VALLEY FORGE AND AFTER
Unless some great and capital change suddenly takes place ... this
army must inevitably starve, dissolve, or disperse. (Washington,
Dec. 23, 1777.)
John Marshall was the best tempered man I ever knew. Nothing
discouraged, nothing disturbed him. (Lieutenant Slaughter, of
Marshall at Valley Forge.)
Gaunt and bitter swept down the winter of 1777. But the season brought
no lean months to the soldiers of King George, no aloes to the Royal
officers in fat and snug Philadelphia.[355] It was a period of rest and
safety for the red-coated privates in the city, where, during the
preceding year, Liberty Bell had sounded its clamorous defiance; a time
of revelry and merry-making for the officers of the Crown. Gay days
chased nights still gayer, and weeks of social frolic made the winter
pass like the scenes of a warm and glowing play.
For those who bore the King's commission there were balls at the City
Tavern, plays at the South-Street Theater; and many a charming
flirtation made lively the passing months for the ladies of the
Capital, as well as for lieutenant and captain, major and colonel, of
the invaders' army. And after the social festivities, there were, for
the officers, carousals at the "Bunch of Grapes" and all night dinners
at the "Indian Queen."[356]
"You can have no idea," wrote beautiful Rebecca Franks,--herself a keen
Tory,--to the wife of a patriot, "you can have no idea of the life of
continued amusement I live in. I can scarce have a moment to myself. I
spent Tuesday evening at Sir William Howe's, where we had a concert and
dance.... Oh, how I wished Mr. Paca would let you come in for a week or
two!... You'd have an opportunity of raking as much as you choose at
Plays, Balls, Concerts, and Assemblies. I have been but three evenings
alone since we moved to town."[357]
"My wife writes me," records a Tory who was without and whose wife
was within the Quaker City's gates of felicity, "that everything is
gay and happy [in Philadelphia] and it is like to prove a frolicking
winter."[358] Loyal to the colors of pleasure, society waged a
triumphant campaign of brilliant amusement. The materials were
there of wit and loveliness, of charm and manners. Such women there
were as Peggy Chew and Rebecca Franks, Williamina Bond and Margaret
Shippen--afterwards the wife of Benedict Arnold and the probable cause
of his fall;[359] such men as Banastre Tarleton of the Dragoons,
twenty-three years old, handsome and accomplished; brilliant Richard
Fitzpatrick of the Guards; Captain John André, whose graces charmed all
hearts.[360] So lightly went the days and merrily the nights under the
British flag in Philadelphia during the winter of 1777-78.
For the common soldiers there were the race-course and the cock-pit,
warm quarters for their abodes, and the fatness of the land for their
eating. Beef in abundance, more cheese than could be used, wine enough
and to spare, provisions of every kind, filled pantry and cellar. For
miles around the farmers brought in supplies. The women came by night
across fields and through woods with eggs, butter, vegetables, turkeys,
chickens, and fresh meat.[361] For most of the farmers of English
descent in that section hated the war and were actively, though in
furtive manner, Tory. They not only supplied the British larder, but
gave news of the condition and movements of the Americans.[362]
Not twenty miles away from these scenes of British plenty and content,
of cheer and jollity, of wassail and song, rose the bleak hills and
black ravines of Valley Forge, where Washington's army had crawled some
weeks after Germantown. On the Schuylkill heights and valleys, the
desperate Americans made an encampment which, says Trevelyan, "bids fair
to be the most celebrated in the world's history."[363] The hills were
wooded and the freezing soldiers were told off in parties of twelve to
build huts in which to winter. It was more than a month before all these
rude habitations were erected.[364] While the huts were being built the
naked or scarcely clad[365] soldiers had to find what shelter they
could. Some slept in tents, but most of them lay down beneath the
trees.[366] For want of blankets, hundreds, had "to sit up all night by
fires."[367] After Germantown Washington's men had little to eat at any
time. On December 2, "the last ration had been delivered and
consumed."[368] Through treachery, cattle meant for the famishing
patriots were driven into the already over-supplied Philadelphia.[369]
The commissariat failed miserably, perhaps dishonestly, to relieve
the desperate want. Two days before Christmas there was "not a
single hoof of any kind to slaughter, and not more than twenty-five
barrels of flour!"[370] Men died by the score from starvation.[371]
Most of the time "fire cake" made of dirty, soggy dough,
warmed over smoky fires, and washed down with polluted water
was the only sustenance. Sometimes, testifies Marshall himself,
soldiers and officers "were absolutely without food."[372]
On the way to Valley Forge, Surgeon Waldo writes: "I'm Sick--eat
nothing--No Whiskey--No Baggage--Lord,--Lord,--Lord."[373] Of the camp
itself and of the condition of the men, he chronicles: "Poor food--hard
lodging--Cold Weather--fatigue--Nasty Cloaths--nasty Cookery--Vomit half
my time--Smoak'd out of my senses--the Devil's in it--I can't Endure
it--Why are we sent here to starve and freeze--What sweet Felicities
have I left at home;--A charming Wife--pretty Children--Good Beds--good
food--good Cookery--all agreeable--all harmonious. Here, all
Confusion--Smoke--Cold,--hunger & filthyness--A pox on my bad luck. Here
comes a bowl of beef soup,--full of burnt leaves and dirt, sickish
enough to make a hector spue--away with it, Boys--I'll live like the
Chameleon upon Air."[374]
While in overfed and well-heated Philadelphia officers and privates took
the morning air to clear the brain from the night's pleasures, John
Marshall and his comrades at Valley Forge thus greeted one another:
"Good morning Brother Soldier (says one to another) how are you?--All
wet, I thank'e, hope you are so--(says the other)."[375] Still, these
empty, shrunken men managed to squeeze some fun out of it. When reveille
sounded, the hoot of an owl would come from a hut door, to be answered
by like hoots and the cawing of crows; but made articulate enough to
carry in this guise the cry of "'No meat!--No meat!' The distant vales
Echo'd back the melancholy sound--'No Meat!--No Meat!'... What have you
for our Dinners, Boys? [one man would cry to another] 'Nothing but Fire
Cake and Water, Sir.' At night--'Gentlemen, the Supper is ready.' What
is your Supper, Lads? 'Fire Cake & Water, Sir.'"
Just before Christmas Surgeon Waldo writes: "Lay excessive Cold &
uncomfortable last Night--my eyes are started out from their Orbits like
a Rabbit's eyes, occasion'd by a great Cold--and Smoke. What have you
got for Breakfast, Lads? 'Fire Cake and Water, Sir.' The Lord send that
our Commissary of Purchases may live on Fire Cake & Water till their
glutted Gutts are turned to Pasteboard."
He admonishes: "Ye who Eat Pumpkin Pie and Roast Turkies--and yet Curse
fortune for using you ill--Curse her no more--least she reduce you ...
to a bit of Fire Cake & a Draught of Cold Water, & in Cold
Weather."[376]
Heart-breaking and pitiful was the aspect of these soldiers of liberty.
