commander, is highly improbable. We must remember that Sir William Howe,
the Whig general, had just gone home to defend his military conduct
against the fierce attacks of the King's party; and his successor, Sir
Henry Clinton, was not only a Tory, but the personal relations between
the two men were not altogether friendly. It is therefore hardly
credible that Clinton could have known anything about Lee's coöperation
with Howe. If he had known it, we may be sure that the secret would not
have lain buried for eighty years. It is much more likely that since the
disastrous failure of Lee's military advice he was reduced to painful
insignificance in the British camp, and was thus prepared to welcome an
opportunity for trying his fortune once more with the Americans. Indeed,
the circumstances were such as hardly to leave him any choice in the
matter. As a prisoner of war, he must submit to exchange. The only way
to avoid it was to make a public avowal of having abandoned the American
service and cast in his lot with the British. But such an avowal would
at once withdraw from him General Washington's protection, and thus
leave him liable to be tried as a deserter and shot for the
gratification of George III. On the whole, as the event proved, there
was more safety for Lee in following Fortune's lead back into the
American camp. He came with the renewed hope of supplanting Washington
uppermost in his breast. As for Clinton, there is nothing to indicate
collusion between him and the traitor, but he had probably seen and
heard enough to confirm the declared opinion of Sir Joseph Yorke, that
such a man as Charles Lee was "the worst present the Americans could
receive."
[Sidenote: Washington pursues the British]
When Philadelphia was evacuated, Lee first tried to throw Washington off
on a false scent by alleging reasons for believing that Clinton did not
intend to retreat across New Jersey. Failing in this, he found reasons
as plentiful as blackberries why the British army should not be followed
up and harassed on its retreat. Then when Washington decided that an
attack must be made, he grew sulky and refused to conduct it. Washington
was marching more rapidly than Clinton, on a line nearly parallel with
him, to the northward, so that by the time the British general reached
Allentown he found his adversary getting in front of him upon his line
of retreat. Clinton had nothing to gain by fighting, if he could
possibly avoid it, and accordingly he turned to the right, following the
road which ran through Monmouth and Middletown to Sandy Hook. Washington
now detached a force of about 5,000 men to advance swiftly and cut off
the enemy's rear, while he designed to come up and support the operation
with the rest of his army. To Lee, as second in rank, the command of
this advanced party properly belonged; but he declined to take it, on
the ground that it was sure to be defeated, and Washington entrusted the
movement to the youthful Lafayette, of the soundness of whose judgment
he had already seen many proofs. But in the course of the night it
occurred to Lee, whatever his miserable purpose may have been, that
perhaps he might best accomplish it, after all, by taking the field. So
he told Washington, next morning, that he had changed his mind, and was
anxious to take the command which he had just declined. With
extraordinary forbearance Washington granted his request, and arranged
the affair with such tact as not to wound the feelings of Lafayette,
who thus, unfortunately, lost the direction of the movement.
[Sidenote: His plan of attack]
On the night of June 27th the left wing of the British army, 8,000
strong, commanded by Lord Cornwallis, encamped near Monmouth Court
House, on the road from Allentown. The right wing, of about equal
strength, and composed chiefly of Hessians under Knyphausen, lay just
beyond the Court House on the road to Middletown. In order of march the
right wing took the lead, convoying the immense baggage train. The left
wing, following in the rear, was the part exposed to danger, and with it
stayed Sir Henry Clinton. The American advance under Lee, 6,000 strong,
lay about five miles northeast of the British line, and Washington, with
the main body, was only three miles behind. Lee's orders from Washington
were positive and explicit. He was to gain the flank of the British left
wing and attack it vigorously, until Washington should come up and
complete its discomfiture. Lee's force was ample, in quantity and
quality, for the task assigned it, and there was fair ground for hope
that the flower of the British army might thus be cut off and captured
or destroyed. Since the war began there had hardly been such a golden
opportunity.
[Sidenote: Battle of Monmouth, June 28, 1778]
[Sidenote: Lee's shameful retreat]
Sunday, the 28th of June, was a day of fiery heat, the thermometer
showing 96° in the shade. Early in the morning Clinton moved cautiously.
Knyphausen made all haste forward on the Middletown road, and the left
wing followed till it had passed more than a mile beyond Monmouth Court
House, when it found itself outflanked on the north by the American
columns. Lee had advanced from Freehold church by the main road,
crossing two deep ravines upon causeways; and now, while his left wing
was folding about Cornwallis on the north, occupying superior ground,
his centre, under Wayne, was close behind, and his right, under
Lafayette, had already passed the Court House, and was threatening the
other end of the British line on the south. Cornwallis instantly changed
front to meet the danger on the north, and a detachment was thrown down
the road toward the Court House to check Lafayette. The British position
was one of peril, but the behaviour of the American commander now became
very extraordinary. When Wayne was beginning his attack, he was ordered
by Lee to hold back and simply make a feint, as the main attack was to
be made in another quarter. While Wayne was wondering at this, the
British troops coming down the road were seen directing their march so
as to come between Wayne and Lafayette. It would be easy to check them,
but the marquis had no sooner started than Lee ordered him back,
murmuring about its being impossible to stand against British soldiers.
Lafayette's suspicions were now aroused, and he sent a dispatch in all
haste to Washington, saying that his presence in the field was sorely
needed. The army was bewildered. Fighting had hardly begun, but their
position was obviously so good that the failure to make prompt use of it
suggested some unknown danger. One of the divisions on the left was now
ordered back by Lee, and the others, seeing this retrograde movement,
and understanding it as the prelude to a general retreat, began likewise
to fall back. All thus retreated, though without flurry or disorder, to
the high ground just east of the second ravine which they had crossed in
their advance. All the advantage of their offensive movement was thus
thrown away without a struggle, but the position they had now reached
was excellent for a defensive fight. To the amazement of everybody, Lee
ordered the retreat to be continued across the marshy ravine. As they
crowded upon the causeway the ranks began to fall into some disorder.
Many sank exhausted from the heat. No one could tell from what they were
fleeing, and the exultant ardour with which they had begun to enfold the
British line gave place to bitter disappointment, which vented itself in
passionate curses. So they hurried on, with increasing disorder, till
they approached the brink of the westerly ravine, where their craven
commander met Washington riding up.
[Sidenote: Washington retrieves the situation]
The men who then beheld Washington's face and listened to his outburst
of wrath could never forget it for the rest of their lives. It was one
of those moments that live in tradition. People of to-day, who know
nothing else about Charles Lee, think of him vaguely as the man whom
Washington upbraided at Monmouth. People who know nothing else about the
battle of Monmouth still dimly associate the name with the disgrace of a
General Lee. Not many words were wasted.[17] Leaving the traitor
cowering and trembling in his stirrups, Washington hurried on to rally
the troops and form a new front. There was not a moment to lose, for the
British were within a mile of them, and their fire began before the line
of battle could be formed. To throw a mass of disorderly fugitives in
the face of advancing reinforcements, as Lee had been on the point of
doing, was to endanger the organization of the whole force. It was now
that the admirable results of Steuben's teaching were to be seen. The
retreating soldiers immediately wheeled and formed under fire with as
much coolness and precision as they could have shown on parade, and
while they stopped the enemy's progress, Washington rode back and
brought up the main body of his army. On some heights to the left of the
enemy Greene placed a battery which enfiladed their lines with deadly
effect, while Wayne attacked them vigorously in front. After a brave
resistance, the British were driven back upon the second ravine which
Lee had crossed in the morning's advance. Washington now sent word to
Steuben, who was a couple of miles in the rear, telling him to bring up
three brigades and press the retreating enemy. Some time before this he
had again met Lee and ordered him to the rear, for his suspicion was now
thoroughly aroused. As the traitor rode away from the field, baffled and
full of spite, he met Steuben advancing, and tried to work one final
piece of mischief. He tried to persuade Steuben to halt, alleging that
he must have misunderstood Washington's orders; but the worthy baron was
not to be trifled with, and doggedly kept on his way.[18] The British
were driven in some confusion across the ravine, and were just making a
fresh stand on the high ground east of it when night put an end to the
strife. Washington sent out parties to attack them on both flanks as
soon as day should dawn; but Clinton withdrew in the night, taking with
him many of his wounded men, and by daybreak had joined Knyphausen on
the heights of Middletown, whither it was useless to follow him.
[Portrait: CHARLES LEE]
[Sidenote: It was a drawn battle]
The total American loss in the battle of Monmouth was 362. The British
loss is commonly given as 416, but must have been much greater.
According to Washington's own account, the Americans buried on the
battlefield 245 British dead, but could not count the wounded, as so
many had been carried away; from the ordinary proportion of four or five
wounded to one man killed, he estimates the number at from 1,000 to
1,200.[19] More than 100 of the British were taken prisoners. On both
sides there were many deaths from sunstroke. The battle has usually been
claimed as a victory for the Americans; and so it was in a certain
sense, as they drove the enemy from the field. Strategically considered,
however, Lord Stanhope is quite right in calling it a drawn battle. The
purpose for which Washington undertook it was foiled by the treachery of
Lee. Nevertheless, in view of the promptness with which Washington
turned defeat into victory, and of the greatly increased efficiency
which it showed in the soldiers, the moral advantage was doubtless with
the Americans. It deepened the impression produced by the recovery of
Philadelphia, it silenced the cavillers against Washington,[20] and its
effect upon Clinton's army was disheartening. More than 2,000 of his
men, chiefly Hessians, deserted in the course of the following week.
During the night after the battle, the behaviour of Lee was the theme of
excited discussion among the American officers. By the next day, having
recovered his self-possession, he wrote a petulant letter to Washington,
demanding an apology for his language on the battlefield. Washington's
reply was as follows:--
[Sidenote: Washington's letter to Lee.]
"SIR,--I received your letter, expressed, as I conceive, in terms
highly improper. I am not conscious of making use of any very
singular expressions at the time of meeting you, as you intimate.
What I recollect to have said was dictated by duty and warranted by
the occasion. As soon as circumstances will permit, you shall have
an opportunity of justifying yourself to the army, to Congress, to
America, and to the world in general; or of convincing them that
you were guilty of a breach of orders, and of misbehaviour before
the enemy on the 28th instant, in not attacking them as you had
been directed, and in making an unnecessary, disorderly, and
shameful retreat."
