IN THE SIEGE OF BOSTON.

“There is no time to lose,” remarked Adams to Washington. “Letters to me from Generals Warren and Ward insist that the undisciplined army cannot be kept together much longer without the aid of Congress; and Congress has done the best thing it could for the army in appointing you to its command.”

“I shall lose no time in preparations to take command of the army,” replied Washington. “I shall repair to Cambridge at once.”

“Without returning to Mount Vernon?”

“Yes; that would consume too much time. Much as I should enjoy a visit home, I must forego the pleasure, and hasten to my command.”

A sacrifice, truly, remarked Adams.

“And one that both my wife and mother will appreciate,” added Washington, “although the disappointment will be so great to them. Our country first, for the sake of our homes.

“True, very true; and it is a terrible necessity that makes it true,” continued Adams. “War is serious business, and under its direful necessities you may never see your loved Mount Vernon again.”

“No one can be more sensible of that than myself, but personal pleasure must yield to the demands of patriotism in such a crisis as this. Duty is the watchword now.”

Without consuming time for more than the most hasty preparation, Washington started for Massachusetts, after penning the following tender letter to his wife. The epistle shows so much of his noble character that our narrative would be incomplete without it:

PHILADELPHIA, June 18, 1775.

MY DEAREST, I am now set down to write 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. It has been determined in Congress that the whole army raised for the defence of the American cause shall be put under my care, and that it is necessary for me to proceed immediately to Boston to take upon me the command of it.

You may believe me, my dear Patsy, 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, and that 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. But as it has been a kind of destiny that has thrown me upon this service, I shall hope that my undertaking it is designed to answer some good purpose. You might, and I suppose did, perceive, from the tenor of my letters, that I was apprehensive I could not avoid this appointment, as I did not pretend to intimate when I should return. That was the case. It was utterly out of my power to refuse this appointment without exposing my character to such censures as would have reflected dishonor upon myself and given pain to my friends. This I am sure could not, and ought not, to be pleasing to you, and must have lessened me considerably in my own esteem. I shall rely, therefore, confidently on that Providence which has heretofore preserved and been bountiful to me, not doubting but that I shall return safe to you in the fall. I shall feel no pain from the toil or the 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 own pen. My earnest and ardent desire is, that you would pursue any plan that is most likely to produce content and a tolerable degree of tranquility; and it must add greatly to my uneasy feelings to hear that you are dissatisfied or complaining at what I really could not avoid.

As life is always uncertain, and common prudence dictates to every man the necessity of settling his temporal concerns while it is in his power, and while the mind is calm and undisturbed, I have, since I came to this place (for I had not time to do it before I left home), got Colonel Pendleton to draft a will for me, by the directions I gave him, which will I now enclose. The provisions made for you in case of my death will, I hope, be agreeable. I shall add nothing more, as I have several letters to write, but to desire that you will remember me to your friends, and to assure you that I am, with the most unfeigned regard, my dear Patsy,

Your affectionate husband.

The preparation of his will is expressive of his thoughts and feelings at the time, and it magnifies, also, the sacrifice he was making for his country.

It will be noticed that the letter to his wife is dated June 18, the day after the battle of Bunker Hill. He knew nothing of that battle, of course; and the fact shows all the more how rapidly public affairs were hastening to a crisis.

It was the 23d of June when he left Philadelphia, and just before leaving he addressed another brief letter to his wife, that furnishes a key to his heart:

PHILADELPHIA, June 23, 1775.

MY DEAREST, As I am within a few minutes of leaving this city, I could not think of departing from it without dropping you a line, especially as I do not know whether it will be in my power to write again until I get to the camp at Boston. I go fully trusting in that Providence which has been more bountiful to me than I deserve, and in full confidence of a happy meeting with you in the fall. I have not time to add more, as I am surrounded by company to take leave of me. I retain an unalterable affection for you, which neither time nor distance can change. My best love to Jack and Nelly, and regards to the rest of the family, concludes me, with the utmost sincerity,

Your entire
GEO. WASHINGTON.

