_Progress of the War._
Letter to his Wife--Affairs at Boston--Proclamation of Gage--The
Battle of Bunker Hill--Results of the Battle--The Loss
on each side--The journey of Washington--Scenes in New
York--Washington’s Arrival at Cambridge--His Appearance--He
takes the Command--The two Forces--Condition of the
Americans--Washington’s Officers--Character of Joseph
Reed--Correspondence with Gates--Project for the Invasion of
Canada--The Indian Alliance.
Washington wrote in terms of great tenderness to his afflicted wife,
whom he had no time to visit. We find the following expressions in his
letter:
“MY DEAREST: I am now set down to write to you on a subject which fills
me with inexpressible concern. And this concern is greatly aggravated
and increased when I reflect upon the uneasiness I know it will give
you.
“You may believe me, my dear Patty, when I assure you, in the most
solemn manner, that, so far from seeking this appointment, I have used
every endeavor in my power to avoid it; not only from my unwillingness
to part with you and the family, but from a consciousness of its being
a trust too great for my capacity. I should enjoy more real happiness
in one month with you at home, than I have the most distant prospect of
finding abroad, if my stay were to be seven times seven years.
“I shall rely confidently in that Providence which has heretofore
preserved and been bountiful to me. I shall feel no pain from the toil
or danger of the campaign. My unhappiness will flow from the uneasiness
I know you will feel from being left alone. I therefore beg that you
will summon your whole fortitude, and pass your time as agreeably as
possible. Nothing will give me so much sincere satisfaction as to hear
this, and to hear it from your pen.”
Washington received his commission on the 20th of June. The next day he
left Philadelphia for the army. He was then forty-three years of age,
and in perfect health. His commanding stature, thoughtful countenance,
and dignified demeanor arrested the attention and won the admiration of
every beholder. He sat his horse with ease and grace rarely equalled
and never surpassed.
Not quite four weeks before, several ships-of-war and transports, with
large reinforcements, had entered Boston Harbor, from England. They
brought also the distinguished generals, Burgoyne, Howe, and Clinton.
There were, at that time, five thousand British regulars in the city.
Ten thousand Americans held them in close siege. As Burgoyne stood upon
the deck of his ship, and had the American’s camp pointed out to him,
he exclaimed, with surprise and scorn:
“What! ten thousand American peasants keep five thousand British shut
up! Well, let us get in, and we will soon find elbow room.”
Encouraged by these reinforcements, Gage issued a proclamation putting
the province under martial law, threatening to punish, with death, as
rebels and traitors, all who should continue under arms, but offering
pardon to all who would return to their allegiance, excepting John
Hancock and Samuel Adams. It was declared that their offences were “too
flagitious, not to meet with condign punishment.”
The threat exasperated the Americans, and the army was soon increased
to about fifteen thousand. It was a motley assemblage of unorganized
men under no one leader. There were four distinct and independent
bodies. The Massachusetts troops were under General Artemas Ward;
General John Stark led the New Hampshire men. The Rhode Islanders
were under the command of General Nathaniel Greene. The impetuous and
reckless Putnam was at the head of the Connecticut soldiers.
Intelligence, in those days, travelled slowly. On the 17th of June,
1775, the world-renowned battle of Bunker Hill was fought. But no rumor
of the conflict had reached Philadelphia when Washington left for
Cambridge, three days later. Washington was accompanied by Generals
Lee and Schuyler, and a brilliant escort of Philadelphia troops. They
had advanced but about twenty miles from the city, when they caught
sight, in the distance, of a courier advancing, spurring his horse
to his utmost speed. He brought despatches of the battle. Washington
inquired, with almost breathless anxiety, into all the particulars.
When told that the Americans stood their ground bravely, reserved their
fire till they could take deliberate aim, and did not retreat until all
their ammunition was expended, he exclaimed, with deep emotion, “The
liberties of our country are safe.”
We need not here enter into the details of this battle, as it was
one in which Washington took no part. A general description of the
wonderful event is however needful, that the reader may comprehend the
transactions which soon ensued, resulting from it.