[Sidenote: Trial and sentence of Lee]
To this terrible letter Lee sent the following impudent answer: "You
cannot afford me greater pleasure than in giving me the opportunity of
showing to America the sufficiency of her respective servants. I trust
that temporary power of office and the tinsel dignity attending it will
not be able, by all the mists they can raise, to obfuscate the bright
rays of truth." Washington replied by putting Lee under arrest. A
court-martial was at once convened, before which he was charged with
disobedience of orders in not attacking the enemy, with misbehaviour on
the field in making an unnecessary and shameful retreat, and, lastly,
with gross disrespect to the commander-in-chief. After a painstaking
trial, which lasted more than a month, he was found guilty on all three
charges, and suspended from command in the army _for the term of one
year_.
This absurdly inadequate sentence is an example of the extreme and
sometimes ill-judged humanity which has been wont to characterize
judicial proceedings in America. Many a European soldier has been
ruthlessly shot for less serious misconduct. A commander can be guilty
of no blacker crime than knowingly to betray his trust on the field of
battle. But in Lee's case, the very enormity of his crime went far to
screen him from the punishment which it deserved. People are usually
slow to believe in criminality that goes far beyond the ordinary
wickedness of the society in which they live. If a candidate for
Congress is accused of bribery or embezzlement, we unfortunately find it
easy to believe the charge; but if he were to be accused of attempting
to poison his rival, we should find it very hard indeed to believe it.
In the France of Catherine de' Medici or the Italy of Cæsar Borgia, the
one accusation would have been as credible as the other, but we have
gone far toward outgrowing some of the grosser forms of crime. In
American history, as in modern English history, instances of downright
treason have been very rare; and in proportion as we are impressed with
their ineffable wickedness are we slow to admit the possibility of their
occurrence. In ancient Greece and in mediæval Italy there were many
Benedict Arnolds; in the United States a single plot for surrendering a
stronghold to the enemy has consigned its author to a solitary
immortality of infamy. But unless the proof of Arnold's treason had been
absolutely irrefragable, many persons would have refused to believe it.
In like manner, people were slow to believe that Lee could have been so
deliberately wicked as to plan the defeat of the army in which he held
so high a command, and some historians have preferred to regard his
conduct as wholly unintelligible, rather than adopt the only clue by
which it can be explained. He might have been bewildered, he might have
been afraid, he might have been crazy, it was suggested; and to the
latter hypothesis his well-known eccentricity gave some countenance. It
was perhaps well for the court-martial to give him the benefit of the
doubt, but in any case it should have been obvious that he had proved
himself _permanently_ unfit for a command.
[Illustration: CARICATURE OF CHARLES LEE]
[Sidenote: Lee's character and schemes]
Historians for a long time imitated the clemency of the court-martial by
speaking of the "waywardness" of General Lee. Nearly eighty years
elapsed before the discovery of that document which justifies us in
putting the worst interpretation upon his acts, while it enables us
clearly to understand the motives which prompted them. Lee was nothing
but a selfish adventurer. He had no faith in the principles for which
the Americans were fighting, or indeed in any principles. He came here
to advance his own fortunes, and hoped to be made commander-in-chief.
Disappointed in this, he began at once to look with hatred and envy upon
Washington, and sought to thwart his purposes, while at the same time he
intrigued with the enemy. He became infatuated with the idea of playing
some such part in the American Revolution as Monk had played in the
Restoration of Charles II. This explains his conduct in the autumn of
1776, when he refused to march to the support of Washington. Should
Washington be defeated and captured, then Lee, as next in command and at
the head of a separate army, might negotiate for peace. His conduct as
prisoner in New York, first in soliciting an interview with Congress,
then in giving aid and counsel to the enemy, is all to be explained in
the same way. And his behaviour in the Monmouth campaign was part and
parcel of the same crooked policy. Lord North's commissioners had just
arrived from England to offer terms to the Americans, but in the
exultation over Saratoga and the French alliance, now increased by the
recovery of Philadelphia, there was little hope of their effecting
anything. The spirits of these Yankees, thought Lee, must not be
suffered to rise too high, else they will never listen to reason. So he
wished to build a bridge of gold for Clinton to retreat by; and when he
found it impossible to prevent an attack, his second thoughts led him to
take command, in order to keep the game in his own hands. Should
Washington now incur defeat by adopting a course which Lee had
emphatically condemned as impracticable, the impatient prejudices upon
which the cabal had played might be revived. The downfall of Washington
would perhaps be easy to compass; and the schemer would thus not only
enjoy the humiliation of the man whom he so bitterly hated, but he might
fairly hope to succeed him in the chief command, and thus have an
opportunity of bringing the war to a "glorious" end through a
negotiation with Lord North's commissioners. Such thoughts as these
were, in all probability, at the bottom of Lee's extraordinary behaviour
at Monmouth. They were the impracticable schemes of a vain, egotistical
dreamer. That Washington and Chatham, had that great statesman been
still alive, might have brought the war to an honourable close through
open and frank negotiation was perhaps not impossible. That such a man
as Lee, by paltering with agents of Lord North, should effect anything
but mischief and confusion was inconceivable. But selfishness is always
incompatible with sound judgment, and Lee's wild schemes were quite in
keeping with his character. The method he adopted for carrying them out
was equally so. It would have been impossible for a man of strong
military instincts to have relaxed his clutch upon an enemy in the
field, as Lee did at the battle of Monmouth. If Arnold had been there
that day, with his head never so full of treason, an irresistible
impulse would doubtless have led him to attack the enemy tooth and nail,
and the treason would have waited till the morrow.
[Portrait: John Laurens]
[Sidenote: Lee's expulsion from the army]
[Sidenote: His death]
As usually happens in such cases, the selfish schemer overreached
himself. Washington won a victory, after all; the treachery was
detected, and the traitor disgraced. Maddened by the destruction of his
air-castles, Lee now began writing scurrilous articles in the
newspapers. He could not hear Washington's name mentioned without losing
his temper, and his venomous tongue at length got him into a duel with
Colonel Laurens, one of Washington's aids and son of the president of
Congress. He came out of the affair with nothing worse than a wound in
the side; but when, a little later, he wrote an angry letter to
Congress, he was summarily expelled from the army. "Ah, I see," he said,
aiming a Parthian shot at Washington, "if you wish to become a great
general in America, you must learn to grow tobacco;" and so he retired
to a plantation which he had in the Shenandoah valley. He lived to
behold the triumph of the cause which he had done so much to injure, and
in October, 1782, he died in a mean public-house in Philadelphia,
friendless and alone. His last wish was that he might not be buried in
consecrated ground, or within a mile of any church or meeting-house,
because he had kept so much bad company in this world that he did not
choose to continue it in the next. But in this he was not allowed to
have his way. He was buried in the cemetery of Christ Church in
Philadelphia, and many worthy citizens came to the funeral.
[Illustration: CHRIST CHURCH, PHILADELPHIA]
[Sidenote: The situation at New York]
[Sidenote: The French fleet unable to enter the harbour]
When Washington, after the battle of Monmouth, saw that it was useless
further to molest Clinton's retreat, he marched straight for the Hudson
river, and on the 20th of July he encamped at White Plains, while his
adversary took refuge in New York. The opposing armies occupied the same
ground as in the autumn of 1776; but the Americans were now the
aggressive party. Howe's object in 1776 was the capture of Washington's
army; Clinton's object in 1778 was limited to keeping possession of New
York. There was now a chance for testing the worth of the French
alliance. With the aid of a powerful French fleet, it might be possible
to capture Clinton's army, and thus end the war at a blow. But this was
not to be. The French fleet of twelve ships-of-the-line and six
frigates, commanded by the Count d'Estaing, sailed from Toulon on the
13th of April, and after a tedious struggle with head-winds arrived at
the mouth of the Delaware on the 8th of July, just too late to intercept
Lord Howe's squadron. The fleet contained a land force of 4,000 men, and
brought over M. Gérard, the first minister from France to the United
States. Finding nothing to do on the Delaware, the count proceeded to
Sandy Hook, where he was boarded by Washington's aids, Laurens and
Hamilton, and a council of war was held. As the British fleet in the
harbour consisted of only six ships-of-the-line, with several frigates
and gunboats, it seemed obvious that it might be destroyed or captured
by Estaing's superior force, and then Clinton would be entrapped in the
island city. But this plan was defeated by a strange obstacle. Though
the harbour of New York is one of the finest in the world, it has, like
most harbours situated at the mouths of great rivers, a bar at the
entrance, which in 1778 was far more troublesome than it is to-day.
Since that time the bar has shifted its position and been partially worn
away, so that the largest ships can now freely enter, except at low
tide. But when the American pilots examined Estaing's two largest ships,
which carried eighty and ninety guns respectively, they declared it
unsafe, even at high tide, for them to venture upon the bar. The
enterprise was accordingly abandoned, but in its stead another one was
undertaken, which, if successful, might prove hardly less decisive than
the capture of New York.
[Portrait: R^d Prescott]
[Sidenote: General Prescott at Newport]
After their expulsion from Boston in the first year of the war, the
British never regained their foothold upon the mainland of New England.
But in December, 1776, the island which gives its name to the state of
Rhode Island had been seized by Lord Percy, and the enemy had occupied
it ever since. From its commanding position at the entrance to the
Sound, it assisted them in threatening the Connecticut coast; and, on
the other hand, should occasion require, it might even enable them to
threaten Boston with an overland attack. After Lord Percy's departure
for England in the spring of 1777, the command devolved upon
Major-general Richard Prescott, an unmitigated brute. Under his rule no
citizen of Newport was safe in his own house. He not only arrested
people and threw them into jail without assigning any reason, but he
encouraged his soldiers in plundering houses and offering gross insults
to ladies, as well as in cutting down shade-trees and wantonly defacing
the beautiful lawns. A great loud-voiced, irascible fellow, swelling
with the sense of his own importance, if he chanced to meet with a
Quaker who failed to take off his hat, he would seize him by the collar
and knock his head against the wall, or strike him over the shoulders
with the big gnarled stick which he usually carried. One night in July,
as this petty tyrant was sleeping at a country house about five miles
from Newport, a party of soldiers rowed over from the mainland in boats,
under the guns of three British frigates, and, taking the general out of
bed, carried him off in his night-gown. He was sent to Washington's
headquarters on the Hudson. As he passed through the village of Lebanon,
in Connecticut, he stopped to dine at an old inn kept by one Captain
Alden. He was politely received, and in the course of the meal Mrs.
Alden set upon the table a dish of succotash, whereupon Prescott, not
knowing the delicious dish, roared, "What do you mean by offering me
this hog's food?" and threw it all upon the floor. The good woman
retreated in tears to the kitchen, and presently her husband, coming in
with a stout horsewhip, dealt with the boor as he deserved. When
Prescott was exchanged for General Lee, in April, 1778, he resumed the
command at Newport, but was soon superseded by the amiable and
accomplished Sir Robert Pigot, under whom the garrison was increased to
6,000 men.