Two thousand troops had gathered in Philadelphia, and he reviewed them before leaving. The whole two thousand escorted him out of the city, and a company of light-horse escorted him to New York, together with Generals Lee and Schuyler.

Twenty miles from Philadelphia he was met by a courier on horseback, bringing particulars of the battle of Bunker Hill.

“How many Americans were engaged in it?” Washington inquired.

“About twelve hundred only.”

“Who led them?”

“General Prescott.”

“How many were killed?”

“About four hundred and fifty were killed and wounded. The British lost more than half of their men.”

“What officers fell?”

“The brave General Warren was one.”

“Did the men fight well?”

“Never braver men met a foe.”

“Then the liberties of our country are safe,” added Washington.

As grand a welcome as could possibly be given, without the burning of powder, was tendered by the Provincial Assembly of New York and New Jersey. They could burn no powder because the Colony possessed but four barrels, having forwarded a thousand barrels to Cambridge for the use of the army.

Washington left General Schuyler in command at New York and hastened forward to Cambridge, for at New York he received a more detailed account of the battle of Bunker Hill. This information caused him to hasten his journey; and he reached Watertown, where the Legislature was sitting, on the second day of July. That body gave him an enthusiastic welcome, and presented a lengthy address to him, in which they spread out the deplorable condition of the army, pledging their prompt aid in its organization and discipline.

On the third day of July he was escorted by an imposing cavalcade to Cambridge, four miles distant, to take immediate command of the army. Notwithstanding the scarcity of powder, his arrival was announced by salvos of artillery; and the sight of him, in his splendid bearing, drew from the admiring thousands the heartiest cheers. The general of whom they had heard so much even more than met their expectations, and their joy knew no bounds.

Washington wheeled his noble charger under the shadow of the “Great Elm,” where he formally took command of the Continental Army, thereby making the tree historic to this day. He was forty-three years of age at that time.

Mrs. John Adams was in Cambridge when Washington arrived, and she wrote of him as follows:

“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 found General Artemas Ward in command, who informed him that, “We have fourteen thousand five hundred men, including the sick.”

“How many troops of the king hold Boston?” Washington inquired.

“About eleven thousand of the best disciplined troops that England could send over.”

“And how many inhabitants of Boston are there in the city now?”

“Seventeen thousand; and it is said that they are treated as rebels, except the Tories, who support the cause of the Crown. General Gage is in command, and Generals Howe, Clinton, and Burgoyne arrived with their last reinforcements.

“Gage was with me twenty years ago in the expedition against Duquesne,” said Washington. “Generals Howe, Clinton, and Burgoyne are the best generals the king can send, I suppose.”

“I judge so. At any rate this army is a mob compared to the royal army in Boston. Very few of them were ever in the service before. They know nothing about order and discipline, and care as little.”

“They must learn both as quickly as possible,” responded Washington. “An army without discipline can be little more than a mob. My first step will be to bring the army under rigid military discipline.”

Washington, accompanied by General Lee, took immediate measures to acquaint himself with the condition of the army, and in an incredibly short time had it distributed thus: The right wing was stationed on the heights of Roxbury, under the command of Major-General Ward; the left wing was stationed on Winter and Prospect Hills, in what is now the city of Somerville, under command of Major-General Lee; while the centre, under Major-General Putnam, occupied Cambridge. The army was thus distributed over a line of some twelve miles in length.

The army was destitute of clothing, ammunition, and nearly everything for its comfort. The mass of them were dressed as they were clad when they left their farms and work-shops, a dirty, ragged collection of armed men, though resolute and brave. Their cry against the king’s troops in Boston was:

“Shut them up! Starve them out! Drive them into their ships, and send their ships out to sea!”

To add to the disheartening situation, Charlestown lay in ashes, having been set on fire by the enemy’s shells at the battle of Bunker Hill; there were no well-constructed works throughout the whole line of fortifications; insubordination was popular among the troops, who called it independence; and still worse, jealousies prevailed among the troops of different Colonies.