"There comes a Soldier--His bare feet are seen thro' his worn out
Shoes--his legs nearly naked from the tatter'd remains of an only pair
of stockings--his Breeches not sufficient to cover his Nakedness--his
Shirt hanging in Strings--his hair dishevell'd--his face meagre--his
whole appearance pictures a person foresaken & discouraged. He comes,
and crys with an air of wretchedness & despair--I am Sick--my feet
lame--my legs are sore--my body cover'd with this tormenting Itch--my
Cloaths are worn out--my Constitution is broken--my former Activity is
exhausted by fatigue--hunger & Cold!--I fail fast I shall soon be no
more! And all the reward I shall get will be--'Poor Will is dead.'"[377]
On the day after Christmas the soldiers waded through snow halfway to
their knees. Soon it was red from their bleeding feet.[378] The cold
stung like a whip. The huts were like "dungeons and ... full as
noisome."[379] Tar, pitch, and powder had to be burned in them to drive
away the awful stench.[380] The horses "died by hundreds every week";
the soldiers, staggering with weakness as they were, hitched themselves
to the wagons and did the necessary hauling.[381] If a portion of earth
was warmed by the fires or by their trampling feet, it froze again into
ridges which cut like knives. Often some of the few blankets in the army
were torn into strips and wrapped around the naked feet of the soldiers
only to be rent into shreds by the sharp ice under foot.[382] Sick men
lay in filthy hovels covered only by their rags, dying and dead comrades
crowded by their sides.[383]
As Christmas approached, even Washington became so disheartened that he
feared that "this army must dissolve;"[384] and the next day he again
warned Congress that, unless the Commissary were quickly improved, "this
army must inevitably ... starve, dissolve, or disperse."[385]
Early in 1778 General Varnum wrote General Greene that "The situation of
the Camp is such that in all human probability the Army must soon
dissolve. Our desertions are astonishingly great."[386] "The army must
dissolve!" "The army must dissolve!"--the repeated cry comes to us like
the chant of a saga of doom.
Had the British attacked resolutely, the Americans would have been
shattered beyond hope of recovery.[387] On February 1, 1778, only five
thousand and twelve men out of a total of more than seventeen thousand
were capable of any kind of service: four thousand were unfit for duty
because of nakedness.[388] The patriot prisoners within the British
lines were in even worse case, if we credit but half the accounts then
current. "Our brethren," records Surgeon Waldo in his diary, "who are
unfortunately Prisoners in Philadelphia, meet with the most savage &
inhumane treatments--that Barbarians are Capable of inflicting.... One
of these poor unhappy men--drove to the last extreem by the rage of
hunger--eat his own fingers up to the first joint from the hand, before
he died. Others eat the Clay--the Lime--the Stones--of the Prison Walls.
Several who died in the Yard had pieces of Bark, Wood,--Clay & Stones in
their mouths--which the ravings of hunger had caused them to take in the
last Agonies of Life."[389]
The Moravians in Bethlehem, some miles away from Valley Forge, were the
only refuge of the stricken patriots. From the first these Christian
socialists were the Good Samaritans of that ghastly winter. This little
colony of Germans had been overrun with sick and wounded American
soldiers. Valley Forge poured upon it a Niagara of starvation, disease,
and death. One building, scarcely large enough for two hundred and fifty
beds, was packed with nearly a thousand sick and dying men. Dysentery
reduced burly strength to trembling weakness. A peculiar disease rotted
blood and bones. Many died on the same foul pallet before it could be
changed. The beds were "heaps of polluted litter." Of forty of John
Marshall's comrades from a Virginia regiment, which was the "pride of
the Old Dominion," only three came out alive.[390] "A violent putrid
fever," testifies Marshall, "swept off much greater numbers than all the
diseases of the camp."[391]
Need, was there not, at Valley Forge for men of resolve so firm and
disposition so sunny that they would not yield to the gloom of these
indescribable months? Need, was there not, among these men, for spirits
so bright and high that they could penetrate even the death-stricken
depression of this fetid camp with the glow of optimism and of hope?
Such characters were there, we find, and of these the most shining of
all was John Marshall of the Virginia line.[392] He was a very torch of
warmth and encouragement, it appears; for in the journals and diaries
left by those who lived through Valley Forge, the name of John Marshall
is singled out as conspicuous for these comforting qualities.
"Although," writes Lieutenant Philip Slaughter, who, with the "two
Porterfields and Johnson," was the messmate of John Marshall, "they
were reduced sometimes to a single shirt, having to wrap themselves in a
blanket when that was washed"[393] and "the snow was knee-deep all the
winter and stained with blood from the naked feet of the soldiers,"[394]
yet "nothing discouraged, nothing disturbed" John Marshall. "If he had
only bread to eat," records his fellow officer, "it was just as well; if
only meat it made no difference. If any of the officers murmured at
their deprivations, he would shame them by good-natured raillery, or
encourage them by his own exuberance of spirits.
"He was an excellent companion, and idolized by the soldiers and his
brother officers, whose gloomy hours were enlivened by his inexhaustible
fund of anecdote.... John Marshall was the best tempered man I ever
knew,"[395] testifies his comrade and messmate.
So, starving, freezing, half blind with smoke, thinly clad and almost
shoeless, John Marshall went through the century-long weeks of Valley
Forge, poking fun wherever he found despondency, his drollery bringing
laughter to cold-purpled lips, and, his light-hearted heroism shaming
into erectness the bent backs of those from whom hope had fled. At one
time it would be this prank; another time it would be a different
expedient for diversion. By some miracle he got hold of a pair of silk
stockings and at midnight made a great commotion because the leaves he
had gathered to sleep on had caught fire and burned a hole in his
grotesque finery.[396]
High spirits undismayed, intelligence shining like a lamp, common sense
true as the surveyor's level--these were the qualities which at the
famine camp at Valley Forge singled the boyish Virginia officer out of
all that company of gloom. Just before the army went into winter
quarters Captain-Lieutenant Marshall was appointed "Deputy Judge
Advocate in the Army of the United States,"[397] and at the same time,
by the same order, James Monroe was appointed aide-de-camp to Lord
Stirling, one of Washington's generals.[398]
Such was the confidence of his fellow officers and of the soldiers
themselves in Marshall's judgment and fairness that they would come to
him with their disputes and abide by his decision; and these tasks, it
seems, the young Solomon took quite seriously. He heard both sides with
utmost patience, and, having taken plenty of time to think it over,
rendered his decision, giving the reasons therefor in writing.[399] So
just after he had turned his twenty-second year, we find John Marshall
already showing those qualities which so distinguished him in after
life. Valley Forge was a better training for Marshall's peculiar
abilities than Oxford or Cambridge could have been.
His superiority was apparent, even to casual observers, notwithstanding
his merriment and waggishness. One of a party visiting Valley Forge said
of the stripling Virginia officer: "By his appearance then we supposed
him about twenty-two or twenty-three years of age. Even so early in
life ... he appeared to us _primus inter pares_, for amidst the many
commissioned officers he was discriminated for superior intelligence.
Our informant, Colonel Ball, of another regiment in the same line,[400]
represented him as a young man, not only brave, but signally
intelligent."[401]
Marshall's good humor withstood not only the horrors of that terrible
winter, but also Washington's iron military rule. The Virginia
lieutenant saw men beaten with a hundred stripes for attempting to
desert. Once a woman was given a hundred lashes and drummed out of the
army. A lieutenant was dismissed from the service in disgrace for
sleeping and eating with privates, and for buying a pair of shoes from a
soldier.[402] Bitter penalties were inflicted on large numbers of
civilians for trying to take flour, cattle, and other provisions to the
British in Philadelphia;[403] a commissary was "mounted on a horse, back
foremost, without a Saddle, his Coat turn'd wrong side out his hands
tied behind him & drummed out of the Army (Never more to return) by all
the Drums in the Division."[404]
What held the patriot forces together at this time? George Washington,
and he alone.[405] Had he died, or had he been seriously disabled, the
Revolution would have ended. Had typhoid fever seized Washington for a
month, had any of those diseases, with which the army was plagued,
confined him, the patriot standard would have fallen forever. Washington
was the soul of the American cause. Washington was the Government.