The American troops were kept together only by a general feeling of
indignation against their oppressors. None of them were acquainted
with the discipline of European armies. Most of them were without
any uniform, or any soldierly accoutrements. The farmers and their
boys had left the plough in the furrow, caught up the musket or the
fowling-piece with the powder-horn, and, in their coarse, homespun
clothes, without food, and with but the slightest supply of ammunition,
had rushed to the field, to combat the veteran soldiers of Great
Britain, under leaders who had already obtained renown in many a
hard-fought battle.
There was a ridge of quite commanding heights, in the rear of the
village of Charlestown, which overlooked the town and the shipping.
Two of the most prominent of these eminences were called Bunker’s Hill
and Breed’s Hill. A council of war decided to seize and occupy those
heights. It was necessary that the enterprise should be undertaken with
the utmost secrecy and caution; for the British men-of-war could open
upon the works a deadly cannonade.
It was Friday night, the 16th of June. Just before sunset, about twelve
hundred American soldiers, were assembled on Charlestown Common.
None but the officers were aware of the expedition which was to be
undertaken. President Langdon, of Harvard College, offered prayers.
In the fading twilight they commenced their silent march. Though five
of the British ships-of-war were anchored, so as to bear, with their
broadsides, upon the peninsula. The troops, in the darkness, and with
careful tread, crossed the isthmus unseen.
Bunker Hill and Breed’s Hill were so nearly connected as to be almost
one. The lines, for the fortifications were marked out on Breed’s
Hill, and the American farmers, accustomed to the spade, went to work
with a will. It was a warm summer night, and the serene, cloudless sky
was brilliantly illumined with stars. From the shores of Boston the
sentinel’s cry of “All’s well,” floated over the silent waters.
As the day dawned, some sailors, on board one of the ships, espied the
rising ramparts. The alarm was given. The ships promptly commenced
their fire. Such thunders of war had never before been heard in that
peaceful bay. All Boston was roused by the terrific cannonade. But
the intrenchments were already so far advanced, as to afford the men
protection from the iron storm with which they were assailed.
Gage called a council of war. From these heights, the Americans, should
they hold them, could bombard Boston and the shipping. It was deemed
necessary to dislodge them, at whatever cost. Twenty-eight large
barges were crowded with the best of British troops, in their best
equipments. Major-General Howe led them. It was not yet noon-day. The
spectacle was sublime, as these veteran soldiers, in their scarlet
uniforms, and with the brilliant sun of a June morning reflected from
polished muskets and bayonets and brass field-pieces, were rowed across
the placid waters in parallel lines.
They landed at Moulton’s Point, a little north of Breed’s Hill.
Immediately every British ship in the harbor, and every battery which
could bring its guns to bear upon the American works, opened fire. Not
a cannon, not a musket, was discharged in return. Silence, as of the
tomb, reigned behind the American intrenchments. The British soldiers,
in military array, which they deemed irresistible, and which was truly
appalling, commenced the ascent of the hill. The Americans, crouched
behind their earthworks, took deliberate aim, and impatiently awaited
the order to fire.
When the British were within thirty paces of the Americans there was a
simultaneous discharge. The slaughter was awful. Every bullet hit its
mark. Still the British troops, with disciplined valor characteristic
of the nation, continued to advance notwithstanding an incessant stream
of fire, which mowed down whole ranks. But soon the carnage became too
deadly to be endured. The whole body broke and rushed precipitately
down the hill in utter confusion. Thousand of spectators in Boston
crowded the roofs, the heights, the steeples, watching this sublime
spectacle with varying emotions. The British soldiers were astonished,
and could hardly believe the testimony of their eye-sight, when they
beheld the British regulars retreating in confusion before the American
militia. But who can describe or imagine the emotions which agitated
the bosoms of American wives and daughters, as they gazed upon the
surges of the dreadful conflict, where their fathers, husbands, sons,
and brothers were struggling in the midst of the awful carnage.
At the bottom of the hill, the troops were again marshalled in line,
and, with reinforcements, commenced another ascent of the hill to
storm the works. When within pistol-shot another series of volleys,
flash following flash, was opened upon them. The ground was instantly
covered with the dying and the dead. Again the bleeding, panic-stricken
regulars, assailed by such a storm of bullets as they never had
encountered before, recoiled and fled. Charlestown was now in flames,
and a spectacle of horror was presented, such as even the veterans in
European warfare were appalled to contemplate.