The larger part of the army, nearly ten thousand, belonged to Massachusetts, and they were in the worst plight of all. Washington made the following magnanimous apology for them:

“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 members, discipline, and stores can only lead to this conclusion: that their spirit has exceeded their strength.”

A British officer wrote home:

“The rebel army are in so wretched a condition as to clothing and accoutrements, that I believe no nation ever saw such a set of tatterdemalions. There are few coats among them but what are out at elbows, and in a whole regiment there is scarce a whole pair of breeches.

Nevertheless, the material for an army in such a crisis was good. The famous General Nathaniel Greene of Rhode Island organized three regiments in that province after the Concord fight, and he was there with his men, “the best disciplined and appointed troops in the army.” Connecticut also raised a respectable force, and put them under the command of General Israel Putnam, who left his plough in the furrow, and galloped off to Boston; and they were there. The brave Colonel Stark of New Hampshire, with his “Green Mountain boys,” was there also. Other officers of ability were doing all they could with an undisciplined army, while the rank and file were eager to drive the foe out of Boston. A leader like Washington was needed to organize and manipulate this rough mass of material. A chief like him, too, was indispensable to elevate their moral condition; for drunkenness, revelry, lewdness, profanity, gambling, not to mention other evils, abounded.

The following was Washington’s first order to the army:

“The Continental Congress having now taken all the troops of the several Colonies which have been raised, or which may be hereafter raised, for the support and defence of the liberties of America, into their pay and service, they are now the troops of the United Provinces of North America; and it is hoped that all distinctions of Colonies will be laid aside, so that one and the same spirit may animate the whole, and the only contest be, who shall render, on this great and trying occasion, the most essential service to the great and common cause in which we are all engaged. It is required and expected that exact discipline be observed, and due subordination prevail, through the whole army, as a failure in these most essential points must necessarily produce extreme hazard, disorder, and confusion, and end in shameful disappointment and disgrace. The general most earnestly requires and expects a due observance of those articles of war established for the government of the army, which forbid profane cursing, swearing, and drunkenness. And in like manner he requires and expects of all officers and soldiers, not engaged on actual duty, a punctual attendance on divine service, to implore the blessing of Heaven upon the means used for our safety and defence.”

Rev. William Emerson was a chaplain in the army, and he wrote as follows of the wonderful change Washington wrought in a short time:

“There is great overturning in the camp as to order and regularity. New lords, new laws. The Generals Washington and Lee are upon the lines every day. New orders from his Excellency are read to the respective regiments every morning after prayers. The strictest government is taking place, and great distinction is made between officers and soldiers.

“Every one is made to know his place and keep in it, or be tied up and receive thirty or forty lashes, according to his crime. Thousands are at work every day from four to eleven o’clock in the morning. It is surprising how much work has been done. The lines are extended almost from Cambridge to Mystic River, so that very soon it will be morally impossible for the enemy to get between the works, except in one place, which is supposed to be left purposely unfortified to entice the enemy out of their fortresses.

“The British army in Boston understand their business,” remarked Washington to his secretary, Mr. Reed. “Their works are thoroughly constructed, and they seem to be provided with every thing that war requires. At that time he had reconnoitered until he had acquired quite a thorough knowledge of their defences.

“King George would not be likely to send over others,” answered Reed. “He is too anxious to awe his rebellious subjects into submission to pursue another course.”

“Well, they are in close quarters now,” continued Washington, “although, if they understood our weakness, they might fight their way out, and annihilate the American army. I have just discovered that all the powder in the camp will not furnish the soldiers nine cartridges apiece.”

“No more?” exclaimed Reed. “You surprise me!”

“You cannot be more surprised than I am. It is a fearful condition for this army to be in.”

“How can it be so?” added Reed, still more surprised. “According to that, powder is scarcer than clothing.”

“It is true, if my investigation does not mislead,” responded Washington. “No army was ever in a condition so deplorable; and I would not dare to let my soldiers know the actual state of things, lest they become demoralized.”

