command amounted to fully two-thirds of the British Army in Boston,
and yet they must fly before the Americans speedily and fleetly, or
be overwhelmed. Two wagons, sent out to them with supplies, were
waylaid and captured by Payson, the minister of Chelsea. From far and
wide Minute Men were gathering. The men of Dedham, even the old men,
received their minister's blessing and went forth, in such numbers that
scarce one male between sixteen and seventy was left at home. That
morning William Prescott mustered his regiment, and though Pepperell
was so remote that he could not be in season for the pursuit, he
hastened down with five companies of guards. Before noon a messenger
rode at full speed into Worcester, crying: "To arms!" A fresh horse was
brought and the tidings went on, while the Minute Men of that town,
after joining hurriedly on the common in a fervent prayer from their
minister, kept on the march till they reached Cambridge.
Aware of his perilous position, Percy, resting but half an hour,
renewed his retreat.
Beyond Lexington the troops were attacked by men chiefly from Essex
and the lower towns. The fire from the rebels slackened till they
approached West Cambridge, where Joseph Warren and William Heath, both
of the committee of safety, the latter a provincial general officer,
gave for a moment some appearance of organization to the pursuit, and
the fight grew sharper and more determined. Here the company from
Danvers, which made a breastwork of a pile of shingles, lost eight men,
caught between the enemy's flank guard and main body. Here, too, a
musket ball grazed the hair of Joseph Warren, whose heart beat to arms,
so that he was ever in the place of greatest danger. The British became
more and more "exasperated" and indulged themselves in savage cruelty.
In one house they found two aged, helpless, unarmed men and butchered
them both without mercy, stabbing them, breaking their skulls and
dashing out their brains. Hannah Adams, wife of Deacon Joseph Adams, of
Cambridge, lay in child-bed with a babe of a week old, but was forced
to crawl with her infant in her arms and almost naked to a corn shed,
while the soldiers set her house on fire. Of the Americans there were
never more than four hundred together at any time; but, as some grew
tired or used up their ammunition, others took their places, and though
there was not much concert or discipline and no attack with masses, the
pursuit never flagged.
Below West Cambridge the militia from Dorchester, Roxbury and Brookline
came up. Of these, Isaac Gardner, of the latter place, one on whom the
colony rested many hopes, fell about a mile west of Harvard College.
The field pieces began to lose their terror, so that the Americans
pressed upon the rear of the fugitives, whose retreat was as rapid
as it possibly could be. A little after sunset the survivors escaped
across Charlestown Neck.
The troops of Percy had marched thirty miles in ten hours; the party
of Smith in six hours had retreated twenty miles; the guns of the
ship-of-war and the menace to burn the town of Charlestown saved them
from annoyance during the rest on Bunker Hill and while they were
ferried across Charles River.
On that day forty-nine Americans were killed, thirty-four wounded
and five missing. The loss of the British in killed, wounded and
missing was two hundred and seventy-three. Among the wounded were many
officers; Smith was hurt severely. Many more were disabled by fatigue.
"The night preceding the outrages at Lexington there were not fifty
people in the whole colony that ever expected any blood would be shed
in the contest"; the night after, the king's governor and the king's
army found themselves closely beleaguered in Boston.
"The next news from England must be conciliatory, or the connection
between us ends," said Warren. "This month," so wrote William Emerson,
of Concord, late chaplain to the Provincial Congress, chronicled in a
blank leaf of his almanac, "is remarkable for the greatest events of
the present age." "From the nineteenth of April, 1775," said Clark, of
Lexington, on its first anniversary, "will be dated the liberty of the
American world."
NOTE.--The principal part of this account of the Battle of Lexington is
taken from Banecroft's history.--_American Monthly Magazine._
SIGNERS OF DECLARATION.
(Poem that embraces the names of the famous Americans.)
It will not be denied that the men who, on July 4, 1776, pledged "their
lives, their fortunes and their sacred honor" in behalf of our national
liberty deserve the most profound reverence from every American
citizen. By arranging in rhyme the names of the signers according
to the colonies from which they were delegated it will assist the
youthful learner in remembering the names of those fathers of American
Independence.
I.
The Massachusetts delegation
That signed our glorious Declaration
Where Hancock, Gerry, Robert Paine,
The great John Adams, and again
Another Adams, Samuel by name.
II.
