CHAPTER XII.Concluding Scenes.
Embarrassments of the Confederacy—Assaults upon Washington—Philadelphia evacuated—Lee’s Retreat—England enlists Savages—Lord Chatham—British Ravages—Capture of Stony Point—Efforts of Sir Henry Clinton—Treason of Arnold—Major Andrè—British at Mount Vernon—Cornwallis at Yorktown—Excitement in Philadelphia—News of the Treaty of Peace—Washington’s Farewell—Resigns his Commission—Chosen President—Views of Slavery—Sickness and Death.
Embarrassments of the Confederacy—Assaults upon Washington—Philadelphia evacuated—Lee’s Retreat—England enlists Savages—Lord Chatham—British Ravages—Capture of Stony Point—Efforts of Sir Henry Clinton—Treason of Arnold—Major Andrè—British at Mount Vernon—Cornwallis at Yorktown—Excitement in Philadelphia—News of the Treaty of Peace—Washington’s Farewell—Resigns his Commission—Chosen President—Views of Slavery—Sickness and Death.
The dreary winter passed slowly away, while Washington was making vigorous preparations for opening the campaign in the spring. Immense embarrassments arose from the fact that Congress did not represent anation, but merely aconfederacyof independent states. Each state decided the pay it would offer the troops, and claimed the right to retain them at home or to send them abroad at its pleasure. These difficulties subsequently led the United States to organize themselves into anation.
No man can be in power without being denounced. Washington was assailed most cruelly. He wrote to the President of Congress:
“My enemies know I cannot combat their insinuationshowever injurious, without disclosing secrets it is of the utmost moment to conceal. But why should I expect to be exempt from censure, the unfailing lot of an elevated station? Merit and talent which I cannot pretend to rival, have ever been subject to it.”
In these dark hours France generously came to the aid of the patriots, struggling for freedom in America against such desperate odds. The tidings of the French Alliance awoke new emotions of joy in the weary hearts at Valley Forge. The British army in Philadelphia amounted to not less than thirty thousand men. They were greatly alarmed. The danger was imminent that a French fleet might appear in the Delaware and cut off their retreat by water, while the American farmers, thus encouraged, would riseen masseand prevent their escape by land. This doubtless would have been their doom but for a succession of storms which delayed the French fleet.
With precipitation, the British evacuated Philadelphia. Their heavy material of war was shipped to New York. The troops marched very cautiously through New Jersey. Washington followed closely in their rear. The 28th of June was a day of intense heat. The British were at Monmouth. The march of another day would unite them withthe troops in New York. They would then be safe from attack. Washington was extremely anxious that they should not escape without receiving at least one heavy blow.
Lee was in the advance with five thousand men. Washington ordered him to make an impetuous assault, promising to hasten to his support. Instead of obeying orders this strange man, of undoubted abilities but of inexplicable eccentricity, commenced a retreat. Intense, beyond the power of utterance, was the chagrin of Washington as he met Lee, at the head of his troops, in this retrograde movement. In tones of anguish he exclaimed: “What means this ill-timed prudence?” Lee instantly replied:
“I know of no man blessed with a larger portion of that rascally virtue than your Excellency.”
There was no time for altercation. Lee’s men felt humiliated. As soon as they caught sight of Washington they greeted him with cheers. Promptly they wheeled around at his command, and rushed upon the foe. A bloody battle ensued with all its ordinary complications of uproar, tumult, woe and death.
The British were routed and driven from the field. The Americans, exhilarated by their success, slept upon the field with their arms by their side, and impatiently awaited the morning, eager torenew the battle. Signal as had been their success, it would have been far more decisive had General Lee obeyed orders. General Washington wrapped himself in his cloak, and slept in the midst of his soldiers.
In the night the vanquished British silently stole away. In the morning no foe was to be seen. There were left three hundred of the mutilated bodies of their dead unburied upon the plain. Sixty prisoners were taken, and six hundred deserted the ranks, and scattered through the country. They were disgusted with the infamous service into which they had been driven by kings and courts, and were kindly received by the American farmers. At Middletown the remains of the fugitive army, protected by the guns of the fleet, embarked and were conveyed to New York.