[Signature: R^t Pigot]
[Sidenote: Attempt to capture the British garrison at Newport]
New York and Newport were now the only places held by the enemy in the
United States, and the capture of either, with its army of occupation,
would be an event of prime importance. As soon as the enterprise was
suggested, the New England militia began to muster in force,
Massachusetts sending a strong contingent under John Hancock. General
Sullivan had been in command at Providence since April. Washington now
sent him 1,500 picked men of his Continental troops, with Greene, who
was born hard by and knew every inch of the island; with Glover, of
amphibious renown; and Lafayette, who was a kinsman of the Count
d'Estaing. The New England yeomanry soon swelled this force to about
9,000, and with the 4,000 French regulars and the fleet, it might well
be hoped that General Pigot would quickly be brought to surrender.
[Sidenote: Sullivan seizes Butts Hill]
[Sidenote: Naval battle prevented by storm]
The expedition failed through the inefficient coöperation of the French
and the insubordination of the yeomanry. Estaing arrived off the harbour
of Newport on the 29th of July, and had a conference with Sullivan. It
was agreed that the Americans should land upon the east side of the
island while the French were landing upon the west side, thus
intervening between the main garrison at Newport and a strong detachment
which was stationed on Butts Hill, at the northern end of the island. By
such a movement this detachment might be isolated and captured, to begin
with. But General Pigot, divining the purpose of the allies, withdrew
the detachment, and concentrated all his forces in and around the city.
At this moment the French troops were landing upon Conanicut island,
intending to cross to the north of Newport on the morrow, according to
the agreement. Sullivan did not wait for them, but seeing the commanding
position on Butts Hill evacuated, he rightly pushed across the channel
and seized it, while at the same time he informed Estaing of his reasons
for doing so. The count, not understanding the situation, was somewhat
offended at what he deemed undue haste on the part of Sullivan, but thus
far nothing had happened to disturb the execution of their scheme. He
had only to continue landing his troops and blockade the southern end of
the island with his fleet, and Sir Robert Pigot was doomed. But the next
day Lord Howe appeared off Point Judith, with thirteen ships-of-the
line, seven frigates, and several small vessels, and Estaing,
reëmbarking the troops he had landed on Conanicut, straightway put out
to sea to engage him. For two days the hostile fleets manoeuvred for
the weather-gage, and just as they were getting ready for action there
came up a terrific storm, which scattered them far and wide. Instead of
trying to destroy one another, each had to bend all his energies to
saving himself. So fierce was the storm that it was remembered in local
tradition as lately as 1850 as "the Great Storm." Windows in the town
were incrusted with salt blown up in the ocean spray. Great trees were
torn up by the roots, and much shipping was destroyed along the coast.
[Portrait: Estaing]
[Sidenote: Estaing goes to Boston, to refit his ships]
It was not until the 20th of August that Estaing brought in his
squadron, somewhat damaged from the storm. He now insisted upon going to
Boston to refit, in accordance with general instructions received from
the ministry before leaving home. It was urged in vain by Greene and
Lafayette that the vessels could be repaired as easily in Narragansett
Bay as in Boston harbour; that by the voyage around Cape Cod, in his
crippled condition, he would only incur additional risk; that by
staying he would strictly fulfil the spirit of his instructions; that
an army had been brought here, and stores collected, in reliance upon
his aid; that if the expedition were to be ruined through his failure to
coöperate, it would sully the honour of France and give rise to hard
feelings in America; and finally, that even if he felt constrained, in
spite of sound arguments, to go and refit at Boston, there was no
earthly reason for his taking the 4,000 French soldiers with him. The
count was quite disposed to yield to these sensible remonstrances, but
on calling a council of war he found himself overruled by his officers.
Estaing was not himself a naval officer, but a lieutenant-general in the
army, and it has been said that the officers of his fleet, vexed at
having a land-lubber put over them, were glad of a chance to thwart him
in his plans. However this may have been, it was voted that the letter
of the royal instructions must be blindly adhered to, and so on the 23d
Estaing weighed anchor for Boston, taking the land forces with him, and
leaving General Sullivan in the lurch.
[Illustration: BATTLE OF BUTTS HILL]
[Sidenote: Yeomanry go home in disgust]
[Sidenote: Battle of Butts Hill, Aug. 29, 1778]
[Sidenote: The enterprise abandoned]
Great was the exasperation in the American camp. Sullivan's vexation
found indiscreet expression in a general order, in which he hoped the
event would prove America "able to procure that by her own arms which
her allies refuse to assist in obtaining." But the insubordination of
the volunteers now came in to complicate the matter. Some 3,000 of them,
despairing of success and impatient at being kept from home in harvest
time, marched away in disgust and went about their business, thus
reducing Sullivan's army to the same size as that of the enemy. The
investment of Newport, by land, had already been completed, but the
speedy success of the enterprise depended upon a superiority of force,
and in case of British reinforcements arriving from New York the
American situation would become dangerous. Upon these grounds, Sullivan,
on the 28th, decided to retreat to the strong position at Butts Hill,
and await events. Lafayette mounted his horse and rode the seventy miles
to Boston in seven hours, to beg his kinsman to return as soon as
possible. Estaing despaired of getting his ships ready for many days,
but, catching a spark of the young man's enthusiasm, he offered to bring
up his troops by land. Fired with fresh hope, the young marquis spurred
back as fast as he had come, but when he arrived on the scene of action
all was over. As soon as Sullivan's retreat was perceived the whole
British army gave chase. After the Americans had retired to their lines
on Butts Hill, Sir Robert Pigot tried to carry their position by storm,
and there ensued an obstinate fight, in which the conditions were in
many respects similar to those of Bunker Hill; but this time the
Americans had powder enough, and the British were totally defeated. This
slaughter of their brave men was useless. The next day Sullivan received
a dispatch from Washington, with the news that Clinton had started from
New York with 5,000 men to reinforce Sir Robert Pigot. Under these
circumstances, it was rightly thought best to abandon the island. The
services of General Glover, who had taken Washington's army across the
East River after the defeat of Long Island, and across the Delaware
before the victory of Trenton, were called into requisition, and all the
men and stores were ferried safely to the mainland; Lafayette arriving
from Boston just in time to bring off the pickets and covering-parties.
The next day Clinton arrived with his 5,000 men, and the siege of
Newport was over.
* * * * *
[Portrait: John Glover B General]
[Sidenote: Unpopularity of the French alliance]
The failure of this enterprise excited much indignation, and seemed to
justify the distrust with which so many people regarded the French
alliance. In Boston the ill-feeling found vent in a riot on the wharves
between French and American sailors, and throughout New England there
was loud discontent. It required all Washington's tact to keep peace
between the ill-yoked allies. When Congress passed a politic resolution
approving the course of the French commander, it met with no cordial
assent from the people. When, in November, Estaing took his fleet to the
West Indies, for purposes solely French, the feeling was one of lively
disgust, which was heightened by an indiscreet proclamation of the count
inviting the people of Canada to return to their old allegiance. For
the American people regarded the work of Pitt as final, and at no time
during the war did their feeling against Great Britain rise to such a
point as to make them willing to see the French restored to their old
position on this continent. The sagacious Vergennes understood this so
well that Estaing's proclamation found little favour in his eyes. But it
served none the less to irritate the Americans, and especially the
people of New England.
[Sidenote: Stagnation of the war in the northern states]
So far as the departure of the fleet for the West Indies was concerned,
the American complaints were not wholly reasonable; for the operations
of the French in that quarter helped materially to diminish the force
which Great Britain could spare for the war in the United States. On the
very day of Estaing's departure, Sir Henry Clinton was obliged to send
5,000 men from New York to take part in the West India campaign. This
new pressure put upon England by the necessity of warding off French
attack went on increasing. In 1779 England had 314,000 men under arms in
various parts of the world, but she had so many points to defend that it
was difficult for her to maintain a sufficient force in America. In the
autumn of that year, Sir Henry Clinton did not regard his position in
New York as secure enough to justify him any longer in sparing troops
for the occupation of Newport, and the island was accordingly evacuated.
From this time till the end of the war, the only point which the British
succeeded in holding, north of Virginia, was the city of New York. After
the Rhode Island campaign of 1778, no further operations occurred at the
North between the two principal armies which could properly be said to
constitute a campaign. Clinton's resources were too slender for him to
do anything but hold New York. Washington's resources were too slender
for him to do anything but sit and watch Clinton. While the two
commanders-in-chief thus held each other at bay, the rapid and violent
work of the war was going on in the southern states, conducted by
subordinate officers. During much of this time Washington's army formed
a cordon about Manhattan Island, from Danbury in Connecticut to
Elizabethtown in New Jersey, and thus blockaded the enemy. But while
there were no decisive military operations in the northern states during
this period, many interesting and important events occurred which demand
consideration before we go on to treat of the great southern campaigns
which ended the war.
FOOTNOTES:
[17] As usual in such cases, there is a great diversity of
testimony as to what was said. In my first edition I gave the
familiar story of which there is a meagre version in Bancroft
and a much fuller one in Irving: "What is the meaning of all
this?" etc.; but I suspect that story is much too literary. It
is not likely that any such conversation occurred at such a
moment. A young sergeant, Jacob Morton, was standing close by
when Washington met Lee. This Morton, who afterward became a
major, was noted for accuracy and precision of statement. In
1840 he gave his account of the affair to Mr. Harrison
Robertson, of Charlottesville, Virginia; and in 1895 Mr.
Robertson kindly wrote out for me his recollection of that
account. According to Morton, Washington simply shouted, "My
God! General Lee, what are you about?" This has the earmark of
truth. Another account, traceable to Lafayette and likewise
probable, says that as Washington swept furiously past and
away, he ejaculated with bitter emphasis, "Damned poltroon!"
[18] Such was Steuben's own testimony on the court-martial. Lee was
so enraged by it as to make reflections upon Steuben which
presently called forth a challenge from that gentleman. (_Lee
Papers_, iii. 96, 253.) It is to be regretted that we have not
the reply in which Lee declined the encounter. There is a
reference to it in a letter from Alexander Hamilton to Baron
von Steuben, a fortnight after the challenge: "I have read your
letter to Lee with pleasure. It was conceived in terms which
the offence merited, and, if he had any feeling, must have been
felt by him. Considering the pointedness and severity of your
expressions, his answer was certainly a very modest one, and
proved that he had not a violent appetite for so close a
_tête-à-tête_ as you seemed disposed to insist upon. His
evasions, if known to the world, would do him very little
honour." Upon what grounds Lee refused to fight with Steuben,
it is hard to surmise; for within another week we find him
engaged in a duel with Colonel Laurens, as will presently be
mentioned in the text.
