the term of the regular troops would expire in a few days more, and no
one realized better than the commander-in-chief that the militia could
not long be held together inactive in camp.
[Sidenote: Rall's danger.]
The isolated situation of Rall and Donop seemed to invite attack. Their
fancied security seemed also to presage success. An inexorable necessity
called loudly for action before conditions so favorable should be
changed by the freezing up of the Delaware when, if the enemy had any
enterprise whatever, the river would no longer prevent, but assist, his
marching into Philadelphia, and perhaps dictating a peace from the halls
of Congress.
Donop being considerably nearer Philadelphia than Rall, was, as we have
seen, being closely watched by Cadwalader, whose force being largely
drawn from the city had the best reasons for wishing to be rid of so
troublesome a neighbor.
[Sidenote: Gates sulking.]
More especially in view of possible contingencies, which he could not be
on the ground to direct, Washington sent his able adjutant-general,
Reed,[2] down to aid Cadwalader. This action, too, removed a difficulty
which had arisen out of Gates' excusing himself from taking this command
on the plea of ill-health.
[Sidenote: In Philadelphia.]
Below Cadwalader, again, Putnam was in command at Philadelphia, with a
fluctuating force of local militia, only sufficiently numerous to
furnish guards for the public property, protect the friends, and watch
the enemies, of the cause, between whom the city was thought to be about
equally divided. Most reluctantly the conclusion had been reached that
the appearance of the British in force, on the opposite bank of the
Delaware, would be the signal for a revolt. Here, then, was another rock
of danger, upon which the losing cause was now steadily
drifting,--another warning not to delay action.
It was then that Washington resolved on making one of those sudden
movements so disconcerting to a self-confident enemy. It had been some
time maturing, but could not be sooner put in execution on account of
the wretched condition of Sullivan's (lately Lee's) troops, who had come
off their long march, as Washington expresses it, in want of everything.
[Sidenote: A first move.]
Putnam was the first to beard the lion by throwing part of his force
across the Delaware.[3] Whether this was done to mask any purposed
movement from above, or not, it certainly had that result. After
crossing into the Jerseys Griffin marched straight to Mt. Holly, where
he was halted on the 22d, waiting for the reenforcements he had asked
for from Cadwalader. Donop having promptly accepted the challenge,
marched against Griffin, who, having effected his purpose of drawing
Donop's attention to himself, fell back beyond striking distance.
It was Washington's plan to throw Cadwalader's and Ewing's[4] forces in
between Donop and Rall, while Griffin or Putnam was threatening Donop
from below; and he was striking Rall from above. Had these blows fallen
in quick succession there is little room to doubt that a much greater
measure of success would have resulted.
Orders for the intended movement were sent out from headquarters on the
23d. They ran to this effect:
[Sidenote: Rall the object.]
Cadwalader at Bristol, Ewing at Trenton Ferry, and Washington himself at
McKonkey's Ferry, were to cross the Delaware simultaneously on the night
of the 25th and attack the enemy's posts in their front. Cadwalader and
Ewing having spent the night in vain efforts to cross their commands,
returned to their encampments. It only remains to follow the movements
of the commander-in-chief, who was fortunately ignorant of these
failures.
Twenty-four hundred men, with eighteen cannon, were drawn up on the bank
of the river at sunset. Tolstoi claims that the real problem of the
science of war "is to ascertain and formulate the value of the spirit of
the men, and their willingness and eagerness to fight." This little band
was all on fire to be led against the enemy. No holiday march lay before
them, yet every officer and man instinctively felt that the last hope
of the Republic lay in the might of his own good right arm.
Did we need any further proof of the desperate nature of these
undertakings, it is found in the matchless group of officers that now
gathered round the commander-in-chief to stand or fall with him. With
such chiefs and such soldiers the fight was sure to be conducted with
skill and energy.
[Sidenote: Strong array of officers.]