“Fortunate for us that so far they are in blissful ignorance of our condition,” said Reed; “but this state of affairs must not be suffered to continue.”

“Certainly not; I shall take immediate measures to remedy the evil.”

And he did. Agents were sent in different directions to procure ammunition. A vessel was sent to the Bermudas for this purpose. Expeditions to capture British forts in this country and Canada were set on foot. The manufacture of powder was recommended by Congress.

At that time, the transportation of supplies for an army was a slow and tedious work. There were no railroads, and the facilities for transportation by horses and cattle were far inferior to those of the present day. For example, a little later, Henry Knox, who was a thriving book-seller in Boston when the British took possession of the city, and who fought bravely at Bunker Hill, was sent to Ticonderoga and Crown Point, which the Americans had captured, to bring such artillery and ordnance stores as could be spared. He was instructed, also, to proceed to St. John and Montreal, both of which had just been captured by American expeditions under Benedict Arnold and Ethan Allen, Generals Schuyler and Montgomery. It was in the depth of winter when Knox returned with over fifty cannon, mortars, and howitzers, and a quantity of lead and flints, loaded upon forty sleds, drawn by eighty yoke of cattle. Washington procured for Knox the commission of colonel soon after he undertook the enterprise.

Washington’s headquarters were established at the CRAGIE HOUSE, a spacious building, favorably situated for the commander-in-chief. For many years it was owned by Professor Longfellow the poet, who died there some years since.

Order, sobriety, and religion regulated his headquarters. Morning and evening prayers were scrupulously maintained, and the whole appearance of the place indicated that the renowned occupant was a Christian.

Washington required the chaplains of all his regiments to conduct prayers morning and evening, and religious services on the Sabbath. The officers were required to see that their men attended all these services, since they were observed “for their good.”

Early in the siege of Boston, when he felt that “if success ever crowns the American cause, it will be because an All-wise Providence controls the affairs of men,” Washington advised the appointment of a day of fasting and prayer, to intercede for the blessing of God upon the little army at Cambridge. Congress appointed the day, and the commander-in-chief required its observance throughout the army. Religious services were held, all business suspended, and the day was made as quiet and religious as Sunday.

One of the earliest arrivals at the camp in Cambridge, after Washington took command, was from Virginia, Pennsylvania, and Maryland, fourteen hundred sharp-shooters, as we should call them now. They were tall, stalwart men, dressed in fringed hunting shirts and round caps. They were received in camp with the wildest demonstrations of joy. A few weeks later a long, lumbering train of wagons, laden with military stores captured on the sea, came into camp. Washington had been forced to send out cruisers, by the action of General Gage in arming vessels to capture supplies along the American coast. One of his cruisers captured a brigantine ladened with munitions of war, two thousand stand of arms, one hundred thousand flints, thirty thousand round shot, and thirty-two tons musket balls, which were taken into Cape Ann, and transported from thence on wagons to Cambridge.

In this way, as well as by the action of Congress and the Provincial Legislatures, the army of Washington was strengthened and equipped. The British were so thoroughly entrenched in Boston, and their army so well disciplined and powerful, that it would have been foolhardy for Washington to attack them; besides, an attack would have resulted in burning the city and sacrificing the lives of many friends who lived there.

“British officers must understand that men fighting for their country are patriots, and not malefactors,” remarked Washington to Mr. Reed, his secretary. “Cruelty to prisoners anyway is contrary to all the rules of civilized warfare.”

“Well, we are ‘rebels,’ you know,” replied Reed sarcastically, “and General Gage thinks that ‘rebels’ have no claim upon his clemency.”

“Cruelty to prisoners is not confined to General Gage,” responded Washington. “There is no doubt that the king holds Allen [Ethan] in irons, and his fellow-captives, which is treating prisoners of war as savages do.”

Ethan Allen was the famous patriot who led two hundred and thirty men against Fort Ticonderoga, and captured it in May, 1775. He surprised the commander, and demanded an immediate surrender.