[19] Washington's _Writings_, ed. Ford, vii. 90.
[20] "I never saw the General to so much advantage.... A general
rout, dismay, and disgrace would have attended the whole army
in any other hands but his. By his own good sense and fortitude
he turned the fate of the day.... He did not hug himself at a
distance, and leave an Arnold to win laurels for him; but by
his own presence he brought order out of confusion, animated
his troops, and led them to success."--_Hamilton to Boudinot_,
5 July, 1778. Observe the well-timed sneer at Gates. Boudinot
answers, "The General I always revered and loved ever since I
knew him, but in this instance he rose superior to himself.
Every lip dwells on his praise, for even his pretended friends
(for none dare to acknowledge themselves his enemies) are
obliged to croak it forth."--_Boudinot to Hamilton_, 8 July,
1778.
CHAPTER XI
WAR ON THE FRONTIER
The barbarous border fighting of the Revolutionary War was largely due
to the fact that powerful tribes of wild Indians still confronted us on
every part of our steadily advancing frontier. They would have tortured
and scalped our backwoodsmen even if we had had no quarrel with George
III., and there could be no lasting peace until they were crushed
completely. When the war broke out, their alliance with the British was
natural, but the truculent spirit which sought to put that savage
alliance to the worst uses was something which it would not be fair to
ascribe to the British commanders in general; it must be charged to the
account of Lord George Germain and a few unworthy men who were willing
to be his tools.
[Portrait: Wm Johnson]
[Illustration: A North View of Fort Johnson drawn on the spot by M^r.
Guy Johnson, Sir W^m. Johnson's Son.]
[Sidenote: Joseph Brant, missionary and war-chief]
In the summer of 1778 this horrible border warfare became the most
conspicuous feature of the struggle, and has afforded themes for poetry
and romance, in which the figures of the principal actors are seen in a
lurid light. One of these figures is of such importance as to deserve
especial mention. Joseph Brant, or Thayendanegea, was perhaps the
greatest Indian of whom we have any knowlege; certainly the
history of the red men presents no more many-sided and interesting
character. A pure-blooded Mohawk, descended from a line of distinguished
chiefs,[21] in early boyhood he became a favourite with Sir William
Johnson, and the laughing black eyes of his handsome sister, Molly
Brant, so fascinated the rough baronet that he took her to Johnson Hall
as his wife, after the Indian fashion. Sir William believed that Indians
could be tamed and taught the arts of civilized life, and he laboured
with great energy, and not without some success, in this difficult task.
The young Thayendanegea was sent to be educated at the school in
Lebanon, Connecticut, which was afterwards transferred to New Hampshire
and developed into Dartmouth College. At this school he not only became
expert in the use of the English language, in which he learned to write
with elegance and force, but he also acquired some inkling of general
literature and history. He became a member of the Episcopal Church, and
after leaving school he was for some time engaged in missionary work
among the Mohawks, and translated the Prayer-Book and parts of the New
Testament into his native language. He was a man of earnest and serious
character, and his devotion to the church endured throughout his life.
Some years after the peace of 1783, the first Episcopal church ever
built in Upper Canada was erected by Joseph Brant, from funds which he
had collected for the purpose while on a visit to England. But with this
character of devout missionary and earnest student Thayendanegea
combined, in curious contrast, the attributes of an Iroquois war-chief
developed to the highest degree of efficiency. There was no
accomplishment prized by Indian braves in which he did not outshine all
his fellows. He was early called to take the war-path. In the fierce
struggle with Pontiac he fought with great distinction on the English
side, and at the beginning of the War of Independence he was one of the
most conspicuous of Iroquois war-chiefs.
It was the most trying time that had ever come to these haughty lords of
the wilderness, and called for all the valour and diplomacy which they
could summon. Brant was equal to the occasion, and no chieftain ever
fought a losing cause with greater spirit than he. We have seen how at
Oriskany he came near turning the scale against us in one of the
critical moments of a great campaign. From the St. Lawrence to the
Susquehanna his name became a name of terror. Equally skilful and
zealous, now in planning the silent night march and deadly ambush, now
in preaching the gospel of peace, he reminds one of some newly reclaimed
Frisian or Norman warrior of the Carolingian age. But in the eighteenth
century the incongruity is more striking than in the tenth, in so far as
the traits of the barbarian are more vividly projected against the
background of a higher civilization. It is odd to think of
Thayendanegea, who could outyell any of his tribe on the battlefield,
sitting at table with Burke and Sheridan, and behaving with the modest
grace of an English gentleman. The tincture of civilization he had
acquired, moreover, was by no means superficial. Though engaged in many
a murderous attack, his conduct was not marked by the ferocity so
characteristic of the Iroquois. Though he sometimes approved the slaying
of prisoners on grounds of public policy, he was flatly opposed to
torture, and never would allow it. He often went out of his way to
rescue women and children from the tomahawk, and the instances of his
magnanimity toward suppliant enemies were very numerous.
[Illustration: A View of Niagara Fort]
[Sidenote: The Tories of western New York]
At the beginning of the war the influence of the Johnsons had kept all
the Six Nations on the side of the Crown, except the Oneidas and
Tuscaroras, who were prevailed upon by New England missionaries to
maintain an attitude of neutrality. The Indians in general were quite
incapable of understanding the issue involved in the contest, but Brant
had some comprehension of it, and looked at the matter with Tory eyes.
The loyalists in central New York were numerous, but the patriot party
was the stronger, and such fierce enmities were aroused in this frontier
society that most of the Tories were obliged to abandon their homes and
flee to the wilds of western New York and Upper Canada, where they made
the beginnings of the first English settlement in that country. There,
under their leaders, the Johnsons, with Colonel John Butler and his son
Walter, they had their headquarters at Fort Niagara, where they were
joined by Brant with his Mohawks. Secure in the possession of that
remote stronghold, they made it the starting-point of their frequent and
terrible excursions against the communities which had cast them forth.
These rough frontiersmen, many of them Scotch Highlanders of the old
stripe, whose raiding and reaving propensities had been little changed
by their life in an American wilderness, were in every way fit comrades
for their dusky allies. Clothed in blankets and moccasins, decked with
beads and feathers, and hideous in war-paint, it was not easy to
distinguish them from the stalwart barbarians whose fiendish cruelties
they often imitated and sometimes surpassed. Border tradition tells of
an Indian who, after murdering a young mother with her three children,
as they sat by the evening fireside, was moved to pity by the sight of a
little infant sweetly smiling at him from its cradle; but his Tory
comrade picked up the babe with the point of his bayonet, and, as he
held it writhing in mid-air, exclaimed, "Is not this also a d--d rebel?"
There are many tales of like import, and whether always true or not they
seem to show the reputation which these wretched men had won. The Tory
leaders took less pains than Thayendanegea to prevent useless slaughter,
and some of the atrocities permitted by Walter Butler have never been
outdone in the history of savage warfare.
[Illustration: EARLY MAP OF WYOMING AND LACKAWANNA VALLEYS.]
[Sidenote: The valley of Wyoming and its settlers from Connecticut]
During the year 1778 the frontier became the scene of misery such as had
not been witnessed since the time of Pontiac. Early in July there came
a blow at which the whole country stood aghast. The valley of Wyoming,
situated in northeastern Pennsylvania, where the Susquehanna makes its
way through a huge cleft in the mountains, had become celebrated for the
unrivalled fertility and beauty which, like the fatal gift of some
unfriendly power, served only to make it an occasion of strife. The
lovely spot lay within the limits of the charter of Connecticut, granted
in 1662, according to which that colony or plantation was to extend
westward to the Pacific Ocean. It also lay within the limits of the
charter of 1681, by which the proprietary colony of Pennsylvania had
been founded. About one hundred people from Connecticut had settled in
Wyoming in 1762, but within a year this little settlement was wiped out
in blood and fire by the Indians. In 1768 some Pennsylvanians began to
settle in the valley, but they were soon ousted by a second detachment
of Yankees, and for three years a miniature war was kept up, with
varying fortunes, until at last the Connecticut men, under Zebulon
Butler and Lazarus Stewart, were victorious. In 1771 the question was
referred to the law-officers of the Crown, and the claim of Connecticut
was sustained. Settlers now began to come rapidly,--the forerunners of
that great New England migration which in these latter days has founded
so many thriving states in the West. By the year 1778 the population of
the valley exceeded 3,000, distributed in several pleasant hamlets, with
town-meetings, schools and churches, and all the characteristics of New
England orderliness and thrift. Most of the people were from
Connecticut, and were enthusiastic and devoted patriots, but in 1776 a
few settlers from the Hudson valley had come in, and, exhibiting Tory
sympathies, were soon after expelled. Here was an excellent opportunity
for the loyalist border ruffians to wreak summary vengeance upon their
enemies. Here was a settlement peculiarly exposed in position, regarded
with no friendly eyes by its Pennsylvania neighbours, and, moreover, ill
provided with defenders, for it had sent the best part of its trained
militia to serve in Washington's army.
[Illustration: FORTY FORT, WYOMING]
[Sidenote: Massacre at Wyoming, July 3, 1778]
These circumstances did not escape the keen eye of Colonel John Butler,
and in June, 1778, he took the war-path from Niagara, with a company of
his own rangers, a regiment of Johnson's Greens, and a band of Senecas
under their chief Sayenqueraghta, commonly called Old King; in all about
1,200 men. Reaching the Susquehanna, they glided down the swift stream
in bark canoes, landed a little above the doomed settlement, and began
their work of murder and pillage. Consternation filled the valley. The
women and children were huddled in a blockhouse called Forty Fort, and
Colonel Zebulon Butler, with 300 men, went out to meet the enemy. There
seemed to be no choice but to fight, though the odds were so desperate.
As the enemy came in sight, late in the afternoon of July 3d, the
patriots charged upon them, and for about an hour there was a fierce
struggle, till, overwhelmed by weight of numbers, the little band of
defenders broke and fled. Some made their way to the fort, and a few
escaped to the mountains, but nearly all were overtaken and slain, save
such as were reserved for the horrors of the night. The second
anniversary of independence was ushered in with dreadful orgies in the
valley of Wyoming. Some of the prisoners were burned at the stake, some
were laid upon hot embers and held down with pitchforks till they died,
some were hacked with knives. Sixteen poor fellows were arranged in a
circle, while an old half-breed hag, known as Queen Esther, and supposed
to be a granddaughter of the famous Frontenac, danced slowly around the
ring, shrieking a death-song as she slew them one after the other with
her tomahawk.
