•
,
TABLE OF CONTENTS.
BOOK NINTH.
SCSIMARY. — Gates takes the command of the northern army. Battle between Bur
goyne and Gates. Second battle still more sanguinary. Burgoyne in extremity. He
sirrenders. Generosity of Gates. Ravages committed by the royal troops. The
ropublicans prepare to oppose sir William Howe. -The marquis de la Fayette, and
his qualities. Howe lands with his army at the head of Elk. Battle of Brandywine.
After various movements the royalists take possession of Philadelphia. Battle of
Germantown. Operations upon the Delaware. The two armies go into quarters.
Miserable condition of the republicans in the quarters of Valley Forge, and their as-
tonishing constancy. Intrigues against Washington, and his magnanimity. Howa
succeeded by sir Henry Clinton, and departs for England.
BOOK TENTH.
SUMMARY.— Effects produced in England by the events of the war. The earl of
Chatham proposes a plan of conciliation, but is unable to procure its adoption. De-
signs of the ministers. Negotiations of congress in France. Interested policy of the
French government. Louis XVI. acknowledges the independence of the United
States. Lord North makes a motion in favor of an arrangement. Declaration of the
French ambassador. Independence of America. Pownal advocates in parliament
the acknowledgment of American independence. Jenkinson speaks in opposition to
it, and obtains the majority of votes. The earl of Chatham dies : his character. War
France and England. Naval battle of Ouessant.
is declared between
BOOK ELEVENTH.
SUMMARY. — The conciliatory plan of the ministry arrives in America. Effects it
produced there. Deliberations of congress. The treaties concluded with France arrive
in the United States. Joy of the inhabitants. The congress ratify the treaties. The
commissioners sent by George III. with proposals of peace arrive in America. The
Americans refuse all arrangement. The English evacuate Philadelphia. Battle of"
Monmouth. The count D'Estaing arriv* with a fleet in the waters of America. The
projects of that admiral. Other operations of the British commissioners. They are
without effect, and the commissioners depart from America. The congress give a
solemn audience to the minister of the king of France. Operations in Rhode Island.
Engagement between the count D'Estaing and Howe. Discontent of the Americans
against the French, arid quarrels which result from it. Horrible excision of Wyoming.
The count D'Estaing sails for the West Indies. Byron follows him. The royal army
moves to attack the southern provinces of the confederation.
BOOK TWELFTH.
SUMMARY.— The French capture Dominica, the English St. Lucia. The British
troops iana in Georgia, and occupy Savannah. They attempt to carry Charleston, in
South Carolina. Their depredations. Different military events. The islands of St.
Vincent and Grenada are conquered by the French. Naval action between the count
D'Estaing and admiral Byron. The count D'Estaing arrives in Georgia. Savannah
besieged by the Americans and French. Count D'Estaing returns to Europe. Polit-
ical revolution among the Americans. Spain joins the coalition against England
The combined fleets of France and Spain present themselves upon the coasts of Great
Britain. They retire. Causes of their retreat. Discontents in Holland against
England. Armed neutrality of the northern powers The British ministry send re-
inforcements to America. The English obtain great advantages over the Spaniards
and throw succors into Gibraltar. Firmness of the British oourt.
2054888
IV CONTENTS.
BOOK THIRTEENTH.
SUMMARY. — Campaign of the south. The English besiege and take Charleston.
Tarleton defeats the republicans at Wacsaw. Submission of South Carolina, and
proclamations of lord Cornwallis for the re-establishment of tranquillity in that prov-
ince. New York menaced. New devastations committed by the English. Washing-
ton defeats the plan of Clinton. Variations of bills of credit New efforts of the republi-
cans in South Carolina. Magnanimity of the women of that province. Campaign by
sea. Engagements between the count de Guichen and admiral Rodney. Dreadful
hurricane in the West Indies. The English capture a French convoy, and the Span-
iards, a British convoy. Siege of Gibraltar. Parties in Holland. Secret treaty
between the congress and the city of Amsterdam. Rupture between England and
Holland. Revival of ardor among the Americans. M. de la Fayette arrives from
France in America, and brings good news. Bank of Philadelphia. Academy of Mas-
sachusetts. The count de Rochambeau arrives in Rhode Island, with French troops.
War re-kindles in South Carolina. General Gates takes the command of the southern
army. Battle of Camden between Gates and Cornwallis. Bloody executions in
South Carolina. Conspiracy and treason. Deplorable death of major Andre. Hos-
tilities in the Carolinas. Battle of King's mountain. Affair of Blackstocks. Gates
succeeded by general Green. Battle of Cowpens. Admirable pursuit of the English,
and no less admirable retreat of the Americans. Battle of Guildford between Green
and Cornwallis. Green marches upon the Carolinas ; Cornwallis upon Virginia.
BOOK FOURTEENTH.
SUMMARY. — Losses of the Dutch. Depredations of the English at St. Eustatius.
The Spaniards seize West Florida. Plans of the belligerent powers. The English
revictual Gibraltar. The Spaniards attack that fortress with fury. M. de la Motte
Piquet takes from the English the booty they had made at St. Eustatius. Naval battle
of the bay of Praya. M. de Suffren succors the Cape of Good Hope. General Elliot,
governor of Gibraltar, destroys the works of the Spaniards. Attack upon Minorca.
The combined fleets show themselves upon the coast of England. Fierce combat
between the English and Dutch. The count de Grasse arrives in the West Indies,
with a formidable fleet. Combat between him and admiral Hood. The French take
Tobago. The count de Grasse and admiral Hood prepare themselves for the execution
of their plans of campaign. Intestine dissensions in the United States. Insurrection
in the army of Pennsylvania. Battle of Hobkirk. Battle of Eutaw Springs, and end
of the campaign of the south. Campaign of Virginia. Cornwallis takes post at York-
town. The combined troops besiege bam there, and constrain him to surrender with
all his army. The French make themselves masters of St. Christopher's. Minorca
tails into the power of the allies. Change of ministry in England.
BOOK FIFTEENTH.
SUMMARY. — Plans of the belligerent powers. The combined fleets menace the coasts
of England. Intrigues of the new ministers. Campaign of the West Indies. Memo-
rable engagement of the twelfth of April, 1782, between the count de Grasse and admi-
ral Rodney. Siege of Gibraltar. Description of that fortress. Floating batteries.
General attack. Victory of Elliot. Admiral Howe revictuals Gibraltar. Negotia-
tions of peace. Signature of treaties. Alarming agitation in the army of congress.
It is disbanded. Washington divests himself of the supreme command, and retire*
to his seat at Mount Vernon.
HISTORY
THE AMERICAN WAR
BOOK NINTH.
1777. BY the affairs of Bennington, and that ot Fort Schuyler,
it appeared that fortune began to smile upon the cause of the Amej--
icans. These successes produced the more happy effect upon their
minds, the more they were unexpected ; for since the fatal stroke
which deprived them of Montgomery, they had found this war of
Canada but one continued series of disasters. Their late discour-
agement and timidity were instantly converted into confidence and
ardor. The English, on the contrary, could not witness without
apprehension, the extinction of those brilliant hopes, which, from
their first advantages, they had been led to entertain.
Thus the face of things had experienced a total change ; and this
army, of late the object of so much terror for the Americans, was
now looked upon as a prey that co%ld not escape them. The ex-
ploit of Bennington, in particular, had inspired the militia with great
confidence in themselves ; since they had not only combated, butJ
repulsed and vanquished, the regular troops of the royal army, both
English and German.
They began now to forget all distinctions between themselves and
troops of the line, and the latter made new exertions and more stren-
uous efforts to maintain their established reputation for superiority
over the militia. Having lost all hope of seizing the magazines at
Bennington, general Burgoyne experienced anew the mos^ alarming
scarcity of provisions. But on the other hand, the successes of the
Americans under the walls of Fort Schuyler, besides having inspirited
the militia, produced also this other happy effect, that of enabling
them.*now liberated from the fear of invasion in the country upon
the Mohawk, to inpte all their forces on the banks of the Hudson*
6 THE AMERICAN WAR. BOOK IX.
against the army of Burgoyne. The country people look arms in
multitudes, and hastened to the camp. The moment was favorable ;
the harvests were ended, and the arrival of general Gates to take the
command of the army, gave a new spur to their alacrity. This of-
ficer enjoyed the entire esteem and confidence of the Ameri-
cans ; his name alone was considered among them as the pre-
sage of success. The congress, in their sitting of the fourth oi
August, had appointed him to the command of the army of the
north, while affairs still wore the most lowering aspect ; but he had
not arrived at Stillwater till the twenty-first.
General Schuyler was promptly apprised that a successor had been
given him ; but this good citizen had continued until the arrival of
Gates to exert all his energies to repair the evil. Already, as we
have seen, his efforts had not been fruitless, and victory inclined in
his favor. He bitterly complained to Washington, that the course of
his fortune was interrupted, and that the fruit of his toils was given
to another, who was about to enjoy that victory for which he had
prepared the way. But the congress preferred to place at the head
of an army, dismayed by its reverses, a general celebrated for his
achievements. Moreover, they were not ignorant that if Schuyler
was agreeable to the New Yorkers, he was nevertheless in great dis-
repute with the people of Massachusetts, and the other provinces of
New England.
This necessarily counteracted that alacrity with which it was de-
sired that the militia from that quarter should hasten to re-inforce the
army of the north, which was then encamped on the islands situated
& the confluence of the Mohawk with the Hudson.
Another and very powerful cause contributed to excite the mass
of the Americans to rise againft the English army, which was the
cruelties committed by the savages under St. Leger and Burgoyne,
who spared neither age nor sex nor opinions. The friends of the
royal cause, as well as its enemies, were equally victims to their in-
discriminate rage. The people abhorred and execrated an army
which consented to act with such ferocious auxiliaries. Though too
true, their deeds of barbarity were aggravated by the writers and
orators of the patriot party, which carried the exasperation of minds
to its utmost height. They related, among others, an event which
drew tears, from every eye, and might furnish, if not too horrible, an
affecting subject for the dramatic art.
A young lady, by the name of M'Crea, as distinguished for her
virtues as for the beauty of } er person and the gentleness of her
manners, of respectable family, and recently affianced to a British
officer, was seized by the savages in her father's house, near Fort
BOOK IX. THE AMERICAN WAR. 7
Edward, dragged into the woods, with several other young people of
both sexes, and there barbarously scalped and afterwards murdered
Thus, this ill fated damsel, instead of being conducted to the hyme-
neal altar, received an inhuman death at the very hands of the com-
panions in arms of that husband she was about to espouse. The
recital of an atrocity so unexampled, struck every breast with horror,
as well in Europe as America, and the authors of the Indian war
were loaded with the bitterest maledictions.
The Americans represent the fact as it is stated above , other
writers relate it differently. According to their account, young
Jones, the British officer, fearing that some ill might betide the object
of his love, as well in consequence of the obstinate attachment of
her father to the royal cause, as because their mutual passion was
already publicly talked of, had, by the promise of a large recompense,
induced two Indians, of different tribes, to take her under their
escort, and conduct her in safety to the camp. The two savages
went accordingly, and brought her through the woods ; but at the
very moment they were about to place her in the hands of her future
husband, they fell to quarreling about their recompense, each con-
tending that it belonged entirely to himself; when one of them, trans-
ported with brutal fury, raised his club and laid the unhappy maiden
dead at his feet. General Burgoyne, on being informed of this
horrid act, ordered the assassin to be arrested, that he might suffer
the punishment due to his crime. But he soon after pardoned him
upon the promise made him by the savages of abstaining for the future
from similar barbarities, and of strictly observing the conditions to
which they had pledged themselves upon the banks of the river
Bouquet. The general believed that this act of clemency would be
more advantageous than the exantple of chastisement. It even
appears that he did not think himself sufficiently authorized, by the
laws of England, to try and punish with death the murderer of the
young lady ; as if there existed not other laws besides the English,
which bound him to inflict a just chastisement upon the perpetrator
of a crime so execrable. But if he was warned by prudence to
abstain from it, then was he to be pitied for the state of weakness to
which he was reduced, and *he weight of censure and detestation
must fall exclusively upon the counsels of those who had called
these barbarians into a civil contest. However the truth was, the
condescension of general Burgoyne recoiled upon himself; for the
savages, finding they were no longer permitted, as at first, to satiate
their passion for pillage and massacre, deserted the camp, and re-
turned to their several homes, ravaging and plundering whatever they
found in their way. Thus terminated, almost entirely, this year, the
8 THE AMERICAN WAR. BOOK IX.
Indian war ; a war impolitic in principle, atrocious in execution, and
bootless in result. The Canadians themselves, and the loyalists who
followed the royal army, terrified ot the sinister aspect of affairs
deserted with one consent ; so that Burgoyne, in his greatest need,
was left nearly destitute of other force except his English and Ger-
man regular troops.
Such was his situation, when a party of republicans undertook an
enterprise upon the rear of his army, which, if it had succeeded,
would have entirely cut off his provisions and retreat towards Cana-
da; and at least demonstrated the danger to which he had exposed
himself, in having advanced with so small an army to so great a dis-
tance from the strong posts upon the lakes.
General Lincoln, with a strong corps of the militia of New
Hampshire and Connecticut, conceived the hope of recovering for
the confederation the fortresses of Ticonderoga and Mount Indepen-
dence, and consequently the command of Lake George. He knew
that these places were guarded only by feeble garrisons. He ad-
vanced from Manchester to Pawlet. He parted his corps into three
divisions ; the first, commanded by colonel Brown, was to proceed to
the northern extremity of Lake George, and thence to fall by sur-
prise upon Ticonderoga ; the second, led by colonel Johnston, was
destined to scour the country about Fort Independence, in order to
make a diversion, and even an attack, if occasion should favor it ;
the third, under the orders of colonel Woodbury, had it in view to
reduce Skeenesborough, Fort Anne, and even Fort Edward. Colo-
nel Brown, with equal secrecy and celerity, surprised all the posts
upon Lake George and the inlet of Ticonderoga, Mount Hope,
Mount Defiance, and the old French lines. He took possession of
two hundred batteaux, an armed brig, and several gun boats ; he
also made a very considerable number of prisoners. Colonel John-
ston arrived at the same time under the walls of Fort Independence.
The two fortresses were summoned to capitulate. But brigadiei
Powell, who held the chief command, replied that he was resolved
to defend himself. The Americans continued their cannonade for
the space of four days ; but their artillery being of small caliber, and
the English opposing a spirited resistance, they were constrained to
abandon the enterprise, and to recover their former positions.
Meanwhile, 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. Havingat length, by strenuous efforts, obtained about thirty
days' provision, he took a* resolution of passing the river with his
• army, in order to engage the enemy, and force a passage to Albany,
BOOK IX. THE AMERICAN WAR.
*
As a swell of the water, occasioned by great rains, had earned 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.
This measure of passing the Hudson was by many censured with
great vehemence ; it was considered as the principal cause of the
unfortunate issue of this campaign. Some were of the opinion that
after the affairs of Bennington and Stanwix, Burgoyne would have
acted more wisely, considering the daily increase of the American
army, if he had renounced the project of occupying Albany, and
made the best of his way back to the lakes. It appears, however,
to us but just to remark for his excuse, that at this time he had not
yet received any intelligence either of the strength of the army left
at New York, or of the movements which sir Henry Clinton was to
make, or had made, up the North river towards Albany. He cal-
culated upon a powerful co-operation on the part of that general.
Such was the plan of the ministers, and such the tenor of his own
peremptory instructions. And to what reproaches would he not
have exposed himself, if, by retiring towards Ticonderoga, he had
abandoned Clinton to himself, and thus voluntarily relinquished all
the advantages that were expected from the junction of the two
armies ? We may, however, consider as vain the apology which
was advanced by Burgoyne himself, when he alledged, that if he had
returned to the lakes, Gates might have gone to join Washington,
who, falling upon Howe with the combined armies, must*have over-
powered him, and decided the fate of the whole war. Gates would
never have abandoned the shores of the Hudson, so long as the army
of Burgoyne was opposed to him, whether in the position of Sara-
toga, or in that of Ticonderoga. It is, besides, to be observed, that
as a great part of the army of Gates consisted in the New England
militia, these, at least, would not have followed him, even if he had
marched upon the Delaware. But though we think that Burgoyne
committed no error in resolving to prosecute his expedition, it never-
theless appears that he ought not to have passed the Hudson. By
continuing upon the left bank, he could retire at will towards Ticon-
deroga, or push forward towards Albany. It was evidently more
easy to execute this movement, while having between himself and
the now formidable army of Gates, so broad a river as the Hudson.
The roads above, from Batten Kill to Fort George, were much
easier upon the left than those upon the right bank ; and in g<in
10 THE AMERICAN WAR. BOOK IX.
down towards Albany, if they were not better, at least they were
not worse. The city of Albany, it is true, is situated upon the right
bank ; but when Burgoyne should have arrived opposite to that city,
upon the left, the English from below might have corne up with their
boats, and transported the troops to the right bank. At any rate,
Burgoyne might thus have operated his junction with Clinton. But
the former, either confiding too much in his army, which was, in
truth, equally brave and flourishing, or not esteeming the Americans
enough, notwithstanding the more favorable opinion of them which
the actions of Bennington and of Stanwix should have given him
resolved to quit the safer ground, and try the fortune of a battle ; he
considered victory as certain and decisive. In like manner as the
British ministers, erroneously estimating the constancy of the colo-
nists, had persuaded themselves that they could reduce them to
submission by rigorous laws, the generals, deceiving themselves as
strangely with respect to their courage, had no doubt that with their
presence, a few threats and a little rattling of their arms, they could
put them to flight. From this blind confidence in victory resulted
a series of defeats, and the war was irretrievably lost from too san-
guine an assurance of triumph.
But let us resume the course of events. The nineteenth of
September was reserved by destiny for an obstinate and sanguinary
action, in which it was at length to be decided whether the Ameri-
cans, as some pretended, could only resist the English when protected
by the strength of works, or of woods, rivers and mountains, or if
they were capable of meeting them upon equal ground, in fair and
regular battle. General Burgoyne, having surmounted the obstacles
of thick woods and broken bridges, by which his progress was
continually interrupted, at length arrived in the front of the enemy,
some woods only of no great extent separating the two armies.
Without a moment's delay, the English formed themselves in order
of battle ; their right wing rested upon some high grounds which
riso gradually from the river ; it was flanked by the grenadiers and
light infantry, who occupied the hills. At some distance in front,
and upon the side of these, were posted those Indians, Canadians
and loyalists who had still remained in the camp. The loft wing
and artillery, under generals Phillips and Reidesel, kept along the
great road and meadows by the river side. The American army
drew up in the same order from the Hudson to the hills ; Gates had
taken the right, and given the left to Arnold. Smart skirmishes
immediately ensued between the foremost marksmen of either army.
Morgan, with his light horse, and colonel Durbin, with the light
infantry, had attacked and routed the Canadians and savages ; but
BOOK IX. THE AMERICAN WAR. 11
the latter having been supported, they were both in their turn com-
pelled to resume their place in the line. Mean while $ Burgoyne,
either intending to turn the left flank of the enemy, or wishing to
avoid, by passing higher up, the hollows of the torrents which fall
into the Hudson, extended his right wing upon the heights, in order
to fall upon Arnold in flank and rear.
But Arnold was, at the same time, endeavoring to execute a sim-
ilar maneuver upon him, while neither of them was able, on account
of the woods, to perceive the movements of his enemy.
The two parties met ; general Frazer repulsed the Americans.
Finding the right flank of the enemy's right wing so well defended,
they left a sufficient guard to defend this passage, made a rapid
movement to their right, and vigorously assailed the left flank of the
same wing. Arnold exhibited upon this occasion all the impetuosity
of his courage ; he encouraged his men with voice and example.
The action became extremely warm ; the enemy, fearing that Arnold,
by. cutting their line, would penetrate between their wings, as \vas
manifestly his intention, hastened to re-inforce the points attacked.
General Frazer came up with the twenty-fourth regiment, some light
infantry and Breyman's riflemen ; he would have drawn more troops
from the right flank, but the heights on which it was posted, were of
too great importance to be totally evacuated. Meanwhile, such was
the valor and impetuosity of the Americans, that the English began
to fall into confusion ; but general Phillips soon appeared with fresh
men and a part of the artillery ; upon hearing the firing, he had rap-
idly made his way through a very difficult wood to the scene of
danger. He restored the action at the very moment it was about
being decided in favor of the enemy.
The Americans, however, renewed their attacks with such perse-
vering energy, that night only parted the combatants. The royalists
passed it under arms upon the field of battle ; the republicans re-
tired. They had lost from three to four hundred men in killed and
wounded ; among the former were colonels Adams and Coburn.
The English had to regret more than five hundred, and among oth-
ers, captain Jones, of the artillery, an officer of great merit.
Both parties claimed the honor of victory. The English, it is true,
kept possession of the field of battle ; yet, as the intention of the
Americans was not to advance, but to maintain their position, and
that of the English not to maintain theirs, but to gain ground, and as,
besides, it was a victory for the republicans not to be vanquished, it is
easy to see which had the advantage of the day. On the other
hand, the English were now convinced, to the great prejudice of.
tlieir hopes, and even of their courage, that they would have to grap-
12 THE AMERICAN WAR. BOOK IX.
pie with a foe as eager for action, as careless of danger, and as in-
different with respect to ground or cover as themselves.
The day following, general Burgoyne, finding that he must aban-
don all idea of dislodging the enemy by force, from his intrenched
positions, endeavored to console himself with the hope, that time
might offer him some occasion, to operate with more effect.
He was, besides, in daily expectation of news from general Clin-
ton, with respect to whose movements he was still entirely in the
dark. Resolving, therefore, to pause, he pitched his camp within
cannon shot of the American lines. He threw up numerous in-
trenchments, both upon his right, the part which had been attacked,
and upon his left, in order to defend the meadows near the river,
where he had established his magazines and hospitals. An English
regiment, the Hessians of Hanau, and a detachment of loyalists,
were encamped in the same meadows for greater security. General
Gates continued to occupy his first position, taking care, however,
to fortify himself strongly on the left. With the return of success,
his army was continually re-inforced by the accession of fresh bodies
of the militia. General Lincoln joined him with two thousand men,
well trained and disciplined, from the New England provinces.
The English exerted the greatest vigilance to avoid surprise ; and
the Americans to prevent them from going out of their camp to for-
age. The skirmishes were animated and frequent.
The British general had for a long time been expecting news from
New York ; and his impatience was at its height,, when, the twentieth
of September, he received a letter of the tenth, written in ciphers,
by general Clinton, informing him that about the twentieth of the
month, he should with two thousand men attack Fort Montgomery,
situated on the right bank of the Hudson, and upon the declivity of
the highlands. He excused himself upon account of weakness for
not doing more ; and even declared, that if the enemy made any
movement towards the coasts of New York, he should be forced to
return thither. Burgoyne immediately dispatched an emissary, two
officers in disguise, and some other trusty persons, by different routes,
to general Clinton, with a full account of his present situation, urging
him to a speedy execution of the diversions he had proposed, and
informing him that he was provided with sufficient necessaries, to
hold out in his present position till the twelfth of October. Although
the assistance promised by Clinton was much less effectual than Bur-
goyne had kept in view, nevertheless, he still cherished a hope that
the attack on fort Montgomery, and the apprehension that the Eng-
lish after its reduction might make their way up the river, would in-
duce Gates either to change the position of his camp, or to send
BOOK IX. THE AMERICAN WAR. 13
large detachments down the river, to oppose the progress of Clinton,
and that in either case, some occasion would be offered him to gain
a decisive advantage, and open his passage to Albany. But whoever
considers the great superiority, in spirit as well as number, of the
army of Gates over that of Burgoyne, and that the former was con-
tinually increasing in force, will readily perceive how vain were the
expectations of the British general. It appears, therefore, that the
mere survey of his own weakness, of that of Clinton, and of the
preponderant force of Gates, should have determined him for retreat,
if, however, retreat was still in his power. For to cross the river in
sight of so formidable an army, would have been too perilous an en-
terprise ; and here it is again perceived how imprudent had beon the
measure of passing it at first, since from that moment it became alike
impossible to advance or recede.
In the beginning of October, general Burgoyne thought it expe-
dient, from the difficulty of his situation and the uncertainty of suc-
cor, to lessen the soldiers' rations of provisions ; to this measure,
from its necessity, they submitted with great cheerfulness. But the
twelfth of October was approaching, the term limited for the stay
of the army in its present encampment. The seventh was already
arrived, and no tidings came of the operations that had been pro-
posed for its relief. In this alarming state of things, the English
general resolved to make a movement to the enemy's left, not only
to discover whether there were any possible means of forcing a pas-
sage, should it be necessary to advance, or of dislodging them for
the convenience of retreat, but also to cover a forage of the army.
He was impelled by necessity to attempt a decisive stroke. Accord-
ingly he put himself at the head of a detachment of fifteen hundred
regular troops, with two twelve pounders, two howitzers, and fix
six pounders. He was seconded by generals Phillips, Reidesel and
Frazer, all officers distinguished for their zeal and ability. The
guard of the camp upon the high grounds was committed to the
brigadiers general Hamilton and Speight, that of the redoubts and
plain near the river, to brigadier Goll.
The force of the enemy immediately in the front of his lines was
so much superior, that Burgoyne could not venture to augment his
detachment beyond the number we have stated. He had given
orders that during this first attack, several companies of loyalists and
Indians should be pushed on through by-ways, to appear as a check
upon the rear of the enemy's left flank. The column of regulars,
having already issued from the camp, were formed within three quar-
ters of a mile of the enemy's left, and manifested an intention to
turn it. But general Gates, who observed this movement, instantly
14' THE AMERICAN WAR. BOOK. IX.
penetrated the design of the English, and with exquisite discernment
resolved to make a sudden and rapid attack upon the left of this
corps, hoping thus to separate it from the remainder of the army,
and to cut off its retreat to the camp. The Americans advanced to
the charge with incredible impetuosity, but they were received with
equal resolution by major Ackland, at the head of the grenadiers.
Gates immediately detached a fresh and powerful re-inforcement to
the aid of the first, and the attack was soon extended along the whole
front of the Germans, who were posted immediately on the right of
Ackland's grenadiers. Hence the British general found it impracti-
cable to move any part of that body, as he would have desired, for
the purpose of forming a second line to support this left flank, where
the great weight of the fire still fell. As yet the right was unen-
gaged, when the British generals perceived that the enemy were
marching a strong body round their flank, in order to cut off their
retreat. To oppose this dangerous design of the American gener-
al, the light infantry, with a part of the twenty-fourth regiment, which
were joined with them at that post, were thrown into a second line,
in order to cover the retreat of the troops into camp. While this
movement was yet in process, Arnold came up with three regiments,
and fell upon this right wing. Gates, at the same time, sent a strong
re-inforcement to Decide the action on the English left, which, being
at length totally overpowered, fell into disorder and fled. The light
infantry and the twenty-fourth advanced with all speed to check the
victorious Americans, whose riflemen pursued the fugitives with great
eagerness ; there ensued an extremely warm affair, and many per-
ished on both sides.
Upon this occasion, brigadier-general Frazer was mortally vvound-
eo^ an officer whose loss was severely felt by the English, and whose
valor and abilities justified their regrets. Their situation now became
exceedingly critical ; even their camp was threatened ; the enemy,
emboldened by victory, .was advancing to storm it, and if he arrived
before the retreating detachment, there could be little hope of de-
fending it. Phillips and Reidesel were ordered to rally with all ex-
pedition those troops which were nearest, or most disengaged, to
cover the retreat of the others, while Burgoyne himself, fiercely pur-
sued by Arnold, retired with great precipitation towards the camp.
The detachment at length, though with extreme difficulty, regained
the intrenchments, having left, however, upon the field of battle, a
great number of killed and wounded, particularly of the artillery
corps, who had, with equal glory to themselves and prejudice to the
enemy, displayed the utmost ability in their profession, along with the
BOOK IX. THE AMERICAN WAR.
most undaunted resolution. Six pieces of cr
the power of the Americans.
But the business of the day was not yet 4
had scarcely entered the camp, when tl:
success, assaulted it in different part?
rushing to the lines through a severf
arms, with the utmost fury. Arnolc
peared intoxicated with the thirst o
attack against a part of the intre
infantry, under lord Balcarres. F
great vigor and spirit. The actir
At length, as it grew towards c.
obstacles, entered the works wit
followers. But in this critical r
grievously wounded in the same
at the assault of Quebec. To
to retire. His party still con-ti
tained it with obstinacy, till i
The royalists were not so fc ,
lican detachment, commande
succeeded by a circuitous mo
English, fell, sword in hand, •
ments, and made the most d
post was defended by lieutena
German reserve. The resist
but Breyman being mortally v
and at length routed, with grf
baggage, fell into the powe
tablished themselves in the
hearing of this disaster, o
But either in consequent
couragement of his troop
tinued to occupy the poj
They had now acquired
British army. The oil
arms, at the distance of
dead and wounded wa:
of the English, of wh
Williams of theartille
Xhe latter. Many pie
and many warlike stc
needed them greatly
to renew the battle. ,
THE AMERICAN WAR. BOOK IX.
penetrated the design o British s th bofe u however, with
resolved to make a sudo ^^ R wag evidentl irnpossibie to con-
corps, hoping thus to sepa without submitting to a ceitamty of
and to cut off its retreat to t., The AmericanSj invigorated and
the charge with incredible imC fited of ^ accegg lhey had
equal resolution by major AckF, R ^ - ^ and of other UQtenable
Gates immediately detached a R cam and completely surround
the aid of the first, and the attack ^^ determined to operate a tota]
front of the Germans, who were pd ^ moveinent with admirable
Ackland's grenadiers. Hence to artffl ^ and ks apper.
cable to move any part of that hoc morni thc heights above tho
the purpose of/ormmga second hn. .^ had theriver in ltgrear>
the great weight of the fire still fe^j^ the rightbank. The
gaged, when the British generals p followi d But GateS) Iike
marching a strong body round their ^ nofe ose to the nsk of
retreat. To oppose this dangerous ^ ^ alread certain He in.
al, the light infantry, with a part of the v ghould complete the work
were joined with them at that post, we^^ There were frequenl
in order to cover the retreat of the tro<ourge of the day . but ()f Uttle
movement was yet in process, Arnold ce ieg of general Frazer were
and fell upon this right wing. Gates, atm mournfui of itse]f, and
Enforcement to decide the action on t recent loggeg) of future dan.
at length totally overpowered, fell into -The darkness and silei,ce of
infantry and the twenty-fourth advancej rQar of the American f rtlue-
victorious Americans, whose riflemen pured earth upon tht: face
eagerness ; there ensued an extremely \
ished on both sides. d detached a strong division
Upon this occngion, brigadier-general I , of the Hudson> opposite
ed» an officer whose loss was severely felt 1Q and prevent the enemy ,
valor and abilities justified their regrets. Tj ft ^ond detachment ^
exceedingly critical ; even their camp was &t the sametimej a seiect.
emboldened by victory, was advancing to st.ward and turn the right
before tiie retreating detachment, there cou ey gide Burgoyne,
f<,-nding it. Phillips and Reidesel were orde,Q retife towards Sarato-
pedition those troops which were nearest, oiame bank> The army
co\ cr the retreat of the others, while Burgoyn»t nigju . but sucjj was
sued by Arnold, retired with great precipitatioifficult by a heavy rain
The detachment at length, though with extremnegg of tfte teanlg for
the intrenchments, having left, however, upon Saratoga till the even-
great number of killed and wounded, particuliarasged with fatigue
corps, who had, with equal glory to themselves \d gick and wounded,
enemy, displayed the utmost ability in their profee abandoned to the
BOOK IX. THE AMERICAN WAR. 17
enemy. The English, as they retired, burnt the houses, and de-
stroyed whatever they could use no longer.
The rain having ceased, Gates followed them step by step, and
with extreme caution, as they had broken all the bridges, and he
was resolved not to give them any opportunity to engage him with
advantage.
Fearing that Burgoyne would hasten to detach his light troops, in
order to secure the passage of the river near Fort Edward, he rapidly
threw several companies of militia into that fort, in order to prevent
it. Scarcely had they arrived there, when the English rangers ap.
peared ; but finding themselves anticipated, they returned disap-
pointed and dejected. During this time, the main body of the Eng-
lish army, having passed the night of the ninth at Saratoga, left it on
the morning of the tenth, and forded Fish Kill Creek, which falls
into the Hudson, a little to the northward of that town. The Brit-
ish generals had hoped that they should here be able to cross the
river at the principal ford, and escape pursuit upon its left bank.
But they found a body of republicans already arrived, and throwing
up intrenchments on the heights to the left of Fish Kill Creek. These
Americans, however, when they observed the great superiority of the
English, retired over the Hudson, and there joined a greater force,
which was stationed to prevent the passage of the army. Having
lost all hope of passing the river in the vicinity of Saratoga, the
British generals had it in mind to push forward upon the right bank,
till, they arrived in front of Fort Edward, and then to force a passage
to the left bank, in defiance of the troops stationed there for its de-
fense. For this purpose, a company of artificers, under the escort
of a regiment of the line, with a detachment of marksmen and loy-
alists, were sent forward to repair the bridges, and open the road to
Fort Edward. But they were not long departed from the camp,
when the <enemy appeared in great force upon the heights on the
opposite side of Fish Kill Creek, and seemed preparing to cross it,.
in order to bring on an immediate engagement.
The regulars and marksmen were immediately recalled. The
workmen had only commenced the repair of the first bridge, when
they were abandoned.by the loyalists, who ran away, and left them
to shift for themselves, only upon a very slight attack of an incon-
siderable party of the enemy. Hence it became necessary to aban-
don all hopes of saving the artillery and baggage.
Amidst all these embarrassments, still a new difficulty presented
itself; tiie republicans who lined the further shore of . the Hudson,
kept up a continual fire upon the batteaux loaded with provisions
and necessa|jes which had attended the motions of the army up the,
VOL. n. 2
18 THE AMERICAN WAR. BOOK IX
river, since its departure from Stillwater. Many of these boats had
been taken, some re-taken, and a number of men lost on both sides.
At length, to avoid these inconveniences, the English were forced to
land the provisions, and transport them up the hill to the camp ; a
labor which they accomplished under a" heavy fire, with great fatigue
and loss. Nothing could now exceed the distress and calamity of
the British army ; the soldiers as well as the generals were reduced
to brood upon the prospect of an ignominious surrender, or total
destruction. To attempt the passage of so wide a river, while its
shore was guarded with so much vigilance by a formidable body of
troops, and in the presence of a powerful enemy, flushed with vic-
tory, was an enterprise savoring rather of madness than temerity.
On the other hand, the retreat upon the right bank, with the same
enemy at the rear, through ways so difficult and impracticable, was
a scheme which presented obstacles absolutely insurmountable.
Every thing announced therefore an inevitable catastrophe. Never-
theless, in the midst of so much calamity, a ray of hope suddenly
gleamed upon the English ; and they were near gaining an opportu-
nity of retrieving their affairs all at once. The two armies were only
separated by the Fish Kill Creek ; report, which magnifies all things,
had represented to general Gates the feeble detachment which Bur-
goyne had sent to escort his pioneers upon the route to Fort Ed-
ward as the entire vanguard and center of the British army, already
well on their way towards that fort. He concluded, therefore, that
only the rear guard remained near the Fish Kill, and instantly con-
ceived the hope of crushing it by an attack with all his forces. He
made all his preparations in the morning of the eleventh of Octo-
ber. His scheme was to take advantage of a thick fog, which in
those regions, and at this season, usually obscure the atmosphere till
a little after sunrise, to pass the Fish Kill very early, to seize a batte-
ry which Burgoyne had erected upon the opposite bank, and then
to fall immediately upon the enemy. The English general had no-
tice of this plan ; he furnished the battery with a strong guard, and
posted his troops in ambush behind the thickets which covered the
banks of the creek. In this position he waited the enemy's ap-
proach, and calculating upon their supposed error, he had little doubt
of victory. The brigade of the American general Nixon had al-
ready forded the Fish Kill, and that of general Glover was about to
follow it. But just as the latter entered the water, he was informed
by a British deserter, that not only the rear guard, but the whole
royal army, was drawn up in order of battle upon the other bank.
Upon this intelligence Glover halted, and sent to apprise IVixon of
the danger he was in of being cut in pieces, unless he^hastenetl (o
BOOK IX. THE AMERICAN WAR. 19
recover the left bank. General Gates was immediately informed of
the incident ; he revoked all the orders he had given, and diiected
that the troops should be reconducted to their positions. General
Nixon received the message of Glover in good time ; for a quarter
of an hour later he would have been lost irrecoverably. He fe'l
back with all expedition ; but the fog being dissipated before lie
was out of sight of the enemy, his rear guard was annoyed by the
English artillery, with the loss of a few soldiers.
Frustrated of this hope, general Burgoyne applied his thoughts to
devise, if possible, some other way to save the army. He called a
council of war, in which it was resolved to attempt, by a rapid retreat
in the night up the Hudson, to gain the fords of that river at or
above Fort Edward, and there having forced a passage, to press on
to Fort George. That nothing might retard the march, it was
determined to abandon the artillery, baggage, carriages, and all
incumbrances. The soldiers were to carry upon their backs a suffi-
cient quantity of provisions, to support them till they could arrive
at Fort George. All the troops prepared to execute the plan of
their general.
But Gates had already, with great foresight, taken all his measures
to defeat it. He had recommended the utmost vigilance to the
parties that were stationed to guard the opposite shore of the river ;
he had posted a strong'detachment to guard the fords near Fort
Edward, with orders to oppose any attempt of the enemy to pass
them, till he should arrive with the army upon his rear. In addition
to this, he had established a camp in force, and provided with artil-
lery, upon the high and strong grounds between Fort Edward and
Fort George. General Burgoyne had sent forward scouts, to exam-
ine the route, and especially to ascertain whether it was possible
to force the passage opposite to Fort Edward. They returned with
an account that the roads were inconceivably rough and difficult;
that the enemy were so numerous and vigilant upon the left bank,
that no movement of the army upon the right could escape imme-
diate discovery ; and that the passages at the fort were so diligently
defended, that it was absolutely impossible to force them without
artillery. They also mentioned the intrenched camp on the hills
between the two forts. Burgoyne had no sooner received this afflict-
ing intelligence, than he was also informed that general Gates, with
the mam body of his army, was so near, and observed him with such
steady attention, that it would be impossible for him to move a step
without being instantly followed ; he then saw that he must relin-
quish all hope of saving himself by his own efforts.
In this deplorable extremity, his only refuge from despair was the
20 THE AMERICAN WAR. , BOOK IX.
faint hope of co-operation from the parts down the river ; and with
the most intense desire he looked for the aid of Clinton.