“By whose authority do you make this demand?” inquired the officer in charge.

“In the name of the Great Jéhovah and the Continental Congress!” shouted Allen.

He was captured by General Prescott in Canada.

“Were the king’s forces in Boston to sally forth and conquer our army, the rules of civilized warfare would be of no account to them, I am thinking;” suggested Mr. Reed. “It behooves us to keep out of their clutches, or die in the attempt.”

The cruelty of British officers to prisoners was the subject of frequent discussion between Washington and his advisers, and finally he wrote to General Gage as follows:

“I understand that the officers engaged in the cause of liberty and their country, who, by the fortune of war have fallen into your hands, have been thrown indiscriminately into a common jail, appropriated to felons; that no consideration has been had for those of the most respectable rank, when languishing with wounds and sickness, and that some have been amputated in this unworthy situation.... The obligations arising from the rights of humanity and claims of rank are universally binding and extensive, except in case of retaliation. These, I should have hoped, would have dictated a more tender treatment of those individuals whom chance or war had put in your power.... My duty now makes it necessary to apprise you that, for the future, I shall regulate all my conduct towards those gentlemen who are, or may be, in our possession, exactly by the rule you shall observe toward those of ours now in your custody.

“If severity and hardships mark the line of your conduct, painful as it may be to me, your prisoners will feel its effects. But if kindness and humanity are shown to us, I shall with pleasure consider those in our hands only as unfortunate, and they shall receive from me that treatment to which the unfortunate are ever entitled.”

The reply of General Gage was characteristic of a conceited, ambitious, and domineering officer of the king, and Washington closed his reply to it with these words:

“I shall now, sir, close my correspondence with you, perhaps forever. If your officers, our prisoners, receive a treatment from me different from that which I wished to show them, they and you will remember the occasion of it.”

Subsequently, Washington ordered British officers at Watertown and Cape Ann, who were at large on parole, to be confined in the jail at Northampton, explaining to them that it was not agreeable to his feelings of humanity, but according to the treatment of Americans whom the officers of the crown held as prisoners. But he could not tolerate even this mild form of retaliation, and therefore in a short time he revoked the order, and the prisoners were at large again.

“I was never more distressed in mind than I am now,” remarked Washington to a member of his staff.

“Why so?”

“Within a few days this army will be reduced to less than ten thousand men by the expiration of enlistments,” answered Washington; “and when we can ever attack Boston is a problem. For six months I have been waiting for powder, fire-arms, recruits, and what-not; and here we are with the 1st of January, 1776, right upon us, when several thousand soldiers will leave.”

“A very discouraging fact indeed,” answered the staff officer; “and how will you fill the breach created by their going?”

“That is what troubles me. We shall be forced to require soldiers whose term of enlistment expires, to leave their muskets, allowing them fair compensation for the same. And to encourage their successors to bring arms, we must charge each one of them who fails to bring his gun one dollar for the use of the one we provide.”

“A novel way of recruiting and supplying an army, truly,” said the staff officer.

“The only way left to us,” remarked Washington.

“Yes; and I suppose that any way is better than none.”

Washington wrote to a friend on the 4th of January:

“It is easier to conceive than to describe the situation of my mind for some time past and my feelings under our present circumstances. Search the volume of history through, and I much question whether a case similar to ours can be found; namely, to maintain a post against the power of the British troops for six months together without powder, and then to have one army disbanded and another raised within the same distance (musket shot) of a reinforced enemy.... For two months past I have scarcely emerged from one difficulty before I have been plunged into another. How it will end, God, in His great goodness, will direct. I am thankful for His protection to this time.”

A few days later he wrote:

“The reflection of my situation and that of this army produces many an unhappy hour, when all around me are wrapped in sleep. Few people know the predicament we are in on a thousand accounts; fewer still will believe, if any disaster happens to these lines, from what cause it flows. I have often thought how much happier I should have been, if, instead of accepting the command under such circumstances, I had taken my musket on my shoulder and entered the ranks; or, if I could have justified the measure to posterity and my own conscience, had retired to the back country and lived in a wigwam.”

