DEFEAT AND VICTORY.

The plan of the British for 1777 was, for General Howe, with twenty thousand men, to land at the head of Elk River, and march north through Philadelphia; while General Burgoyne, starting from Canada with ten thousand men, should march south to meet Howe, rallying both Tories and Indians to his standard.

The militia of Pennsylvania, Delaware, and Northern Virginia were called out to defend Philadelphia; and Washington advanced to Wilmington. In order to impress the Tories of Philadelphia, he marched through the city at the head of his column, with Lafayette at his side, making an imposing display that captivated the friends of liberty, and awed the Tories.

It was in this campaign that an officer of the army dined with Washington at his headquarters. Several guests graced the occasion. When, agreeable to the prevailing custom, the general proposed to drink a glass of wine with him, the officer replied, “You will have the goodness to excuse me, as I have made it a rule not to take wine.”

The other guests were surprised. They regarded the act as a direct insult to the commander-in-chief. Washington read their feelings in their faces, and he remarked: “Gentlemen, my friend is right; I do not wish any of my guests to partake of anything against their inclination, and I certainly do not wish them to violate any established principle in their social intercourse with me. I honor Mr. for his frankness, for his consistency in thus adhering to an established rule which can never do him harm, and for the adoption of which, I have no doubt, he has good and sufficient reasons.

While Washington was watching the British fleet, General Burgoyne was advancing from the north, his Hessian soldiers and Indian allies indulging themselves in terrifying and plundering the defenceless inhabitants. On the 16th of August the battle of Bennington was fought, in which the American troops, under the brave General Stark, won a decisive victory. Stark addressed his troops in words of cheer before going into battle, and closed by saying:

“Now, my men, there are the red-coats. Before night they must be ours, or Molly Stark will be a widow.”

Stark captured thirty-two British officers, five hundred and sixty-four privates, four brass field-pieces, a thousand stand of arms, and a large quantity of ammunition.

The moral effect of this victory was grand. The farmers rushed to the American camp, to follow up the victory by surrounding Burgoyne, cutting off his supplies, and driving him to Saratoga.

Washington hailed the victory with great joy, and proclaimed it at the head of his army to inspire his troops to nobler deeds.

Another bloody battle was fought at Fort Schuyler, where the Americans bravely defended and held the fort. The Indians conducted so much like fiends incarnate that even the Hessians were shocked. A Hessian officer wrote:

“These savages are heathen; huge, warlike, and enterprising, but wicked as Satan. Some say they are cannibals, but I do not believe it; though, in their fury, they will tear the flesh of the enemy with their teeth.”

A Miss McCrea, daughter of a New Jersey clergyman, was visiting friends at the North. Her lover was a Tory, and he was in the British army, so that she felt no anxiety at the approach of Burgoyne.

Early one morning she was startled by the horrid yells of savages, who had surrounded the house where she was visiting. Before she was scarcely aware of her peril, they burst into the house, in their wild fury, seized her, and bore her away in triumph. While they were disputing as to whom the prize belonged, a drunken chief buried his tomahawk in her head, whereupon she was scalped and left dead upon the ground.

Nine days after the battle of Bennington, Washington learned that General Howe was landing his troops in Elk River, seventy miles from Philadelphia. It was not, however, until the 8th of September that the two armies met, and the battle of Brandywine was fought.

Washington had eleven thousand men, and Howe eighteen thousand. It was a sanguinary contest, in which the Americans were defeated, with a loss of twelve hundred. Lafayette conducted himself with great coolness and bravery, and was wounded by a bullet that passed through his leg.

The consternation in Philadelphia was now appalling. Many of the citizens fled; Congress adjourned to Lancaster; confusion and dismay turned the city into Bedlam.

Washington retreated to Germantown to prepare for another battle. He was beaten, but not dismayed.

