THE next eight days were with the older people at Crag Cottage, as
with the rest of the nation, days of anxiety and alternating hope and
fear with regard to the dastardly attack upon the President of the
United States. After that came the sad news of his death, and there was
mourning all over the land, but mourning mingled with gladness that so
good and capable a successor had been provided that the country seemed
in no danger.
Eva was able to sit up now a part of each day, and her baby growing
fairer, beginning to smile and to coo very prettily, thought her young
mother and aunts—to say nothing of her proud and happy father. Max
wanted to see wife and baby safe in their Sunnyside home, and all began
to talk gaily of soon starting on their often-made southward trip in
the Dolphin.
Grandma Elsie, doing all in her power for every one’s welfare and
enjoyment, seemed content to go or to stay, as did her son Harold and
his Grace; it mattered little to them where they were if only they
might be together. The two couples—Captain Raymond and Violet, and Mr.
and Mrs. Leland—seemed to enjoy themselves and to feel indifferent in
regard to the exact time of leaving.
The days passed very pleasantly; there were walks and drives, trips
up and down the river in the Dolphin, hours passed upon the porch, if
the weather were fine, or the parlor, if it happened to be stormy, in
cheerful chat, amusing games, or listening to interesting stories from
Grandma Elsie or the captain.
And so the days and weeks rolled on until September was gone and
October had come in. Then they felt that they must go—the calls from
the loved southern homes were so many and so loud and re-echoed by
their own hearts. They wanted to go, yet it seemed a trifle saddening
to think of leaving this sweet place on the grand old Hudson River.
The last evening of their stay was lovely and warm for the season, and
until the children’s bedtime they passed it on the front porch, where
they had a view of the river.
A pause in the conversation was broken by a request from Elsie Raymond.
“Papa, won’t you tell us about another of the Revolutionary officers?”
“I am very willing to do so, daughter, but which shall it be?” the
captain asked.
“I should like to hear about General Greene, if the rest of the folks
here would,” she answered, glancing from one to another.
“I think we would all be pleased to hear about him,” said Grandma
Elsie, “for surely he was next to Washington in bravery, talent for the
work in hand, and success in using it.”
So the captain began.
“I think he had no other superior than Washington in the art and
practice of war. He was a native of Rhode Island, the son of Quaker
parents, brought up to be industrious and painstaking, and managed to
get a good education largely by his own determined efforts in private
study of ancient and English history, law, geometry and moral and
political science; he was also fond of reading books upon war.
“Some few years before the Revolutionary War he was chosen a member of
the Rhode Island Assembly, and was one of those who engaged in military
exercises as a preparation for the coming struggle with England for the
freedom which belonged of right to the people of this land.
“In 1774 he enlisted as private, and in 1775 was appointed to the
command of the Rhode Island contingent of the army at Boston, with
the rank of brigadier-general. He was with Montgomery and Arnold in
their invasion of Canada. He was made a major-general in 1775, and
distinguished himself in the battles of Trenton and Princeton.
“He commanded a division at the battle of Brandywine and did great
service there. It is said that by his skilful movements then and there
he saved the American army from utter destruction. He had part in the
battle of Germantown also, commanding the left wing.
“Soon after the taking of Andre Washington sent orders to General
Greene to put the left wing of the army near Tappan in motion as soon
as possible, and march toward King’s Ferry. It was midnight when the
express reached Greene’s quarters; before dawn the whole division was
upon the march. But I think you are all pretty well acquainted with the
story of Andre, his doings and consequent end; so I shall not repeat it
here and now.”
“But, papa, won’t you go a little more into the details of the battle
of Brandywine?” asked Grace.
“Certainly, if you wish it,” he replied. “Greene’s work was very
important there. The British army was very much stronger than ours—they
having eighteen thousand men, while ours were only eleven thousand.
Washington had a very strong position at Chadd’s and Brinton’s Fords.
The British hoped to drive him from it in turning his right flank by
a circuitous march of eighteen miles up the Lancaster road and across
the forks of the Brandywine toward Birmingham meeting-house. The
British were safe in trying to do this, because their force was large
enough to enable them to separate the wings of their army with little
risk. Cornwallis conducted the movement in an admirable manner, but
did not succeed in striking the American flank, because Washington
made a new front with his right wing under Sullivan, near Birmingham
meeting-house, so that Sullivan received the attack on his front.
“A desperate fight ensued, in which the British army, being so superior
in numbers to ours, at length succeeded in pushing Sullivan obliquely
toward the village of Dilworth. Had they succeeded in completing
that movement it would have cut the American army in two and utterly
routed it. But Washington sent a prompt order to General Greene, who
commanded the centre behind Chadd’s Ford. Washington’s order was to
stop the dangerous gap, and on receiving it Greene immediately obeyed,
marching his troops five miles in forty-five minutes, and connecting
with Sullivan near Dilworth, he averted the impending destruction of
the army. Wayne had time to withdraw the centre and Armstrong the right
wing, all in good order, and the whole army was united at Chester in
excellent condition.”
