as Cornwallis advanced, until Lee should join him, when some chance of
checking the enemy might be improved. At any rate, such a junction would
undoubtedly have made Cornwallis more circumspect. As Lee still hung
back, Washington saw this slender hope vanishing. He for a moment
listened to the alternative of marching to Morristown, where the troops
from the Northern army would sooner join him; but as this plan would
leave the direct road to Philadelphia open, it neither suited
Washington's temper nor his views, and he therefore adhered to his
former one of fighting in retreat. And though he had failed to check
Cornwallis at Newark he would endeavor to do so at New Brunswick.
For New Brunswick, therefore, the remains of the army marched, just as
the enemy's rear-guard was entering Newark in hot pursuit. On finding
himself so close to the Americans, Cornwallis pushed on after them with
his light troops, but as Washington had broken down the bridge over the
Raritan after passing it, the British were brought to a halt there.
[Sidenote: New Brunswick evacuated.]
Sustained by the vain hope of being reenforced here, either by Lee or by
new levies of militia coming up as he fell back toward Philadelphia,
Washington meditated making a stand at New Brunswick, which should at
least show the exultant enemy that there was still some life left in his
jaded battalions, and perhaps delay pursuit, which was all that could be
hoped for with his small force. Instead, however, of the expected
reenforcement, the departure of the New Jersey and Maryland brigades,
still so called by courtesy alone, since they were but the shadows of
what they had been, put this purpose out of the question. Again
Washington reluctantly turned his back to his enemy.
Lee's troops were now the chief resource. What few militia joined the
army one day melted away on the next. In Washington's opinion the
crisis had come. He therefore wrote to his laggard lieutenant, "Hasten
your march as much as possible or your arrival may be too late."
[Sidenote: December 7.]
Fortunately Cornwallis had orders not to advance beyond New Brunswick.
He therefore halted there until he could receive new instructions, which
caused a delay of six days before the pursuit was renewed.[3] On the 7th
Cornwallis moved on to Princeton, arriving there on the same day that
Washington left it. This was getting dangerously near, with a wide river
to cross, at only one short march beyond.
In view of the actual state of things, this retreat must stand in
history as a masterpiece of calculated temerity. Keeping only one day's
march ahead of his enemy, Washington's rear-guard only moved off when
the enemy's van came in sight. There is nowhere any hint of a disorderly
retreat, or any serious infraction of discipline, or any deviation from
the strict letter of obedience to orders, such as usually follows in the
wake of a beaten and retreating army. Washington simply let himself be
pushed along when he found resistance altogether hopeless. In this firm
hold on his soldiers, at such an hour, we recognize the leader.
Footnotes:
[1] Captain Graydon (_Memoirs_) and Ethan Allen (_Narrative_), both
prisoners at this time, fix the responsibility where it belongs.
[2] Cornwallis (Lord Brome) was squint-eyed from effects of a blow in
the eye received while playing hockey at Eton. His playmate who caused
the accident was Shute Barrington, afterwards Bishop of Durham. He
entered the army as an ensign in the Foot Guards. His first commission
is dated Dec. 8, 1756.
[3] This delay is chargeable to Howe, who kept the troops halted until
he could consult with Cornwallis in person as to future operations. The
question was, Should or should not the British army cross the Delaware?
VII
LEE'S MARCH AND CAPTURE
[Sidenote: December 2 and 3.]
"Hasten your march or your arrival may be too late." When this urgent
appeal was penned Lee had not yet seen fit to cross the Hudson, nor was
it until Washington had reached Princeton that Lee's troops were at last
put in motion toward the Delaware.
Hitherto Lee had been in some sort Washington's tutor, or at least
military adviser,--a role for which, we are bound in common justice to
say, Lee was not unfitted. But from the moment of separation he appears
in the light of a rival and a critic, and not too friendly as either. In
the beginning Washington had looked up to Lee. Lee now looked down upon
Washington. Unquestionably the abler tactician of the two, Lee seemed to
have looked forward to Washington's fall as certain, and to so have
shaped his own course as to leave him master of the situation. In so
doing he cannot be acquitted of disloyalty to the cause he served, if
that course threatened to wreck the cause itself.