Another instance of the providential care over Washington occurred just before the battle of Brandywine. In disguise, accompanied by a single officer in a Hussar dress, he reconnoitered one day. Major Ferguson beheld him at a distance, and, supposing he belonged to the enemy, he ordered three riflemen to steal near to him and fire. But, for some unaccountable reason, he recalled the riflemen before they fired. What was his surprise on the next day to learn that the supposed enemy, whom he would have shot, was his own general, Washington!

Howe could not ascend the Delaware to Philadelphia because it was defended by Forts Mifflin and Mercer. He prepared to attack them.

A large force of British were at Germantown, and on the night of Oc, Washington performed a march of fifteen miles and attacked them. A quick and signal victory perched upon his banners, and the enemy fled in confusion. The victory was turned into defeat, however, by a serious blunder. The British had been driven three miles, leaving tents and baggage behind, and were still on the retreat when in the dense fog, several Jersey and Maryland regiments approaching, were mistaken for British reinforcements. The cry was raised: “We are surrounded and retreat cut off!” whereupon the Americans retreated in confusion.

General Sullivan wrote of Washington in that battle:

“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 others, withdrew a short distance; but his anxiety for the fate of the day soon brought him up again, where he remained till our troops had retreated.”

At great sacrifice of men and money, the British removed the obstructions from the river, and took possession of Philadelphia.

Dr. Franklin was in Paris when the news reached him, “Howe has taken Philadelphia.” “No,” replied Franklin, “Philadelphia has taken Howe.”

The sequel proved that Franklin had an eye upon the future.

Although the prospect was gloomy in Pennsylvania, glad tidings came to Washington from the north. The Americans completely surrounded Burgoyne’s army at Saratoga, so that farther retreat was impossible. On the 16th of October, 1777, after holding a council of war, Burgoyne surrendered to General Gates, remarking:

“The fortune of war has made me your prisoner.”

“I shall always be ready to testify that it has not been through any fault of your excellency,” Gates replied.

Burgoyne’s army was reduced from nine thousand men, to five thousand seven hundred and fifty-two. These prisoners were allowed a free passage to Europe, under the irrevocable condition not to serve again in the British ranks. Seven thousand stand of arms, a large number of tents, a long train of artillery, and a great quantity of clothing and stores fell into the hands of the victors.

The celebrated Polish patriot Kosciusko was chief engineer in Gates’ command when Burgoyne was captured.

The British made Philadelphia their winter quarters, where the troops indulged themselves in almost unrestrained revelry. They forced many sympathizers with the American cause to vacate their dwellings for the accommodation of their own number; and many were quartered upon patriotic families, with the express understanding that failure to supply their wants would be resented.

Washington went into winter quarters at Valley Forge, about twenty miles from Philadelphia. The tale of suffering connected with that place during that long, dreary winter, is known to the world.

Arriving there, many of the troops without blankets or shoes, ragged, worn out, and desponding, they were exposed to the snows and blasts of December until they could cut down trees and build their own huts. Two days after encamping, General Huntington reported to Washington:

“My brigade are out of provisions, nor can the commissary obtain any meat.”

General Varnum reported:

Three days successively we have been destitute of bread. Two days we have been entirely without meat. Against his own judgment, in order to prevent mutiny in his army, Washington was forced to forage the country and seize supplies wherever he could find them, paying for them in money, or certificates redeemable by Congress.

Yet we find Washington writing thus:

“For some days past there has been little less than a famine in the camp. 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 cannot 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.”

Sickness and mortality prevailed to an alarming extent among the troops, while scarcely any medicines were at hand. Even scores of horses perished by hunger and the severity of the weather.

One day circumstances drew Washington’s attention to a hungry soldier who was on guard. The general had just come from his own table and he said:

“Go to my table and help yourself.”

“I can’t; I am on guard,” the soldier replied. Immediately taking the soldier’s gun to play the part of sentinel, Washington said, “Go.”

The soldier enjoyed the first square meal he had eaten for two days, and at the same time he learned that his general had true sympathy with the “boys,” and that official distinction did not lift him above the humblest of their number.

With his army in such a deplorable condition, and his cannon frozen up and immovable, Washington knew very well that, almost any day, the British might march out of Philadelphia and capture or annihilate his entire command. His anxiety and trouble can be more easily imagined than described.