It exceeds the power of words to describe the pitiable condition
to which the British army was now reduced. The troops, worn
down by a series of hard toil, incessant effort and stubborn action ;
abandoned by the 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 effective righting 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 situa-
tion, obliged to lie constantly on their arms, while a continued can-
nonade pervaded all the camp, and even rifle and grape-shot fell in
every part of their lines, the troops of Burgoyne retained their ordi-
nary constancy, and while sinking under a hard necessity, they
showed themselves worthy of a better fate. Nor could they be re-
proached with any action or word which betrayed a want of temper,
or of 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 defini-
tive resolution, the more desperate became their situation. Bur-
goyne, therefore, immediately called a council of war, at which not
only the generals and field officers, but all the captains of companies
were imited 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 unani-
mously to open a treaty and enter into a convention with the Amer-
ican general.
Gates used his victory with moderation Only he proposed that
the royal troops should lay down their arms in camp ; a condition
which appeared too hard to the English, and which they perempto-
rily refused. They all preferred to be led against the enemy, not-
withstanding the disadvantage of number, rather than submit to such
a disgrace. After several conferences, the articles of capitulation
were settled the fifteenth They were to be signed by the two
BOOK IX. THE AMERICAN WAR. 21
contracting parties on the morning of the seventeenth. In the night,
captain Campbell arrived at the British camp, sent express by gene-
ral Clinton, with the intelligence that he had moved up the Hudson,
reduced Fort Montgomery, and penetrated as far as ^Esopus. The
hope of safety revived in the breasts of some.
The officers were invited to declare, whether in a case of extremity,
the soldiers were in a situation to fight, and whether they considered
the public faith as pledged by the verbal convention. A great num-
ber answered, that the soldiers, debilitated by fatigue and hunger,
were unable to make resistance ; all were decidedly of the opinion,
that the public faith was engaged. Burgoyne alone manifested a
contrary opinion. But he was constrained to acquiesce in the general
suffrage. Meanwhile, Gates, apprised of these hesitations of his
enemy, and the new hopes which occasioned them, formed his troops
in order of battle on the morning of the seventeenth, and sent to
inform Burgoyne that the stipulated time being arrived, he must
either sign the articles, or prepare himself for battle.
The Englishman had taken his resolution; he signed the paper,
which had this superscription; Convention between lieutenant-gene-
ral Burgoyne and major-general' Gates. The principal articles,
exclusive of those which related to the provision and accommoda-
tion of the army in its way to Boston, and during its stay at that
place, were ;
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 em-
barkation 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 side arms ; all private
property to be retained, and the public delivered upon honor ; no
baggage to oe searched or molested ; all persons, of whatever coun-
try, 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.
Assuredly, these conditions were very honorable for the British
army, considering its ruined state and .irretrievable circumstances ;
but it obtained still more from the magnanimity of general Gates.
From tenderness towards the feelings of the vanquished, he ordered
his army to retire within their lines, that they might not witness the
shame of the English, when they piled their arms.
This conduct demonstrated not only the humanity but the clem-
22 THE AMERICAN WAR. BOOK. IX.
ency and elevation of character which distinguished the American
general ; for he was already informed of the horrible ravages recently
committed, by general Vaughan, upon the right bank of the Hudson,
where, imitating the usages of barbarians, he had laid in ashes, and
utterly destroyed the fine village of JEsopus. It is our duty not to
pass without mention, that while Gates, in the whole course of this
campaign upon the Hudson, displayed all the talents which constitute
m able and valiant general, he proved himself not to want any of
those qualities which characterize a benevolent and generous heart.
Humane towards all whom the fortune of war had thrown into his
hands, he was eminently attentive to those who were sick, and suf-
fered them to want for no succor within his power to administer.
The day of the capitulation, the American army amounted to
near fifteen thousand men, of whom about ten thousand were regular
troops ; the English army 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 English.
^The Americans acquired a fine train of brass artillery, amounting
to forty-two pieces of different sorts and sizes, four thousand six
hundred muskets, an immense quantity of cartridges, bombs, balls,
and other implements of war.
Such was the fate of the British expedition upon the banks of the
Hudson. It had been undertaken with singular confidence of success,
but the obstacles proved so formidable that those who had expected
from it such brilliant results, were themselves its victims ; and those
it had alarmed at first, derived from it the most important advantages.
There can be no doubt, that, if it was planned with ability, as to us
it appears to have been, it was conducted with imprudence by those
who were intrusted with its execution. For it is to be remarked,
that its success depended entirely on the combined efforts of the
generals who commanded upon the lakes, and of those who had the
management of the war in the state of New York. But far from
moving in concert, when one advanced, the other retired. When
Carleton had obtained the command of the lakes, Howe, instead of
ascending the Hudson, towards Albany, carried his arms into New
Jersey, and advanced upon the Delaware. When, afterwards, Bur-
goyne entered Ticonderoga in triumph, Howe embarked upon the
expedition against Philadelphia ; and thus the army of Canada was
deprived of the assistance it expected from New York.
Perhaps Howe imagined that the reduction of such a city as Phil-
adelphia, would so confound the Americans, and so derange their
plans, that they would either immediately submit, or make but a
feeble resistance. Perhaps, also, he believed, that by attacking the
BOOK IX THE AMERICAN WAR. 23
center, and as it were, the very heart of the confederation, he
effected the most useful diversion in favc r of the army of the north,
thereby depriving the Americans of the ability to oppose it with a
sufficient force upon the Hudson. Finally, it is not impossible, that,
listening to his ambition, he had flattered himself that with his own
means alone he could acquire the exclusive glory of having put an
end to the war. But whatever might have been the importance of
the acquisition of Philadelphia, every one must readily perceive how
mucli greater was that of the junction at Albany, of the two armies
of Canada and of New York. It was very doubtful whether the
conquest of a single city could decide the issue of the war ; whereas
the juncture of the armies, offered almost au assurance of it. It
should also be considered that the Americans, in order to prevent
this junction, would have risked a pitched battle, the success of
which could scarcely be doubtful, and which could have formed no
obstacle to the eventual union. Besides, when two armies have the
same object in view, is it not evident that they can operate with more
concert and effect, when they are near to each other, than while
remotely separated ? We may therefore consider this expedition as
having been wisely calculated in its design, and even in the means
of execution, if we except that scourge of the savages, which must
be imputed to the British ministers. Bating this fault, they did not,
in our opinion, deserve the reproaches with which they were loaded,
as well in parliament as by the writers of the opposite party. Per-
haps also they erred in this, that having too great confidence in the
reputation, rank, and military experience of sir William Howe, they
neglected to send him more precise instructions. For it appears
from the best information we have found upon this subject, that the
orders given to that general in regard to his co-operation with the
army of Canada, were rather discretionary than absolute ; but all
the ruin of the enterprise is clearly attributable to this want of co-
operation. Gates, after the victory, immediately dispatched colon A
Wilkinson to carry the happy tidings to congress. On being intro-
duced into the hall, he 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.' The congress voted thanks to
general Gates and his army. They decreed that he should be pre-
sented with a medal of gold, to be struck expressly in commemora-
tion of so glorious a victory. On one side of it was the bust of the
general, with these words around; Horatio Gates, Duct strcnuo ;
and in the middle, Comitia Americana. On the reverse, Burgoyne
was represented in the attitude of delivering his sword ; and in the
24 THE AMERICAN WAR. BOOK IX.
back ground, on the one side and on the other, were seen the two
armies of England and of America. At the top were these words ;
Salum regionum septentrion ; and at the foot, Hoste ad Saratogom
in deditione accepto. Die XVII Oct. MD CCLXXVIL It would
be difficult to describe the transports of joy which the news of this
event excited among the Americans. They began to flatter them-
selves with a still more happy future ; no one any longer entertained
a doubt of independence. All hoped, and not without much reason,
that a success of this importance would at length determine France,
and the other European powers that waited for her example, to de-
clare themselves in favor of America. There could no longer be any
question respecting the future ; all danger had ceased of espousing
the cause of a people too feeble to defend themselves.
While Burgoyne found himself in the most critical situation, Clin-
ton, in the beginning of October, had embarked at New York, with
about three thousand men, upon his expedition up the Hudson, for
his relief. The Americans, commanded by general Putnam, occu-
pied the steep mountains between which this river flows with rapidity,
and which begin to rise in the vicinity of Peek's Kill. In addition
to the natural strength of the places in the midst of these mountains,
the banks of the Hudson being almost inaccessible, the Americans
had secured the passages in divers modes. About six miles above
Peek's Kill, upon the western bank, they had two forts, called the
one Montgomery, and the other Clinton, separated only by a torrent,
which, gushing from the neighboring heights, falls into the river.
Their situation, upon heights so precipitous that it was impossible
to climb them, entirely commanded the course of the Hudson. There
was no other way by which the enemy could approach them, but that
of penetrating into the mountains a little below, towards Stony Point
and marching through narrow and difficult paths. But such were
these defiles that if they had been suitably guarded, it would have
bc?n not only dangerous, but absolutely impracticable to thread them.
To prevent the enemy from passing above the forts by water, che-
vaux-de-frize were sunken in the river, and a boom extended from
bank to bank. This boom was covered by an immense chain, stretch-
ed at some distance in its front. These works were remarkable for
their perfection, and had been executed with equal industry and dif-
ficulty. They were defended by the artillery of the forts, by a frig-
ate and by several galleys, stationed a little above the boom. Such
were the fortifications which the Americans had constructed upon
the right bank, and nvcn in the bed of the Hudson, in order to secure
these passages, which had been the object of their solicitude from
the commencement of hostilities; they being in effect the most dclensi-
BOOK IX.
THE AMERICAN WAR. 25
blc barriers against a descent of the enemy from Canada. Upon the
left bank, on a high point of land, four or five miles below Forts
Montgomery and Clinton, they had erected a fort to which they gave
the name of Independence^ and another called Constitution, about
six miles above the same forts, on an island near the eastern shore.
They had also there interrupted the navigation of the river by che
vaux-de-frize and a boom.
General Putnam guarded these different passages with a corps of
six hundred regular troops, and some militia, of whom the number
was uncertain. An American officer, named Clinton, commanded
in the forts.
The British general knew perfectly well that to attack Forts Clin-
ton and Montgomery in front, would have been a vain attempt. He
therefore formed the design of marching to the assault upon their
rear, by the defiles which commence near Stony Point. But in order
to divert the Americans from the thought of re-inforcing the garri-
sons, he resolved to make such motions upon the left bank, as should
alarm them for the safety of Fort Independence. On the fifth of
October he landed all his troops at Verplank's Point, a little below
Peek's Kill, where general Putnam had established his head quar-
ters. Putnam immediately retired to the strong heights in his rear.
The English, having re-embarked the greater part of their troops in
the night, landed by break of day upon the right bank, at Stony
Point; without loss of time they eptered the .defiles, and marched
towards the forts. In the meantime, the manreuvres of the vessels,
and the appearance of the small detachment left at Verplank's Point,
persuaded Putnam that the enemy meditated an attack on Fort Inde-
pendence. The English during this interval were making the best
of their way through the mountains. Governor Clinton had not dis-
covered their approach till very late. They appeared before the two
forts at nearly the same time, and having without difficulty repulsed
the advanced parties which had been sent out to retard them, they
furiously began their attack. Their ships of war had also now made
their appearance, and supported them with a near fire. The Amer-
icans, though surprised, defended themselves with courage for a
considerable length of time ; but at length, unable to sustain the
reiterated efforts of the assailants, and too feeble to man their fortifi-
cations sufficiently, after a severe loss in killed and wounded, they
retired.
Those who knew the ground, among whom was governor Clinton,
escaped. The slaughter was, however, great, the English being irri-
tated by the opposition they met, and by the loss of some favorite
officers. The Americans set fire to their frigates and galleys, which,
26 THE AMERICAN WAR. BOOK IX.
with their stores and ammunition, were all consumed ; but the Eng-
lish got possession of the boom and chain.
In a day or two after, Forts Independence and Constitution, upon
the approach of the enemy with his land and naval forces, were set
on fire and evacuated by their defenders. Tryon was sent on the
ninth, at the head of a detachment, to destroy a thriving settlement,
called Continental Village, where the republicans had deposited a
great quantity of stores.
Thus fell into the power of the English these important passages of
the mountains of the Hudson, which the Americans had labored to
defend by every mode of fortification. They were justly considered
as the keys of the county of Albany. It is therefore evident, that if
the royalists had been more numerous, they might have extended an
efficacious succor to the army of*tJurgoyne, and, perhaps, decided
in their favor the final issue of the northern war. But they could not
take part in it, as well because they were much too weak, as that
Putnam, whose army was now increased by the militia of Connecti-
cut, New York, and New Jersey, to six thousand men, menaced
them both in front and rear.
Unable to conquer, the English set themselves to sack the country
The thirteenth of October, sir James Wallace, with a flying squad-
ron of light frigates, and general Vaughan, with a considerable de-
tachment of troops, made an excursion up the river, carrying slaughter
and destruction wherever they^vent ; a barbarity of conduct the
more execrable, as it was not justified by the least necessity or utility.
They marched to a rich and flourishing village, called Kingston, or
^Esopus, upon the western bank of the river ; having driven the re-
publicans out of it by a furious cannonade, they set fire to it on every
side. All was consumed ; not a house was left standing. Exten-
sive magazines of provisions and military stores were also consign-
ed to the flames. In order to justify these atrocities, it was alledged
by Vaughan that the Americans had fired through the windows ; a
fact which they denied with greater probability of truth. For it ap-
pears that they evacuated the town as soon as they saw the royal
troops were disembarked upon the neighboring shore. The English
comnnued these excesses at the very time that Burgoyne was receiv-
ing from general Gates the most honorable conditions for himself
and a ruined army.
The American wrote Vaughan a letter full of energy and just in-
dignation ; he complained in sharp terms of the burning of JEsopus,
and of the horrible devastations committed upon the two banks of •
the Hudson. He concluded with saying : ' Is it thus that the gene-
rals of the king expect to make converts to the royal cause ? Their
BOOK IX. THE AMERICAN WAR. 27
cruelties operate a contrary effect ; independence is founded upon
the universal disgust of the people. The fortune of war has deliver-
ed into my hands older and abler generals than general Vaughan is
reputed to be ; their condition may one day become his, and then
no human power can save him from the just vengeance of an of-
fended people.'
But Vaughan and Wallace, having heard that Gates was marching
rapidly upon them, resolved not to wait his approach. Having dis-
mantled the forts, and carrying off their booty, they retired from
this quarter, and uniting with the remainder of the troops of Clinton,
returned with no ordinary speed to New York.
Upon the whole, the loss which the United States sustained from
this expedition of the English upon the banks of the Hudson, was
extremely severe ; for it being universally believed that these elevated
and precipitous places were absolutely inaccessible to the fury of the
enemy, the Americans had deposited there an immense quantity of
arms, ammunition and stores of all sorts.
The artillery lost, including that of the forts, and that of the ves-
sels destroyed or taken, amounted to more than a hundred pieces oi
different sizes. To which must be added, fifteen or twenty thou-
sand pounds of powder, balls in proportion, and all the implements
necessary to the daily service of the artillery.
Meanwhile, the captive army was marched towards Boston. On
its departure from Saratoga, it passed in the^nidst of the ranks of
the victorious troops, who were formed in order of battlifor this pur-
pose along the road and upon the hills which border the two sides of
it. The English expected to be scoffed at and insulted. Not an
American uttered a syllable ; a memorable example of moderation
and military discipline ! The prisoners, particularly those incorrigi-
ble Germans, ravaged whatever they could lay their hands on during
the march ; the inhabitants could judge by what they did, being van-
quished, of what they would have done, had they been victors.
They arrived at Boston, and were lodged in the barracks of Cam-
bridge. The inhabitants held them in abhorrence ; they could not
forget the burning of Charlestown, and the late devastations.
Burgoyne, after the capitulation, experienced the most courteous
attentions on the part of the American generals. Gates invited him
to his table ; he appeared silent and dejected. The conversation
was guarded, and to spare his feelings nothing was said of the late
events ; only he was asked how he could find in his heart to burn
the houses of poor people. He answered that such were his orders,
and that, besides, he was authorized to do it by the laws of war.
Certain individuals in New England, without delicacy us without
28 THE AMERICAN WAR. BOOK IX.
reserve, loaded him with insults. But this was confined to the popu-
lace. Well educated men treated him with marked civility. Gene-
ral Schuyler, among others, politely dispatched an aid-de-camp, to
accompany him to Albany. He lodged him in his own house, where
his wife received him in the most flattering manner. Yet Burgoyne,
in the neighborhood of Saratoga, where Schuyler possessed exten-
sive estates, had devoted to the flames his magnificent villa, with its
movables and dependencies, valued at more than thirty-seven thou-
sand dollars. At Boston, Burgoyne was likewise lodged in the habi-
tation of general Heath, who commanded in Massachusetts ; he there
wanted for no attention. He walked at his pleasure through the
city, without ever having found occasion to complain of outrage.
But the other officers did not experience the same reception ; the
Bostonians would not lodge them in their houses, and therefore it
became necessary to distribute them in the barracks. Burgoyne
complained of it, at first, to general Heath, and afterwards to Gates.
He insisted that a treatment of his officers so little conformable to
their rank, was a violation of the convention of Saratoga. More-
over, fearing that tl|e season, already advanced, might not permit
the transports to arrive soon enough at Boston, where the embarka-
tion was appointed by the capitulation, he requested Washington to
consent that it should take place at Newport, in Rhode Island, or
at some other port of the Sound. Washington, not thinking him-
self authorized to decide upon this request, submitted it to the de-
termination & congress. That body was much displeased at this
verbal discussion, and especially at the imputation of a breach of
faith ; apprehertding it might be a pretext which Burgoyne was in-
clined to use for not keeping his own.
It appeared, besides, to the congress, thpt the vessels assembled
at Boston for the transport of the troops, were neither sufficient for
so great a number, nor furnished with provisions enough for so long
a voyage. Finally, they observed that the English had not strictly
fulfilled the stipulation in respect to the surrender of arms, as they
had retairied their cartridge boxes, and other effects, which, if not
actually arms, are of indispensable use to those who bear them.
Gates undertook to justify the English upon this point, and with
complete success. But the congress had need of a quarrel, and
therefore sought the grounds. They wished to retard the embarka-
tion of the prisoners, under the apprehension that, in defiance of
treaties, they would go to join general Howe, or at least, that arriving
too early in England, the' government would be able to fill their
place immediately by an equal number in America. They decreed,
therefore, that general Burgoyne should furnish the rolls of his army,
BOOK IX.
THE AMERICAN WAR. 29
that a list might be taken of the name and rank of every commis-
sioned officer ; with the name, former place of abode, occupation,
size, age and description of every non-commissioned officer and pri-
vate soldier. •
Burgoyne considered this demand extraordinary, and therefore
resorted to various subterfuges in order to evade compliance. Gen-
eral Howe, on his part, proceeded with much subtilty and illiberality
in the exchange of prisoners ; and thus the discontents and suspicions
were continually increased.
The ambiguous conduct of each of these generals alarmed the
congress exceedingly ; they decreed, therefore, that the embarkation
of Burgoyne and all the captive troops should be suspended, until
a distinct and explicit ratification of the convention of Saratoga should
be properly notified to congress by the court of Great Britain. At
the same time they sent directions to general Heath, to order any
vessels which might have arrived, or which should arrive, for the
transportation of the army, to quit the port of Boston without delay.
An additional force was also provided to guard the British army.
Burgoyne then addressed a letter to congress, in which he endeavored
to justify his conduct ; he protested that he had never thought him-
self released from the conditions of the convention of Saratoga, and
affirmed that all his officers individually were ready to give- their
written promise to observe all the articles of that capitulation.
All was in vain ; congress was inflexible ; and the prisoners had to
make up their minds to remain in America. This decision they took
in great dudgeon ; and it served as a pretext for the partisans of the
ministry to charge the Americans with perfidy. We shall not under-
take to decide whether the fears manifested by congress had a real
foundation ; and we shall abstain as well from blaming thejmprudence
of Burgoyne, as from praising the wisdom, or condemning the distrust
of the congress.
It is but too certain that in these civil dissensions and animosities,
appearances become realities, and probabilities demonstration. Ac-
cordingly, at that time, the Americans complained bitterly of British
perfidy, and the English of American want of faith.
Finding that he could obtain nothing for others, Burgoyne solicit-
ed for himself, and easily got permission to roturn to England. As
soon as he was arrived in London, he began to dSfclaim with virulence
against those ministers, whose favor a little before he had used every
means to captivate, and who had given him, to the prejudice of a
general approved by long services, an opportunity to distinguish his
name 1ly a glorious enterprise. Burgoyne wanted neither an active
genius nor mi.itary science and experience ; but formed in the wars
30
THE AMERICAN WAR. BOOK IX.
of Germany, his movements were made with caution, and extreme
deliberation, and never till all circumstances united to favor them.
He would, upon no consideration, have attacked an enemy, until the
minutest precepts of the militafy art had all been faithfully observed
This was »tally mistaking the nature- of the American war, which
required TO J)e carried on with vigor and spirit. In a region like
.America, broken by so many defiles and fastnesses, against an ene-
my so able to profit of them, by scouring the country, by preparing
ambuscades, by intercepting convoys and retreats, the celerity which
might involve a transient peril, was assuredly preferable to the slow-
ness which, under its apparent security, concealed a fulute and in-
evitable danger.
This general lost the opportunity to conquer, because he would
never run the risk of defeat ; and as he would put nothing in the
power of fortune, she seemed to have thought him unworthy ol her
favors. Moreover, the employment of savages in the wars of civilized
nations, was never the source of durable success ; nor was it ever
the practice of prudent generals to provoke the enemy by threats,
or to exasperate him by ravages and conflagrations.
While these events were passing in the north, admiral and general
al Howe were at sea, undecided whether to enter the Delaware, or
to take the route of the Chesapeake bay, in order to march against
Philadelphia. Washington continued in New Jersey, prepared to
defend the passages of the Hudson, if the British army should have
taken that direction, or to cover Philadelphia, should it threaten that
city. But while waiting for certain information respecting the move-
ments and plans of the British generals, he neglected none of those
measures which were proper to place his army in a situation to resist
the storm that was about to burst upon it. He collected arms and
ammunition, called out the militia of the neighboring provinces, and
ordered to join him all the regnwents of regular troops that were not
necessary for the defense of the Hudson. These different corps
were continually exercised in arms and military evolutions ; wherein
they derived great 'ad vantage from the example and instructions of
the French officers who had recently entered the service of the
United States. Among these, the splendor of rank, added to the
Fascination of his personal qualities, eminently distinguished the mar-
quis de la Fayette. Animated by the enthusiasm which generous
minds are wont to feel for great enterprises, he espoused the cause
of the Americans with a partiality common to almost all the men of
that time, and particularly to the French. He considered it not only
just, but exalted and sacred ; the affection he bore it was me more
ardent, as independently of the candor of his character, he was of that
BOOK IX.
THE AMERICAN WAR. 31
age, not exceeding nineteen years, in which good appears not only
good, but fair, and man not only loves, but is enamored. Inflamed
with desire to take part in events which were echoed by all Europe,
he had communicated, about the close of 1776, to the American com-
missioners his intention of repairing to America ; they had encouraged
him in that resolution. But when they were informed of the
reverses of New Jersey, compelled almost to despair of the success
of the revolution, they, with honorable sincerity, endeavored to dis-
suade him from it. They even declared to him that their affairs
were so deranged by this unhappy news, that they were not able to
charter a vessel for his passage to America. It is said the gallant
youth replied, that it was then precisely the moment to serve their
cause ; that the more people were discouraged, the greater utility
would result from his departure, and that if they could not furnish
him with a ship, he would freight one at his own expense to convey
himself and their dispatches to America. And as he said, he also
did. The people were astonished, and much conversation was
excited by this determination on the part of so illustrious a personage.
The court of France, either to Save appearances, and avoid giving
ibrage to England, or being really displeased at this departure,
forbade La Fayette to embark. It is even asserted, that ships were
dispatched with orders to arrest him in the waters of the West
Indies. Tearing himself, however, from the arms of his beloved
wife, who was in all the bloom of youth, he put to sea, and steering
wide of those islands-, arrived in Georgetown. The congress omitted
none of those demonstrations which could persuade the young
Frenchman, and all the American people, in what esteem they held
his person, and how much they felt, "the sacrifices he had made, and
the dangers to which he had exposed himself, and was still exposed,
for being come to offer his support to the tottering cause of America.
Touched by this flattering reception, he promised to exej| him-
self to the utmost of his knowledge and ability ; but requested per-
mission to serve at first only as a volunteer, and at his own expense.
This generosity and modesty of the rnarquis de la Fayette, delighted
the Americans the more, as same of the French who had entered
their service were never to be satisfied in the articles either of pay,
or of rank. It was Silas Deane who had encouraged these exorbi-
tant expectations, by entering in France into such engagements with
those officers, as could not be confirmed in America. This conduct
had greatly displeased the congress, and was what chiefly determin-
ed themOo send him, soon after, a successor in the person of John
Adams^^The congress decreed, that * whereas tRe marquis de la
Fayette, out of his great zeal to the cause of liberty in which the
32 THE AMERICAN WAR. BOOK IX.
United States were engaged, had left his family and connections,
and at his own expense come over to offer his services without pen-
sion or particular allowance, and was anxious to risk his life in their
defense, they accepted his services ; and that in consideration of
his zeal, illustrious family and connections, he was invested with the
rank of major-general in the army of the United States.' The mar-
quis, having repaired to the camp, was received with consideration
by general Washington, and soon there was established between
them that warm friendship which subsisted until the death of the
American general.
The A'nerican army was at this time strong in number ; it amount-
ed, including, however, the militia, little accustomed to regular battle,
to fifteen thousand men. It was full of confidence in its chiefs ; and
animated by their example and exhortations. The news was then
received that the British fleet was in sight of Gape May, at the
mouth of the Delaware, steering eastward. Washington immediately
conceived some alarm for the banks of the Hudson, which he had
always watched with care from the commencement of the war. He
ordered the troops that were to come from Peek's Kill to join him
in New Jersey, not to move ; and those who were already on
march, to halt in their positions.
The seventh of August, the British squadron was perceived anew
at the entrance of the Delaware ; but it disappeared a little after,
and was n»t heard of again for several days. The commander-in-
chief could not penetrate the design of the enemy ; still in doubt, he
continued stationary, not knowing where the tempest was to strike.
But after a certain lapse of time, even the length of delay led him to
suspect that the views of Howe were by no means directed towards
the Hudson ; for the winds having prevailed for a long time from
the soudi, if such had been his intention, he would already have been
arrived at tb» dotinrd spot. Washington was therefore inclined to
belie v^that the English meditated an expedition against some part
of the southern provinces. He felt indeed some solicitude fo^the
bay of Chesapeake ; but, as it was at no great distance from the
mouths of the Delaware, the enemy flught already to have made his
appearance there. Upon these considerations, he more feared for
the safety of Charleston, South Carolina ; but even if so, he was
unable to arrive in time to the relief of that city. Besides, that
country was naturally unhealthy, and especially at the present
season.
There was also danger that Howe might re-embark his troops,
and make a sudden push against Philadelphia, which, in tj^pbsence
of the army, must inevitably fall into his power. It therefore appear-
BOOK IX.
THE AMERICAN WAR. 33
ed much more prudent to maintain a position which admitted of
watching over Pennsylvania, and to leave the Carolinas with their
own means only to defend themselves as well as they could against
the invasions of the enemy. But in order to compensate the losses
which might perhaps ensue in that quarter, Washington resolved to
march with all his troops towards the Hudson, to be ready to turn
his arms according to circumstances, either against Burgoyne to-
wards Fort Edward, or against Clinton towards New York, 4 then
divested of the greater part of its defenders.
He had scarcely formed this determination, when he was informed
that the enemy had appeared with all his forces in the Chesapeake.
This intelligence put an end to all his uncertainties, and he then saw
distinctly the course he had to pursue. He dispatched orders to
all the detached corps to join him by forced marches in the environs
of Philadelphia, for the purpose of proceeding thence, to the head of
the Chesapeake. The militia of Pennsylvania, Maryland, Delaware,
and the northern parts of Virginia, were ordered to take arms and
repair to the principal army.
While these preparations were making on the part of the Ameri-
cans, the English fleet entered with full sails into the Chesapeake
bay, and profiting of a favorable wind, proceeded as far up as the
point called Elk Head. From the time of its departure from Sandy
Hook, this squadron had experienced the most contrary winds, and
had been more than a week in doubling the capes of Delaware. The
English generals were there informed that the Americans had so
effectually obstructed the navigation of that river, that it would be
equally dangerous and fruitless to attempt the passage up to Phila-
delphia.
Though some persons maintain that they might easily have disem-
barked at Wilmington, whence there was an excellent road leading
directly to that city. However this was, they preferred to proceed
further south, and to sail up the Chesapeake bay as far as that parj,
of Maryland which borders on Pennsylvania, and is at no great dis-
tance from Philadelphia. But in the passage from the Delaware to
the Chesapeake, the winds were so constantly unfavorable that they
could not enter the bay till towards the last of August. This delay
was excessively prejudicial to the English army ; the troops being
cro\\ ded into the vessels along with the horses and ail the baggage,
in the midst of the hottest season of the year. The health of the
soldiers would have suffered still more, if the generals had not taken
the precaution to put on board a large stock of fresli provisions and
a copioi^^apply of water. The sea became more propitious in the
Chesapeake, and the squadron soon gained the coasts of Maiyland.
VOL. II. 3
34 THE AMERICAN WAR. BOOK IX.
Thus the two armies advanced, each towards the other, amidst the
anxious expectation of the American people.
About this time an expedition was undertaken by general Sullivan,
against Staten Island, the commencement of which had created hopes
of a more happy termination. He landed without opposition, and
took many prisoners, but was afterwards repulsed with heavy loss.
He then rapidly retired towards Philadelphia. On the twenty-fifth
of August, the British army, eighteen thousand strong, was disem-
barked not far from the head of the river Elk. It was plentifully
furnished with all the equipage of war, excepting the defect of
horses, as well for the cavalry as for the baggage. The scarcity of
forage had caused many of them to perish the preceding winter, and
a considerable number had died also in the late passage.
This was a serious disadvantage for the royal troops ; who, in the
vast plains of Pennsylvania, might have employed cavalry with sin-
gular effect. On the twenty-seventh, the English vanguard arrived
at the head of the Elk, and the day following at Gray's Hill. Here
it was afterwards joined by the rear guard under general Knyphausen,
who had been left upon the coast to cover the debarkation of the
stores and artillery. .<^,
The whole army took post behind the river Christiana, having^
Newark upon the right, and Pencada or Atkins on the left. A
column commanded by lord Cornwallis, having fallen in with Max-
well's riflemen, routed and pursued them as far as the further side of
White Clay Creek, with the loss of some dead and wounded.
The American army, in order to encourage the partisans of inde-
pendence and overawe the disaffected, marched through the city of
Philadelphia ; it afterwards advanced towards the enemy, and en-
camped behind White Clay Creek. A little after, leaving only the
riflemen in the camp, Washington retired with the main body of his
army behind the Red Clay Creek, occupying with his right wing
the town of Newport, situated near the Christiana, and upon the
great road to Philadelphia ; his left was at Hockesen. But this line
was little capable of defense.
The enemy, re-inforced by the rear guard under general Grant,
threatened with his right the center of the Americans, extended his
left as if with the intention of turning their right flank. Washington
saw the danger, and retired with his troops behind the Brandywme ;
he encamped on the rising grounds which extend from Chadsford.in
the direction of northwest to southeast. The riflemen of Maxwell
scoured the right bank of the Brandy wine, in order to harass and
retard the enemy. The militia under the command of g|^^al Arm-
strong, guarded a passage below the principal enoampmenTof Wash-
BOOK IX. THE AMERICAN WAR. 35
ington, and the right wing lined the banks of the river higher up,
where the passages were most difficult. The passage of Chadsford,
as the most practicable of all, was defended by the chief force of the
army. The troops being thus disposed, the American general wait-
ed the approach of the English. Although the Brandy wine,- being
fordable almost every where, could not serve as a sufficient defense
against the impetuosity of the enemy, yet Washington had taken
post upon its banks, from a conviction that a battle was now inevita-
ble, and that Philadelphia could only be saved by a victory. Gene-
ral Howe displayed the front of his army, but not, however, without
great circumspection. Being arrived at Kennen Square, a short dis-
tance from the river, he detached his light horse to the right upon
Wilmington, to the left upon the Lancaster road, and in front to-
wards Chadsford. The two armies found themselves within seven
miles of each other, the Brandywine flowing between them.
Early in the morning of the eleventh of September, the British
army marched to the enemy. Howe had formed his army in two
columns ; the right commanded by general Knyphausen, the left by
lord Cornwallis. His plan was, that while the first should make
repeated feints to attempt the passage of Chadsford, in order to
occupy the attention of the republicans, the second should take a
long circuit to the upper part of the river, and cross at a place where
it is divided into two shallow streams. The English marksmen fell
in with those of Maxwell, and a smart skirmish was immediately
engaged. The latter were at first repulsed ; but being re-inforced
from the camp, they compelled the English to retire in their turn.
But at length, they also were re-inforced, and Maxwell was con-
strained to withdraw his detachment behind the river. Meanwhile,
Knyphausen advanced with his tolumn, and commenced a furious
cannonade upon the passage of Chadsford, making all his dispositions
as if he intended to force it. The Americans defended themselves
with gallantry, and even passed several detachments of light troops
to the other side, in order to harass the enemy's flanks. But after a
course of skirmishes, sometimes advancing, and at others obliged to
retire, they were finally, with an eager pursuit, driven over the river.
Knyphausen then appeared more than ever determined to pass the
ford ; he stormed, and kept up an incredible noise. In this manner
the attention of the Americans was fully occupied in the neighbor-
hood of Chadsford. Meanwhile, lord Cornwallis, at the head of the
second column, took a circuitous march to the left, and gained un-
perceived the forks of the Brandywine. By this rapid movement,
he paseeAboth branches of the river at Trimble's and at Jeffery's
Fords, without opposition, about two o'clock in the afternoon, and
36 THE AMERICAN WAR. BOOK IX.
then turning short down the river, took the road to Dilworth, in order
to fall upon the right flank of the American army. The republican
general, however, received intelligence of this movement about noon,
and, as it usually happens in similar cases, the reports exaggerated
its importance exceedingly ; it being represented that general Howe
commanded this division in person. Washington therefore decided
immediately for the most judicious, though boldest measure ; this
was to pass the river with the center and left wing of his army, and
overwhelm Knyphausen by the most furious attack. He justly re-
flected that the advantage he should obtain upon the enemy's right,
would amply compensate the loss that his own might sustain at the
same time. Accordingly, he ordered general Sullivan to pass the
Brandy wine with his division at an upper ford, and attack the left of
Knyphausen, while he, in person, should cross lower down, and fall
upon the right of that general.
They were both already in motion in order to execute this design,
when a second report arrived, which represented what had really
taken place as false, or in other words, that the enemy had not
crossed the tw o branches of the river, and that he had not made his
appearance upon the right flank of the American troops. Deceived
by this false intelligence, Washington desisted ; and Greene, who had
already passed with the vanguard, was ordered back. In the midst
of these uncertainties, the commander-in-chief at length received
the positive assurance, not only that the English had appeared upon
the left bank, but also that they were about to fall in great force
upon the right wing. It was composed of the brigades of generals
Stephens, Sterling, and Sullivan ; the first was the most advanced,
and consequently the nearest to the English ; the two others were
posted in the order of their rank, that of Sullivan being next to the
center^ This general was immediately detached from the main body,
to support the two former brigades, and, being the senior officer,
took the command of the whole wing. Washington himself, fol-
lowed by general Greene, approached with two strong divisions to-
wards this wing, and posted himself between it and the corps he had
left at Chadsford, under general Wayne, to oppose the passage of
Knyphausen. These two divisions, under the immediate orders of
the commander-in-chief, served as a corps of reserve, ready to march,
according to circumstances, to the succor of Sullivan or of Wayne.
But the column of Cornwallis was already in sight of the Ameri-
cans. Sullivan drew up his troops on the commanding ground above
Birmingham meeting-house, with his left extending towards the
Brandywine, and both his flanks covered with very tlyck woods
His artillery was advantageously planted upon the neighboring hills ;
BOOK IX. THE AMERICAN WAR. 37
but it appears that Sullivan's own brigade, having taken a long cir-
cuit, arrived too late upon the field of battle, and had not yet occu-
pied the position assigned it, when the action commenced. The
English, having reconnoitered the dispositions of the Americans, im-
mediately formed, and fell upon them with the utmost impetuosity.
The engagement became equally fierce on both sides about four
o'clock in the afternoon. For some length of time the Americans
defended themselves with great valor, and the carnage was terrible.
But such was the emulation which invigorated the efforts of the
English and Hessians, that neither the advantages of situation, nor a
heavy and well supported fire of small arms and artillery, nor the
unshaken courage of the Americans, were able to resist their impet-
uosity. The light infantry, chasseurs, grenadiers, and guards, threw
themselves with such fury into the midst of the republican battalions,
that they were forced to give way. Their left flank was first thrown
into confusion, but the rout soon became general. The vanquished
fled into the woods in their rear ; the victors pursued, and advanced
by the great road towards Dil worth. On the first fire of the artille-
ry, Washington, having no doubt of what was passing, had pushed
forward the reserve to the succor of Sullivan. JBut this corps, on
approaching the field of battle, fell in with tUj^H&g soldiers of Sul-
livan, and perceived that no hope remained or Retrieving the fortune
of the day. General Greene, by a judicious maneuver, opened his
ranks to receive the fugitives, and after their passage, having closed
them anew, he retired in good order ; checking the pursuit of the
enemy by a continual fire of the artillery which covered his rear.
Having come to a defile, covered on both sides with woods, he drew
up his men there, and again faced the enemy. His corps was com-
posed of Virginians and Pennsylvanians ; they defended themselves
with gallantry ; the former, especially, commanded by colonel Ste-
phens, made an heroic stand.
Kn yphausen, finding the Americans to be fully engaged on their
right, and observing that the corps opposed to him at Chadsford was
enfeebled by the troops which had been detached to the succor of
Sullivan, began to make dispositions for crossing the river in reality.
The passage of Chadsford was defended by an intrenchment and
battery. The republicans stood firm at first ; but upon intelligence
of the defeat of their right, and seeing some of the British troops
who had penetrated through the woods, come out upon their flank,
they retired in disorder, abandoning their artillery and munitions to
the German general. In their retreat, or rather flight, they passed
behind the position of general Greene, who still defended himself,
and was the last to quit the field of battle. Finally, it being already
38 THE AMERICAN WAR. BOOK IX.
dark, after a long and obstinate conflict, he also retired. The whole
army retreated that night to Chester, and the day following to
Philadelphia.
