Chapter XIII: Part 13

While thus posted at Fort Edward, General Burgoyne received intelligence that large stores of live cattle, corn, and other necessaries belonging to the Americans, had been deposited at Bennington, a village situated about twenty miles from the Hudson, in Vermont. Impelled by necessity, as well as desirous of adding to his military fame, he resolved to attempt their seizure, the accomplishment of which plan, he entrusted to Colonel Baum, a German officer of great bravery, and well versed in this sort of partisan war.

Accordingly, with a force of five hundred men and two light field-pieces, Baum set forth, in proud anticipation of success. The roads, however, were so heavy, that the detachment was fatally retarded. The intelligence of their approach preceded them in time to allow Colonel Stark--a brave, active man, who was in command at Bennington, with a corps of New Hampshire militia--to assemble a considerable rëinforcement of Green-mountain Boys from the neighboring towns. Before Baum made his appearance, the number of Americans had swelled to about two thousand. On learning the numbers of the enemy, Baum dispatched an express to Colonel Breyman, who had been detached to support him if necessary, to urge his march. In the mean while, Baum took post on the banks of the Walloon creek, to await the arrival of his auxiliaries.

Stark, however, was not disposed to accommodate his foe by any such delay; but, taking up his line of march, on the morning of the 6th of August, advanced towards the place of Baum's encampment. Dividing his forces into several corps, he gave orders to attack the British on all sides at once. On their approach, Baum strangely mistaking them for loyalists coming to his aid, held still. Judge his surprise when they poured in from all sides a deadly fire upon him! Rallying his men in the best possible manner, for a time he made a brave resistance; but before the impetuous charge of the Americans, the English were obliged to yield.

The fortune of the day had already been decided, when Colonel Breyman appeared. He was, in fact, perfectly ignorant of the engagement, and the fate of his pioneers. What was his consternation, on reaching the intrenchments of Baum, to find, instead of friends ready to receive him, the place in possession of an enemy ready to give him battle! Perceiving his mistake, his troops, though greatly fatigued, were ordered to the combat; and bravely for a time they fought, and not without some prospect of success, a part of the Americans being employed in pillaging. But the momentary advantage which he seemed to have gained was soon lost; and, leaving all their baggage and one thousand muskets in the hands of the conquerors, they made a rapid retreat. The loss of the British in the two engagements, was about two hundred killed, and five hundred wounded and prisoners. The loss of the Americans did not much exceed one hundred.

The exploit of Bennington redounded not only to the credit of General Stark and his brave troops, but to the good of the country at large. It roused the drooping spirits of the Americans, it inspired the troops with confidence, and presented an earnest of still nobler conquests. In consequence of this defeat, the situation of General Burgoyne was still more perplexing. The hope of supplying his army with provisions from the stores of Bennington, was annihilated, and to other quarters he must look for supplies, without a considerable stock of which, it would be presumption to attempt offensive operations.

While these events were transpiring, congress appointed General Gates to take command of the Northern army, in place of General Schuyler. The latter was a soldier of great bravery, but was not universally acceptable to the troops, especially to those from Massachusetts and other provinces of New England. The former enjoyed a high military reputation, and his appointment was hailed by the army with joy. Gates made his appearance at Stillwater on the 21st of August, and took the command.

"Meanwhile," says Botta, "General Burgoyne continued in his camp, on the left bank of the Hudson, where he used the most unremitting industry and perseverance in bringing stores and provisions forward from Fort George. Having at length, by strenuous efforts, obtained about thirty days' provisions, he took a resolution of passing the river with his army, in order to engage the enemy, and force a passage to Albany. As a swell of water, occasioned by great rains, had carried away his bridge of rafts, he threw another, of boats, over the river at the same place. Towards the middle of September, he crossed with his army to the right bank of the Hudson, and encamped on the heights and in the plain of Saratoga, Gates being then in the neighborhood of Stillwater, about three miles below. The two armies of course faced each other, and a battle was expected soon to follow."

On the morning of the 19th, it was reported by Colonel Colburn, who was watching the enemy, that they were beginning to ascend the hill towards the American left. General Gates sent Colonel Morgan to oppose them, and the firing began about noon. The action extended, and, in three hours, was general, and continued without interruption till dark. The American troops engaged amounted to three thousand; the British to three thousand five hundred.

"For four hours," says General Wilkinson, "the battle fluctuated, like the waves of a stormy sea, with alternate advantage, without one moment's intermission. It was truly a gallant conflict, in which death, by its familiarity, lost its terrors, and certainly a drawn battle, as night alone terminated it." The British army kept possession of the field; but they had nothing of which to boast. Their loss was more than five hundred men, and, among others, Captain Jones, of the artillery, an officer of great merit; the loss of the Americans, in killed and wounded, was from three to four hundred; among the former, were Colonels Adams and Colburn.

From September 19th to October 7th, was devoted, by the English, to strengthening their fortifications. The army of Gates, in the mean while, was continually increasing, and, on a single occasion, was added to by the arrival of General Lincoln with two thousand men, well trained and disciplined, from the New England provinces. Attacks on the British pickets took place almost every night.

For some time, General Burgoyne had been daily and ardently waiting for news from General Howe, as to the cöoperation he intended. On the 20th of September, he received a letter from that general, informing him that, about the 20th of the month, he should attempt the reduction of Fort Montgomery, situated on the right bank of the Hudson, and near the Highlands.

