made a theatre. Various plays were performed, and the amateurs were even so ambitious as to attempt the tragedies of Zara and Tamerlane. For the latter performance Burgoyne wrote a prologue and epilogue, which were spoken by Lord Rawdon, who had distinguished himself at Bunker Hill, and "a young lady ten years old." But the great event of the season was to be the production of a farce called the Blockade of Boston. It was this performance which the Americans interrupted, to the perennial satisfaction of all students of local history.

The play was to be performed on a January night. The Busy Body had just been given, and the curtain rose on the farce, presenting a view of the American camp, and the figure of Washington absurdly burlesqued in uniform, wig, and rusty sword. At this moment a sergeant suddenly appeared on the stage, calling out, "The Yankees are attacking our works on Bunker's Hill!" Conceiving this spirited action a part of the play, the audience began to applaud. But the sergeant vigorously repeated his statement, the sounds of distant cannonading were heard, and an aide called out, "Officers, to your posts!" The officers responded in all haste, and the performance was over for the evening. The reason for this interruption was that Washington had despatched a party to burn some of the houses still standing in Charlestown. The success of the attempt had caused the cannonading, and the consequent interruption of the play. No historian of the siege has failed to remark that the Whig ladies had the laugh of their Tory sisters, forced to return without their escorts.

A month before this incident, on the 5th of December, Burgoyne had sailed for home, recalled largely at his own instance, but already under consideration for the disastrous expedition from Canada. He did not return to Boston until 1777, when he came as a prisoner. It was when entering the town that he learned that the townspeople had long memories for his real or ascribed indignity to the Old South, for when he remarked to a friend upon the Province House, the headquarters during the siege, a voice from the crowd reminded him that the riding-school was close at hand. Since on the same occasion an old lady loudly beseeched her neighbors to "give the general elbow-room," Boston may be said to have taken its mild revenge on him.

Theatrical performances, balls, and parties were the amusements of the officers at this period of the siege, and persons of fashion doubtless were pleasantly situated. It was not so comfortable for the troops and their dependents, as we have already seen. The lack of fuel and consequent depredations on property led to plundering of a different kind, and petty thievery, which Howe put down with a stern hand. Heavy floggings were meted out to delinquents, and a wife of one of the privates was even sentenced to public whipping for receiving stolen goods. While there were no true horrors at this siege, there was thus much roughness of conduct among the soldiery, and of this the Whigs were sure to be the victims. With the example of Leach and Lovell before their eyes, the wiser among the provincials spoke cannily and walked softly, and attracted as little attention as possible. But among the poorer class there was much distress for lack of food and fuel, for even when the troops had plenty, it was difficult for the patriots to buy.

With their strength somewhat depleted, it was not to be wondered at that the poorer class was visited by smallpox. The epidemic was a mild one, and few persons died, but the visitation created great uneasiness. To lessen his burden, during the winter Howe sent out several companies of the poorer folk from the town landing them at Point Shirley, with the certainty that the Americans would care for them. But his action called down much reproach, and he was accused of sending out persons with the smallpox, in order to infect the besieging army. It was even charged that he had purposely inoculated some of the evicted. This, of course, is not to be believed; but it is curious to find the British at last taking satisfaction in the epidemic, since it would prevent Washington from attacking.

Gradually a feeling of security came over the besieged town. Admiral Graves had been recalled, and Shuldham took his place. The lighthouse was rebuilt and guarded. Howe felt strong enough to detach a squadron from the fleet in order to carry Clinton with a body of troops to the southward. This was the expedition that made the unsuccessful attack upon Charleston. Howe sent other vessels to the northern provinces and the West Indies, which brought in supplies. The store-ships from England continued to come in, and though Howe was vexed and at times alarmed by the loss of the valuable stores that fell into Washington's hands, on the whole he felt very strong. So much fuel arrived that in January the destruction of houses and wharves was stopped, and the men who had been on duty for the purpose were commanded to make themselves presentable. Neatness was a hobby with Howe, and he enforced it on his men, though at times the untidiness of his troops seems to have been remarkable.[148]