There the fugitives arrived incessantly, having effected their
escape through by-ways and circuitous routes. The victors passed
the night on the field of battle. If darkness had not arrived season-
ably, it is very probable that the whole American army would have
been destroyed. The loss of the republicans was computed at about
three hundred killed, six hundred wounded, and near four hundred
taken prisoners. They also lost ten field pieces and a howitzer.
The loss in the royal army was not in proportion, being something
under five hundred, of which the slain did not amount to one fifth.
The French officers were of great utility to the Americans, as
well in forming the troops, as in rallying them when thrown into
confusion. One of them, the baron St. Ovary, was made a pris-
oner, to the great regret of congress, who bore him a particular esteem.
Captain de Flury had a horse killed under him in the hottest of the
action. The congress gave him another a few days after. The
marquis de la Fayette, while he was endeavoring, by his words and
example, to rally the fugitives, was wounded in the leg. He con-
tinued, nevertheless, to fulfil his duty both as a soldier in fighting,
and as a general, in cheering the troops and re-establishing order.
The count Pulaski, a noble Pole, also displayed an undaunted
courage, at the head of the light horse. The congress manifested
their sense of his merit by giving him, shortly after, the rank of brig-
adier and the command of the cavalry.
If all the American troops in the action of the Brandy wine had
fought with the same intrepidity as the Virginians and Pennsyl vanians,
and especially if Washington had not been led into error by a false
report, perhaps, notwithstanding the inferiority of number and the im-
perfection of arms, he would have gained the victory, or, at least,
would have made it more sanguinary to the English. However this
might have been, it must be admitted that general Howe's order of
battle was excellent ; that his movements were executed with as
much ability as promptitude ; and that his troops, English as well as
German, behaved admirably well.
The day after the battle, towards evening, the English dispatched
a detachment of light troops to Wilmington, a place situated at the
confluence of the Christiana and the Brandy wine. There they took
prisoner the governor of the state of Delaware, and seized a consid-
erable quantity of coined money, as well as other property, both public
and private, and some papers of importance.
The other towns of lower Pennsylvania followed the fortune of
BOOK IX. THE AMERICAN WAR. 39
the victorious party ; they were all received into the king's obedi-
ence.
The congress, far from being discouraged by so heavy a reverse,
endeavored, on the contrary, to persuade the people that it was by
no means so decisive, but that affairs might soon resume a favorable
aspect. They gave out, that though the English had remained in
possession of the field of battle, yet their victory was far from being
complete, since their loss was not less, and perhaps greater, than that
of the Americans. They affirmed, that although their army was in
part dispersed,' still it was safe ; and, in a few days, would be rallied,
and in a condition to meet the enemy. Finally, that bold demon-
strations might inspire that confidence which, perhaps, words alone
would not have produced, the congress appeared to have no idea of
quitting Philadelphia. They ordered that fifteen hundred regulars
should be marched to that city from Peek's Kill ; that the militia of
New Jersey, with those of Philadelphia, the brigade of general Small-
wood, and a regiment of the line, then at Alexandria, should proceed
with all possible dispatch to re-inforce the principal army in Pennsyl-
vania. They empowered general Washington to impress all wagons,
horses, provisions, and other articles necessary for the use of the army,
on giving certificates to the owners, who were to be satisfied from
the continental treasury. The commander-in-chief exerted himself
to inspire his troops with fresh courage ; he persuaded them that they
had not shown themselves at all inferior to their adversaries ; and that
at another time they might decide in their favor what was left in
doubt at the Brandywine. He gave them a day for refreshment, in
the environs of Germantown ; but took care to send out the lightest
and freshest corps upon the right bank of the Schuylkill, as far as
Chester, in order to watch the motions of the enemy, to repress his
excursions, and at the same time to collect the dispersed and strag-
gling Americans. As to himself, he repaired to Philadelphia, where
he had frequent conferences with the congress, in order to concert
with them the measures to be pursued for the re-establishment ol
affairs. But the fifteenth he returned to camp, and repassing, with
all his forces, from the left to the right bank of the Schuylkill, pro-
ceeded on the Lan caster road as far as the Warren tavern, with the
intention of risking another engagement. Conjecturing that the
enemy must be much incumbered with their sick and wounded, he
ordered Smallwood to hang with his light troops on their flank or
rear, as occasion might require, and do them all the harm he could .
At the same time, the bridge over the Schuylkill was ordered to be
loosened from its moorings, to swing on the Philadelphia side ; and
general Armstrong, with the Pennsylvania militia, was directed to
40 THK AMERICAN WAR. BOOK IX.
guard the passes over that river, for the defense of which M. de
Portail, chief of engineers, constructed such sudden works as might
be of immediate use.
General Howe, having passed the night of the eleventh on the field
of battle, sent the following day a strong detachment to Concord,
commanded by general Grant, who was joined afterwards by lord
Cornwallis. They marched together towards Chester, upon the bank
of the Delaware, as if they intended to surprise Philadelphia. Howe,
with the main body of his army, advanced to gain the Lancaster
road, and'had arrived on the sixteenth near Goshen, when he re-
ceived intelligence that Washington was approaching with all his
troops to give him battle, and was already within five miles of Goshen.
With great alacrity, both armies immediately prepared for action ;
the advanced parties had met, when there came up so violent a fall
of rain, that the soldiers were forced to cease their fire. The Amer-
icans, especially, suffered exceedingly from it in their arms and am-
munition. Their gunlocks not being well secured, many of their
muskets were rendered unfit for use. Their cartridge-boxes had
been so badly constructed as not to protect their powder from the
severity of the tempest.
These circumstances compelled Washington to defer the engage-
ment. He therefore recrossed the Schuylkill at Parker's Ferry, and
encamped upon the eastern bank of that river, on both sides of
Perkyomy Creek. But as this retreat left general Smallwood too
much exposed to be surrounded by the enemy, general Wayne, with
his division, was detached to the rear of the British, with orders to
join him ; and carefully concealing himself and his movements, to
seize every occasion which their march might offer, of engaging them
to advantage.
The extreme severity of the weather entirely stopped the British
army, and prevented any pursuit. They made no other movement
than merely to unite their columns, and then took post at Tryduffin.
whence they detached a party to seize a magazine of flour and other
stores, which the republicans had deposited at Valley Forge. Howe
discovered by his spies, that general Wayne, with fifteen hundred
men, was lying in the woods in the rear, and not far from the left
wing of his army. Suspecting some scheme of enterprise, he deter-
mined to avert the stroke, by causing Wayne to experience the check
he destined for him. Accordingly, in the night of the thirteenth, he
detached general Grey, with two regiments and a body of light in-
fantry, to surprise the enemy. That general conducted the enter-
prise with great prudence and activity. Stealing his way through the
woods, he arrived undiscovered, about one in the morning, before the
BOOK IX. THE AMERICAN WAR. 41
encampment of Wayne. Having forced his pickets without noise,
the British detachment, guided by the light of their fires, rushed in
upon the enemy, torpid with sleep and chilled with terror. • In the
midst of this obscurity and confusion, a shocking slaughter was exe-
cuted with bayonets. The Americans lost many of their men, with
their baggage, arms, and stores. The whole corps must have been
cut off, if Wayne had not preserved his coolness ; he promptly rallied
a few regiments, who withstood the shock of the enemy, and covered
the retreat of the others. The loss of the English was very incon-
siderable. When this attack commenced, general Smallwood, who was
coming up to join Wayne, was already within a mile of the field of
battle ; and, had he commanded troops who were to be relied on,
might have given a very different turn to the night. But his militia,
who were excessively alarmed, thought only of their own safety ; and
having fallen in with a party returning from the pursuit of Wayne,
they instantly fled in confusion.
Having thus secured his rear, the British general resolved to bring
the Americans to action, or to press them so far from Philadelphia as
should enable him to push suddenly across the Schuylkill, and turn
without danger to his right, in order to take possession of that city.
To this end he made such movements upon the western bank, as to
give the enemy jealousy that he intended to cross higher up, where
the river was more shallow, and after turning his right flank, to seize
the extensive magazines of provisions and military stores, which had
been established at Reading. In order to oppose so great a mischief,
Washington retired with his army up the river, and encamped at
Potts Grove. Howe, on intelligence of this change of the enemy's
position, immediately crossed the Schuylkill without opposition ; a
part of his troops being passed at Gordon's Ford, and the rest lower
down at Flatland Ford. On the night of the twenty-third, the whole
British army encamped upon the left bank ; thus finding itself be-
tween the army of Washington and the city of Philadelphia.
It was now self-evident that nothing could save that city from the
grasp of the English, unless the American general chose to risk a
battle for its rescue.
But Washington, more jrv.ded by prudence than by the wishes
and clamors of the multitude, abstained from resorting to that fatal
experiment He deemed it a measure of blind temerity to commit
the fate of America to the uncertain issue of a general engagement.
He daily expected the arrival of the remaining troops of Wayne and
Smallwood, the continental troops of Peek's Kill and the provincial
militia of New Jersey, under the command of general Dickinson.
The soldiers were less fatigued than won down by continual
42 THE AMERICAN WAR. BOOK IX.
marches, bad roads, want of food, and sufferings of every denomina-
tion. A council of war being assembled, and the condition of the
army considered, it was unanimously decided to remain on the pres-
ent ground, until the expected re-inforcements should arrive, and
to allow the harassed troops a few days for repose.
Washington resolved to proceed in every point with extreme cir-
cumspection, holding himself ready to seize the occasions which
Heaven might offer him for the glory of its own cause, and for the
good of the republic. Philadelphia was therefore abandoned as a
prey which could not escape the enemy.
When it was known in that city that the violent rain which fell on
the sixteenth, had prevented the two armies from coming to action,
and that Washington had been constrained to retire behind the
SchuylkiU, congress adjourned itself to the twenty-seventh, at Lan-
caster. At the same time, the public magazines and archives were
evacuated with all diligence ; the vessels lying at the wharves were
removed up the Delaware. About twenty individuals were taken
into custody, the greater part of them Quakers, avowed enemies to
the state ; having positively refused to give any security in writing,
or even verbal attestation, of submission or allegiance to the present
government. They were sent off to Staunton, in Virginia, as a
place of security.
With unshaken confidence in the virtue of Washington, as a suffi-
cient pledge for the hope of the republic, the congress invested him
with the same dictatorial powers that were conceded him after the
reverses of New Jersey. At length, the rumor of the approach of
the English increasing from hour to hour, they left the city. Lord
Cornwallis entered Philadelphia the twenty-sixth of September, at
the head of a detachment of British and Hessian grenadiers. The
rest of the army remained in the camp of German town. Thus the
rich and populous capital of the whole confederation fell into the
power of the royalists, after a sanguinary battle, and a series of
maneuvers, no less masterly than painful, of the two armies. The
Quakers, and all the other loyalists who had remained there, wel-
comed the English with transports of gratulation. Washington, de-
scending along the left bank of the SchuylkiU, approached within
sixteen miles of Germantown. He encamped at Skippach Creek,
purposing to accommodate his measures to the state of things
The loss of Philadelphia did not produce among the Americans a
particle of that discouragement which the English had flattered them-
selves would be the consequence of this event. The latter, on find-
ing themselves masters of that city, erected batteries upon the Dela-
ware, in order to command the whole breadth of the river, prevent
BOOK IX. THE AMERICAN WAR. 43
any sudden attack by water, and interdict to the republicans all navi-
gation between its upper and lower parts. While they were engaged
in these works, the Americans, with the frigate Delaware anchored
within five hundred yards of the unfinished batteries, and with some
smaller vessels, commenced a very heavy cannonade both upon the
batteries and the town. They did not, however, display the judg-
ment which their knowledge of the river might be supposed to afford ;
for upon the falling of the tide, the Delaware grounded so effectually
that she could not be got off, which being perceived by the English,
they brought their cannon to play upon her with so much effect that
she was soon obliged to strike her colors. The same fire compelled
the other vessels to retire up the river, with the loss of a schooner
which was driven ashore.
The Americans, under the apprehension of what afterwards hap-
pened, that is, of not being able to preserve Philadelphia, had, with
great labor and expense, constructed all manner of works to interrupt
the navigation of the river, in order to prevent the British fleet from
communicating with the troops that might occupy the city. They
knew that the army of Washington, when it should have received its
re-5nforcements, would soon be in a condition to take the field anew,
and to cut off the enemy's supplies on the side of Pennsylvania ; if,
therefore, unable to procure them by water, the English must in a
short time be compelled to evacuate the city. Pursuant to this rea-
soning, the Americans had erected works and batteries upon a flat,
low, marshy island, or rather a bank of mud and sand which had
been accumulated in the Delaware near the junction of the Schuylkill,
and which from its nature was called Mud, but from these defenses,
Fort Island. On the opposite shore of New Jersey, at a place
called Red Bank, they had also constructed a fort or redoubt, well
covered with heavy artillery. In the deep navigable channel be-
tween or under the cover of these batteries they had sunk several
ranges of frames or machines, the construction of which we have
already described in a foregoing book. About three miles lower
down, they had sunk other ranges of these machines, and were con-
structing for their protection some considerable and extensive Works,
which, though not yet finished, were in such forwardness, as to be
provided with artillery, and to command their object, at a place on
the Jersey side, called Billings Point. These works and machines
were further supported by several galleys, mounting heavy cannon,
together with two floating batteries, a number of armed vessels, and
small craft of various kinds, and some fire-ships.
The English well knew the importance of opening for themselves
a free communication with the cp.a, by means of the Delaware ; since
44 THE AMERICAN WAR. BOOK IX.
their operations* could never be considered secure, so long as the
enemy should maintain positions upon the banks of that river ; and
accordingly they deliberated upon the means of reducing them.
Immediately after the success of the Brandywine, lord Howe, who
commanded the whole fleet, had made sail for the mouth of the
Delaware, and several light vessels had already arrived in that river,
among others the Roebuck, commanded by captain Hammond.
That officer represented to general Howe, that if sufficient forces
were sent to attack the fort at Billings Point, on the Jersey shore, it
might be taken without difficulty ; and that he would then take upon
himself to open a passage for the vessels through the chevaux-de-
frize. The general approved this project, and detached two regi-
ment under colonel Stirling, to carry it into effect. The detach-
ment, having crossed the river from Chester, the moment they had
set foot upon the Jersey shore, marched with all speed to attack the
fort in rear.
The Americans, not thinking themselves able to sustain the ene-
my's assault, immediately spiked their artillery, set fire to the bar-
racks, and abandoned the place with precipitation. The English
waited to destroy or to render unserviceable those parts of the works
which fronted the river, and this success, with the spirit and perse-
verance exhibited by the officers and crews of the ships under his
command, enabled Hammond, through great difficulties, to carry the
principal object of the expedition into effect, by cutting away and
weighing up so much of the chevaux-de-frize as opened a narrow
passage for the shipping through this lower barrier.
The two regiments of Stirling returned, after their expedition, to
Chester, whither another had been sent to meet them, in order that
they might all together form a sufficient escort for a large convoy of
provisions to the camp.
Washington, who had not left his position at Skippach Creek,
being informed that three regiments had been thus detached, and
knowing that lord Cornwallis lay at Philadelphia wJth four battalions
of grenadiers, perceived that the army of Howe must be sensibly
weakened. He determined, therefore, to avail himself of this favor-
able circumstance, and to fall unexpectedly upon the British army
encamped at German town.
He took this resolution with the more confidence, as he was now
re-inforced by the junction of the troops from Peek's Kill and the
Maryland militia.
German town is a considerable village, about half a dozen miles
from Philadelphia, and which, stretching on both sides of the grea*
road to the northward, forms a continued street of two miles in
BOOK IX. THE AMERICAN WAR. 45
length. The British line of encampment crossed Germantown at
right angles about the center, the left wing extending on the west,
from the town to the Schuylkill. That wing was covered in front by
the mounted and dismounted German chasseurs, who were station-
ed a little above towards the American camp ; a battalion of light
infantry and the Queen's American, rangers were in the front of the
right. The center, being posted within the town, was guarded by
the fortieth regiment, and another battalion of light infantry station-
ed about three quarters of a mile above the head of the village.
Washington resolved to attack the British by surprise, not doubting
that, if he succeeded in breaking them, as they were not only dis-
tant, but totally separated from the fleet, his victory must be decisive
He so disposed his troops, that the divisions of Sullivan and Wayne,
flanked by Conway's brigade, were to march down the main road,
and entering the town by the way of Chesnut Hill, to attack the
English center, and the right flank of their left wing ; the divisions
of Greene and Stephens, flanked by Macdougall's brigade, were to
take a circuit towards the east, by the Limekiln road, and entering
the town at the market-house, to attack the left flank of the right
wing. The intention of the American general in seizing the village
of Germantown by a double attack, was effectually to separate the
right and left wings of the royal army, which must have given him
a certain victory. In order that the left flank of the left wing might
not contract itself, and support the right flank of the same wing,
general Armstrong, with the Pennsylvania militia, was ordered to
march down the bridge road upon the banks of the Schuylkill, and
endeavor to turn the English;, if they should retire from that river.
In like manner, to prevent the right flank of the right wing from
going to the succor of the left flank, which rested upon German-
town, the militia of Maryland and Jersey, under generals Smallwood
and Forman, were to march down the Old York road, and to fall
upon the English on that extremity of their wing. The division of
lord Sterling, and the brigades of generals Nash and Maxwell,
formed the reserve. These dispositions being made, Washington
quitted his camp at Skippach Creek, and moved towards the enemy,
on the third of October, about seven in the evening. Parties of
cavalry silently scoured all the roads, to seize any individual who
might have given notice to the British general of the danger that
threatened him. Washington in person accompanied the column of
Sullivan and Wayne. The march was rapid and silent.
At three o'clock in the morning, the British patroles discovered the
approach of the Americans ; the troops were soon called to arms ;
each took his post with the precipitation of surprise. About sunrise
46 THE AMERICAN WAR. BOOK IX.
the Americans came up. General Con way, having driven in the pick-
ets, fell upon the fortieth regiment and the battalion of light infantry.
These corps, after a short resistance, being overpowered by numbers,
were pressed and pursued into the village. Fortune appeared al-
ready to have declared herself in favor of the Americans ; and cer-
tainly if they had gained complete possession of Germantown,
nothing could have frustrated them of the most signal victory. But
in this conjuncture, lieutenant-colonel Musgrave threw himself, with
six companies of the fortieth regiment, into a large and strong stone
house, situated near the head of the village, from which he poured
upon the assailants so terrible a fire of musketry that they could ad-
vance no further. The Americans attempted to storm this unex-
pected covert of the enemy, but those within continued to defend
themselves with resolution. They finally brought cannon up to the
assault, but such was the intrepidity of the English, and the violence
of their fire, that it was found impossible to dislodge them. During
this time, general Greene had approached the right wing, and routed,
after a slight engagement, the light infantry and Queen's rangers.
Afterwards, turning a little to his right, and towards Germantown, he
fell upon the left flank of the enemy's right wing, and endeavored to
enter the village. Meanwhile, he expected that the Pennsylvania
militia, under Armstrong, upon the right, and the militia of Maryland
and Jersey, commanded by Smallwood and Forman on the left,
would have executed the orders of the commander-in-chief, by at-
tacking and turning, the first the left, and the second the right, flank
of the British army. But either because the obstacles they encoun-
tered had retarded them, or that they wanted ardor, the former
arrived in sight of the German chasseurs, and did not attack them ;
the latter appeared too late upon the field of battle.
The consequence was, that general Grey, finding his left flank se-
cure, marched, with nearly the whole of the left wing, to the assist-
ance of the center, which, notwithstanding the unexpected resistance
of colonel Musgrave, was excessively hard pressed in Germantown,
where the Americans gained ground incessantly. The battle was
now very warm at that village, the attack and the defense being
equally vigorous. The issue appeared for some time dubious. Gen-
eral Agnew was mortally wounded, while charging with great brave-
ry, at the head of the fourth brigade. The American colonel Mat-
thews, of the column of Greene, assailed the English with so much
fury that he drove them before him into the town. He had taken a
large number of prisoners, and was about entering the village, when
he perceived that a thick fog and the unevenness of the ground had
caused him to lose sight of the rest of his division. Being soon en-
BOOK IX. THE AMERICAN WAR. 47
veloped by the extremity of the right wing, which fell back upon
him when it had discovered that nothing" was to be apprehended from
the tardy approach of the militia of Maryland and Jersey, he was
compelled to surrender with all his party ; the English had already
rescued their prisoners. This check was the cause that two regi-
ments of the English right wing were enabled to throw themselves
into Germantown, and to attack the Americans who had entered it
in flank. Unable to sustain the shock, they retired precipitately,
leaving a great number of killed and wounded. Lieutenant-colonel
Musgrave, to whom belongs the principal honor of this affair, was
then relieved from all peril. General Grey, being absolute master
of Germantown, flew to the succor of the right wing, which was
engaged with the left of the column of Greene. The Americans
then took to flTght, abandoning to the English, throughout the line,
a victory of which, in the commencement of the action, they had felt
assured.
The principal causes of the failure of this well concerted enter-
prise, were the extreme haziness of the weather ; which was so thick,
that the Americans could neither discover the situation nor move-
ments of the British army, nor yet those of their own ; the inequali-
ty of the ground, which incessantly broke the ranks of their battal-
ions ; an inconvenience more serious and difficult to be repaired for
new and inexperienced troops, as were most of the Americans, than
for the English veterans ; and, finally, the unexpected resistance of
Musgrave, who found means, in a critical moment, to transform a
mere house into an impregnable fortress.
Thus fortune, who at first had appeared disposed to favor one
party, suddenly declared herself on the side of their adversaries.
Lord Cornwallis, being at Philadelphia, upon intelligence of the
attack upon the camp, flew to its succor with a corps of cavalry and
the grenadiers ; but when he reached the field of battle, the Ameri-
cans had already left it. They had two hundred men killed in this
action ; the number of wounded amounted to six hundred ; and
about four hundred were made prisoners. One of their most la-
mented losses was that of general Nash, of North Carolina. The
loss of the British was little over five hundred in killed and wounded ;
among the former were brigadier-general Agruew, an officer of rare
merit, and colonel Bird. The American army saved all its artillery,
and retreated the same day about twenty miles, 'to Perkyomy
Creek.
The congress expressed in decided terms their approbation, both
of the plan of this enterprise and the courage with which it was
executed ; for which their thanks were given to the general and the
48 THE AMERICAN WAR. BOOK IX.
army. General Stephens, however, was cashiered for misconduct
on die retreat.
A few days after the battle, the royal army removed from German-
town to Philadelphia. The want of provisions would not have
permitted Howe to follow the enemy into his fastnesses, and he was
desirous of co-operating with the naval force in opening the navi-
gation of the Delaware. Washington, having received a small re-
inforcement of fifteen hundred militia, and a state regiment from
Virginia, again advanced a few miles towards the English, and en-
camped once more at Skippach Creek. Thus, the British general
might have seen that he had to grapple with an adversary, who, far
from allowing himself to be discouraged by adverse fortune, seemed,
on the contrary, to gain by it more formidable energies ; who, the
moment after defeat, was prepared to resume the offensive ; and
whose firmness and activity were such, that even the victories ob-
tained by his adversaries only yielded them the effects of defeat.
Nor was the taking of Philadelphia attended with those advantages
which were expected from it.
The inhabitants of the country were not in the least intimidated
by that event *, and the victorious army, surrounded on all sides by
enemies, found itself, as it were, immured within the precincts of the
city. Washington, posted on the heights of the Schuylkill, main-
tained a menacing attitude ; he employed his cavalry and light troops
in scouring the country between the banks of that river and those of
the Delaware. He thus repressed the excursions of the English,
prevented them from foraging with safety, and deterred the disaffect-
ed or the avaricious among the people of the country from convey-
ing provisions to their camp. Moreover, the congress passed a reso-
lution, subjecting to martial law and to death all those who should
furnish the royal troops with provisions, or any other aids whatsoever;
Compelled to relinquish the hope of supporting his army from the
adjacent country, the British general now applied himself with dili-
gence to the task of removing the obstructions of the Delaware, and
opening a free communication with the fleet. The enterprise pre-
sented difficulties and dangers of no ordinary magnitude. To suc-
ceed in this operation, it was necessary to seize Mud Island, which
was defended by Fort Mifflin, and the point of Red Bank, where the
Americans had erected Fort Mercer. After the reduction of these
two fortresses, the upper chevaux-de-frize might be destroyed.
General Howe, therefore, resolved to attack them both at the same
time, in concert with those ships which had been able to pass the
lower barrier. Batteries of heavy artillery had been erected on the
Pennsylvania side, in front of Mud Island, to assist in dislodging the
BOOK IX. THE AMERICAN WAR. 49
enemy from that position. The garrison of Fort Mifflin was com-
manded by colonel Smith, and that of Fort Mercer by colonel
Greene, both officers in great esteem among the Americans.
General Howe had arranged for the attack of Fort Mifflin, that
while the batteries on the western shore should open their fire upon
its right flank, the Vigilant ship of war, passing up the narrow chan-
nel which separates Hog Island from the Pennsylvania shore, should
cannonade it in the rear, and the frigates, with the ships Isis and
Augusta in front, approaching it by the middle channel, which is
considerably wider and deeper. As to Fort Mercer, it was also to
be attacked in the rear, on the side of New Jersey, by landing troops
on the left bank of the Delaware.
According to these dispositions, the English put themselves in
motion on the evening of the twenty-first of October. Colonel Do-
nop, a German officer, who had distinguished himself in the course
of this campaign, passed the Delaware from Philadelphia, with a
strong detachment of Hessians, at Cooper's Ferry. Then marching
down upon the Jersey shore, along the bank of the river, he arrived,
at a late hour the following day, in the rear of Red Bank. The
fortifications consisted of extensive outer works, within which was a
strong palisaded intrenchment, well furnished with artillery. Donop
attacked the fort with the utmost gallantry. The Americans, after a
slight resistance in the outer intrenchment, finding their number too
small to man it sufficiently, withdrew into the body of the redoubt,
where they made a vigorous defense.
Their intrepidity and the want of scaling ladders baffled all the
efforts of the Hessians. Colonel Donop was mortally wounded and
taken prisoner. Several of his best officers were killed or disabled ;
colonel Mingerode himself, the second in command, received a dan-
g§rous wound. The Hessians were then severely repulsed ; and
lieutenant-colonel Linsing drew them off with precipitation ; but
even in their retreat they suffered extremely by the fire of the ene-
my's galleys and floating batteries. The loss of the Hessians was
estimated at no less than four or five hundred men. Donop expired
of his wounds the next day. The Americans owed much of their
success to the Chevalier de Plessis, a French officer, who directed
the artillery with great ability and valcr. The vanquished returned
to Philadelphia.
Meanwhile, the ships had advanced, in order to be in readiness to
attack Mud Island. After having made their way with difficulty
through the lower barrier, the Augusta man of war, several frigates
and other smaller vessels, waited above it for the tide ; the momenl
the flood set in, they proceeded towards their destined stations. But
TOL. u. 4
50 THE AMERICAN WAR. BOOK TX.
a strong northerly wind prevented the Vigilant from taking the post
assigned her between Hog Island and the Pennsylvania shore.
Moreover, the obstructions which the Americans had sunk in the
bed of the river, had, in some degree, altered its natural channel.
By this means, the Augusta and Merlin were grounded so fast, at
some distance from the chevaux-de-frize, that there was no possibil-
ity of getting them off. The frigates, however, reached their sta-
tions, and commenced a cannonade upon Fort Mifflin, while the
batteries on shore were also opened upon the garrison. The Amer-
icans defended themselves with spirit, and night soon put an end to
the engagement. Early next morning the English renewed the
attack, not that in the present state of things they expected to reduce
the fort, but in the hope that, under cover of their fire, the two ships
which were grounded might be got off. Notwithstanding their
efforts, the Augusta took fire and blew up ; the Merlin, which could
not be removed, was hastily evacuated and laid in a train of destruc-
tion. The frigates, despairing of success, and fearing the effect of
the explosion, retired with the utmost expedition. The congress
voted their thanks and a sword to colonels Greene and Smith, for
having so gallantly defended the two forts.
The ill success of these two attacks did not, however, discourage
the British commanders ; and such was the importance of opening
the navigation of the Delaware, as well to secure the arrival of stores
and jupplies, as to obtain a free communication with the fleet, that
they resolved to leave no means unessayed for the attainment of this
object.
Fort Mifflin was placed at the lower end of Mud Island, having
its principal fortifications in front, for the purpose of repelling ships
coming up the river. At the opposite extremity, no attack being
expected, as the naval means of the British in Philadelphia were t^jo
feeble to excite alarm, the fort was surrounded only by a wet ditch.
This part, however, was flanked by a blockhouse at each of its an-
gles, one of which had been much damaged in the late attack. A
little above Mud Island is another small morassy island called Prov-
ince Island ; this the English had occupied in order to be able to
batter Fort Mifflin in its rear, and weakest part. They were inces-
santly employed in conveying thither heavy artillery, provisions, and
stores, by a difficult channel, near the west bank of the river, behind
Hog Island. They also erected fortifications, in the most suitable
places. The Americans perceived distinctly that when the enemy
should have completed his works on this island, their position on Mud
Island would no longer be tenable.
BOOK IX. THE AMERICAN WAR 51
Washington would have desired, by a sudden expedition, to dis-
lodge the English from Province Island, but as Howe had thrown a
bridge over the Schuylkill, he might, while the Americans were at-
tempting this stroke, have fallen upon their rear and cut off their
retreat. If the American general marched with all his army to cover
it, he exposed himself to a general battle, which he wished to avoid.
It appeared to him imprudent to put so much at hazard, after the
late unfortunate actions. He felt the greater repugnance to embrace
adventurous counsels, as he was already apprised of the successes
obtained by the northern army ; in consequence of which, a great
part of the troops employed against Burgoyne, might be drawn to
re-inforce his own. He abstained, therefore, from undertaking the
enterprise against Province Island, hoping, however, that the courage
of the defenders of Fort Mifflin, and the succors that might be sent
them secretly, would suffice to prolong their resistance.
But every thing being prepared on the side of the English, they
executed their attack the fifteenth of November. All the ships, be-
ing arrived at their posts, opened a furious cannonade. The Ameri-
cans answered it, at first, with no less vigor from the fort, from the
batteries of New Jersey, and from the galleys which were stationed
near that shore. But at length, the works being battered down and
the ditches filled up with their ruins, their situation became critical.
They perceived the English were taking measures for storming
the body of the fortress the following morning, and being sensible
that, in the present state of things, it WKS not defensible, having sent
off their stores, they set fire to every thing that was capable of
receiving it, and evacuated the place in the night. They withdrew
to Red Bank. The next day the English took possession of the
fort.
9 It still remained to dislodge the soldiers of congress from Red
Bank, before the obstructions of the Delaware could be entirely re-
moved. This operation was of absolute necessity ; for, although
some vessels of easy burden, being loaded with provisions from the
country about Chester, where the inhabitants were well affected to
the royal cause, brought scanty supplies to Philadelphia, yet the
scarcity in that city became daily more distressing; and firewood was
almost totally wanting.
In consequence of these considerations, general Howe, having
covered Philadelphia by intrenchments, extending from the Dela-
ware to the Schuylkill, and having received some re-inforceinents
from New York, sent Cornwallis with a strong detachment to the
Jersey shore, with instructions to collect provisions, and attack Fort
Mercer in the rear. That general, having crossed from Chester to
52 THE AMERICAN WAR. BOOK IX.
Billings Point, prepared to execute the orders he had received. He
was there joined by a body of forces just arrived from New York.
Washington, upon intelligence of this movement, being earnestly
desirous to preserve, if practicable, a position so capable of arrest-
ing the progress of the enemy, had ordered major-general Greene,
an officer he much esteemed for his talents and intrepidity, to pass,
also, at the head of a strong detachment, into New Jersey. A hope
was entertained that he would be able, not only to protect Fort
Mercer, but to obtain some decisive advantage over lord Corn-
wallis ; as the situation of the fort, which the British general could
only invest by placing himself between Timber and Manto Creeks,
neither of them fordable for a great distance from the Delaware,
would expose the assailants to great peril from a respectable force
in their rear. General Greene passed the Delaware, and landed at
Burlington. He was accompanied by the marquis de la Fayette
who was eager to enter the field again, though not yet well cured of
his wound.
This division was to be re-inforced by the troops expected from
the banks of the Hudson. The march was commenced ; but gene-
ral Greene, being informed that Cornwallis was become greatly
superior to him in number, by the junction of the re-inforcement
from 'New York, abandoned the plan of giving him battle. Hence
colonel Greene, who commanded the garrison, losing all hope of
succor, and apprised of the approach of Cornwallis, evacuated Fort
Mercer, and Red Bank, leaving his artillery, with a considerable quan-
tity of cannon ball and stores, in the power of the royalists. The
English dismantled the fort, and demolished all the works.
The American sM pping having now lost all protection on either
side of the river, several galleys and other irmed vessels took the
advantage of a favorable night to pass the batteries of Philadelphia^
and escape to places of security further up. The English, on per-
ceiving this transaction, sent an officer with a party of seamen to
man the Delaware frigate, and took such other measures as rendered
the escaping of the remainder impracticable. Thus environed, the
crews abandoned and set fire to their vessels, which were all con-
sumed, to the amount of seventeen, of different sorts, including two
floating batteries, and four fire ships. The English, having secured.
as we have seen, the command of the river, labored to clear it of all
the impediments with which the Americans had obstructed its chan-
nel. But the difficulties they had to surmount were extreme, and
the season was far advanced, it being already the last of November.
With all these efforts they could only obtain such an opening through
the upper barrier as admitted vessels of easy burden. These were
BOOK IX. THE AMERICAN WAR. 53
accordingly employed for the transport of provisions and stores to
Philadelphia. Although the royalists had thus partly succeeded in
re-establishing the navigation of the Delaware, the resistance of the
republicans had been so strenuous and so long, that general Howe
could find no opportunity for attacking the army of Washington
before it was re-inforced by the victorious troops of the Hudson.
Acting always with prudence, the British general would never expose
himself to the hazard of a battle until he was sure of being able to
communicate freely with the fleet of the admiral, his brother, as well
on account of supplies, as for the security of retreat in case of mis-
fortune. General Greene had remained in New Jersey. He had
already been joined by several corps sent by general Gates to the as-
sistance of the army of Pennsylvania ; among them was that of Mor-
gan's riflemen, become celebrated by a multitude of brilliant exploits
Washington was not without hopes that Greene would find occasion
to gain some advantage that might counterbalance the losses, which
it had been impossible to avoid. But Cornwallis had so fortified
himself on Gloucester Point, that he was perfectly secure from any
enterprise on the part of general Greene. Washington then became
apprehensive that the British general, having accomplished all the
objects of his expedition into New Jersey, by the reduction of Fort
Mercer, the junction with his re-inforcements, and the expediting of
a great quantity of provisions to Philadelphia, might suddenly recross
the Delaware, and thus enable Howe, with all his forces, to attack
the American army while divided. Greene was therefore ordered
to repass the river immediately, and join the principal army at
Skippach Creek. Similar considerations determined general Howe
to direct the detachment of Cornwallis to rejoin him without delay.
Before, however, the two parties evacuated New Jersey, Morgan's
•rifle corps and some detachments of militia, commanded by the
marquis de la Fayette, gallantly attacked and routed a body of
Hessians and English grenadiers. After this affair, the marquis, who
had till then served as a volunteer, was invested by congress with
the command of a division of the army.
Washington had at length been re-inforced by the troops which
Gates had sent him ; their march had experienced difficulties and
frequent delays. Gates himself had shown much repugnance to put
them in motion ; and, besides, they had manifested a mutinous spirit
towards their chiefs, declaring that they would not march without
money and without clothing. Their officers, however, finally suc-
ceeded in persuading them to proceed. This aid was composed of
four thousand men of approved courage, and flushed with recent vic-
tory : but squalid in their appearance, from fatigues and want of
54 THE AMERICAN WAR. BOOK IX.
necessaries. After the junction of these troops, Washington advan-
ced within fourteen miles of Philadelphia, to a place called White
Marsh, where he encamped in a very strong position, with his right
to the Wissahickon Creek, and the front partly covered by Sandy
Run. At this time the American army consisted of twelve thousand
regulars and something over, with about three thousand militia.
Howe had with him but little more than twelve thousand fighting
men.
He was ardently desirous, however, of giving battle. Hoping that
the late re-inforcements would animate his adversary with the same
desire, he marched on the fourth of December towards the enemy,
fully determined to make another trial of the fortune of arms. He
took post on Chesnut Hill, in front of the enemy's right, at only three
miles distance. Some skirmishes happened, in which the royalists
generally had the advantage. But Howe, finding that the right of
the enemy afforded no opening for an attack, changed his ground
before day on the seventh, and took a new position opposite to their
center and left, not more than a mile from their lines. He continued
to extend upon the enemy's left, as if his intention was to turn it, and
attack in the rear. Washington did not shun the battle, but chose to
receive it in his lines. According to his invariable plan, he thought,
first 6f all, of the preservation of the army, on which depended the
fate of all America. At length, the British general, finding that
nothing could provoke or entice him into the field, and that his cainp
was in every part inaccessible, after a variety of fruitless maneuvers,
returned to Philadelphia. The British army suffered greatly in these
marches and countermarches, from the severity of the weather, both
officers and soldiers being totally destitute of tents and field equipage ;
this, added to the fatigues of war, had reduced them to a deplorable
condition. Upon this account, and considering the steadiness of the
enemy in declining to fight without every probability of success, gene-
ral Howe determined to place his troops in winter quarters at Phila-
delphia ; having first, however, sent out a strong detachment of
cavalry, under lord Cornwallis, to make a general forage on the west-
ern side of the Schuylkill. Washington, in like manner, resolved to
give his troops winter lodgings ; but he was undecided where tc
choose them. He was not willing to leave the country exposed to
the depredations of the enemy, and yet he wished to avoid extending
his quarters too much, lest they should be forced at different points
by sudden attacks.
On the west side of the Schuylkill, about twenty miles from Phil-
adelphia, is a deep and rugged hollow, called Valley Forge. Upon
the mountainous flanks of this valley, ana upon a vast plain which
BOOK IX. THE AMERICAN WAR. 55
overlooks it, as well as all the adjacent country, Washington finally
concluded to establish his array for the winter.