The situation of Burgoyne was now becoming so critical, that he immediately despatched an express to General Howe, entreating him to hasten his attack on the fort, if there was any prospect of delay, as he was provided with necessaries for his army only to the 12th of October, at which time he would be obliged to move from his present position.

Near the 1st of October, General Burgoyne found it necessary to lessen the rations of his soldiers--a measure to which they cheerfully submitted. The 7th arrived, and no further tidings had reached him of the movements of General Howe.

In this situation, General Burgoyne resolved, as the last resort, to make a bold and, if possible, a decisive attack.

The battle occurred on the 7th, and a most severe and sanguinary contest it proved; we have space only for the results. The loss of the British, in killed, wounded, and prisoners, was about six hundred; that of the Americans, three hundred and nineteen. Of the British, Brigadier-general Frazer, a gallant officer, was mortally wounded, and Colonel Breyman killed. General Arnold, of the Americans, was badly wounded, in the same leg which had already been shattered under the walls of Quebec.

Many pieces of artillery, all the baggage of the Germans, and many warlike stores, fell into the hands of the republicans, who needed them greatly. They were impatient for the return of day, to renew the battle. But deplorable and perilous, beyond expression, was the situation of the British troops; they bore it, however, with admirable temper and firmness. It was evidently impossible to continue in their present position, without submitting to a certainty of destruction on the ensuing day. The Americans, invigorated and encouraged, would take advantage of the access they had already opened to themselves on the right, and of other untenable points, to carry every part of the camp, and completely surround the British army. Burgoyne, therefore, determined to operate a total change of ground. He executed this movement with admirable order, and without any loss. The artillery, the camp, and its appurtenances, were all removed, before morning, to the heights above the hospital. The British army, in this position, had the river in its rear, and its two wings displayed along the hills, upon the right bank. The English expected to be attacked the following day. But Gates would not expose to the risk of another battle, that victory of which he was already certain. He intended that time, famine, and necessity, should complete the work which his arms had so fortunately commenced. There were frequent skirmishes, however, occurring in the course of the day, but of little importance. Towards night, the obsequies of General Frazer were celebrated in the British camp; a ceremony mournful of itself, and rendered even terrible by the sense of recent losses, of future dangers, and of regret for the deceased. The darkness and silence of the night aided the effect of the blaze and roar of the American artillery; while, at every moment, the balls spattered the earth upon the face of the officiating chaplain.[49]

The situation of General Burgoyne, after the battle, was gloomy and critical in the extreme. The fortunes of war were obviously against him, and no safe alternative presented itself but in retreat. Orders were accordingly issued for the army to return to Saratoga, six miles up the river. "The retreat began at nine o'clock; but such was the badness of the roads, rendered still more difficult by a heavy rain, which fell that night, and such was the weakness of the teams, for want of forage, that the English did not reach Saratoga till the evening of the ensuing day; the soldiers were harassed with fatigue and hunger. The hospital, with three hundred sick and wounded, and a great number of wheel-carriages, were abandoned to the enemy. The English, as they retired, burned the houses, and destroyed whatever they could use no longer."

From the moment that General Gates learned the movements of the enemy, his plan was formed--to follow up his success by a vigorous pursuit, pushing the contest until they should surrender their arms as a conquered foe.

Accordingly, putting his army in motion, as early as was practicable, he followed. The only hope which now inspired Burgoyne was, that he might effect a passage to Fort Edward, and in that fastness sustain himself till succor could arrive from the south. But when the intelligence arrived, as it did at the moment of his deepest perplexity, that that fortress was in possession of the Americans, he saw he must relinquish all hope of saving himself by his own efforts.

The condition of the British army was indeed deplorable. "The troops, worn down by a series of hard toil, incessant effort, and stubborn action, abandoned by Indians and Canadians, the whole army reduced by repeated and heavy losses of many of their best men and most distinguished officers, from ten thousand combatants to less than five thousand fighting men, of whom little more than three thousand were English. In these circumstances, and in this state of weakness, without a possibility of retreat, they were invested by an army of four times their own number, whose position extended three parts in four of a circle round them--who refused to fight from a knowledge of their own condition--and who, from the nature of the ground, could not be attacked in any part. In this helpless situation, obliged to be constantly on their arms, while a continued cannonade pervaded all the camp, and even rifle and grape-shot fell in every part of their lines, the troops of Burgoyne retained their ordinary constancy, and, while sinking under a hard necessity, they showed themselves worthy of a better fate. Nor could they be reproached with any action or word, which betrayed a want of temper or fortitude.

"At length, no succor appearing, and no rational ground of hope of any kind remaining, an exact account of the provisions was taken on the morning of the thirteenth, when it was found that the whole stock would afford no more than three days' bare subsistence for the army. In such a state, it was alike impossible to advance or to remain as they were; and the longer they delayed to take a definite resolution, the more desperate became their situation. Burgoyne, therefore, immediately called a council of war, at which not only the generals and field-officers, but all the captains of companies were invited to assist. While they deliberated, the bullets of the Americans whistled around them, and frequently pierced even the tent, where the council was convened. It was determined, unanimously, to open a treaty, and enter into a convention with the American general."

On the night of the 15th, the articles of capitulation were settled. The morning of the 17th was appointed as the time on which they were to be signed.