[Sidenote: Lee's plans.]
It is only just to add that for troops taking the field in the dead of
winter, Lee's were hardly better prepared than those they were going to
assist. General Heath, who saw them march off, says that some of them
were as good soldiers as any in the service, but many were so destitute
of shoes that the blood left on the rugged, frozen ground, in many
places, marked the route they had taken; and he adds that a considerable
number, totally unable to march, were left behind at Peekskill. This
brings us face to face with the extraordinary and unlooked-for fact that
instead of bending all his energies toward effecting a junction with the
commander-in-chief, east of the Delaware, in time to be of service, Lee
had decided to adopt an entirely different line of conduct, more in
accord with his own ideas of how the remainder of the campaign should be
conducted. Meantime, as a cloak to his intentions, he kept up a show of
obeying the spirit, if not the letter, of his instructions, leaving the
impression, however, that he would take the responsibility of
disregarding them if he saw fit. If he had written to Washington, "You
have had your chance and failed; mine has now come," his words and acts
would have been in exact harmony.[1]
[Sidenote: December 7 and 8.]
On the 7th Lee was at Pompton. This day an express was sent off to him
by Heath informing him of the arrival of Greaton's, Bond's, and Porter's
battalions from Albany. Lee replied from Chatham directing them to march
to Morristown, where his own troops were then halted. The prospect of
this reenforcement, which in all probability he had been expecting to
intercept, may account both for the slowness of Lee's march, and for the
closing sentence of his reply to Heath. Here it is: "I am in hopes to
reconquer (if I may so express myself) the Jerseys. It was really in the
hands of the enemy before my arrival."
[Sidenote: Washington crosses the Delaware.]
[Sidenote: December 8.]
In halting as he did Lee was deliberately forcing a crisis with
Washington, who was all this time falling back upon his supplies, while
the British, having to drag theirs after them, could only advance by
spurts. Here was a rare opportunity for fighting in retreat being thrown
away, as Washington conceived, by Lee's dilatoriness in reenforcing
him. Reluctant to abandon his last chance of giving the enemy a check,
Washington seems to have thought of doing so at Princeton (ignorant that
this spot was so soon to be the field of more brilliant operations) as a
means of gaining time for the removal of his baggage across the
Delaware. It was probably with no other purpose that his advance, which
had reached Trenton as early as the 3d, was marched back to Princeton,
which Lord Sterling was still holding with the rear-guard as late as the
7th, when, as we have seen, Cornwallis made his forced march from
Brunswick to Princeton, in such force as to put resistance out of the
question. Here he halted for seventeen hours, thus giving Washington
time to reach Trenton, get his 2,200 or 2,400 men across the Delaware,
and draw them up on the other side, out of harm's reach, just as his
baffled pursuers arrived on the opposite bank.
Cornwallis immediately began a search for the means of crossing in his
turn.[2] Here, again, he was baffled by Washington's foresight, as
every boat for seventy miles up and down the Delaware had been removed
beyond his adversary's reach.
On the day of this catastrophe, which seemed, in the opinion not only of
the victors, but of the vanquished, to have given the finishing stroke
to the American Revolution, Lee's force, augmented by the junction of
the troops marching down to join him, was the sole prop and stay of the
cause in the Jerseys.
That force lay quietly at Morristown until the 12th of the month, when
it was again put in motion toward Vealtown, now Bernardsville.
[Sidenote: Gates arrives.]
[Sidenote: Lee taken.]
At this time a second detachment from the army of the North, under
Gates,[3] was on the march across Sussex County to the Delaware. Being
cut off from communication with the commander-in-chief, Gates sent
forward a staff officer to learn the condition of affairs, report his
own speedy appearance, and receive directions as to what route he should
take, Hearing that Lee was at Morristown, this officer pushed on in
search of him, and at four o'clock in the morning of the 13th, he found
Lee quartered in an out-of-the-way country tavern at Baskingridge,
three miles from his camp, and by just so much nearer the enemy, whose
patrols, since Washington had been disposed of, were now scouring the
roads in every direction. One of these detachments surprised the house
Lee was in, and before noon the crestfallen general was being hurried
off a prisoner to Brunswick by a squadron of British light-horse.