Washington was the Revolution. The wise and learned of every land agree
on this. Professor Channing sums it all up when he declares: "Of all men
in history, not one so answers our expectations as Washington. Into
whatever part of his life the historian puts his probe, the result is
always satisfactory."[406]
Yet intrigue and calumny sought his ruin. From Burgoyne's surrender on
through the darkest days of Valley Forge, the Conway cabal shot its
filaments through Congress, society, and even fastened upon the army
itself. Gates was its figurehead, Conway its brain, Wilkinson its tool,
Rush its amanuensis, and certain members of Congress its accessories
before the fact. The good sense and devotion of Patrick Henry, who
promptly sent Washington the anonymous letter which Rush wrote to the
Virginia Governor,[407] prevented that shameful plot from driving
Washington out of the service of his country.
Washington had led his army to defeat after defeat while Gates had
gained a glorious victory; Gates was the man for the hour--down, then,
with the incompetent Virginian, said the conspirators. The Pennsylvania
Legislature, wroth that Howe's army had not been beaten, but allowed to
occupy the comfortable Capital of the State, remonstrated to Congress.
That body, itself, was full of dissatisfaction with the
Commander-in-Chief. Why would he not oust the British from Philadelphia?
Why had he allowed Howe to escape when that general marched out to meet
him? As the first step toward Washington's downfall, Congress created a
new Board of War, with Gates as President; Conway was made
Inspector-General.[408]
The conspirators and those whom their gossip could dupe lied about
Washington's motives. His abilities, it was said, were less than
ordinary; and his private conduct, went the stealthy whisper, was so bad
as to prove the hypocrisy of his deportment.[409] Nor were Washington's
generals spared. Greene was a sycophant, said these assassins of
character; Sullivan a braggart; Stirling "a lazy, ignorant drunkard."
These poisoners of reputation declared that General Knox and Alexander
Hamilton were "paltry satellites" of Washington and flatterers of his
vanity.[410] So cunning, subtle, and persistent were these sappers and
miners of reputation that even the timely action of Patrick Henry in
sending Washington Rush's unsigned attack might not have prevented the
great American's overthrow; for envy of Washington's strength, suspicion
of his motives, distrust of his abilities, had made some impression
even on men like John Adams.[411]
The great American bore himself with dignity, going hardly further than
to let his enemies know that he was aware of their machinations.[412] At
last, however, he lashed out at Congress. Let that body look to the
provisioning of the army if it expected the soldiers to fight. The
troops had no food, no clothing. The Quartermaster-General had not been
heard from for five months. Did his critics think "the soldiers were
made of stocks and stones?" Did they think an active winter campaign
over three States with starving naked troops "so easy and practicable a
business? I can assure those gentlemen," writes Washington, "that it is
a much easier and less distressing thing to draw remonstrances in a
comfortable room by a good fireside, than to occupy a cold, bleak hill,
and sleep under frost and snow, without clothes or blankets.... I have
exposed myself to detraction and calumny" because "I am obliged to
conceal the true state of the army from public view.... No day nor
scarce an hour passes without" an officer tendering his
resignation.[413]
Washington was saved finally by the instinctive faith which that part of
the common people who still supported the Revolution had in their great
leader, and by his soldiers' stanch devotion, which defeat after defeat,
retreat hard upon the heels of preceding retreat, hunger and nakedness,
wounds and sickness could not shake.
"See the poor Soldier," wrote Surgeon Waldo at Valley Forge. "He labours
thro' the Mud & Cold with a Song in his mouth, extolling War &
Washington."[414]
Congress soon became insignificant in numbers, only ten or twelve
members attending, and these doing business or idling as suited their
whim.[415] About the only thing they did was to demand that Washington
strike Philadelphia and restore the members of this mimetic government
to their soft, warm nests. Higher and yet more lofty in the esteem of
his officers and men rose their general. Especially was this true of
John Marshall for reasons already given, which ran back into his
childhood.
In vain Washington implored the various States to strengthen Congress by
sending their best men to this central body. Such able men as had not
taken up arms for their country refused to serve in Congress. Nearly
every such man "was absorbed in provincial politics, to the exclusion of
any keen and intelligent interest in the central Government of his
nation."[416]
Amidst the falling snow at Valley Forge, Washington thus appealed to
Colonel Harrison in Virginia: "America never stood in more eminent need
of the wise, patriotic, and spirited exertions of her Sons than at this
period.... The States, separately, are too much engaged in their local
concerns.... The States ... have very inadequate ideas of the present
danger."[417] The letter could not be sent from that encampment of ice
and death for nearly two weeks; and the harassed commander added a
postscript of passionate appeal declaring that "our affairs are in a
more distressed, ruinous, and deplorable condition than they have been
in since the commencement of the War."[418]
"You are beseeched most earnestly, my dear Col^o Harrison," pleaded
Washington, "to exert yourself in endeavoring to rescue your Country
by ... sending your best and ablest Men to Congress--these characters
must not slumber nor sleep at home in such times of pressing
danger--they must not content themselves in the enjoyment of places of
honor or profit in their Country [Virginia][419] while the common
interests of America are mouldering and sinking into irretrievable ...
ruin, in which theirs also must ultimately be involved."[420]
With such men, Washington asserted, "party disputes and personal
quarrels are the great business of the day, whilst the momentous
concerns of an empire [America][421] ... are but secondary
considerations." Therefore, writes Washington, in angry exasperation,
"in the present situation of things, I cannot help asking--Where is
Mason--Wythe--Jefferson?"[422]
"Where is Jefferson?" wrote Washington in America's darkest hour, when
the army was hardly more than an array of ragged and shoeless skeletons,
and when Congress was so weak in numbers and ability that it had become
a thing of contempt. Is it not probable that the same question was asked
by the shivering soldiers and officers of the Continental army, as they
sat about the smoking fires of their noisome huts sinking their
chattering teeth into their "Fire Cake" and swallowing their brackish
water? If Washington would so write, is it not likely that the men would
so talk? For was not Jefferson the penman who had inscribed the
Declaration of Independence, for which they were fighting, suffering,
dying?
Among the Virginians especially there must have been grave questionings.
Just as to John Marshall's army experience the roots of the greatest of
his constitutional opinions may clearly be traced, so the beginnings of
his personal estimate of Thomas Jefferson may be as plainly found in
their relative situations and conduct during the same period.
John Marshall was only a few days beyond his twentieth year when, with
his Culpeper Minute Men, he fought the British at Great Bridge. Thomas
Jefferson at that time was thirty-two years old; but the prospect of
battle on Virginia's soil did not attract him. At Valley Forge, John
Marshall had just entered on his twenty-third year, and Thomas
Jefferson, thirty-five years old, was neither in the army nor in
Congress. Marshall had no fortune; Jefferson was rich.[423]
So, therefore, when as reserved a man as Washington had finally and with
great effort trained himself to be, asked in writing, "Where is
Jefferson?" is it not a reasonable inference that the Virginia officers
in the familiar talk of comrades, spoke of Jefferson in terms less mild?