Still, through his tact and indomitable perseverance, Washington found his army in a condition to attack Boston in March. He had vainly tried to induce the British troops to leave their comfortable quarters and come out to battle. He had so effectually cut off their supplies by his determined siege that the British Government was compelled to send supplies from home. But now he felt that the time for action had come. He called a council of war.

“Our situation compels action of some kind to save ourselves, even at great risk,” he said to his advisers. “There is a cloud over the public mind, and there is danger on the north and on the south. Montgomery has fallen before Quebec, and our little army in Canada is depleted and broken. Tryon and the Tories are plotting mischief in New York, and Dunmore in Virginia. Clinton, too, is making depredations along the coast.”

“And what do you propose?” inquired one.

“To attack Boston.”

“And take the risk?”

“Yes; and take the risk, which will prove less, I believe, that the risk incurred by continual inaction.”

“Do you propose an immediate movement?”

“On the 4th of March, the anniversary of the ‘Boston Massacre.’ It is a good time to avenge that wrong.”

On the 4th of March, 1775, the British troops, who were often insolent and overbearing to the citizens of Boston, were attacked and stoned by indignant parties. A brief contest followed, in which four Americans were killed and several wounded. This was called the “Boston Massacre.”

“I hope that your movement will be successful, but it is a hazardous one,” suggested one of the council. “An attack all along the line?”

“By no means,” answered Washington. “The project is hazardous indeed, but that is inevitable. On the night of March 3 I propose to take possession of Dorchester Heights, throw up breastworks, and by the time the enemy can see the Heights in the morning, be prepared to hold the position.”

“And if the whole British army attack us, what then?”

“General Putnam shall have a force of four thousand men on the opposite side of the town, in two divisions, under Generals Sullivan and Greene. At a given signal from Roxbury, they shall embark at the mouth of Charles River, cross under cover of three floating batteries, land in two places in Boston, secure its strong posts, force the gates and works at the neck, and let in the Roxbury troops. This, in case they make a determined attempt to dislodge us.

Washington waited for a reply. The bold plan somewhat perplexed his advisers at first, and there was silence for a moment. At length one spoke, and then another, and still another, until every objection was canvassed. The plan was finally adopted, but kept a profound secret with the officers who were to conduct the enterprise.

We cannot dwell upon details. Agreeable to Washington’s arrangement, when the expedition with tools, arms, supplies, and other necessaries was ready to move on the evening of March 3, a terrible cannonading of the British by the American army, at two different points, commenced, under the cover of which our troops reached Dorchester Heights without attracting the attention of the enemy. The reader may judge of the cannonading by the words of Mrs. John Adams, who wrote to her husband thus:

“I have just returned from Penn’s Hill, where I have been sitting to hear the amazing roar of cannon, and from whence I could see every shell that was thrown. The sound, I think, is one of the grandest in nature, and is of the true species of the sublime. It is now an incessant roar.

“I went to bed about twelve, and rose again a little after one. I could no more sleep than if I had been in the engagement; the rattling of the windows, the jar of the house, the continual roar of twenty-four pounders, and the bursting of shells, give us such ideas, and realize a scene to us of which we could scarcely form any conception. I hope to give you joy of Boston, even if it is in ruins, before I send this away.”

What the British beheld on the morning of March 4, to their surprise and alarm, is best told in the words of one of their officers.

“This morning at daybreak we discovered two redoubts on Dorchester Point, and two smaller ones on their flanks. They were all raised during last night, with an expedition equal to that of ‘the genii’ belonging to Alladin’s wonderful lamp. From these hills they command the whole town, so that we must drive them from their post or desert the place.”

The British general, Howe, exclaimed:

“The rebels have done more work in one night than my whole army would have done in a month.”

General Howe had superseded General Gage some time before this exploit.