To add to the trials of that winter, Washington learned of a conspiracy against him, the object of which was to supersede him by General Gates as commander-in-chief. His old friend Dr. Craik wrote to him:

“Notwithstanding your unwearied diligence and the unparalleled sacrifice of domestic happiness and care of mind which you have made for the good of your country, yet you are not wanting in secret enemies, who would rob you of the great and truly deserved esteem your country has for you. Base and villanous men, through chagrin, envy, or ambition, are endeavoring to lessen you in the minds of the people, and taking underhand methods to traduce your character,” etc.

Generals Gates, Mifflin, and Conway were engaged in this plot; but their timely and complete exposure redounded to the honor of Washington.

The duel which General Hamilton fought with General Conway, in which the latter was severely wounded, grew out of this affair. Hamilton could not endure the presence of an officer who was secretly plotting against his chief.

In the month of February Mrs. Washington joined her husband at Valley Forge, to share his winter quarters with him, as she had done at Cambridge and Morristown. She wrote to a friend:

“The general’s apartment is very small; he has had a log cabin built to dine in, which has made our quarters much more tolerable than they were at first.

“The commander-in-chief shared the privations of the camp with his men. His cabin was like theirs.

The presence of Mrs. Washington at Valley Forge was a blessing to the army. She occupied her time fully in caring for the sick, sewing and mending for the “boys,” and making herself generally useful.

Again the commander-in-chief interceded with Congress for more liberal pay for his soldiers. Alluding to the sufferings of his soldiers, he wrote:

“To see men without clothes to cover their nakedness, without blankets to lie on, without shoes (for the want of which their marches might be traced by the blood from their feet), and almost as often without provisions as with them, marching through the frost and snow, and at Christmas taking up their winter quarters within a day’s march of the enemy, without a house or hut to cover them till it could be built, and submitting without a murmur, is a proof of patience and obedience which, in my opinion, cannot be paralleled.”

It was during this memorable winter at Valley Forge that a man by the name of Potts was strolling through the woods, when he heard the sound of a human voice. Cautiously approaching the spot whence the voice proceeded, what was his surprise to discover Washington on his knees engaged in earnest prayer for his country. On returning home, Potts called to his wife, “Sarah, Sarah, all is well. George Washington will triumph!”

“What is the matter now, Isaac? Thee seems moved,” Mrs. Potts replied. (They were Quakers.)

“I have this day seen what I never expected to see,” Mr. Potts continued. “Thee knows that I have always thought the sword and the gospel utterly inconsistent, and that no man could be a soldier and a Christian at the same time. But George Washington has this day convinced me of my mistake.”

He then described the scene he had witnessed, adding:

“If George Washington be not a man of God, I am greatly deceived; and still more shall I be deceived if God does not, through him, work out a great salvation for America.”

Baron Steuben, a renowned European general, coming to this country at this juncture to proffer his services, through the influence of Dr. Franklin, Washington induced Congress to commit the reorganization of the army to him. This proved a fortunate arrangement for the future of the army and country, next to the appointment of General Green quarter-master-general.

Previously a distinguished Pole, Thaddeus Kosciusko, who was educated in the military school at Warsaw, had come to him with a letter from Dr. Franklin.

“And what do you seek here?” inquired Washington.

“To fight for American independence,” replied Kosciusko.

“What can you do?”

“Try me.”

Washington welcomed him heartily, and throughout the Revolution he proved to be an able and faithful ally.

Count Pulaski, another famous general of Poland, had joined the American army at the solicitation of Dr. Franklin, who introduced him by letter to Washington.

Washington had corresponded with the British general respecting an exchange of General Lee and Ethan Allen, but he was unable to effect an exchange until this winter of his trials at Valley Forge. General Prescott, who captured Allen in Canada, ironed him, and sent him to England, was himself captured in the summer of 1777; and Washington proposed to exchange him for General Lee, and Colonel Campbell for Colonel Allen. It was not, however, until near the close of the long dreary winter at Valley Forge that his proposition was accepted. Lee rejoined the army, but Allen returned to his home in Vermont, where he hung up his sword and retired to private life.