His soldiers were too ill clothed to admit of their being exposed
to the inclemency of that season under mere tents ; it was therefore
decided that a sufficient number of huts should be erected, to be
made of logs, and filled in with mortar, in which they would find a
more effectual shelter. The whole army began its marcn towards
Valley Forge ; some soldiers were seen to drop dead with cold ;
others, without shoes, had their feet cut by the ice, and left their
tracks in blood. After the most painful efforts, the troops at length
reached their destined quarters. They immediately set about con-
structing their habitations, which they erected upon the plan of a
regular city. All was movement; some cut down trees, others
fashioned them ; in a short time all the barracks were completed,
and the soldiers comfortably lodged. After a severe and sanguinary
campaign of four months, the two armies appeared thus to enjoy
some repose, sufficiently protected from the rigors of the season.
The British general had derived no other fruit from all his victories,
and from all his maneuvers, than simply that of having procured ex-
cellent winter quarters for his army.
1778. In this alternation of good and ill success, passed the year
1777 for the two belligerent parties in America. If the Americans,
in the war of Canada and upon the banks of the Hudson, gave bril-
liant proofs of no common valor ; if, in their campaign of Pennsyl-
vania, they bore their reverses with an heroic firmness, they exhibit-
ed in their quarters of Valley Forge such examples of constancy and
resignation, as we should not dare to pronounce ever to have been
equaled by other nations, in any age or any country. They had not
only to endure the extreme inclemency of the season, but the most
distressing destitution of things the most necessary to life. These
sufferings of the army originated from several causes, such as the
pressure of circumstances, the avarice of the contractors or purchas-
ing commissaries, the adverse dispositions of the inhabitants, and,
finally, the little experience of congress itself in affairs relating to
public administration, especially in the military department.
Scarcely were the troops established in their encampment of Val-
ley Forge, when, Howe having sent a strong detachment to forage
on the islands of the Delaware, and the country about Derby, Wash-
ington, in order to oppose it, was inclined to march a considerable
part of his army towards that point. But on viewing the state of
the maga/mes, it was discovered, with surprise and alarm, that they
ttaincd no more than one day's provision*
such pressing danger of a total famine, and the entire dissolu-
56 THE AMERICAN WAR. BOOK IX.
tion of the army, it became necessary not only to relinquish the de-
sign of marching against the English, but instantly to detach parties
different ways to seize, as in an enemy's country, the provision re-
quisite to satisfy the present wants of the army. Washington was
authorized to take this measure by the urgency of the conjuncture,
and by the decree of congress, which conferred upon him dictatorial
powers. The foragers executed their commissions, and by incredi-
ble exertions, and not without exciting the greatest discontent among
the country people, victualed the camp for a few days ; but soon the
same distress was felt anew, and the same resource could not the
second time afford relief. Whatever efforts were made, little could
be gleaned, as well because the adjacent country was already near-
ly exhausted, as because the inhabitants were careful to conceal in
the woods and swamps, their cattle, and other articles, liable to be
taken for the use of the army ; they acted thus, either from contra-
riety of opinion, or from love of gain. They preferred to encoun-
ter all the perils of carrying their supplies to Philadelphia, where
they were paid for them in ready money, to reserving them for the
use of their own soldiers, because, in the latter case, they only re-
ceived certificates to be discharged at some future time. They much
doubted whether they would ever be liquidated, so great was their
want of confidence in the stability of the government, and they
were not ignorant that some of these bills had been refused payment
when fully due.
The commander-in-chief had not neglected to write, in the most
pressing terms, to the governors of New England, requesting them
to send forward subsistence for the army with all possible expedi-
tion, and especially supplies of cattle, which abound in those prov-
inces. The purchasing commissaries had repaired thither, and con-
tracted, particularly in Connecticut, for immense quantities of pro-
visions, well knowing the impossibility of subsisting an army, for any
length of time, by compulsory requisitions. But these means were
slow in operating the desired relief; and a false measure of congress
had nearly frustrated the effect which was expected from the con-
tracts. The victories of Howe, and the gloomy aspect of affairs in
Pennsylvania, and, perhaps, more than all, the enormous issues of
bills of credit, which the congress, controlled by a fatal necessity,
were continually making, had occasioned these bills to fall at that
epoch to one fourth of their nominal value, so that one hundred dol-
lars in paper would command no more than twenty-five dollars in
specie. The price of articles of the first necessity had advanced
nearly in proportion, and the commissaries, in order to conclude
their bargains, had been obliged to conform to the current rates.
THE AMERICAN WAR.
The congress disapproved of their doings, attributing to the avarice
of the citizens what was really the effect of the public distress. Ac-
cording.y, they either annulled the contracts or postponed the exe-
cution of them. Not satisfied with this, they passed a resolution
which could not appear to have been dictated by an indispensable
necessity, since, from its very nature, it could never be carried into
effect. They invited the different states of the Union to determine
and establish by express laws, not only the price of labor, but also
that of all articles of common use in human life. The several states
complied with the recommendation of congress, and apprized things
by law. The result was, that the citizens secreted their effects, and
buyers could find nothing they wanted, either in the public markets
or elsewhere.
Famine began to prevail in the camp of Valley Forge ; already
the most alarming consequences were apprehended. Notwithstand-
ing their admirable patience, the soldiers murmured, and a mutiny
appeared inevitable. The congress, at length constrained by the
force of things, retraced their steps, and recommended to the several
state legislatures the repeal of all laws on the subject of prices.
The contracts of the purchasing commissaries were allowed to
take effect. But the difficulty of procuring a sufficient number of
wheel carriages still delayed the arrival of the convoys. Washington,
to prevent the total dissolution of his army, ordered a general forage
in the neighborhood of the camp, under the direction of general
Greene. Captains Lee and Mac Lane, officers no less sagacious
than active, were charged with a similar commission in the states of
Maryland and Delaware ; and colonel Tilghman in New Jersey.
Each of these executed the orders of the commander-in-chief with
equal zeal and effect ; they penetrated into the most retired places
of concealment, where they found grain and cattle in abundance.
Captains Mac Lane and Lee, in particular, discovered large droves
in the marshy meadows on the Delaware, ready to be expedited foi
Philadelphia, which they soon caused to take the direction of Valley
Forge. Thus the camp found itself again victualed for the present.
It may perhaps appear unaccountable, that the American government
should not seasonably have employed those means which might have
prevented so urgent a peril. It is, however, certain, that soon after
the commencement of hostilities, the congress had appointed colonel
Trumbull, a man of excellent abilities, and a zealous patriot, to su-
perintend the purchasing of necessaries for the troops. But from
his want of experience, and perhaps of sufficient support on the part
of the government, as yet not well consolidated, it had resulted,
that the army was often on the point of suffering from the deficiency
53 THE AMERICAN WAR. BOOK IX.
of supplies : hence the plans of the commander-in-chief were fre-
quently frustrated, and the movements of his army embarrassed, to
the loss of many fair opportunities for the most important strokes.
When, afterwards, about the middle of the year 1777, the depart-
ment of colonel Trumbull began to be administered with more regu-
larity, the congress, believing that the more officers of supply they
had under their control, the better the troops would be served, cre-
ated two commissaries-general, the one of purchases and the other of
issues. They determined that each of these commissaries-general
should have four deputies, to L>e appointed by congress, not remova-
ble by the head of the department, and accountable to themselves
only.
They afterwards resolved that the quarter-master-generaPs de-
partment should be executed on the following plan :
' First, the military line, to be styled the quarter-master-general's,
is to include the regulating of marches, encampments and order of
battle. Second, the commissary of forage. Third, the commissary
of horses and wagons. Fourth, the agent for the purchase of tents,
intrenching tools, building of barracks, and for all the smaller sup-
plies of the department.' Colonel Trumbull, dissatisfied with this
multiplicity of departments, and still more with this independence of
the deputies with respect to the head of the department, requested
the congress to appoint him a successor. The congress persisted in
their plan. The old order of things being thus annihilated, and the
new not yet organized, there followed those serious inconveniences
which we have mentioned above.
Congress at length perceived the inevitable preponderancy in
times of war, and especially in new states, of military men and affairs
over civil ; they saw there was no possibility of inducing the generals,
who all disapproved it, to execute their plan for the administration of
the army. It was accordingly abandoned, and general Greene, who
enjoyed the entire confidence of the commander-in-chief, was ap-
pointed quarter-master-general, and a very suitable person, named
Wadsworth, commissary-general of purchases ; both having power
tc appoint and remove their assistants. But these measures were
not adopted till very late ; and before the salutary effects of the new
system could be felt, the army was a prey to such mischiefs and
miseries, as broughJ the republic to the very brink of destruction.
The distresses of the troops were far from being confined to dearth
of sustenance ; the greatest scarcity, or rather a total want of all
other necessaries, was also experienced in the camp. It was utterly
unprovided even of clothing, an article so essential to the health, as
well as to the spirits of the soldiers ; tattered and half naked, they
BOOK IX. THE AMERICAN WAR. 59
would sooner have been taken for so many mendicants, than defend •
ers of a generous country.
Some few had one shirt, but many only the moiety of one, and
the greater part none at all. Many, for want of shoes, walked bare-
foot on the frozen ground. Few, if any, had blankets for the night.
Great numbers sickened ; others, unfitted for service by the cold and
their nakedness, were excused by their officers from all military duty,
and either remained in their barracks, or were 'lodged in the houses
of the neighboring farmers. Near three thousand men were thus
rendered incapable of bearing arms. Congress had neglected no
care to provide a remedy for so alarming an evil. They had author-
ized the commander-in-chief, as we have already said, to seize,
_vvherever he might be, and from any person whatever, all articles of
necessity for the army ; and nothing could be more essential than to
clothe it. But Washington felt great repugnance to using this power ;
as, on the one hand, it exasperated the citizens, and, on the other, it
accustomed the soldiers to lay hands on the property of others. The
congress considered these scruples unseasonable ; they recommended
to the legislatures of each state to enact laws, appointing suitable
persons to seize and take for the use of the army, all articles proper
for the clothing of soldiers, on condition, however, of paying the pro-
prietors for the articles so taken, at a rate to be fixed by the conven-
tion of the committees appointed for this purpose by the several
states.
They also created a commissary-general of clothing for the troops,
to be assisted by a deputy commissary in each state, as well for the
purpose of superintending the compulsory requisitions, as in order, if
practicable, to procure all that was necessary by wray of contracts.
But these measures were slow in producing the desired effect. Many
detested the thought of wresting from their fellow citizens what they
would not sell voluntarily. There prevailed, besides, at this time, in
all the states, a scarcity of cloths, linens, leather, and generally of
all the articles that were most wanted. Nevertheless, the deputy
commissary of the clothing department in Massachusetts, had suc-
ceeded in concluding contracts with several merchants for large quan-
tities of merchandise, at the rate of ten to eighteen per cent, above
the current price. Their terms appeared exorbitant to some, and
even to the congress, and much was said about the avarice of the
merchants. It was, however, just to consider, that the bilk they re-
ceived in payment were already fallen to one fourth of their nominal
value ; that the merchandise in question was extremely scarce in the
country ; that the price of labor was greatly advanced, and that it
was become extremely difficult to make remittance to foreign countries.
60 THE AMERICAN WAR. BOOK IX.
Whether it was that these murmurs had piqued the merchants, or that
cupidity had really more power over them than the promises of the
government, several of those who had entered into contracts refused
to furnish, unless they were paid in advance. The congress, being
informed of this determination, addressed a letter to the state gov-
ernments, requesting that the goods should be seized from such as re-
fused to fulfill their contracts, at prices to be fixed by commissioners
appointed for that purpose under the state authority. These resolu-
tions of congress, and the letters written to the states by Washington,
urging them in the most earnest language to come to the succor of
his suffering army, at length produced all the effect that was desired ;
yet not so promptly, however, but that the greater part of the win-
ter was already elapsed when the first convoys of clothing arrived
at the camp.
To all the miseries of the army already enumerated, must still be
added the want of straw. The soldiers, overwhelmed with lassitude,
enfeebled by hunger, and benumbed with cold in their service by
day and by night, had no other bed in their huts except the bare and
humid ground. This cause, joined to the others that have been re-
lated, propagated diseases ; the hospitals were as rapidly replenished
as death evacuated them ; their administration was no less defective
in its organization than that of the camp. The unsuitableness of
the buildings in which they had been established, the excessive pen-
ury of every kind of furniture, and the multitude of sick that crowd-
ed them, had generated an insupportable fetor. The hospital fever
broke out in them, and daily swept off the most robust as well as the
feeble. It was not possible to remedy it by often changing the lin-
en, for of this they were utterly unprovided ; nor by a more salubri-
ous diet, when the coarsest was scarcely attainable ; nor even by
medicines, which were either absolutely wanting, or of the worst
quality, and adulterated through the cupidity of the contractors ; for
such, in general, has been the nature of these furnishers of armies,
that they should rather be denominated the artisans of scarcity ; they
have always preferred money to the life of the soldier. Hence it
was, that the American hospital resembled more a receptacle for the
dying than a refuge for the sick ; far from restoring health to the
diseased, it more often proved mortal to the well. This pestilen
tial den was the terror of the army. The soldiers preferred perish-
ing with cold in the open air, to being buried alive in the rnidst of
the dead. Whether it was the effect of inevitable necessity, or of
the avarice of men, it is but too certain, that an untimely death car-
ried off a multitude of brave soldiers, who, with better attentions,
BOOK IX. THE AMERICAN WAR. 61
might have deen preserved for the defense of their country in its dis-
tress.
All these disorders, so pernicious to the republic, took their origin
in the causes we have related, and partly also in the military organi-
zation itself. The chiefs appeared to acknowledge no system, and
the subalterns no restraint of obedience. Horses were allowed to
perish in the highways, or to escape into the fields, without search.
The roads were incumbered with carts belonging to the army, and
unfit for service. Hence it happened, that when the incredible ex-
ertions of the government and of good citizens had succeeded in
collecting provisions for the army, they could not be conveyed to the
camp, and, by long delays, they were again dispersed, or wasted.
This defect of carriages was equally prejudicial to the transportation
of arms and military stores, which were, in consequence, abandoned
to the discretion of those who either plundered them, or suffered
them to be plundered. An incalculable quantity of public effects
was thus dissipated or destroyed. In the camp of Valley Forge}
men were constrained to perform, as they really did, with incon-
ceivable patience, the service of beasts of draught, as well in procur-
ing firewood as in drawing the artillery. And certainly, nothing
could be imagined to equal the sufferings which the American army
had to undergo in the course of this winter, except the almost super-
human firmness with which they bore them. Not but that a certain
number, seduced by the royalists, deserted th^r colors, and slunk
off to the British army in Philadelphia; but the.ce were mostly
Europeans, who had entered the continental service. The trueborn
Americans, supported by their patriotism, as by theii iove and vene-
ration for the commander-in-chief, manifested an unshaken perseve-
rance ; they chose rather to suffer all the extremes of famine and of
frost, than to violate, in this perilous hour, the faith they had pledged
to their country. They were encouraged, it is true, by the example
of their generals, who, with an air of serenity, took part in all their
fatigues, and shared in all their privations. But can it be dissem-
bled, that if general Howe had seen fit to seize the opportunity, and
had suddenly attacked the camp at Valley Forge, he would inevita-
bly have gained a complete victory? Without military stores and
without provisions, how could the Americans have defended their
intrenchments ? Besides, to enter the field anew, in the midst of so
rigorous a season, was become for them an absolute impossibility.
On the first of February, four thousand of their men were incapable
of any kind of service, for want of clothing. The condition of the
rest was verv little better. In a word, out of the seventeen thou-
62 THE AMERICAN WAR. BOOK IX.
sand men that were in camp, it would have been difficult to muster
five thousand fit for service.
We pretend not to decide what were the motives of the British
general for not taking advantage of a conjuncture so favorable. It
appears to us, at least, that the extreme regard he had to the preser-
vation of his troops, did but lead him on this occasion to reserve
them for greater perils ; and his circumspection rather deserves the
appellation of timidity than of prudence.
Washington was filled with anguish at the calamities of his army.
But nothing gave him more pain than to see his soldiers exposed to
the most pernicious example ; the officers openly declared the design
of resigning their commissions ; many of them had already left the
army, and returned to their families. This determination was prin-
cipally owing to the depreciation of paper money ; it was become
so considerable, and the price of all articles of consumption, as well
for this reason as from the difficulties of commerce, was so prodi-
giously advanced, that the officers, far from being able to live as it be
came their rank, had not even the means of providing for their sub-
sistence. Some had already exhausted their private resources to
maintain a decent appearance, and others, destitute of patrimonial
fortune, had been forced to contract debts, or restrict themselves to
a parsimony little worthy of the rank with which they were invested.
Hence a disinclination for the service became almost universal. Nor
should it be supposed that only the less deserving or worthless
desired to resign ; for the regiments being incomplete, and the num-
ber of officers too great, their retreat would not have been an evil ;
but it was especially the bravest, the most distinguished, the most
spirited, who, disdaining more than others the state of degradation
to which they were reduced, were fully resolved to quit the army, in
order to escape from it. Alarmed at the progress of the evil, Wash-
ington endeavored to resist it, by the use of (those remedies which
he believed the most suitable ; he spared neither promises nor en-
couragements ; he wrote the most pressing letters to the congress,
that they might seriously consider the' subject, and take the proper
measures thereon. He exhorted them, especially, to secure half pay
to the officers after the war, either for life or for a definite term. He
observed that it was easy to talk of patriotism, and to cite a few
examples from ancient history of great enterprises carried by this
alone to a successful conclusion ; but that those who relied solely
upon individual sacrifices for the support of a long and sanguinary
war, must not expect to enjoy their illusion long; that it was neces-
sary to take the passions of men as they are, and not as it might be
wished to find them ; that the love of country had indeed operated
BOOK IX. THE AMERICAN WAR. 63
great fhings in the commencement of the present revolution ; but.
that to continue and complete it, required also the incentive of inter-
est and the hope of reward. The congress manifested at first very
little inclination to adopt the propositions of the commander-in-chief,
either because they deemed them too extraordinary, or from reluc-
tance to load the state with so heavy a burden ; or, finally, because
they thought the grants of lands to the officers and soldiers, of which
we have made mention in its place, ought to satisfy the wishes of
men possessed of any moderation. But at length, submitting to
necessity, they decreed an allowance of half pay for life to the offi-
cers of the army, with the reservation, however, to the government,
of the power to commute it, if deemed expedient, for the sum of
six years' half pay. A short time after they passed another resolu-
tion, which restricted the allowance of half pay to seven years, dating
from the end of the war. These measures, though salutary, were
not taken till too late, and, moreover, were not sufficiently spontane-
ous on the part of the government. Already more than two hun-
dred officers of real merit had given up their commissions ; and it
was again exemplified on this occasion, that a benefit long delayed
loses much of its value. Nor should the congress have forgotten,
thai the founders of a new state control not, but are controlled by,
soldiers ; and that since their support is so indispensable, and it is
impossible to resist them, the wiser course is to content them.
In the midst of his anxieties, created by the causes we have men-
tioned, Washington had the additional chagrin of finding that certain
intrigues were in agitation against himself. The impatient, who
would have events to succeed each other with the same rapidity as
their own desires, and the ambitious, who, to raise themselves, are
always ready to impute to others the strokes of fortune, or the effects
of necessity, gave out on all occasions, and even published in ihe
gazettes, that the reverses of the two preceding years, in New Jersey
and in Pennsylvania, were more owing to the incapacity of the com-
mander-in-chief than to any other cause. They enlarged upon the
victories of Gates, whom they placed far above Washington, and
were continually extolling tne Heroic valor ol the Americans, which
rendered them capable of the most splendid achievements, when
they were led to battle by an able commander. Nor was it merely
among private persons that these slanders were circulated; discon-
tent caused them to be repeated by men in office, gave them admit-
tance into several of the state legislatures, into the midst of the
army, and finally, even into the congress itself. It appeared, that
the object of these machinations was to give Washington so many
disgusts that he should of himself retire from the head of the army
64 THE AMERICAN WAR. BOOK IX.
and thus make room for the immediate promotion of Gates to that
exalted station. Whether this general himself had any hand in the
intrigue, is a matter of uncertainty. If the rectitude and acknowl-
edged generosity of his character be considered, it will appear more
probable that he had not. But ambition is a passion of inconceiva-
ble subtilty, which insinuates itself Under the appearances of virtue,
and too often corrupts and sullies the most ingenuous minds. It is
certain that Gates was not ignorant of the object of the combination,
and that he threw no difficulties in the way. Perhaps he enter-
tained the opinion, and the authors of these machinations with him,
that Washington was not able to sustain so great a weight, and in-
tended, by giving him a successor, to save the country. As for us,
that respect for truth which ought to be our only guide, compels us
to declare that the leaders of this combination, very little concerned
for the public good, were immoderately so for their own, and that
the aim of all their efforts was, to advance themselves and their
friends at the expense of others. Among them, and of the first-
rank, was general Conway, one of the most wily and restless intri-
guers, that passed in those times from Europe into America. De-
claiming and vociferating, incessantly besieging all the members of
congress with his complaints, he pretended that there existed no
sort of discipline in the American army, that there was no two regi-
ments which maneuvered alike, and not two officers in any regiment
who could execute or command the military exercises ; in a word,
he had said and done so much, that the congress appointed him
inspector and major-general. This appointment excited loud mur-
murs in the camp, and the brigadier-generals remonstrated. But
this man, bent on attaining his purposes, and whose audacity knew
no bounds, openly spoke of the commander-in-chief in the most
derogatory terms ; and, as it always happens in times of adversity,
he readily found those who believed him.
The assembly of Pennsylvania was the first to break the ice ; on
the report that Washington was moving into winter quarters, they
addressed a remonstrance to congress, severely censuring this meas-
ure of the commander-in-chief, and expressing, in very plain words,
their dissatisfaction at the mode in which he had conducted the war.
The Pennsylvanians were excessively chagrined at the loss of their
capital, forgetful of their own backwardness in strengthening the
army, which had twice fought superior numbers in their defense. Ji
was, moreover, believed, at the time, that the members of congress
from Massachusetts, and particularly Samuel Adams, had never been
able to brook that the supreme* command of all the armies, should
have been conferred upon a Virginian, to the exclusion of the gene-
BOOK IX. THE AMERICAN WAR. 65
rals of their province, who then enjoyed a reputation not infcrjoi,
and perhaps superior to that of Washington. It appeared also that
these delegates, being the most zealous partisans of the revolution,
were far from approving the moderation of the commander-in- chief.
They \vould have preferred placing at the head of affairs a more
ardent and decided republican ; and it is asserted that they were on
the point of demanding an inquiry into the causes of the unsuccess-
ful issue of the campaigns of the years 1776 and 1777.
This had not effect. But a board of war was created, under the
direction of generals Gates and Mifflin, both of whom, if they were
not, were thought to be, among the authors of these machinations
against Washington. Anonymous letters were circulated, in which
he was cruelly lacerated ; they made him responsible as well for the
disastrous campaigns of Jersey and Pennsylvania, as for the deplora-
ble condition to which the troops were reduced in their winter quar-
ters. One of these letters was addressed to Laurens, the president
of congress ; it was filled with heavy accusations against the com-
mander-in-chief. Another, s%iilar, was sent to Henry, the governor
of Virginia ; both transmitted them to Washington. Supported by
that elevated spirit, and by that firmness which no reverses of fortune
could abate, the serenity he enjoyed was not even for a moment inter-
rupted. He received with the same temper another determination
of congress, matured in concert with the new board of war, perhaps
to let it be seen that they knew how to act by themselves, or because
they had really withdrawn from the commander-in-chief a great part
of the confidence they had placed in him in times past. They had
projected a new expedition against Canada. It was proposed to place
at the head of this enterprise the marquis de la Fayette, whose qual-
ifications, as a Frenchman of illustrious rank, promised peculiar
advantages for the conquest of a province recently French. But,
perhaps, also, the authors of this scheme had it .principally in view, in
separating La Fayette frorfi Washington, to deprive the commander-
in-chief of the defense he found in so faithful a friend. He was to
have been accompanied by the same Convvay mentioned above, and
by general Starke. Washington, without having been at all consulted
upon this expedition, and even without its being communicated to him,
received orders .to put Hazen's regiment of Canadians on the march
for Albany. He obeyed without delay. The marquis, on his arri-
val at Albany, found nothing prepared for the expedition ; neither
men, nor arms, nor munitions. He complained of it to congress ;
the enterprise was relinquished. Washington was authorized to recall
the young Frenchman to his camp ; as to Convvay, he was not invited
thither. Soon after, having made himself the object of general ani-
VOL. Ii §
66 THE AMERICAN WAR. BOOK IX.
madversion by the arrogance of his manners, and his intrigues against
Washington, he requested and obtained leave to resign. He was
succeeded in the office of inspector-general by the baron Steuben, a
Prussian officer of distinguished reputation, who, perfectly versed in
the tactics of Frederick II., undertook to teach them to the soldiers
of congress. By his exertions the Americans learned to mancEuvre
with uniformity, and their discipline was essentially improved.
It would be impossible to express with what indignation the whole
army and the best citi/ens were filled, on hearing of the machinations
that were in agitation against the illustrious chief, who possessed
their entire affection. An universal outcry arose against the in-
triguers. Conway no longer durst show himself among the soldiers,
who threatened to wreak their vengeance upon him. He repaired
to York, in Pennsylvania, where at that time the congress resided.
As to Samuel Adams, hurried away by the enthusiasm of his patri-
otic sentiments, he had probably acted from no other motive but the
good of the state ; even he thought it prudent, however, to keep aloof
from the officers and soldiers, under the apprehension of injury from
the effects of their fury. If the congress, yielding to the artifices
and importunities of the enemies of Washington, had been induced
to take the resolutions we have related, they were nevertheless not
ignorant how dangerous, in affairs of state, are changes made with-
out due reflection. They were perfectly aware that France, whose
intervention they hoped soon to obtain, would never repose in a man
English born, as was Gates, the unbounded confidence she had al-
ready placed in the American chief. They could not but perceive
that, though there might be a warrior possessed of talents equal to
those of Washington, there was none who could rival him in fidelity,
in rectitude, in goodness, and still less in the esteem of the people and
the affection of the soldiers. Upon these considerations, the congress
maintained a firm stand against all intrigues, and manifested no ap-
pearance of a disposition to take the supreme command from one
who had approved himselt so worthy to hold it. Washington was
fully apprised of the artifices that were employed to diminish his
well earned reputation ; far from allowing them to intimidate him,
he did not even appear to notice them. He indulged none of that
secret discontent which men of weak minds, or whose hearts are de-
voured by ambition, are too apt, in similar circumstances, to cherish
against their country ; his zeal for his duty never experienced the
smallest remission. This conjuncture certainly enabled him to ex-
hibit his moderation and his constancy in all their splendor ; it prov-
ed that he could vanquish himself. He was in the midst of an ar-
my dejected by repeated defeats, destitute of every accommodation,
BOOK IX. THE AMERICAN WAR 67
and reduced to the verge of famine. Gates, at the same time, shone
with all the luster of recent victory, and all the renown of his an-
cient exploits. As to Washington, lacerated by the public prints,
denounced in anonymous letters, publicly accused by the represen-
tation of different provinces, even the congress seemed ready to aban-
don him to the fury of his enemies. In the midst of a storm so
formidable, he maintained entire, not only the stability, but even the
calmness of his mind ; all devotion to his country, he seemed to
have forgotten himself. The twenty-third of January he wrote
from Valley Forge, that neither interest nor ambition had engaged
him in the public service ; that he had accepted, and not solicited
the command ; that he had not undertaken it without that distrust
of himself, felt by every man not destitute of all knowledge, from
the apprehension of not being able to perform, worthily, the part
assigned him ; that, as far as his abilities had permitted, he had ful-
filled his duty, aiming as invariably at the object proposed, as the
magnetic needle points to the pole ; that as soon as the nation should
no longer desire his servicesfor another should be found more ca-
pable than himself, of satisfying its expectations, he should quit the
helm, and return to a private station, with as much pleasure as ever
the wearied traveler retired to rest ; that he wished from the bottom
of his heart, his successor might experience more propitious gales,
and less numerous obstacles ; that if his exertions had not answered
the expectations of his fellow citizens, no one could lament it more
sincerely than himself; but that he thought proper to add, a day
would come, when the interests of America would no longer exact
of him an impenetrable mystery ; and that until then he would not
be the first to reveal truths which might prejudice his country, what-
ever wrongs to himself mighi result from his silence. By the con-
cluding words, he alluded to the insidious proceedings of the ambi-
tious, the shameful malversations of the army contractors, and the
peculations or delinquencies of all those by whose fault the army
was reduced to such an extremity of distress and calamity.
May this admirable moderation of Washington teach those in
elevated stations, that popular rewards and public favor should nev-
er be measured by the standard of self-love, and that though the
rulers of nations are often ungrateful, men who sincerely love their
country, may still find consolations and glory in knowing how to
control even a just resentment.
Washington, in the midst of so trying a crisis, not only always
kept the mastery of himself} but he often consulted the congress
upon the military operations he meditated, upon the measures to be
token, in order to fill up the regiments ; and, finally, upon all the
68 THE AMERICAN WAR. BOOK IX.
means of placing the army in a condition to commence the ensuing
campaign with the necessary resources.
It was known that the British general expected large re-inforce-
ments from Europe ; Washington was desirous of resuming hostilities
early, in order to attack him before they arrived. This plan was of
extreme importance ; he was accordingly indefatigable in urging the
congress and the governments of the several states, by frequent let-
ters, that the preparations for the campaign might experience no
delay. All would equally have wished to comply with the desires
of the commander-in-chief ; but deliberations are taken of necessity
but tardily in popular governments.
What ought to have been ready in the beginning of spring, was
but scantily forthcoming in the course of all the summer. Even
the organization of the army was not completed until about the last
of May. Until then there was observed an extreme disparity, not
only between the regiments of different states, but even between those
of the same state ; a confusion procluctive of singular detriment to
the service. But by a decree of the OTth of May, the infantry, caval-
ry, artillery, and engineers, were organized upon an uniform system
in all parts of the army. These delays might have proved essential-
ly prejudicial to the American arms, if unforeseen events had not
prevented the British generals from opening the campaign so soon
as they would have desired. They contented themselves with de-
taching their light troops to scour the country in the neighborhood
of Philadelphia and the nearer parts of New Jersey, in order to forage
and secure the roads. These excursions produced nothing remarka-
ble, except it be that an English detachment having surprised, in
the month of March, a party of Americans at the bridges of Qiiintori
and Hancock, all the soldiers who composed it were barbarously
massacred, while crying for quarter. The English, about the same
time, undertook an expedition up the Delaware, in order to destroy
the magazines of BordentoWn, and to take or burn the vessels which
the Americans had withdrawn up the river between Philadelphia
and Trenton. In both these enterprises they succeeded to their
wishes. They attempted also to surprise the marquis de la Fayette,
who was encamped at Baron Hill, on the left bank of the Schuylkill.
with a considerable body of troops ; but he baffled thejr enterprise
by his activity and judicious dispositions, although in the commence-
ment of the action, general Grant had obtained some advantage
over him.
While these events were passing on lan*d, hostilities were also
prosecuted upon sea, where the Americans daily acquired reputation.
They manifested so bold and enterprising a spirit in their maritime
BOOK. IX. THE AMERICAN AVAR 69
expeditions, that the British commerce suffered on their part incred-
ible losses. Since the commencement of the war in 1776, they
had already captured upwards of five hundred English vessels, of
different sizes, and all with cargoes of great value. Emboldened by
their success, even the coasts of Great Britain were not secure from
theii insults, where they daily took numerous prizes. The royal
navy, however, opposed their enterprises, and took many of their
ships in the seas of America and of Europe ; but the advantage,
nevertheless, remained very decidedly with the Americans.
In the meantime, sir Henry Clinton was arrived at Philadelphia,
having been appointed commander-in-chief of all the royal forces, in
the place of sir William Howe, who returned to England. Dissatis-
fied with the ministers, who had not sent him all the re-inforcements
he considered necessary to the decision of the war, he had offered
his resignation, and the ministers had accepted it with promptitude.
They did not forgive him for not having more effectually co-operated
with Burgoyne, and for not having displayed all the vigor, in the
conduct of the war, which thej would have desired. And certainly
he rather merits the praise of a prudent than of an adventurous
commander. If commendation is due him for the vigor and rare
ability he actually displayed in certain expeditions, perhaps he will
not escape reprehension for not having undertaken any of greater
magnitude and of more importance. In the commencement of the
war, when the minds in America were most inflamed, and the English
had not yet collected their troops, or received their re-inforcements,
perhaps this circumspection and this dilatory system of war, was well
judged ; for never should all be committed to fortune with only a
partial exertion of force ; and the enemy is attacked at the greatest
advantage after his ardor has already cooled. But when a great
part of the Americans, exhausted by expenses, wearied by a long
war and by the scarcity of every thing, were become more disposed
to return to their former condition, and when the English had receiv-
ed all the re-inforcements they could expect, the British general
should have placed all his hopes of victory in the rapidity and terror
of his arms. This course seems to have been recommended to him
by prudence itself, when it is considered, that besides the probability
of victory, which a regular battle always offered to the English, the
total defeat of the army of congress involved, if not infallibly, at
least in all likelihood, the absolute submission of America ; while, on
the other hand, the rout of the British army would not have rendered
the Americans more inflexible than they were, and, moreover, would
not in the least have changed the dispositions of the. French govern-
ment, which, since the capitulation of Saratoga, manifestly tended to
70 THE AMERICAN WAR. BOOK IX.
war. The consequences of a decisive victory were, theiefore, more
advantageous than those of the most complete discomfiture could
have been detrimental. Howe valued himself upon being thought
very sparing of the blood of his soldiers, as he could only draw re-
inforcements from so great a distance ; and, perhaps, he feared that
if he lost a pitched battle, the inhabitants might rise in fury and ut-
terly exterminate the relics of his routed army. But so sanguinary
an overthrow was not to be apprehended with such soldiers and with
such officers. Besides, in the worst event, he was sure of a retreat
on board the fleet, by rallying the troops in a place accessible to it.
On any hypothesis, things were now got to such a head, that it
was essential to strike a decisive blow ; for, upon the continuance of
a war in which France was about to take part, the independence of
America could scarcely appear doubtful. However the truth was,
Howe certainly possessed an elevated and generous mind ; he had
also the desire, though rarely the power, to prevent the atrocities
perpetrated by his troops ; no curb could restrain the brutal fury of
the Germans who followed his standard. Humane towards his sol-
diers, affable with his officers, a foe to disorder and violence, he was
the object of general esteem and affection.
Before his departure, the officers of the army were disposed to
give him a brilliant carousal ; it consisted in jousts and tournaments,
marches, evolutions, triumphal arches and honorary inscriptions.
This entertainment, from the variety of ingredients, was called a
medley. The evening terminated with a magnificent exhibition of
fireworks. Sir William Howe embarked, a few days after, on board
the frigate Andromeda. He arrived the second of July at London,
where the ministerial party assailed him with torrents of invective,
while that in opposition exalted him above the stars.
'
END OF BOOK NINTH.
BOOK X. THE AMERICAN WAR 71
BOOK TENTH.
1778. ON hearing of the catastrophe which had befallen Bur-
goyne, and of the almost fruitless victories of Howe, the British
nation was seized with sullen affliction and discontent. The dejec-
tion was as profound as the hopes conceived had been sanguine, and
the promises of ministers magnificent.
The parliament had acquiesced in all their demands, with respect
to the prosecution of the war, and they had not failed to transmit to
America, with promptitude, whatever was essential to the success of
the preceding campaign. The generals invested with command,
and the soldiers who had fought under them, were not inferior in rep-
utation to any that England, or even Europe could produce. Hence
it was inferred, that there must exist in the very nature of things,
some insurmountable obstacle to victory, and the issue of the war
began to be despaired of. For better or stronger armies could not
be dispatched to America, than those which had already been sent ;
and if the Americans, in the outset of their revolution, had not only
withstood the English troops, but if they had even vanquished and
disarmed them, of what might they not be thought capable in future,
when, deriving new confidence from their successes, they should
have consolidated their state by practice and experience, and availed
themselves of the time which had been allowed them, to develope
still greater forces against their enemies ? Accordingly, so far from
there being any prospect of gaining what was not possessed, the
danger appeared imminent of losing what was. Great fears were
entertained especially for Canada, where the garrisons were extreme-
ly feeble, and the victorious army was upon the frontiers. No little
apprehension was also felt, lest, in the heat of parties, some commotion
might break out within that province, prejudicial to the interests of
the king ; independence being an enticing lure for every people, and
especially for distant nations, and the example of the Americans was
likely to influence their neighbors. Nor could it be dissembled, be-
sides, that the Canadians, being French, for the most part, their na-
tional aversion would tend to fortify this natural proclivity, and final-
ly, perhaps, produce some formidable convulsion. The British gov-
ernment beheld with grief, that enlistments became every day more
difficult in America, where the loyalists appeared intimidated by the
recent victories of the republicans ; and even in England, where the
spirit of opposition showed itself more powerfully than ever, an ex-
treme repugnance was evidenced to bearing arms in a distant and
72 THE AMERICA?" WAR. BOOK X.
dangerous war, which many pronounced unjust and cruel, and which,
even at that epoch, every thing announced, must terminate inglori-
ously. Nor was the prospect more flattering of obtaining new troops
from Germany ; for the enormous armies kept on foot by the empe-
ror, and the king of Prussia, exacted such a multitude of recruits,
that the agents of England could not hope to procure them in any
considerable number. Moreover, the intervention of France and the
commissioners of congress with those sovereigns, or that disposition
to favor the American cause, which unequivocally manifested itself
in all parts of Europe, had already determined several German
princes to refuse a passage through their states to those feeble par-
ties of recruits which, with incredible pains and expense, were glean-
ed by the British agents. But there was one consideration which,
more than any other, impeded the success of their negotiations ; the
moment was manifestly approaching, when France would declare
herself in favor of the Americans, no longer by secret intrigues, or the
tacit protection afforded to their privateers, but openly, and with
arms in hand. Already all her preparations for war, and especially
her maritime armaments, were completed. The late victories of the
Americans upon the borders of the Hudson, and even the constan-
cy they had exhibited after their reverses upon the banks of the
Delaware, were sufficient pledges that their cause might be espoused
without any hazard of finding in them a fickle, a faithless, or a fee-
ble ally. The occasion so long and so ardently desired by the French
for humbling the British power and arrogance, was at length offered
them by propitious fortune. Their wishes were admirably served by
the blind obstinacy of the British ministers and generals, who had
judged as erroneously of the nature and importance of things, as of
the valor and constancy of the Americans. It was not at all doubted
in England, that France would avail herself of the means which
presented themselves to her grasp, to repair her ancient losses. This
inevitable crisis took strong hold of the public attention, and all
perceived the necessity either of a long, and in no common degree
perilous struggle, or of an accommodation, upon little honorable
terms, with that very people whose petitions had always been reject-
ed, and who had been exasperated by so many outrages, before they
were assailed by so cruel a war. Though the ministers and their ad-
herents failed not to advance plausible reasons to justify themselves,
and to authorize their conduct, yet the general opinion inclined to
consider it as the most prudent counsel to listen at length to the de-
mands of the Americans, and to adopt the course of procedure re-
peatedly proposed by the orators of the opposition, who had lecorn-
mended that hostilities should be suspended, and a negotiation set on
BOOK X. THE AMERICAN WAR 73
foot, which might lead to an admissible adjustment. Heavy complaints
were heard on all parts, that so many favorable occasions for reconcil-
iation had been allowed to escape, as if it was intended to wait the ar-
rival of that fatal moment when it would no longer be possible either
to negotiate with honor, or to fight with glory ; and when, instead
of any hope of subduing or conciliating America, there was too much
reason to fear the loss of other inestimable portions of the British
empire.