Greene, Sullivan, St. Clair, Sterling, Knox, Mercer, Stephen, Glover,
Hand, Stark, Poor, and Patterson were there to lead these slender
columns to victory. Among the subordinates who were treading this rugged
pathway to renown were Hull, Monroe, Hamilton, and Wilkinson. Rank
disappeared in the soldier. Major-generals commanded weak brigades,
brigadiers, half battalions, colonels, broken companies. Some sudden
inspiration must have nerved these men to face the dangers of that
terrible night. History fails to show a more sublime devotion to an
apparently lost cause.
[Sidenote: The Delaware crossed.]
Boats being held in readiness the troops began their memorable crossing.
Its difficulties and dangers may be estimated by the failure of the two
cooeperating; corps to surmount them. Of this part of the work Glover[5]
took charge. Again his Marblehead men manned the boats, as they had done
at Long Island; and though it was necessary to force a passage by main
strength through the floating ice, which the strong current and high
wind steadily drove against them, the transfer from the friendly to the
hostile shore slowly went on in the thickening darkness and gloom of the
waiting hours.
Little by little the group on the eastern shore began to grow larger as
the hours wore on. Washington was there wrapped in his cloak, and in
that inscrutable silence denoting the crisis of a lifetime. Did his
thoughts go back to that eventful hour when he was guiding a frail raft
through the surging ice of the Monongahela? Knox was there animating the
utterly cheerless scene by his loud commands to the men in charge of his
precious artillery, for which the shivering troops were impatiently
waiting. At three o'clock the last gun was landed. The crossing had
required three hours more than had been allowed for it. Nearly another
hour was used up in forming the troops for the march of nine miles to
Trenton, which could hardly be reached over such a wretched road, and in
such weather, in less than from three to four hours more. To make
matters worse, rain, hail, and sleet began falling heavily, and freezing
as it fell.
To surround and surprise Trenton before daybreak was now out of the
question. Nevertheless, Washington decided to push on as rapidly as
possible; and the troops having been formed in two columns, were now put
in motion toward the enemy.
The march was horrible. A more severe winter's night had never been
experienced even by the oldest campaigners. To keep moving was the only
defence against freezing. Enveloped in whirling snow-flakes, encompassed
in blackest darkness, the little column toiled steadily on through
sludge ankle-deep, those in the rear judging by the quantity of snow
lodged on the hats and coats of those in front, the load that they
themselves were carrying. Not a word, a jest, or a snatch of song broke
the silence of that fearful march.
At a cross-road four and a half miles from Trenton the word was passed
along the line to halt. Here the columns divided. With one Greene filed
off on a road bearing to the left, which, after making a considerable
circuit, struck into Trenton more to the east. Washington rode with this
division. The other column kept the road on which it had been marching.
Sullivan led this division with Stark in the van. At this moment
Sullivan was informed that the muskets were too wet to be depended upon.
He instantly sent off an aid to Washington for further orders. The aid
came galloping back with the order to "go on," delivered in a tone which
he said he should never forget. With grim determination Sullivan again
moved forward, and the word ran through the ranks, "We have our bayonets
left."
All this time Ewing was supposed to be nearing Trenton from the south.
In that case the town would be assaulted from three points at once, and
a retreat to Bordentown be cut off.
Footnotes:
[1] John Cadwalader, of Philadelphia. His services in this campaign were
both timely and important.
[2] Joseph Reed succeeded Gates as adjutant-general after Gates was
promoted. Reed's early life had been passed in New Jersey, though he had
moved to Philadelphia before the war broke out. His knowledge of the
country which became the seat of war was invaluable to Washington.
[3] This force was under command of Colonel Griffin, Putnam's
adjutant-general.
[4] James Ewing, brigadier-general of Pennsylvania militia, posted
opposite to Bordentown. In some accounts he is called Irvine, Erwing,
etc.
[5] Col. John Glover commanded one of the best disciplined regiments in
Washington's army.
X
TRENTON
Very early in the evening there had been firing at Rall's outposts, but
the careless enemy hardly gave it his attention. Some lost detachment
had probably fired on the pickets out of mere bravado. The night had
been spent in carousal, and the storm had quieted Rall's mind as regards
any danger of an attack.[1]
[Sidenote: The attack.]