The case was becoming desperate. The British general, Burgoyne, was
watching the scene, from one of the batteries in Boston, with mingled
emotions of astonishment and anxiety. He wrote to a friend in London:
“Sure I am, nothing ever has or ever can be more dreadfully terrible
than what was to be seen or heard at this time. The most incessant
discharge of guns that ever was heard by mortal ears; straight before,
a large and noble town all in one great blaze, and the church steeples,
being timber, were great pyramids of fire; the roar of cannon, mortars,
and muskets to fill the ear, the storm of the redoubts to fill the
eye; and the reflection that perhaps a defeat was a final loss of the
British Empire in America, to fill the mind, made the whole a picture
and a complication of horror and importance, beyond anything that ever
came to my lot to witness.”[85]
Howe ordered a third attack. Many of the British officers remonstrated,
saying that it would be downright butchery. General Clinton, who had
been watching the action from Copp’s Hill, hurriedly crowded some boats
with reinforcements, and crossed the water to aid in a renewal of the
battle. Accidentally it was discovered that the ammunition of the
Americans was nearly expended. The neck of the peninsula was so swept
by the cannonade from the ships, that no fresh supply of powder could
be sent to them. Preparations were accordingly made by the British to
carry the works by the bayonet.
The soldiers were exceedingly reluctant again to ascend the hill, in
the face of the deadly fire which they knew awaited them. They were
goaded on by the swords of the officers. Again the Americans reserved
their fire till the assailants were within a few feet of the ramparts.
A numerous volley of leaden hail fell upon them. Officers and men were
alike struck down by wounds and death. General Howe was struck by a
bullet on the foot.
But alas! the Americans had fired their last round. Their ammunition
was exhausted. The British veterans, with fixed bayonets, rushed over
the earthworks. A desperate fight now took place, hand to hand. Stones
were hurled. Muskets were clubbed. Men clenched each other in the
frenzied, deadly strife. The Americans, greatly outnumbered by their
assailants, who had ammunition in abundance, were now compelled to
retire. They cut their way through two divisions of the British, who
were in their rear to intercept their retreat. As they were slowly
retiring, disputing the ground inch by inch, they were assailed by a
constant fire from the British. It was here that the patriot Warren
fell. A musket ball passed through his head, and he dropped dead upon
the spot. The retreating Americans crossed the neck, still exposed to
a raging fire from ships and batteries. The bleeding, exhausted foe,
did not venture to pursue. The victors took possession of Bunker Hill,
promptly threw up additional intrenchments, and hurried across, from
Boston, that they might firmly hold the works.
The British admitted, in their returns of the battle, that out of a
detachment of two thousand men they lost, in killed and wounded, one
thousand and fifty four. This amounts to the astonishing proportion of
more than one-half of the number engaged. The loss of the Americans
did not exceed four hundred and fifty. Coolly the historian writes
these numbers. Calmly the reader peruses them. But who can imagine the
anguish which penetrated these American homes and those distant homes
in England, where widows and orphans wept in grief which could not be
allayed![86]
The Americans were defeated. But it was a defeat which exercised, over
the public mind, the effect of a victory. The British were victors.
But Britain admitted, that a few more such victories would bring the
British empire in America to a close.
The news of the battle of Bunker Hill swept the land like a whirlwind.
Washington was greatly encouraged, as he learned of the heroism with
which the Americans had conducted the conflict. As he rapidly advanced,
on his journey, escorted by his brilliant cavalcade, the inhabitants
of all the towns and villages, on his way, crowded the streets to gaze
upon him.
The Americans were exposed to great embarrassments. The governors of
nearly all the provinces were Englishmen, and bitterly hostile to the
American cause. They had great political power, and also much social
influence over the most opulent and aristocratic portions of the
community. In all the cities there were large numbers, of the higher
classes, whose sympathies were earnestly with the crown of England.
Many of these would shrink from no crime to thwart the plans of the
Americans. It was therefore needful that Washington should travel with
a strong guard.