There are two expressions which show the confidence entertained at this period, not only by the garrison at large, but by the British general. One Crean Brush had made himself a place in the service, not in a military capacity, but as a useful hanger on. In January, anticipating the result of the spring campaign, he offered to raise a body of volunteers, not less than three hundred, with which he proposed, after the "subduction of the main body of the rebel force," to keep order along the Connecticut, and to maintain communication westward with Lake Champlain. There is no record that Howe took him at his word, but he well might have done so, so completely did he misjudge the situation. For about the same time he wrote to Lord Dartmouth that he was not apprehending any attempt by Washington, "by surprise or otherwise."[149]

But the surprise came. On the night of the second of March the American batteries, so long silent, began to play. From Cobble Hill, Lechmere Point, and Lamb's Dam in Roxbury, the three redoubts nearest to Boston, the Americans bombarded the town, and Howe's gunners instantly responded. The American fire was ineffective. "Our people," wrote David How, "splet the Congress the Third Time that they fired it." Other heavy mortars were likewise burst, doubtless owing to the inexperience of the gunners. But Washington's purpose, to "divert the attention" of the British from Dorchester, was fulfilled. They had no eyes save for the opposing batteries. For three nights the diversion continued; on the 4th it was, wrote Newell, "a most terrible bombardment and cannonade, on both sides, as if heaven and earth were engaged." At Braintree, miles away, Abigail Adams listened to the roar, and recorded the rattling of the windows, and the continual jar of the house. "At six in the morning," she writes, "there was quiet," but the quiet was from satisfaction on the one side, and amazement on the other.



On the two heights of Dorchester, commanding the town and the harbor, stood two American redoubts, larger and stronger than the redoubt at Breed's Hill. On lesser elevations stood smaller works. Seen from below, Washington's preparations seemed complete.

All that moonlit night, while the cannonade proceeded, the Americans had been busy. Everything had been prepared: the forts were staked out, the carts were loaded, the men were ready. As soon as the cannonade began, the men and carts were set in motion; the road was strewn with hay, and bales were piled to screen the carts as they passed to and fro. The troops worked with a will, first placing fascines in chandeliers to form the outlines of their works, and then covering them with earth. There is no better contemporary account given than in the diary of an unnamed officer, published some ninety years later.[150] He wrote:—

"A little before sunset marched off from Roxbury; but for more than half a mile before we came to Dorchester lines,[151] we overtook teams in great plenty, nor did we find any vacancy till we came to the lines; in some places they were so wedged in together, we were obliged to leave the road to get forward; we reached the lines at seven o'clock, where we waited half an hour for orders, when a signal was given and the cannonade began at Lamb's fort, and was immediately answered by a very warm fire from the enemy's lines; a brisk fire between N. Boston and our fortifications on Cambridge side, began soon after. It was supposed there was a thousand shot hove this night, by both armies, more than three fourths of which were sent from Boston.[152] Our party, consisting of about 2400 men, with 300 teams, were crossing the marsh, onto the Neck, which together with a fresh breeze from the S. W.[153] concealed us from the enemy till they could see our works by daylight. The division to which I was assigned, commanded by Col. Whitcomb, was ordered onto the northerly hill, where in one hour's time we had a fort enclosed, with fascines placed in shandelears; and we immediately employed as many men at intrenching as could be advantageously used for that purpose. A larger party was assigned to the high hill, where they erected a larger fort, built much in the same manner as ours. There were four other smaller forts and batteries erected this night on other eminences on the Neck."[154]

It is not to be wondered that the British, on making the discovery, "seemed to be in great confusion."[155] The labor that had been expended appeared prodigious. Washington himself was satisfied with the works; he knew them to be secure against the British cannon. To Howe the achievement was amazing, and he is said to have exclaimed that his whole army could not have done as much in a month. He wrote to Lord Dartmouth that the rebels must have employed at least twelve thousand men, whereas it was accomplished by two details of little more than two thousand men each. But in those days the British soldier was a poor hand with a shovel, while the Americans were all farmers. Nevertheless it is worth noting the difference in organization displayed in the taking of Dorchester and in the earlier seizure of Breed's Hill. Instead of a small detachment sent to unsurveyed ground, and unaided during both the work and the battle, Washington had his ground prepared,[156] his detachments ready, and his cannon in reserve to send upon the Heights. In the morning the redoubts, presenting the appearance of finished fortifications, were manned with fresh men.

Howe called at once a council of war. To it the admiral was summoned, and declared positively that his fleet was at the mercy of the rebels. There was but one opinion as to the situation: the honor of the army was at stake, and in addition the military reputation of the general. It was promptly decided to storm the works.