Thus another summer passed away of marches, countermarches and skirmishes, many of them bloody and woeful, but without any decisive results. The inhuman court of England, disheartened by the wholesale desertion of troops, both English and German, and disappointed in their inability to enlist Tories for the war, redoubled their efforts to summon the demoniac savages to their aid. Loud were the remonstrances against this atrocious conduct by many of the noblest men ofEngland, both in the Commons and in the House of Lords. But the King and the Court declared, that in order to subdue America they had a right to use whatever instruments God and nature had placed in their hands. The British sent agents to the cruel savages of the Mohawk to rouse the fierce warriors of the Six Nations against the feeble villages of the frontier. It was a demoniac deed. Scenes of horror were witnessed too awful for recital. The annals of our globe contain scarcely any tragedies more awful than the massacres of Cherry Valley and Wyoming. The narrative of these deeds sent a thrill of horror not only throughout France and America, but into multitudes of humane hearts in England. Some Englishmen pleaded earnestly for us, like Lord Chatham, in the House of Lords. We shall never forget his words as he exclaimed, in view of these outrages:
“Were I an American as I am an Englishman, I would never lay down my arms, never—never—NEVER.”
Washington sent four thousand men to defend, as far as possible, the poor, helpless pioneers from the torch and the scalping-knife. Hundreds of lowly homes were laid in ashes. Hundreds of families, parents and children, were butchered, before the savages were driven from their murderous work.They fled at length to Niagara, where the British received their allies into their fortresses.
The American army, feeble in numbers, and suffering from cold and hunger, were led by Washington into winter quarters, mainly on the Hudson, near West Point. The British remained within their lines in the city of New York. Their fleet gave them command of the ocean, and they reveled in abundance. It would seem that both officers and men were a godless set, dead to humanity, and still more dead to religion. None but the worst of men would engage in so foul an enterprise. They spent the winter in dancing, gambling, drinking, and every species of dissolute carousal.
Alarmed by the tidings that France was coming to the aid of America, British pride and rage were roused to intensity. The spring campaign opened with renewed devastation and plunder. Lord George Germain had the effrontery to say in Parliament, in view of these scenes of massacre and brutal treatment of prisoners:
“A war of this sort will probably induce the rebellious provinces to return to their allegiance.”
The sky was reddened with the wanton burning of villages. Women and children were driven, houseless and without food, to perish in the fields.Fairfield and Norwalk, Connecticut, and many other towns were laid in ashes.
While the British were thus ravaging defenseless regions, Washington had no power to face their concentrated armies, yet he was eagerly watching for every opportunity to strike a blow, where there was good prospect of success. To subject his troops to almost certain defeat, would not only be cruel, in the slaughter which would ensue, but disheartening and ruinous to the cause.
The British had an important fortress at Stony Point on the Hudson. General Washington sent General Wayne to take it. With great gallantry he conducted the enterprise. Sixty-three of the British were killed, five hundred and forty-three were taken prisoners, and all the military stores of the fortress were captured. Many similar enterprises were conducted. With skill, which now seems supernatural, this wonderful man, thoughtful, prayerful, and confident of final success, held the fleets and armies of the empire of Great Britain at bay, thwarted all the efforts of their ablest generals, and closed the campaign unvanquished. We know not where to look for a record of greater military genius, of more self-denying patriotism, of higher nobility of soul, than is here displayed.
Again, as the wintry winds of 1779 swept the field,both armies retired to winter quarters, preparing to renew the conflict. With the early spring, the British troops were sent abroad in detachments to carry on their work of conflagration, blood, and misery. Sir Henry Clinton, then in command of the British forces, was anxious to crush the Americans before the fleet and army which France was so generously organizing should reach these shores.