But in the gray dawn of that dark December morning the two assaulting
columns, emerging like phantoms from the midst of the storm, were
rapidly approaching the Hessian pickets. All was quiet. The newly fallen
snow deadened the rumble of the artillery. The pickets were enjoying the
warmth of the houses in which they had taken post, half a mile out of
town, when the alarm was raised that the enemy were upon them. They
turned out only to be swept away before the eager rush of the
Americans, who came pouring on after them into the town, as it seemed
in all directions, shouting and firing at the flying enemy. That long
night of exposure, of suspense, the fatigue of that rapid march, were
forgotten in the rattle of musketry and the din of battle.
[Sidenote: Street combats.]
Roused by the uproar the bewildered Hessians ran out of their barracks
and attempted to form in the streets. The hurry, fright, and confusion
were said to be like to that with which the imagination conjures up the
sounding of the last trump.[2] Grape and canister cleared the streets in
the twinkling of an eye. The houses were then resorted to for shelter.
From these the musketry soon dislodged the fugitives. Turned again into
the streets the Hessians were driven headlong through the town into an
open plain beyond it. Here they were formed in an instant, and Rall,
brave enough in the smoke and flame of combat, even thought of forcing
his way back into the town.
[Sidenote: Sullivan in action.]
But Washington was again thundering away in their front with his cannon.
In person he directed their fire like a simple lieutenant of artillery.
Off at the right the roll of Sullivan's musketry announced his steady
advance toward the bridge leading to Bordentown. The road to Princeton
was held by a regiment of riflemen. Those troops, whom Sullivan had been
driving before him, saved themselves by a rapid flight across the
Assanpink. Why was not Ewing there to stop them! Sullivan promptly
seized the bridge in time to intercept a disorderly mass of Hessian
infantry, who had broken away from the main body in a panic, hoping to
make their escape that way.
[Sidenote: Hessians surrender.]
Not knowing which way to turn next, Rall held his ground, like a wounded
boar brought to bay, until a bullet struck him to the ground with a
mortal wound. Finding themselves hemmed in on all sides, and seeing the
American cannoneers getting ready to fire with canister, at short range,
the Hessian colors were lowered in token of surrender.
A thousand prisoners, six cannon, with small-arms and ammunition in
proportion, were the trophies of this brilliant victory. The work had
been well done. From highest to lowest the immortal twenty-four hundred
had behaved like men determined to be free.
[Sidenote: The river recrossed.]
Now, while in the fresh glow of triumph, Washington learned that neither
Ewing nor Cadwalader had crossed to his assistance. He stood alone on
the hostile shore, within striking distance of the enemy at Bordentown,
and at Princeton. Donop, reenforced by the fugitives from Trenton,
outnumbered him three to two. Reenforced by the garrison at Princeton,
the odds would be as two to one. All these enemies he would soon have on
his hands, with no certainty of any increase of his own force.
His combinations had failed, and he must have time to look about him
before forming new ones. There was no help for it. He must again put the
Delaware behind him before being driven into it.
Washington heard these tidings as things which the incompetence or
jealousies of his generals had long habituated him to hear. Orders were
therefore given to repass the river without delay or confusion, and,
after gathering up their prisoners and their trophies, the victors
retraced their painful march to their old encampment, where they
arrived the same evening, worn out with their twenty-four hours'
incessant marching and fighting, but with confidence in themselves and
their leaders fully restored.
This little battle marked an epoch in the history of the war. It was now
the Americans who attacked. Trenton had taught them the lesson that, man
for man, they had nothing to fear from their vaunted adversaries; and
that lesson, learned at the point of the bayonet, is the only one that
can ever make men soldiers. The enemy could well afford to lose a town,
but this rise of a new spirit was quite a different thing. Therefore,
though a little battle, Trenton was a great fact, nowhere more fully
confessed than in the British camp, where it was now gloomily spoken of
as the tragedy of Trenton.