New Hampshire, called the "Granite State,"
Sent Whipple, Bartlett, Thornton great,
Alike in counsel and debate.
III.
Rhode Island's delegates, we see,
Were Stephen Hopkins and Ellery.
IV.
Connecticut, excelled by none,
With Wolcott, Williams and Huntington.
V.
New York as delegates employed
Lewis Morris and William Floyd,
With Francis Lewis and Livingston,
Who died before the war was done.
VI.
New Jersey to the congress sent
Her honored college president,
John Witherspoon, with Stockton, Clark,
Hart, Hopkinson--all men of mark.
VII.
Though Pennsylvania need not blush
For Morris, Morton, Wilson, Rush,
And though most men might seem as dross
To Cylmer, Taylor, Smith and Ross,
To Franklin each his tribute brings
Who neither lightning feared, nor kings.
VIII.
The men from Delaware--indeed
As true as steel in utmost need--
Were Rodney, with McKean and Read.
IX.
"My Maryland" is proud to own
Her Carroll, Paca, Chase and Stone.
X.
On old Virginia's roll we see
The gifted Richard Henry Lee,
And, just as earnest to be free.
His brother, Francis Lightfoot Lee,
And Wythe and Nelson, patriots true,
With Harrison and Braxton, too;
But of them all, there was not one
As great as Thomas Jefferson.
XI.
North Carolina's chosen men
We know were Hooper, Hewes and Penn.
XII.
And South Carolina's vote was one--
By Heyward, Lynch and Middleton.
XIII.
From Georgia came Gwinnett and Hall
And Walton, too, the last of all
Who signed our precious Declaration
The pride and glory of the nation.
LIFE AT VALLEY FORGE.
MRS. HARRIET D. EISENBERG.
I have chosen to look up particulars concerning the daily life of
the soldier at Valley Forge in the awful winter of 1777-8. And as no
historian can picture the life of any period so vividly as it may be
described by those who were participants in that life, or eye witnesses
of it, I have gathered the materials for this paper from diaries of
those who were there, from accounts by men whose friends were in the
camp, from letters sent to and from the camp, and from the orderly book
of a general who kept a strict report of the daily orders issued by the
Commander-in-chief, from the fall campaign of 1777, to the late spring
of 1778.
It is unnecessary to reiterate what all of us know,--that the winter of
'77-8 was the blackest time of the war of Independence, and it was made
so, not only by the machinations of the enemies of Washington who were
striving to displace him as Commander-in-Chief, but by the unparalleled
severity of the winter and the dearth of the commonest necessaries of
life. The sombreness of the picture is emphasized by contrast with
the brightness and gaiety that characterized the life in Philadelphia
during that same winter when the British troops occupied the city.
There a succession of brilliant festivities was going on, the gaieties
culminating in the meschianza that most gorgeous spectacle ever given
by an army to its retiring officer, when Peggy Shippen and Sallie Chew
danced the night away with the scarlet-coated officers of the British
army, while fathers and brothers were suffering on the hills above the
Schuylkill.
Why did Washington elect to put his army in winter-quarters? He himself
answers the question, which was asked by congress who objected to the
army's going into winter quarters at all. The campaign, which had seen
the battles of the Brandywine and of Germantown, was over; the British
were in possession of Philadelphia; the army was fatigued and there
was little chance of recuperation from sources already heavily drained.
Hence a winter's rest was necessary. And Washington's own words, as he
issued the orders for the day on December 23d, tell us why Valley Forge
was chosen.
"The General wishes it was in his power to conduct the troops
into the best winter quarters; but where are those to be found?
Should we retire into the interior portions of the country, we
should find them crowded with virtuous citizens who, sacrificing
their all, have left Philadelphia, and fled hither for protection.
To their distress, humanity forbids us to add. This is not all.
We should leave a vast extent of fertile country to be despoiled
and ravaged by the enemy. These and other considerations make
it necessary to take such a position (as this), and influenced
by these considerations he persuades himself that officers and
soldiers, with one heart and one mind, will resolve to surmount
every difficulty with the fortitude and patience becoming their
profession and the Sacred Cause in which they are engaged. He
himself, will share in the hardships, and partake of every
inconvenience."
And with this resolve on his part, kept faithfully through the long
weeks, the bitter winter was begun.