In July, twelve French vessels of war with a supply of arms and ammunition, and an army of five thousand soldiers arrived. But England had by this time concentrated a far more formidable fleet in our waters, and had greatly increased her armies. Thus many felt that even the aid of France could be of no avail. Years of war and woe had filled some of even the stoutest hearts with despair. Many of the truest patriots urged that it was madness longer to continue the conflict; that it was in vain for these feeble colonies in their utter impoverishment, any longer to contend against the richest and most powerful monarchy on the globe.
General Arnold was in command at West Point. He was one of the bravest of soldiers, but a ruined gambler. Napoleon I. declared that he would never appoint any gambler to any post of responsibility. Arnold was overwhelmed with these so-called debts of honor. He saw no hope for hiscountry. He could turn traitor, and barter West Point for almost boundless quantities of British gold. The gambler became a traitor. The treason was detected. The traitor escaped, but young Andrè, who allowed himself to act the part of a spy in this foul deed, perished upon the scaffold. He was very young. He was surrounded by influences which perverted his judgment and deadened his conscience. Consequently, great sympathy was felt for him, and many tears were shed over his untimely end.
Britain proudly proclaimed that with her invincible fleet she ruled supreme over the wild waste of waters. The whole ocean she regarded as her undisputed domain. Lord Cornwallis was sent with a powerful army to overrun North and South Carolina. He had a numerous fleet to co-operate with him. The vigilant eye of Washington was fixed everywhere upon the foe, striving to ward off blows, and to harass the enemy in his movements.
Thus the dreary summer of 1780 lingered away, over our war-scathed, woe-stricken land. There were many bloody conflicts, but no decisive battles. Still Washington was victorious; for he thwarted all the herculean endeavors of the British to enslave our land.
In the opening spring of the year 1781, theBritish turned their main energies of devastation and ruin against the South. Richmond, in Virginia, was laid in ashes. With their armed vessels they ravaged the shores of the Chesapeake and the Potomac. They landed at Mount Vernon, and would have applied the torch to every building, and trampled down all the harvests, had not the manager of the estate ransomed the property by bringing in a large quantity of supplies. When Washington heard of this he was much displeased. He wrote to his agent:
“It would have been a less painful circumstance to me to have heard that in consequence of your non-compliance with their request, they had burned my house and laid the plantation in ruins. You ought to have considered yourself as my representative, and should have reflected on the bad example of communicating with the enemy, and of making a voluntary offer of refreshments to them with a view to prevent the conflagration.”
Still the prospects of the country were dark. The army dwindled away to three thousand men. There was no money in the treasury. The paper money issued by Congress had become quite valueless. The British, exasperated by defeats, and humiliated in seeing their fleets and armies held at bay so long by a foe so feeble, were summoningtheir mightiest energies to close the war as with a clap of thunder.
Cornwallis was now with a well-equipped army at Yorktown, in Virginia. There was no foe to oppose him. Washington made a secret movement, in conjunction with our generous allies, for his capture. He deceived the British by making them believe that he was preparing for the siege of New York. One bright and sunny morning in September, Cornwallis was surprised, and quite astounded in seeing the heights around him glistening with the bayonets and frowning with the batteries of the Americans. And at the same time a French fleet was ascending the bay, and casting anchor before the harbor. The British general was caught in a trap. A few days of hopeless despairing conflict ensued, when famine and the carnage of incessant bombardment compelled him to surrender. It was the 19th of October, 1781.
Awful was the humiliation of Cornwallis. Seven thousand British regulars threw down their arms. One hundred and sixty pieces of cannon graced this memorable triumph. The noble Washington, as the British troops were marching from their ramparts to become captives of war, said to the Americans:
“My brave fellows, let no sensation of satisfactionfor the triumphs you have gained induce you to insult your fallen enemy. Let no shouting, no clamorous huzzaing increase their mortification. Posterity will huzza for us.”
The next day he issued the following characteristic order to the army:
“Divine service is to be performed to-morrow, in the several brigades and divisions. The commander-in-chief earnestly recommends that the troops not on duty should universally attend, with that seriousness of deportment and gratitude of heart which the recognition of such reiterated and astonishing interpositions of Providence demand of us.”