Footnotes:
[1] Harris says that Rall had intelligence of the intended attack, and
kept his men under arms the whole night. Long after daybreak, a most
violent snow-storm coming on, he thought he might safely permit his men
to lie down, and in this state they were surprised by the
enemy.--_Life_, p. 64.
[2] General Knox's account is here followed.--_Memoir_, p. 38.
XI
THE FLANK MARCH TO PRINCETON
[Sidenote: Cadwalader crosses.]
The events of the next two days, apart from Washington's own movements,
are a real comedy of errors. The firing at Trenton had been distinctly
heard at Cadwalader's camp and its reason guessed. Later, rumors of the
result threw the camps into the wildest excitement. Bitterly now these
men regretted that they had not pushed on to the aid of their comrades.
Supposing Washington still to be at Trenton, Cadwalader made a second
attempt to cross to his assistance at Bristol on the 27th, when, in
fact, Washington was then back in Pennsylvania.[1]
Cadwalader thus put himself into precisely the same situation from which
Washington had just hastened to extricate himself. But neither had
foreseen the panic which had seized the enemy on hearing of the surprise
of Trenton.
[Sidenote: At Bordentown.]
On getting over the river, Cadwalader learned the true state of things,
which placed him in a very awkward dilemma as to what he should do next.
As his troops were eager to emulate the brilliant successes of their
comrades, he decided, however, to go in search of Donop. He therefore
marched up to Burlington the same afternoon. The enemy had left it the
day before. He then made a night march to Bordentown, which was also
found deserted in haste. Crosswicks, another outpost lying toward
Princeton, was next seized by a detachment. That, too, had been
hurriedly abandoned. Cadwalader could find nobody to attack or to attack
him. The stupefied people only knew that their villages had been
suddenly evacuated. In short, the enemy's whole line had been swept away
like dead leaves before an autumnal gale, under that one telling blow at
Trenton.
Even Washington himself seems not to have realized the full extent of
his success until these astonishing reports came in in quick succession.
As the elated Americans marched on they saw the inhabitants everywhere
pulling down the red rags which had been nailed to their doors, as
badges of loyalty. "Jersey will be the most whiggish colony on the
continent," writes an officer of this corps of Cadwalader's. "The very
Quakers declare for taking up arms."[2]
[Sidenote: Trenton reoccupied.]
In view of the facts here stated, Washington was strongly urged to
secure his hold on West Jersey before the enemy should have time to
recover from their panic. The temper of the people seemed to justify the
attempt, even with the meagre force at his command. On the 29th he
therefore reoccupied Trenton in force. At the same time orders were sent
off to McDougall at Morristown, and Heath in the Highlands, to show
themselves to the enemy, as if some concerted movement was in progress
all along the line.[3]
[Sidenote: Princeton reenforced.]
Meantime the alarm brought about by Donop's[4] falling back on Princeton
caused the commanding officer there to call urgently for reenforcements.
None were sent, however, for some days, when the grenadiers and second
battalion of guards marched in from New Brunswick. In evidence of the
wholesome terror inspired by Washington's daring movements comes the
account of the reception of this reenforcement by an eye-witness,
Captain Harris, of the grenadiers, who writes of it: "You would have
felt too much to be able to express your feelings on seeing with what a
warmth of friendship our children, as we call the light-infantry,
welcomed us, one and all crying, 'Let them come! Lead us to them, we are
sure of being supported.' It gave me a pleasure too fine to attempt
expressing."
Howe was now pushing forward all his available troops toward Princeton.
Cornwallis hastened back to that place with the _elite_ of the army.
While these heavy columns were gathering like a storm-cloud in his front
Washington and his generals were haranguing their men, entreating them
to stay even for a few weeks longer. Such were the shifts to which the
commander-in-chief found himself reduced when in actual presence of this
overwhelming force of the enemy.
[Sidenote: Washington concentrates.]
Through the efforts of their officers most of the New England troops
reenlisted for six weeks--Stark's regiment almost to a man.[5] And these
battalions constituted the real backbone of subsequent operations.