Lee's troops, now Sullivan's, with those of Gates, one or two marches in
the rear, freed from the crafty hand that had been leading them astray,
now pressed on for the Delaware, and thus that concert of action, for
which Washington had all along labored in vain, was again restored
between the fragments of his army, impotent when divided, but yet
formidable as a whole.
Lee's written and spoken words, if indeed his acts did not speak even
louder, leave no doubt as to his purpose in amusing Washington by a show
of coming to his aid, when, in fact, he had no intention of doing so. He
not only assumed the singular attitude, in a subordinate, of passing
judgment upon the propriety or necessity of his orders,--orders given
with full knowledge of the situation,--but proceeded to thwart them in
a manner savoring of contempt. Lee was Washington's Bernadotte. Neither
urging, remonstrance, nor entreaty could swerve him one iota from the
course he had mapped out for himself. Conceiving that he held the key to
the very unpromising situation in his own hands, he had determined to
make the gambler's last throw, and had lost.
Although Lee's conduct toward Washington cannot be justified, it is more
than probable that some such success as that which Stark afterwards
achieved at Bennington, under conditions somewhat similar, though
essentially different as to motives, might, and probably would, have
justified Lee's conduct to the nation, and perhaps even have raised him
to the position he coveted--of the head of the army, on the ruins of
Washington's military reputation. Could he even have cut the enemy's
line so as to throw it into confusion, his conduct might have escaped
censure. With this end in view he designed holding a position on the
enemy's flank,[4] arguing, perhaps, that Washington would be compelled
to reenforce him rather than see him defeated, with the troops now
beyond the Delaware. Washington saw through Lee's schemes, refused to be
driven into doing what his judgment did not approve, and the tension
between the two generals was suddenly snapped by the imprudence or worse
of Lee himself.
Captain Harris,[5] who saw Lee brought to Brunswick a prisoner, has this
to say of him: "He was taken by a party of ours under Colonel Harcourt,
who surrounded the house in which this arch-traitor was residing. Lee
behaved as cowardly in this transaction as he had dishonorably in every
other. After firing one or two shots from the house, he came out and
entreated our troops to spare his life. Had he behaved with proper
spirit I should have pitied him. I could hardly refrain from tears when
I first saw him, and thought of the miserable fate in which his
obstinacy has involved him. He says he has been mistaken in three
things: first, that the New England men would fight; second, that
America was unanimous; and third, that she could afford two men for our
one."[6]
Footnotes:
[1] Lee had expected the first place and had been given the second. His
successes while acting in a separate command (at Charleston) told
heavily against Washington's reverses in this campaign; and his
outspoken criticisms, frequently just, as the event proved, had produced
their due impression on the minds of many, who believed Lee the better
general of the two. Events had so shaped themselves, in consequence, as
to raise up two parties in the army. And here was laid the foundation of
all those personal jealousies which culminated in Lee's dismissal from
the army. While his abilities won respect, his insufferable egotism made
him disliked, and it is to be remarked of the divisions Lee's ambition
was promoting, that the best officers stood firmly by the
commander-in-chief.
[2] Cornwallis took no boats with him, as he might have done, from
Brunswick. A small number would have answered his purpose.
[3] Ticonderoga being out of danger for the present, Washington had
ordered Gates down with all troops that could be spared.
[4] As Washington had been urged to do, instead of keeping between
Cornwallis and Philadelphia.
[5] Lord George Harris, of the Fifth Foot.
[6] It will be noticed that this account differs essentially from that
of Wilkinson, who, though present at Lee's capture, hid himself until
the light-horse had left with their prisoner.
VIII
THE OUTLOOK
To all intents the campaign of 1776 had now drawn its lengthened
disasters to a close. It had indeed been protracted nearly to the point
of ruin, with the one result, that Philadelphia was apparently safe for
the present. But with Washington thrown back across the Delaware, Lee a
prisoner, Congress fled to Baltimore, Canada lost, New York lost, the
Jerseys overrun, the royal army stretched out from the Hudson to the
Delaware and practically intact, while the patriot army, dwindled to a
few thousands, was expected to disappear in a few short weeks, the
situation had grown desperate indeed.
