_The Loss of Philadelphia, and the Capture of Burgoyne._
Philadelphia occupied by the English--Condition of Burgoyne--Nature
of the Conflict--Treachery of the Indians--Burgoyne’s Efforts
to Escape--Cruel Devastation--The Surrender--Its Results--Plans
of Washington--His Military Capacity--Battle of Germantown--The
Panic--Washington’s Account of the Battle--Results of the
Battle--Destruction of Fort Mifflin--Atrocities of the
British--Encampment at Valley Forge.
Washington took advantage of the dilatoriness of Howe to prepare to
attack him again. The two armies were often face to face. Washington,
with his feeble force, could only harass the foe and retard his
march. At length, Howe encamped, with the main body of his army,
at Germantown, but a short distance from Philadelphia, and sent
Cornwallis, with a brilliant staff, and a very magnificent array of
troops, to take formal possession of the city. Washington was by no
means in despair. He wrote to Governor Trumbull:
“This is an event which we have reason to wish had not happened, and
which will be attended with several ill consequences. But I hope it
will not be so detrimental as many apprehend; and that a little time
and perseverance will give us some favorable opportunity of recovering
our loss, and of putting our affairs in a more flourishing condition.”
In the meantime, prosperity was smiling upon the American cause. A
noble spirit of patriotism imbued the hearts of the people. Burgoyne
complained bitterly that the farmers were all rebels; that at an hour’s
warning they would abandon their plows by thousands, take their own
subsistence with them, and, having achieved any enterprise for which
they were called forth, would return to their farms. Several fierce
battles were fought, in none of which did Burgoyne gain any advantage,
and in all of which his plans were thwarted.
The Americans were rapidly encircling his army in folds from which
escape would be difficult, if not impossible. Famine began to threaten
him. He tried to retreat, but the Americans hedged up his way, and
fought with bravery which the British regulars had never seen excelled.
Washington sent a band of Morgan’s riflemen to their aid. The scene
of conflict was over hills and dales, covered with a dense forest. In
this warfare Morgan’s men were far superior to the trained soldiers of
England and Germany. Their well-aimed bullets produced fearful havoc.
The shrewd Indians saw that the tides of war were turning against
them. They never loved the English. Without any leave-taking, they
disappeared, carrying with them all the plunder they could seize. The
Canadians deserted by hundreds.[160]
Burgoyne struggled with the energies of desperation. But all his
efforts to escape were in vain. The impetuosity with which the
Americans rushed upon the cannon of the foe, in the face of murderous
discharges of grape-shot, excited the astonishment of both the British
and Hessian officers. Many heroic and pathetic scenes occurred which we
have not space here to record. After a bloody battle and a disastrous
defeat, Burgoyne made another attempt to escape from his terrible foe.
The night was dark even to blackness. The rain fell in torrents. The
gale, chill and piercing, penetrated the clothing of the shivering
soldiers, and moaned its saddest requiems through the gloom of the
forest.
On the 9th, they reached Saratoga. A detachment of Americans had
preceded them, and were throwing up intrenchments. Burgoyne set fire to
farm-houses, mansions, granaries, mills. He himself estimated the value
of the property destroyed at fifty thousand dollars. He excused himself
for the act on the plea of self-preservation. But generally, friend and
foe alike condemned the cruel deed.
The sufferings of the British soldiers were awful. Drenched with rain,
numb with cold, and exhausted by their toilsome march, they had no
strength to cut wood for camp-fires. They sought such repose as could
be found on the wet ground. Burgoyne could retreat no farther. He was
surrounded. There was no escape. A deadly cannonade was opened upon his
despairing troops. Scenes of horror ensued which could hardly have been
surpassed in the realms of Pandemonium. One of the British generals
exclaimed:
“I would not for ten thousand guineas see this place again. I am
heart-broken with what I have seen.”
Burgoyne was in despair. A council of war was held. They had food,
upon short allowance, but for three days. The cannonade continued.
Shot were striking all around. While they were deliberating, an
eighteen-pound ball passed through the tent, and swept the table at
which they were convened. All concurred that surrender was inevitable.
The articles were signed on the night of the 16th of October, 1777.
Burgoyne’s army was reduced from nine thousand men to five thousand
seven hundred and fifty-two. The Americans, under General Gates,
numbered ten thousand five hundred and fifty-four men on duty. The
trophies of this great victory, left in the hands of the Americans,
were a fine train of artillery, seven thousand stand of arms, and a
large supply of clothing, tents, and military stores.
The British troops were marched to a particular spot, where they
grounded their arms. They were allowed a free passage to Europe, being
pledged not to serve again during the war. Gates and Burgoyne met at
the head of their respective staffs. The British general was in rich,
royal uniform. Gates appeared in a plain blue frock.
“The fortune of war,” said Burgoyne, “has made me your prisoner.”
Gates replied: “I shall always be ready to testify that it has not been
through any fault of your Excellency.”