It was on December 12th that a bridge of wagons was made across the
Schuylkill and the army, already sick and broken down, moved over. On
that day, Dr. Waldo, a surgeon from Connecticut made this entry in his
diary:
"Sunset. We are ordered to march over the river. I'm sick--eat
nothing--no whiskey--no baggage. Lord-Lord-Lord."
A few days later he makes this entry:
"The army, who have been surprisingly healthy hitherto, now begin
to grow sickly. They still show alacrity and contentment not to be
expected from so young troops.
"I am sick, discontented, out of humor. Poor food, hard
lodging--cold weather--fatigue--nasty clothes--nasty
cooking--smoked out of my senses, vomit half my time--the Devil's
in it. I can't endure it.
"Here comes a bowl of soup--full of burnt leaves and dirt.--Away
with it, boys. I'll live like the chameleon upon air. 'Pooh-pooh,'
says Patience. You talk like a fool.--See the poor soldier--with
what cheerfulness he meets his foes and encounters hardships. If
bare of foot he labors through mud and cold, with a song extolling
war and Washington. If his food is bad he eats it with contentment
and whistles it into digestion.--There comes a soldier--his bare
feet are seen through his worn out shoes. His legs are nearly naked
from his tattered remains of an old pair of stockings--his shirt
hanging in strings,--his hair dishevelled--his face meagre--his
whole appearance pictures a person forsaken and discouraged. He
comes and cries with despair--I am sick. My feet are lame--my legs
are sore--my body covered with tormenting itch--my clothes worn
out--my constitution broken. I fail fast. I shall soon be no more.
And all the reward I shall get will be--'Poor Will is dead.'"
On the 21st of December this entry appears:
"A general cry through the camp this evening: 'no meat--no meat.'
The distant vales echo back--'no meat.' 'What have you for dinner,
Boys?' 'Nothing but fire-cake and water, sir! At night. 'Gentlemen,
supper is ready.' 'What is your supper, lads?' 'Fire-cake and water
Sir.'"
Again on December 22d:
"Lay excessive cold and uncomfortable last night. My eyes started
out of their orbits like a rabbit's eyes, occasioned by a great
cold and smoke. Huts go slowly. Cold and smoke make us fret.--I
don't know anything that vexes a man's soul more than hot smoke
continually blowing into one's eyes, and when he attempts to avoid
it, he is met by a cold and freezing wind."
On December 25th, Xmas, this entry:
"Still in tents. The sick suffer much in tents. We give them mutton
and grog and capital medicine it is once in a while."
January 1st:
"I am alive. I am well. Huts go on briskly."
I have quoted thus lengthily from this diary, which gives, perhaps,
the most vivid picture we possess of that dark period, simply because
it touches upon almost all that concerns the life of the soldiers that
winter,--upon their dwellings, their food, their health, their courage.
The Doctor repeatedly speaks of the huts which were to shelter the men.
In the order issued by Washington to his generals early in December,
directions were given concerning the construction of these dwellings.
According to these directions, the major-generals, accompanied by the
engineers, were to fix on the proper spot for hutting. The sunside of
the hills was chosen, and here they constructed long rows of log huts,
and made numerous stockades and bristling pikes for defence along the
line of the trench. For these purposes and for their fuel they cut off
an entire forest of timber. Can't you hear the steady crash of the ax
held by hands benumbed with the cold, as blow, by blow, they felled
the trees on the hillside, eager to erect the crude huts which were to
give better shelter than the tents in which they were yet shivering and
choking? In cutting their fire wood, the soldiers were directed to save
such parts of each tree as would do for building, reserving 16 or 18
feet of trunk for logs to rear their huts. "The quartermaster-general,
(so says the order of December 20th) is to delay no time, but procure
large quantities of straw, either for covering the huts or for beds."
This last item would suggest the meagreness of the furnishing.
Throughout the entire winter the soldier could look for few of the
barest necessities of life. An order from headquarters directed that
each hut should be provided with a pail. Dishes were a rarity. Each
soldier carried his knife in his pocket, while one horn spoon, a pewter
dish, and a horn tumbler into which whiskey rarely entered, did duty
for a whole mess. The eagerness to possess a single dish is illustrated
by an anecdote which has come down in my own family, if I may presume
to narrate it. My Revolutionary ancestor was a manufacturer of pottery.