For this purpose twenty-four hundred men were sent to the Castle, which lay close under the Heights to the east, with but a narrow channel between. The command of these men was given to Lord Percy, who hoped now for the distinction which illness had prevented his achieving at Bunker Hill. The attack was to be made at night. Within the lines at Boston Neck was to be gathered another force of troops, which was to second the attack from that direction. This last, in the face of the strong batteries at Roxbury, was a forlorn hope; according to Lieutenant Barker the troops were not to load, but to advance with fixed bayonets, and may have hoped to carry the works by surprise.

Washington would have welcomed the main attack. During the day his works were strengthened and his men reinforced. Orchards had been cut down to serve as abattis, and barrels of earth were ready to roll down upon the British. The men were confident; they were commanded by Thomas, one of the best of the brigadiers, and Washington was there in person with a reminder that put courage into the breast of every American. For the day which he had chosen to decide the fate of Boston was the fifth of March, the anniversary of the Massacre.

Besides all this, Washington had another weapon in reserve. In the Charles River, out of sight of Boston, were his two floating batteries and his bateaux filled with soldiers. They were under Putnam, Sullivan, and Greene; and at a given signal, if Washington deemed the opportunity good, they were to cross the Back Bay and attack the town.—Truly the preparations were for such fighting as had never been seen in America.

But they came to naught, for nature took a hand in the struggle. Mercifully, since amid the projected battles the town itself might have perished with its inhabitants, there sprang up a gale. "A Hurrycane," wrote Newell, "or terrible sudden storm." The violence of the wind was such that no boat could live in the channel between the Castle and Dorchester, two of Percy's transports were driven ashore, and the attack was postponed. The next day the wind continued, accompanied by heavy rain. The Americans continued to labor on their works, until to every eye they were impregnable by any force that Howe might send against them. Howe called another council, and asked it to concur in his intention to evacuate the town. There was no other decision to make, and on the 6th of March[157] the orders were given.

"Blessed be God," wrote Newell, "our redemption draws nigh."

FOOTNOTES:

[147] "N. E. Hist. and Gen. Register," 1865, 313-314.

[148] See his general order enumerating faults, in Sparks, "Writings of Washington," iii, 236, note.

[149] See Frothingham's "Siege," 294-295.

[150] See the Historical Magazine for 1864, 328-329.

[151] These were a line of fortifications facing Dorchester, made earlier in the siege.

[152] According to Knox's return, given in Frothingham's "Siege," 298, footnote, the Americans threw only 144 shot and 13 shells. The British seem to have needed only an occasional stimulus.

[153] This breeze would bring the smoke of the Roxbury cannonade between the Heights and Boston.

[154] It seems generally to be considered that there was but one fort at Dorchester. The statement in the text is confirmed by the Revolutionary Journal of Colonel Baldwin, one of the engineers. "Six works thrown up this night at different places on the Hills & high ground a very Great work for one Night."

[155] Washington's letter to Hancock, "Writings," iii, 304.

[156] Colonel Baldwin records that he was on the ground in the afternoon.

[157] Frothingham says the 7th. But see the diaries of Barker (Atlantic, 39, 553) and Newell (Mass. Hist. Soc. Coll., 1, Series 4, 272).



CHAPTER XV

THE EVACUATION

Washington, looking into Boston from the Heights of Dorchester, witnessed the confusion of the British at the discovery of his works, and watched with grim pleasure the preparations made to attack him. The abandonment of the assault was to him a great disappointment. He had never seen men more alert and willing than his soldiers on the Heights. If Howe had sent a small force against them, Washington felt confident of repulsing it. Had the attacking force been so large as to have appreciably weakened the army in Boston, Washington would have delivered his counterstroke by means of the men in boats under command of Putnam. "He would have had pretty easy work of it,"[158] wrote Washington, still after nearly a month regretting the issue. He wrote his brother, "that this most remarkable interposition of Providence is for some wise purpose, I have not a doubt. But ... as no men seemed better disposed to make the appeal than ours did upon that occasion, I can scarcely forbear lamenting the disappointment."