The next day, when Forty Fort surrendered, no more lives were taken, but
the Indians plundered and burned all the houses, while the inhabitants
fled to the woods or to the nearest settlements on the Lehigh and
Delaware, and the vale of Wyoming was for a time abandoned. Dreadful
sufferings attended the flight. A hundred women and children perished of
fatigue and starvation in trying to cross the swamp, which has since
been known to this day as the "Shades of Death." Several children were
born in that fearful spot, only to die there with their unhappy
mothers. Such horrors needed no exaggeration in the telling, yet from
the confused reports of the fugitives, magnified by popular rumour, a
tale of wholesale slaughter went abroad which was even worse than the
reality, but which careful research has long since completely disproved.
[Illustration: To His Excellency WILLIAM TRION ESQ.^r
Captain General & Governer in Chief
of the Province of New York &. &.
This Map
of the Country of the VI. Nations
Proper, with Part of Adjacent Colony
Is humbly inscribed by his Excellency.
Most obedient humble servant
Guy Johnson 1771
]
[Sidenote: Massacre at Cherry Valley, Nov. 10]
The popular reputation of Brant as an incarnate demon rests largely upon
the part which he was formerly supposed to have taken in the
devastation of Wyoming. But the "monster Brant," who figures so
conspicuously in Campbell's celebrated poem, was not even present on
this occasion. Thayendanegea was at that time at Niagara. It was not
long, however, before he was concerned in a bloody affair in which
Walter Butler was principal. The village of Cherry Valley, in central
New York, was destroyed on the 10th of November by a party of 700
Tories and Indians. All the houses were burned, and about fifty of the
inhabitants murdered, without regard to age or sex.[22] Many other
atrocious things were done in the course of this year; but the affairs
of Wyoming and Cherry Valley made a deeper impression than any of the
others. Among the victims there were many refined gentlemen and ladies,
well known in the northern states, and this was especially the case of
Cherry Valley.
[Portrait: James Clinton]
[Sidenote: Sullivan's expedition]
[Sidenote: Battle of Newtown, Aug 29, 1779]
Washington made up his mind that exemplary vengeance must be taken, and
the source of the evil extinguished as far as possible. An army of 5,000
men was sent out in the summer of 1779, with instructions to lay waste
the country of the hostile Iroquois and capture the nest of Tory
miscreants at Fort Niagara. The command of the expedition was offered to
Gates, and when he testily declined it, as requiring too much hard work
from a man of his years, it was given to Sullivan. To prepare such an
army for penetrating to a depth of four hundred miles through the forest
was no light task; and before they had reached the Iroquois country,
Brant had sacked the town of Minisink and annihilated a force of militia
sent to oppose him. Yet the expedition was well timed for the purpose of
destroying the growing crops of the enemy. The army advanced in two
divisions. The right wing, under General James Clinton, proceeded up the
valley of the Mohawk as far as Canajoharie, and then turned to the
southwest; while the left wing, under Sullivan himself, ascended the
Susquehanna. On the 22d of August the two columns met at Tioga, and one
week later they found the enemy at Newtown, on the site of the present
town of Elmira,--1,500 Tories and Indians, led by Sir John Johnson in
person, with both the Butlers and Thayendanegea. In the battle which
ensued, the enemy was routed with great slaughter, while the American
loss was less than fifty. No further resistance was made, but the army
was annoyed in every possible way, and stragglers were now and then
caught and tortured to death. On one occasion, a young lieutenant, named
Boyd, was captured while leading a scouting party, and fell into the
hands of one of the Butlers, who threatened to give him up to torture
unless he should disclose whatever he knew of General Sullivan's plans.
On his refusal, he was given into the hands of a Seneca demon, named
Little Beard; and after being hacked and plucked to pieces with a
refinement of cruelty which the pen refuses to describe, his torments
were ended by disembowelling.
[Sidenote: Devastation of the Iroquois country]
Such horrors served only to exasperate the American troops, and while
they do not seem to have taken life unnecessarily, they certainly
carried out their orders with great zeal and thoroughness. The Iroquois
tribes were so far advanced in the agricultural stage of development
that they were much more dependent upon their crops than upon the chase
for subsistence; and they had besides learned some of the arts of
civilization from their white neighbours. Their long wigwams were
beginning to give place to framed houses with chimneys; their extensive
fields were planted with corn and beans; and their orchards yielded
apples, pears, and peaches in immense profusion. All this prosperity was
now brought to an end. From Tioga the American army marched through the
entire country of the Cayugas and Senecas, laying waste the cornfields,
burning the houses, and cutting down all the fruit-trees. More than
forty villages, the largest containing 128 houses, were razed to the
ground. So terrible a vengeance had not overtaken the Long House since
the days of Frontenac. The region thus devastated had come to be the
most important domain of the Confederacy, which never recovered from the
blow thus inflicted. The winter of 1779-80 was one of the coldest ever
known in America, so cold that the harbour of New York was frozen solid
enough to bear troops and artillery,[23] while the British in the city,
deprived of the aid of their fleet, spent the winter in daily dread of
attack. During this extreme season the houseless Cayugas and Senecas
were overtaken by famine and pestilence, and the diminution in their
numbers was never afterwards made good. The stronghold at Niagara,
however, was not wrested from Thayendanegea. That part of Sullivan's
expedition was a failure. From increasing sickness among the soldiers
and want of proper food, he deemed it impracticable to take his large
force beyond the Genesee river, and accordingly he turned back toward
the seaboard, arriving in New Jersey at the end of October, after a
total march of more than seven hundred miles.
[Portrait: John Sullivan]
[Sidenote: Reign of terror in the Mohawk valley]
Though so much harrying had been done, the snake was only scotched,
after all. Nothing short of the complete annihilation of the savage
enemy would have put a stop to his inroads. Before winter was over dire
vengeance fell upon the Oneidas, who were now regarded by their brethren
as traitors to the Confederacy; they were utterly crushed by
Thayendanegea. For two years more the tomahawk and firebrand were busy
in the Mohawk valley. It was a reign of terror. Blockhouses were erected
in every neighbourhood, into which forty or fifty families could crowd
together at the first note of alarm. The farmers ploughed and harvested
in companies, keeping their rifles within easy reach, while pickets and
scouts peered in every direction for signs of the stealthy foe. In
battles with the militia, of which there were several, the enemy, with
his greatly weakened force, was now generally worsted; but nothing could
exceed the boldness of his raids. On one or two occasions he came within
a few miles of Albany. Once a small party of Tories actually found their
way into the city, with intent to assassinate General Schuyler, and came
very near succeeding. In no other part of the United States did the war
entail so much suffering as on the New York border. During the five
years ending with 1781, the population of Tryon county was reduced by
two thirds of its amount, and in the remaining third there were more
than three hundred widows and two thousand orphan children.
[Illustration: JOHNSON HALL]
* * * * *
[Sidenote: The wilderness beyond the Alleghanies]
This cruel warfare, so damaging to the New York frontier settlements and
so fatal to the Six Nations, was really part of a desultory conflict
which raged at intervals from north to south along our whole western
border, and resulted in the total overthrow of British authority beyond
the Alleghanies. The vast region between these mountains and the
Mississippi river--a territory more than twice as large as the German
Empire--was at that time an almost unbroken wilderness. A few French
towns garrisoned by British troops, as at Natchez, Kaskaskia, and
Cahokia on the Mississippi river, at Vincennes, on the Wabash, and at
Detroit, sufficed to represent the sovereignty of George III., and to
exercise a very dubious control over the wild tribes that roamed through
these primeval solitudes. When the thirteen colonies declared themselves
independent of the British Crown, the ownership of this western
territory was for the moment left undecided. Portions of it were claimed
by Massachusetts, Connecticut, New York, Virginia, North Carolina, and
Georgia, on the strength of their old charters or of their relations
with the Indian tribes. Little respect, however, was paid to the quaint
terminology of charters framed in an age when almost nothing was known
of American geography; and it was virtually left for circumstances to
determine to whom the western country should belong. It was now very
fortunate for the United States that the policy of Pitt had wrested this
all-important territory from the French. For to conquer from the British
enemy so remote a region was feasible; but to have sought to obtain it
from a power with which we were forming an alliance would have been
difficult indeed.
[Sidenote: Rivalry between Pennsylvania and Virginia for the possession
of Fort Pitt]
The commanding approach to this territory was by the town and fortress
of Pittsburgh, the "Gateway of the West," from which, through the Ohio
river and its tributary streams, an army might penetrate with
comparative ease to any part of the vast Mississippi valley. The
possession of this gateway had for some years been a subject of dispute
between Pennsylvania and Virginia. Though the question was ultimately
settled in favour of Pennsylvania, yet for the present Virginia, which
had the longest arm, kept her hold upon the commanding citadel. To
Virginia its possession was then a matter of peculiar importance, for
her population had already begun to overflow its mountain barriers, and,
pressing down the Ohio valley, had made the beginnings of the state of
Kentucky. Virginia and North Carolina, lying farther westward than any
of the other old states, were naturally the first to send colonies
across the Alleghanies. It was not long before the beginning of the war
that Daniel Boone had explored the Kentucky river, and that Virginia
surveyors had gone down the Ohio as far as the present site of
Louisville. Conflicts ensued with the Indians, so fierce and deadly that
this region was long known as the "Dark and Bloody Ground."
During this troubled period, the hostile feeling between Pennsylvania
and Virginia was nourished by the conflicting interests of the people of
those two colonies in respect to the western country and its wild
inhabitants. The Virginians entered the country as settlers, with intent
to take possession of the soil and keep the Indians at a distance; but
there were many people in Pennsylvania who reaped large profits from
trade with the barbarians, and therefore did not wish to see them
dispossessed of their border forests and driven westward. The Virginia
frontiersmen were angry with the Pennsylvania traders for selling rifles
and powder to the redskins, and buying from them horses stolen from
white men. This, they alleged, was practically inciting the Indians to
deeds of plunder and outrage. In the spring of 1774, there seemed to be
serious danger of an outbreak of hostilities at Fort Pitt, when the
attention of Virginia was all at once absorbed in a brief but
hard-fought war, which had a most important bearing upon the issue of
the American struggle for independence.
[Portrait: Daniel Boone]
[Illustration: In Memory of
Michael Cresap First Cap
Of the Rifle Batalions
And Son to Col. Thomas
Cresap Who Departed this
Life October the 18 1775.