And, indeed, where was Thomas Jefferson? After serving in Congress, he
refused point-blank to serve there again and resigned the seat to which
he had been reëlected. "The situation of my domestic affairs renders it
indispensably necessary that I should solicit the substitution of some
other person," was the only excuse Jefferson then gave.[424] He wanted
to go to the State Legislature instead, and to the State Legislature he
went. His "domestic affairs" did not prevent that. In his Autobiography,
written forty-four years afterward (1821), Jefferson declares that he
resigned from Congress and went to the State Legislature because "our
[State] legislation under the regal government had many very vicious
points which urgently required reformation and I thought I could be of
more use in forwarding that work."[425]
So while the British revels were going on in Philadelphia and the
horrors of Valley Forge appeared to be bringing an everlasting night
upon American liberty, and when the desperation of the patriot cause
wrung from the exasperated Washington his appeal that Virginia's ablest
men should strengthen the feeble and tottering Congress, Jefferson was
in the State Legislature. But he was not there merely enjoying office
and exclusively engaged in party politics as Washington more than
intimates. He was starting such vital reforms as the abolition of
entails, the revision of the criminal code, the establishment of a free
school system, the laying of the legal foundations of religious
freedom.[426]
In short, Jefferson was sowing the seeds of liberalism in Virginia. But
it is only human nature that breasts bearing the storm of war should not
have thrilled in admiration of this civil husbandry. It was but natural
that the benumbed men at Valley Forge should think the season early for
the planting of State reforms, however needful, when the very ground of
American independence was cold and still freezing with patriot
misfortune and British success.
Virginia's Legislature might pass all the so-called laws it liked; the
triumph of the British arms would wipe every one of them from the
statute books. How futile, until America was free, must all this
bill-drafting and reforming have appeared to the hard-driven men on the
Schuylkill's Arctic hills! "Here are we," we can hear them say, "in
worse case than most armies have been in the whole history of the world;
here are we at Valley Forge offering our lives, wrecking our health,
losing the little store we have saved up, and doing it gladly for the
common American cause; and there, in safe and comfortable Williamsburg
or at sumptuous Monticello, is the man who wrote our Declaration of
Independence, never venturing within the sound of cannon or smell of
powder and even refusing to go to Congress."
The world knows now that Jefferson was not to be blamed. He was not a
man of arms, dreaded the duties of a soldier, had no stomach for
physical combat.[427] He was a philosopher, not a warrior. He loved to
write theories into laws that correct civil abuses by wholesale, and to
promote the common good by sweeping statutes. Also, he was a born
politician, skillful and adroit in party management above any man in our
history.[428]
But as a man of action in rough weather, as an executive in stern times,
he himself admitted his deficiency.[429] So we know to-day and better
understand this great reformer, whose devotion to human rights has made
men tolerant of his grave personal shortcomings. Nothing of this,
however, could have occurred to the starving, shivering patriot soldiers
in their awful plight at Valley Forge. Winning the war was their only
thought, as always is the soldier's way.
Early in April, 1778, when, but for the victory at Saratoga, the
Revolution seemed well-nigh hopeless to all but the stoutest hearts, an
old and valued English friend begged Washington to give up the
apparently doomed American cause. The Reverend Andrew Burnaby appealed
to him for American and British reunion. "Must the parent and the child
be forever at variance? And can either of them be happy, independent of
the other?" The interests of the two countries are the same; "united
they will constitute the fairest and happiest state in the world;
divided they will be quite the reverse. It is not even possible that
America should be happy, unconnected with Great Britain." In case
America should win, the States will fall asunder from civil discord. The
French, "that false and treacherous people," will desert the Americans.
Great Britain and America have "the same interest, the same lineage, the
same language, the same liberty, the same religion, connecting them."
Everybody in England wants reunion; even the Government is anxious to
"rectify ... errors and misunderstandings." It is time to "heal the
wounds on both sides." Washington can achieve this "divine purpose" and
"thereby acquire more glory and confer more real and lasting service,
both to your own country and to mankind in general than ... ever yet
happened to the lot of any one man."[430]
This subtle plea, designed to prepare the way for the British
"Commission of Conciliation," neither flattered nor tempted Washington.
It insulted him. He acted more vigorously than ever; and, soon
afterward, his answer was delivered with cannon and bayonet on the field
of Monmouth.[431]
When the winter had passed, Washington once more appealed to Congress to
cease its bickering and indecision. That body was jealous of the army,
he declared, whereas, said he, "We should all be considered, Congress
and Army, as one people, embarked in one cause, in one interest; acting
on the same principle, and to the same end"--a philosophy which a young
Virginia officer was then absorbing and continued to absorb, until it
became the ruling force in his life.
"No history extant," continues Washington, "can furnish an instance of
an army's suffering such uncommon hardships ... and bearing them with
the same patience and fortitude. To see men without clothes to cover
their nakedness, without blankets to lie on, without shoes, by 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 they
could be built, and submitting to it without a murmur, is proof of
patience and obedience which, in my opinion can scarce be
paralleled."[432]
Further shaming Congress into action, Washington says that "with us ...
the officer ... must break in upon his private fortune for present
support, without a prospect of future relief"; while, with the British,
company commands "are esteemed so honorable and so valuable that they
have sold of late from fifteen to twenty-two hundred pounds sterling
and ... four thousand guineas have been given for a troop of
dragoons."[433]
Finally came the spring of 1778. The spirits of the men rose with the
budding of the trees. Games and sport alternated with drill and policing
of the camp. The officers made matches for quoits, running, and jumping.
Captain-Lieutenant Marshall was the best athlete in his regiment. He
could vault over a pole "laid on the heads of two men as high as
himself." A supply from home had reached him at last, it appears, and in
it were socks. So sometimes Marshall ran races in his stocking feet. In
knitting this foot apparel, his mother had made the heels of white yarn,
which showed as he ran. Thus came his soldier nickname of "Silver
Heels."[434]
As spring advanced, the troops recovered their strength and, finally,
were ready and eager again to meet the enemy. Washington had persuaded
General Greene to accept the vital office of Quartermaster-General; and
food, clothing, and munitions had somewhat relieved the situation.[435]
Baron von Steuben had wrought wonders in the drill and discipline of the
men and in the officers' knowledge of their technical duties.[436] "I
should do injustice if I were to be longer silent with regard to the
merits of the Baron de [von] Steuben" Washington told Congress, in
hearty appreciation of the Prussian general's services.[437]
Another event of immense importance cheered the patriot forces and
raised patriot hopes throughout America. The surrender of Burgoyne had
encouraged the French statesmen to attempt the injury of England by
helping the revolting colonies. On May 6, 1778, the treaty of alliance
with Louis XVI was laid before Congress.[438] The miseries of the past
winter were forgotten by the army at Valley Forge in the joy over the
French Monarch's open championship of the American cause and his attack
upon the British.[439] For it meant trained troops, ships of war,
munitions, and money. It meant more--it signified, in the end, war by
France upon England.
The hills of Valley Forge were vocal with huzzas and the roar of cannon.
Songs filled the air. The army paraded. Sermons were preached. The
rebound went to heights of enthusiasm equaling the former depths of
despair.[440] Marshall, we may be sure, joined with his characteristic
zest in the patriots' revel of happiness. Washington alone had
misgivings. He feared that, because of the French alliance, Congress and
the States would conclude that "we have nothing more to do" and so
"relapse into a state of supineness and perfect security."[441]
Precisely this occurred.
Soon, however, other inspiriting tidings came--the British, it was said,
were about to quit Philadelphia. The gayety in that city had continued
throughout the winter, and just before the evacuation, reached its
climax in a festival of almost unbelievable opulence and splendor.
Processions of flower-decked boats, choruses, spectacles, and parades
crowded the day; dancing and music came with sunset, and at midnight,
lighted by hundreds of wax candles, twelve hundred people sat down to a
dinner of Oriental luxury served by negroes clad in the rich costumes of
the East "with silver collars and bracelets."[442]
When, on June 18, the Royal forces abandoned the city, the Americans
were quick in pursuit. On June 28, a day of blistering heat, the battle
of Monmouth was fought. That scorching Sunday "was long remembered all
over the United States as the most sultry day which had ever been
endured since mankind learned to read the thermometer."[443]
It must have been very hot indeed, for Marshall himself speaks of "the
intense heat";[444] and he disliked extreme terms. Marshall was one of
the advance guard[445] under Wayne, with Lee in command of the division.