It was midnight when the rapturous tidings reached Philadelphia. A watchman traversed the streets shouting at intervals, “Past twelve o’clock, and a pleasant morning. Cornwallis is taken.”
These words startled the slumbering citizens, almost like the “trump which wakes the dead.” Candles were lighted, windows thrown up, figures in night robes and caps bent eagerly out to catch the thrilling sound. Citizens rushed into the streets half clad; they wept, they laughed, they shouted, they embraced each other; the bells were rung, the booming of cannon and the rattle of musketry were heard in all directions, as men and boys,in the joyful salute, endeavored to give expression to their inexpressible joy.
The news flew upon the wings of the wind, over the mountains and through the valleys, no one could tell how. The shout of an enfranchised people rose like a roar of thunder from our whole land. The enthusiasm of the Americans was roused to the highest pitch. It was now clear, that, aided by the French fleet and the French army, and with such supplies of money, arms, and ammunition as France was generously affording, the British government could not enslave our land. The British were disheartened. Though they continued their menaces of hostility, it was evident that they considered the question as settled. Both parties retired to winter quarters. During the winter no movements were made by either party calling for record. Another summer came and went. There were marchings and counter-marchings, while neither the English nor the Americans seemed disposed to crimson the soil with the blood of a general conflict.
On the night of the 19th of April, 1783, the joyful tidings were communicated to the American army that a treaty of peace had been signed in Paris. It was just eight years from the day when the awful conflict commenced on the plain at Lexington. No one but God can know the amount of misery causedby those long years of battle. Thousands had perished amidst the agonies of the various fields of conflict; thousands had been beggared; millions of property had been destroyed; mothers and maidens whose numbers cannot be estimated had been dragged into captivity, a thousand-fold worse than death; and widows and orphans had been consigned to life-long poverty and grief.
Such was the vengeance which the powerful government of Great Britain wreaked upon these feeble colonies for their refusal to submit to intolerable despotism. The writer would not wish to perpetuate the remembrance of these wrongs, still it is not the duty of the historian to attempt to conceal or palliate atrocious outrages against the rights of human nature. It is difficult to find in all the records of the past, deeds more inexcusable, more wicked, more infamous, than this effort of Great Britain, to enslave these infant colonies.
Late in November, the British embarked in their fleet in New York, and sailed for their distant island. At the same time Washington, marching with his troops from West Point, entered the city. America was free and independent, and Washington was the universally recognized saviour of his country. There was no longer any foe. The army was disbanded on the 4th of December. Washington took leave ofhis companions in arms. His voice trembled with emotion as he said:
“With a heart full of love and gratitude, I now take leave of you. I most devoutly wish that your latter days may be as prosperous and happy as your former have been glorious and honorable. I cannot come to each of you to take my leave, but shall be obliged if each of you will come and take me by the hand.”
Tears blinded his eyes, and he could say no more. One after another, these heroic men grasped his hand in parting. Not a word was spoken. Slowly he journeyed towards Mount Vernon. At every city and village he was greeted with the highest tokens of love and veneration. On the 23d of December he met the Continental Congress at Annapolis. Resigning his commission, he said:
“Having now finished the work assigned me, I retire from the great theater of action, and bidding an affectionate farewell to thy august body, under whose orders I have so long acted, I here offer my commission, and take my leave of all the employments of public life.”
Soon a convention was held in Philadelphia to organize the Confederacy of States into a nation. Essentially the present Constitution was formed. By the unanimous voice of the electors, Washingtonwas chosen first President of the United States. He was inaugurated on the 30th of April, 1789. Holding the office two terms of four years each, he retired again in 1796, to the peaceful shades of Mount Vernon. In his farewell address he bequeathed to his countrymen a graceful legacy of patriotic counsel which ever has and ever will excite their profound admiration.
Washington, having inherited a large landed estate in Virginia, was, as a matter of course, a slaveholder. The whole number which he held at the time of his death was one hundred and twenty-four. The system met his strong disapproval. In 1786, he wrote to Robert Morris, saying: “There is no man living who wishes more sincerely than I do to see a plan adopted for the abolition of slavery.”