]
[Sidenote: Lord Dunmore's War, 1774]
[Sidenote: Logan and Cresap]
This border war of 1774 has sometimes been known as "Cresap's War," but
more recently, and with less impropriety, as "Lord Dunmore's War." It
was conducted under the general direction of the Earl of Dunmore, last
royal governor of Virginia; and in the political excitement of the time
there were some who believed that he actually contrived to stir up the
war out of malice aforethought, in order to hamper the Virginians in
their impending struggle with the mother-country. Dunmore's agent, or
lieutenant, in western Virginia, Dr. John Connolly, was a violent and
unscrupulous man, whose arrogance was as likely to be directed against
friendly as against hostile Indians, and it was supposed that he acted
under the earl's secret orders with intent to bring on a war. But the
charge is ill-supported and quite improbable. According to some writers,
the true cause of the war was the slaying of the whole family of the
friendly chief Logan, and doubtless this event furnished the occasion
for the outbreak of hostilities. It was conspicuous in a series of
outrages that had been going on for years, such as are always apt to
occur on the frontier between advancing civilization and resisting
barbarism. John Logan, or Tagahjutè, was of Cayuga descent, a chief of
the Mingos, a brave and honest man, of fine and stately presence. He had
always been kind and hospitable to the English settlers, perhaps in
accordance with the traditional policy of his Iroquois forefathers,--a
tradition which by 1774 had lost much of its strength. In April of that
year some Indian depredations occurred on the upper Ohio, which led Dr.
Connolly to issue instructions, warning the settlers to be on their
guard, as an attack from the Shawnees was to be apprehended. Captain
Michael Cresap was a pioneer from Maryland, a brave man and sterling
patriot; but as for the Indians, his feelings toward them were like
those of most backwoodsmen. Cresap not unnaturally interpreted the
instructions from Dunmore's lieutenant as equivalent to a declaration of
war, and he proceeded forthwith to slay and scalp some friendly
Shawnees. As is apt to be the case with reprisals and other unreasoning
forms of popular vengeance, the blow fell in the wrong quarter, and
innocent people were made scapegoats for the guilty. Cresap's party next
started off to attack Logan's camp at Yellow Creek; but presently
bethinking themselves of Logan's well-known friendliness toward the
whites, as they argued with one another, they repented of their purpose,
and turned their steps in another direction. But hard by the Mingo
encampment a wretch named Greathouse had set up a whiskey shop, and
thither, on the last day of April, repaired Logan's family, nine thirsty
barbarians, male and female, old and young. When they had become dead
drunk, Greathouse and two or three of his cronies illustrated their
peculiar view of the purport of Connolly's instructions by butchering
them all in cold blood. The Indians of the border needed no stronger
provocation for rushing to arms. Within a few days Logan's men had taken
a dozen scalps, half of them from young children. Mingos and Shawnees
were joined by Wyandots, Delawares, and Senecas, and the dismal tale of
blazing cabins and murdered women was renewed all along the frontier.
It was in vain that Lord Dunmore and his lieutenant disclaimed
responsibility for the massacre at Yellow Creek. The blame was by all
the Indians and many of the whites laid upon Cresap, whose name has been
handed down to posterity as that of the arch-villain in this rough
border romance. The pathetic speech of the bereaved Logan to Dunmore's
envoy, John Gibson, was preserved and immortalized by Jefferson in his
"Notes on Virginia," and has been declaimed by thousands of American
schoolboys. In his comments Jefferson spoke of Cresap as "a man infamous
for the many murders he had committed upon these injured people."
Jefferson here simply gave voice to the tradition which had started into
full life as early as June, 1774, when Sir William Johnson wrote that "a
certain Mr. Cressop had trepanned and murdered forty Indians on the
Ohio, ... and that the unworthy author of this wanton act is fled." The
charge made by Jefferson was answered at the time, but continued to live
on in tradition, until finally disposed of in 1851 by Brantz Mayer.[24]
The origin of the misconception is doubtless to be traced to the
insignificance of Greathouse. In trying to shield himself, Connolly
deposed Cresap from command, but he was presently reinstated by Lord
Dunmore.
In June of the next year, Captain Cresap marched to Cambridge at the
head of 130 Maryland riflemen; but during the early autumn he was seized
with illness, and while making his way homeward died at New York, at the
age of thirty-three. His grave is still to be seen in Trinity
churchyard, near the door of the north transept. The Indian chief with
whose name his has so long been associated was some time afterwards
tomahawked by a brother Indian, in the course of a drunken affray.
[Sidenote: Battle of Point Pleasant and its consequences]
The war thus ushered in by the Yellow Creek massacre was an event of
cardinal importance in the history of our western frontier. It was ended
by the decisive battle at Point Pleasant, on the Great Kanawha (October
10, 1774), in which the Indians, under the famous Shawnee chief
Cornstalk, were totally defeated by the backwoodsmen under Andrew Lewis.
This defeat so cowed the Indians that they were fain to purchase peace
by surrendering all their claims upon the hunting-grounds south of the
Ohio. It kept the northwestern tribes comparatively quiet during the
first two years of the Revolutionary War, and thus opened the way for
white settlers to rush into Kentucky. The four years following the
battle of Point Pleasant saw remarkable and portentous changes on the
frontier. It was just at the beginning of Lord Dunmore's war that
Parliament passed the Quebec Act, of which the practical effect, had it
ever been enforced, would have been the extension of Canada southward to
the Ohio river. In contravention of old charters, it would have deprived
the American colonies of the great northwestern territory. But the
events that followed upon Lord Dunmore's war soon rendered this part of
the Quebec Act a nullity.
[Illustration: Andrew Lewis]
[Sidenote: Settlement of Kentucky]
In 1775, Richard Henderson of North Carolina purchased from the
Cherokees the tract between the Kentucky and Cumberland rivers, and at
the same time Boonesborough and Harrodsburg were founded by Daniel
Boone and James Harrod. As a party of these bold backwoodsmen were
encamping near the sources of the southern fork of the Licking, they
heard the news of the victory which ushered in the War of Independence,
and forthwith gave the name of Lexington to the place of their
encampment, on which a thriving city now stands. These new settlements
were not long in organizing themselves into a state, which they called
Transylvania. Courts were instituted, laws enacted, and a militia
enrolled, and a delegate was sent to the Continental Congress; but
finding that Virginia still claimed their allegiance, they yielded their
pretensions to autonomy, and were organized for the present as a county
of the mother state. The so-called "county" of Kentucky, comprising the
whole of the present state of that name, with an area one fourth larger
than that of Scotland, was indeed of formidable dimensions for a county.
[Sidenote: and of eastern Tennessee]
[Sidenote: Defeat of the Cherokees on the Watauga]
The settlement of Tennessee was going on at the same time. The movement
of population for some time had a southwestward trend along the great
valleys inclosed by the Appalachian ranges, so that frontiersmen from
Pennsylvania found their way down the Shenandoah, and thence the stream
of Virginian migration reached the Watauga, the Holston, and the French
Broad, in the midst of the most magnificent scenery east of the Rocky
Mountains. At the same time there was a westward movement from North
Carolina across the Great Smoky range, and the defeat of the Regulators
by Governor Tryon at the battle of the Alamance in 1771 no doubt did
much to give strength and volume to this movement. The way was prepared
in 1770 by James Robertson, who penetrated the wilderness as far as the
banks of the Watauga. Forts were soon erected there and on the
Nolichucky. The settlement grew apace, and soon came into conflict with
the most warlike and powerful of the southern tribes of Indians. The
Cherokees, like their kinsmen the Iroquois at the North, had fought on
the English side in the Seven Years' War, and had rendered some service,
though of small value, at the capture of Fort Duquesne. Early in the
Revolutionary War fierce feuds with the encroaching settlers led them to
take sides with the British, and in company with Tory guerrillas they
ravaged the frontier. In 1776, the Watauga settlement was attacked, and
invasions were made into Georgia and South Carolina. But the blow
recoiled upon the Cherokees. Their country was laid waste by troops from
the Carolinas, under Andrew Williamson and Griffith Rutherford; their
attack upon the Watauga settlement was defeated by James Robertson and
John Sevier; and in 1777 they were forced to make treaties renouncing
for the most part their claims upon the territory between the Tennessee
and the Cumberland rivers.
[Illustration: THE COUNTRY BEHIND THE MOUNTAINS, 1770-80.]
[Sidenote: Its consequences]
Robertson and Sevier were the most commanding and picturesque figures in
Tennessee history until Andrew Jackson came upon the scene; and their
military successes, moreover, like those of "Old Hickory," were of the
utmost importance to the whole country. This was especially true of
their victory at the Watauga; for had the settlement there been swept
away by the barbarians, it would have uncovered the great Wilderness
Road to Lexington and Harrodsburg, and the Kentucky settlement, thus
fatally isolated, would very likely have had to be abandoned. The
Watauga victory thus helped to secure in 1776 the ground won two years
before at the Great Kanawha.[25]
[Sidenote: George Rogers Clark]
Such were the beginnings of Kentucky and Tennessee, and such was the
progress already made to the west of the mountains, when the next and
longest step was taken by George Rogers Clark. During the years 1776 and
1777, Colonel Henry Hamilton, the British commander at Detroit, was
busily engaged in preparing a general attack of Indian tribes upon the
northwestern frontier. Such concerted action among these barbarians was
difficult to organize, and the moral effect of Lord Dunmore's war
doubtless served to postpone it. There were isolated assaults, however,
upon Boonesborough and Wheeling and in the neighbourhood of Pittsburgh.
While Hamilton was thus scheming, a gallant young Virginian was
preparing an effective counter-stroke. In the late autumn of 1777,
George Rogers Clark, then just twenty-five years old, was making his way
back from Kentucky along the Wilderness Road, and heard with exultation
the news of Burgoyne's surrender. Clark was a man of bold originality.
He had been well educated by that excellent Scotch schoolmaster, Donald
Robertson, among whose pupils was James Madison. In 1772, Clark was
practising the profession of a land surveyor upon the upper Ohio, and he
rendered valuable service as a scout in the campaign of the Great
Kanawha. For skill in woodcraft, as for indomitable perseverance and
courage, he had few equals. He was a man of picturesque and stately
presence, like an old Norse viking, tall and massive, with ruddy cheeks,
auburn hair, and piercing blue eyes sunk deep under thick yellow brows.