That night (15th) intelligence, by a special messenger, reached the English camp, that General Clinton had reduced Fort Montgomery, and was then rapidly marching to their relief. This added to the suffering of the conquered Burgoyne. Forthwith, he summoned a council of war, and to his discredit--the only apology for which is to be found in the deep mortification felt by a proud and ambitious soldier to surrender--proposed to retreat, and once more try the fortunes of combat, in the hope that Clinton might arrive in season to their relief. But his officers, with stricter notions of propriety, were of the opinion that, as their faith had been pledged, the honor of the English character required a fulfillment of the articles of capitulation.

Meanwhile, Gates, apprised of the nature of the intelligence received, calmly waited for the arrival of the 17th, on the morning of which he proceeded to form his troops in the order of battle; which done, he dispatched a messenger to General Burgoyne, to inform him that the appointed hour had arrived, and he must either sign the articles, or prepare himself for battle.

Deeply as the latter regretted submission, he was fully sensible that circumstances demanded it, and therefore proceeded to sign the articles, which, in substance, were as follows:

"That the army should march out of the camp with all the honors of war and its camp artillery, to a fixed place, where they were to deposit their arms and leave the artillery; to be allowed a free embarkation and passage to Europe, from Boston, upon condition of their not serving again in America during the present war; the army not to be separated, particularly the men from the officers; roll-calling, and other duties of regularity, to be permitted; the officers to be admitted on parole, and to wear their sidearms; all private property to be retained, and the public delivered upon honor; no baggage to be searched or molested; all persons, of whatever country, appertaining to, or following the camp, to be fully comprehended in the terms of capitulation, and the Canadians to be returned to their own country, liable to its conditions."

On the day on which the capitulation took place, the American army numbered nearly fifteen thousand men, ten thousand of whom were regular troops; the English troops amounted to five thousand seven hundred and ninety-one, of whom two thousand four hundred and twelve were Germans, and three thousand three hundred and seventy-nine were English.

The munitions of war, which by the capitulation came into possession of the Americans, were, besides being numerically great, exceedingly valuable. They consisted of a fine train of brass artillery, amounting to forty-two pieces, of different sorts and sizes, four thousand six hundred muskets, and an immense quantity of bombs, balls, and other implements of war.

Such was the result of this expedition of the British, on the banks of the Hudson. To the English, it was most unexpected and disastrous; to the Americans, joyous and fortunate. It had been planned with ability, and had General Howe fulfilled the part expected of him, the result might have been reversed. But his failure to cöoperate, as contemplated in the plan, left General Burgoyne but little chance of success.

The victory won, General Gates forthwith dispatched Colonel Wilkinson to convey the happy tidings to congress. On entering the hall of session, he approached the speaker, and said: "The whole British army has laid down arms at Saratoga; our own, full of vigor and courage, expect your orders; it is for your wisdom to decide where the country may still have need of their services."

"To General Gates and his army, congress, by resolution, expressed their thanks. To the former, in addition, they voted a gold medal, in commemoration of the proud achievement. On one side of it, was the bust of the general, with these words around: _Horatio Gates, Duci strenuo_; and in the middle, _Comita Americana_. On the reverse, Burgoyne was represented in the attitude of delivering his sword; and, in the back ground, on the one side and on the other, were seen the two armies of England and America. At the top were these words: _Salum regionum septentrion_; and at the foot, _Hoste ad Saratogam in deditione accepto_. Die XVII. Oct. MDCCLXXVII. It would be difficult to describe the transports of joy which the news of this event excited among the Americans. They began to flatter themselves with a still more happy future; no one any longer entertained a doubt of independence. All hoped, and not without reason, that a success of this kind would at length determine France, and the other European powers that waited for her example, to declare themselves in favor of America."

To the American people at large, the news of the victory conveyed the most heartfelt joy. The cloud, which had long rested upon their hopes, seemed to be breaking away, and to presage the dawn of a day for which for years they had prayed and struggled; but which, with all their efforts, hopes, and prayers, had, until now, appeared distant and doubtful.

FOOTNOTES:

[48] Botta.

[49] General Frazer was wounded about four o'clock in the afternoon, and died the following morning at eight. At six in the evening he was buried--all the generals attending his funeral, and marching to an eminence where his remains were deposited. The Americans, entirely ignorant of the nature of the collection, directed their artillery towards the British. Fortunately, no lives were lost, and no one was wounded. General Gates, on learning the object of the assemblage, expressed his deep regret at the firing.

XI. PROGRESS OF THE WAR.

STATE of affairs in England--Treaty with France--Movements in the
British Parliament--Overtures to Congress--Rejection of
them--Battle of Monmouth--Disastrous Retreat of General
Lee--Fortunate interposition of Washington--His rebuke of
Lee--Tremendous Battle--Sufferings of the Armies--Renewal of
the Contest--Midnight Retreat of the British army--Subsequent
Trial and Dismission of General Lee.

1. STATE OF AFFAIRS IN ENGLAND.

The effect produced by the surrender of General Burgoyne, upon the British cabinet and the nation at large, was as grievous and depressing, as it had been joyous and animating to congress and the American people. The most brilliant success had been anticipated by the former; the most ignominious result had occurred. The pride of the nation was humbled, and those who had disapproved of the war, were now loud in their censures of ministers.

Already had the war cost England twenty thousand men and thirty millions of money. But more of both were now needed. Reluctant to ask parliament for a fresh levy, the ministers, during the recess of that body, near the beginning of the year 1778, dispatched agents into the different provinces of the kingdom, to spur the inhabitants to enlist, and to furnish voluntary contributions to carry on the war.