Quickly as possible, General Howe began to bombard the new fortifications on Dorchester Heights. All through the day he cannonaded the little American army, and, under the cover of the bombardment, prepared to land twenty-five hundred picked men at night, and carry the Heights by storm. His guns did little damage, however, through the day. Washington was present in person, encouraging the soldiers, and directing them in strengthening the fortifications.

Under the darkness of night General Howe sent twenty-five hundred of his best soldiers, in transports, to capture the “rebel works.” But a furious northeast storm arose, and beat upon them with such violence that it was impossible to land. They were compelled to postpone the attack until the next night. But the storm continued, and even increased. The wind blew a gale and the rain descended in torrents all through the following day and night, shutting up the enemy within their own quarters, and allowing the Americans time to multiply their works and render them impregnable.

When the storm ceased, an English officer declared that the Americans were invincible in their strong position. That General Howe was of the same opinion is evident from the fact that he decided to evacuate Boston.

Had General Howe been able to land his troops on the first night, as he planned, there is little doubt that Washington would have been driven from the Heights as the Americans were driven from Bunker Hill, so that the intervention of the storm seemed peculiarly providential. When Washington issued his order, months before, for the strict observance of the Sabbath and daily religious service by the army, General Lee, who was a godless scoffer, remarked, derisively, “God is on the side of the heaviest battalions.

But in this case the storm favored the weakest battalions.

General Howe conferred with the authorities of Boston, and promised to evacuate the city without inflicting harm upon it if the Americans would not attack him. Otherwise he would commit the city to the flames, and leave under cover of the mighty conflagration. Washington wrote to him:

“If you will evacuate the city without plundering or doing any harm, I will not open fire upon you. But if you make any attempt to plunder, or if the torch is applied to a single building, I will open upon you the most deadly bombardment.”

Howe promised: yet such was the disposition of the British soldiers to acts of violence, that he was obliged to issue an order that soldiers found plundering should be hanged on the spot; and he had an officer, with a company of soldiers and a hangman, march through the streets, ready to execute his order.

It was not, however, until the 17th of March that the embarkation of the British army commenced. About twelve thousand soldiers and refugees embarked in seventy-eight vessels. The refugees were Americans who favored the British cause (called Tories), and they did not dare to remain in this country. Washington wrote about these refugees:

“By all accounts there never existed a more miserable set of beings than those wretched creatures now are. Taught to believe that the power of Great Britain was superior to all opposition, and that foreign aid was at hand, they were even higher and more insulting in their opposition than the regulars. When the order was issued, therefore, for embarking the troops in Boston, no electric shock, no sudden clap of thunder, in a word, the last trump, could not have struck them with greater consternation. They were at their wits’ end; chose to commit themselves, in the manner I have above described, to the mercy of the waves at a tempestuous season, rather than meet their offended countrymen.”

With exceeding joy Washington beheld the “precipitate retreat” of the British army from Boston, but fired not a gun. One of General Howe’s officers wrote afterwards:

“It was lucky for the inhabitants now left in Boston that they did not, for I am informed that everything was prepared to set the town in a blaze had they fired one cannon.”

We have intentionally passed over several incidents, with the rehearsal of which we will bring this chapter to a close.

When Washington assumed the command of the American army, he left his Mount Vernon estate in charge of Mr. Lund Washington, continuing to direct its management by correspondence. He expected to return to his home in the autumn, and so encouraged his wife to believe. But in this he was sorely disappointed. His thoughtful and benevolent character appears in one of his early letters to his agent:

“Let the hospitality of the house with respect to the poor be kept up. Let no one go hungry away. If any of this kind of people should be in want of corn, supply their necessaries, provided it does not encourage them to idleness; and I have no objection to your giving my money in charity to the amount of forty or fifty pounds a year, when you think it is well bestowed. What I mean by having no objection is, that it is my desire that it should be done.”

Many Americans feared that the enemy might send a war vessel up the Potomac and destroy the Mount Vernon residence and capture Mrs. Washington. She was earnestly advised to leave, and repair to a place of safety beyond the Blue Ridge. But Washington sent for her to come to him at Cambridge.