Washington lay for a while inactive while the enemy prepared for their departure. But upon Howe's shoulders was thrown a tremendous task. He had under him, in the army and the fleet, about eleven thousand men.[159] For them he had been gathering military stores and provisions; he had many horses, much artillery, and at least a partial equipment for field service, in preparation for the spring campaign. His army had been at Boston for many months, some of the regiments for nearly two years; consequently there had been a natural accumulation of personal effects, for the convenience of the officers, with their wives and families. To carry away this army, its stores, and its belongings, there was not at hand enough shipping.

But the difficulty was greater than this, for Howe had to consider the Tories and their families. Long before this, when Gage was in command, the ministry had written that in case of evacuation "the officers and friends of government must not be left to the rage and insult of rebels, who set no bounds to their barbarity." Howe's ships, therefore, were to be at the service of the Tories, and with full knowledge of the involved results, he so informed them.

When the realization of the situation burst upon the Tories, they were, said a contemporary letter, "struck with paleness and astonishment."[160] "Not the last trump," wrote Washington, "could have struck them with greater consternation."[161] Until the very last, no suspicion of such a result seems to have disturbed them; they had borne themselves confidently, and had expected to see their enemies scattered when the new forces should arrive. Among their Whig brethren they had been very high-handed. "The selectmen say," wrote Eldad Taylor, who must have been at Watertown when the selectmen arrived there with the news of the evacuation, "that the Tories were the most dreadful of any, that all the sufferings of the poor for the want of provisions and the necessaries of life, were not equal to the dreadful scorn, derision, and contempt from them."

Upon the Tories was now put the hard decision, whether to go or stay. In order to decide, they needed to know what the Whigs would do to them; and to know that, they had but to consider what they would do to the Whigs in similar case. In their own prison languished the Whig Lovell. They thought of the Whig prisons which might be waiting for them, and they decided to go.

It is not to be denied that the decision was, under the circumstances, wise. The loyalists were right in supposing that the treatment which they would have meted to the Whigs, the Whigs would mete to them. For the country was inflamed against the Tories; Washington himself shared the sentiment against them. Much as we may regret this feeling, we must remember that it was natural to the age. Kind treatment to an opponent in civil war was not yet generally practised; it was Lincoln who made the lesson acceptable to mankind.

Practically all of the Tories, therefore, made up their minds to go. Some few, indeed, remained behind, counting upon their humble station, or inoffensiveness. No harsh treatment of them is recorded. The one prominent Tory who remained, Mather Byles the minister, soon weathered the storm that rose against him. The remaining loyalists, who planned to depart, were some eleven hundred in number. It was necessary that they should be accommodated in the ships, necessary also that they should take with them such of their valuables as were easily portable. Howe gave orders that room be made for them, and the orders were unselfishly obeyed by the army and navy.

But the haste, the disorder, even the tumult, in the days immediately following the order to depart, were extreme. Each regiment had to be assigned its transports, each Tory to find space for himself and his family, and if possible his goods. There was sorting of effects, bundling up of valuables, and strenuous efforts to get all in safety before Washington should bombard. Diarists agree in the concise terms with which they describe the town. Says Newell for the 8th: "The town all hurry and commotion, the troops with the Refugees and Tories all embarking." For the 9th he adds: "D^o. D^o. D^o." And for the 10th writes Lieutenant Barker: "Nothing but hurry and confusion."

In the meantime the Americans at Dorchester strengthened their works, and fortified one more eminence, which commanded the channel. Washington did not wish to cannonade the British, for if not attacked he saw no advantage in attacking, lest the town should be set on fire and burned. He therefore bided his time. All his action until now, he wrote Hancock, was but preparatory to taking post on Nook's Hill, a low promontory which ran so far out upon Dorchester flats that from its top cannon could enfilade the British lines at the Neck, and could command almost any part of Boston. An attempt to fortify it upon the night of the 9th was betrayed by the folly of the men, who kindled a fire and were dispersed by British cannon. But by this Washington was not disturbed. He was willing that Howe should delay for a while, if the delay were not too long. He himself had reasons for waiting, since he reasoned that the British would, on departing, attempt to seize New York, and he wanted time to prepare and despatch a force to hold that place. So he watched the British army, sent a regiment of riflemen to strengthen New York, and made ready five other regiments to depart as soon as the British fleet should leave the harbor.