In the spring of 1778, the glad news came that an alliance with France was accomplished, and henceforth the struggling Colonies might expect assistance from that country. At the same time a war between France and England was imminent, a calamity that would prove favorable to the patriots of America, since the British Government could not keep its army in Philadelphia and wage a war with France.

Lafayette was instrumental in consummating the alliance with France. For this purpose he left the United States in 1779, and returned in March, 1780. His own country received him with open arms, and honored him by appointing him to one of the highest positions in their army.

In the month of May there were some indications that the enemy were about to evacuate Philadelphia. The news that a French fleet under Count D’Estaing was about to sail to this country, to aid the Colonies in their fight for independence, caused Sir Henry Clinton, who had succeeded Howe in the command of the British army, to fear that he might be blockaded in the Delaware.

“Shall we allow the enemy to leave the city without attacking them?” inquired Washington at the council of war.

“Yes,” promptly answered General Lee, just restored to his command. “If they will go, let them go. This army is too weak to attack the British in their stronghold.”

“The two armies are now nearly equal in numbers,” said Washington, “and experience has so far shown that the British have had nothing to boast whenever they have come in conflict with an equal number of Americans.

“Very true,” responded Lee; “but let them evacuate if they will. The risk of a battle is too great to run. I would build a bridge of gold for them if they would retreat over it.”

Washington, Lafayette, Wayne, and Cadwalader were the only members of the council who favored an immediate attack. Without deciding the question, Washington requested each one to furnish his opinion in writing. Before this was done, however, the city was evacuated. On the eighteenth day of June the whole British army crossed the Delaware into New Jersey, eleven thousand strong, with an immense baggage and provision train, and marched for New York by way of New Brunswick and Amboy.

The American army was in pursuit as speedily as possible.

“We must compel an engagement,” said Washington, eager to give the foe a sound drubbing before it was too late.

“And we must do it as soon as possible,” answered Lafayette.

“There is no time to lose, neither,” said Greene.

General Lee was opposed to a general engagement.

They were near Monmouth Court-house, and it was the night of June 27.

General Lee had command of the advance, five thousand picked men, and his orders were, “Attack the enemy to-morrow.”

At midnight a horseman was galloping up to Washington’s headquarters, when the sentinel challenged him.

“Doctor Griffith, chaplain and surgeon in the Virginia line, on business highly important with the commander-in-chief.”

“Officer of the guard!” cried the sentinel. That officer appeared. Doctor Griffith repeated his errand.

“Impossible; my orders are positive,” replied the guard.

“But I must,” persisted the doctor.

“You cannot,” repeated the guard. “The commander-in-chief is intensely engaged.”

“Present, sir, my humble duty to his excellency, and say that Dr. Griffith waits upon him with secret and important intelligence, and craves an audience of only five minutes duration.”

He was soon ushered into Washington’s presence.

“The nature of the communication I am about to make to your excellency must be my apology for disturbing you at this hour of the night,” observed the doctor. “While I am not permitted to divulge the names of the authorities from which I have obtained my information, I can assure you they are of the very first order, whether in point of character or attachment to the cause of American independence. I have sought this interview to warn your excellency against the conduct of Major-General Lee in to-morrow’s battle. My duty is fulfilled, and I go now to pray to the God of battles for success to our arms, and that He may always have your excellency in His holy keeping.”

Doctor Griffith retired, and the battle of Monmouth was fought on the next day. Washington, with his aides, was approaching the scene of action, when he met a little fifer boy who archly observed:

“They are all coming this way, your honor.”

“Who are coming, my little man?” inquired General Knox.

“Why, our boys, your honor; our boys, and the British right after them,” answered the fifer.

“Impossible!” exclaimed Washington, and put spurs to his horse.

Sure enough, he soon met General Lee’s advance in full retreat.

“What is the meaning of all this, sir?” he called out to General Lee.