In a previous council of war most of the higher officers were decidedly
against risking the action; but Washington overruled them and ordered
Lee to attack the British force "the moment it should move from its
ground."[446]
The Commander-in-Chief, with the main body of American troops, was to
come to Lee's support. It is unnecessary to go over the details of Lee's
unhappy blunder, his retreat, Washington's Berserker rage and stinging
rebuke on the battlefield in sight and hearing of officer and private,
the turning of the rout into attack, and attack into victory by the
sheer masterfulness of the mighty Virginian. From ten o'clock until
nightfall the conflict raged, the Americans generally successful.
The overpowering sun made the action all but insufferable. Many died
from the effects of the furnace-like heat. The fighting was heavy and
often hand to hand. Throughout the day Washington was the very soul of
battle. His wrath at Lee's retreat unleashed the lion in him. He rode
among the troops inspiring, calming, strengthening, steadying. Perhaps
at no time in his life, except at Braddock's defeat, was his peculiar
combination of cool-headed generalship and hot-blooded love of combat so
manifest in a personal way as on this blazing June day at Monmouth.
"Never," testifies Lafayette, who commanded part of the advance and
fought through the whole battle, "was General Washington greater in war
than in this action. His presence stopped the retreat. His dispositions
fixed the victory. His fine appearance on horseback, his calm courage,
roused by the animation produced by the vexation of the morning, gave
him the air best calculated to excite enthusiasm."[447]
When Washington was preparing the final stroke, darkness fell. The
exhausted Americans, their clothing drenched with sweat, slept on their
arms upon the field of battle, their General-in-Chief himself lying on
the ground among the living, the wounded, and the dead. Somewhere on
that hard-fought ground, Captain-Lieutenant John Marshall stretched
himself by his comrades. Washington was determined to press the attack
at break of day. But at midnight the British stole away so silently that
the Americans did not hear a sound from their retreat.[448] The
Americans lost eight officers and sixty-one privates killed, one
hundred and sixty wounded, and one hundred and thirty missing. The
British left more than two hundred and fifty dead upon the field.[449]
Upon Charles Lee most accounts of the battle of Monmouth have placed the
brand of infamy. But John Marshall did not condemn Lee utterly. There
were, it appears, two sides of the business--the difficulty of the
ground, the mistake made by Scott, a reinforcement of the British rear,
and other incidents.[450] These appealed even to Washington when the
calm of judgment returned to him after the battle was fought and his
blazing wrath had cooled; and had Lee not sent insulting letters to the
Commander-in-Chief, it is probable that no further action would have
been taken.[451]
Marshall had been in the fight from first to last; he had retreated
unwillingly with the other five thousand men whom Lee commanded; he was
a fighting man, always eager for the shock of arms; he cherished a
devotion to Washington which was the ruling attachment of his
life--nevertheless, Marshall felt that more was made of Lee's misconduct
than the original offense deserved. Writing as the chosen biographer of
Washington, Marshall gives both sides of this controversy.[452]
This incident throws light upon Marshall's temperament. Other historians
in their eulogy of Washington, have lashed the memory of Lee naked
through the streets of public scorn. Marshall refuses to join the chorus
of denunciation. Instead, he states the whole case with fairness.[453]
Three days after Monmouth, he was promoted to a full captaincy;[454]
and, as we have seen, he had been made Deputy Judge Advocate at Valley
Forge. Holding these two offices, Marshall continued his military
service.
The alliance with the French King, followed by the American success at
Monmouth, lulled the patriots into an unwarranted feeling of security.
Everybody seemed to think the war was over. Congress became more
lethargic than ever, the States more torpid and indifferent. The British
had seized the two points commanding King's Ferry on the North River,
thus cutting the communication between the small American forces on
opposite sides of the Hudson.[455] To restore this severed connection
was important; and it was essential to arouse once more the declining
interest of the people. Washington resolved to take Stony Point, the
then well-nigh impregnable position dominating King's Ferry from the New
Jersey side.
A body of light infantry was carefully selected from all ranks. It was
the flower of Washington's troops in health, stability, courage, and
discipline. Upon this "_élite_ of the army," says Dawson, "the safety
of the Highlands and, indirectly, that of the cause of America, were
dependent."[456] This corps of picked soldiers was intended for quick
and desperate enterprises of extra hazard. John Marshall was one of
those selected.[457] Their first notable task was to take Stony Point by
assault. Anthony Wayne was placed in command. "I have much at heart,"
Washington told Wayne, in the capture of this position, "the importance
of which ... is too obvious to need explanation."[458]
Yet even to these men on missions of such moment, supplies came tardily
and in scant quantities. Wayne's "men were almost naked."[459]
Finally, on June 15, 1779, the time came for the storming of the fort.
It was washed on three sides by the waters of the Hudson and a marsh
separated it from the solid land on the west. Heavy guns were on the
great hill of rock; lighter batteries were placed on its slope; two rows
of abatis were farther down; and the British ships in the river
commanded almost every point of attack.[460]
A party of Wayne's men was detailed to remove obstructions, capture the
sentries, and, in general, prepare the way for the assault by the first
detachment of the Light Infantry, which was to advance with unloaded
muskets, depending exclusively on the bayonet.[461] The fort was taken
by those assigned to make the initial attempt, Colonel Fleury being the
first to enter the stronghold. Below at the edge of the marsh waited the
major part of Wayne's little force, among whom was the future Chief
Justice of the United States.
If the state of Wayne's nerves is an indication, we know how the young
Virginia captain felt, there in the midnight, holding himself in
readiness for the order to advance. For early in the evening Wayne thus
wrote to his brother-in-law: "This will not reach your eye until the
Writer is no mor^e--the Enclosed papers ... [will] enable [you] to
defend the Character and Support the Honor of the man who ... fell in
defense of his Country.... Attend to the Education of my Little _Son &
Daughter_--I fear that their tender Mother will not Survive this
Stroke."[462] But the British were overcome more easily than anybody had
thought possible,[463] and, though wounded, Wayne survived to give more
displays of his genuine heroism, while Providence spared John Marshall
for a no less gallant and immeasurably greater part in the making of the
American Nation.[464]
But the brilliant exploit went for nothing. The Americans failed to take
Verplanck's Point on the eastern bank of the river and the patriot
forces were still separated. Unable to spare enough men to garrison
Stony Point permanently and since the Ferry remained under the British
guns, Washington moved his army to the Highlands. The British at once
reoccupied the abandoned fort which Wayne's men had just captured.
A detail from the Light Infantry was placed under Major Henry Lee of
Virginia, who was instructed to watch the main forces of the enemy.
Among Lee's flying detachment was Captain John Marshall. For three weeks
this scouting expedition kept moving among the ravines, hills, and
marshes, always in close touch with the British. "At Powles Hook, a
point of land on the west side of the Hudson, immediately opposite the
town of New York, penetrating deep into the river,"[465] the enemy had
erected works and garrisoned them with several hundred men. The British
had made the Hook an island by digging a deep ditch through which the
waters of the river flowed; and otherwise had rendered their position
secure.
The daring Lee resolved to surprise and capture the defending force, and
Washington, making sure of lines of retreat, approved the adventure. All
night of August 18, 1779, Lee's men marched stealthily among the steep
hills, passed the main body of the British army who were sleeping
soundly; and at three o'clock in the morning crossed the ditch, entered
the works, and carried away one hundred and fifty-nine prisoners, losing
in the swift, silent effort only two killed and three wounded.[466] This
audacious feat fired the spirits of the patriot forces and covered the
British with humiliation and chagrin.