“It strikes me,” remarked Doctor Harold, “that was hardly a defeat
of our troops—the same careless writers have vaguely described the
American army as routed at the battle of Brandywine. Surely an army
cannot properly be said to be routed when it is ready to begin to fight
again the next day.”
“No,” replied the captain, “and the fact that Washington’s manœuvring
prevented Howe’s return to Philadelphia for fifteen days shows that
the Americans were not routed; and what saved from that was Greene’s
memorable double-quick march to Dilworth and his admirable manner of
sustaining the fight at that critical point.
“On the 26th of September, Howe, having eluded Washington on the
Schuylkill, entered Philadelphia, stationing the bulk of his army in
Germantown, and on the 4th of October the battle of Germantown was
fought. Greene, intending to attack the front of the British right
wing, was delayed by the difficulties of his route and the mistake of
the guide, so did not get to the field as early as was planned, and the
ground assigned to him was accidentally occupied by Wayne.
“When victory seemed almost won an unfortunate mishap turned the tide,
and General Greene again with wonderful skill covered the retreat.
“In 1778 he was made quartermaster-general, accepting the office at
Washington’s earnest solicitation, but reserving his right to command
on the field of battle.
“On the 18th of June the British evacuated Philadelphia, and took up
their line of march through the Jerseys. Hamilton and Greene urged
giving them battle, and on the 28th of June a general attack was made
on Clinton’s forces at Monmouth Court House.
“After the battle Washington marched northward, crossed the Hudson, and
encamped in Westchester County, while Clinton continued his retreat to
New York.
“And Greene, taking no rest, immediately attended to the numerous
orders and dispositions required of him as quartermaster-general.
“On the coming of the French fleet it was decided to make a combined
attack upon Newport. Greene wished to take part in it, and in August he
took up his quarters with one division of the army at Tiverton.
“But the French had a variety of mishaps, chief among them the
disablement of their fleet by a tremendous gale.
“Soon afterward Greene went to Philadelphia, at Washington’s request,
to tell Congress of the late expedition and the causes of its failure,
and there he was received with distinguished consideration.
“The winter of 1780 was one of great suffering to the American troops,
for the lack of food and proper shelter. Congress seems to have been
shamefully neglectful of them.
“Greene did so much for his country during the Revolutionary War that
to tell of it all would make my story too long for to-night; but I
shall try to give you some of the most interesting items.
“Greene was president of the board convened for Andre’s trial as a
spy in connection with Arnold’s treason. With tears Greene signed the
decree of the court condemning Andre to death.
“It has been asserted, but not confirmed, that Greene cast a deciding
vote in the council against granting Andre’s prayer to be shot instead
of hanged. The reason given was that if punished at all, Andre should
receive the punishment meted to spies, according to the laws of war.
“Greene was given the post at West Point after it was left vacant by
Arnold’s treason. Greene assumed the command early in October, 1780,
but the failure of Gates in the southern field caused his recall in
August, and by common consent Greene was considered the best man fit to
retrieve the fortunes of the southern army.
“Congress empowered Washington to ask Greene to take Gates’ late
command. Greene accepted the offered post and found a formidable
task awaiting him. He took the command at Charlotte, 2d of December,
1780. In front of him was an army of three thousand two hundred and
twenty-four men abundantly clothed and fed, well disciplined, elated
with victory and led by an able general.
“To oppose this force he had an army of two thousand three hundred and
seven, of whom one thousand four hundred and eighty-two were present
and fit for duty, five hundred and forty-seven were absent on command,
and one hundred and twenty-eight were detached on extra service; all
these were half fed, scantily clothed, cast down by defeat, and many
of them defiant of all discipline. Also the country was infested with
Tories.
“To Greene’s bright mind it was evident that he could not face
Cornwallis with such inferior numbers, and he resolved to divide his
forces, by which means he might secure an abundance of food, keep the
enemy within narrow bounds, cut them off from supplies from the upper
country, revive the drooping spirits of the inhabitants, threaten the
posts and communications of the enemy, and compel him to delay his
threatened invasion of North Carolina.
“With the purpose of threatening the British left flank, Morgan was
detached with his famous Maryland brigade, and Colonel Washington’s
light dragoons, to take up a position near the confluence of Pacolet
and Broad Rivers.
“With the other division, Greene, after a laborious march through a
barren country, took post at Hick’s Creek on the Pedee, near the South
Carolina line.
“Tarleton was hastening forward with his troops, expecting to strike
a decisive blow at Morgan, whom it seems he despised, probably deeming
him very inferior to himself in military knowledge and skill.
“He found Morgan, Colonel Washington and their troops prepared to
receive him and his. Then followed the battle of the Cowpens, of which
I told you the other day.
“Cornwallis was furious over that defeat, and set out at once in
pursuit of Morgan, leaving behind whatever might hinder his movements.”
“But he didn’t catch him,” cried Ned, clapping his hands with a gleeful
laugh.
“No,” said the captain, “Morgan managed to keep out of his reach,
crossed the river first and kept on into North Carolina.
“But to tell in detail of all Greene’s doings down there in the
Carolinas and Georgia would make too long a story for to-night.