Lafayette, that true friend of popular rights, was extremely anxious to free our country from the reproach which slavery brought upon it. Washington wrote to him in 1788: “The scheme, my dear marquis, which you propose as a precedent to encourage the emancipation of the black people of this country from the state of bondage in which they are held, is a striking evidence of the state of your heart. I shall be happy to join you in so laudable a work.”
In his last will and testament, he inscribed thesenoble words: “Upon the decease of my wife, it is my will and desire that all the slaves which I hold in my own right shall receive their freedom. To emancipate them during her life would, though earnestly wished by me, be attended with such insuperable difficulties, on account of their mixture by marriage with the dower negroes, as to excite the most painful sensation, if not disagreeable consequences, from the latter, while both descriptions are in the occupancy of the same proprietor; it not being in my power, under the tenure by which the dower negroes are held, to manumit them.”
Long before this he had recorded his resolve. “I never mean, unless some particular circumstances should compel me to it, to possess another slave by purchase; it being among my first wishes to see some plan adopted by which slavery in this country may be abolished by law.”
Mrs. Washington, immediately after her husband’s death, learning from his will that the only obstacle to the immediate emancipation of the slaves was her right of dower, immediately relinquished that right, and the slaves were at once emancipated.
The 12th of December, 1799, was chill and damp. Washington, however, took his usual round on horseback to his farms, and returned late in theafternoon, wet with sleet, and shivering with cold. Though the snow was clinging to his hair behind when he came in, he sat down to dinner without changing his dress. The next day, three inches of snow whitened the ground, and the sky was clouded. Washington, feeling that he had taken cold, remained by the fireside during the morning. As it cleared up in the afternoon, he went out to superintend some work upon the lawn. He was then hoarse, and the hoarseness increased as night came on. He, however, took no remedy for it; saying, “I never take anything to carry off a cold. Let it go as it came.”
He passed the evening as usual, reading the papers, answering letters, and conversing with his family. About two o’clock the next morning, Saturday, the 14th, he awoke in an acute chill, and was seriously unwell. At sunrise, his physician, Dr. Craig, who resided at Alexandria, was sent for. In the meantime, he was bled by one of his overseers, but with no relief, as he rapidly grew worse. Dr. Craig reached Mount Vernon at eleven o’clock, and immediately bled his patient again, but without effect. Two consulting physicians arrived during the day: and, as the difficulty in breathing and swallowing rapidly increased, venesection was again attempted. It is evident that Washington thenconsidered his case doubtful. He examined his will, and destroyed some papers which he did not wish to have preserved.
His sufferings from inflammation of the throat, and struggling for breath, as the afternoon wore away, became quite severe. Still he retained his mental faculties unimpaired, and spoke briefly of his approaching death and burial. About four o’clock in the afternoon, he said to Dr. Craig: “I die hard; but I am not afraid to go. I believed, from my first attack, that I should not survive it: my breath cannot last long.” About six o’clock, his physician asked him if he would sit up in his bed. He held out his hands, and was raised upon his pillow, when he said: “I feel that I am going. I thank you for your attentions. You had better not take any more trouble about me, but let me go off quietly. I cannot last long.”
He then sank back upon his pillow, and made several unavailing attempts to speak intelligibly. About ten o’clock, he said: “I am just going. Have me decently buried, and do not let my body be put into the vault until three days after I am dead. Do you understand me?” To the reply, “Yes, sir,” he remarked, “It is well.” These were the last words he uttered. Soon after this he gently expired, in the sixty-eighth year of his age.
At the moment of his death, Mrs. Washington sat in silent grief at the foot of his bed. “Is he gone?” she asked in a firm and collected voice. The physician, unable to speak, gave a silent signal of assent. “’Tis well,” she added, in the same untremulous utterance. “All is now over. I shall soon follow him. I have no more trials to pass through.”
On the 18th, his remains were deposited in the tomb at Mount Vernon, where they now repose, enshrined in a nation’s love; and his fame will forever, as now, fill the world.166