In the leisure hours of this bitter time at Valley Forge, he built a
kiln and burnt some pottery. Just as it was time to open the ovens, a
band of soldiers rushed upon them, tearing them down, and triumphantly
marched off with their prize, leaving Captain Piercy as destitute of
dishes as before.
As for the food that was meant to sustain the defenders of our liberty,
the diary I have quoted, together with Washington's daily orders, gives
us sufficient information to enable us to judge of its meagreness.
Often their food was salted herring so decayed that it had to be dug
'en masse' from the barrels. Du Poncean, a young officer, aid to Baron
Steuben, related to a friend, a few years after the war, some facts of
stirring interest. "They bore," he says, "with fortitude and patience.
Sometimes, you might see the soldiers pop their heads out from their
huts and call in an undertone--'no bread, no soldier;' but a single
word from their officer would still their complaint." Baron Steuben's
cook left him at Valley Forge, saying that when there was nothing to
cook, any one might turn the spit.
The commander-in-chief, partaking of the hardships of his brave men,
was accustomed to sit down with his invited officers to a scanty piece
of meat, with some hard bread and a few potatoes. At his house, called
Moore Hall, they drank the prosperity of the nation in humble toddy,
and the luxurious dessert consisted of a dish of hazel nuts.
Even in those scenes, Mrs. Washington, as was her practice in the
winter campaign, had joined her husband, and always at the head of the
table maintained a mild and dignified, yet cheerful manner. She busied
herself all day long, with errands of grace, and when she passed along
the lines, she would hear the fervent cry,--"God bless Lady Washington."
I need not go into details concerning the lack of clothing--the diary
I have quoted is sufficiently suggestive. An officer said, some years
after the war, that many were without shoes, and while acting as
sentinels, had doffed their hats to stand in, to save their feet from
freezing. Deserters to the British army--for even among the loyal
American troops there were some to be found who could not stand up
against cold and hunger and disease and the inducement held out by
the enemy to deserters--would enter Philadelphia shoeless and almost
naked--around their body an old, dirty blanket, fastened by a leather
belt around the waist.
One does not wonder that disease was rampant, that orders had to be
issued from headquarters for the proper treatment of the itch; for
inoculation against smallpox, for the care of those suffering from
dysentery which was widespread in the camp. On January 8, an order was
issued from the commander-in-chief to the effect that men rendered
unfit for duty by the itch be looked after by the surgeon and properly
disposed in huts where they could be annointed for the disease.
Hospital provisions were made for the sick. Huts, 15 by 25 and 9 feet
high, with windows in each end, were built, two for each brigade. They
were placed at or near the center, and not more than 100 yards from the
bridge. But such were the ravages of the disease that long trenches in
the vale below the hill were dug, and filled in with the dead.
To turn to the activities of the camp,--its duties, privileges, and
amusements, and even its crimes. Until somewhat late in the spring,
when Baron Steuben arrived at Valley Forge, there was little system
observed in the drilling of the several brigades. Yet each day's
military duty was religiously attended to, that there might, at least,
be some preparation for defence in case of an attack from the superior
force at Philadelphia. The duties of both rank and file were strictly
laid down by Washington, and any dereliction was punished with military
strictness.
In the commands issued on February 8, the order of the day is plainly
indicated. I give the words from Orderly book:
"Reveille sounded at daybreak--troop at 8--retreat at
sunset--tattoo at 9. Drummers call to beat at the right of first
line and answer through that line. Then through the second and corp
of artillery, beginning at the left. Reserve shall follow the
second line immediately upon this. Three rolls, to begin, and run
through in like manner as the call. Then all the drums of the army
at the heads of their respective corps shall go through the regular
beats, ceasing upon the right which will be a sign for the whole to
cease."
Don't you imagine that you hear the rise and fall of the notes as they
echoed and re-echoed over the frozen hills and thrilled the hearts that
beat beneath the rags in the cold winter morning?
The daily drill on parade, the picket duty, the domestic duties
incumbent upon the men in the absence of the women, the leisure hours,
then taps, and the day's tale was told.