Burgoyne and all his officers bore unequivocal and constant testimony
to the extraordinary humanity and politeness with which all the
captives were treated.[161]
Washington was at this time not far from Germantown, with a force,
including militia, of about eleven thousand men. The British fleet
could not ascend the Delaware to Philadelphia, in consequence of
obstructions which had been placed in the river. Washington wrote to
Congress:
“If these can be maintained, General Howe’s situation will not be the
most agreeable. For if his supplies can be stopped by water, it may
easily be done by land, and I am not without hopes that the acquisition
of Philadelphia may, instead of his good fortune, prove his ruin.”[162]
No one familiar with military affairs can critically examine the record
of these events without the conviction that neither the campaigns
of Napoleon I., nor of Frederic, called the Great, exhibit any more
consummate generalship than the commander-in-chief of the American
armies displayed through these trying scenes. Washington was head and
shoulders above any of his generals. There was no one of them whom the
voice of impartial history pronounces to be, in any respect, his rival.
There was probably not one but he, who could have carried our country
successfully through the terrible ordeal.
A large force of the British was encamped at Germantown, a small
village but a few miles out from Philadelphia. The settlement consisted
of a single street, about two miles long, running north and south. The
houses were generally one story, sometimes of stone, standing apart
from each other, surrounded with yards and gardens.
Washington, as bold as he was cautious, ever watching for an
opportunity to strike a blow, and ever avoiding to strike where he
would receive a heavier blow in return, formed the plan to attack
the foe by surprise. The plan was admirably arranged and heroically
executed. It would have proved a signal success but for one of those
accidents which no human foresight can foresee.
In the gathering darkness of the evening of the 2d of October, he
commenced a march of fifteen miles, over roads so rough that the
morning was beginning to dawn gloomily through clouds and a dense
fog, when he approached the British encampment. The British sentries
gave the alarm. The roll of drums and bugle-peals rap sublimely
along the extended lines of the foe, rousing the sleepers to battle.
Washington hurled his troops upon them, with the impetuosity which ever
characterized his attacks.
Wayne led. The British broke and fled. Hotly they were pursued. The
fugitives, reaching reinforcements, rallied, and for a short time
fought bravely. But again they broke in a panic, and ran, abandoning
their artillery. All were mingled in the flight and the pursuit. The
Americans, exasperated by many cruel deeds of the English, plied the
bayonet ferociously. The slaughter was dreadful. The officers found
it very difficult to restrain their fury towards those who threw down
their arms and cried for quarter. In the terrific excitement of such
scenes, even the most humane men often lose their self-possession, and
conduct with frenzy which is truly maniacal.
The fog was now so dense that objects could with difficulty be
discerned at the distance of one hundred feet. It was dangerous to use
cannon or musketry, for in several cases friends had been mistaken for
enemies. The Americans, in the full tide of victory, were attacking
the British in front and on the flanks. Two or three times they had
unfortunately exchanged shots, friend against friend. The British
had probably done the same. It was a frenzied scene of obscurity,
tumult, and terror. But the British were routed. They fled from their
camping-ground, abandoning tents and baggage.
As the Americans rushed forward, they came suddenly upon a large body
of troops, rapidly approaching, like specters, through the fog upon
their flank. Shots were exchanged. The British had already been driven
a distance of three miles. The troops thus mistaken for the British,
were in reality some regiments of the Jersey and Maryland militia.
The appearance of this apparently strong reinforcement of the foe
checked the pursuit. Alarm was created. The cry arose, “We are being
surrounded, and cut off from retreat.” A panic ensued; and the
victorious troops broke and ran. No appeals can arrest the steps of a
panic-stricken army. The gloom, created by fog and smoke, was almost
like midnight darkness. The fugitives soon came upon another division
of the Americans, pressing forward in the flush of victory.
These troops also mistook the fugitives rushing down upon them for
the foe, and, in their turn, fell into confusion. The British, thus
unexpectedly rescued from destruction, rallied. Lord Cornwallis arrived
from Philadelphia with a squadron of light horse. The rising sun
dispelled the fog.
The victory of the Americans was turned into a defeat. They retired in
good order, taking with them all their wounded and their baggage. For
about five miles a running fight was kept up. The British admitted a
loss of seventy-one killed, and four hundred and twenty-nine wounded
and missing. The Americans lost one hundred and fifty killed, five
hundred and twenty-one wounded, and four hundred taken prisoners.[163]
In reference to this battle General Sullivan wrote: “I saw, with great
concern, our brave commander-in-chief, exposing himself to the hottest
fire of the enemy, in such a manner that regard for my country obliged
me to ride to him and beg him to retire. He, to gratify me and some
others, withdrew to a small distance; but his anxiety for the fate of
the day soon brought him up again, where he remained till our troops
had retreated.”
The battle of Germantown, notwithstanding its unfortunate issue,
exerted a good effect upon the public mind. It convinced the community
that our army was not disheartened, and that it was still in a
condition to take the field.[164] The Count de Vergennes, in Paris,
conferring with the American Commissioners, in reference to a treaty of
alliance, said:
“Nothing has impressed me so deeply, as General Washington’s attacking
and giving battle to General Howe’s army. To bring an army raised
within a year, to do this, promises every thing.”