Governor Tryon, of New York, was intense in his hostility to the
“rebels,” as he called all the Americans who were opposed to the
despotism of Great Britain. He was then in England, but would
soon return, with ships and armies, to hold New York bay, and the
Hudson, in subserviency to the British. He might thus cut off all
intercourse between the eastern and southern provinces. Anxiously
General Washington discussed this matter, as he rode along, with his
companions, Generals Lee and Schuyler.[87]
Washington decided to intrust the command of New York to General
Schuyler. At Newark, New Jersey, a delegation met Washington to conduct
him to the city of New York. They informed him that a ship had just
arrived from England and that Governor Tryon, who was on board, was
every hour expected to land. How would these antagonistic forces meet,
at the same port--the British colonial governor, and the American
military commander!
Washington reached the city first. The idea of American Independence
of the British crown had not yet been uttered, if even it had occurred
to any one. It was evident that the authority of Congress and the
authority of the British Crown would soon meet in conflict. What the
result would be, no one could tell. Peter Van Burgh Livingston,
president of the New York Assembly, addressing Washington in a very
cautious speech of congratulation, said:
“Confiding in you, sir, and the worthy generals immediately under your
command, we have the most flattering hopes of success, in the glorious
struggle for American liberty. And we have the fullest assurance that,
whenever this important contest shall be decided, by that fondest wish
of each American soul, _an accommodation with our mother country_, you
will cheerfully resign the important deposit committed into your hands,
and reassume the character of our worthiest citizen.”
Washington, in entire harmony with these views, replied, “As to the
fatal but necessary operations of war, when we assumed the soldier we
did not lay aside the citizen. And we shall most sincerely rejoice,
with you, in that happy hour, when the establishment of American
liberty, on the most firm and solid foundation, shall enable us to
return to our private stations, in the bosom of a free, peaceful, and
happy country.”
Washington reached the city of New York about noon. Governor Tryon
landed about eight o’clock in the evening. He was received with
military honors, and by great demonstrations of loyalty by those
devoted to the crown. The Mayor and Common Council received him
respectfully. Any demonstrations of hostility would have been insane. A
large British ship-of-war, Aria, then was at anchor opposite the city,
ready, at any signal, with its terrible batteries, to open fire, which
would inevitably lay every building in ashes. It was also rumored that
a large British force was on the passage from England.
Washington pressed rapidly on toward the army in Cambridge. As he left
General Schuyler behind, narrowly to watch the progress of affairs, he
said to him:
“If forcible measures are judged necessary respecting the Governor,
I should have no difficulty in ordering them, if the Continental
Congress were not sitting. But as that is the case, and the _seizing
of a governor_ quite a new thing. I must refer you to that body for
direction.”
Washington left New York on the 26th. General Lee accompanied him. He
was escorted as far as Kingsbridge by several companies of militia, and
a squadron of Philadelphia light horse. The Massachusetts Assembly was
in session at Watertown. They were making vigorous preparations for the
reception of the Commander-in-Chief. The residence of the president
of the Provincial Congress, at Cambridge, was fitted up for his
head-quarters.[88] As Washington pressed on his way, he was escorted
from town to town by volunteer companies and cavalcades of gentlemen.
On the 2d of July he reached Watertown, where he was greeted with
the warmest congratulations, while, at the same time, he was told
that he had come to take command of fragmentary bands of soldiers,
poorly equipped, entirely unorganized, and quite ignorant of military
discipline. It was three miles to the central camp in Cambridge.
Washington rode over, escorted by a troop of light horse and a
cavalcade of citizens. His fame had preceded him. Officers, soldiers,
and citizens were alike eager to see the man, in whose hands the
destinies of our country seemed to be placed. No one was disappointed.
Mrs. John Adams, one of the noblest of the patriotic women of America,
witnessed the scene. She wrote to her husband, who had nominated him
for this important post:
“Dignity, ease, and complacency, the gentleman and the soldier, look
agreeably blended in him. Modesty marks every line and feature of his
face. These lines of Dryden instantly occurred to me.
“‘Mark his majestic fabric! He’s a temple
Sacred by birth, and built by hands divine;
His soul’s the deity that lodges there;
Nor is the pile unworthy of the God.’”
Washington was fully awake to the fearful responsibilities now
devolving upon him. General Gage held his head-quarters in Boston,
sustained by a squadron of light horse and several companies of
infantry and artillery. The bulk of his army had taken its stand on
Bunker’s Hill, where the troops were busy in strengthening their works,
so as to render the position impregnable. Another strong party was on
the neck of land between Boston and Roxbury. A deep intrenchment ran
across the neck, which was bristling with cannon, and with the bayonets
of the regular troops who guarded all the approaches. A fleet of
British war ships was in the harbor.