[Sidenote: Clark's conquest of the northwestern territory, 1778]
When he heard of the "convention" of Saratoga, Clark was meditating a
stroke as momentous in the annals of the Mississippi valley as
Burgoyne's overthrow in the annals of the Hudson. He had sent spies
through the Illinois country, without giving them any inkling of his
purpose, and from what he could gather from their reports he had made up
his mind that by a bold and sudden movement the whole region could be
secured and the British commander checkmated. On arriving in Virginia,
he laid his scheme before Governor Patrick Henry; and Jefferson, Wythe,
and Madison were also taken into his confidence. The plan met with warm
approval; but as secrecy and dispatch were indispensable, it would not
do to consult the legislature, and little could be done beyond
authorizing the adventurous young man to raise a force of 350 men and
collect material of war at Pittsburgh. People supposed that his object
was merely to defend the Kentucky settlements. Clark had a hard winter's
work in enlisting men, but at length, in May, 1778, having collected a
flotilla of boats and a few pieces of light artillery, he started from
Pittsburgh with 180 picked riflemen, and rowed swiftly down the Ohio
river a thousand miles to its junction with the Mississippi. The British
garrison at Kaskaskia had been removed, to strengthen the posts at
Detroit and Niagara, and the town was an easy prey. Hiding his boats in
a creek, Clark marched across the prairie, and seized the place without
resistance. The French inhabitants were not ill-disposed toward the
change, especially when they heard of the new alliance between the
United States and Louis XVI., and Clark showed consummate skill in
playing upon their feelings. Cahokia and two other neighbouring villages
were easily persuaded to submit, and the Catholic priest Gibault
volunteered to carry Clark's proposals to Vincennes, on the Wabash; upon
receiving the message this important post likewise submitted. As Clark
had secured the friendship of the Spanish commandant at St. Louis, he
felt secure from molestation for the present, and sent a party home to
Virginia with the news of his bloodless conquest. The territory north of
the Ohio was thus annexed to Virginia as the "county" of Illinois, and a
force of 500 men was raised for its defence.
[Sidenote: Capture of Vincennes, Feb. 23, 1779]
When these proceedings came to the ears of Colonel Hamilton, at Detroit,
he started out with a little army of about 500 men, regulars, Tories,
and Indians, and after a march of seventy days through the primeval
forest reached Vincennes, and took possession of it. He spent the winter
intriguing with the Indian tribes, and threatened the Spanish governor
at St. Louis with dire vengeance if he should lend aid or countenance to
the nefarious proceedings of the American rebels. Meanwhile, the crafty
Virginian was busily at work. Sending a few boats, with light artillery
and provisions, to ascend the Ohio and Wabash, Clark started overland
from Kaskaskia with 130 men; and after an arduous winter march of
sixteen days across the drowned lands in what is now the state of
Illinois, he appeared before Vincennes in time to pick up his boats and
cannon. In the evening of February 23d the town surrendered, and the
townspeople willingly assisted in the assault upon the fort. After a
brisk cannonade and musket-fire for twenty hours, Hamilton surrendered
at discretion, and British authority in this region was forever at an
end. An expedition descending from Pittsburgh in boats had already
captured Natchez and ousted the British from the lower Mississippi.
Shortly after, the Cherokees and other Indians whom Hamilton had incited
to take the war-path were overwhelmed by Colonel Shelby, and on the
upper Ohio and Alleghany the Indian country was so thoroughly devastated
by Colonel Brodhead that all along the frontier there reigned a profound
peace, instead of the intended carnival of burning and scalping.
[Sidenote: Settlement of middle Tennessee]
The stream of immigration now began to flow steadily. Fort Jefferson was
established on the Mississippi river to guard the mouth of the Ohio.
Another fortress, higher up on the beautiful river which La Salle had
discovered and Clark had conquered became the site of Louisville, so
named in honour of our ally, the French king. James Robertson again
appeared on the scene, and became the foremost pioneer in middle
Tennessee, as he had already led the colonization of the eastern part of
that great state. On a bold bluff on the southern bank of the Cumberland
river, Robertson founded a city, which took its name from the General
Nash who fell in the battle of Germantown; and among the cities of the
fair South there is to-day none more thriving than Nashville. Thus by
degrees was our grasp firmly fastened upon the western country, and year
by year it grew stronger.
[Illustration: CLARK'S FINAL SUMMONS TO HAMILTON
_Colonel Clarks Compliments to Mr Hamilton and begs
leave to inform him that Col. Clark will not agree to
any other Terms than that of Mr Hamilton's Surendering
himself and Garrison, Prisoners at Discretion._
_If Mr Hamilton is Desirous of a Conferance with Col.
Clark he will meet him at the Church with Capt^n
Helms._
_Feb 24th 1779 Ge Clark_
]
[Sidenote: Importance of Clark's conquest]
In the gallery of our national heroes, George Rogers Clark deserves a
conspicuous and honourable place. It was due to his boldness and
sagacity that when our commissioners at Paris, in 1782, were engaged in
their difficult and delicate work of thwarting our not too friendly
French ally, while arranging terms of peace with the British enemy, the
fortified posts on the Mississippi and the Wabash were held by American
garrisons. Possession is said to be nine points in the law, and while
Spain and France were intriguing to keep us out of the Mississippi
valley, we were in possession of it. The military enterprise of Clark
was crowned by the diplomacy of Jay.[26] The four cardinal events in the
history of our western frontier during the Revolution are: (1) the
defeat of the Shawnees and their allies at Point Pleasant in 1774; (2)
the defeat of the Cherokees on the Watauga in 1776; (3) Clark's conquest
of the Illinois country in 1778-79; (4) the detection and thwarting of
the French diplomacy in 1782 by Jay. When Washington took command of the
Continental army at Cambridge, in 1775, the population and jurisdiction
of the thirteen united commonwealths scarcely reached beyond the
Alleghanies; it was due to the series of events here briefly recounted
that when he laid down his command at Annapolis, in 1783, the domain of
the independent United States was bounded on the west by the Mississippi
river.
Clark's last years were spent in poverty and obscurity at his sister's
home, near Louisville, where he died in 1818. It was his younger
brother, William Clark, who in company with Meriwether Lewis made the
famous expedition to the Columbia river in 1804, thus giving the United
States a hold upon Oregon.
* * * * *
[Sidenote: Marauding expeditions]
[Sidenote: Tryon's proceedings, July, 1779]
To return to our story,--Lord George Germain's plan for breaking the
spirit of the Americans, in so far as it depended upon the barbarous aid
which his Indian allies could render, had not thus far proved very
successful. Terrible damage had been wrought on the frontier, especially
in Pennsylvania and New York, but the net result had been to weaken the
Indians and loosen the hold of the British upon the continent, while the
American position was on the whole strengthened. The warfare which the
British themselves conducted in the north after the Newport campaign
degenerated into a series of marauding expeditions unworthy of civilized
soldiers. They seem to have learned a bad lesson from their savage
allies. While Sir Henry Clinton's force was beleaguered in New York, he
now and then found opportunities for detaching some small force by sea,
to burn and plunder defenceless villages on the coast, in accordance
with Lord George's instructions. During the autumn of 1778 the pretty
island of Martha's Vineyard was plundered from end to end, the towns of
New Bedford and Fair Haven, with all the shipping in their harbours,
were burned, and similar havoc was wrought on the coast of New Jersey.
At Old Tappan some American dragoons, asleep in a barn, were captured by
Sir Charles Grey's troops,--and thirty-seven of them were bayoneted in
cold blood. Fifty-five light infantry belonging to Pulaski's legion were
similarly surprised at night by Captain Ferguson and all but five were
massacred. In May, 1779, General Mathew was sent with 2,500 men to
Virginia, where he sacked the towns of Portsmouth and Norfolk, with
cruelties worthy of a mediæval freebooter. In July the enterprising
Tryon conducted a raiding expedition along the coast of Connecticut. At
New Haven he burned the ships in the harbour and two or three streets of
warehouses, and slew several citizens; his intention was to burn the
whole town, but the neighbouring yeomanry quickly swarmed in and drove
the British to their ships. Next day the British landed at Fairfield and
utterly destroyed it. Next they burned Green Farms and then Norwalk.
After this, just as they were about to proceed against New London, they
were suddenly recalled to New York by bad news.
[Sidenote: Clinton captures the fortress at Stony Point, May 31, 1779]
In so far as these barbarous raids had any assignable military purpose,
it was hoped that they might induce Washington to weaken his force at
the Highlands by sending troops into Connecticut to protect the private
property and chastise the marauders. After the destruction of the
Highland forts in October, 1777, the defence of this most important
position had been entrusted to the powerful fortifications lately
erected at West Point. A little lower down the river two small but very
strong forts, at Stony Point on the right bank and at Verplanck's Point
on the left, guarded the entrance to the Highlands. While the fort at
Stony Point was building, Sir Henry Clinton came up the river and
captured it, and then, with the aid of its batteries, subdued the
opposite citadel also. Stony Point was a rocky promontory washed on
three sides by the waters of the Hudson. It was separated from the
mainland by a deep morass, over which ran a narrow causeway that was
covered at high tide, but might be crossed when the water was low. This
natural stronghold was armed with heavy batteries which commanded the
morass, with its causeway, and the river; and the British garrisoned it
with six hundred men, and built two additional lines of fortification,
rendering it well-nigh impregnable.
[Portrait: Anthony Wayne]
[Sidenote: The storming of Stony Point, July 16, 1779]
The acquisition of this spot seemed like the auspicious beginning of a
summer campaign for Clinton's army, which had been cooped up in New York
ever since the battle of Monmouth. To have kept on and captured West
Point would have gone a long way toward retrieving the disaster of
Saratoga, but Washington's force was so well disposed that Clinton did
not venture to attempt so much as this. Such hopes, moreover, as he may
have based upon the Connecticut raids proved entirely delusive.
Washington's method of relieving Connecticut and destroying Clinton's
scheme was different from what was expected. Among his generals was one
whom the soldiers called "Mad Anthony" for his desperate bravery, but
there was much more method than madness about Anthony Wayne. For the
union of impetuous valour with a quick eye and a cool head, he was
second to none. Twelve hundred light infantry were put at his disposal.
Every dog within three miles was slaughtered, that no indiscreet bark
might alarm the garrison. Not a gun was loaded, lest some untimely shot
betray the approaching column. The bayonet was now to be put to more
warlike use than the roasting of meat before a camp-fire. At midnight of
the 15th of July the Americans crossed the causeway at low tide, and
were close upon the outworks before their advance was discovered. The
garrison sprang to arms, and a heavy fire was opened from the batteries,
but Wayne's rush was rapid and sure. In two solid columns the Americans
came up the slope so swiftly that the grape-shot made few victims.