Here, except for a small incident in Arnold's invasion of Virginia, John
Marshall's active participation in actual warfare ended. He was sent
home[467] because of the expiration of the term of enlistments of the
regiments in which he had commanded and the excess of officers which
this created.[468] The Revolution dragged along; misfortune and
discouragement continued to beat upon the granite Washington. The
support of Louis XVI was a staff upon which, substantial as it was, the
people of the States leaned too heavily. Their exertions relaxed, as we
have seen; Jefferson, patriot and reformer, but not efficient as an
executive, was Governor of Virginia; and John Marshall waited in vain
for the new command which never appeared.
On December 30, 1780, Jefferson received positive news of Arnold's
invasion.[469] He had been warned by Washington that just this event was
likely to occur;[470] but he had not summoned to the colors a single man
of the militia, probably fifty thousand of whom were available,[471] nor
taken any measures to prepare for it. Not until the hostile vessels
entered Virginia waters to disembark the invading force was General
Nelson sent to watch the enemy and call out the local militia of the
adjacent vicinity; and not until news came that the British were on
their way up the James River did the Governor summon the militia of the
neighboring counties. The Royal soldiers reached Richmond on January 4,
1781, without opposition; there Arnold burned some military factories
and munitions, and returned down the river. John Marshall hastened to
the point of danger, and was one of the small American force that
ambushed the British some distance below Westover, but that scattered in
panic at the first fire of the invaders.[472]
Jefferson's conduct at this time and especially during the subsequent
invasion of the State has given an unhappy and undeserved coloring to
his personal character.[473] It all but led to his impeachment by the
Virginia Legislature;[474] and to this day his biographers are
needlessly explanatory and apologetic in regard to this phase of his
career. These incidents confirmed the unfortunate impressions of
Jefferson which Marshall and nearly all the Virginia officers and
soldiers had formed at Valley Forge. Very few of them afterward changed
their unfavorable opinion.[475]
It was his experience, then, on the march, in camp, and on the
battlefield, that taught John Marshall the primary lesson of the
necessity of efficient government. Also his military life developed his
real temperament, which was essentially conservative. He had gone into
the army, as he himself declared, with "wild and enthusiastic
notions,"[476] unlike those of the true Marshall. It did not occur to
this fighting Virginia youth when, responding to Patrick Henry's call,
he marched southward under the coiled-rattlesnake flag inscribed "Don't
tread on me," that anything was needed except to drive the oppressor
into the sea. A glorious, vague "liberty" would do the rest, thought the
stripling backwoods "shirtman," as indeed almost all of those who
favored the patriot cause seemed to think.[477]
And when in blue and buff, as an officer of the Continental army, he
joined Washington, the boyish Virginia lieutenant was still a frontier
individualist, though of the moderate type. But four years of fighting
and suffering showed him that, without a strong and practical
government, democracy cannot solve its giant problems and orderly
liberty cannot live. The ramshackle Revolutionary establishment was, he
found, no government at all. Hundreds of instances of its incredible
dissensions and criminal inefficiency faced him throughout these four
terrible years; and Marshall has recorded many of them.
Not only did each State do as it pleased, as we have seen, but these
pompous sovereignties actually interfered in direct and fatal fashion
with the Continental army itself. For example, when the soldiers of the
line from one State happened to be in another State, the civil power of
the latter often "attempted to interfere and to discharge them,
notwithstanding the fact that they were not even citizens of that
State."[478] The mutiny of underfed, poorly clothed, unpaid troops, even
in the State lines; the yielding of Congress to their demands, which,
though just in themselves, it was perilous to grant on compulsion;[479]
the discontent of the people caused by the forcible State seizure of
supplies,--a seizure which a strong National Government could not have
surpassed in harshness,[480]--were still other illustrations of the
absolute need of an efficient central power. A few "judicious patriots"
did urge the strengthening of National authority, but, writes Marshall,
they were helpless to "correct that fatal disposition of power [by
States and Congress] which had been made by enthusiasm uninstructed by
experience."[481] Time and again Marshall describes the utter absence of
civil and military correlations and the fearful results he had felt and
witnessed while a Revolutionary officer.
Thus it is that, in his service as a soldier in the War for our
Independence, we find the fountain-head of John Marshall's National
thinking. And every succeeding circumstance of his swift-moving and
dramatic life made plainer and clearer the lesson taught him on red
battlefield and in fetid camp. No one can really understand Marshall's
part in the building of the American Nation without going back to these
sources. For, like all living things, Marshall's constructive opinions
were not made; they grew. They were not the exclusive result of
reasoning; they were the fruit of an intense and vivid human experience
working upon a mind and character naturally cautious, constructive, and
inclined to order and authority.
FOOTNOTES:
[355] It appears that, throughout the Revolution, Pennsylvania's
metropolis was noted for its luxury. An American soldier wrote in 1779:
"Philada. may answer very well for a man with his pockets well lined,
whose pursuit is idleness and dissipation. But to us who are not in the
first predicament, and who are not upon the latter errand, it is
intolerable.... A morning visit, a dinner at 5 o'clock--Tea at 8 or
9--supper and up all night is the round _die in diem_.... We have
advanced as far in luxury in the third year of our Indepeny. as the old
musty Republics of Greece and Rome did in twice as many hundreds."
(Tilghman to McHenry, Jan. 25, 1799; Steiner, 25.)
[356] Trevelyan, iv, 279.
[357] _Ib._, 280.
[358] _Ib._
[359] The influence of Margaret Shippen in causing Arnold's treason is
now questioned by some. (See Avery, vi, 243-49.)
[360] Trevelyan, iv, 281-82.
[361] _Ib._, 278-80.
[362] _Ib._, 268-69; also Marshall, i, 215. The German countrymen,
however, were loyal to the patriot cause. The Moravians at Bethlehem,
though their religion forbade them from bearing arms, in another way
served as effectually as Washington's soldiers. (See Trevelyan, iv,
298-99.)
[363] Trevelyan, iv, 290.
[364] The huts were fourteen by sixteen feet, and twelve soldiers
occupied each hut. (Sparks, 245.)
[365] "The men were literally naked [Feb. 1] some of them in the fullest
extent of the word." (Von Steuben, as quoted in Kapp, 118.)
[366] _Hist. Mag._, v, 170.
[367] Washington to President of Congress, Dec. 23, 1777; _Writings_:
Ford, vi, 260.
[368] Marshall, i, 213.
[369] _Ib._, 215.
[370] Washington to President of Congress, Dec. 23, 1777; _Writings_:
Ford, vi, 258.
[371] "The poor soldiers were half naked, and had been half starved,
having been compelled, for weeks, to subsist on simple flour alone and
this too in a land almost literally flowing with milk and honey."
(Watson's description after visiting the camp, Watson, 63.)
[372] Marshall (1st ed.), iii, 341.
[373] _Hist. Mag._, v, 131.
[374] _Ib._
[375] _Ib._, 132.
[376] _Hist. Mag._, v, 132-33.
[377] _Hist. Mag._, v, 131-32.
[378] Trevelyan, iv, 297.
[379] _Ib._ For putrid condition of the camp in March and April, 1778,
see Weedon, 254-55 and 288-89.
[380] Trevelyan, iv, 298.
[381] _Ib._
[382] Personal narrative; Shreve, _Mag. Amer. Hist._, Sept., 1897, 568.
[383] Trevelyan, iv, 298.
[384] Washington to President of Congress, Dec. 22, 1777; _Writings_:
Ford, vi, 253.
[385] Washington to President of Congress, Dec. 23, 1777; _ib._, 257.