The American lines extended entirely around Boston and Charleston,
from Mystic river to Dorchester. The distance was about twelve miles.
Plain farmers, many of them in their working attire, had seized
their muskets, and, in the month of June so important to all their
agricultural interests, had abandoned their fields to engage in the
revolting employments of war. They were gathering from Massachusetts,
Connecticut, Rhode Island, and New Hampshire. From the far-away banks
of the Potomac George Washington had come, to place himself at the head
of the sons of New England, struggling in the defence of the dearest of
all earthly rights.
On the morning of the 3d of July Washington took formal command of
the army. It was a solemn hour. There was no boasting; no exultation.
The troops were drawn up, upon Cambridge Common. An immense crowd of
spectators had assembled from the country all around. Washington, as
he rode upon the ground, was accompanied by General Lee and a numerous
suite. He took his stand under the shade of a venerable elm, probably
one of the primeval forest when he reviewed those heroic men, who had
no love for war, whose hearts were yearning for their peaceful homes,
but who were ready to sacrifice life itself rather than surrender their
infant country to the despotism of its ruthless oppressor.
The British army in Boston amounted to eleven thousand five hundred
men. They were in the highest state of discipline, under able and
experienced generals, and abundantly supplied with all the best arms,
ammunition, and material of war which Europe could afford. Washington
had under his command, fit for duty, only fourteen thousand five
hundred men, with no general organization, no supply of stores or
clothing, no military chest, and but wretchedly supplied with arms and
ammunition.[89] It is one of the marvels of history that this motley
assembly of farmers and mechanics was not swept away, before the
British regulars, like withered leaves before autumnal gales.
Washington convened a council of war. It was promptly decided, without
a dissenting voice, that at the least twenty-two thousand men were
needed, to hold the posts which the Americans then occupied. And those
posts must be held, or British marauders would range the country,
plundering villages and farm-houses.
Washington was appalled to find that there was not powder enough in the
whole camp to supply nine cartridges to a man. Had the British known
this, they might have marched from their intrenchments in Roxbury and
Charlestown, and have utterly annihilated the American army, leaving
not a vestige behind.
Washington rode to various eminences, from which he carefully
reconnoitred the British posts. His military eye revealed to him
the skill with which everything was conducted by his powerful foe.
Of the troops under Washington’s command, nine thousand were from
Massachusetts. The remainder were from the other New England colonies.
The encampment of the Rhode Island troops attracted the eye of
Washington and won his admiration. General Nathaniel Greene led them.
His soldiers were admirably drilled. Order and discipline prevailed,
under his rule, unsurpassed in any of the British camps.[90]
The troops, in general, were destitute of suitable clothing. And
there was no money in the military chest. A British soldier could be
instantly recognized, by his brilliant scarlet costume. Washington
showed his knowledge of human nature, by judging that any uniform,
however simple in its nature, which at once revealed the American
patriot, would prove a strong bond of union with the troops. He wrote
to Congress, urging that ten thousand hunting shirts should be
immediately sent to the army, as the cheapest dress which could be
promptly furnished.
It is a little remarkable that the Massachusetts troops were the most
destitute of all. The fact, as expressed by Washington, proved highly
honorable to that heroic State. He wrote:
“This unhappy and devoted province has been so long in a state of
anarchy, and the yoke has been laid so heavily on it, that great
allowances are to be made, for troops raised under such circumstances.
The deficiency of numbers, discipline, and stores can only lead to this
conclusion, that _their spirit has exceeded their strength_.”
The religious spirit which animated many of these patriots may be
inferred from the following extract from a letter, written to General
Washington at this time, by Governor Trumbull of Connecticut. “May
the God of the armies of Israel shower down the blessings of divine
providence on you; give you wisdom and fortitude; cover your head in
the day of battle and danger; add success; convince our enemies of
their mistaken measures, and that all their attempts to deprive these
colonies of their inestimable constitutional rights and liberties are
injurious and vain.”
It was necessary for Washington, as Commander-in-Chief, to maintain
considerable state. Every day some of his officers dined with him.