Hearing that the enemy was at least ready to move forward, Cadwalader's
and Mifflin's troops were called in to Trenton, and preparations made
to receive the attack unflinchingly. This force being all assembled on
the 1st of January, 1777, Washington posted it on the east side of the
Assanpink, behind the bridge over which Rail's soldiers had made good
their retreat on the day of the surprise, with some thirty guns planted
in his front to defend the crossing. Washington and Rall had thus
suddenly changed places.
[Sidenote: His position, Jan. 2, 1777.]
The American position was strong except on the right. It being higher
ground the artillery commanded the town, the Assanpink was not fordable
in front, the bridge was narrow, and the left secured by the Delaware.
The weak spot, the right, rested in a wood which was strongly held, and
capable of a good defence; but inasmuch as the Assanpink could be forded
two or three miles higher up, a movement to the right and rear of the
position was greatly to be feared. If successful it would necessarily
cut off all retreat, as the Delaware was now impassable.
On the 2d the enemy's advance came upon the American pickets posted
outside of Trenton, driving them through the town much in the same
manner as they had driven the Hessians. As soon as the enemy came within
range, the American artillery drove them back under cover, firing being
kept up until dark.
Having thus developed the American position, Cornwallis, astonished at
Washington's temerity in taking it, felt sure of "bagging the fox," as
he styled it, in the morning.
The night came. The soldiers slept, but Washington, alive to the danger,
summoned his generals in council. All were agreed that a battle would be
forced upon them with the dawn of day--all that the upper fords could
not be defended. And if they were passed, the event of battle would be
beyond all doubt disastrous. Cornwallis had only to hold Washington's
attention in front while turning his flank. Should, then, the patriot
army endeavor to extricate itself by falling back down the river? There
seems to have been but one opinion as to the futility of the attempt,
inasmuch as there was no stronger position to fall back upon. As a
choice of evils, it was much better to remain where they were than be
forced into making a disorderly retreat while looking for some other
place to fight in.
Who, then, was responsible for putting the army into a position where it
could neither fight nor retreat? If neither of these things could be
done with any hope of success, there remained, in point of fact, but one
alternative, to which the abandonment of the others as naturally led as
converging roads to a common centre. In all the history of the war a
more dangerous crisis is not to be met with. It is, therefore,
incredible that only one man should have seen this avenue of escape,
though it may well be that even the boldest generals hesitated to be the
first to urge so desperate an undertaking.
[Sidenote: Washington's tactics.]
In effect, the very danger to which the little army was exposed seems to
have suggested to Washington the way out of it. If the enemy could turn
his right, why could not he turn their left? If they could cut off his
retreat, why could not he threaten their's? This was sublimated
audacity, with his little force; but safety here was only to be plucked
from the nettle danger. It was then and there that Washington[6]
proposed making a flank march to Princeton that very night, boldly
throwing themselves upon the enemy's communications, defeating such
reenforcements as might be found in the way, and perhaps dealing such a
blow as would, if successful, baffle all the enemy's plans.
The very audacity of the proposal fell in with the temper of the
generals, who now saw the knot cut as by a stroke of genius. This would
not be a retreat, but an advance. This could not be imputed to fear, but
rather to daring. The proposal was instantly adopted, and the generals
repaired to their respective commands.
[Sidenote: Jan. 3, 1777.]
[Sidenote: March to Princeton.]
Replenishing the camp fires, and leaving the sentinels at their posts,
at one o'clock the army filed off to the right in perfect silence and
order. The baggage and some spare artillery were sent off to Burlington,
to still further mystify the enemy. By one of those sudden changes of
weather, not uncommon even in midwinter, the soft ground had become hard
frozen during the early part of the night, so that rapid marching was
possible, and rapid marching was the only thing that could save the
movement from failure, as Cornwallis would have but twelve miles to
march to Washington's seventeen, to overtake them--he by a good road,
they by a new and half-worked one. Miles, therefore, counted for much
that night, and though many of the men wore rags wrapped about their
feet, for want of shoes, and the shoeless artillery horses had to be
dragged or pushed along over the slippery places, to prevent their
falling, the column pushed on with unflagging energy toward its goal.
[Sidenote: British in pursuit.]