The latter was dumbfounded, and made no reply.

“I demand, sir, to know the reason of this retreat,” shouted Washington in a tone of anger.

By my own order, answered Lee, vexed by the commanders sharp address.

“Go to the rear, you cowardly poltroon!” shouted Washington, thoroughly aroused and indignant over the conduct of the officer.

At that juncture, his favorite aid, Lieutenant-Colonel Hamilton, leaped from his horse and, drawing his sword, addressed the general:

“We are betrayed! Your excellency and the army are betrayed! And the time has come when every true friend of America and her cause must be ready to die in their defence!”

Under the magic influence of the commander-in-chief the retreat was speedily arrested, and one of the most glorious victories of the Revolution achieved.

Washington was almost ubiquitous in his exertions, and his noble white charger galloped over the battlefield, utterly regardless of danger, until the splendid beast sank under the excessive heat, and died. Immediately the general mounted another war-horse of equal spirit, and, brandishing his sword high in the air, called to the troops:

“Stand fast, my boys, and receive your enemy! The Southern troops are advancing to support you!”

On the evening before, the officers drew up a memorial to Washington, entreating him not to expose himself in battle, as he did at Princeton, Trenton, and other places. Dr. Craik, who was present, remarked:

“It will not have the weight of a feather with him.” Then referring to the Indian chief’s prophecy on the banks of the Ohio, “The Great Spirit protects him; he cannot be shot in battle,” he added, “I believe it.”

In the bloody contest of the next day, a round shot from the British artillery ploughed the ground directly in front of the general, throwing up a cloud of dirt over his person.

“Dat wash very near!” exclaimed Baron Stuben. Dr. Craik and several of the officers who were together on the previous evening were witnesses. Pleased by this remarkable confirmation of his faith in the Indian’s prophecy, Dr. Craik smiled and, without uttering a word, pointed his finger towards heaven, as much as to say, “The Great Spirit protects him.”

At the close of the day the battle-ground was in possession of the Americans. Washington’s orders were to attack the foe again as soon as they began to move in the morning. But in the morning no enemy could be found; they had silently retreated during the night.

The Americans lost two hundred and twenty killed and wounded; and the British two hundred and fifty, and one hundred prisoners.

Major-General Lee was court-martialed for his conduct on the field of Monmouth, and was suspended from all command for one year. Many believed that he was an arch-traitor, who deserved a halter, although the evidence of it was not then conclusive. But eighty years thereafter (in 1858), papers were discovered in Lee’s handwriting, in which he communicated to Lord and Sir William Howe, while he was a prisoner in New York, a plan for subjugating the Colonies. The only explanation of his conduct, after the fall of Fort Washington, is found in his treasonable designs. He never returned to the service.

On the 13th of July Washington received news of the arrival of the French fleet, consisting of twelve ships of the line and six frigates, and four thousand men for a land force. Immediate consultation with the commander, Count DEstaing, led him to cross the Hudson and establish his army at White Plains.

Rhode Island was in the possession of the British, and Washington proposed to recover it by the united action of his army and the French fleet. After several weeks of rough campaigning, Washington was compelled to abandon his purpose, because the eccentric DEstaing resolved to take his fleet to Boston for rest and repairs.

For the winter of 1778-’79 he stationed his army in cantonments from Long Island Sound to the Delaware, while his own headquarters were near Middlebrook. This arrangement was designed to protect the country and watch the enemy.

The next year, 1779, the enemy carried on a predatory war, striking here and there with detachments of troops, plundering, burning, and ravaging the neighborhood. Washington was fully occupied in repulsing the enemy engaged in this sort of warfare.

As illustration of the cruel measures adopted by the British commander, an expedition was sent to Connecticut; they captured the fort at New Haven, destroyed all the vessels in the harbor, with all the artillery, ammunition, and stores, and plundered several private houses. They burned the town of Fairfield, destroying ninety-seven dwelling houses, sixty-seven barns and stables, forty-eight store-houses, three places of worship, two school-houses, a court-house, a jail, and all the vessels and public stores they could lay their hands on. Norwalk was also burned in the same ruthless manner; and the depredations extended into Massachusetts, injuring or destroying such towns as offered good harbors for privateers.