Though naturally very social, his mind was so entirely engrossed by the
vast responsibilities which rested upon him, that he had no time to
devote to those social indulgences of the table of which many are so
fond. He was extremely simple in his diet. Often his dinner consisted
of a bowl of baked apples and milk. Having finished his frugal repast,
he early excused himself from the table, leaving some one of his
officers to preside in his stead.
His first aide-de-camp was Colonel Mifflin, a very accomplished
gentleman from Philadelphia. His second was John Trumbull, who
afterward obtained much renown as an historical painter. His noble
father, Jonathan Trumbull, Governor of Connecticut, was one of
Washington’s most efficient coöperators. He was the only one of the
colonial governors, appointed by the crown, who, at the commencement of
the revolution, proved true to the cause of the Americans.[91] Colonel
John Trumbull, in allusion to his appointment, wrote:
“I now suddenly found myself in the family of one of the most
distinguished and dignified men of the age; surrounded, at his table,
by the principal officers of the army, and in constant intercourse
with them. It was further my duty to receive company, and to do the
honors of the house to many of the first people of the country, of both
sexes.”
Mr. Joseph Reed, of Philadelphia, accepted the post of secretary to
the Commander-in-Chief. He was a lawyer of high repute, having studied
in America, and at the Temple, in London. His practice was extensive
and lucrative; and his rank, culture, and refined manners rendered him
a favorite in the highest circles in Philadelphia, where he was in
intimate association with the families of British officers and other
strong adherents of the crown.
Many of his friends considered it the height of infatuation that he,
at thirty-five years of age, should abandon his young wife, his happy
home, and his profession, in which he was rapidly accumulating wealth,
for the hardships and perils of the Revolutionary Camp. To their
remonstrances he replied:
“I have no inclination to be hanged for half-treason. When a subject
draws his sword against his prince, he must cut his way through, if he
means to sit down in safety. I have taken too active a part in what may
be called the civil part of opposition, to renounce, without disgrace,
the public cause, when it seems to lead to danger; and I have the most
sovereign contempt for the man who can plan measures he has not the
spirit to execute.”
Washington, in the terrible hours which he was to encounter, needed
a bosom friend, who could be in true sympathy with him, and to whom
he could confide all his solicitudes. Such a friend, intelligent,
courageous, warm-hearted, polished in manners, of pure life and pure
lips, he found in Joseph Reed. Lee, Putnam, and Gates[92] were very
efficient army officers, but they were not congenial heart-companions
for Washington. The fearless, energetic Connecticut general was very
popular with the soldiers. He was invariably called “Old Put.” That
nick-name alone sufficiently reveals his character. Washington highly
prized his services. Whatever works he undertook were pushed forward
with wonderful energy. Washington one day said to him:
“You seem, General, to have the faculty of infusing your own spirit
into all the workmen you employ.”
The arrival of Washington infused astonishing energy into the army.
His engineering skill enabled him to select the most important
strategic points of defence. Every man was at work, from morning till
night. All Cambridge and Charlestown were covered with camps, forts,
and intrenchments. The line of circumvallation was so extended, that it
soon became quite impossible for the British to cut their way through.
There were three grand divisions of the army. The right wing was
stationed on the heights of Roxbury. The left wing was on Winter and
Prospect Hill. The centre was at Cambridge. Fleet horses were kept at
several points, ready saddled, to convey instant intelligence of any
movement of the British. Washington was every day traversing these
lines, and superintending all the works.
Each regiment was summoned every morning, to attend prayers. A day was
appointed, by Congress, of fasting and prayer, to obtain the favor of
Heaven. Washington enforced the strict observance of the day. All labor
was suspended. Officers and soldiers were required to attend divine
service. But they were all armed and equipped, ready for immediate
action.[93]
Great commotion was excited, in the camp, one morning, when fourteen
hundred sharpshooters came marching upon the ground, from Pennsylvania,
Maryland, and Virginia. They were all tall men, and made a very
imposing appearance, in their picturesque costume, of fringed hunting
shirts and round hats. It was said that, while on the rapid march,
these men could hit a mark seven inches in diameter, at the distance of
two hundred and sixty yards.[94]
The British were in entire command of the sea. They were continually
landing, from their ships, at unprotected points, and inflicting a vast
amount of injury. It was impossible to prevent this. The ocean was, to
these foes, what the forest had been to the savage. One or two ships
would suddenly appear, send an armed party on shore in their boats,
plunder, burn, and kill at their pleasure, and long before any military
force could be assembled to resist them, their marauding fleet would
have disappeared beyond the horizon of the sea.