But at this time the inhabitants of Boston were very uncertain of their own fate. Nothing was more natural than that Washington should attack, or that the exasperated British should on departing, even if unassailed, set fire to the wooden town. The selectmen, as spokesmen for the inhabitants, therefore inquired of Howe what his intentions were. Howe wrote in reply that he had no intention of destroying the town, if he were unmolested. This reply the selectmen sent in haste to Washington, begging for a similar assurance. Washington was not willing to bind himself, and returned answer that as Howe's note was "unauthenticated, and addressed to nobody," he could take no notice of it. Nevertheless, since no threat was made, the Bostonians felt more at ease.[162]

All this time the wind was contrary, and the troops unable to set sail. They therefore remained in their quarters, while completing their preparations for departure. As the days passed Howe began to destroy what he could not take with him, and to seize what would be of advantage to the rebels. His troops spiked cannon, burned artillery and transport wagons, or else threw them into the harbor, and ruined bulky stores. What he did deliberately, his men increased through malice. The 13th seems to have been the worst day of this period. "The Inhabitants," wrote Newell, "in the utmost distress, thro' fear of the Town being destroyed by the Soldiers, a party of New York Carpenters with axes going thro' the town breaking open houses, &c. Soldiers and sailors plundering of houses, shops, warehouses—Sugar and salt &c. thrown into the River, which was greatly covered with hogsheads, barrels of flour, house furniture, carts, trucks &c. &c.—One Person suffered four thousand pounds sterling, by his shipping being cut to pieces &c.—Another five thousand pounds sterling, in salt wantonly thrown into the river." No wonder that the sturdy old selectman thought these to be "very distressed times."

Howe's agent in the work of plundering was that Crean Brush who had offered to police the western part of Massachusetts with three hundred men. Him the general directed to receive all linen and woollen goods which were on sale, and to take those which were not delivered, giving certificates for the same. There is on file the petition of one Jackson, begging for payment for goods taken from him. Brush interpreted his commission very freely, and it was suspected that he was plundering on his own account. Every soldier or sailor who could give his officer the slip was doing the same, in spite of Howe's honest efforts to stop the plundering.

There was a little genteel thievery as well. Some of the Tories had unfairly secured more than their share of room on shipboard, and found this the chance to take their pick of the furniture of their Whig relatives. "Wat," wrote John Andrews to his brother-in-law in Philadelphia, "has stripped your uncle's house of everything he could conveniently carry off.... He has left all the looking glasses and window curtains, with some tables and most of the chairs; only two bedsteads and one bed, without any bedding or sheets, or even a rag of linnen of any kind. Some of the china and the principal part of the pewter is the sum of what he has left, save the Library, which was packed up corded to ship, but your uncle Jerry and Mr. Austin went to him and absolutely forbid it, upon his peril."

Another library did not fare so well. At this time disappeared that part of the Prince collection which had not been used for kindling the fires in the Old South. With it vanished the Bradford manuscript history of the Plymouth plantation, which a later generation freely returned.

While the Tories were so carefully looking to the future, the Whigs were obliged to guard what they could. Newell covers too many incidents with etceteras, but John Andrews who, as soon as the siege was lifted, was free to begin again his correspondence, speaks clearly of his difficulties. Through the siege he had had the care of six houses with their furniture, and as many stores filled with goods; but now he underwent more fatigue and perplexity than for the past eleven months, for "I was obliged," he says, "to take my rounds all day, without any cessation, and scarce ever fail'd of finding depredations made upon some one or other of them, that I was finally necessitated to procure men at the extravagant rate of two dollars a day to sleep in the several houses and stores for a fortnight[163] before the military plunderers went off—for so sure as they were left alone one night, so sure they were plundered." Later he was obliged to pay at the rate of a dollar an hour for hands to assist him in moving; but "such was the demand for laborers, that they were taken from me, even at that, by the tories who bid over me."

So, while the wind continued contrary, the plundering and the destruction continued. Before long the seashore dwellers might do their share of rescue, as the articles which were thrown into the harbor—"mahogany chairs, tables, etc.," records Abigail Adams—were cast up on the beaches. But one by one the transports filled and dropped down the harbor, until at last Washington grew impatient, and on the night of the 16th made his last move. Though the British, aware of the attempt, fired with their remaining guns all night at Nook's Hill, the Americans doggedly entrenched without returning a shot, and in the morning showed a finished redoubt. It was, as Trevelyan well says, Washington's notice to quit.