Exasperated by the reluctance of the Tories to flock to the British standard, and the numerous desertions of English and Germans from his army, King George sent his emissaries to instigate the savages of the Mohawk to plunder and butchery. The terrible massacres of Cherry Valley and Wyoming, in which hundreds of men, women, and children were remorselessly slaughtered, and their habitations committed to the flames, followed. The brutality of those scenes are known to the world, because they are matters of history.

Some of the ablest statesmen of England fearlessly denounced the king and his court for prosecuting a war with such barbarity. Lord Chatham declared:

“Were I an American as I am an Englishman, I would never lay down my arms: never, never, NEVER!”

The king and his court maintained, however, that they were justified in resorting to any measures to subdue American rebels.

Two remarkable expeditions which Washington organized that year were those which captured Stoney Point, under General Wayne; and Paulus Hook, under Major Henry Lee. These grand achievements inspirited the American army, and did much to convince the British that they were engaged in a fruitless attempt to reduce the Colonies to their domination.

As winter approached, the French fleet, which sailed from Boston to the West Indies, appeared off the Southern coast, to co-operate with General Lincoln, who commanded the Southern Department. On this account the British commander was compelled to operate in that direction.

Washington, whose headquarters had been at West Point for several months, went into winter quarters at Morristown, where the experience of Valley Forge was repeated with additional rigor.

The cruel treatment of Americans captured by the British had long engaged Washington’s attention, and reference to it here is in point. Many of their prisoners were confined in old ships, where they suffered all that hunger, thirst, filth, and abuse could inflict. On account of the dreadful sufferings endured by the prisoners, these ships were called “floating hells.

The “Jersey Prison Ship” and the old “Sugar House,” converted into prisons by Lord Howe, are notorious for their infamous character in American history. Congress appealed in vain to the commanding British general, and Washington wrote to him upon the subject again and again. In one letter Washington said:

“From the opinion I have ever been taught to entertain of your lordship’s humanity, I will not suppose that you are privy to proceedings of so cruel and unjustifiable a nature; and I hope that, upon making the proper inquiry, you will have the matter so regulated that the unhappy persons whose lot is captivity may not in the future have the miseries of cold, disease, and famine added to their other misfortunes.... I should not have said thus much, but my injured countrymen have long called upon me to endeavor to obtain a redress of their grievances, and I should think myself as culpable as those who inflict such severities upon them were I to continue silent.”

A Rev. Mr. Andros of Massachusetts was confined in the “Jersey Prison Ship.” After his escape and the close of the war, he published a small book detailing the sufferings of its occupants. One brief paragraph therefrom is all our space will permit.

“Her dark and filthy exterior corresponded with the death and despair reigning within. It is supposed that eleven thousand American seaman perished in her. None came to relieve their woes. Once or twice, by order of a stranger on the quarter-deck a bag of apples was hurled promiscuously into the midst of hundreds of prisoners, crowded as thick as they could stand, and life and limb were endangered in the struggle. The prisoners were secured between the decks by iron gratings; and when the ship was to be cleared of watch, an armed guard forced them up to the winches, amid a roar of exécrations and reproaches, the dim light adding to the horrors of the scene. Thousands died whose names have never been known, perishing when no eye could witness their fortitude, nor praise their devotion to their country.”

The brave Lingan, hero of Fort Washington, was confined in the “Jersey;” and it was amid the horrors around him that he exclaimed:

“Sweet, O my country, should be thy liberties, when they are purchased at this monstrous price!”

Custis relates that one day, when a coffin was brought in which proved too short for the dead comrade, and it was proposed to cut off his head in order to adapt the body to the receptacle, Lingan “sprang from his couch of pain, and, laying his hand upon the lifeless corpse of the departed soldier, swore he would destroy the first man who should thus mutilate the body of his friend.”