Washington had soon cut off all possible communication between the
British, in Boston, and the back country. He ordered all the live
stock, on the coast, to be driven into the interior, beyond the reach
of plundering parties from the men-of-war’s boats. Famine began to
prevail in Boston. But the position of the American army was still
perilous in the highest degree. They were, notwithstanding Washington’s
most intense endeavor, almost without ammunition. The supply was
reduced, as we have said, to nine cartridges to a man. And thus for a
fortnight they boldly faced the well-supplied armies of Great Britain.
At length a partial supply from New Jersey put an end to this fearful
risk.
General Gage was treating his American prisoner as outlaws, throwing
them indiscriminately into common jails, and treating them with the
utmost barbarity. Washington was personally acquainted with Gage.
He had led the advance-guard in Braddock’s defeat. Washington wrote
to him, in respectful but earnest terms, remonstrating against this
inhumanity, and stating that, if it were continued, he should be under
the very painful necessity of retaliating.
Gates returned a defiant and insolent reply, in which he spoke of the
American patriots as rebels who, by the laws of England, were “destined
to the cord, and that he acknowledged no rank which was not derived
from the king.”[95]
Washington restrained his indignation, and again wrote to his
unmannerly foe, in the courteous language of a gentleman. In this
admirable letter he said:
“I addressed you, sir, on the 11th instant, in terms which gave the
fairest scope for that humanity and politeness which were supposed to
form a part of your character.
“Not only your officers and soldiers have been treated with the
tenderness due to fellow-citizens, but even those execrable parricides,
whose counsels and aid have deluged their country with blood, have been
protected from the fury of a justly enraged people.
“You affect, sir, to despise all rank not derived from the same source
with your own. I cannot conceive one more honorable than that which
flows from the uncorrupted choice of a brave and free people, the
purest source and original fountain of all power.
“I shall now, sir, close my correspondence with you, perhaps forever.
If your officers, our prisoners, receive a treatment from me different
from that I wish to show them, they and you will remember the occasion
of it.”[96]
In conformity with these views Washington issued orders that the
British officers who were at large on parole, should be confined in
Northampton jail. But his humane heart recoiled from punishing the
innocent for the crimes of the guilty. The order was revoked, and they
remained at large, as before.[97]
Ethan Allen and Benedict Arnold urged very strenuously upon Congress
the importance of an expedition for the conquest of Canada. There were
about seven hundred British regulars occupying different posts in
that province. The Indians generally loved the French. But they hated
the English, who had always treated them with contempt, which they
keenly felt. Many of these chiefs were now eager to join the Americans
against the English, though the rich government of Great Britain could
offer them far higher bribes. A delegation of the highest chiefs, from
several of the important tribes on the St. Lawrence, visited Washington
at Cambridge. They were received with those tokens of respect which
their rank, character, and mission demanded.
Washington invited them all to dine with him and his leading officers.
It was remarked that in dignity of demeanor and propriety of deportment
they conducted themselves like men who from infancy had been accustomed
to the usages of good society. A council was held. The chiefs offered,
in behalf of their several tribes, to coöperate in any movement for the
invasion of Canada.
It was an embarrassing offer. Congress had voted not to enter into any
alliance with the Indians unless the British should call the savages
to their aid. But the chief of the St. Francis Indians declared that
Colonel Guy Carleton, who commanded the British forces in Canada,
had offered them large rewards if they would take up arms against
the Americans. An express was sent to General Schuyler at Albany, to
ascertain whether the British were endeavoring to enlist the Indians
on their side. It so happened that General Schuyler was then attending
a conference of the chiefs of the Six Nations. He declared that there
was no question whatever that General Carleton and his agents were
attempting to rouse the Indian tribes.
It was decided that while General Schuyler should conduct troops, by
the way of Ticonderoga upon Montreal, General Arnold should lead an
expedition, of about twelve hundred men, up the valley of the Kennebec,
in Maine, to make an assault upon Quebec.