Shoulder to shoulder, in resistless mass, like the Theban phalanx of
Epaminondas, they pressed over the works, heedless of obstacles, and
within a few minutes the garrison surrendered at discretion. In this
assault the Americans lost fifteen killed and eighty-three wounded, and
the British sixty-three killed. The rest of the garrison, 553 in number,
including the wounded, were made prisoners, and not a man was killed in
cold blood, though the shameful scenes in Virginia were fresh in men's
memories, and the embers of Fairfield and Norwalk still smouldered. The
contemporary British historian Stedman praises Wayne for his humanity,
and thinks that he "would have been fully justified in putting the
garrison to the sword;" but certainly no laws or usages of war that
have ever obtained among the people of the United States would have
justified such a barbarous proceeding.[27]
[Illustration: HOME OF ANTHONY WAYNE]
[Sidenote: Evacuation of Stony Point]
The capture of Stony Point served the desired purpose of relieving
Connecticut, but the Americans held it but three days. Clinton at once
drew his forces together and came up the Hudson, hoping to entice
Washington into risking a battle for the sake of keeping his hold upon
Stony Point. But Washington knew better than to do so. In case of
defeat he would run risk of losing the far more important position at
West Point. He was not the man to hazard his main citadel for the sake
of an outpost. Finding that it would take more men than he could spare
to defend Stony Point against a combined attack by land and water, he
ordered it to be evacuated. The works were all destroyed, and the
garrison, with the cannon and stores, withdrawn into the Highlands. Sir
Henry took possession of the place and held it for some time, but did
not venture to advance against Washington.
[Portrait: Henry Lee]
[Sidenote: Henry Lee's exploit at Paulus Hook.]
To give the British general a wholesome sense of his adversary's
vigilance, a blow was struck in an unexpected quarter. At Paulus Hook,
on the site of the present Jersey City, the British had a very strong
fort. The "Hook" was a long low neck of land reaching out into the
Hudson. A sandy isthmus, severed by a barely fordable creek, connected
it with the mainland. Within the line of the creek, a deep ditch had
been dug across the whole isthmus, and this could only be crossed by
means of a drawbridge. Within the ditch were two lines of
intrenchments. The place was garrisoned by 500 men, but, relying on the
strength of their works and their distance from the American lines, the
garrison had grown somewhat careless. This fact was made known to
Washington by Major Henry Lee, who volunteered to surprise the fort. On
the night of the 18th of August, at the head of 300 picked men, Lee
crossed the creek which divided Paulus Hook from the mainland. A
foraging expedition had been sent out in the course of the day, and as
the Americans approached they were at first mistaken by the sentinels
for the foragers returning. Favoured by this mistake, they surmounted
all the obstacles and got possession of the fort in a twinkling. Alarm
guns, quickly answered by the ships in the river and the forts on the
New York side, warned them to retreat as fast as they had come, but not
until Lee had secured 159 prisoners, whom he carried off safely to the
Highlands, losing of his own men only two killed and three wounded. This
exploit, worthy of the good Lord James Douglas, has no military
significance save for its example of skill and boldness; but it deserves
mention for the personal interest which must ever attach to its author.
In the youthful correspondence of Washington, mention is made of a
"Lowland Beauty" for whom he entertained an unrequited passion. This
lady married a member of the illustrious Virginian family to which
Richard Henry Lee belonged. Her son, the hero of Paulus Hook, was always
a favourite with Washington, and for his dashing exploits in the later
years of the revolutionary war became endeared to the American people as
"Light Horse Harry." His noble son, Robert Edward Lee, has taken rank
among the foremost generals of modern times.
FOOTNOTES:
[21] He has been sometimes described incorrectly as a half-breed,
and even as a son of Sir William Johnson. His father was a
Mohawk, of the Wolf clan, and son of one of the five chiefs
who visited the court of Queen Anne in 1710. The name is
sometimes wrongly written "Brandt." The Indian name is
pronounced as if written "Thayendanauga," with accent on
penult. Brant was not a sachem. His eminence was personal, not
official. See Morgan, _League of the Iroquois_, p. 103.
[22] It has been shown that on this occasion Thayendanegea did what
he could to restrain the ferocity of his savage followers. See
Stone's _Life of Brant_, i. 379-381. It has more lately been
proved that Thayendanegea commanded only his own Mohawks at
Cherry Valley, and the atrocities were committed chiefly by
Senecas under the command of Sayenqueraghta. See Molly Brant's
letter in Hayden's _The Massacre of Wyoming_, Wilkes-Barré,
1895, p. xxiv.
[23] Cannon were wheeled on the solid ice from Staten Island to the
city. See Stone's _Life of Brant_, ii. 54.
[24] In a paper read before the Maryland Historical Society. See,
also, his _Logan and Cresap_, Albany, 1867. The story is well
told by Mr. Theodore Roosevelt, in his admirable book, _The
Winning of the West_, New York, 1889. Though I leave the
present chapter mainly as it was written in 1883, I have, in
revising it for publication, derived one or two valuable hints
from Mr. Roosevelt's work.
[25] This point has been well elucidated by Mr. Roosevelt in his
_Winning of the West_, vol. i. pp. 240, 306.
[26] See my _Critical Period of American History_, chap. i.
[27] "The conduct of the Americans upon this occasion was highly
meritorious: for they would have been fully justified in
putting the garrison to the sword: not one man of which was put
to death but in fair combat." Stedman's _History of the
American War_, London, 1794, vol. ii. p. 145. This remark seems
to bear unconscious testimony to the somewhat higher degree of
humanity which American civilization had reached as compared
with civilization in Europe. According to the usage inherited
from the so-called ages of chivalry, it was deemed proper to
massacre a captured garrison as a "punishment" calculated to
deter commanders from wasting lives in trying to defend
indefensible places. In the thirteenth article of the
international agreement proposed in the Brussels Conference of
1874, such slaughter is called "murder," and is strictly
prohibited; it would not now be tolerated by public opinion
anywhere in Europe outside of Turkey. In our Revolutionary War
the garrison of Fort Washington was threatened with slaughter
by General Howe, but the threat was not carried out. (See
above, vol. i. p. 230.) At the capture of Fort Griswold, Sept.
6, 1781, the massacre of the surrendered garrison has always
been rightly regarded as a foul blot upon the British record.
Mr. Lecky more than once recognizes the humanity of the
Americans, and pronounces them superior in this respect to the
British. (_History of England in the Eighteenth Century_, iv.
145, and elsewhere.) Care must be taken, however, in the
interests of historic truth, not to press this opinion too far.
A great deal of fustian has been written about the
"barbarities" of the British soldiers in the Revolutionary War.
John Adams compared those honourable and kindly gentlemen, the
brothers Howe, with such wretches as Borgia and Alva, and
suggested that "medals in gold, silver, and copper ought to be
struck in commemoration of the shocking cruelties, the brutal
barbarities, and the diabolical impieties of this war; and
these should be contrasted with the kindness, tenderness,
humanity, and philanthropy which have marked the conduct of
Americans toward their prisoners." (_Familiar Letters of John
Adams and his Wife_, p. 266.) The spirit of this quotation
pervades the late George Bancroft's narrative of the
Revolution, and fills it with a carping animosity that is
simply silly. In point of fact there was no strongly marked
difference between British and Americans in respect of
humanity. Much has been said about the horrors of the British
prison-ships in New York harbour and elsewhere (see Greene's
_Historical View_, p. 351); but the horrors of the old Newgate
prison near Granby, in my native state of Connecticut, were
even worse (see _Phelps's History of the Newgate Prison_), and
the prisons of Massachusetts were not much better. Honest men
unable to pay their debts were thrown into these frightful
dungeons and treated as brutally as ever the British treated
their prisoners of war.
Blame has been deservedly bestowed upon the British for their
employment of Indian auxiliaries; but Americans must to some
extent share the blame, for early in 1775, before the bloodshed
at Lexington, the Provincial Congress of Massachusetts enlisted
Stockbridge Indians as minute-men, and tried to prevail upon
the Six Nations "to take an active part in this glorious
cause." Indians served on the American side at the battles of
Long Island and White Plains (_New York Colonial Documents_,
viii. 740; Jones's _Annals of Oneida County_, p. 854; Winsor,
_Narr. and Crit. Hist._ vi. 612-618). In a well-known passage
of the Declaration of Independence the king is arraigned
because "he has endeavoured to bring on the inhabitants of our
frontiers the merciless Indian savages, whose known rule of
warfare is an undistinguished destruction of all ages, sexes,
and conditions." The taint of hypocrisy here is revealed by the
fact that Congress had on June 3 authorized Washington to
employ 2,000 Indians in Canada; and on July 8 it further
empowered him to enlist the tribes in eastern Maine and Nova
Scotia. These orders were in pursuance of a resolve of May 25,
that "it is highly expedient to engage the Indians in the
service of the United Colonies." (_Secret Journals of
Congress_, p. 44; cf. Washington's _Writings_, ed. Ford, iv.
140, 154, 168.) Washington approved of this hiring of Indians.
On the whole, as so often happens, we held up our hands in holy
horror at other people for doing what we did not scruple to do
ourselves.
Among the articles adopted at the Brussels Conference of 1874 was
one to the effect that "the population of an occupied territory
cannot be compelled to take part in military operations against
their own country, nor to swear allegiance to the enemy's
power." (Farrer, _Military Manners and Customs_, p. 12.) No
such rule was recognized a century ago. In South Carolina the
British commanders shot as deserters persons captured in fight
after having once accepted British protection. The execution of
Col. Isaac Hayne, an eminent citizen, under peculiarly
aggravating circumstances, by order of Lord Rawdon, called
forth intense indignation. But it should not be forgotten that
Greene also, on several occasions, shot as deserters persons
found in the enemy's ranks after serving in his own. Such was
the military usage at that time.
A good many of the charges of cruelty, alleged on either side,
must be taken with allowances for gross exaggeration. For
example, at Concord, April 19, 1775, a farmer's boy, in combat
with a wounded soldier, struck him on the head with a hatchet
and killed him. This incident, as magnified by the British, gave
rise to the statement that the Americans mutilated and scalped
the wounded soldiers lying on the road; a statement which is
still sometimes repeated, although it was long ago proved to be
false.
On the whole, while I agree with Mr. Lecky that the Americans
behaved with more humanity than their antagonists, it does not
appear that the difference was a wide one. To the credit of
both sides it may be said that there was less barbarity than
was usual in European wars before the nineteenth century.