All the attempts made previous to that time, for reducing the Amer-
icans to submission by force of arms, having proved completely
abortive, it was bitterly regretted that, before undertaking new effo
the failure of which must secure the triumph of the enemy,
had not been a disposition to listen to the. conciliatory propositions
submitted to parliament by the earl of Chatham, in the sitting of the
thirtieth of May, of the year last elapsed. Foreseeing the calami-
ties which were about to fall upon his country, since the ministers
were resolved to prosecute extreme measures, and perceiving dis-
tinctly that to the dangers of an intestine struggle would soon be
added the perils of a foreign war, this illustrious man, though bowed
with age, and laboring under a painful malady, had caused himself
to be carried to the house of lords, where, in that strain of admira-
ble eloquence, which always chained attention, he exerted the most
magnanimous efforts to appease animosities, to extinguish the flames
of war, to procure the repeal of those disastrous laws which had light-
ed them, and opposed an insuperable bar to the return of concord.
' My lords,' he said, ' this is a flying moment, perhaps but six weeks
left to arrest the dangers that surround us. The gathering storm
may break ; it has already opened, and in part burst. It is difficult
for government, after all that has passed, to shake hands with the
defiers of the king, defiers of the parliament, defiers of the people.
I am a defier of nobody ; but if an end is not put to this war, there
is an end to this country. I do not trust my judgment in my pres-
ent state of health ; this is the judgment of my better days ; the re-
sult of forty years' attention to America.
' They are rebels ; but what are they rebels for ? Surely not for
defending their unquestionable rights ? What have these rebels done
heretofore ? I remember when they raised four regiments on their
own bottom, and took Louisburgh from the veteran troops of France.
But their excesses have been great. I do not mean their panegyric ;
but must observe in attenuation, the erroneous and infatuated coun-
sels which have prevailed , the door to mercy and justice has been
shut against them. But they mny still he taken up upon the grounds
of their former submission. I state to you the importance of Amer
74 THE AMERICAN WAR. BOOK X.
ica ; it is a double market ; the market of consumption and the mar-
ket of supply. This double market for millions, with naval stores, you
are giving to your hereditary rival. America has carried you through
four wars, and will now carry you to your death, if you don't take
things in time. In the sportsman's phrase, when you have found
yourselves at fault, you must try back. You have ransacked every
corner of Lower Saxony ; but forty thousand German boors never
can subdue ten times the number of British freemen ; they may
ravage, they cannot conquer.
' But you would conquer, you say ! Why, what would you conquer ;
the map of America ? I am ready to meet any general officer on the
subject. What will you do out of the protection of your fleet ? In
the winter, if together, your troops are starved ; and if dispersed, they
are taken off in detail. I am experienced in spring hopes and vernal
promises ; I know what ministers throw out ; but at last will come
your equinoctial disappointment. They tell you — what ? That your
army will be as strong as last year, when it was not strong enough.
You have got nothing in America but stations. You have been three
years teaching them the art of war ; they are apt scholars ; and 1
will venture to tell your lordships, that the American gentry will make
officers enough, fit to command the troops of all the European
powers. What you have sent there, are too many to make peace,
too few to make war. If you conquer them, what then ? You can-
not make them respect you ; you cannot make them wear your cloth.
You will plant an invincible hatred in their breasts against you. You
are giving America to France at the expense of twelve millions a
year. The intercourse has produced every thing to her ; and Eng-
land, old England, must pay for all. Your trade languishes, your
taxes increase, your revenues dwindle ; France, at this moment, is
securing and drawing to herself that commerce which created your
seamen, which fed your islands, which was the principal source of
your wealth, prosperity and power. We have tried for unconditional
submission ; try what can be gained by unconditional redress. We
shall thus evince a conciliatory spirit, and open the way to concord.
' The ministers affirm there is no sort of treaty with France.
Then there is still a moment left ; the point of honor is still safe.
The instant a treaty appears you must declare war, though you had
only five ships of the line in England ; but France will defer a treaty
as long as possible, to wait the effect of our self-destroying counsels.
You are now at the mercy of every little German chancery ; and
the pretensions of France will increase daily, so as to become an
avowed party in either peace or war. The dignity of the govern-
ment is objected; but less dignity will be lost in the repeal of
BOOK X THE AMERICAN WAR. 75
oppressive laws, than in submitting to the demands of German chan-
ceries. We are the aggressors. We have invaded the colonists
as much as the Spanish armada invaded England. Mercy cannot
do harm ; it will seat the king where he ought to be, throned in the
hearts of his people ; and millions at home and abroad, now employed
in obloquy and revolt, would pray for him. The revocation I propose,
and amnesty, may produce a respectable division in America, and
unanimity at home. It will give America an option ; she has yet
had no option. You have said, " Lay down your arms" and she
has given you the Spartan answer, " Come, take." '
Neither the authority of such a man, nor the force of his sp^|h,
nor present evils, nor yet the fear of future, were sufficient to proWre
the adoption of his proposition. Those who opposed it, contended
that it would by no means satisfy the Americans, since from the out-
set they had aimed at independency. They talked of the dignity of
the realm, of the weakness of France, of the number of loyalists
ready to declare themselves, the moment an occasion should offer
itself; they harangued upon the tyranny of congress, already become
insupportable to all the Americans, upon the emptiness of its treasury,
and the rapid depreciation of the bills of credit ; finally, they en-
larged upon that impatience which was universally manifested for
the return of order, and the blessings enjoyed by the rest of the sub-
jects of the British government.
In the midst of these contradictions had been agitated the question
of peace and war, while the veil of uncertainty still shaded the future,
and experience had not yet ascertained the effect of all the forces
sent into America. But now the trial had been made, and the result
being on the one hand so calamitous, and so dubious on the other,
the obstinacy of ministers was almost universally condemned, while
the wisdom and foresight of the earl of Chatham were extolled to
the skies. That such opinions should have been entertained by those
whose interests and passions were so immediately concerned, is cer-
tainly no matter of astonishment ; but it may be advanced with
confidence, that the measure proposed by this, in other respects,
most sagacious statesman, would have resulted in very doubtful con-
sequences, to use no stronger words.
At this time, the Americans had already declared their indepen-
dence ; what the proposed concession, seconded by formidable
armies, might have operated before this declaration, they could no
longer have done after it, especially when by the effect of this very
declaration, and of the lesistance made to the arms of Howe upon
the territory of New Jersey, the Americans confidently expected to
obtain the succors of France. Besides, if, at this epoch, the issue
76 THE AMERICAN WAR. BOOK X.
of a negotiation was uncertain, it would indubitably have reflected
little honor upon the government to have condescended to an ar-
rangement, without having first made a trial of the efficacy of the
armies it had collected and sent to America, with so much effort,
and at so heavy an expense. Victory, too, as it was reasonable to
think, would have produced submission, or at least conditions more
favorable to Great Britain.
The ministers therefore being resolved to continue the war, exerted
their utmost diligence to repair those evils which the faults of men,
or an inauspicious destiny, had drawn upon the state in the course of
thajD receding year. Their attention was first directed to the means
of^Rsing new troops, and of procuring more abundant pecuniary
resources than had been granted them by the parliament. They
reflected, that although there was a powerful party in the kingdom
who condemned the American war, still there existed another who
approved it highly, either from conviction or from their devotion to
the ministry. To this class they addressed themselves, not doubting
their readiness to assist them with zeal in procuring the men and the
funds they wanted. Dreading, however, the clamors of the opposi-
tion, wh" might represent this levy of soldiers and money, though
voluntary, as a violation of the constitution, they carried this scheme
into effect in the recess of parliament, which happened at the begin-
ning of the current year, and which, with the same object in view,
they prolonged beyond the accustomed term. They were the more
sanguine in their hopes of success, inasmuch as, since the declaration
of independence, and the secret alliance with France, of which
every day furnished new evidences, the greater part of those who
had shown themselves at first the warmest partisans of the Americans,
had now deserted them, and gone over to the ministerial party. The
ministers accordingly dispatched their agents into the different prov-
inces of the kingdom, and especially those where they had the
greatest influence, with instructions to spur the inhabitants to enlist>
and to lend their support to the state by voluntary gifts. These-
emissaries were to expatiate on the ingratitude of the Americans,
the enmity of France, the necessities of the country, the glory and
splendor of the English name, which must be transmitted unsullied
to posterity. Their exertions were attended with success in some
cities of the first order, and even in some towns of inferior rank ;
but none manifested greater zeal than Liverpool and Manchester,
each of which raised, at their own expense, a regiment of a thousand
men. The Scotch, naturally a warlike people, and much devoted
to the cause of government in the present war, exhibited the utmost
ardor to engage in the service. Edinburgh levied a thousand men,
BOOK X. THE AMERICAN WAR. 77
Glasgow an equal number. The Highlanders, a hardy race, descend-
ed in hordes from their craggy hills, to follow the royal standard.
Equal promptitude was manifested in contributing to the public
expense, and free gifts multiplied every day. The government would
have wished that the city of London, on account of its population
and wealth, and of its importance as the capital of the kingdom, had
placed itself at the head of this contribution. It was hoped that
city would raise and maintain at its own expense five thousand men
for three years, or until the end of the war. This hope proved illu-
sory. The citizens, being convened, refused peremptorily. The
common council returned an answer equally unfavorable. The
partisans of the ministry were not discouraged. They vociferated
at every corner that it was a shame for the city of London, that, after
having voted, but a few days before, considerable sums for the relief
of Americans taken with arms in hand leveled against England, it
should now refuse to give the slightest succor to the country. The
friends of the ministry assembled, and subscribed twenty thousand
pounds sterling. The same maneuvers took place at Bristol, and
with the same, success. This city would not furnish troops ; it con-
sented only to give the same sum as London. The ministers expe-
rienced still more difficulties in the country ; the landholders being
grown sulky at the weight of their assessments, and at having been
deceived by promises that the American taxes were to be in diminu-
tion of their own. Upon the whole, this project of voluntary levies,
and gratuitous contributions, though not absolutely fruitless^ was still
very far from affording the resources which had been counted upon.
It, however, became the subject of violent declamations in parlia-
ment ; but with the usual event ; the ministry triumphed.
While such was the procedure of the English government, in order
to sustain the struggle in which it was engaged, the congress urged
with new fervor the negotiations which they had already, a long time
back, set on foot with the court of France. The American com-
missioners had left nothing unessayed that could decide it to declare
openly in their favor ; but however pressing were their solicitations
with the French ministers to induce them to take a definitive reso-
lution, they had not as yet obtained any thing but evasive and dila-
tory answers.- In this first period of the American revolution, con-
sidering the uncertainty of its issue, France hesitated to espouse
the quarrel of a people whose force appeared insufficient to sustain
the pressure of so perilous an enterprise. She feared lest the colo-
nists might all at once desist, and resume all their ancient relations
with England. Those who directed the counsels of France were
not ignorant, that at the very moment in which she should declare
78 THE AMERICAN WAR. BOOK X.
herself, the British ministry, by acquiescing in the concessions de-
manded by the Americans, might instantly disarm them, and that
France would then find herself alone saddled with a war, without
motive, and without object.
To this consideration was added, that before coming to an open
rupture with Great Britain, it was essential to restore order in the
finances, and to re establish the marine, both having suffered exces-
sively from the disorder, disasters and prodigality of the preceding
reign. The declaration of independence, it is true, had removed
the danger of a sudden reconciliation ; but it was still possible to
doubt the success of resistance. JVbr should we omit to say, that,
though France would rather see America independent, than recon-
ciled with England, she relished the prospect of a long war between
them still better than independence. Perhaps, even, she would have
liked best of all a conquest by dint of arms, and the consequent
subjugation ; for, upon this hypothesis, the English colonies, rav-
aged and ruined, would have ceased to enrich the mother country,
by the benejits of their commerce in time of peace ; and in time of
war, the English would no longer have found in their colonists those
powerful auxiliaries, who so often had succored them with so much
efficacy. Should the colonies, though vanquished, preserve their
ancient prosperity, then England would be constrained to maintain
in them a part of her force, in order to prevent the revolts she
would have continually to dread on the part of a people impressed
with the recollection of so many outrages and cruelties.
But upon the second hypothesis, or that of independence, it was
impossible to dissemble that the example would be pernicious for
the colonies of the other European powers, and that the smallest of
the probable inconveniences, would be the necessity of granting
them, to the great prejudice of the mother country, a full and entire
liberty of commerce. These considerations, carefully weighed by
the French ministers, so v/rought, that repressing their ardor for war,
they covered their projects with an impenetrable veil, and drew the
negotiation into length. They restricted themselves to expressions
of benevolence towards the Americans, and to granting them clan-
destinely the succors we have spoken of in another place. And
even those succors were furnished with more or less mystery, more
or less liberality, as fortune showed herself propitious or adverse to
the American arms. Such was the rigor with which France adhered,
or appeared to adhere, to this wary policy, either with a view of not
breaking before the time with England, or in order the more effec-
tually to place the Americans at her discretion, and constrain them
to subscribe to all her demands, that when the news arrived at Paris
BOOK X. THE AMERICAN WAR. 79
of the capture of Ticonderoga, and of the victorious march oi Bur-
goyne towards Albany, events which seemed to decide in favor of
the English, instructions were immediately dispatched to Nantz, and
the other ports of the kingdom, that no American privateers should
be suffered to enter them, except from indispensable necessity, as
to repair their vessels, to obtain provisions, or to escape the perils
of the sea. Thus France, pursuing invariably the route prescribed
by reason of state, which admirably suited her convenience, on the
one hand amused the British ministers with protestations of friend-
ship, and on the other encouraged the Americans with secret suc-
cors, by the uncertainty and scantiness of them, inflaming their ardor,
and confirming their resolution by continual promises of future co-
operation. Unshackled in her movements, she thus pledged her-
self to no party, but tranquilly waited to see what course things
would take. The agents of congress did not fail, however, to urge
and besiege the cabinet of Versailles to come at length to a final
decision. But the French ministers, with many tosses and shrugs,
alledge^ a variety of excuses in support of their system of procras-
tination, at one time, that the fleet expected from Newfoundland,
crowded with excellent seamen, was not yet arrived ; at another, that
the galleons of Spain were still at sea, and now some other subter-
fuge was invented. Thus alternately advancing and receding, never
allowing their intentions to be fathomed, they kept the Americans
in continual uncertainty. Finally, the commissioners, out of all pa-
tience, and determined, if practicable, without waiting longer, to ex-
tricate themselves from this labyrinth, imagined an expedient for
reducing the French ministers themselves to the necessity of drop-
ping the vizor ; this was to suggest, that if France did not assist
them immediately, the Americans could defer no longer a voluntar)
or compulsory arrangement with England.
To this effect, they waited upon the ministers about the middle
of August, 1777, with a memorial in which they represented, that if
France supposed that the war could be continued for any consider-
able time longer without her interference, she was much mistaken.
1 Indeed,' continued the memorial, ' the British government have
every thing to lose and nothing to gain, by continuing the war.
After the present campaign, they will therefore doubtless make it
their great and last effort to recover the dominion of America, and
terminate the war. They probably hope that a few victories may,
by the chance of war, be obtained ; and that these on one hand, and
the wants and distresses of the colonists on the other, may induce
them to return again to a dependence, more or less limited, on Great
Britain They must be sensible, that if ever America is to be con-
80 THE AMERICAN WAR. BOOK X.
quered by them, it must be within the present year ; that if it be
impossible to do it in this year of the dispute, it will be madness to
expect more success afterwards, when the difficulties of the Ameri-
cans' former situation are removed ; when their new independent
governments have acquired stability ; and when the people are be-
come, as they soon will be, well armed, disciplined and supplied with
all the means of resistance.
' The British ministry must therefore be sensible, that a continu-
ation of hostilities against the colonies, after this year, can only tend
to prolong the danger, or invite an additional war in Europe ; and
they therefore doubtless intend, after having tried the success of this
campaign, however it may end, to make peace on the best terms
which can be obtained ; and if they cannot recover the colonies as
subjects, to admit their claim of independency, and secure them by
a federal alliance. Therefore no means are left for France to pre-
vent the colonists from being shortly reconciled to Great Britain,
either as subjects or allies, but to enter immediately into such engage-
ments with them as will necessarily preclude all others ; such as will
permanently bind and secure their commerce and friendship, and
enable them as well to repel the attacks, as to spurn at the offers of
their present enemy.
' France must remember/ it was added, ' that the first resistance
of the colonists was not to obtain independency, but a redress of their
grievances ; and that there are many among them who might even
now be satisfied with a limited subjection to the British crown. A
majority has indeed put in for the prize of independency ; they have
done it on a confidence that France, attentive to her most important
interests, would soon give them open and effectual support. But
when they find themselves disappointed ; when they see some of
the powers of Europe furnish troops to assist in their subjugation >
another power, alluding to Portugal, proscribing their commerce ;
and the rest looking on as indifferent spectators ; it is .very probable
that, despairing of foreign aid, and severely pressed by their enemies
and their own internal wants and distresses, they may be inclined to
accept of such terms as it will be the interest of the British govern-
ment to grant them. Lord George Germain, but a few weeks sinca
declared in the house of commons that his hope of ending the Amer-
ican war this year, was principally founded on the disappointment
which the colonists would feel, when they discover that no assistance
is likely to be given them from France. The British adherents in
America will spare no pains to spread and increase that disappoint-
ment, by discouraging representations ; they already intimate thai
France, equally hostile to both parties, foments the present war,
BOOK X. THE AMERICAN WAR. 81
only to make them mutually instrumental in each other's destruc-
tion.
' Should Great Britain, by these and other means, detach the
colonies, and re-unite them to herself, France will irrecoverably lose
the most favorable opportunity ever offered to any nation, of hum-
oling a powerful, arrogant, and hereditary enemy.
'But it is not simply the opportunity of reducing Great Britain,
which France will lose by her present inactivity ; for her own safety,
and that of all her American possessions, will be endangered .the
moment in which a reconciliation takes place between Britain and
America. The king and ministry of Great Britain know and feel
that France has encouraged and assisted the colonists in their pres-
ent resistance ; and they are as much incensed against her, as they
would be, were she openly to declare war. In truth, France has
clone too much, unless she intends to do more.
' Can any one doubt but that whenever peace with America is ob-
tained by Great Britain, whatever may be the conditions of it, the
whole British force now on the continent of America, will be sud-
denly transported to the West Indies, and employed in subduing the
French sugar islands there, to recompense the losses and expenses
which Great Britain has suffered and incurred in this war, and to
revenge the insult and injury France has done her by the encourage-
ment and assistance which she is supposed to have secretly given
the colonists against Great Britain ?'
Such was the purport of the memorial presented to the French
government, in order to terminate its hesitations ; but this also was
without success. The ministers were no less ingenious in discover-
ing new evasions ; they chose to wait to see the progress of this war.
The news of the taking of Ticonderoga, and the fear of still more
decisive operations on the part of general Howe, maintained their
doubts and indecision. They were loath to have no other part to
play than extending the hand to insurgents, when already their
wreck appeared inevitable. We venture not to say, that in this
occurrence was again verified the vulgar maxim : -the unfortunate
have no friends; but it appeared, at least, that the cabinet of Ver-
sailles was determined to procrastinate until the distress of the Amer-
icans was arrived, at such a point as to become their only law ; that
it might obtain from them the better conditions for France. Besides,
as at this time there was much appearance that the British arms
would carry all before them, an accommodation between the mother
country and the colonies seemed less probable than ever ; and tl/is
was what the French government had feared the most. The minis-
ters of England, supposing them victorious in America, would have
VOL. n. 6
82 THE AMERICAN WAR. BOOK X.
Ustened to no conditions short of an absolute submission ; and the
French appeared to desire this extremity even more than indepen-
dence, provided only, that it was introduced by a long and desolat-
ing war.
Disgusted by so many delays, the American commissioners nq long-
er entertained any doubt as to the secret policy which guided the
French in this conjuncture. In their despair, they had well nigh
broken off all negotiation with a government that reputed their mis-
fortunes a source of prosperity to itself. Unable, therefore, to ac-
complish their views with France, and discerning no other prospect
of safety, the Americans again addressed themselves to England,
proposing to her the recognition of their independence. This point
conceded, they would have yielded, in all others, to such conditions
as should most tend to save the honor of the mother country. They
represented, that if the British ministry knew how to profit of the
occasion, it depended on themselves to stipulate an arrangement so
conducive to the prosperity of Great Britain, that she would seek in
vain to procure herself similar advantages by any other means. But
the British government, elated with the first successes of Burgoyne,
and persuaded that fortune could not escape him, refused to listen
to any overtures for accommodation, and rejected the proposition
with disdain. The blindness of the British ministers was incurable ;
the Americans, in the midst of the most disastrous reverses, and de-
prived of all hope of foreign succor, strenuously refusing to renounce
their independence, insisting even to make it an indispensable con-
dition of their reconciliation, it was manifest that the re-union of the
two states was become impossible ; and that since the necessity of
things and inexorable destiny pronounced that America should no
longer be subject, it was better to have her for an ally than for an ene-
my. But the defeat and capture of Burgoyne, by announcing with
such energy the rising greatness of America, had given new ardor
to the patriots ; new hopes and new fears to the French. Their re-
ciprocal situation Became less ambiguous ; each began to manifest
more positive resolutions. England herself, if her king and his
ministers had yielded less to their individual prepossessions, would
have prudently paused ; and abandoning an enterprise above her
strength, '^ould have resorted to the only way of safety that she had
left. But pride, obstinacy and intrigue are too often the ruin of
states; and lord Bute was incessantly smoothing that route for
tying George. After the victory of Saratoga, the Americans pur-
sued with rare sagacity the policy prescribed by their new circum-
stances. Their conduct demonstrated as much ability as experience
in affairs of state. They reflected, that as their successes had in-
BOOK X. THE AMERICAN WAR. 83
creased their strength, rendered their alliance more desirable, and
banished all doubts from enlightened minds respecting their inde-
pendence, nothing could be better calculated on their part, than to
give jealousy to France, by pretending a disposition to make alliance
with England ; and disquietude to England, by the appearance of
courting the strictest union with France. They hoped by this con-
duct to arrive at length to something conclusive. Accordingly, the
same express that carried to England the news of the capitulation of
Saratoga, was the bearer of dispatches, the drift of which was to
insinuate, that the Americans, disgusted by the excessive delays of
the French, and indignant at not having received in the midst of their
reverses, avowed and more efficacious succors, were eagerly desirous
of an accommodation with England, and to conclude with her a
treaty of commerce, provided she acknowledged their independence.
In order to give more weight to this suggestion, it was added, that
the colonists would feel particular gratification in a reconciliation
with their ancient country; whereas, in the contrary case, they
should be compelled to throw themselves into the arms of the in-
veterate and implacable enemy of the English name.
General Gates, on whom his recent victory reflected so much
luster, wrote, to the same effect, to one of the most distinguished
members of parliament. These steps of the chiefs of the American
revolution were likewise necessary to satisfy the people, who would
not, without extreme repugnance, have seen themselves thrust pre-
cipitately into the party of France, before having attempted every
probable mode of effecting an adjustment with England. The pre-
judices they entertained against France were still in all their force ;
and the persuasion that this power had speculated upon their misfor-
tunes, had greatly exasperated their aversion. These negotiations
were no secret to the court of Versailles, as they had been commu-
nicated to Franklin, who knew how to make the best use of them ;
the umbrage they gave the French ministers will be readily con-
ceived. Franklin, about the same time, received instructions to
reiterate his expostulations with the government, that it might at
length discover itself, since otherwise, it was to be feared that Eng-
land, convinced by the catastrophe of Burgoyne, and even by the
useless victories, of Howe, that the reduction of America, by dint of
arms, was absolutely impossible, would acknowledge independence.
The Americans, . he added, finding themselves deserted by the
French, will be constrained to listen to the overtures of the English,
and to accept of favor wherever they find it ; and such an arrange-
ment could not have effect but to the irreparable prejudice of the
interests of France. The ministers perceived clearly that the time
61 THE AMERICAN WAR. BOOK X.
was come, in which, if they would not lose the fruit of all their
policy, it was necessary finally to lay aside the personage of the fox.
and to assume the nature of the lion. Judging the British ministers
by themselves, they supposed them entirely exempt from all passion,
as statesmen ought to be ; consequently, fearing the measures which
their wisdom might prescribe, they determined to resume, and bring
to a conclusion, the negotiations they had opened already, so long
since, with the Americans, and which they had so shrewdly pro-
longed.
This decision appeared to them the more urgent, as they were not
ignorant that the great body of the inhabitants of America, their
independence once established, would much more willingly have
coalesced with the English, a people of the same blood, of the same
language, of the same manners, and still not entirely forgetful of
former friendship, than with the French, a nation not only foreign
and rival, but reputed faithless ; whose long hesitations had counte-
nanced the imputation, and against whom, from their tenderest child-
hood, they had fostered the most unfavorable prepossessions. On
the other hand, the Americans had supported three entire years of
the most trying distress, without having ever discovered the least
disposition to relinquish their enterprise, or the least mark of weari-
ness in their conflict with adverse fortune. Their moderation had
not deserted them in success ; and the perseverance of their- efforts
had given to the first victories of the English all the consequences
of defeats. These considerations had persuaded the ministers of
France, that America had knowledge, power, and will, to keep the
faith of treaties.
The resolution of finally taking an active part in this war, by
extending an auxiliary hand to the Americans, could not fail, besides,
of being highly agreeable to the greater part of the French nation.
The motive of it was not merely to be found in the inveterate hatred
borne the English, in the remembrance of recent wounds, in the
desire of revenge, and in the political opinions, which, at that period,
had spread throughout the kingdom, but also in numerous and pow-
erful considerations of commercial advantage. The trade which
had been carried on between France and America, since trie com-
mencement of disturbances, and especially since the breaking out of
hostilities, had yielded the French merchants immense gains. All
of these, therefore, eagerly desired that the new order of things
might be perpetuated by independence, in order never to see the
times revived, in which the prohibitory laws of parliament, and espe-
cially the act of navigation, would have deprived them of these
benefits. It is true, however, that they had not found this com-
BOOK X. THE AMERICAN WAR. 35
merce so lucrative as they had anticipated; for several of them,
hurried away by the excessive love of gain, and principally those of
the maritime cities, had dispatched to America ships loaded with
valuable merchandise, a great number of which had been taken on
the passage by the British cruisers. But even these losses stimulated
their desire to be able to continue the same commerce, and to wit-
ness the reduction of that British audacity which pretended to reign
alone upon an clement common to the whole universe. They hoped
that the royal navy in open war would afford protection to the ships
of commerce ; and that force would thus shield the enterprises of
cupidity. The French had, besides, in this conjuncture, the hope, or
rather the certainty, that Spain would take part in the quarrel. This
was a consideration of weight, in addition to the motives which
always influenced them. That kingdom had a formidable marine,
and was animated with so strong a desire to make trial of it against
England, that the French court, rigidly adhering to its plan of cir-
cumspection, had hitherto thought it prudent to check rather than
stimulate the cabinet of Madrid. It was not in the least doubted,
that all the united forces of the house of Bourbon, already so long
prepared, and directed towards the same object, were more than
sufficient to take down the intolerable arrogance of the English, to
protect rich cargoes from their insults, and even to cause the com-
merce of the two Indies to pass almost entirely into the^ hands of
the French and Spaniards.
Thus favored by circumstances, and by the voice of the people,
the" French government had more need of prudence to restrain it
from precipitating its resolutions, than of ardor, to incite it to en-
counter the hazards of fortune. Never, assuredly, had any govern-
ment to adopt a counsel more recommended by the unanimous and
ardent wishes of its subjects, or which promised a more fortunate
issue, or more brilliant advantages. Unable, therefore, to resist
longer the pressing solicitations of the agents of congress, the minis
tens resolved at length to seize the occasion, and to conclude with
America the treaty which had been the object of such long negotia-
tions. But as, heretofore, the intention of France had been to elude
any positive engagement, the articles of the convention, though often
and deliberately discussed, were not yet settled. Under the appre-
hension, however, that the British government, in case of further
delays, might tempt the Americans with conciliatory overtures, the
French ministers concluded to signify to the commissioners of con-
gress the preliminaries of the treaty of friendship and commerce, to
be stipulated between the two states. This communication was made
the sixteenth of December, 1777, by M. Gerard, royal syndic of the
86 THE AMERICAN WAR. BOOK X.
city of Strasbourg, and secretary of the king's council of state. Its
purport was as follows : ' That France would not only acknowledge,
but support with all her forces, the independence of the United
States, and would conclude with them a treaty of amity and com-
merce ; that in the stipulations of this treaty she would take no ad-
vantage of the present situation of the United States, but that the
articles of it should be of the same nature as if the said states had
been long established, and were constituted in all the plenitude of
their strength ; that his most Christian majesty plainly foresaw that in
taking this step, he should probably enter upon a war with Great
Britain ; but that he desired no indemnification upon that score on
the part of the United States ; not pretending to act solely with a
view to their particular interest, since, besides the benevolence he
bore them, it was manifest, that the power of England would be di-
minished by the dismemberment of her colonies. The king expect-
ed only, with full confidence, from the United States, that whatever
was the peace which might be concluded eventually, they would
never renounce their independence, and resume the yoke of British
domination.' This declaration on the part of France, re-assured the
minds of the Americans ; it was followed by very active negotiations
during all the month of January. They were immediately commu-
nicated to Spain, that she might also, if so inclined, become a party
to the convention ; nor was it long before a favorable answer was
received from that court.
All difficulties being surmounted, and the conditions acceded to
on the one part and on the other, upon the sixth of February was
concluded the treaty of amity between his most Christian majesty
and the United States of America. It was signed on behalf of the
king by M. Gerard, and for the United States by Benjamin Franklin,
Silas Deane, and Arthur Lee. By this treaty, in which the king of
France considered the United States of America as- an independent
nation, were regulated between the contracting parties, various mari-
time and commercial interests concerning the duties which merchant
vessels were to pay in the ports of the friendly state ; it guarantied
the reciprocal protection of vessels in time of war ; the right of fish-
ery, and especially that which the French carried on upon the banks
of Newfoundland, by virtue of the treaties of Utrecht and of Paris ;
it exempted from the right of Aubaine, as well the French in Amer-
ica, as the Americans in France ; it provided for the exercise of
commerce, and the admission of privateers with one of the contract-
ing parties, in case the other should be at war with a third power.
To this effect, in order to preclude all occasion of dissension, it was
determined by an express clause, what articles, in time of war, should
BOOK X. THE AMERICAN WAR. 81
be deemed contraband, and what should be considered free, and
consequently might be freely transported, and introduced by the sub-
jects of the two powers into enemy ports ; those excepted, however,
which should be found, at the time, besieged, blockaded or invested.
It was also agreed, that the ships and vessels of the contracting par-
ties should not be subject to any visit ; it being intended that all visit
or search should take place prior to the clearance of the shipping,
and that contraband articles should be seized in port, and not upon
the voyage, except, however, the cases, where there should exist in-
dications or proofs of fraud. It was stipulated, besides, that in or-
der to facilitate the commerce of the United States with France, his
most Christian majesty should grant them, as well in Europe as in
the islands of America, subject to his dominion, several free ports.
Finally, the king pledged himself to employ his good offices and me-
diation with the emperor of Morocco, and with the regencies of Al-
giers, Tripoli, Tunis, and other powers of the coast of Barbary, in
order that provision should be made in the best possible mode for
the accommodation and security of the citizens, ships, and merchan-
dise, ' of the United States of America.' It is to be observed", that
this treaty, besides the recognition made in it of American indepen-
dence, was completely subversive of the principles which the British
government had uniformly attempted to establish as well with respect
to the commerce of neutrals, in time of war, as with regard to the
"blockade of the ports of an enemy state by the British squadrons.
Consequently, it was easy to foresee that, although France had not
contracted to furnish succors of any sort to the United States, Great
Britain, nevertheless, on being so wounded to the quick in her pride,
and in her most essential interests, would manifest a keen resent-
ment, and would probably declare war against France. Hence it
was, that the contracting parties concluded the same day another,
eventual, treaty of alliance, offensive and defensive, which was to
take its effect so* soon as war should break out between France and
England. The two parties engaged to assist each other with good
offices, with counsel, and with arms. It was 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, sove-
reignty, and independence of the United States. It was also cove-
nanted, that if the remaining provinces of Great Britain upon the
American continent, or the Bermuda islands, came to be conquered,
they should become confederates or dependents of the United States ;
but if any of the islands were taken situated within, or at the en-
trance of the gulf of Mexico, these should belong to the crown of
France. It was agreed, that neither of the two parties could con-
THE AMERICAN WAR. BOOK X.
elude truce or peace with Great Britain without the consent of the
other. They reciprocally obligated themselves not to lay down
arms, until the independence of the United States should be either
formally or tacitly acknowledged in treaties which should terminate
the war. They guarantied to each other, that is, the United States
to the king of France, his present possessions in America, as well
as those he might obtain by the treaty of peace ; and the king of
France, to the United States, liberty, sovereignty and independence,
absolute and unlimited, as well in point of government as of com-
merce, and likewise those possessions, additions and conquests \vhich
the confederation might acquire in the domains of Great Britain in
North America. A separate and secret article reserved to the king
of Spain the faculty of becoming a party to the treaty of amity and
commerce, as well as to that of alliance, at such time as he should
think proper.
Thus France, ever bearing in mind the wounds received in the
war of Canada, and always jealous of the power of England, at first
by wily intrigues and distant suggestions, then by clandestine suc-
cors, and if convenient disavowed, had encouraged the English col-
onies in their resistance ; at length, openly taking them by the hand,
she saluted them independent. The French government displayed
a profound policy, and singular dexterity in the execution of this
plan ; it may even be affirmed, that in no other affair, however im-
portant, and in no other time, has it ever exhibited so much sagacity
and stability. Its operations were covert, while it was perilous to
come out, and it threw off the mask so soon as the successes of the
colonists permitted them to be looked upon as safe allies. It took
the field when its armies, and especially its fleets, were in perfect
preparation, when all its subjects were favorably disposed, when every
thing, in a word, promised victory. It would be difficult to paint the
transports of exultation which burst forth in France on the publi-
cation of the new treaties. The merchants enjoyed in advance those
riches which until then had been confined to the ports of England ;
the landholders imagined that their taxes would be diminished in
proportion to the increased prosperity of commerce ; the soldiers,
and especially the seamen, hoped to avenge their affronts, and re-
cover their ancient glory ; the generous spirits exulted that France
declared herself, as she should be, the protectress of the oppressed ;
the friends of liberal principles applauded her for having undertaken
the defense of liberty. All united in blessing the long wished for
occasion of repressing the detestable pride of a rival nation. All
were persuaded that the losses sustained in the preceding reign were
about to be repaired ; it was every where exclaimed, that the desii-
BOOK X. THE AMERICAN WAR. 89
nies promised to the crown of France weie about to be accom-
plished. ' Such,' it was said, ' are the happy auspices which usher
in the reign of a clement and beloved prince ; too long have we suf-
fered ; let us hail the dawn of a more fortunate future.' Nor was
it only in France that this enthusiasm of joy was witnessed ; the same
disposition of minds prevailed in almost all the states of Europe.
The Europeans lauded, and exalted to the skies, the generosity
and the magnanimity of Louis XVI. Such, at that time, was the
general abhorrence excited by the conduct of the British govern-
ment ; or such was the affection borne to the American cause.
Shortly after the subscription of the treaties, and long before they
were made public, the British ministry had knowledge of them.
It is asserted that some of its members, wishing to embrace this
occasion for the re-establishment of concord between the two parties,
proposed in the secret councils to acknowledge immediately the
independence of the colonies, and to negotiate with them a treaty of
commerce and alliance. But the king, either guided by his natural
obstinacy, or docile as heretofore to the instigations of lord Bute, re-
fused his consent to this measure. It was therefore resolved to pro-
ceed by middle ways, which, if they are the least painful, lead also
the most rarely to success. They consisted, on this occasion, not in
acknowledging independence, which, at this time, it was easier to
deny than to prevent, but in renouncing the right of taxation, in re-
voking the laws complained of, in granting pardons, in acknowledging
for a certain time the American authorities ; and, finally, in negotiat-
ing with them. This plan of conduct, which was not less, and per-
haps more derogatory to the dignity of the crown than the acknowl-
edgment of independence, offered, besides, less real advantage to
England ; it was accordingly blamed by all prudent and intelligent
politicians. None could avoid seeing, that if it was questionable,
whether these measures would have operated the desired effect be-
fore the declaration of independence and the alliance with France,
it was indubitable that afterwards they must prove absolutely fruitless.
That proclivity which men have by nature towards independence,
was likely to prevail in the minds of the Americans over the proposal
of resuming their former yoke, whatever were the advantages that
could have resulted from it. Another consideration must have acted
upon them, and particularly upon their chiefs ; they were not igno-
rant, that in state matters it is little prudent to confide in the pardon
of princes ; neither had they forgotten that these very ministers, who
made them such bland proposals, were the same men who haa at-
tempted to starve America, had filled it with ferocious soldiers, with
devastation and with blood. Besides, if the Americans should have
90 THE AMERICAN WAR. BOOK X.
broken the faith which they had just pledged to France, they would
have declared themselves guilty of a scandalous perfidy ; abandoned
by their new allies, could they have hoped, after such treachery, to
find, in their utmost distress, a single power on earth that would deign
to succor them? They would have found themselves exposed,
without shield or defense, to the fury and vengeance of Great
Britain.
