WASHINGTON ON HIS WAY TO THE CAMP.
In a preceding chapter we left Washington preparing to depart from
Philadelphia for the army before Boston. He set out on horseback on
the 21st of June, having for military companions of his journey
Major-generals Lee and Schuyler, and being accompanied for a distance
by several private friends. As an escort he had a "gentleman troop" of
Philadelphia, commanded by Captain Markoe; the whole formed a
brilliant cavalcade.
General Schuyler was a man eminently calculated to sympathize with
Washington in all his patriotic views and feelings, and became one of
his most faithful coadjutors. Sprung from one of the earliest and most
respectable Dutch families which colonized New York, all his interests
and affections were identified with the country. He had received a
good education; applied himself at an early age to the exact sciences,
and became versed in finance, military engineering, and political
economy. He was one of those native born soldiers who had acquired
experience in that American school of arms, the old French war. Since
the close of the French war he had served his country in various civil
stations, and been one of the most zealous and eloquent vindicators of
colonial rights.
They had scarcely proceeded twenty miles from Philadelphia when they
were met by a courier, spurring with all speed, bearing despatches
from the army to Congress, communicating tidings of the battle of
Bunker's Hill. Washington eagerly inquired particulars; above all, how
acted the militia? When told that they stood their ground bravely,
sustained the enemy's fire--reserved their own until at close
quarters, and then delivered it with deadly effect, it seemed as if a
weight of doubt and solicitude were lifted from his heart. "The
liberties of the country are safe!" exclaimed he.
The news of the battle of Bunker's Hill had startled the whole
country; and this clattering cavalcade, escorting the commander-in-chief
to the army, was the gaze and wonder of every town and village.
The journey may be said to have been a continual council of war
between Washington and the two generals. One of the most frequent
subjects of conversation was the province of New York. Its power and
position rendered it the great link of the confederacy; what measures
were necessary for its defence, and most calculated to secure its
adherence to the cause? The population of New York was more varied in
its elements than that of almost any other of the provinces, and had
to be cautiously studied. The New Yorkers were of a mixed origin, and
stamped with the peculiarities of their respective ancestors. The
descendants of the old Dutch and Huguenot families, the earliest
settlers, were still among the soundest and best of the population.
They inherited the love of liberty, civil and religious, of their
forefathers, and were those who stood foremost in the present struggle
for popular rights. A great proportion of the more modern families,
dating from the downfall of the Dutch government in 1664, were English
and Scotch, and among these were many loyal adherents to the crown.
There was a power, too, of a formidable kind within the interior of
the province, which was an object of much solicitude. This was the
"Johnson Family." We have repeatedly had occasion to speak of Sir
William Johnson, his majesty's general agent for Indian affairs, of
his great wealth, and his almost sovereign sway over the Six Nations.
In the recent difficulties between the crown and colonies, Sir William
had naturally been in favor of the government which had enriched and
honored him, but he had viewed with deep concern the acts of
Parliament which were goading the colonists to armed resistance. In
the height of his solicitude, he received despatches ordering him, in
case of hostilities, to enlist the Indians in the cause of government.
To the agitation of feelings produced by these orders many have
attributed a stroke of apoplexy, of which he died, on the 11th of
July, 1774, about a year before the time of which we are treating. His
son and heir, Sir John Johnson, and his sons-in-law, Colonel Guy
Johnson and Colonel Claus felt none of the reluctance of Sir William
to use harsh measures in support of royalty. They lived in a degree of
rude feudal style in stone mansions capable of defence, situated on
the Mohawk River and in its vicinity; they had many Scottish
Highlanders for tenants; and among their adherents were violent men,
such as the Butlers of Tryon County, and Brant, the Mohawk sachem,
since famous in Indian warfare. They had recently gone about with
armed retainers, overawing and breaking up patriotic assemblages, and
it was known they could at any time bring a force of warriors in the
field.