The success of this plan was only partial--far less than anticipated, or the exigencies of the case required. The citizens of Liverpool and Manchester, however, responded to the call, and agreed to raise and equip a regiment of one thousand each. Edinburgh and Glasgow followed their example. London, as a city, peremptorily refused to raise troops--but the friends of the government raised the sum of twenty thousand pounds.

2. TREATY WITH FRANCE.

Not long after the declaration of independence, commissioners were authorized to bring the subject of a recognition before the court of Versailles, and to urge the measure by such considerations as existed in the case. This they had done, and continued to do, so long as any prospect of success existed. At length, despairing of obtaining their object, they were about to abandon further effort, when the joyful intimation was communicated to Dr. Franklin, that a treaty, involving the desired recognition, had been determined upon by the king and his ministers. On the 6th of February, 1778, this measure, most auspicious to American interests, was concluded at Paris. It was signed on behalf of the king by M. Gerard; and for the United States by Benjamin Franklin, Silas Deane, and Arthur Lee. The treaty stipulated--a thing until then unheard of on the part of a king--that the essential and express object of the alliance was to maintain effectually the _liberty_, _sovereignty_, and _independence of the United States_.

On the 21st of March, the American commissioners were with great pomp and ceremony, introduced by Count de Vergennes before the throne, whereon was seated the king, Louis XVI., in the midst of the grandees of his court. The honor was one which was conferred only when the king gave audience to the ambassadors of sovereigns and independent states.

On the 2d of May, the French frigate _La Sensible_, having on board the important treaty, reached the American shores. Congress was forthwith convened, and the treaty was ratified. The most heartfelt joy pervaded the country. The army, drawn up in the order of battle, received the intelligence with exultation not to be described.

3. MOVEMENTS IN THE BRITISH PARLIAMENT.

Before the treaty between France and the United States was made public, the British ministry had knowledge of its existence. Justly alarmed, they felt the necessity of adopting some measures by which to bring the war to a close, without a collision with France. What those measures should be, was a question on which a diversity of opinion existed in the cabinet. It is asserted, that some of the members, in secret session, proposed at once to acknowledge the independence of the United States, and to conclude a treaty with them. But on the 19th of February, Lord North introduced a resolution into parliament, admitting that the parliament could not in future impose any tax or duty on the colonies of North America, except such only as should be deemed beneficial to commerce, and the product even of those to be collected under the authority of the respective colonies, and to be employed for their use and advantage. He proposed, besides, that five commissioners should be appointed, empowered to adjust with any assembly or individual whatsoever, the differences existing between Great Britain and her colonies; it being understood, however, that the compacts were not to take effect till ratified by the parliament.

To the surprise and indignation of the friends of the war, the bill passed; and, shortly after, the king appointed for commissioners the Earl of Carlisle, William Eden, George Johnstone, and the commander-in-chief of the English army in America. The three first sailed from St. Helena for America on the 21st, on board the ship Trident.

In the beginning of June, the commissioners arrived, and on the 9th, repaired to Philadelphia. Soon after, they made a communication to congress, explanatory of their object, and requested the privilege of opening a conference with that body, or with some of its members, either at New York, or some other place which congress should please to appoint.

The serious consideration of congress was given to the overture, and on the 17th of June, their answer was returned. In substance it was, that they would be ready to enter upon the consideration of peace and commerce, not inconsistent with treaties already subsisting, when the king of Great Britain should demonstrate a sincere disposition for that purpose; of which no other proof could be admitted but that of an explicit acknowledgment of the independence of the United States, or the withdrawal of his fleets and armies.

Thus terminated the negotiation. America, steady to her purpose, would not listen to any proposal which did not involve the recognition of her independence. Great Britain was yet too proud to accede to such terms, and consequently, the idea of accommodation was abandoned, and the most vigorous measures were adopted to wage war against her ancient ally and her disobedient child, whose fortunes had now become linked together.

It may be added in this place, that, subsequent to the failure of the commissioners in effecting the object of their mission, commenced a system of intrigue with several distinguished persons, and especially with members of congress, to whom one at least addressed confidential letters, with the hope of winning them to the royal cause. Some of these letters and propositions at length were made public. General Reed, a member of congress, stated that a proposition had been made to him by Johnstone, through a _lady_, that if he would promote the rëunion of the two countries, he should have any office in the colonies which he might name. His reply was worthy of a Christian and a patriot: "_I am not worth purchasing; but such as I am, the king of Great Britain is not rich enough to do it_."

4. BATTLE OF MONMOUTH.

During the winter of 1777-8, the British army had occupied Philadelphia; the winter-quarters of the American army were at Valley Forge. On the opening of the spring, in consequence of the alliance of France and America, orders were issued to the British general to evacuate Philadelphia, and concentrate the royal force in the city and harbor of New York. In pursuance of this resolution, the royal army, now under command of Sir Henry Clinton--General Howe having returned to England--left Philadelphia, and on the 18th of June, passed the Delaware into New Jersey.

Washington immediately quitted his camp, and hung upon the British army, watching a favorable opportunity to offer battle. On the 27th, the British army encamped on some high grounds in the neighborhood of Freehold court-house, in the county of Monmouth.

On the morning of the 28th, General Lee was ordered to take command of five thousand men, and commence the attack.