[386] General Varnum to General Greene, Feb. 12, 1778, Washington MSS.,
Lib. Cong., no. 21. No wonder the desertions were so great. It was not
only starvation and death but the hunger-crazed soldiers "had daily
temptations thrown out to them of the most alluring nature," by the
British and Loyalists. (Chastellux, translator's note to 51.)
[387] Marshall, i, 227.
[388] _Ib._
[389] _Hist. Mag._, v, 132. This is, probably, an exaggeration. The
British were extremely harsh, however, as is proved by the undenied
testimony of eye-witnesses and admittedly authentic documentary
evidence. For their treatment of American prisoners see Dandridge:
_American Prisoners of the Revolution_, a trustworthy compilation of
sources. For other outrages see Clark's Diary, _Proc._, N.J. Hist. Soc.,
vii, 96; Moore's _Diary_, ii, 183. For the Griswold affair see Niles:
_Principles and Acts of the Revolution_, 143-44. For transportation of
captured Americans to Africa and Asia see Franklin's letter to Lord
Stormont, April 2, 1777; Franklin's _Writings_: Smyth, vii, 36-38; also
Moore's _Diary_, i, 476. For the murder of Jenny M'Crea see Marshall, i,
200, note 9, Appendix, 25; and Moore's _Diary_, i, 476; see also Miner:
_History of Wyoming_, 222-36; and British officer's letter to Countess
of Ossory, Sept. 1, 1777; _Pa. Mag. Hist. and Biog._, i, footnote to
289; and Jefferson to Governor of Detroit, July 22, 1779; _Cal. Va. St.
Prs._, i, 321. For general statement see Marshall (1st ed.), iii, 59.
These are but a few of the many similar sources that might be cited.
[390] Trevelyan, iv, 299.
[391] Marshall, i, 227.
[392] John Marshall's father was also at Valley Forge during the first
weeks of the encampment and was often Field Officer of the Day.
(Weedon.) About the middle of January he left for Virginia to take
command of the newly raised State Artillery Regiment. (Memorial of
Thomas Marshall; _supra._) John Marshall's oldest brother, Thomas
Marshall, Jr., seventeen years of age, was commissioned captain in a
Virginia State Regiment at this time. (Heitman, 285.) Thus all the male
members of the Marshall family, old enough to bear arms, were officers
in the War of the Revolution. This important fact demonstrates the
careful military training given his sons by Thomas Marshall before
1775--a period when comparatively few believed that war was probable.
[393] This was the common lot; Washington told Congress that, of the
thousands of his men at Valley Forge, "few men have more than one shirt,
many only the moiety of one and some none at all." (Washington to
President of Congress, Dec. 23, 1777; _Writings_: Ford, vi, 260.)
[394] Slaughter, 107-08.
[395] Howe, 266.
[396] Slaughter, 108.
[397] Weedon, 134; also, Heitman, 285.
[398] _Ib._
[399] Description of Marshall at Valley Forge by eye-witness, in _North
American Review_ (1828), xxvi, 8.
[400] Ninth Virginia. (Heitman, 72.)
[401] _North American Review_ (1828), xxvi, 8.
[402] Weedon, Feb. 8, 1778, 226-27. Washington took the severest
measures to keep officers from associating with private soldiers.
[403] _Ib._, 227-28.
[404] _Ib._, Jan. 5, 1778; 180.
[405] See Washington's affecting appeal to the soldiers at Valley Forge
to keep up their spirits and courage. (Weedon, March 1, 1778, 245-46.)
[406] Channing, ii, 559.
[407] See Rush's anonymous letter to Henry and the correspondence
between Henry and Washington concerning the cabal. (Henry, i, 544-51.)
[408] Marshall, i, 217.
[409] Trevelyan, iv, 301.
[410] _Ib._, 303-04.
[411] "The idea that any one Man Alone can save us is too silly for any
Body but such weak Men as Duché to harbor for a Moment." (Adams to Rush,
Feb. 8, 1778; _Old Family Letters_, 11; and see Lodge: _Washington_, i,
208; also Wallace, chap. ix.)
[412] Sparks, 252; and Marshall, i, 218.
[413] Washington to President of Congress, Dec. 23, 1777; _Writings_:
Ford, vi, 257-65. And see Washington's comprehensive plans for the
reorganization of the entire military service. (Washington to Committee
of Congress, Jan. 28, 1778; _ib._, 300-51.)
[414] _Hist. Mag._, v, 131.
[415] On April 10, 1778, Ædanus Burke of South Carolina broke a quorum
and defied Congress. (Secret Journals of Congress, April 10, 11, 24, 25,
1778, i, 62; and see Hatch, 21.)
[416] Trevelyan, iv, 291-92.
[417] Washington to Harrison, Dec. 18, 1778; _Writings_: Ford, vii,
297-98.
[418] _Ib._
[419] At this period and long after a State was referred to as "the
country."
[420] Washington to Harrison, Dec. 18, 1778; _Writings_: Ford, vii,
297-98.
[421] Until after Jefferson's Presidency, our statesmen often spoke of
our "empire." Jefferson used the term frequently.
[422] Washington to Harrison, Dec. 18, 1778; _Writings_: Ford, vii,
301-02.
[423] "My estate is a large one ... to wit upwards of ten thousand acres
of valuable land on the navigable parts of the James river and two
hundred negroes and not a shilling out of it is or ever was under any
incumbrance for debt." (Jefferson to Van Staphorst and Hubbard, Feb. 28,
1790; _Works_: Ford, vi, 33.) At the time of Valley Forge Jefferson's
estate was much greater, for he had sold a great deal of land since
1776. (See Jefferson to Lewis, July 29, 1787; _ib._, v, 311.)
[424] Jefferson to Pendleton, July, 1776; _ib._, ii, 219-20.
[425] Jefferson's _Autobiography_; _Works_: Ford, i, 57.
[426] Tucker, i, 92 _et seq._; Randall, i, 199 _et seq._; _Works_: Ford,
ii, 310, 323, 324.
[427] Bloodshed, however, Jefferson thought necessary. See _infra_, vol.
II, chap. I.
[428] See vol. II of this work.
[429] Jefferson's _Autobiography_; _Works_: Ford, i, 79.
[430] Burnaby to Washington, April 9, 1788; _Cor. Rev._: Sparks, ii,
100-02. Washington sent no written answer to Burnaby.
[431] See _infra_.
[432] Washington to Banister, April 21, 1778; _Writings_: Ford, vi,
477-87. In thus trying to arouse Congress to a sense of duty, Washington
exaggerates the patience of his troops. They complained bitterly; many
officers resigned and privates deserted in large numbers. (See _supra_.)
[433] _Ib._
[434] Thayer, 12. For camp sports, see Waldo's poem, _Hist. Mag._, vii,
272-74.
[435] Lossing, ii, 595, _et seq._
[436] Marshall, i, 230. And see Hatch's clear account of the training
given by this officer (63). To the work of Von Steuben was due the
excellent discipline under fire at Monmouth. And see Kapp, already
cited; and Bolton, 132. Even Belcher says that our debt to Von Steuben
is as great as that to Lafayette. (Belcher, ii, 14.)
[437] Washington to President of Congress, April 30, 1778; _Writings_:
Ford, vi, 507, and footnote to 505-06. And see Channing, iii, 292.
[438] See Channing, iii, 286, 288; and Marshall, i, 235, 236.
[439] Marshall, i, 237.
[440] Sparks, 267; and Moore's _Diary_, i, 48-50.
[441] Washington to McDougall, May 5, 1778; _Writings_: Ford, vii, 6.