So hopeless indeed was the outlook everywhere that the ominous cry of
"Every one for himself"--that last despairing cry of the
vanquished--began to be echoed throughout the colonies. We have seen
that even Washington himself seriously thought of retreating behind the
Alleghanies, which was virtual surrender. Even he, if report be true,
began to think of the halter, and Franklin's little witticism, on
signing the Declaration, of, "Come, gentlemen, we must all hang together
or we shall hang separately," was getting uncomfortably like inspired
prophecy.
If we turn now to the people, we shall find the same apparent consenting
to the inevitable, the same tendency of all intelligent discussion
toward the one result. One instance only of this feeling may be cited
here, as showing how the young men--always the least despondent portion
of any community--received the news of the retreat through the Jerseys.
Elkanah Watson sets down the following at Plymouth, Mass.: "We looked
upon the contest as near its close, and considered ourselves a
vanquished people. The young men present determined to emigrate, and
seek some spot where liberty dwelt, and where the arm of British tyranny
could not reach us. Major Thomas (who had brought them the dispiriting
news from the army) animated our desponding spirits with the assurance
that Washington was not dismayed, but evinced the same serenity and
confidence as ever. Upon him rested all our hopes."
[Sidenote: British plans.]
At the British headquarters the contest, with good reason, was felt to
be practically over. Unless all signs failed one short campaign would,
beyond all question, end it; for at no point were the Americans able to
show a respectable force. In the North a fresh army, under General
Burgoyne, was getting ready to break through Ticonderoga and come down
the Hudson with a rush, carrying all before them, as Cornwallis had done
in the Jerseys. This would cut the rebellion in two. On the same day
that Washington crossed the Delaware, Clinton had seized Newport,
without firing a shot. This would hold New England in check. In short,
should Howe's plans for the coming season work, as there was every
reason to expect, then there would be little enough left of the
Revolution in its cradle and stronghold, with the troops at New York,
Albany, and Newport acting in well-devised combination.
Brilliant only when roused by the presence of danger, Howe as easily
fell into his habitual indolence when the danger had passed by. In
effect, what had he to fear? Washington was beyond the Delaware, with
the debris of the army he had lately commanded, which served him rather
as an escort than a defence. If let alone, even this would shortly
disappear.
Under these circumstances Howe felt that he could well afford to give
himself and his troops a breathing-spell. This was now being put in
train. Cornwallis was about to sail for England, on leave of absence.
The garrison of New York disposed itself to pass the winter in idleness,
and even those detachments doing outpost duty in the Jerseys, after
having chased Washington until they were tired, turned their attention
exclusively to the disaffected inhabitants. The field had already been
reaped, and these troops were the gleaners.
[Sidenote: Chain of posts.]
To hold what had been gained a chain of posts was now stretched across
the Jerseys from Perth Amboy to the Delaware, with Trenton, Bordentown,
and Burlington as the outposts and New Brunswick as the depot, the first
being well placed either for making an advance, or for checking any
attempts by the Americans to recross the river. Washington believed that
the British would be in Philadelphia just as soon as the ice was strong
enough to bear artillery. If the expected dissolution of his army had
happened, no doubt the enemy's advanced troops would have taken
possession of the city at once. And it is even quite probable that this
contingency was considered a foregone conclusion, since British agents
were now actively at work in Washington's own camp, undermining the
feeble authority which everybody believed was tottering to its fall. Be
that as it may, the fact remains that active operations were for the
present wholly suspended. At the officers' messes or in the barracks all
the talk was of going home. Besides, if Howe had really wanted to take
Philadelphia there was nothing to prevent his doing so. There were no
defences. If saved at all, the city must be defended in the field, not
in the streets.
Bordentown being rather the most exposed, Count Donop was left there
with some 2,000 Hessians, and Colonel Rall at Trenton with 1,200 to
1,300 more. Both were veterans. As these Hessians were about equally
hated and feared, it was well reasoned that they would be all the more
watchful against a surprise.