At first, he declined the honor; but judging, on reflection, that such a procedure would redound to his discredit, he now sought the command at the hands of Lafayette, to whom, on his declining it, it had been tendered.

Lee immediately put his troops in motion for the plain of Monmouth, some four or five miles distant. On approaching it, the British were already in motion. The army was in advance of the baggage-train, which covered miles in extent. The morning was clear, and the sun poured down his heat so fervidly, as seemingly to cause all nature to faint. Before noon, the mercury of the thermometer reached ninety-six. Man and beast panted for breath. The sand-plain became parched as an oven, and water was needed at almost every step. The sufferings of men and horses early became nearly insupportable.

Moreover, it was the _Sabbath_--that day when the hum of life is ordinarily hushed, and when men are commonly with their families in the house of God. We may pause, we trust, to say, that that Sabbath, and the God of that Sabbath, would have been more honored--nor do we believe that the patriot cause would have suffered in the sequel--had Washington, instead of sending out a hostile corps--had he and his troops spent it in paying divine honors to the God of our fathers. It had been still better, could hostile armies have that day grounded their arms, and of that plain made a sanctuary, and there, in the exercise of that friendship and love which the gospel enjoins, worshiped together at a common altar, and before a common Father. But the latter was not to be expected--perhaps, not the former. Other thoughts were occupying those bosoms, and a far different spectacle was that day to be witnessed. Let us not judge severely. We will hope that the honor of God did animate those sons of the Pilgrims. We know that they were true patriots, and that they were fighting for their altars and their firesides. Nor is it to be doubted that they would have preferred the calm and delightful worship of God, with their families, in the sanctuaries of their own quiet villages. But they were summoned to the field of battle, and here, now, we find them soon employed amid scenes of carnage and death.

Wayne was that day in command under Lee. On seeing the British train--horses and waggons, miles in extent--following the army in advance, the former, with his detachment, hastened rapidly forward, with the intent to cut off and capture the train. Meanwhile, Lee, with the rest of his division, took a more circuitous route, designing to attack the corps which had the train in charge. Most unexpectedly, however, just as he was ready to commence the charge, intelligence was received that the entire British army--which was on the retreat, but which had had intimation of Lee's advance--had wheeled about, and were in full march to protect its rear.

Lee had reluctantly taken the command; he was in ill-humor, and, moreover, was probably now appalled at the prospect before him. At all adventures, greatly to his discredit, for as yet he had not commenced action, he ordered a retreat. This movement fell upon Wayne like a thunderbolt, who was himself compelled, by reason of it, to fall back, at the hazard of his entire command.

Washington was still at a distance with the remainder of the army; but was rapidly approaching the theatre of the contest. The distant cannonade impelled him forward. The troops, partaking of his own enthusiasm, if not of his anxiety, laid aside knapsacks--coats--all that encumbered, and amidst dust and heat pressed on to the encounter. At this moment, a horseman was seen approaching from the immediate battle-field. He pressed his horse, and made announcement to Washington that Lee's division, in utter disorder, was in full retreat. For a moment, the latter seemed petrified with astonishment; and the next moment--for it seems he had for some reason dismounted--vaulting upon his saddle, he sprang forward, and like a winged arrow directed his way to the scene of confusion and flight. The instant he was seen by the troops in retreat, "The brave fellows"--we use the stirring language of Headley--"the brave fellows, who had not been half beaten, sent up a shout that was heard the whole length of the line, and '_Long live Washington!_' rent the air. Flinging a hasty inquiry to Osgood, as to the reason, who replied, '_Sir, we are fleeing from a shadow;_' he galloped to the rear, and, reining up his horse beside Lee, bent on him a face of fearful expression, and thundered in his ear, as he leaned over his saddle-bow, '_Sir, I desire to know what is the reason, and whence arises this disorder and confusion!_' It was not the words, but the smothered tone of passion in which they were uttered, and the manner, which was severe as a blow, that made this rebuke so terrible. Wheeling his steed, he spurred up to Oswald's and Stewart's regiments, saying, 'On you I depend to check this pursuit;' and riding along the ranks, he roused their courage to the highest pitch by his stirring appeals; while that glorious shout of '_Long live Washington!_' again shook the field. The sudden gust of passion had swept by; but the storm that ever slumbered in his bosom was now fairly up; and, galloping about on his splendid charger, his tall and commanding form towering above all about him, and his countenance lit up with enthusiasm, he was the impersonation of all that is great and heroic in man. In a moment, the aspect of the field was changed--the retreating mass halted--officers were seen hurrying about in every direction, their shouts and orders ringing above the roar of the enemy's guns. The ranks opened--and, under the galling fire of the British, wheeled, and formed in splendid order. Washington then rode back to Lee, and, pointing to the firm front he had arrayed against the enemy, exclaimed, 'Will you, sir, command in that place?' He replied, 'Yes.'--'Well,' then said he, 'I expect you to check the enemy immediately.' 'Your orders shall be obeyed,' replied the stung commander, 'and I will not be the first to leave the field.' The battle then opened with renewed fury, and Washington hurried back, to bring his own division into the field."