Washington was advised of the treaty with the French King before it was
formally presented to Congress.
[442] Description by Major André, who took part in this amazing
performance, reprinted in _American Historical and Literary
Curiosities_, following plate 26. And see Moore's _Diary_, ii, 52-56.
[443] Trevelyan, iv, 376.
[444] Marshall, i, 252.
[445] Marshall speaks of "one thousand select men" under Wayne;
Maxwell's division was with Wayne under Lee; Marshall was in the battle,
and it seems certain that he was among Wayne's "select men" as on former
and later occasions.
[446] Marshall, i, 252.
[447] Lafayette to Marshall; Marshall, i, footnote to 255.
[448] Marshall, i, 254-59.
[449] For descriptions of the battle of Monmouth see Washington to
President of Congress, July 1, 1778; _Writings_: Ford, vii, 76-86; and
to John Augustine Washington, July 4, 1778; _ib._, 89-92. Also Marshall,
i, 251-56; Trevelyan, iv, 376-80; Irving, iii, 423-34; Sparks, 272-78;
Lossing, ii, 354-65.
[450] Marshall, i, 251-56.
[451] _Ib._, 257.
[452] _Ib._, 257-58.
[453] Girardin follows Marshall in his fair treatment of Lee. (Burk, iv,
290.)
[454] He was promoted July 1, 1778. (Heitman, 285.)
[455] The whole patriot army everywhere, except in the extreme south and
west, now numbered only sixteen thousand men. (Marshall, i, 306-07.)
[456] The fullest and most accurate account of the capture of Stony
Point, and conditions immediately preceding, is given by Dawson in his
_Assault on Stony Point_.
[457] Binney, in Dillon, iii, 315-16. The care in the selection of the
various commands of "light infantry," so often used by Washington after
the first year of the war, is well illustrated by his orders in this
case. "The officers commanding regiments," runs Washington's orders,
"will be particularly careful in the choice of the men.... The Adjutant
General is desired to pass the men ... under critical inspection, and
return all who on any account shall appear unfit for this kind of
service to their regiments, to be replaced by others whom he shall
approve." (Washington's Order Book, iii, 110-11; MS., Lib. Cong.)
[458] Washington to Wayne (Private and Confidential), July 1, 1779;
Dawson, 18-19.
[459] Dawson, 20. Wayne's demand for sustenance and clothing, however,
is amusing. "The Light Corps under my Command," writes Wayne, "... have
had but two days fresh Provision ... nor more than three days allowance
of Rum _in twelve days_, which article I borrowed from Gen^l McDougall
with a Promise to Replace it. I owe him Seventy five Gallons--must
therefore desire you to forward three Hod^{ds} [hogsheads] of Rum to
this place with all possible Dispatch together with a few fat sheep &
ten Head of good Cattle." (Wayne to Issuing Commissary, July 9, 1779;
_ib._, 20-21.)
Wayne wrote to Washington concerning clothing: "I have an [word
illegible] Prejudice in favor of an Elegant Uniform & Soldierly
Appearance--... I would much rathar risque my life and Reputation at the
Head of the same men in an Attack Clothed & Appointed as I could
wish--with a Single Charge of Ammunition--than to take them as they
appear in Common with Sixty Rounds of Cartridges." (Dawson, 20-21.)
Washington wrote in reply: "I agree perfectly with you." (_Ib._, 21.)
[460] Marshall, i, 310.
[461] Wayne's order of battle was as picturesque as it was specific.
Officer and private were directed "to fix a Piece of White paper in the
most Conspicuous part of his Hat or Cap ... their Arms unloaded placing
their whole Dependence on the Bay^t.... If any Soldier presumes to take
his Musket from his Shoulder or Attempt to fire or begin the battle
until Ordered by his proper Officer he shall be Instantly put to death
by the Officer next him.... Should any Soldier ... attempt to Retreat
one Single foot or Sculk in the face of danger, the Officer next to him
is Immediately to put him to death." (_Ib._, 35-38.)
[462] Wayne to Delaney, July 15, 1779; Dawson, 46-47.
[463] The generous and even kindly treatment which the Americans
accorded the vanquished British is in striking contrast with the
latter's treatment of Americans under similar circumstances. When the
fort was taken, the British cried, "_Mercy, mercy, dear, dear
Americans_," and not a man was injured by the victors after he ceased to
resist. (Dawson, 53; and Marshall, i, 311.)
[464] The fort was captured so quickly that the detachment to which
Marshall was assigned had no opportunity to advance.
[465] Marshall, i, 314.
[466] _Ib._, 314-16.
[467] The rolls show Marshall in active service as captain until
December 9, 1779. (Records, War Dept.) He retired from the service
February 12, 1781. (Heitman, 285.)
[468] Binney, in Dillon, iii, 290. There often were more officers of a
State line than there were men to be officered; this was caused by
expiring enlistments of regiments.
[469] Tucker, i, 136.
[470] Marshall, i, 418.
[471] _Ib._, 139.
[472] Marshall, i, 419; Binney, in Dillon, iii, 290.
[473] Even the frightened Virginia women were ashamed. "Such terror and
confusion you have no idea of. Governor, Council, everybody
scampering.... How dreadful the idea of an enemy passing through such a
country as ours committing enormities that fill the mind with horror and
returning exultantly without meeting one impediment to discourage them."
(Eliza Ambler to Mildred Smith, 1781 MS. Also _Atlantic Monthly_,
lxxxiv, 538-39.) Miss Ambler was amused, too, it seems. She humorously
describes a boastful man's precipitate flight and adds: "But this is not
more laughable than the accounts we have of our illustrious G-[overno]-r
[Jefferson] who, they say, took neither rest nor food for man or horse
till he reached C-[arte]-r's mountain." (_Ib._) This letter, as it
appears in the _Atlantic Monthly_, differs slightly from the manuscript,
which has been followed in this note.
These letters were written while the laughing young Tarleton was riding
after the flying Virginia Government, of which Eliza Ambler's father was
a part. They throw peculiar light on the opinions of Marshall, who at
that time was in love with this lady's sister, whom he married two years
later. (See _infra_, chap. v.)
[474] An inquiry into Jefferson's conduct was formally moved in the
Virginia Legislature. But the matter was not pressed and the next year
the Legislature passed a resolution of thanks for Jefferson's
"impartial, upright, and attentive Administration." (See Eckenrode's
thorough treatment of the subject in his _Revolution in Virginia_, chap.
vii. And see Tucker, i, 149-56, for able defense of Jefferson; and Dodd,
63-64; also Ambler, 37.)
[475] Monroe, Bland, and Grayson are the only conspicuous exceptions.
[476] Story, in Dillon, iii, 338.
[477] This prevalent idea is well stated in one of Mrs. Carrington's
unpublished letters. "What sacrifice would not an American, or Virginian
(even) at the earliest age have made for so desireable an end--young as
I was [twelve years old when the war began] the Word Liberty so
_continually_ sounding in my ears seemed to convey an idea of everything
that was desirable on earth--true that in attaining it, I was to see
every present comfort abandoned; a charming home where peace and
prosperous fortune afforded all the elegancies of life, where nature and
art united to render our residence delightful, where my ancestors had
acquired wealth, and where my parents looked forward to days of ease and
comfort, all this was to be given up; but in infancy the love of change
is so predominant that we lose sight of consequences and are willing to
relinquish present good for the sake of novelty, this was particularly
the case with me." (Mrs. Carrington to her sister Nancy, March, 1809;
MS.; and see _infra_, chap. VIII.)
[478] Marshall, i, 355-65.
[479] _Ib._, 422-24.
[480] _Ib._, 425.
[481] Marshall, i, 425.