She was four weeks travelling from Mount Vernon to Cambridge. She performed the journey in her own carriage, a chariot drawn by four fine horses, with black postilions in scarlet and white liveries. This was an English style of equipage, and the public sentiment of that day demanded that the commander-in-chief should adopt it. She was accompanied by her son, and was escorted from place to place by guards of honor. Her arrival in Cambridge was the signal for great rejoicing. The army received her with the honors due to her illustrious husband.

She immediately took charge of Washington’s headquarters, and soon became as popular in the domestic and social circle as her husband was in camp and field. It was at Cambridge that she was first called “Lady Washington.”

As an illustration of Washington’s rigid discipline, an incident is related of his manner of suppressing a disturbance. It was during the winter he was besieging Boston.

A party of Virginia riflemen met a party of Marblehead fishermen. The dress of the fishermen was as singular to the riflemen as that of the riflemen was to the fishermen, and they began to banter each other. Snow-balls soon began to fly back and forth, and finally hard blows were interchanged. A melee occurred, in which a thousand soldiers participated.

Hearing of the disturbance, Washington hastened to the scene, and, leaping from his horse, he seized two burly Virginians by the neck, and held them out at arm’s length, at the same time administering a rebuke in words that scattered the combatants as suddenly as a cannonade would have done.

The British army committed many depredations in Boston during the year they held possession of it. They tore out the pulpit and pews of the Old South Church, and converted it into a riding-school for General Burgoyne’s light-horse regiment. They took down the North Church and used it for fuel. They used up about three hundred wooden houses in the same way.

In the winter a theatre was established for the entertainment of the British soldiers. At one time a British officer wrote a farce entitled, “The Blockade of Boston,” to be played on a given evening. It was a burlesque upon Washington and the American army. It represented the commander-in-chief of the American army as an awkward lout, equipped with a huge wig, and a long, rusty sword, attended by a country booby as orderly sergeant, in a rustic garb, with an old fire-lock seven or eight feet long.

The theatre was filled to overflowing on the night the farce was announced. It happened that, on the same night, General Putnam sent a party of two hundred men to surprise and capture a British guard stationed at Charlestown. His daring exploit was successful, though his men were fired upon by the garrison of the fort. The thunder of artillery caused a British officer to believe that the Yankees were in motion, and he rushed into the theatre, crying, “The Yankees are attacking Bunker Hill!”

At first the audience supposed that this announcement was part of the play. But General Howe, who was present, undeceived them by calling out, “Officers, to your alarm posts!”

The farce turned out to be tragedy, and the curtain fell upon the scene. The audience scattered like a flock of sheep.

The failure of the British to hold Boston was extremely mortifying to General Howe and the English Government. When the king’s regiments first took possession of the city, one of the officers wrote home:

“Whenever it comes to blows, he that can run the fastest will think himself well off, believe me. Any two regiments here ought to be decimated if they did not beat in the field the whole force of the Massachusetts Province.”

General Gage said to the king, before leaving England to take command of the forces in Boston, “The Americans will be lions so long as the English are lambs. Give me five regiments and I will keep Boston quiet.”

When General Burgoyne was sailing into Boston Harbor to join his king’s army, and his attention was called to the fact that a few thousand undisciplined “rebels” were besieging a town garrisoned by five or six thousand British regulars, he exclaimed in derision:

“What! ten thousand peasants keep five thousand king’s troops shut up? Well, let us get in and we’ll soon find elbow-room.”

He failed to find “elbow room” until he put out to sea.

To be driven out of Boston, when such a result was considered impossible by the foe, was doubly humiliating to the sons of Great Britain. It was proportionably glorious to American patriots, and they took possession of the city with exultation and devout thanksgivings to God.

Congress unanimously adopted a eulogistic resolution, rehearsing the valor and achievements of the commander-in-chief, and ordered a gold medal, with appropriate inscription, to be struck off, and presented to him as a token of the country’s gratitude.