This took time, as the division was still at a distance. Meanwhile, however, the retreat was partially staid. The troops once more rallied. They stood--they fought--fought with unwonted desperation. But the overpowering legions of the enemy pressed hard. Their shouts were deafening--their cannonade appalling and destructive. Lee now attempted to his utmost power to withstand the impetuous shock--but it was entirely beyond the compass of his troops. They were again giving way. A few moments longer, and all would be lost. At this critical juncture, Hamilton appeared, seemingly sent as a messenger from above--crossing the field--his charger covered with foam, and his hair streaming in the wind--Hamilton appeared, and riding up to Lee, said to him: "_My dear general, let us die here rather than retreat._"

What would have been the effect of this soul-stirring and patriotic address of Hamilton, had no succor been at hand, we pretend not to say. They were words of comfort and assurance; and, if necessary to prevent a dishonorable retreat, there doubtless Hamilton, and perhaps now Lee himself, would have surrendered up life. But succor was at hand. Washington with his division had arrived. No time was lost. He issued his orders, and they were obeyed. Sterling, Knox, Wayne, brought up their several commands, and soon the battle was raging, and the whole plains shook under the clangor of arms and the thunder of artillery. For a time, few such spectacles were seen during the Revolutionary war. The heat of the day, we have already said, was intense. Water was not to be had, or rather there was no time to quench parched lips, had there been any. Their thirst added to the sufferings of the troops immeasurably. The tongues of the soldiers became so inflamed and swollen, as not to be retained in their mouths. Yet they fought, and fought with a desperation increased by the very sufferings they endured. The British suffered from the same causes, and fought with the same desperation. And for a time, it was indeed doubtful whose cause would triumph. But the batteries of Knox and Sterling, like volcanoes, hurled death and destruction on every side; while the impetuous Wayne with his columns, torrent-like, spread confusion and dismay in every step of their progress. There was a concentration of effort--and that effort, doubtless the more earnest and effective, for the reason of the previous unwarranted and pusillanimous retreat.

In turn, the British themselves now retreated, and encamped on the spot which Lee's division had occupied in the morning. They had fought with unwonted zeal. Officers and soldiers were exhausted. They coveted rest. They needed repose. It was so with the Americans. "Even Washington's powerful frame was overcome by the heat and toil he had passed through; and as he stood begrimed with the dust and the smoke of the battle, and wiped his brow, the perspiration fell in streams from his horse, which looked as if it had been dragged through a muddy stream, rather than rode by a living man."

Yet, wearied as he was--wearied and worn down as were his officers and men--Washington could not consent so to terminate the day. A further duty remained ere he slept. That duty was to dislodge the enemy from the position which he had taken. His officers--his army sympathized with him; they were willing to put forth one more effort to secure all that they had promised themselves, and which in the morning had seemed so practicable.

Two brigades were therefore ordered to attack the British at their post--on the right and left. The battle was now renewed, and renewed with all the spirit and determination of an earlier hour. It continued, however, but for a brief period. The sun was fast descending when the second battle began, and had set ere the several corps had really attained their proposed positions. It was fortunate, probably, that the contest was interrupted. Both armies had done enough. Had Washington succeeded in dislodging the enemy, his troops were too much spent to have followed up the victory.

There they now paused. Darkness soon set in. Too much overcome even to administer to the wants of nature, the troops of both armies flung themselves upon the parched ground, and slept. They slept in sight of each other, and they slept strong and deep. With the morning light, Washington had decided to renew the battle. He, therefore, instead of retiring to his marquee, wrapped himself in his cloak, and sunk upon the earth in the midst of his soldiers.

At the dawn of morning, Washington rose, and with his recruited followers was about to follow up the advantages of the preceding day. But the enemy had retired. Aware of the peril of his condition, the British commander had roused his army at midnight, and ordered a retreat. And so silently was that retreat effected, and so soundly had the American army slept, officers and men, that no one of the thousands which composed it, had any suspicion of the retreat, till the light of day revealed it. Washington was indeed disappointed; but the departure of the enemy, if it was not in all respects equal to a victory, gave practical assurance that Washington had suffered no defeat.

There were doubtless other engagements during the Revolutionary struggle more brilliant, and of greater influence, as to the final result, than the battle of Monmouth. But it is doubtful whether there was a single other one in which there was a higher exhibition of firmness, or the practice of greater self-denial, or the endurance of greater suffering.

Never did commander appear more nobly than did Washington. But for his presence at the critical moment--his quick perception of the danger, and the means of averting it--his celerity in issuing his orders--his manly but terrific rebuke of Lee--and perhaps more than all, his undaunted bravery, and his firm stand when all were flying from a pursuing foe--all would indeed have been lost.

For twelve long hours were the respective armies that day engaged. They numbered about twenty thousand men. They were on a plain where little or no water could be obtained, and with a thermometer standing the whole day at nearly one hundred degrees. Not a few died from sun-stroke--and still more from excessive fatigue. The cry for "_water! water!_" from the wounded and the dying, was sufficient to overcome the stoutest heart.

It is not necessary to dwell longer on the particulars of this remarkable battle. The British troops, as already intimated, left Washington in occupation of the field. On the following day, finding his foe gone, he took up his line of march, and by easy stages moved towards the Hudson.