Howe meekly accepted it. "At 4 o'clock in the Morn.," writes Lieutenant Barker, "the troops got under arms, at 5 they began to move, and by about 8 or 9 were all embarked, the rear being covered by the Grenadiers and Light Infantry." The ships sailed down the channel, no shot was fired from the American batteries, and in return the Fowey, the last of the fleet, which Howe had threatened should fire the town before she departed, carried away with her her "carcases and combustibles," and Boston stood free and unharmed.

In half an hour the Americans were in possession. From Roxbury a company of five hundred, picked for the service because they had had the smallpox, entered the British lines, and manned the fortifications which looked toward the harbor. In the redoubt at Bunker Hill sentries appeared to be still doing their duty; but two men who were sent to reconnoitre found them to be dummies, and signalled their companions to follow them. General Putnam was given command of the town, from entering which the army in general, and all civilians, were prohibited until it was ascertained whether there was danger of smallpox.

Washington's other measures were decisive. He directed Manly, admiral of his little squadron, to follow the British fleet and cut off as many vessels as possible. One result of this order gave the greatest satisfaction. "The brave Captain Manly," wrote Andrews, "has taken the Brig that contained that cursed villain, Crean Brush, with great part of the plunder he rob'd the stores of here, that I immagine she must be the richest vessell in the fleet." Other ships were either similarly taken, or were forced to put ashore from lack of provision or of preparation.

Another of Washington's moves was to despatch his five regiments to New York. They went by way of Norwich, Connecticut, and from there, to save fatigue and time, were taken by water to the city. They arrived fresh and ready for the expected struggle, but though they watched long for the British fleet, it did not come.

Washington's third action was to defend Boston against a possible return of the British. The "lines" at Boston and Charlestown necks were demolished, and on the day after the evacuation Putnam and his men were at work building on Fort Hill a redoubt to command the harbor. With this and the Dorchester batteries the Bostonians might have been satisfied, but within a month they began fortifying Noddle's Island against any possible attempt by sea.

In all these precautions the Americans were hastened by the fact that the British, though they had left the upper harbor, were still in the lower, lying off Nantasket. "From Penn's Hill," wrote Abigail Adams to her husband, "we have a view of the largest fleet ever seen in America. You may count upwards of a hundred and seventy sail. They look like a forest." Their stay greatly puzzled Washington: "what they are doing," he wrote, "the Lord knows." He was troubled as well. The ten regiments of militia, which had strengthened his army since the first of February, had promised to remain only until the first of April, and he knew that it was "as practical to stop a torrent, as these people, when their time is up." He therefore feared lest the British, by striking with all their force upon his rear, might do him great injury.

This was not the first time that Washington, reasoning according to his own nature, expected from Howe that vigorous action which the British general was unable to perform. Howe, humiliated as he must have felt at receiving, while his vessel passed down the harbor, a despatch from the ministry applauding his decision not to evacuate the town, had no thought of revenge. He blew up the fortifications at the Castle, and prepared to destroy the lighthouse, but his purposes in remaining were to fit his fleet for sea, and to warn those British vessels which were bound for Boston. Nor had he the slightest intention of seizing New York. The statements which had come to Washington's ears, that Howe's destination was Halifax, in spite of the American's incredulity, were correct. On the 27th of March, ten days after the evacuation, the greater part of Howe's fleet weighed anchor, and sailed away for Halifax. His army felt its shame. "I do not know the thing so desperate," wrote an officer, "I would not undertake, in order to change our situation."[164] But in spite of the chagrin in the hearts of his soldiers, and the despair in the breasts of the Tories, few of them ever looked upon Boston again.

Before this time it had been ascertained that Boston was in no serious danger from smallpox, and on the 20th the main body of the army marched into Boston. It was an occasion of great happiness to the inhabitants, and they "manifested a lively joy." Two days later the town was thrown open to all comers, and once more, as before the Port Bill, entrance by land or ferry was free.

The town was speedily examined in all particulars, and those who had suffered by the siege were encouraged to bring in claims for damages. It was found that, except for the absolute destruction of buildings for fuel, the injury to houses was inconsiderable. Where the common soldiers had lived, interiors were defaced; yet externally the houses of the town looked much as they had before the siege. Where the officers had lived, the dwellings had suffered little, and even the homes of the prominent Whigs had not been injured. Abigail Adams wrote to her husband that their house was "very dirty, but no other damage has been done to it." She looked upon it as a new acquisition of property. Washington took pains to write Hancock, who had been so ready to sacrifice his belongings to the cause of the country, that his house, and even his furniture and pictures, had received no damage worth mentioning.