But, perhaps, the British ministers believed, that if the measures
proposed were not to bring about an arrangement, they might, at
least, divide opinions, give birth to powerful parties, and thus, by in-
testine dissensions, facilitate the triumph of England. Perhaps, also,
and probably they persuaded themselves, that if the Americans re-
jected the propositions for an adjustment, they would at least have a
colorable pretense for continuing the war. But whether the proce-
dure of the ministers at this juncture was free or forced, lord North,
in the sitting of the house of commons, of the nineteenth of Febru-
ary, made a very grave speech upon the present state of affairs. He
remarked, that sir William Howe had not only been in the late ac-
tions, and in the whole course of the campaign, in goodness of troops,
and in all manner of supplies, but in numbers, too, much superior to
the enemy ; that Burgoyne had been in numbers, until the affair at
Bennington, near twice as strong as the army opposed to him ; that
sixty thousand men and upwards had been sent to America, .a force
which even exceeded the demands of the generals ; but fortune had
shown herself so unpropitious, that it had been impossible to reap
those advantages which were reasonably to have been expected from
it. He concluded with saying, that although Great Britain was most
able to continue the war, not only from the abundance of men, and
the strength of the navy, but from the flourishing condition of the
finances, which might be still increased by a loan at low interest, yet
out of that desire which every good government ought to have, to
put an end to war, the ministry had determined to submit to the de-
liberations of the house certain conciliatory propositions, from which
he expected the most happy results. The general attention was
evinced by a profound silence ; no mark of approbation was mani-
fested by any party. Astonishment, dejection and fear overclouded
tne whole assembly ; so different was the present language of the
ministers from what they had ever used before ; it was concluded
they had been forced to it by some serious cause. Fox took this
opportunity to exclaim, that the treaty of alliance between France
and the United States was already signed ; the agitation and tumult
became extreme. Lord North moved the resolution, that the par-
liament could not in future impose any tax or duty in the colonies
BOOK X. THE AMERICAN WAR. 91
of INorth America, except such only as should be deemed benefirial
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 in-
dividual 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.
The commissioners were, also, to be authorized to proclaim armis-
tices wherever they should think proper, to suspend prohibitory laws,
and generally all laws promulgated since the tenth of February, one
thousand seven hundred and sixty-three ; and to pardon whoever,
and as many as they pleased. Finally, they were to have authority
to appoint governors and commanders-in-chief in the reconciled
provinces.
Thus the British ministers, now urged by necessity, all at once
conceded what they had refused during fifteen years, and what they
had been contending for in a sanguinary and cruel war, already of
three years standing. Whether it was the fault of fortune, or their
own, they appeared in this conjuncture, as in all others, inflexible
when they should have yielded, and pliant when too late. Incapa-
ble of controlling events, they were dragged along by them. The
bills proposed passed almost without opposition in parliament ; but
without, they excited universal discontent. ' Such concessions,' it
was vociferated, ' are too unworthy of the British name and power ;
they would only be admissible in an extremity, such as, Heaven be
thanked, England is still far from being reduced to ; they are calcu-
lated to sow discouragement among us, to enervate our armies, to
embolden our enemies, and to detach our allies. Since the right of
taxation is renounced, which was the first motive and cause of the
war, why not go farther, and acknowledge independency ? ' In a
word, the ministers were charged with having done too much, or too
little ; the common fate of those, who from timidity betake them-
selves to half measures ; whose prudence and vigor prove equally
vain. Nor were the ministers only exposed to the animadversions
of the opposite party ; the most moderate citizens expressed a no
less decided disapprobation. Nevertheless, the king appointed, not
long after, for commissioners, the earl of Carlisle, lord Howe, Wil-
liam Eden, George Johnstone, and the commander-in-chief of the
English army in America ; individuals highly distinguished, either
by their rank, or by the celebrity of their achievements, or by their
intelligence and experience in American affair ; the earl of Carlisle,
Eden and Johnstone, sailed from St. Helen's the twentj -first of
April on board the ship Trident.
92 THE AMERICAN WAR. BOOK X.
In the midst of this complication of novel events, and of novel
measures, and while the entire British nation was anxiously looking
towards the future, the marquis de Noailles, ambassador of his most
Christian majesty, at the court of England, in pursuance of instruc-
tions from his sovereign, delivered, on the thirteenth of March, to
lord Wey mouth, secretary of state for foreign affairs, the following
declaration :
' The United States of America, which are in full possession of the
independence declared by their act of the fourth of July, one thou-
sand seven hundred and seventy-six, having made a proposal to the
king to consolidate, by a formal convention, the connections that
have begun to be established between the two nations, the respective
plenipotentiaries have signed a treaty of amity and commerce, in-
tended to serve as a basis for mutual good correspondence.
' His majesty, being resolved to cultivate the good understanding
subsisting between France and Great Britain, by all the means com-
patible with his dignity, and with the good of his subjects, thinks that
he ought to impart this step to the court of London, and declare to
jt, at the same time, that the contracting parties have had attention
not to stipulate any exclusive advantage in favor of the French nation,
and that the United States have preserved the liberty of treating
with all nations whatsoever on the same foot of equality and re-
ciprocity.
' In making this communication to the court of London, the king
is firmly persuaded, that it will find in it fresh proofs of his majesty's
constant and sincere dispositions for peace ; and that his Britannic
majesty, animated by the same sentiments, will equally avoid every
thing that may interrupt good harmony ; and that he will take, in
particular, effectual measures to hinder the commerce of his majesty's
subjects with the United States of America from being disturbed, and
cause to be observed, in this respect, the usages received between
trading nations, and the rules that may be considered as subsisting
between the crowns of France and Great Britain.
' In this1- just confidence, the underwritten ambassador might think
it superfluous to apprise the British ministry, that the king his mas-
ter, being determined effectually to protect the lawful freedom of the
commerce of his subjects, and to sustain the honor of his flag, his
majesty has taken, in consequence, eventual measures, in concert
with the United States of North America.'
This declaration, so full of matter in itself, and presented with very
little ceremony by the French ambassador, stung British pride to the
quick. If it was one of those sh ewd turns which are not unusual
among princes in their reciprocal intercourse, it was also one of those
BOOK X. THE AMERICAN WAR. 93
which they are not accustomed to forgive. France had foreseen its
consequences, and far from dreading them, they were the very ob-
ject of her wishes and hopes. Lord North communicated, the
seventeenth of March, the note of the French minister to the house of
commons, with a message from the king, purporting that his majesty
had thought proper, in consequence of this offensive declaration on
the part of the government of France, to recall his ambassador from
that court ; that he had been sincerely desirous to preserve the tran-
quillity of Europe ; and that he trusted he should not stand respon-
sible for its interruption, if he resented so unprovoked, and so unjust
an aggression on the honor of his crown, and the essential interests of
his kingdoms, contrary to the most solemn assurances, subversive of
the law of nations, and injurious to the rights of every sovereign
power in Europe. He concluded with saying, that relying with the
firmest confidence on the zeal of his people, he hoped to be in a
condition to repel every insult and attack, and to maintain and uphold
the power and reputation of his crown.
This resolution surprised no one ; it was already the subject of
conversation in all companies. Lord North moved the usual address
of thanks to the king, with assurance of the support of parliament.
A member named Baker proposed that the king should be entreated
to remove from his counsels those persons in whom his people could
no longer repose any sort of confidence. This amendment was sup-
ported with great spirit. It was then that governor Pownall, a man
of weight, and particularly conversant in American affairs, rose and
spoke in much the following terms :
' I do not deem it consistent with the business of this solemn day,
which is about to decide upon the immediate re-establishment, or
irreparable ruin of our country, to go into the inquiry whether the
present ministers are longer to be trusted with the conduct of the
battered ship of the state, in the* midst of tempests, or whether we
are to commit the helm to other hands. Considerations of far higher
importance, if I am not mistaken, demand all your attention. For
whatever these ministers may be, against whom I hear such bitter
murmurs, if we have the wisdom to take this day a suitable resolu-
tion, I have not the least doubt that even they will be capable of
executing it with success. If, on the contrary, persisting in the meas-
ures which have brought us into this critical position, we add a new
blunder to all our past errors, neither these nor any other ministers
can save us from perdition.
' Besides, those who are desirous of investigating the causes of our
disasters, and who impute them to the present servants of the crown,
will have an early opportunity for sifting that subject to their wish, in
94 THE AMERICAN WAK. BOOK X.
the regular examination of their conduct, which is to occupy this
house in a few days. .But what is the business before us, and what
is the subject of our immediate deliberations ? Faithless and haughty
France rises against us ; she threatens us with war, if we presume to
resent, nay, if we do not accept the insulting conditions she dictates.
Where is the citizen who loves his country, where is the Briton who
is not fired with indignation, who is not impatient to avenge the out-
rages of this implacable rival ? I also have British blood in my veins ;
I feel it in the transports which animate. me, I approve high ar d mag-
nanimous resolutions. But what I condemn, and so long as I have
life will always condemn, is the impolicy of hurrying to encounter
two wars instead of one, and of choosing rather to add a new enemy
to the old, than to be reconciled with the latter, in order to operate in
concert against the former. To vanquish France and America to-
gether, is an enterprise to be reckoned among impossible events ; to
triumph over the first after having disarmed the second, is not only
possible, but easy. But in order to attain this object, it is necessary
to acknowledge, what we can no longer prevent, I mean American
independence. And what are the obstacles which oppose so salu-
tary a resolution ? or by what reasons can it be combated ? Perhaps
the desire of glory, or the honor of the crown ? But honor resides
in victory ; shame in defeat ; and in affairs of state, the useful is al-
ways honorable.
' We should consider also, that in acknowledging the independence
of the United States, we acknowledge not only what is, but also what
we have already recognized, if not in form, at least in fact. In those
very acts of conciliation which we have so lately passed, we acknowl-
edge, if we would speak ingenuously, that we have renounced all
sort of supremacy. If our intention is to maintain it, we have, already
gone too far ; but if our desire of peace be sincere, we have not gone
far enough ; and every step we shall take to put the Americans back
from independency, will convince them the more of the necessity of
going forward. Inveterate inclinations £re not so easily changed, and
resolutions taken after long and mature deliberations, are not so
lightly diverted.
' If we look well into the great acts of their proceedings, we shall
soon be satisfied that they were not suddenly taken up as an ebulli-
tion of enthusiasm, or in the bitterness of passion or revenge, but
rather as coming on of course, by a train of events, linked together
by a system of policy. Their march was slow, but in measured
steps ; feeling their ground before they set their foot on it ; yet when
once set, there fixed forever. They made their declaration of rights
in 1774, itself but little compatible with British supremacy. They
BOOK X. THE AMERICAN WAR. 95
afterwards confirmed it by a manifesto, in which they proclaimed
their reasons for taking up arms ; and finally they declared their
independence, which is but the pinnacle and accomplishment of that
work which they had long since commenced, which they were assist-
ed in perfecting by the very nature of things, and which they have
so valiantly defended in three successive campaigns.
' If these people, when they viewed their cause abandoned, as to
all assistance which they looked to in Europe ; when sinking, as to
all appearance of what the utmost exertions of their own resources
had done; when clouded with despair; would not give up the ground
of independence, on which they were determined to stand ; what
hopes can there be, and from what quarter, that they will now, when
every event of fate and fortune is reversed to us, and turned in their
favor ; when they feel their own power able to resist, to counteract,
and in one deplorable instance superior to, and victorious over ours ;
when they see their cause taken up in Europe ; when they find the
nations among which they have taken their equal station, acknowl-
edging their independency, and concluding treaties with them as such ;
when France has actually and avowedly done it ; when it is known
that Spain must follow, and that Holland will ; what hopes can there
be, and from what quarter, that they will, all at once, pull down their
own new governments, to receive our provincial ones ? that they
will dissolve their confederation ? that they will disavow all their
reasons for taking up arms ; and give up all those rights which they
have declared, claimed and insisted upon, in order to receive such
others at our hands, as supremacy on one hand will, and dependency
on the other can admit them to ? And how can we hope to conquer,
when surrounded by his allies, the enemy, who, single, has repulsed
your attacks ? France abounds in hardy and gallant warriors ; she
will inundate with them the plains of America ; and then, whether
we shall be able, I say not to conquer, but to resist, let each be his
own judge.
' We are in sight of the coasts of France ; we see them lined with
formidable maritime preparations ; and though we may not fear, we
ought at least to guard against, an attack upon this very territory,
where we are meditating the destruction of America, who combats
us, and of France, who seconds her. It follows that those soldiers
who might have been sent to America, must remain in Great Britain
to defend our hallowed laws, our sacred altars, our country itself,
against the fury of the French. Already the numerous fleet of
Brest is perfectly prepared to put to sea ; already the coasts of
Normandy swarm with troops that seem to menace a descent upon
our natal land. And what are we doing in the mean time ? We
96 THE AMERICAN WAR. BOOK X.
are here deliberating whether it is better to have divers enemies,
than one only ; whether it is more expedient to encounter at once
America and Europe in league for our destruction, than to make
head against Europe with the arms ol America to back us ? But
am I alone in maintaining that the safety of England is attached to
the measure I propose ? All prudent men profess the same opinion ;
the unanimous voice of the people repeats it ; the pompous but vain
declamations of the ministers they have learned to interpret as the
denunciations of irreparable calamities to the country. Of this the
too certain proof is found in the fall of the public funds ; which
took place the moment there was any mention of this new ministe-
rial frenzy, of this obstinacy more Scotch than English. Tell us
then, ministers, sometimes so weakly credulous, at all times so obsti-
nate in your resolutions, if you have easily effected the late loan,
and what is the rate of interest you have paid ? But you are silent.
Will not this then suffice to convince you of the perversity of your
measures ?
' I know there are some who are careful to give out that the ac-
knowledgment of independence, besides being a measure little to
our honor, would offer no certain advantage, since we have no as-
surance that it would satisfy the Americans. But how can we believe
that the Americans will prefer the alliance of France to ours ? Are
not these the same French who formerly attempted to subjugate
them ? Are not these the same French whose wishes would have
led them to extinguish the name and language of the English ? How
can it be supposed that the Americans have not yet reflected that
England, their bulwark, once prostrated, they will be abandoned,
without defense, to the power of France, who will dispose of them
as she sees fit ? How should they not perceive this artifice of the
French, not new, but now prepared and rendered more dangerous
by our own imprudence, which consists in laboring to dissolve our
union in order to crush us separately ? The Americans will undoubt-
edly prefer the friendship and alliance of France to dependency ;
but believe me, when I assure you, that they will like infinitely bet-
ter the alliance of Great Britain, conjointly with independence.
Besides, it is a secret to nobody that the Americans are incensed
against France for having in this very negotiation profited of their
distress, to try to drive a hard and inequitable bargain with them :
thus setting a price upon their independence. Let us avail our-
selves, if we are wise, of the effects of French avarice, and we ma)
thus make friends of those whom we can no longer have for subjects.
Independent of the reasons I have urged, the interest of reciprocal
commerce alone, if every other part of the ground be taken equal,
BOOK X. THK AMERICAN WAR. 97
would determine the Americans to prefer our friendship to that of
France. But why should I multiply arguments to convince you of
that which I ca.n in an instant demonstrate beyond all doubt ? I
have seen, and read witli my own eyes, a letter written by Benjamin
Franklin, a man, as you all know, of irrefragable authority with his
countrymen. In this letter, transmitted to London since the con-
clusion of the treaty of alliance between France and America, he
affirms that if Great Britain would renounce her supremacy, and treat
with the Americans as an independent nation, peace might be re-
established immediately. These are not the news and silly reports
with which our good ministers allow themselves to be amused by
refugees. But if we may count upon the friendship and alliance of
independent America, it is equally clear, that instead of being weak-
ened by the separation, we should become but the more capable of
attack, and the more vigorous for defense. For a part of these
troops, which are now employed to no effect in our colonies, might
then be taken with advantage to form such garrisons in Canada and
Nova Scotia, as would put those provinces out of all insult and dan-
ger. The rest of the forces there might be employed to protect our
islands, and to attack those of France, which, thus taken by surprise,
would inevitably fall into our hands. As to the fleet, we could so
dispose it as to cover and defend at once all our possessions and our
commerce in the two hemispheres. Thus delivered from all dis-
quietude on the part of America, we should be enabled to bend all
our thoughts and all our forces against France ; and make her pay
the forfeit of her insolence and audacity.
' On these considerations, I think that, abandoning half measures,
we should extend the powers of the commissioners to the enabling
them to treat, consult, and finally to agree and acknowledge the
Americans as independent ; on condition, and in the moment, that
they will, as such, rorm a federal treaty, offensive and defensive and
commercial with us. If I am not greatly mistaken, we should reap
more advantage from this single resolution, than from several victo-
ries, in a war become hopeless.
' But if, on the contrary, we persist ;n our infatuation, we shall
learn, to our irreparable prejudice, how costly it is to trust more to
appearances than reality, and how dangerous to listen to the perni-
cious counsels of fury and pride. Be assured, if the commis-
sioners are not empowered to acknowledge independence, they had
better never go : their going will be a mockery, and end in disgrace.'
These considerations, weighty in themselves, and the emphatic
manner of the orator, made a deep impression upon the minds of his
auditors ; it was perceived that several members of the ministerial
VOL. 11. 7
98 THE AMERICAN WAR. BOOK X.
party began to xvavcr. But the minister of war, Jenkinson, a person-
age of no little authority, immediately answered by the following
speech :
f Nations, no less than individuals, ought to pursue that which is
just and honest ; and if this be their duty, it is equally also their
interest, since it generally conducts them to glory and to greatness.
On the other hand, what can be more fatal to the felicity of states,
than the uncc rtainty and instability of counsels ?
'Resolutions always fluctuating betray, in those who govern, either
weakness of mind, or timidity of spirit ; and prevent them from ever
attaining the end proposed. This axiom admitted, I hope to have
little difficulty in persuading the house that in the present question,
where we see prejudiced men hurried away by vain chimeras, it is
as rigorously required by justice and our dignity as by the most
essential interests of the state, that we should not depart from the
counsels we-pursue. However fortune may turn her wheel, the war
we wage is just. Such the wisdom of parliament has decreed it ;
such the voice of the people has proclaimed it ; such the very nature
of things confirms it. Why it has not beep more successful, I will
not now take upon me to say. Whatever may have been the causes,
the want of success has at last brought upon us the insults and
meditated attacks of the French. Is there any one here, who, in
such a situation, would have Great Britain despond, would have her
stoop to unworthy resolutions, and, through fear of the French, ac-
knowledge herself vanquished by her ancient subjects ? But what do
I say ? There are men who would have us tremble for ourselves ;
and who imagine they already see the French banners floating at the
gates of London. But disregarding the vain terrors of these, I know
not whether to say ambitious or timorous men, I pledge myself to
demonstrate, that the course we have hitherto pursued is not only
that of justice and honor, but that it is capable jf conducting us to
the object of our desires.
' I shall begin with asking these bosom friends of rebels, if they
are certain that it is all America, or only a seditious handful, whose
craft and audacity have raised them to the head of affairs, who claim
independency ? For my own part, I confess that this independence
appears to me rather a vision that floats in certain brains, inflamed
by the rage of innovation, on that side of the Atlantic as well as on
this, than any general wish of the people. This is what all men of
sense declare, who have resided in the midst of that misguided mul-
titude; this is attested by the thousands of royalists who have
flocked )o the royal standard in New York, and who have fought for
the king in the plains of Saratoga, and on the banks of the Bramly-
BOOK X. THE AMERICAN WAR. 99
wine. This, finally, is proclaimed by the very prisons, crowded
with inhabitants, who have chosen rather to part with their liberty,
than to renounce their allegiance ; and have preferred an imminent
peril of death, to a participation in rebellion.* If their co-operation
has not proved of that utility, which, from their number and force,
was to have been expected, this must be imputed not to their
indifference, but rather to the inconsiderate zeal which caused them
to break out prematurely. There is every reason to think that to
such subjects as remained faithful until England set up the pretension
of taxation, many others will join themselves now that she has
renounced it ; for already all are convinced how much better it is to
live under the mild sway of an equitable prince, than under the
tyranny of new and ambitious men. And why should I here omit
the ties of consanguinity, the common language, the mutual interests,
the conformity of manners, and the recollection of ancient union ?
I appeal even to the testimony of my adversary, with regard to the
avarice and i evoking behavior of France, during the negotiation of
alliance ; and can it be doubtful that to this new, insatiable, arrogant
and faithless friend, the Americans will prefer their old, tried, benefi-
cent and affectionate fellow-citizens ? Nor should I omit to mention
a well known fact ; the finances of congress are exhausted ; their
soldiers are naked and famishing ; they can satisfy none of the wants
of the state ; creditors are without remedy against their debtors ;
hence arise scandals without end, private hatreds, and unanimous
maledictions against the government.
' There is not an individual among the Americans, but sees that, in
accepting the terms offered by Great Britain, the public credit will
be re-established, private property secured, and abundance in all parts
of the social body restored. They will concur, with the more ardor,
in establishing this prosperity, when they shall see powerful England
resolved on continuing the war with redoubled energy. Certainly
they will not believe that any succors they can receive from haughty
France will compel us very speedily to accept of ignominious con-
ditions. Yes, methinks I already see, or I am strangely mistaken,
the people of America flocking to the royal standard ; every thing
imites them to it; fidelity towards the sovereign, the love of the
English name, the hope of a happier future, their aversion to their
new and unaccustomed allies, and, finally, the hatred they bear to
the tyranny of congress.
' It is then that we shall have cause to applaud our constancy,
then shall we acknowledge that the most honorable counsels, as the
most worthy of so great a realm, are also the most useful and safe.
So far from thinking the new war against France ought to dismay
100 THE AMERICAN WAR BOOK. X.
as, I see in it only grounds of better hopes. If, UJT to the present
time, we have had but little success against the Americans, whatever
may have been the cause of it, where is the Englishman who does
not hope, nay, who cfoes not firmly believe, that the French are
about to furnish us with occasions for the most brilliant triumphs?
As for myself, I find the pledge of it in the recollection of our past
achievements, in the love of our ancient glory, in the present ardor
of our troops, and especially in the strength of our navy. The ad-
vantages we shall gain over the French by land and sea, will recom-
pense the losses we have sustained in America. The Americans,
finding their hopes frustrated, which they had so confidently placed
on the efficacy of the succors >f their new allies, will be struck with
terror ; they will prefer the certain peace of an accommodation to
future independence, rendered daily more uncertain by new defeats
of their allies. Besides, who will presume to affirm that fortune will
not become more propitious to us even upon the territory of Ameri-
ca ? Is it going too far to believe, that when our armies shall direct
their march towards the open and fertile provinces inhabited by the
loyalists, they will be more successful than they could be in moun-
tainous, steril, savage regions, swarming with rebels ? For myself,
I have not a particle of doubt that we shall find in Georgia and the
Carolinas, the most ample indemnification for the unlucky campaigns
of New Jersey and of Pennsylvania. But I admit, which God for-
bid, fresh disasters ; I will nevertheless maintain that we ought to
prosecute what we have commenced. If we lose our colonies, we
shall not lose honor. I would rather American independence, if
ever it must exist, should be the offspring of inexorable destiny, than
of a base condescension on our part.
' Shall France then find us so tame, as, at the bare shadow of her
enmity, to abandon our possessions, and tamely yield up to her all
our glory ; we, who have the time still green in memory, when, after
having by victories on victories trampled upon her pride and prostrat-
ed her power, we triumphantly scoured all seas, and the continent
of America?
' Of what country then are the authors of such timid counsels ?
English perhaps. As for myself, I cannot believe it. Who are these
pusillanimous spirits, who paint our affairs as if they were desperate ?
Are they women or affrighted children ? I should incline to believe
the latter, if I did noi see them often holding forth within these walls
their sinister predictions, indulging their favorite whim of reviling
their country, expatiating with apparent delight upon its weakness,
End magnifying the power of its ambitious enemy. And what is then
tliis France, at the gathering of whose frowns we are to shudder ?
BOOK X. THE AMERICAN WAR 101
Where are her seamen trained to naval maneuvers ? Where aie her
soldiers formed in battles ? I will tell those who do not know it, or
who affect not to know it, that she is at this very moment attacked
with an internal malad) that will paralyze her strength at the very
moment she may wish to move. Who of you is ignorant that she
labors under an annual deficiency of thirty millions ? Who knows
not that she is destitute of the resources of loans? her rich capital
ists being as distrustful as they are rare.
' But it is not in the sinking of credit only that France is distress^
ed ; the spirit of free inquiry, and the effects of an extended com-
merce, have introduced opinions among the French people, that are
wholly incompatible with their government. Contrary to all prece-
dent, contrary to all ideas of that government, a reasoning has prop-
agated, and even entered into some of the lines of business, that the
twentieth is a/ree gift, and that every individual has a right to judge
of its necessity, and oversee its employment.
' Besides this, one bad effect of the zeal with which they pre-
tended to take up the American cause, and which they now learn
in earnest to have an affection for, has tainted their principles with
the spirit of republicanism. These principles of liberty always di-
minish the force of government ; and if they take root and grow up
in France, we shall see that government as distracted and unsettled
as any other.
' I hear talk of the difficulty of borrowing among ourselves, and
of the depression of the public funds ; but the lenders have already
come forward ; and I understand the first payment is already made.
The interest they have demanded is not only not usurious, but it is
even much more moderate than our enemies would have wished, or
than our croaking orators predicted. As to the fall of the funds, it
has been very inconsiderable, and they have even risen to-day. But
how shall I treat the grand bugbear of French invasion ? We have
a formidable fleet, thirty thousand regular troops ; and at a moment's
warning, could muster such a body of militia as would make France
desist from, or bitterly rue her puojects. It is no such easy task to
vanquish Britons ; their country falls not a prey so lightly to whom-
soever. We are told also that the Americans are ready to contract
alliance with us,, and that they have manifested such a wish ; and
we have already seen men credulous enough to catch at the lure.
Do we not know that those who agitate these intrigues, if indeed
any credit is due to such rumors, are- the very same persons who
violate the capitulation of Saratoga, the same who imprison, who
toi%re, who massacre the loyal subjects of the king ? For my part,
I fear the gift and its bearer; I fear American wiles; I fear the
102 THE AMERICAN WAR. BOOK X.
French school ; I fear they wish to degrade us by the refusal, after
having mocked us by their offers. Hitherto I have been considering
exclusively what policy demands of you ; I will now briefly remind
you of the claims of justice, gratitude and humanity. Think of those
who, in the miclst of the rage of rebellion, have preserved their fideli-
ty to the king, to yourselves, to the country. Have compassion for
those who have placed all their hopes in your constancy.
* Take pity on the wives, on the widows, on the children of those,
who, now exposed without defense to the fury of the insurgents,
offer up their prayers to Heaven for the prosperity of your arms, and
see no glimpse of any period to their torments but in your victory.
Will you abandon all these ? Will you allow them to become the
victims of the confidence they placed in you ? Will the English
show less perseverance in their own cause, than the loyalists have
manifested on their behalf? Ah ! such abominable counsels were
never yet embraced by this generous kingdom. Already, methinks,
I see your noble bosoms pant with indignation ; already I hear your
voices cry vengeance on outrages so unexampled, while your hands
grasp the arms which are about to inflict it. On, then, ye fathers
of the state! accomplish the high destiny that awaits you. Save the
honor of the kingdom, succor the unfortunate, protect the faithful,
defend the country. Let Europe acknowledge, and France prove
to her cost, that it is pure British blood which still flows in your veins.
To condense therefore in a few words what I feel and what I think,
I move, that the proposition of my adversary being rejected, the
king be assured that his faithful commons are ready to furnisli him
with the means that shall be necessary to maintain the honor of his
people, and the dignity of his crown.'
As soon as Jenkinson had finished speaking, there followed an
incredible agitation in the house. At length the votes were taken,
and it was carried almost unanimously, that an address of thanks
should be presented to the king, that war should be continued against
the colonies, and declared against France.
But in the sitting of the house of lords of the seventh of April,
after the duke of Richmond had concluded a very solid and very el-
oquent speech, proving that it was time to give another direction to
the affairs of the kingdom, that house became the scene of a melan-
choly event. The earl of Chatham, though sinking under a mortal
infirmity, had dragged himself to his place in parliament. Shocked
at the new measures that were thrown out there, and deterr
not to consent to the separation of America, he pronounced
words, which were the last of his life : ' 1 have made an effort, a
beyond the powers of my constitution, to come down to the house. ow
BOOK X. THE AMERICAN WAR. 103
this day to express the indignction I feel at an idea, which, I under-
stand, has been proposed to ycu, of yielding up the sovereignty of
America !
' My lords, I rejoice that the grave has not closed upon me ; that
I am still alive to lift up my voice against the dismemberment of this
ancient and most noble monarchy ! Pressed down, as I am, by the
hand of infirmity, I am little able to assist my country in this most
perilous conjuncture ; but, my lords, while I have sense and memory,
I will never consent to deprive the royal offspring of the house
of Brunswick, the heirs of the princess Sophia, of their fairest
inheritance.
' Where is the man that will dare to advise such a measure ? His
majesty succeeded to an empire as great in extent us its reputation
was unsullied. Shall we tarnish the lustre of this nation by an igno-
minious surrender of its rights and fairest possessions ? Shall this
great kingdom, that has survived, whole and entire, the Danish depre-
dations, the Scottish inroads, and the Norman conquest ; that has
stood the threatened invasion of the Spanish armada, now fall pros-
trate before the house of Bourbon ? Surely, my lords, this nation is
no longer what it was ! Shall a people that, seventeen years ago, was
the terror of the world, now stoop so low as to tell its ancient invete-
rate enemy, Take all we have, only give us peace ! It is impossible.
In God's name, if it is absolutely necessary to declare either for peace
or war, and the former cannot be preserved with honor, why is not
the latter commenced without hesitation ? I am not, I confess, well
informed of the resources of this kingdom ; but I trust it has suffi-
cient to maintain its just rights. But, my lords, any state is bettei
than despair. Let us at least make one effort ; and if we must fall,
let us fall like men ! '
Here the earl of Chatham ended his speech. The duke of Rich-
mond rose, and endeavored to prove that the conquest of America
by force of arms was become impracticable ; that consequently it
was wiser to secure her friendship by a treaty of alliance, than to
throw her into the arms of France. The earl of Chatham wished to
reply, but after two or three unsuccessful attempts to stand, he fell
down in a swoon on his seat. He was immediately assisted by the
duke of Cumberland, and several other principal members of the
house. They removed him into an adjacent apartment, called the
Prince's chamber. The confusion and disorder became extreme.
Thedukeof Richmond proposed, that in consideration of this public
calamity, the house should adjourn to the following day ; and it was
one. The next day the debate was resumed upon the
104 THE AMERICAN WAR. BOOK X.
motion of the duke of Richmond ; but it was finally ejected by a
large majority.
The eleventh of May was the last day of William Pitt, earl of
Chatham ; he was in his seventieth year. His obsequies were cele-
brated the eighth of June, with extraordinary pomp, in Westminster
Abbey ; where a monument was erected to him a short time sifter.
This man, whether for his genius, his virtues, or the great things he
did for his country, is rather to be paralleled with the ancients, than
preferred to the moderns. He governed for a considerable time the
opulent kingdom of Great Britain ; he raised it to such a pitch of
splendor, as the English at no other period had ever known, or even
presumed to hope for ; and he died, if not in poverty, at least with
so narrow a fortune, that it would not have been sufficient to main-
tain his family honorably ; a thing at that time sufficiently remarkable,
and which in the present age might pass for a prodigy ! But his
grateful country recompensed in the children the virtue of the father.
The parliament granted a perpetual annuity of four thousand pounds
sterling to the family of Chatham, besides paying twenty thousand
pounds of debts which the late earl had been compelled to contract,
in order to support his rank and his numerous household. No indi-
vidual until tho.t time, except the duke of Marlborough, had received
in England such high and liberal rewards. The earl of Chatham
was no less distinguished as a great orator, than as a profound states-
man, and immaculate citizen. He defended with admirable elo-
quence, before parliament, those resolutions which he had maturely
discussed and firmly adopted in the consultations of the cabinet.
Some, it is true, blamed in his speeches the too frequent use of
figures, and a certain pomp of style much savoring of the taste of
those times. But this great minister surpassed all the rulers of na-
tions of his age, in the art of excising, even to enthusiasm, the zeal
of the servants of the state, civil as well as military ; a talent which
Heaven confers but rarely, and only upon privileged individuals. In
a word, he was a man whose name will never be pronounced with-
out encomiums, and the resplendent glory of whose virtues will
eternally recommend them to imitation.
We now resume the thread of events. The British ministers,
seeing that war with France was become inevitable, took all the
measures they judged necessary to sustain it. They exerted them-
selves therein with the more ardor, as they could not but perceive
that if England showed herself with disadvantage in this contest
against France and America, Spain, and perhaps even Holland,
would not long remain neuter ; whereas, on the other hand, a prompt
and brilliant victory might intimidate the two latter powers from de-
BOOK X. THE AMERICAN WAR. 105
claring themselves. Their attention was occupied especially in
pressing their maritime preparations, as therein consisted the princi-
pal defense of the kingdom, and the pledge of success. But on a
strict examination into the state of the navy, it was found to be nei-
ther so numerous, nor so well provided, as had been supposed, and
as the urgency of circumstances required. This afflicting discovery
excited a general clamor. In the two houses of parliament, the
duke of Bolton and Fox inveighed with great asperity against the
earl of Sandwich, who was first lord of the admiralty. No diligence,
however, was omitted to remedy all deficiencies. To cheer the
public mind in so trying a conjuncture, and especially to inspirit the
seamen, by giving them a chief possessed of their full confidence,
the ministers appointed to the command of the fleet lying at Ports-
mouth, admiral Keppel, an officer of distinguished ability, and highly
celebrated for his brilliant achievements in the preceding wars. Lords
Hawke and Anson, those two bright luminaries of the British marine,
had honored him with their esteem and closest friendship ; in a word,
no choice could have been so agreeable to the British nation at large
as that of admiral Keppel. He refused not the appointment, not-
withstanding that he was already arrived at an age in which man
prefers repose to action, and that he could aspire to no greater glory
than what he had acquired ; he must even have felt a sort of repug-
nance to commit it anew to the hazard of battles. To these con-
siderations was added another untoward particular, which was, that,
as a whig, the ministers eyed him with jealousy ; a circumstance
which, in the course of events, might occasion him many disgusts.
But more thoughtful for the good of his country, which claimed his
services, than of his private convenience, he hesitated not to accept
the charge, to which he was invited by the public voice. The vice-
admirals, Harland and Palliser, both officers of high reputation, were
appointed to second him in command. On his arrival at Portsmouth,
Keppel, instead of a great fleet ready to proceed to sea, found, to
his extreme surprise, only six sail of the line prepared for immedi-
ate service, crews incomplete, provisions insufficient, and naval mu-
nitions wanting. The ministers alledged that the other ships had
been detached on different services, but that they were to return
shortly. However it was, the admiral exerted an activity so astonish-
ing, that by the middle of June he found himself in condition to put
to sea with twenty ships of the line, and not without expectation of
prompt re-mforcements. He sailed from St. Helens on the thir-
teenth, accompanied by the fervent prayers of all England. The
posture of affairs was inexpressibly critical and alarming. It was
known that France had a numerous fleet at Brest, completely man-
106 THE AMERICAN WAR. BOOR X
ned and equipped for sea ; the ships which conveyed the riches of
India were expected from day to day, and might become the prey of
the French. This disaster, so great in itself, by the loss of such
treasures, mu?t have involved another of still greater consequence,
that of an immense number of sailors, who were counted upon to
man the ships of war. To this momentous consideration were
joined the defense of the vast extent of the British coasts, the safety
of the capital itself, the preservation of the arsenals, the repositories
of all the elements of the greatness of England, and the basis of all
her hopes ; and all these objects, rather of vita] than of great impor-
tance, were confided to the protection of twenty ships !
Meanwhile the land preparations were pushed with no less ardor
than the maritime. The recruiting service was prosecuted with
success ; the militia were assembled, and formed into regiments
upon the model of regular troops. Encampments were established
in such places as were thought most exposed to the attempts of the
enemy. Thus the English made their dispositions to meet the im-
pending war. The government had already ordered, by way of reprisal,
the detention of all the French vessels that were found in the ports
But France, who for a long time had purposed to turn her arms
against England, was better provided with all the implements of war.
Her fleet was numerous, and all her arsenals were in full activity.
The court of Versailles, on intelligence of the hostile manner with
which king George had answered the declaration of the marquis de
Noailles, immediately dispatched orders to the different ports, pro-
hibiting the departure of all English vessels. This measure, taken
reciprocally by the two powers, produced but little effect ; the mas-
ters of merchant vessels, foreseeing a rupture, had hastened to re-
cover their own shores. France, henceforth, laying aside all hesita-
tions, felt it due to herself to assume the attitude which becomes a
great and powerful nation. She was disposed to perfect the work
commenced by her declaration, and tore-assure the minds of her new
allies by a step from which it was impossible to fall back without
shame. She therefore resolved to receive, and formally acknowl-
edge, the American commissioners, as ambassadors of a free and
mdependent nation. How England must have been stung by this
affront it is not difficult to imagine.
On the twenty-first of March, the three commissioners were
introduced by the count de Vergennes before the throne, whereon
was seated the king, Louis XVI., in the midst of the grandees of his
court. In this ceremony, none of those formalities were omitted
which it was usual to observe, whenever the kings of France gave
audience to the ambassadors of sovereign and independent nations ;
BOOK X.
THE AMERICAN WAR. 107
a truly remarkable event, and such as history, perhaps, affords no
example of! The Americans herein experienced better fortune
than other nations that have acquired independence ; as, for example,
the Switzers and Dutch, who were not without difficulty, nor till af-
ter a long time, acknowledged independent by those very powers that
had assisted them to break the yoke of their masters.
France, having thus dropped the mask, could not but perceive thai
in the present war she must depend more upon her fleets than upon
her armies. She was not unmindful, that an essential part of mari-
time war consists in capturing, as well the armed ships of the ene-
my, to diminish his power, as those of commerce, to exhaust his re-
sources ; an object always of primary importance, but most especial-
ly such in a war with England. The court of Versailles according-
ly determined to employ an incentive that should stimulate the ardor
of both officers and crews. It had been usual in France, in order
to encourage the armaments on cruise, to grant certain recompenses
to the captors of ships of war ; and to those of merchant vessels, one
third of the produce of their sale. The king, by a decree of the twen-
ty-eighth of March, ordained that the enemy ships of war and cruisers,
which should be taken by his own, should belong in full and entire
property to the commanders, officers and crews, who should have
captured them ; and that, in like manner, two thirds of the value
of merchant ships and of their cargoes, should become the property
of the captors ; the other third, being reserved, to be deposited in
the fund destined for the relief of invalid seamen. This decree, sign-
ed by the king, and countersigned by the duke de Penthievre, grand-
admiral of France, was to have been put in execution the fourth of
the following May ; nevertheless, whether Louis X VI., as some think,
swayed by the natural benignity of his character, was reluctant to
give the signal for the effusion of blood, or that policy disposed him
to wait till the English should have committed the first hostilities,
the edict was not published and executed until the beginning of July.