It does not belong to the plan of our work to pursue the history of the difficulty which that day arose between Washington and Lee, growing out of the retreat of the latter. That retreat was most unexpected, dishonorable, and needless. So Washington evidently deemed it, and this was the occasion of his severe rebuke of that officer in the field. It has been said that Washington was profane. That he was greatly excited, calm as he usually was, admits of no question. That he was profane, is without proof. Weems says, as quoted by Headley, that as he rode up, he exclaimed, "For God's sake! General Lee, what is the cause of this ill-timed prudence?"--to which the latter replied, "No man can boast a larger share of that rascally virtue than your excellency." What reliance, if any, is to be placed upon the above authority, the writer pretends not to say. To an inquiry once made of Lafayette, at La Grange, by Dr. Sparks, what the precise expression of Washington was, he replied, that although near him at the moment, he could not have told an hour subsequently. He thought, however, that it was not so much the expression itself, as the manner in which it was uttered, that stung the retreating general. That manner was terrible. The wrath of Washington was without disguise.

But the results of the day served to meliorate the feelings of Washington towards Lee, whatever opinion he might have continued to entertain of his unworthy conduct. It is said that he rëinstated him in his old command; and had Lee reciprocated the feelings and kindness of Washington, the unpleasant occurrence might have passed, and have been forgotten. But Lee was hot-tempered; and, under the smart of rebuke, addressed a most ill-judged and "saucy" letter to Washington, in which he demanded a trial by court-martial. Washington, in his reply, accused Lee of a breach of orders, in not attacking the enemy; and a breach of good behavior, unbecoming an officer of his rank, in so hasty and cowardly a retreat. Lee rejoined, and in a manner entirely in accordance with his previous communication. "You cannot," he wrote, "afford me greater pleasure, sir, than in giving me an opportunity of showing to America the efficiency of her respective servants. I trust that the temporary power of office, and the trivial dignity attending it, will not be able, by all the mists they can raise, to effusate the bright rays of truth. In the mean time, your excellency can have no objection to my retiring from the army."

In whatever light Lee's previous conduct deserved to be regarded, no doubt could exist as to the intended insult of Washington conveyed in the above letter. Suffice it to say, that he was put under immediate arrest; and in August was tried before a court-martial on three separate charges, viz: "for disobeying orders, in not attacking the enemy;" "for making an unnecessary and disorderly retreat;" and "for disrespect to the commander-in-chief, in two letters."

Of these charges, with a slight modification of one of them, he was found guilty, and suspended from the army for twelve months. The decision was most unexpected and distasteful, as might be supposed, to a man of Lee's ardent and self-complacential feelings. Washington he never forgave. Stung by the decision of the court-martial, against that body--against congress itself--he launched his bitter invectives. At the expiration of his suspension, and while congress was contemplating his restoration, he addressed an insulting letter to that body, which hastened his dismission. We add, only, that he retired to Virginia, where on a farm he passed the residue of his days.

XII. TREACHERY OF ARNOLD.

THE Vulture in the Hudson--Midnight Adventure--Benedict
Arnold--Repairs to Cambridge--Expedition to Canada--Created a
Brigadier-general--Grounds of Complaint--Honorable Conduct in
Connecticut--Appointed to the command at Philadelphia--Charges
preferred against him--Reprimanded by Washington--Plots against
his Country--Correspondence with Sir H. Clinton--Appointed to
the command of West Point--Interview with Andre--Capture of
Andre--Arrival of Washington--Escape of Arnold--Developments of
Arnold's traitorous intentions--Trial and Condemnation of
Andre--Subsequent incidents in the life of Arnold.

On the night of the 21st of September, 1780, there was lying at anchor on the Hudson, a few miles below West Point, a British sloop-of-war, called the _Vulture_. A little before midnight, a boat, with muffled oars, and rowed by two men, put off from the American shore, and proceeded with great caution towards the sloop. In the stern of the boat sat a third man, of more consequence than the oarsmen, and the leader of the secret expedition. It was a tranquil night; the stars peered out with unwonted lustre, and the waters moved slowly down the channel. What object was proposed by this cautious midnight adventure? Was intelligence sought from the enemy, or was it to be imparted to them? Was it a patriotic or a traitorous expedition?--The sequel will tell.

Among the brave and chivalrous men who early engaged in the defence of American rights, was _Benedict Arnold_. On the occurrence of the battle of Lexington, he was residing at New Haven, and was commandant of a company of militia, called the Governor's Guards.

On the arrival of the news of the above battle at New Haven, citizens and soldiers, as if moved by a common impulse, assembled on the green. Fired with indignation, as were others, Arnold proposed to head such as would volunteer under him, and lead them to the more immediate scene of action.

Such was the dispatch of preparation, that the following day, at the head of sixty volunteers, he was ready to march.

After reaching Cambridge, for a time Arnold was employed in an expedition against Ticonderoga. About the time of his return, congress was contemplating a still more important and hazardous movement against Canada, under General Schuyler. Believing that essential aid might be rendered by the way of the Kennebec river, a detachment of troops was made at Cambridge, the command of which was tendered to Arnold.

The troops detached for this service amounted to eleven hundred men--ten companies of musket-men from New England, and three companies of rifle-men from Virginia and Pennsylvania. The field officers were Colonel Arnold, Lieutenant-colonels Greene and Enos, and Majors Bigelow and Meigs. The afterwards-celebrated Daniel Morgan commanded the riflemen. On the 18th of September, the troops sailed from Newburyport, and rendezvoused at Fort Western, on the Kennebec, opposite the present town of Augusta.

From this point they started, and their hardships and trials began. No body of troops during the Revolutionary war, if indeed in the annals of warfare, encountered greater obstacles, or endured more suffering, than this. The distance traversed was about two hundred miles, and nearly the whole of it was a howling wilderness.