Washington having received considerable reinforcements, took up a new
position at White Marsh, about fourteen miles from Philadelphia. Here
he threw up such intrenchments as to be able to challenge the British
to attack him. He was also in a condition to cut off their foraging
parties, and to prevent the tories from conveying into the city any
provisions.
There were two American forts, commanding obstructions on the Delaware,
which prevented any vessels from ascending with supplies. These were
called Mifflin and Mercer. Howe concentrated all the energies of fleet
and army for the destruction of Mifflin. The conflict was terrible;
American valor never shone more brightly than in the defense against
fearful odds. Several times the advancing columns of the British were
repulsed with great slaughter. In one attack they lost, in killed and
wounded, four hundred men; while the Americans lost only eight killed,
and twenty-nine wounded.
Three British war vessels attempted to anchor, so as to open fire
upon the fort. The _Augusta_ had sixty-four guns, the _Roebuck_
forty-four--both frigates. The _Merlin_ was a sloop of war, eighteen
guns. There was also a well-armed galley. Many other vessels of the
fleet were co-operating. Together they could throw a storm of iron hail
upon the fort, which it would seem that nothing could resist.
In struggling through the lower line of chevàux-de-frise, the _Augusta_
and _Merlin_ ran aground. A red-hot shot, from the American battery,
set the _Augusta_ on fire. In a terrible panic the crew rushed to the
boats. With a volcanic explosion, whose thunders seemed to shake the
hills, the magazine of the majestic fabric exploded. Several of the
crew had not escaped. No fragments of their mangled bodies were ever
found.
There was no escape for the _Merlin_. The British themselves applied
the torch. The remaining vessels dropped down the river.
This discomfiture led Howe to redouble his efforts for the removal of
those obstructions which imperiled the very existence of his army.
Gigantic efforts were made. Batteries were reared, which threw eighteen
and twenty-four pound shot. A large Indiaman was cut down to a floating
battery, armed with the heaviest guns.
At a concerted signal the fire was opened. It was terrific. Ships,
forts, gondolas, and floating batteries, opened their thunders at
once. This tempest of war raged with deafening roar, such as never
before had been heard on the shores of the New World. Hour after hour,
through the long day, shot and shell fell like hailstones. Guns were
dismounted, palisades shivered, parapets beaten down to the ground, and
the slaughter of the heroic garrison was awful. Nearly every man of a
company of artillery was killed. Most of the officers were wounded.
Night came, with its gloom and horror. Ruins, wounds, blood, death were
everywhere. The moans of the dying floated away sadly on the night air.
Tidings of woe were on the way to many a farm-house. The fort could no
longer be held. Fire was applied to all that was combustible of the
smoldering ruins, and the surviving officers and men retired, by the
light of the flames, taking with them their wounded and such articles
as could be removed. A more heroic resistance history has not recorded.
Under the circumstances, the defeat gave the renown of a victory.[165]
The British now established themselves in Philadelphia, for their
winter quarters. Weary of fighting, and some of them ashamed of the
infamous cause in support of which they were filling a once happy land
with death and woe, they devoted their time to gambling, drinking,
carousing, and all those associate vices which have generally attended
the encampment of an army. The patriotic citizens were subjected to
every indignity. Some were driven from their houses, that the British
might occupy them. Upon some, soldiers were quartered, to be fed and
housed. Some were plundered. When food was scarce, the inhabitants were
left to hunger, that the soldiers might have abundance.
As wintry blasts began to sweep the fields, it was necessary for
Washington to find shelter for his troops. About twenty miles from
Philadelphia there was a glen, densely wooded and well watered, called
Valley Forge. This spot Washington selected for the winter home of
his heroic little band. The forest resounded with the blows of the
ax, as the gigantic trees were felled, and there rapidly arose a
large town, of comfortable log houses, scientifically arranged. The
settlement was designed to accommodate about eleven thousand men. Each
hut was fourteen feet by sixteen, and accommodated twelve soldiers.
The whole encampment was so well protected by earth-works, that the
carousing British did not deem it expedient to leave the firesides of
Philadelphia to make an attack. The streets and avenues were neatly
arranged, and the large military town presented quite a picturesque and
cheerful aspect.
But the suffering here, during the winter of 1777 and 1778, was very
severe. In consequence of inexperience in military affairs, and the
incompetency of the commissariat department, the troops were left in
a state of great destitution. They suffered for food and clothing. At
times they were so destitute of arms and ammunition that they could
present feeble resistance to an enterprising foe.
Washington was in a state of terrible embarrassment. He could not
loudly make his wants known without proclaiming his destitution to the
enemy and inviting attack. He was therefore compelled, while his men
were freezing and starving, to let the impression go abroad, that his
troops were rejoicing in abundance, and were ready, at any moment, to
meet the British on the battle-field. From sickness and suffering the
army dwindled down to five thousand men. On one occasion he wrote:
“A part of the army has been a week without any kind of flesh, and the
rest three or four days. Naked and starving as they are, we can not
enough admire the incomparable patience and fidelity of the soldiers,
that they have not been ere this, excited by their suffering to a
general mutiny and desertion.”
[Illustration: THE CAPITULATION AT YORKTOWN.]