With a view to prevent the English government, fearing for itself,
from being able to send re-inforcements to America, regiments were
ordered to march from all parts of France upon the coasts that look
towards England. Already a formidable army was found assembled,
and ready, in all appearance, to be embarked on board the grand ar-
mament at Brest, for a descent upon the opposite shore. All the
labors of that port were pushed with unexampled activity; more than
thirty ships of the line were already completely equipped there, be-
sides a grea! number of frigates ; the latter were particularly intend-
.ed for cruising against the British commerce. Another considerable
fleet was about to put to sea from the port of Toulon.
108 THE AMERICAN WAR. BOOK X.
This sudden resurrection of the French marine was the subject of
extreme surprise to all nations, and particularly to England, who.
accustomed to domineer upon the ocean, scarcely knew how to
believe that there should thus all at once have risen up a power in
condition to contend with her for the scepter of the seas. In truth,
the state of debility into which France had fallen at the epoch of the
death of Louis XIV. not only rendered it impossible to remedy the
weakness in which the French navy was left at the conclusion of the
war of the Spanish succession, but it even occasioned those ships
which remained to perish in the docks for want of repairs. The wars
of Italy, of Flanders, and of Germany, which took place under the
reign of Louis XV., by drawing all the efforts and all the resources
of the state to the land service, produced a fatal coldness towards the
marine department. France contented herself with arming a few
ships, rather to protect her own commerce, than to disturb that of the
enemy ; hence disastrous defeats, and losses without number. To
all these causes was joined the opinion, natural to the inhabitants of
France, satisfied with the fertility of their lands, and the multitude
of their manufactures,, that they have little need of a strong navy and
of maritime traffic. But finally, the increase of the products of their
colonies, and the immense gain they derived from the sale of them
in foreign markets, drew the attention of the French to the impor-
tance of external commerce.
They perceived, at the same time, that without a military marine
to protect the mercantile, maritime commerce must always be uncer- '
tain, and consequently sickly and unprofitable ; and that war may
destroy, in a few days, the fruits of a long peace. On these consid-
erations, the court of France, devoted its cares to the creation and
maintenance of a fleet sufficiently formidable to command respect
during peace, or to make war with success, and protect commerce
from the insults of enemy vessels.
The present American war, which opened so brilliant a perspec-
tive to the French, furnished also a powerful incentive to these new
designs. In order not to want skillful officers to manage the ships,
the seamen of the merchant shipping, in imitation of the example of
the English and Dutch, were called into the service of the royal navy.
Besides this, in pursuance of a well conceived plan, there were sent
out in the year 1772, 1775, and 1776, three fleets, commanded by-
three excellent seamen, the counts d'Orvilliers, De Guichen, and
Duchaffault. These excursions served as schools of practice, in
which the officers and crews formed themselves to evolutions and
manoeuvres. In brief, the efforts of the French government were so
unremitting, and it was so seconded by the general ardor, that at the
BOOK X. THE AMERICAN WAR. 109
commencement of the present war, its navy equaled, if it did not
surpass, that of England ; speaking, however, of the fleets which the
latter had then fitted for immediate service, or in such forwardness
that they could put to sea within a short space of time. Nor was
France disposed to keep this navy idle in her ports. The cabinet of
Versailles meditated two expeditions equally important ; the one was
to be executed by the armament at Brest, the other by the fleet of
Toulon. The latter, putting to sea as soon as possible, was to repair
with all celerity to America, and suddenly to make its appearance
in the waters of the Delaware.
Hence two events were likely to result, equally pernicious to Great
Britain ; namely, that the squadron of lord Howe, which had gone
up that river, and which was greatly inferior in force to that of France,
would, without any doubt, have been destroyed, or must have fallen
into the power of the French. That squadron annihilated or taken,
the army under general Clinton, pressed in front by Washington, and
in rear by the French fleet thus possessed of the Delaware, would
also have been constrained to surrender, or, certainly, would have
had an extremely perilous retreat. So decisive a blow must have
put an end to the whole American war. This plan of campaign had
been debated and agreed upon at Paris, between the commissioners
of congress and the ministry. Nor was the execution of it delayed ;
on the thirteenth of April, the French fleet sailed from Toulon. It
was composed of twelve sail of the line, and four large frigates, and
commanded by the count d'Estaing, a man of great valor, and of
an active genius. It took out a considerable corps of troops to serve
on shore. Silas Deane, one of the American commissioners, who
was recalled, and M. Gerard, whom. the king had appointed his
minister to the United States, were on board. Fortune showed herself
favorable to these first essays. The wind seconded the voyage ol
the fleet ; and, though the British ministry had been promptly ad-
vised of its departure, their ignorance of the route taken by the count
d'Estaing, and the strong west winds which prevailed for some days,
so retarded the decisions of the admiralty, that it was not till the
first of June they ordered admiral Byron to make sail with twelve
ships for America ; he was to replace lord Howe, who had requested
leave to return .to England. As for the fleet of Brest, more consid-
erable, and commanded by the count d'Orvillicrs, who was impa-
tient to realize the hopes which had been placed in his talents, it was
destined to scour the seas of" Europe, in order to keep alive upon
the coasts of Great Britain the fear of an invasion. He relied espe-
cially upon his frigates, which were very numerous, to intercept the
merchant fleets laden with rich cargoes, which the English then ex-
1 10 THE AMEIUCAN WAR. BOOK X.
pected from the two Indies. Thus things were rapidly verging to
an open rupture between the two states, and immediate I ostilitiea
wore expected, though war was not yet declared on either part, ac-
cording to the established usages of Europe. Universal attention
was roused by the contest going to commence between France and
England ; events of moment were expected from the collision of twc
such powerful nations. Nor was fortune slow to light the first fires
of this conflagration, which soon involved the four quarters of the
world in its flames. Scarcely had admiral Keppel got out to sea, the
thirteenth of June, from St. Helens, and shaped his course for the
bay of Biscay, when he discovered, at no great distance, two ships
of considerable size, with two other smaller vessels, which appeared
to be watching the motions of his fleet. These were the two French
frigates called the Licorne and the Belle Poule. The admiral found
himself in a very delicate situation. On the one hand he desired
much to make himself master of the ships, in order to procure infor-
mation respecting the state and position of the Brest fleet ; on the
other, war was not yet declared between the two nations, and the
causing it to break out might be imputed to his temerity. Nor did
he find any thing in the instructions of the ministers which could
remove his perplexity ; as they were exceedingly loose, and left
every thing almost entirely to his discretion. It should be added,
that Keppel being of a party in opposition to that of the ministers,
his conduct, in case he commenced hostilities, was liable to be inter-
preted unfavorably, since his adversaries might attribute to political
motives what appeared to be the inevitable result of circumstances.
In this painful embarrassment, Keppel, like the good citizen he was,
chose rather to serve his country at his own peril, than to hazard its
interest by his indecision. Accordingly, the seventeenth of June,
he ordered his ships to give chase to the French. Between five and
six in the afternoon, the English frigate Milford came up with the
Licorne, and her captain, in very civil terms, summoned the French
commander to repair under the stern of admiral Keppel. The
Frenchman at first refused ; but seeing the Hector ship of the line
come up, which saluted with ball, he submitted to his destiny, and
following that vessel, took station in the British fleet.
During this time, captain Marshall, with his frigate Arethusa, of
twenty-eight six pounders, in company with the Alert cutter, was in
pursuit of the Belle Poule, which carried twenty-six twelve pounders,
and was accompanied by a corvette of ten guns.
The Arethusa, being the better sailer, arrived about six in the
evening within musket shot of the Belle Poule. Marshall informed
the French captain, M. de la Clocheterie, of bis orders to bring him
BOOK X. THE AMERICAN WAR. Ill
under the stern of the admiral. To this, de la Clocheterie returned
a spirited refusal. The Arethusa then fired a shot across the Belle
Poule, which she returned with a discharge of her broadside. A
fierce engagement between the two frigates ensued ; animated by an
equal emulation, and bent on carrying the victory, in this first action,
the most extraordinary efforts of resolution were displayed on both
sides. The conflict continued for more than two hours, with severe
damage to both parties, as the sea was calm, and the vessels extreme-
ly near. The French were superior in the weight of metal, the
nuipber of their crew, and the proximity of their coasts ; while the
English were benefited by the number of guns, and especially by
the presence of two ships of the line, the Valiant and the Monarch ;
which, though prevented by the calm from coming up to take part
in the action, nevertheless greatly disquieted the French captain,
and exceedingly circumscribed his movements. Finally, after an
obstinate contest, the English frigate, finding herself too close upon
the coasts of France, despairing of being able to overpower her ad-
versary, and having sustained much injury in her masts, spars and
rigging, profited of a light breeze, which sprung up at that moment,
to withdraw. She was afterwards towed off to the fleet by the
Valiant and Monarch. During her retreat, the French saluted her
with fifty balls ; but she returned them not one. The Belle Poule
would even have pursued her, but for the damage she had received
herself, besides the proximity of the two men of war, and even of
the whole English armament.
La Clocheterie, thinking it more prudent to consult his safety, went
to cast anchor for the night in the midst of the shoals, near Plouas-
cat. The next morning, the two English ships came to reconnoiter
his position, and ascertain whether it was possible to approach the
frigate near enough to tike her. But finding the obstacles of the
rocks insuperable, they abandoned the enterprise, and returned to
join the fleet. For the same causes, and at the same time, the Eng-
lish cutter and the French corvette joined battle with equal fury, but
with different success. After an hour of the most vigorous resist-
ance, the corvette surrendered. The Arethusa, in this action, had
eight men killed and thirty-six wounded. The loss of the Belle
Poule was forty killed, and fifty-seven wounded. Among the
first was M. de St. Marsault, lieutenant of the frigate ; among the
second, M. de la Roche de Kerandraon, ensign ; Bouvet, an auxil-
iary officer, and M. de la Clocheterie himself, who received two
contusions.
In the morning of the eighteenth, the frigate Licorne, which had
been stationed in the middle of the English fleet, having made a
11 THE AMERICAN WAR. BOOK X.
movement which gave the English some suspicion, they fired a shot
across her way, as a signal to keep in company with the other ships.
Immediately, to the great astonishment of the admiral, and of the
whole English fleet, she discharged a broadside and a volley of mus-
ketry into the America, of sixty-four guns, commanded by lord
Longford, which lay the nearest to her. This done, she struck her
colors, as if, tired of this , middle state between peace and war in
which she was kept, she had preferred, though a prisoner, to consti-
tute herself in open war. Keppel sent her to Plymouth. In the
mean time, another French frigate, named the Pallas, fell in with^the
English fleet ; the admiral detained her, changing her officers and
crew. Such was his conduct with regard to French vessels of war.
As to merchant ships, though a great number of them fell within
his reach, he permitted them to continue their voyage without inter-
ruption, not thinking himself authorized to stop them.
The action of the Belle Poule excited no little enthusiasm in
France, where the remembrance of so many defeats was still recent ;
and it is unquestionable that the officers and all the crew of that
frigate had signalized as much valor as nautical ability. Their con-
duct occasioned a sincere joy, and it was diligently extolled, in order
to animate the public mind by these brilliant beginnings. The
king showed himself lavish of favors towards those who had fought ;
'he appointed M. de la Clocheterie captain of ship ; Bouvet, lieuten-
*ant of frigate ; and gave the cross of Saint Louis to Roche Keran-
draon. Pensions were granted to the sister of Saint Marsault, to
the widows, and to the children of those who had fallen in the ac-
tion. The English were not so generous towards captains Marshall,
and Fairfax, commander of the cutter ; but they received the enco-
miums of the admiralty and of their fellow-citizens.
But the king of France, considering the affair of the Belle Poule,
and the seizure of other frigates, as a sufficient motive for executing
his projects, ordered reprisals against the vessels of Great Britain!
He immediately caused to be published his decree concerning prizes,
as if the sending of the count d'Estaing to America, with such or-
ders as he was the bearer of, was npt yet to be reputed a commence-
ment of war. The English went through the same formalities, th'.i?
authorizing by words what they had already done, at least with re-
gard to ships of war. Lentil this time, the two parties had endeav-
ored to harm each other by all possible means, without resorting to
the accustomed declarations.
The papers found aboard the French frigates, and the questions
put to the prisoners, furnished admiral Keppel with important intel-
ligence. He learned that in the port of Brest were thirty-two ships
BOOK X. THE AMERICAN WAR. 113
of the line, with ten or twelve frigates, all in complete readiness to
put to sea ; whereas all his own forces consisted in twenty sai* of the
line and three frigates. He found himself already in sight of the
Isle of Ouessant, and consequently near the coasts of France. Hia
position was truly embarrassing. The proximity and superiority of
the enemy rendered his present station imminently perilous. To
encounter the hazards of a battle which might expose the safety of
the kingdom, was rather an act of temerity, than a courageous reso-
lution. On the other nand, to retire from the coasts of an enemy
he had braved a moment since, appeared to him a step too unworthy
of his own reputation, and of the English name. But finally, con-
sulting utility more than appearances, and his duty rather than the
point of honor, he tacked about for England, and entered Portsmouth
the twenty-seventh of June.
Immediately, some, from the spirit of party, and in order to excul-
pate the ministers, others to appease the national pride, pulled him
to pieces without mercy. It might have seemed that his retreat had
sullied the glory of England ; and some were so transported by their
fury as to compare Keppel to Byng. The admiral supported with'
admirable constancy the outrages of the multitude, and the invective*
of the party who excited them. He busied himself only with the
means of re-inforcing his fleet, and of putting it in condition to scour
the seas anew ; the admiralty powerfully seconded his zeal, and the
success corresponded to his exertions. The first divisions of the
East and West India fleets arrived about that time, and furnished a
great number of excellent seamen to the naval armament. Thus
re-inforced, it weighed anchor and put to sea the ninth of July. It-
was composed of twenty-four ships of the line, which were afterwards
joined by six more of the same class. It comprehended a ship of
one hundred guns, named the Victory, which bore the admiral'*
flag, six of ninety, one of eighty, and fifteen of seventy-four ; the
rest were of sixty-four.
They were all well manned and equipped, and commanded by
excellent officers. The frigates were insufficient in number ; there
were only five or six, with two fire-ships. The fleet was divided into
three squadrons ; the van was commanded by sir Robert Harland,
vice-admiral of the Red ; the center by admiral Keppel, assisted by
admiral Campbell, a consummate seaman, who, on the score of an-
cient friendship, had chosen to accompany him as the first captain
of the Victory. The rear was conducted by sir Hugh Palliser, vice-
admiral of the Blue, and one of the members of the boatd of admi-
ralty. Finding themselves BO strong, and no longer doubting of
VOL. II.
114 THE AMERICAN WAR. BOOK X.
victory, the English made their appearance upon the coasts of
France.
They sought the French fleet with all diligence, impatient to give
it battle, in order to preserve their commerce, to efface the dishonor
of having a few days before yielded the sea to the enemy ; finally,
to sustain their ancient renown, and to cause fortune to incline in their
favor from the very commencement of hostilities. Meanwhile, the
French fleet had also come out of port the eighth of July. It was in
like manner formed in three divisions ; the first commanded by the
count Duchaffault, the center by the count d'Orvilliers, captain-gene-
lal, and the third by the duke de Chartres, prince of the blood, who
was seconded and guided by admiral de la Motte Piquet. These
three divisions comprised thirty-two sail of the line, among which
were the admiral's ship, la Bretagne, of one hundred and ten guns,
la Ville de Paris, of ninety, which carried the count de Guichen ;-two
of eighty, twelve of seventy-feur, one of seventy, two of sixty-four.
one of sixty, and two of fifty, besides a great number of frigates.
It was the intention of the count d'Orvilliers not to come to an
engagement except with great probabilities of success ; and this by
no means for want of an intrepid valor, and of a perfect knowl-
edge of naval tactics ; but he chose first to exercise his crews
thoroughly. He hoped, also, without exposing himself to the hazards
of an action, to give England some severe blows, by employing his
light vessels to capture the convoys which she daily expected from
the two Indies. He shaped his course for the Isle of Ouessant, in
the full persuasion that the British fleet, which he supposed to con-
sist but of twenty sail of the line, would not presume to venture out
of port, or, if it showed itself, that he should certainly defeat or
disperse it, and that, in all events, he should acquire the dominion of
the sea. Fortune appeared to favor these first efforts ; scarcely had
he quitted the road of Brest, when he discovered the English frigate,
the Lively, which admiral Keppel had detached upon discovery ; he
ordered her to be chased, and she was soon taken. The entire
world was attentive to what might ensue, on seeing the two most
potent nations of Europe marshaled the one against the other, on
the ocean. To this object, and not in vain, had the government of
France aimed all its calculations for several years back. Its ships
were completely equipped, its seamen well trained, its captains
excellent. It remained only that fortune should smile upon such
magnanimous designs. The two fleets came in sight of each other
in the evening of the twenty-third of July, the Isle of Ouessant being
thirty leagues distant, and the wind at west. The count d'Orvil-
liers, believing the enemy weaker than he was in reality, desired
BOOK X. THE AMERICAN WAR. ) 15
impatiently to bring him to action. But on approaching the British
fleet, and finding it nearly as strong as his own, he avoided an
engagement no less cautiously than he had eagerly sought it at first.
As he had the advantage of the wind, it was impossible for the
English to force him to it, against his will. During the night; two
French ships were driven by the force of the wind to the leeward of
the British fleet. Admiral Keppel, having perceived it in the morn-
ing, made signal to give chase and cut them oflf from the main body
of their fleet. He hoped that in order to save them, the French
admiral would give him battle, or at least that these ships would
be taken, or so forced out of their course that it would be impos-
sible for them to rejoin their fleet. The count d'Orvilliers prefer-
red not to make any movement to succor them ; and thus the
two vessels, though they had the good fortune to escape the English,
were chased so far, that they could take no part in the events which
followed.
During the four following days the two fleets remained in sight ;
the British admiral endeavoring all the time to get the wind, or to
beat up so near the French fleet as to force it to action. But to
arrive at this object, it was impossible to maintain the disposition
entire ; and therefore Keppel had commanded that the ships should
take rank according to their swiftness, as they gained to the wind-
ward, with attention, however, to keep their distances as much as
possible. This movement was also necessary, in order not to lose
sight of the enemy. But it was not without danger, since it might
offer the French an occasion to fall suddenly with superior force
upon some one of the English ships. It was also the cause, that on
the twenty-seventh, the day of battle, the French fleet was formed
in better order than that of England, which appeared deranged.
On the morning of that day, the wind continuing from the west, and
favoring the French, the two fleets were separated, one from the
other, a distance of only three leagues, in such a manner, however,
that the English rear found itself a little more to the leeward than
the center and van. Keppel therefore ordered Palliser, who com-
manded it, to press up to the windward, in order to form in a line
with the two other divisions of the fleet. Palliser executed the
orders of the admiral. This movement induced the count d'Orvil-
liers to believe, and perhaps not without reason, as Palliser con-
tinued to crowd more and more to the windward, that it was the
intention of the enemy to attack the French rear, and to gain on the
opposite tack the weathergage of that division. To defeat this
maneuver, he directly put his ships about, and reversing his order
of battle, his rear became van. This very movement, together wilh
116 THE AMERICAN WAR. BOOK X.
some variations in the wind, of which the English dexterously availed
themselves, brought the two fleets so near each other, that the
action commenced immediately, the wind blowing from the west,
and the French running from north to south, the English from south
to north. This manner of combating, by which a close and station-
ary action was avoided, the ships firing only as they passed each
other in opposite directions, was the result of the maneuver just
made by the French fleet.
It suited the count d'Orvilliers so much the better, as, since he
had not been able to decline the engagement, it assured him, at
least, that it could not be decisive. For it was a necessary conse-
quence of this order of battle, that the two fleets must break their
line during the action, and that the party who should have sustained
the least damage, could not immediately pursue their advantages,
whether against any particular ship of the enemy, or against his
entire fleet. The two fleets thus standing on opposite tacks, and
but a slight distance apart, the first ships of the English van, and
those of the French rear, which, as we have said, was become the
van, began to exchange broadsides, and the battle was joined suc-
cessively, as the whole English line passed close alongside of the
whole French line ; so that the rear, commanded by sir Hugh Palli-
ser, and the van by the count Duchaffault, were the last to attack
each other. The effects of this collision were very destructive on
both sides ; but as the French, according to their custom, had fired
at the tackling, and the English, as they usually do, at the body of
the ships, the hulls of the French vessels were more severely dam-
aged than those of their enemies ; whereas the English were much
greater sufferers in their masts, yards, and rigging. The French,
profiting of this advantage of their sails, soon tacked, and formed
their line anew. The British van and center also in a short time
recovered their stations, though the admiral's ship had suffered
extremely. But the ships of Palliser and several others, not only
had not yet tacked, but being in a disabled condition, they obeyed
the wind, and fell rapidly to leeward. In this state of things,
whether the count d'Orvilliers intended, as the English pretend, to
cut their 'line, and separate these ships from the rest of the fleet, or,
as the French affirm, wishing to place himself under the wind, in
order, as he expected a second battle, to deprive the English of the
advantage he would thus gain for himself, of using the lower batteries
with effect, he made signals for all his fleet to advance by a succes-
sive movement, and penetrate between the ships of Keppel and
those of Palliser.
The English admiral, perceiving the design of his adversary,
BOOK X. THE AMERICAN WAR. 117
immediately put his ships about, and stood athwart the enemy's
foremost division, directing at the same time sir Robert Harland to
form his division in a line astern, in order to face the enemy, till sir
Hugh Palliser could bring up his ships. It is not clear, whether
this movement of Keppel frustrated the project of the count d'Orvil-
liers for intercepting Palliser's division, or whether it was merely
the intention of that admiral to get under the wind ; but certain it is,
that in consequence of this evolution the English remained to the
windward. It was therefore in their power to renew the battle,
provided, however, that all their ships had been in condition to take
part in the action ; and this would have been the wish of Keppeh
But the squadron of Palliser, since the admiral and Harland had
thrown themselves between him and the French, to whom they were
now very near, found itself to the windward of the other divisions,
and, of course, remote from the French fleet, and little within reach
to be of any assistance in case of a new engagement. On this con-
sideration, Keppel made a signal for all the ships to the windward to
resume their respective posts in the order of battle. Here a mistake
happened, which prevented the execution of his orders. Palliser's
ship, the Formidable, not having repeated the signal, the captains of
the other ships understood that of Keppel as an order to rally in
the wake of the commander of their own division, which they did
accordingly.
Meanwhile, the French continued drawn up, to leeward, in order
of battle. Keppel renewed the same signal, but with no better suc-
cess. Afterwards, about five in the evening, [Palliser says at seven,]
he commanded the captain of the frigate Fox to convey to Palliser
a verbal message of the same import as the order he had already
intimated by signals. It was still in vain ; neither the Formidable
nor the other ships obeyed. On seeing this, and the day far spent,
Keppel made the signal to each of the ships of Palliser to resume
their stations in the line ; excepting, however, the Formidable, ap-
parently from a certain regard to the rank and particular functions
of the vice-admiral. This time, his orders were executed ; but night
came, and put an end to all possibility of further operations against
the enemy.
Such were the causes which prevented admiral Keppel from renew-
ing the battle ; whether the disobedience of Palliser proceeded from
the impossibility of managing his ships, disabled in the engagement,
as seems probable, and as the court martial decided, in the solemn
trial which followed, or that it was owing to any personal pique of
that officer, who, being of the ministerial party, was politically at
variance with Keppel. Be this as it may, the French thence took
118 THE AMERICAN WAR. BOOK X.
occasion to say, that from noon till night they offered battle to Kep-
pel, who would not accept it. The fact in itself is incontestable ;
but as to the intentions of the British admiral, it is certain that he
was well disposed to recommence the action, but was prevented by
the obstacles we have just related.
Satisfied with their conduct in this combat, and with its issue,
which might be represented as a victory, a thing so important at this
first epoch of the war, or finding the condition of their fleet too shat-
tered to warrant their exposing themselves to the hazards of a second
battle, the French profited in the night of a fair wind to recover their
own coasts ; and entered the next day with full sails into the port of
Brest. They had, however, left in the place of battle, three ships
with lights at the mast heads, to deceive the English into the belief
that all their fleet was still there. At break of day, the French fleet
was already at such a distance that it was only discernible from the
mast heads of the largest ships in the British fleet ; nothing remained
in sight but the three vessels above mentioned. Keppel ordered the
Prince George, the Robust, and another ship, to give them chase,
but as they were good sailers, and the English had suffered extremely
in their sails and rigging, this pursuit was fruitless. Admiral
Keppel made the best of his way to Plymouth, where he purposed
to repair the damages of his fleet ; he left, however, some ships that
had suffered the least, to protect the British trade, and especially the
fleets which were expected.
The English, in this action, had one hundred and forty killed,
and about four hundred wounded. The loss of the French is
uncertain ; but it is probable that it exceeded that of the English.
Some private authorities lead to this belief, as also the throng of
sailors and marines with which they are accustomed to fill their
vessels.
The two fleets proceeded again to sea the next month. But
whether they mutually sought to meet each other, as they gave out,
or that each endeavored to avoid the other, as it was reciprocally
asserted, it is certain that they did not meet again. It is equally
indisputable that the trade of England was effectually protected ;
while, on the other hand, an immense number of French vessels,
with rich and valuable cargoes, fell into the power of the enemy.
These losses excited the complaints of the cities of Bordeaux, Nantz,
Saint Malo, and Havre de Grace.
Such was the issue of the battle of Ouessant, which commenced
the European war. The English observed in it, to their great sur-
prise, that the French not only fought with their accustomed valor
Kut that they displayed also no ordinary dexterity in profiting of the
BOOK X. THE AMERICAN WAR. 119
advantage of wind, in the management of their ships, and in theii
naval evolutions. Hence they could not but infer, that if they ob-
tained successes in the present war, they would have to pay dearer
for them than in the last.
Public rejoicings were made in France, to animate the people,
and inspire them with better hopes. The impression was quite dif-
ferent in England ; some complained of Keppel, others of Palliser,
according to the various humors of the parties ; all of fortune. Af-
ter certain warm discussions, the admiral and vice-admiral were both
put upon trial ; but both were acquitted ; the first, to the universal
exultation of the people ; the second, to the particular gratification
of the friends of the ministry.
END OF BOOK TENTH .
ISO THE AMERICAN WAR. BOOK XI.
BOOK ELEVENTH.
* 1778. THE unfortunate issue of the war of Canada, and the in-
utifity of the advantages obtained in the campaign of Pennsylvania,
had at length shaken the obstinacy of the British ministers. They
began to believe that it was impossible to reduce the Americans by
force of arms ; and every day confirmed them in this persuasion,
since France, so powerful by land and by sea, had united her forces
lo those of the congress It was too manifest to be doubted, that if
the Americans had been able to withstand, in the preceding cam-
paign, the utmost efforts of England, it would be infinitely more easy
for them to resist in future ; their union being more consolidated by
time, their hopes secured by propitious fortune, and their arms
seconded by those of a formidable potentate. Besides, it was no
longer to be hoped that as many troops could be sent to America in
future years as had been sent thither in the past. For, without ref-
erence to the almost absolute impossibility of procuring more Ger-
man troops, and the extreme slowness of recruiting in England, there
was to be feared an invasion of the French, in the very heart of the
kingdom, and moreover, it was necessary to throw strong garrisons
into the West India islands, to shelter them from the assaults of the
French, who were known to have a respectable force in their vicin-
ity. It was no mystery in the British cabinet, that the principal ob-
ject which the French were aiming at in the present war, after the
separation of America from Great Britain, was the conquest of the
rich colonies of England in the West Indies; and that in anticipation
of events they had assembled numerous troops in their own posses-
sions. The English islands of the West Indies thus found themselves
exposed, almost without defense, to the attempts of the enemy.
Whether the ministers had believed that war with France was not
likely to break out immediately, or that they had relied upon their
sanguine hopes of a complete triumph in the preceding campaign,
they had flattered themselves that, in any event, their victories upon
the American continent would enable them to pass into their islands,
in good time, all the succors that could be necessary. Jealousy was
also entertained of Canada, not only on the part of the Americans,
but also, and much more, on that of the French ; for the Canadians
were more French than English, and the memory of their origin
appeared to be still dear to them. It was therefore necessary to leave
in that province such garrisons as could answer for it. These vari-
ous considerations not only rendered it impracticable to re-inforce
BOOK XI. THE AMERICAN WAR. 121
the armies which acted against the United States, but even imposed
the necessity of weakening them by detachments for the different
exigencies of the service. But, on the other hand, the courage of
the ministers did not desert them. They hoped that offers of accom-
modation, a new mode of conducting the war, and, perhaps, victories
over France, would enable them to compass that which by arms alone
they had hitherto failed to obtain. They persuaded themselves that
the Americans, tired of a long war, and finding their resources ex-
hausted, would readily consent to an arrangement ; or that, even if
the congress refused, the greater part of the nation, at least, would
manifest an eagerness to listen to their proposals ; and already they
beheld intestine dissensions opening the way to the re-establishment
of ancient relations, if not an absolute subjugation.
To provide for this consummation, the clause had been added to
the act of conciliation, which empowered the commissioners to treat,
not only with any public authority, but even with every description
of private citizens whatsoever. After having encountered an ob-
stinate resistance in the inhabitants of the northern provinces, they
had been assured by the refugees, in whom they put all their trust,
that they would find far more pliable matter in those of the south.
They determined accordingly to make these the seat of the war, in
the hope, that as they abounded more in subjects devoted to the
crown, they would manifest greater repugnance to combating the
troops of the king, and more inclination to listen to his negotiators.
Besides, the fertile lands and exuberant pasturage of these provinces
rendered them extremely accommodate for the subsistence of armies,
at the same time that the inhabitants would have a motive in this
very abundance the more to dread the devastations inseparable from
war. But whatever was the foundation of these hopes, the minis-
ters were resolved to resume hostilities as soon as the negotiations
should cea^e to promise any result, in order to avoid the appearance
of yielding to the threats of France. Without allowing themselves
to be intimidated by the consequences which might attend the war
with America, they considered themselves bound by that regard
which every state owes to its own honor and dignity, to try yet for
a time the fortune of arms. If it proved necessary at last to ac-
knowledge the independence of America, which was become the
principal point in contest, they thought it could never be too late for
that, and they reputed it better to submit honorably to adverse for-
tune and the decision of the sword, than to bow ignominiously, and
without combat, to the menaces of an arrogant enemy. Such were
the motives which influenced the British ministers in the present pe-
riod of the war, and which were afterwards the basis of all their res-
122 THE AMERICAN WAR. BOOK XI.
olutions. But perfectly sensible that if England made no new over-
tures, the congress would not fail to ratify the treaty contracted with
France, and that it would become then much more difficult for that
body to retract its resolutions, the British ministers hastened to .
transmit to America the bill of coneiliation, even before it had yet
been approved in parliament. They-flattered themselves that the
Americans thus finding that England renounced what had been the
first and capital cause of the differences, that is, the right of taxa-
tion, all other difficulties would be promptly smoothed, and the rat-
ification of the treaty readily prevented. This first point gained, the
commissioners would only have had, as it were, to appear, in order
to affix the seal to a definitive arrangement. Accordingly, copies
of the bill were received at New York about the middle of the month
of April. Governor Tryon, a shrewd and active man, as we have
seen, after having caused it to be published in the city, found means
to circulate it among the Americans, much extolling the good dispo-
sitions of the government towards America. He wrote at the same
time to general Washington, and to Trumbull, the governor of New
Jersey, requesting them, a thing really without example, to bring this
project of an act of parliament to the knowledge of soldiers and of
inhabitants. Washington referred the whole to the congress, that
they might take the proper measures. Trumbull replied to Tryon
in a very energetic style, that he was not a little surprised at this
strange mode of negotiation between two nations ; that in similar
cases, demands and propositions are addressed, not to the multitude,
but to those who govern ; that there had been a time, indeed, when
such a proposal of the mother country might have been received
with alacrity and gratitude, but that such time was irrevocably elapsed.
He reminded of petitions rejected, hostilities commenced rjid pros-
ecuted with so much barbarity on the part of the Englip.i, their in-
solence in good fortune, the cruelties exercised against prisoners,
injuries which had interposed an insuperable obstacle to reconcilia-
tion. < Peace,' he added, < cannot subsist but with our independence.
The English will then find the Americans as sincere friends as they
are now determined and dangerous enemies. If they would have
peace, let them abandon all insidious procedures, and demand it
openly of those who can grant it.' Meanwhile, the congress, on re-
ceipt of their general's dispatches, deliberated upon the step, they
had to take.
Considering themselves as already sure of the assistance of France,
and indignant of these new machinations of the English, they decreed
that any men, or body of men whatsoever, who should presume to
make any separate or partial convention or agreement with commis-
BOOK XI. THE AMERICAN WAR 1 23
sioners under the crown of Great Britain, should be reputed and
treated as enemies of the United States ; that these states could riot
enter into any conference or treaty with the agents of Great Britain,
except they should, as a preliminary thereto, either withdraw their
fleets and armies, or else in positive and express terms acknowledge
the independence of the United States. Finally, it being the design of
the enemy to full the inhabitants of America, by this soothing sound
of peace, into a neglect of warlike preparations, it was earnestly rec-
ommended to the different states to use the most strenuous exer-
tions to have their respective quotas of continental troops in the field
as soon as possible ; and that all the militia of the said states might
be held in readiness to act as occasion might require. The congress
then, in order to show of how little importance they esteemed the
bills of parliament, and the intrigues of Tryon to diffuse them, em-
braced the generous counsel of causing them to be published in the
public prints, together with the resolutions they had just passed.
But on the other hand, under the apprehension that many of those
who had hitherto attached themselves to the English party, in de-
spair of finding pardon in their country, might not only persist in their
obstinacy, but profiting of the amnesty offered by the British govern-
ment, might also employ their influence to draw over to its interest
even such as had remained faithful to the common cause, they pass-
ed a resolution, recommending to the several states, to grant a full
remission of all guilt and penalties, except the restrictions they might
deem necessary, to all those who had borne arms against the United
States, or assisted the enemy in any way whatsoever. Each indi-
vidual was assured of pardon for the offenses he might have com-
mitted up to that time, and the citizens were invited to a mutual
forgiveness and oblivion of past wrongs and injuries.
But the English soldiers in America, strangers to the political
considerations by which states are guided, and bitterly irritated at
the obstinate resistance of the Americans, were inconceivably shocked
at hearing of the unexpected resolutions of the ministers. They
were for absolute conquest, and submission without reserve. They
could not endure this shameful condescension ; they asked why
this ignominious retraction, why this solicitude to offer what at first
was refused with so much pertinacity ? They expected, upon the
faith of promises, a re-inforcement of twenty thousand of their fellow-
soldiers, and they received in their stead acts of concession. The
discontent was so extreme in the camp, as to manifest itself in sedi-
tious words, and acts of violence ; the s<§diers in their fury presumed
even to rend their colors ; others, and principally the Scotch, tore in
pieces the acts of parliament. If such was the indignation of the
124 THE AMERICAN WAB. BOOK II.
British troops, it is easy to conceive what was the despair of the
American refugees They saw blasted in a moment their confident
hopes of returning victorious to their habitations ; and perhaps some
of them gnashed at finding themselves frustrated of intended ven-
geance.
With so much industry and so little fruit did the agents of England
labor in America to conciliate minds towards the mother country ;
and with so much energy and success did tb~ congress endeavor to
baffle all their efforts !
The second of May was the day destined to carry to its utmost
height the exultation of the Americans, and to put the seal to the
dismemberment of the vast and powerful British empire. On this
day arrived at Casco Bay, the French frigate La Sensible, com-
manded by M. de Marigny. She had been selected as an excellent
sailer, to bear to the congress the treaties concluded with France ;
she had departed from Brest the eighth of March, having on board
Simon Deane, brother of Silas. She brought, besides, happy news
of all the European continent, and of an unanimity still more sincere
than ever, of the people and of the princes in favor of America.
The congress was immediately convened : we shall not attempt to
describe their satisfaction and alacrity at the sight of the treaties
They were ratified as soon as read. Unable to control the flush oc-
easioned by so great an event, they forgot the rules of prudence. New
states too frequently err in this ; allowing themselves to be hurried
away by an inconsiderate ardor, and impatient to communicate it to
the people they govern, they are betrayed into impolitic steps. In
this respect, widely different from ancient states ; these, always cir
cumspect and wrapped up in mystery, are reluctant to break silence
even when every thing appears to exact it. The congress at once
made public the dispatches they had just received ; this disclosure
was disagreeable to several powers, and especially to Spain, who
would have chosen not to declare herself before the appointed time.
The proclamation issued to that effect, spoke not only of the treaty of
commerce concluded with France, but even of the treaty of alliance ,
it announced, without any reserve, that the emperor of Germany, the
kings of Spain and Prussia, were determined to support them ; that
the king of Prussia, in particular, would not permit that the troops
levied in Hesse and Hanau should pass through his territories in
order to embark in the English vessels, and that he would be the
second potentate in Europe who would acknowledge the indepen-
dence of America ; that fifty thousand French were marched upon
the coasts of Normandy and of Brittany ; and, finally, that the navies
of France and Spain (as if the intervention of this power was already
BOOK XI. THE AMERICAN WAR. 126
secured) amounted to two hundred ships, ready to sail for the suc-
cor of America. The congress afterwards drew up and published
a solemn address to the people of America ; this piece was wrought
with much care, though a little strange from its tumid style, and the
religious sentences with which it was interspersed. It was recom-
mended to all ministers of the gospel, of whatever denomination, to
read this address to their congregations, immediately after divine
service. It represented in the most vivid colors the vicissitudes of
the state in the course of the late years ; the virtue, the courage, the
patience of the Americans ; the perfidy, the injustice, the cruelty,
the tyranny of the English ; the assistance of God visibly afforded to
the just cause ; and the ancient weakness of the colonies succeeded
by their present security. ' The haughty prince,' continued the
address, ' who spurned us from his feet with contumely and disdain,
and the parliament which proscribed us, now descend to offer terms
of accommodation.