To the immense satisfaction of all Whigs, many military stores were found in the town. Most important were more than two hundred pieces of ordnance, the larger part of which, though spiked, could soon be put into serviceable condition. Balls and shells for the cannon and mortars were found; provisions, horses and their provender, medicines in quantity, and many other articles were discovered, amounting in value to nearly forty thousand pounds. The booty of Brush of course swelled this amount.



The Whigs now might see their friends again, and for a short time enjoyed military society of a new sort. John Andrews reports "nothing but a continual round of company." "Last week," he recorded, "I had the honor of General Washington with his lady, General Gates, Mr. Custos and Lady, with aid de Camps, &ca, to dine with me." It was an occasion of which he boasted to his dying day. In the town, now flooded with provision, there were many eager to feast Washington.

But he did not tarry long. While Howe and his fleet were in the bay, he kept his men at work demolishing the British defences against the land, and strengthening the forts which looked seaward, and he was continually on his guard against the blow which Howe might deliver. But when the British had sailed away to the north-east, Washington himself, on the 4th of April, set off for New York.

Howe had nevertheless left vessels at Nantasket Roads, to intercept the troop-ships and stores which were on their way to him. In this he was partly successful, for seven ship-loads of Highlanders were by this means saved from Yankee prisons. But even while the evacuation was in progress British vessels were captured in the harbor, and now in sight of the squadron and its Highlanders was taken the richest store-ship that had yet fallen into American hands. There was a brisk fight, also, between an American schooner, aground on Shirley Point, and thirteen boat-loads of men from the war-ships. The boats were beaten off, but the British had accomplished the death of the captain of the schooner, America's first naval hero, Mugford of Marblehead.

At length a determined effort was made to drive away the squadron. The militia was called out, and artillery was carried to islands down the harbor. There was a brief cannonade between the Americans and the fleet. Then the British commander, finding his anchorage no longer safe, blew up the lighthouse and followed Howe to Halifax. This was on the second anniversary of the enforcement of the Port Bill. Two days later the remainder of the Highlanders, unsuspiciously entering the harbor, fell into the hands of the Americans.[165]

The British resentment aroused by this last mischance was mild compared with the general indignation which burst on Howe's head at his conduct of the defence of Boston, and his hurried evacuation. The ministry announced the departure from Boston in the briefest fashion, but were forced to explain and excuse it in both the Commons and the Lords. "The General thought proper to shift his position," explained the Earl of Suffolk to the Lords, "in order, in the first place, to protect Halifax."[166] But the defence was riddled, Howe's general weakness was exposed, his neglect to fortify Dorchester was pointed out, and the English Whigs acutely reasoned that he must have had a virtual agreement with Washington to purchase the safety of the fleet and army at the price of immunity to the town. Newspapers and pamphleteers took up the subject, and Howe was eventually forced to ask for an inquiry into his conduct of the siege. To his dying day he was severely criticised for his generalship in America, and especially at Boston.

Of the other British military leaders, not one was successful. Gage was never again given a command. Burgoyne returned to Boston only as a prisoner. Clinton for a time commanded in America, but he was recalled.

As for the master whom these generals served, the king who was the cause of the war, his failure was complete. George III lost not only his revolted colonies, but also the dearer prize for which he fought, personal government. When at last peace was signed, the Americans had gained independence, and the English people had finally established the supremacy of Parliament. The king might reign, but he could no longer govern.

The fate of the Tories cannot detain us long, painful as it was. Some few returned to America after the war, and made again places for themselves. Among these was Judge Curwen. Some went to England, where they were out of their element. Dependent for the most part on the bounty of the crown, they lived in hope of a change of fortune. They longed for their homes, and sickened for a sight of the New England country, to them the most beautiful on earth. Many of them were too old to begin life anew: by the end of the war it was recorded that, of the Massachusetts Tory leaders, forty-five died in England. One of these was Hutchinson, upon whose life the best comment is the concluding sentence of Sabine's brief biography: "I forget, in his melancholy end, all else."