On the night of the 14th, Arnold with his men crossed the St. Lawrence; and, ascending the same abrupt precipice which Wolfe had climbed before him, formed his small corps on the heights, near the memorable Plains of Abraham. But he soon discovered that neither the number nor condition of his men would justify him in hazarding an action. Having spent a few days on the heights, and summoned the town to surrender, without even a response, he retired twenty miles above Quebec, to wait the arrival of the troops which were to proceed by the western route, which were now led by General Montgomery, who had succeeded General Schuyler, in consequence of the illness of the latter.

On the 1st of December, Montgomery joined Arnold; and on the morning of the 31st occurred the memorable assault upon Quebec, in which the gallant and lamented Montgomery fell. Arnold, not less bold and intrepid, had his leg-bone severely fractured, and was obliged to be carried from the ground. The issue was disastrous to the Americans, as is well known; about sixty being killed, and between three and four hundred taken prisoners. Notwithstanding his wound and the serious diminution of his force, Arnold maintained a blockade of the city during a long and severe Canadian winter.

As a reward for his persevering efforts in conducting his troops through the wilderness, and for his gallant conduct in the assault of Quebec, congress promoted Arnold to the rank of brigadier-general.

In February, 1777, congress appointed five additional major-generals. According to the usual practice in reference to promotions, Arnold would have been entitled to this honor; but those thus promoted were all his juniors, and one of them, General Lincoln, was taken from the militia. To a man like Arnold, ambitious of military glory, such a neglect could not be otherwise than deeply wounding. In anticipation of his mortified feelings, Washington addressed a kind and soothing letter to him, virtually expressing his disapproval of the course of procedure, and advising Arnold to demean himself with the magnanimity of a soldier, in the hope that justice would still be done him, and others, who were similarly neglected.

Meanwhile, Washington addressed to friends in congress a letter of inquiry on the subject. To this it was replied, that as each state claimed a number of general officers, proportioned to the troops it furnished, and as Connecticut already had two, there existed no vacancy for another. There was at least plausibility in the reason, but it seems not to have satisfied Washington; much less could it be expected to satisfy so sensitive and ambitious a man as Arnold. This disappointment was probably among the causes which soured the mind of the latter, and laid the foundation of those corrodings of the heart, which in after-times led to the utter ruin of his reputation, and came near effecting the ruin of his country.

But this was by no means the only ground of Arnold's complaint. Construing the neglect of congress as an implied censure of his military conduct in past times--and perhaps the inference was not entirely without foundation--Arnold resolved to demand of congress an examination into his conduct. With this object in view, he proceeded to head-quarters, to solicit of Washington permission to proceed to Philadelphia.

Just at the time he was passing through Connecticut, a British force, consisting of two thousand troops, under the infamous General Tryon, had landed at Compo, between Fairfield and Norwalk, for the purpose of penetrating to Danbury, to destroy some public stores, which the Americans had lodged there.

Arnold heard of this invasion; and, for the time, honorably foregoing the object of his journey, and roused by that high military spirit which in no small degree characterized him, he immediately turned his course northward, for the purpose of aiding in repelling the foe.

A militia force of five hundred had been hastily collected by Generals Wooster and Silliman. These, together with about one hundred continental troops, Arnold overtook near Reading, on their march towards Danbury. At Bethel, information was obtained that the town had been fired, and the public stores destroyed. The next morning, the generals divided their forces--General Wooster, with two hundred men, falling in the rear of the enemy, while Arnold and Silliman, with five hundred (their original force having been augmented), by a rapid movement, took post in their front at Ridgefield.

About eleven o'clock, General Wooster overtook the enemy, and attacked them with great gallantry. Riding to the front of his troops, with a design of inspiring them with appropriate courage, he cried: "Come on, my boys! never mind such random shot." But scarcely had he uttered the words, when a fatal ball pierced his side, and this gallant general fell.

Meanwhile, Arnold having reached the north part of the long street at Ridgefield, barricaded the road with carts, logs, hay, and earth, presenting a formidable obstruction to the approaching enemy, and no mean protection to the resisting force.

"At three o'clock the enemy appeared, marching in a solid column, and they commenced a heavy fire as they advanced towards the breastwork: it was briskly returned. For nearly a quarter of an hour, the action was warm, and the Americans maintained their ground, by the aid of their barricade, against four times their number, until the British column began to extend itself, and to stretch around their flanks. This was a signal for retreat. Arnold was the last man that remained behind. While alone in this situation, a platoon of British troops, who had clambered up the rocks on the left flank, discharged their muskets at him. His horse dropped lifeless; and when it was perceived that the rider did not fall, one of the soldiers rushed forward with a fixed bayonet, intending to run him through. Arnold sat unmoved on his struggling horse, watched the soldier's approach till he was near enough to make sure his aim, then drew a pistol from his holsters, and shot him dead. Seizing this critical opportunity, he sprang upon his feet, and escaped unharmed. So remarkable an exhibition of cool and steady courage, in a moment of extreme danger, has rarely been witnessed.

"He rallied his men, and continued to annoy the enemy in their progress. Being rëinforced the next day, he hung upon their flanks and rear throughout the whole march to their ships, attacking them at every assailable point. In a skirmish near Compo, just before the British embarked, the horse which he rode was shot through the neck, and on all occasions he exposed himself with his accustomed intrepidity."