Tryon, the governor of New York, was at present absent in England,
having been called home by the ministry to give an account of the
affairs of the province, and to receive instructions for its
management. He was a tory in heart, and had been a zealous opponent of
all colonial movements, and his talents and address gave him great
influence over an important part of the community. Should he return
with hostile instructions, and should he and the Johnsons co-operate,
the one controlling the bay and harbor of New York and the waters of
the Hudson by means of ships and land forces; the others overrunning
the valley of the Mohawk and the regions beyond Albany with savage
hordes, this great central province might be wrested from the
confederacy, and all intercourse broken off between the eastern and
southern colonies. All these circumstances and considerations, many of
which came under discussion in the course of this military journey,
rendered the command of New York a post of especial trust and
importance, and determined Washington to confide it to General
Schuyler. He was peculiarly fitted for it by his military talents, his
intimate knowledge of the province and its concerns, especially what
related to the upper parts of it, and his experience in Indian
affairs.
At Newark, in the Jerseys, Washington was met on the 25th by a
committee of the provincial Congress, sent to conduct him to the city.
The Congress was in a perplexity. It had in a manner usurped and
exercised the powers of Governor Tryon during his absence, while at
the same time it professed allegiance to the crown which had appointed
him. He was now in the harbor, just arrived from England, and hourly
expected to land. Washington, too, was approaching. How were these
double claims to ceremonious respect happening at the same time to be
managed?
In this dilemma a regiment of militia was turned out, and the colonel
instructed to pay military honors to whichever of the distinguished
functionaries should first arrive. Washington was earlier than the
governor by several hours, and received those honors. The landing of
Governor Tryon took place about eight o'clock in the evening. The
military honors were repeated; he was received with great respect by
the mayor and common council, and transports of loyalty by those
devoted to the crown. It was unknown what instructions he had received
from the ministry, but it was rumored that a large force would soon
arrive from England, subject to his directions. At this very moment a
ship of war, the Asia, lay anchored opposite the city; its grim
batteries bearing upon it, greatly to the disquiet of the
faint-hearted among its inhabitants. In this situation of affairs
Washington was happy to leave such an efficient person as General
Schuyler in command of the place.
In the meantime the provincial Congress of Massachusetts, then in
session at Watertown, had made arrangements for the expected arrival
of Washington. It sent on a deputation which met Washington at
Springfield, on the frontiers of the province, and provided escorts
and accommodations for him along the road. Thus honorably attended
from town to town, and escorted by volunteer companies and cavalcades
of gentlemen, he arrived at Watertown on the 2d of July, where he was
greeted by Congress with a congratulatory address, in which, however,
was frankly stated the undisciplined state of the army he was summoned
to command. An address of cordial welcome was likewise made to General
Lee.
The ceremony over, Washington was again in the saddle, and escorted by
a troop of light horse and a cavalcade of citizens, proceeded to the
head-quarters provided for him at Cambridge, three miles distant. As
he entered the confines of the camp, the shouts of the multitude and
the thundering of artillery gave note to the enemy beleaguered in
Boston of his arrival.
His military reputation had preceded him and excited great
expectations. They were not disappointed. His personal appearance,
notwithstanding the dust of travel, was calculated to captivate the
public eye. As he rode through the camp, amidst a throng of officers,
he was the admiration of the soldiery and of a curious throng
collected from the surrounding country. Happy was the countryman who
could get a full view of him to carry home an account of it to his
neighbors.
With Washington, modest at all times, there was no false excitement on
the present occasion; nothing to call forth emotions of
self-glorification. The honors and congratulations with which he was
received, the acclamations of the public, the cheerings of the army,
only told him how much was expected from him; and when he looked round
upon the raw and rustic levies he was to command, "a mixed multitude
of people, under very little discipline, order, or government,"
scattered in rough encampments about hill and dale, beleaguering a
city garrisoned by veteran troops, with ships of war anchored about
its harbor, and strong outposts guarding it, he felt the awful
responsibility of his situation, and the complicated and stupendous
task before him. He spoke of it, however, not despondingly nor
boastfully and with defiance; but with that solemn and sedate
resolution, and that hopeful reliance on Supreme Goodness, which
belonged to his magnanimous nature.