“On the 9th of February, 1781, Greene, by a most brilliant march,
succeeded in bringing together the two divisions of his army at
Guilford Court House. He had expected reinforcements from Virginia, but
as they had not yet arrived, he decided to retreat toward them and put
the broad river Dan between the enemy and himself. In that he succeeded
without loss of men, baggage or stores.
“Cornwallis had been pursuing him for two hundred miles, but his
troops were now weary and discouraged by their fruitless march, and he
therefore prudently retired to Hillsborough.
“However, Greene soon received his reinforcements, and, crossing the
Dan, came to battle with Cornwallis at Guilford Court House. That
battle was a tactical success for the British, yet the Americans gained
a decided strategic advantage, for the enemy—too much shattered to go
on with the contest—retired to Wilmington, and from there moved into
Virginia to effect a junction with General Phillips.
“Then Greene at once turned southward with his army. His reasons
were given in a letter to Washington: ‘I am determined to carry the
war immediately into South Carolina,’ he wrote. ‘The enemy will be
obliged to follow us, or give up the posts in that state.’ If the enemy
did follow, it would take the war out of North Carolina, where the
inhabitants had suffered great loss from them, and if the enemy left
the posts in South Carolina to fall, he would lose far more than he
could gain in Virginia.
“In the latter part of April of that year, the American army
established itself in a strong position on Hobkirk’s Hill, near Camden,
and on the 25th the British, under Lord Rawdon, attacked it there. It
was exactly what Greene had been preparing for.
“The assault ought to have resulted in the total ruin of the British
army; but through an accidental misunderstanding of orders, Greene’s
very best men in the Maryland brigade behaved badly and he was forced
to abandon his position. Yet, as usual, he reaped the fruits of victory.
“He had sent Marion and Lee to take Fort Watson, and their effort had
been a brilliant success, and now obliged Rawdon to abandon Camden and
fall back toward Charleston.
“Greene now had everything in his own hands, and went on taking fort
after fort from the enemy, and also all the back country of South
Carolina and Georgia.
“Now, Greene’s army had been moving and fighting for seven months. Of
course, they must have been tired; so he gave them a rest of about six
weeks in a secure position on the high hills of Santee.
“After that he met the British army, now under the command of Stuart,
in a decisive action at Eutaw Springs.
“In the morning the British were driven off the field by a superb
charge on their left flank; but after retreating some distance in
disorder, they rallied in a strong position, protected by a brick
house and palisaded garden, and succeeded in remaining there during
the afternoon, but only because Greene desisted from further attack
until the cool of the evening. For thus holding their position merely
on sufferance the British army absurdly claimed a victory, and some
careless American writers—who ought to know better—have repeated the
error. Greene foresaw that the British must retreat at night; they did
so, and he then renewed his attack. They were chased nearly thirty
miles by Marion and Lee, and very many of them taken prisoners. Of
the two thousand and three hundred men with whom Stuart had gone into
battle, scarcely more than one thousand reached Charleston. There they
remained for the next fourteen months, shut up under the shelter of
their fleet.”
“The battle of Eutaw Springs was a great victory for the Americans,
wasn’t it, father?” asked Grace.
“It was, indeed, a decisive and final one,” he replied; “at least,
so far as the Americans in South Carolina were concerned. Congress
testified its appreciation of it by a vote of thanks and a gold medal.”
“What was the date of that battle, father?” asked Lucilla.
“Battle of Eutaw Springs? Eighth of September, 1781. On the 14th
of December, 1782, Greene marched into Charleston at the head of
his army, and the next summer, when the army was disbanded, he went
home. On his way there he stopped in Philadelphia and was greeted
there by enthusiastic crowds and treated with great consideration by
Congress—the men who had come so near depriving the country of his
services.”
“Was the war over then, papa?” asked Elsie.
“England had not yet acknowledged our independence,” replied her
father, “but did so on November 30, 1782, when preliminaries of peace
were signed; those were changed into a definite peace on September 3,
1783.”
“But is that all the story about General Greene, papa?” asked Ned.
“Not quite,” replied his father. “Some two years after the war was over
he removed to a plantation which the State of Georgia had presented
to him, doubtless in acknowledgment of his great services there in
ridding them of British tyranny. He is said to have lived there very
happily, with a good wife and many congenial friends, in spite of
having, through the dishonesty of an army contractor for whom he had
become security, to bear a heavy pecuniary responsibility. He did not
live to be old, dying at the age of forty-four from sunstroke.”
“What a pity!” exclaimed Elsie. “Had he any children, papa?”
“Yes; two sons and three daughters.”
“I think they must have been very proud of their father,” she said,
after a moment’s thoughtful silence. “Thank you, papa, for telling us
about him. I’d like to know about all my countrymen who have been great
and good and useful.”
“As we all would,” added Lucilla; “and we may be thankful that we have
a father who is able and kind enough to tell us so much.”
“Yes, indeed!” responded Elsie earnestly, and with a loving look up
into her father’s eyes. “I thank him very much, and hope I shall never
forget the good history lessons he has given us.”
“And now it is time for my birdlings to go to their nests,” said
Violet, rising and taking Ned’s hand. “Bid good-night to papa and the
rest and we will go.”