[Illustration: THE ATTACK ON TRENTON.]
[Sidenote: Rall and Donop.]
As soon as he had time to look about him, Donop at once extended his
outposts down to Burlington, on the river, and to Black Horse, on the
back-road leading south to Mt. Holly, thus establishing himself at the
base point of a triangle from which his outposts could be speedily
reenforced, either from Bordentown or each other. The post at Burlington
was only eighteen miles from Philadelphia.
In order to understand the efforts subsequently made to break through it
this line should be carefully traced out on the map. In spots it was
weak, yet the long gaps, like that between Princeton and Trenton, and
between Princeton and Brunswick, were thought sufficiently secured by
occasional patrols.
To meet these dispositions of the enemy Washington stretched out the
remnant of his force along the opposite bank of the Delaware, from above
Trenton to below Bordentown, looking chiefly to the usual crossing
places, which were being vigilantly watched.
[Illustration: OPERATIONS IN THE JERSEYS.]
Under date of December 16 a British officer writes home as follows:
"Winter quarters are now fixed. Our army forms a chain of about ninety
miles in length from Fort Lee, where our baggage crossed, to Trenton on
the Delaware, which river, I believe, we shall not cross till next
campaign, as General Howe is returning to New York. I understand we are
to winter at a small village near the Raritan River, and are to form a
sort of advanced picket. There is mountainous ground very near this post
where the rebels are still in arms, and are expected to be troublesome
during the winter."
[Sidenote: Cruelties of troops.]
He then goes on to speak of the deplorable condition in which the
inhabitants had been left by the rival armies, dividing the blame with
impartial hand, and moralizing a little, as follows: "A civil war is a
dreadful thing; what with the devastation of the rebels, and that of the
English and Hessian troops, every part of the country where the scene of
the action has been looks deplorable. Furniture is broken to pieces,
good houses deserted and almost destroyed, others burnt; cattle, horses,
and poultry carried off; and the old plundered of their all. The rebels
everywhere left their sick behind, and most of them have died for want
of care."
This telling piece of testimony is introduced here not only because it
comes from an eye-witness, but from an enemy. Beneath the uniform the
man speaks out. But his omissions are still more eloquent. It was not
so much the loss of property, bad as that was, as the nameless
atrocities everywhere perpetrated by the royal troops upon the young,
the helpless, and the innocent, that makes the tale too revolting to be
told. In truth, all that part of the Jerseys held by the enemy had been
given up to indiscriminate rapine and plunder. It was in vain that the
victims pleaded the king's protection. As vainly did they appeal to the
humanity of the invaders. The brutal soldiery defied the one and laughed
at the other. Finding that the promised pardon and mercy were synonymous
with murder, arson, and rapine, such a revulsion of feeling had taken
place that the authors of these cruelties were literally sleeping on a
volcano; and where patriotism had so lately been invoked in vain, hope
of revenge was now turning every man, woman, and child into either an
open or a secret foe to the despoilers of their homes. One little breath
only was wanting to fan the revolt to a flame; one little spark to fire
the train. All eyes, therefore, were instinctively turned to the banks
of the Delaware.
IX
THE MARCH TO TRENTON
[Sidenote: Spirit of the officers.]
[Sidenote: Post at Bristol.]
Enough has been said to show that only heroic measures could now save
the American cause. Fortunately Washington was surrounded by a little
knot of officers of approved fidelity, whose spirit no reverses could
subdue. And though a calm retrospect of so many disasters, with all the
jealousies, the defections, and the terror which had followed in their
wake, might well have carried discouragement to the stoutest hearts,
this little band of heroes now closed up around their careworn chief,
and like the ever-famous Guard at Waterloo, were fully resolved to die
rather than surrender. This was much. It was still more when Washington
found his officers inspired by the same hope of striking the enemy
unawares which he himself had all along secretly entertained. The hope
was still further encouraged by a reenforcement of Pennsylvania
militia, whose pride had been aroused at seeing the invader's vedettes
in sight of their capital. These were posted at Bristol, under
Cadwalader,[1] as a check to Count Donop, while what was left of the old
army was guarding the crossings above, as a check to Rall.