But numbers of the Tories remained in Canada. Doubtless many were discouraged from going to England by the reports of the condition of those already there. "As to your coming here," wrote Governor Wentworth from London to a friend in New Brunswick, "or any other Loyalist that can get clams and potatoes in America, they would most certainly regret making bad worse."[167] On such advice as this many, indeed most, of the refugees remained in Canada, and after the war, in which many of them fought, were of great service in building up that country. Nova Scotia and New Brunswick received the larger number of them; they became leaders of the bar, judges, physicians, prominent office-holders. It is not to be denied that among them were suffering and misery; they had lost much and had to begin again from the bottom, and many succumbed to the difficulties of the new life. After the war attempt was made to gain from the United States compensation for their losses; but the new country was unable even to recompense those who had suffered in its cause. The loyalists therefore looked to Britain for help, and in some measure found it, in pensions, grants of money, and holdings of land.

There is much to regret in this emigration, which took from New England such numbers of men and women of good blood and gentle breeding. For the Tories were largely of the better class, many of them had been educated at Harvard, and they represented an element which no community can afford to lose. Some of the difficulties of the new commonwealths were due to the loss of the conservative balance-wheel; some further troubles beset them from the bitterness of feeling in the new colonists across the border. This has now died away, but boundary and fisheries disputes long brought out the hostility latent in the descendants of the Tories.

So much for the losers in the fight. Of the winners, no American needs to be more than reminded of their fame and their successes. At the siege Washington made his first claim to fame. He proved his tenacity, his mastery of men, and the greatness of his resolution and daring. Some of his generals followed him in his success, some were failures. Lee attempted treachery, but was finally discarded by both sides. Gates endeavored to displace Washington, but ruined himself in the attempt. But most of Washington's other generals were able men. Greene proved himself to be a military genius second only to Washington. Knox, the sole Bostonian on Washington's staff, commanded the artillery throughout the war.

Of the chief Boston politicians, all ended their days honorably. Soon after the evacuation the body of Warren was sought for among the dead buried on Bunker Hill. It was found, identified, and entombed at Boston with solemn mourning. Hancock presently signed his name on the Declaration of Independence so large that King George could read it without his spectacles. The Boston merchant served the Continental Congress for another year as its president; then returning to Boston he became "King" Hancock, the governor of Massachusetts practically for life. John Adams passed to greater usefulness as envoy to France, first minister to Great Britain, and finally as Washington's successor as President. But to a student of Boston itself the mind dwells most willingly on Samuel Adams, "the man of the town meeting," who roused the rebellion, guided it skilfully, served usefully in many public capacities, and became governor after Hancock's death. His statue stands to-day in the square named after him, not far from the Old South and the old Town House, and within sight of Faneuil Hall.

But we trespass beyond the period of this history. When Howe sailed away, Boston's share in the Revolution was practically ended. No attempt was made to retake the town, for there could be no profit in gaining what could not be held. In the remaining years of the war the town had no more serious duty than fitting out ships of war and privateers, and of entertaining the officers of the French fleet. But Boston had earned its rest. For nearly sixteen years the town had stood as the spokesman for liberty, the leader of revolt. In bringing the country safely through a critical period, the services of Boston were essential.

FOOTNOTES:

[158] Trevelyan, in concluding that Washington disapproved of this attack by Putnam, is apparently misled by General Heath's curious habit of referring to himself in his Memoirs as "Our General." It was Heath who opposed the project. Against Howe's flimsy defences on the Back Bay, if weakened of defenders, Putnam might well have prevailed, especially in a night attack. They were, wrote Edward Bangs, "ill-constructed, and designed for little but to frighten us." James Warren, who reported on these works, found them to be very weak. See Frothingham's "Siege," 329.

[159] Frothingham's "Siege," 311.

[160] Eldad Taylor to his wife, Watertown, March 18, 1776.

[161] "Writings," iii, 343.

[162] For this correspondence, see Newell's "Diary," or "Washington's Writings," iii, 531-533.

[163] It cannot have been more than eleven days.

[164] Frothingham's "Siege," 310.

[165] See concerning these men and their commander the interesting monograph by Charles H. Walcott: "Sir Archibald Campbell of Inverneil, sometime Prisoner of War in the Jail at Concord, Massachusetts." Privately printed.

[166] "The Writings of Washington," iii, 531.

[167] Sabine's "Loyalists," 217.

THE END