I should like to tell you of the markets established, for two days
each, at three separate points on the outskirts of the camp, where
for prices fixed by a schedule to prevent extortion, the soldiers,
fortunate enough to possess some money might add to their meagre
supplies some comforts in food or clothing. I should like to tell of
the sutlers that followed each brigade, and the strict rules that
governed their dealings with the army,--of the funerals, the simple
ceremonies of which were fixed by orders from headquarters; of the
gaming among the soldiers, which vice Washington so thoroughly abhorred
that he forbade, under strictest penalties, indulgence in even harmless
games of cards and dice. I should like to tell of the thanksgiving days
appointed by congress for some signal victory of the northern army, or
for the blessing of the French alliance, on which days the camp was
exempt from ordinary duty and after divine service the day was given
over to the men. Or I should like to tell of Friday the "Flag day"
when a flag of truce was carried into Philadelphia and letters were
sent to loved ones, and answers brought back containing disheartening
news of the gaieties then going on, or encouraging accounts of the
sacrifices of mothers and daughters in the cause of liberty. And
finally I should like to tell you of the court martials, through the
reports of which we get such a vivid picture of the intimate life
of the time: of the trial by court martial of Anthony Wayne, who was
acquitted of the charge of conduct unbecoming an officer; of the trial
of a common soldier for stealing a blanket from a fellow soldier, and
the punishment by 100 lashes on his bare back; of the trial of a Mary
Johnson who plotted to desert the camp and who, between the lined up
ranks of the brigade, was drummed out of camp; of the trial of John
Riley for desertion, and his execution on parade ground, with the full
brigade in attendance; of the dramatic punishment of an officer found
guilty of robbery and absenting himself, with a private, without leave,
and who was sentenced to have his sword broken over his head on grand
parade at guard mount. I should like to tell, too, of the foraging
parties sent out to scour the country for food and straw; and the
frequent skirmishes with detachments of the enemy; of the depredations
made by the soldiers on the surrounding farmers, which depredations
were so deplored by Washington and which tried so his great soul I
wanted to speak of the greatness of the Commander-in-Chief in the face
of all he had to contend with--the continued depredations of his men;
the repeated abuse of privilege; the frequent disobedience of orders;
the unavoidably filthy condition of the camp; the suffering of the
soldiers; the peril from a powerful enemy,--all sufficient to make
a soul of less generous mould succumb to fate, yet serving only in
Washington's case to make him put firmer trust in an Almighty Power and
in the justice of his cause.
At the opening of the spring a greater activity prevailed in the camp.
With the coming of Baron Steuben, the army was uniformly drilled in the
tactics of European warfare. With the new appropriation of congress,
new uniforms were possible and gave a more military appearance to the
army. It was no longer necessary, therefore, for Washington to issue
orders that the men must appear on parade with beards shaven and faces
clean, though their garments were of great variety and ragged. And
with the coming of the spring, and of greater comforts in consequence,
Washington, in recognition of the suffering, fidelity and patriotism of
his troops took occasion to commend them in these words:
"The Commander-in-Chief takes this occasion to return his thanks
to the officers and soldiers of this army for that persevering
fidelity and zeal which they have uniformly manifested in all
their conduct. Their fortitude not only under the common hardships
incident to a military life, but also, under the additional
suffering to which the peculiar situation of these states has
exposed them, clearly proves them to be men worthy the enviable
privilege of contending for the rights of human nature--the
freedom and independence of the country. The recent instance of
uncomplaining patience during the late scarcity of provisions in
camp is a fresh proof that they possess in eminent degree the
spirits of soldiers and the magnanimity of patriots. The few who
disgraced themselves by murmuring, it is hoped, have repented such
unmanly behaviour and have resolved to emulate the noble example
of their associates--Soldiers, American Soldiers, will despise
the meanness of repining at such trifling strokes of adversity,
trifling indeed when compared with the transcendent prize which
will undoubtedly crown their patience and perseverance.
"Glory and freedom, peace and plenty, the admiration of
the world, the love of their country and the gratitude of
posterity."--_American Monthly Magazine._
OLD WILLIAMSBURG.
BY EMILY HENDREE PARK.
The screeching of the steam whistle at the Williamsburg station seemed
a curious anachronism, a noisy, pushing impertinence, a strident voice
of latter-day vulgar haste. But when the big engine had rolled away,
puffing and blowing and screaming as if in mischievous and irreverent
effort to disturb the archaic dreams of the fast-asleep town, the
"exceeding peace" which always dwells in Williamsburg, fell upon our
hilarious spirits. We wandered about the streets with hushed voices and
reverent eyes. The throbbing pulse of the gay, stirring, rebellious
heart of the old capital of Virginia had been still for a century.