' While in the full career of victory, they pulled off the mask, and
avowed their intended despotism. But having lavished in vain the
blood and treasure of their subjects in pursuit of this execrable pur-
pose, they now endeavor to ensnare us with the insidious offers of
reconciliation. They intend to lull you with fallacious hopes of
peace, until they can assemble new armies to prosecute their nefarious
designs. If this is not the case, why do they strain every nerve to
levy men throughout their islands ? Why do they meanly court every
little tyrant of Europe to sell them his unhappy slaves ? Why do they
continue to imbitter the minds of the savages against you ? Surely,
this is not the way to conciliate the affections of America. Be not,
therefore, deceived. You have still to expect one severe conflict.
Your foreign alliances, though they secure your independence, can-
not secure your country from desolation, your habitations from
plunder, your wives from insult or violation, nor your children from
butchery. Foiled in their principal design, you must expect to feel
the rage of disappointed ambition. Arise then ! to your tents ! and
gird you for battle ! It is time to turn the headlong current of ven-
geance upon the head of the destroyer. They have filled up the
measure of their abominations, and like ripe fruit must soon drop
from the tree. Although much is done, yet much remains to do.
Expect not peace, while any corner of America is in possession of
your foes. You must drive them away from this land of promise, a
land flowing indeed with milk and honey. Your brethren, at the
extremities of the continent, already implore your friendship and
protection. It is your duty to grant their request. They hunger and
(26 THE AMERICAN WAR. BOOK XI.
thirst after liberty. Be it yours to dispense to them the heavenly
gift, " since a kind Providence has placed it in your power." '
The congress also published those articles of the treaty of amity
and commence which related to the reciprocal intercourse between
the two nations, to the end that the inhabitants of the United States
might govern themselves conformably to the same. They exhorted
them to consider the French as their brethren, and to behave
towards them with the friendship and attention due to the subjects
of a great prince, who with the highest magnanimity and wisdom had
treated with the United States on terms of perfect equality and
mutual advantage, thereby rendering himself the protector of the
rights of mankind.
Great were the rejoicings in all parts of the United States ; the
name of Louis XVI. was in all mouths. Every where he was pro-
claimed the protector of liberty, the defender of America, the savior
of the country. These joyful tidings were announced with great
solemnity to the army, which still occupied the camp of Valley
Forge ; the soldiers were under arms, and all the corps formed in
order of battle.
Meanwhile, the three pacificatory commissioners, Carlisle, Eden,
and Johnstone, had arrived in the waters of the Delaware at the
beginning of June ; they repaired to Philadelphia the ninth. Gene-
ral Clinton notified their arrival to Washington, praying him to send
a passport to doctor Ferguson, secretary of the commissioners, that
he might, without danger, deliver their dispatches to the congress.
Washington refused the passport, and his refusal obtained the special
approbation of the government. The commissioners then decided
to forward their letters by the ordinary post. The congress received
them in their sitting of the thirteenth, with an express from Washing-
ton. They were read to certain words in the letter directed ' to his
excellency Henry Laurens, the president and others, the members
of congress.' No sooner were they heard, than a violent clamor
arose ; many members exclaimed that the reading ought to be inter-
rupted on account of the offensive language against his most Christian
majesty.
The words were these : * We cannot but remark the insidious in-
terposition of a power, which has from the first settlement of the
colonies been actuated with enmity to us both ; and notwithstanding
the pretended date or present form of the French offers to North
America, it is notorious that they have only been made, because it
was believed that Great Britain had conceived the design of an
amicable arrangement, and with a view to prevent reconciliation, and
prolong this destructive war.' After animated debates, the further
BOOK XI. THE AMERICAN WAR. 1 27
consideration of the subject was adjourned to the next sitting. The
question was agitated with equal vehemence the following days.
Finally, the congress, having demonstrated, by the warmth of this
discussion, the respect they bore to their august ally, reflected, on the
other hand, that it was more prudent to answer than to keep silence.
It was easy to lay before the people such motives as were likely to
dissuade them from accepting the proposals of England, whereas a
refusal to notice them might occasion discontents prejudicial to the
state. They determined, accordingly, to read the dispatches of the
commissioners. They consisted in the letter addressed to the
president of congress, a copy of their commission, and three acts of
parliament. The commissioners offered in their letter more than would
have been required, in the origin of the quarrel, to appease the minds
of the colonists and re-establish tranquillity ; but less than was neces-
sary at present to obtain peace. They endeavored to persuade the
Americans that the conditions of the arrangement were not only
favorable, but also perfectly sure, and of such a nature that the two
parties would know, for the future, upon what footing they were to
live together ; that their friendship would thus be established upon
solid bases, as it should be, in order to be durable. They declared
themselves ready to consent to an immediate cessation of hostilities
by sea and land ; to restore a free intercourse, and to renew the
common benefits of naturalization throughout the several parts of the
empire ; to extend every freedom to trade that the respective inter-
ests of both parties could require ; to 'agree that /no military force
should be kept up in the different states of North America, without
the consent of the general congress, or of the particular assemblies ;
to concur in such measures as would be requisite to discharge the
debts of America, and to raise the credit and the value of the paper
circulation ; to perpetuate the common union by a reciprocal depu-
tation of agents from the different states, who should have the priv-
ilege of a seat and voice in the parliament of Great Britain ; or if
sent from Britain, in that case, to have a seat and voice in the assem-
bly of the different states to which they might be deputed respective-
ly ; in order to attend to the several interests of those by whom they-
were deputed ; to establish the right and power of the respective
legislatures in each particular state, of settling its revenue and its
civil and military establishment, and of exercising a perfect freedom
of legislation and internal government^, so that the British states
throughout North America, acting with those of Europe in peace
and war, under one common sovereign, might have the irrevocable
enjoyment of every privilege that was short of a total separation of
128 THE AMERICAN WAR. BOOK XL
interest, or consistent with that union of force on which the security
of British religion and liberty depended.
Finally, the commissioners expressed their desire to open confer-
ences with congress, or with some of its members, either at New
York, at Philadelphia, or at Yorktown, or in such other place as it
might please the congress to appoint.
Thus, to terminate a war, already pushed to a great length, those
who in its origin would hear of nothing short of the absolute reduc-
tion of America, abated all the rigor of their conditions.
Meanwhile, the congress took into serious consideration the state
of affairs. The debates that ensued upon this subject, were drawn
into length ; not that any individual thought of renouncing indepen-
dence, but all took an interest in the form of the answer to be given
to the commissioners. The discussion was continued until the sev-
enteenth of June. On that day, the congress answered with as much
conciseness as dignity ; they already felt how greatly their position
was meliorated by the success of their arms and the alliance of
France. Their reply purported, that the acts of the British parlia-
ment, the very commission of the agents, and their letters to con-
gress, supposed the people of the United States to be subjects of the
crown of Great Britain, and were founded on the idea of depen-
dence, which was utterly inadmissible ; that, nevertheless, the Amer-
icans were inclined to peace, notwithstanding the unjust claims from
which the war had originated, and the savage manner in which it
had been conducted. That congress would therefore be ready to
enter upon the consideration of a treaty of peace and commerce,
not inconsistent with treaties already subsisting, when the king of
Great Britain should demonstrate a sincere disposition for that pur-
pose ; of which no other proof could be admitted but that of an ex-
plicit acknowledgment of the independence of the United States, or
the withdrawing of his fleets and armies.
Thus, the Americans, steady in their resolutions, chose rather to
trust to their own fortune, which they had already proved, and to
the hope they placed in that of France, than to link themselves anew
to the tottering destiny of England ; abandoning all idea of peace,
war became the sole object of their solicitude. Such was the issue
of the attempts to effect an accommodation ; and thus were extin-
guished the hopes which the negotiation had given birth to in Eng-
land. But not consenting to concessions until the time for them was
passed, the English justified the refusal of the Americans. It can
not be affirmed that these overtures on the part of the first, wero
only an artifice to divide the second among themselves, to detach
them from France, and to have them afterwards at their discretion j
BOOK XI. THE AMERICAN WAR. 129
but it is certain that after so many rancorous animosities, so many
sanguinary battles, after the innumerable excesses of rapine, cruelty
and lust, the Americans could not be blamed for suspecting the
British ministers of a design to insnare them.
The wound was incurable, and friendship could not be restored.
This was a truth of universal evidence ; the seeming inclined to be-
lieve the contrary, was sufficient to inspire apprehensions of treach-
ery, and the extreme of distrust in all flattering promises. Whoever
shall reflect attentively upon the long series of events which we have
related up to this time, will perceive that the Americans were always
constant in their resolution, the English always versatile, uncertain,
and wavering. Hence it is not at all surprising that those found
new friends, and that these not only lost theirs, but also made ene-
mies of them at the very moment when they could do them the least
harm, and might receive the most from them. Vigorous resolutions
prevent danger ; half measures invite and aggravate it.
But the chiefs of the American revolution were not without appre-
hension that the insidious caresses, the new concessions of England,
and the secret intrigues of the commissioners, might act powerfully
upon the minds of such citizens as were weak or impatient for re-
pose. The congress, however, was not disposed to give any other
answer except that which has been recounted above. They excited
therefore several writers to justify their resolutions and to defend the
cause of America. This course appeared to them the more proper,
inasmuch as the English commissioners, having lost all hope of suc-
ceeding with the congress, had resorted to the expedient of dissemi-
nating in the country a multitude of writings, by which they en-
deavored to persuade the people that the obstinacy of congress-
would hurry America into an abyss, by alienating her from her old
friends, and giving her up a prey to an inveterate enemy. This-
step of the commissioners furnished the patriots with a new argument
to put the people on their guard against the artifices and intrigues of
the agents of England. Among the writers of this epoch, deserving
of particular mention, is Drayton, one of the deputies of South Car-
olina, and a man of no common erudition. He endeavored to de-
monstrate in the public papers, that the United States having al-
ready treated with France, as free states, and in order to maintain
their independence, they could not now negotiate with the British
commissioners upon the basis of submission j without renouncing that
faith and ingenuousness which ought to preside over all their trans-
actions, without exposing the American people to be accounted
faithless and infamous, and consequently to lose for ever all hope of
foreign succors ; while on the other hand they would find them-
VOL. n. 9
|30 THE AMERICAN WAR. BOOK XI.
4»
selves placed without resource in the power of those who had given
them heretofore such fatal proofs of their perfidy and cruelty. ' Be-
sides,' he added, ' the conventions that we might make with the
commissioners would not be definitive ; they would need the ratifica-
tion of the king, of the ministers, and of the parliament ; and what
assurance have we that they would have it ? But let it be supposed.
can we be assured that a future parliament will not annul all these
treaties ? Let us not forget, that we have to do with an enemy as
faithless and fraudulent as barbarous. How is it possible not to sus-
pect a snare, when we hear the commissioners offer us propositions
which exceed their powers, and contradict even the acts of parlia-
ment ? ' Thus the patriots repulsed the offers, the promises, and the
arguments of the British commissioners. Finding no accessible
point, the latter were at length convinced that all hope of concilia-
tion must be relinquished. If they could still have remained under
any illusion upon this point, it must soon have been dissipated by the
evacuation which their generals made, at the same instant, of the
city of Philadelphia, the acquisition of which had been the fruit of
so much blood, and of two arduous campaigns. The ministers
feared, what actually happened, that a French fleet might suddenly
enter the Delaware, and place the British army, which occupied
Philadelphia, in extreme jeopardy. Their design was, besides, to
carry the war into the southern provinces, and to send a part of the
troops to defend their islands of the West Indies against the attacks
of the new enemy. The diminution that must result from it in the
army of the continent, induced them to send orders to Clinton, by
the commissioner Eden, to evacuate Philadelphia without delay, and
to fall back upon New York. This measure, dictated by prudence,
and even by necessity, was interpreted by the Americans as a symp-
tom of terror ; and it consequently must have had the most prejudi-
cial influence upon the success of the negotiations. What need
have we, they said, to enter into an accommodation with the Eng-
lish, when their retreat is a virtual avowal of the inferiority of their
arms?
Be this as it may, Clinton prepared to execute the orders of his
government. But in order to repair by land to New York, it was
necessary to traverse New Jersey, a province, in which, for reasons
already stated, he must expect to meet only with enemies. It was,
besides, exhausted by long war. Foreseeing, therefore, that he
might want provisions, the English general, before evacuating Phila-
delphia, had collected them in considerable quantity, and loaded
them upon a great number of carriages. It is true, that as the fleet
of lord Howe still remained in the waters of the Delaware, the army
BOOK XI. THE AMERICAN WAR. 131
might have been transported to New York by sea ; the Americans
themselves expected it, and Washington apprehended it much. But
the difficulties and delays of the embarkation, and perhaps also the
fear of encountering the French fleet in superior force, deterred the
English from taking this route. Clinton and Howe having made the
necessary dispositions, the whole army passed the Delaware very
early on the twenty-second of June ; and, descending the river a
little, landed at Gloucester Point, upon 'the territory of New Jersey.
It immediately proceeded, with all its baggage, towards Haddonfield,
where it arrived the same day.
Washington was soon apprised in his camp at Valley Forge, that
the British army was in motion ; without loss of time he sent general
Dickinson to assemble the militia of New Jersjey under arms. At
the same time, in order to support them by a respectable corps of
continental troops, he ordered general Maxwell to march into New
Jersey. Their mutual efforts were to embarrass, by all possible im-
pediments, the retreat of the British army ; to break up the roads,
to cut the bridges, to fell trees, and to plant them in abattis. It was
recommended to them at the same time to avoid hazardous move-
ments and unexpected actions. Such were the first steps taken by
Washington in order to retard the enemy, until he could advance
himself with the main body of his army into New Jersey, and ob-
serve in person what there was to be done. In the meantime, he
assembled his council of war at Valley Forge, and submitted to their
deliberation whether it was proper, by harassing the enemy's rear,
to do him all the harm possible, without, however, coming to a gene-
ral engagement ; or whether it was more advisable to attack him in
front, and try the fortune of a decisive battle. The opinions differed,
and were for some time in balance. General Lee, who a little
before had been exchanged for Prescott, considering the equality of
the forces of the two armies, and the posture of affairs, become too
favorable to be exposed without necessity to the hazard of battles,
perhaps also having little confidence in the discipline of the Ameri-
can troops, was of the opinion that they should not be put to the
test anew, and that an action should be avoided. He was for being
content with following the enemy, observing his motions, and pre-
venting him from ravaging the country. This counsel was adopted
by the greater part of the generals. The others, among whom was
Washington himself, thought differently, and were inclined, in case
a favorable occasion should present itself, to engage a general affair.
They could not bring their minds to endure that the enemy should
retire with impunity during so long a march, and they persuaded
themselves that they had every thing to expect from soldiers whose
132 THE AMERICAN WAR. BOOK XI.
constancy, the rigor of the seasons, and the scarcity of things the
most necessary to life, had not been able to subdue. They reflect-
ed, besides, that the English army was embarrassed with the most
cumbersome baggage, and they doubted not but that, in the nume-
rous defiles it would have to* thread, some favorable occasion must
offer itself to attack with advantage. Nevertheless, the opinion of
the majority prevailed, not without evident dissatisfaction on the part
of Washington, who, according to his character of personal perti-
nacity, remained steadfast in his way of thinking.
The same day in which the English abandoned Philadelphia, he
moved from his camp of Valley Forge, and crossing the Delaware
at Coryells Ferry, because Clinton was marching up the river, he
went to take post at Hopewell. He was in great uncertainty
respecting the designs of the enemy. Their slow march, which was
the effect of the immoderate quantity of their baggage, and not a
stratagem, induced him to suspect that their aim was to draw him
beyond the Rariton, into the open plains of New Jersey, and then,
rapidly, turning his right, to lock him against the river, and constrain
him to join battle with disadvantage. He proceeded, therefore, with
extreme circumspection, and did not allow himself to be enticed to
venture across the Rariton.
Meanwhile, the English had already reached Allentown. Wash-
ington detached Morgan with his light horse, to harass their right
flank, while Maxwell and Dickinson infested them on the left, and
general Cadwallader in rear. But when Clinton found himself in
Allentown, he reflected upon the way he had to take in order to
arrive at New York. By turning towards the Rariton, he might pro-
ceed to Brunswick, pass the river there, push for Staten Island, and
thence to New York. Another route presented itself on the right,
by passing through Monmouth and gaining \viih rapidity the heights
of Middletown, whence it was easy to pass to Sandy Hook ; from
that point, the fleet of Howe, which awaited the army, could trans-
port it to New York. General Clinton conceived it an extremely
hazardous enterprise to attempt the passage of the Rariton, with an
army encumbered by such immense convoys, and in the presence of
that of Washington, which he knew was soon to be re-inforced by
the northern troops, under the command of general Gates. He
concluded therefore to pursue the road of Monmouth, and immedi-
ately commenced the march. Washington, who till then had remain-
ed in doubt, because the road from Allentown leads alike to New
Brunswick and to Monmouth, as soon as he got this intelligence,
detached general Wayne with a thousand regular troops to re-
inforce the corps of Cadwallader, in order to enable him with more
BOOK XI. THE AMERICAN WAR. 133
effect to harass, and retard the enemy. The simultaneous action of
the detachments of Wayne, Cadwallader, Dickinson and Morgan,
being of extreme importance, the commander-in-chief put them al'
uncier the command of major-general La Fayette. But the danger
increasing at every instant, as the American van had already come
up with the English rear, Washington judged it necessary to sup-
port it by other corps of regular troops. He directed general Lee
to press forward with two brigades. As the senior, Lee took the
command of the whole vanguard, leaving to the marquis de la Fay-
ette only that of the militia and light horse. General Lee occupied
Englishtown. Washington fo lowed a little distance from the main
body of the army, and encamped at Cranberry. Morgan continued
to infest the right flank of the English, and Dickinson their left.
Things were fast verging to a decisive event. The British army was
encamped upon the heights of Freehold ; descending thence towards
Monmouth, a deep valley is entered, three miles in length and one
in breadth ; it is broken with hillocks, woods, and morasses. Gene-
ral Clinton, seeing the enemy so near, and the battle inevitable, with-
drew all the baggage from the rear, and passed it into the charge of
the van, commanded by general Knyphausen, that while himself
with the rear guard kept the enemy in check, it might be conducted
without molestation to a place of safety upon the hills of Middle-
town. The rear guard, which he retained during the night of the
twenty-seventh in his encampment at Freehold, consisted of several
battalions of English infantry, both heavy and light, the Hessian
grenadiers, and a regiment of cavalry.
The next morning at daybreak, Knyphausen descended into the
valley with the vanguard and his convoy, on his way towards Mid-
dletown, and was soon at a good distance from the camp. Clinton,
with the selected corps he had kept with him, still maintained his
position, as well to retard the enemy, as to give time for the baggage
to gain the heights. Washington, promptly informed of all that
passed, and apprehensive that the English would effect their design
of posting themselves in the mountains of Middletown, the distance
being only a few miles, in which case it became impossible to inter-
rupt their retreat to New York, resolved to give them battle without
further delay.
He ordered general Lee to attack the enemy in front, while Mor-
gan and Dickinson should descend into the valley upon his flanks,
the first to the right, the second to the left, in order to attempt the
column of Knyphausen, encumbered with its long train of carriages
and packhorses. Each put himself in motion to obey. General
Clinton, having resumed his march, was already descended from the
134 THE AMERICAN WAR. BOOK XI.
heights of Freehold, when he perceived that the Americans were
also descending with impetuosity in order to attack him. He was
informed at the same instant, that Knyphausen was exposed to the
greatest peril, his convoy being engaged in defiles, that continued
several miles. Clinton, finding himself under the necessity of fight-
ing, instantly took the only resolution that could extricate him from
the embarrassments of his position. He determined to turn upon
the Americans who menaced his rear, and to charge them with the
utmost vigor. He persuaded himself that, thrown into disorder by
this unexpected attack, they would hasten to recall to their succor
the corps they had detached to int -rcept the baggage. Thus ihe
English rear guard, commanded by (_ ornwallis and Clinton himself,
and the American vanguard, conducted by general Lee, and the
marquis de la Fayette, advanced the one against the other with a
firm resolution to engage.
The artillery began to play, and the Queen's dragoons charged
and routed the light horse of La Fayette. Lee, surprised at the un-
expected determination of Clinton to face about upon the Americans,
and the rapidity with which he had carried it into execution, was
constrained to form his troops upon ground by no means favorable.
He had behind him a ravine which rendered his retreat almost im-
practicable in case of check. Perhups also he was piqued at being
forced to join battle after having supported the contrary opinion.
At the first charge of the English he fell back, not without dis-
order, probably occasioned by the difficulty of the ground. The
enemy pursued him across the ravine, and pressed him hard before
he had time to rally. In this critical moment, Washington arrived
with his corps. Having kept himself ready to move at any instant,
he had pushed forward at the first sound of the firing, having ordered
his soldiers to leave behind them whatever could impede their march,
even to the knapsacks, which they usually carried upon all occasions.
On seeing the retreat or rather flight of the troops of Lee, he was
not master of his anger : he addressed some very harsh words to that
general, and applied himself with equal prudence and courage to
restore the fortune of the day. It was necessary, first of all, to ar-
icst for a faw; moments the impetuosity of the English, in order to
give time for all the corps of the rear guard to come up. Accord-
mgty> the commander-in-chief ordered the battalions of colonels
Stewart and Ramsay to occupy an important post on the left, behind
a tuft of wood, and there to sustain the first efforts of the enemy.
Stung by the reproaches of his general, and stimulated by the point
of honor, even Lee made extreme exertions to rally his troops. He
disposed them on more advantageous ground, where they defended
BOOK XI. THE AMERICAN WAR. 135
themselves valiantly. The English were constrained to renew their
attacks in order to dislodge them. But at length, Lee, as well as
Stewart and Ramsay, overpowered by numbers, were forced to fall
back ; they withdrew, however, without any confusion. Lee retired
to rally anew behind Englishtown ; but in the meantime the Amer-
ican rear guard had arrived upon the field of battle. Washington
disposed these fresh troops, partly in a neighboring wood, and partly
upon a hill situated on the left, from which some pieces of cannon,
which lord Sterling had planted there, severely annoyed the enemy.
The infantry were drawn up in the center, at the foot of the hill in
front of the enemy. At the same time, general Greene, who, on this
day, commanded the right wing, and who had advanced considerably,
on being apprised of the retreat of the vanguard, very prudently
concluded also to fall back.
As soon as he was arrived upon the field of battle, he took a very
strong position on the right of lord Sterling. He likewise posted
his artillery upon a lofty eminence, whence it cruelly infested th<
left wing of the enemy. The English, being thus arrested, and find
ing so harsh a reception in front, attempted to turn the left flank of
the Americans ; but they were repulsed by the light infantry which
Washington had sent there for this purpose. They then directed
their efforts against his right, which they endeavored to surround.
But overwhelmed by the artillery of Greene, they were soon forced
to retreat. As soon as Washington saw them give way, he caused
them to be charged vigorously by the infantry under general Wayne.
The English turned the back, and recrossing the ravine, went to
form anew upon the same ground where general Lee had made his
first halt. Victory was no longer doubtful ; but the new position of
the English was still formidable. Their flanks were covered by
woods, and deep morasses, and their front, being protected by the
same ravine which had deranged the troops of Lee in the beginning
of the action, could only be reached through a narrow pass.
Washington, nevertheless, made his dispositions for renewing the
engagement, having ordered general Poor to charge them upon the
right with his own brigade and a corps of Carolinian militia, and
general Woodfort to attack them upon the left, while the artillery
should play on them in front. Both exerted themselves with alacrity
to execute their orders, and to surmount the obstacles which defended
the flanks of the British army. But the ground was so broken
and difficult that night came on before they had been able to obtain
any advantage. The action soon ceased throughout the line. Wash-
ington would have desired to re-commence it the next morning, with
the day ; he therefore kept all his troops under arms during the night.
136 THE AMERICAN WAR. BOOK XI.
He was vigilant that every thing should be ready ; sparing neither
cares nor fatigue. But the thoughts of Clinton were very differently
occupied. His vanguard and his baggage were already arrived in
safety near Middletown. His calculation had not deceived him, for
he had no sooner attacked the corps of Lee, than that general has-
tened to recall the light troops which had been detached to fall upon
the baggage and the soldiers that guarded it, as they filed through the
valley. During the action, they had continued to march upon Mid-
dletown, and they had arrived the same evening at secure positions
on the hills. Clinton, besides, had not to blush for this day, since
with his rearguard he had repulsed the American van, and had finally
arrested the whole army of the enemy. His troops were greatly
inferior in number to those of Washington ; but it would have been
an imprudence, even for an army of equal force, to risk a new
engagement, when so great a part of it was at such a distance, and
in a country whose inhabitants and whose surface presented little
else but opposition and obstacles. The loss of the battle would have
been followed by the total ruin of the army. On all these considera-
tions, he decided for retreat. He took advantage of the obscurity of
night in order not to be followed, and to avoid the intolerable sultri
ness of the climate during the day. About ten at night, the Ameri-
cans say at midnight, he put his columns in motion for Middletown..
with so profound a silence, that the enemy, though extremely near,
and attentive to observe him, perceived not his retreat. Clinton wrote,
that his march was favored by moonlight. This circumstance afforded
the Americans an abundance of merriment ; it being observed that
the moon was then at its fourth day, and that it was set a little before
eleven at night. Washington, on his part, had to take into consider-
ation the excessive heat of the season, the weariness of his troops,
the nature of the country, very sandy, and without water ; finally, the
distance which the enemy had already gained upon him during the
night. He consequently relinquished the thought of pursuing them,
and allowed his army to repose in the camp of Englishtown until the
first of July. He took this step with the less reluctance, as he con-
sidered it now impracticable to prevent or disturb the embarkation of
the English at Sandy Hook.
Such was the issue of the battle of Freehold, or of Monmouth, as
it is called by the Americans. If they had the worse in its com-
mencement, it terminated in their favor. And it appears very prob-
able, that if the division under Lee had made a firm stand, they
would have gained the most decisive victory. The English, in this
engagement, had three hundred killed, and an equal number wound-
ed ; about one hundred were made prisoners. Many of them also
BOOK XI. THE AMERICAN WAR. 137
deserted, especially of the Hessians. Few were slain on the side of
the Americans. On the one part and on the other many soldiers
died, not of wounds, but of the intense heat of the weather, added to
the fatigue of the day. Washington greatly commended his troops
for the valor they had signalized, and particularly general Wayne.
The congress voted thanks to the army, and especially to the offi-
cers and commander-in-chief. But general Lee, a man of an irasci-
ble character, could not brook the indignity he believed to have been
offered him by Washington, in the presence of his soldiers. He tfiere-
fore wrote two letters to the commander-in-chief, in which his resent-
ment caused him to forget all bounds of respect. They occasioned
the revival of an affair which the usual prudence and moderation of
Washington would have inclined him to pass by. Lee was arrested
and brought before a court martial, to make answer to the three fol-
lowing charges ; for disobedience, in not attacking the enemy on the
twenty-eighth of June, agreeably to his instructions ; for having made
an unnecessary, disorderly, and shameful retreat ; and for disrespect
to the commander-in-chief in his two letters. He defended himself
with great ingenuity, and with a sort of eloquence, so that impartial
and military men remained in doubt whether he was really culpable
or not. Nevertheless, the court martial found him guilty of all the
charges, bating the epithet of shameful, which was expunged, and
sentenced him to be suspended for one year ; a judgment certainly
either too mild, if Lee was guilty, or too severe, if innocent. This
affair occasioned much conversation, some approving, others blaming
the sentence. The congress, though with some hesitation, con-
firmed it.
On the first of July, Washington directed the march of his army
towards the Hudson, in order to secure the passages of the moun-
tains, now the English were in force at New York. He left, how-
ever, some detachments of light troops, and particularly Morgan's dra-
goons, in the lower parts of New Jersey, to take up deserters, and to
repress the incursions of the enemy.
While such were the operations of Washington and of Clinton in
New Jersey, general Gates, with a part of the northern army, had
descended along the banks of the Hudson, in order to disquiet the
English in New York. By this judicious movement, the garrison of
that city, under apprehensions for itself, was prevented from march-
ing to the support of those who were engaged with the enemy in Ne\v
Jersey.
Meanwhile, the British army was arrived, the thirtieth of June, at
Middletown, not far from Sandy Hook. The fleet under lord Howe
was already at anchor there, though ft had been detained a long time
138 THE AMERICAN WAR. BOOK XI.
in the Delaware by calms. Sandy Hook had been in time past a
peninsula, which, forming a point, extended in the mouth of the bay
of New York ; but in the preceding winter it had been disjoined
from the main land by a violent storm and inundation, and converted
into an island. The timely arrival of the fleet delivered the army
from the imminent peril to which it would have been exposed, had it
been unable to pass this new strait. But a bridge of boats was con-
structed with incredible expedition ; and the whole army passed over
the channel into Sandy Hook island, whence it was soon after con-
veyed by the fleet to New York ; ignorant of the extreme danger it
had so narrowly escaped.
The count d'Estaing, with his powerful armament, was at length
arrived in the seas of America. After having made his appearance
upon the coasts of Virginia, he had entered the mouth of the Dela-
ware, in the night of the eighth of July. If he could have gained
that position a few days sooner, and before the fleet of Howe had got
out of the river, or even if he had fallen in with it on its passage from
the Delaware to Sandy Hook, it is beyond doubt that he would have
entirely destroyed that squadron, which only consisted of two ships
of the line, a few frigates, and a certain number of transports. The
British army would then have been inclosed by the Americans at
land, and by the French at sea. Hemmed in by mountains and an
impassable tract of country, it would have found it impossible to force
its way to New York. Destitute of provisions, and cut off from all
communication, it must have been compelled at last to surrender, and
at Middletown would have been renewed the capitulation of Saratoga.
This event might therefore have decided the fate of the whole war.
But after having commenced with favorable winds, the voyage of the
French admiral was so protracted by frequent calms, or by rough
weather, that he not only did not arrive in time to surprise the squad-
ron of Howe in the Delaware, and the army of Clinton at Philadel-
phia, as had been the scope of his plan, but also that he did not
enter the waters of that river until the one was withdrawn to the
anchorage of Sandy Hook, and the other behind the walls of New
York.
But though the land troops might think themselves in safety within
that city, the fleet was exposed to manifest peril in the road of Sandy
Hook. As soon as the count d'Estaing was informed of the move-
ments of the enemy, he promptly took his resolution. He put to sea
anew, and suddenly made his appearance, the eleventh of July, in
sight of the British squadron anchored at Sandy Hook. His own
consisted of twelve ships of the line, perfectly equipped , among which
were two of eighty guns} and six of seventy-four ; he had, besides,
BOOK XI. THE AMERICAN WAR. 139
three or four large frigates. On the other hand, the British squadron
was composed of only six ships of sixty-four guns, three of fifty, and
two of forty, with some frigates and sloops. They were not in good
condition, having been long absent from England, and their crews
were very deficient in number. It is also to be observed, that when
the French fleet appeared so unexpectedly, that of Howe was not
in the order of battle suitable to receive it. If, therefore, the count
d'Estaing, immediately upon his arrival, had pushed forward and
attempted to force the entrance of the harbor, there must have en-
sued, considering the valor and ability of the two parties, a most ob-
stinate and sanguinary engagement ; an engagement, however, which
the superiority of ihe French would in all probability have decided
in their favor.
The count d'Estaing appeared disposed to enter; the English
prepared to receive him. But such is the nature of the mouth of
the bay of New York, that, though sufficiently broad, it is obstruct-
ed by a bar, which runs from Long Island towards Sandy Hook, so
that between the latter and the extremity of the bar, there is left but
a very narrow ship channel. Nevertheless, the bar being at a cer-
tain depth under water, light vessels may pass it with facility, espe-
cially at flood tide ; but it was doubtful whether large ships, like
those of the French, could surmount this obstacle. The count
d'Estaing took counsel of the American pilots, sent him by the con-
gress ; he feared that his ships, and especially the Languedoc and
Tonnant, which drew more water than the others, would not be able
to pass. He therefore relinquished the enterprise, and withdrew to
anchor upon the coast of New Jersey, about four miles from Sandy
Hook, and not far from the town of Shrewsbury. There, having
recruited his water an« * provisions, he concerted with the American
generals respecting the expedition of Rhode Island, which he med-
itated, since he had missed that of the Delaware.
The English imagined that the French admiral was only waiting
in this anchorage for the high tides at the end of July. Under the
apprehension of an approaching attack, they accordingly prepared
themselves for a vigorous defense. The ardor manifested on this
occasion by their troops, both in the land and sea service, cannot
be too highly commended. Meanwhile, several English vessels that
were bound to New York, far from supposing that the French were
become masters of the sea, fell daily into their power, under the very
eyes of their own people of the squadron, whose indignation was
vehement ; but they had no means of remedy.
Finally, on the twenty-second of July, the whole French fleet
appeared at the entrance of Sandy Hook. The wind favored it, and
140 THE AMERICAN WAR. BOOK XI.
the tide was very high. The English expected an action which must
necessarily issue either in a victory without example, or in the total
destruction of their fleet ; but after some uncertain movements, the
count d'Estaing all at once stood off towards the south, and relieved
his enemy from all fear. His departure could not have been better
timed for the English ; for from the twenty-second to the thirtieth
of July, several ships of admiral Byron's squadron, which had been
dispersed and shattered by storms and a tedious passage, arrived
successively at Sandy Hook. If the count d'Estaing had remained
a few days longer on that station, not one of them could have es-
caped him. Of this number were the Renown and the Centurion
of fifty guns, the Reasonable of sixty-four, and the Cornwall of
seventy-four.
Admiral Howe, thus finding himself, with infinite gratification, in
condition to resume the open sea, sailed in search of the count
d'Estaing, whom he afterwards found at Newport in Rhode Island.
But previous to relating what passed between the two admirals,
the order of history requires that we should recount what happened
between the British commissioners and the congress. The former
had not entirely abandoned their enterprise, and they still continued
upon the American continent.
Johnstone, one of their number, had formerly resided a long time
upon the shores of America, where he had formed an acquaintance
with many of the principal inhabitants of the country. He had like-
wise been governor of one of the colonies, where his active and
cultivated genius, with his insinuating manners, had procured him
an extensive influence. Being, besides, a member of parliament,
he had there always warmly defended the cause of America, and
had shown himself one of the most resolute antagonists of the minis-
try. These motives, to which, perhaps, it was owing that he had
been selected for a commissioner, persuaded him that he might suc-
ceed in effecting in America, by his suggestions and a private corre-
spondence, what his colleagues, perchance, could not have obtained
by open negotiations, always subject to the restraints of circumspec-
tion and distrust. He believed, at least, that by enticing the princi-
pal republicans with brilliant prospects of honors and wealth, he should
smooth the difficulties which impeded the operations of the commis-
sioners. It is not known whether he pursued this course of his own
motion, or with the privity, or even by the command of the govern-
ment. Nevertheless, the tenor of the letters he wrote upon this head,
would lead to the belief that the ministers were no strangers to his
designs. In fact, contrary to the uniform practice of those who ex-
ercise a delegated power, he praised the resistance which the Amer-
BOOK XI. THE AMERICAN WABJ. 141
icans had made, up to that time, against the unjust and arrogant
laws of England ; a frankness he would scjltrcely have ventured, if
he had not been guided by the instructions of the ministers. The
style in which he wrote to the most considerable citizens, and even
to the members of congress, would sooner jhave caused him to bo
taken for an agent of that body, than for aib envoy of the British
government. He professed a desire to be admitted into the interior
of the country, and to discourse face to face; with men, whose vir-
tues he admired above those of the Greeks and Romans, in order to
be able to describe them to his children. He affirmed that they had
worthily wielded the pen and the sword in vindicating the rights of
their country, and of the human race ; he overwhelmed them with
protestations of his love and veneration. The congress had some
suspicions, and at last positive knowledge of these intrigues. They
recommended to the different states, and directed the commander-
in-chief, and other officers, to hold a strict hand to the effect that all
correspondence with the enemy should cease. By a subsequent res-
olution, it was ordained that all letters of a public nature received
by any members of congress, from the agents or subjects of the king
of Great Britain, should be laid before that assembly.
Thus became public those letters addressed by Johnstone to three
members of congress, one to Francis Dana, another to general
Reed, and a third to Robert Morris. In the first, he assured that
doctor Franklin had approved the conditions of the arrangement that
was proposed ; that France had been induced to conclude the treaty
of alliance, not from any regard for the interests of America, but
from the dread of reconciliation ; that Spain was dissatisfied, and
disapproved the conduct of the court of Versailles. In the second,
after lavishing praises on general Reed, he continued with saying,
that the man who could be instrumental in restoring harmony be-
tween the two states, would deserve more from the king and people,
than ever was yet bestowed on human kind. In the third, which ne
had also filled with compliments, he admitted that he believed the
men who had conducted the affairs of America incapable of being
influenced by improper motives, and added the following words :
1 but in all such transactions there is risk ; and I think that whoever
ventures, should be secured, at the same time, that honor and emolu-
ment should naturally follow the fortunes of those who have st ^ered
the vessel in the storm, and brought her safely into port. I think
Washington and the president have a right to every favor that grate-
ful nations can bestow, if they could once more unite our interests,
and spare the miseries and devastations of war.' Such were the
baits with which, as the Americans said, George Johnstone attempted
142 THE AMERICAN WAR. BOOK XJ.
the fidelity of the fmrt authorities of the United States ; such
were the words of blandishment he caused to resound in their ears,
in order to seduce them to betray their country. But that which
gave the congress most offense, and which they profited of with the
greatest address to render the British cause and propositions alike
odious to the inhabitants of America, was the following transaction
general Reed stated that a lady had sought him, on the part of John
stone, and had earnestly exhorted him to promote the re-union of the
two countries, promising, in case of success, a reward often thousand
pounds sterling, and any office in the colonies in the king's gift.
The general replied, as he affirmed, that he was not worth purchas-
ing ; but that such as he was, the king of Great Britain was not
rich enough to do it. The congress, in their indignation, declared
that these being direct attempts to corrupt and bribe the congress of
the United States of America, it was incompatible with their honor
to hold any manner of correspondence or intercourse with George
Johnstone ; especially to negotiate with him upon affairs in which
the cau,se of liberty and virtue was interested.
This declaration, which was sent by a flag to the commissioners,
produced a very severe answer from Johnstone, which, if he had
clothed in more moderate language, would have gained him more
credit with his readers. He affected to consider the declaration ol
congress as an honor, and not as a matter of offense ; he observed
that while that assembly only contended for the essential privileges
necessary to the preservation of their liberty and the redress of their
grievances, their censure would have filled his soul with bitterness
anj with grief; but since the congress, deaf to the piteous cries of
so many citizens overwhelmed by the calamities of war, had sullied
bjr motives of personal ambition the principles of their first resistance ;
since he saw them bend the knee before the ambassador of France,
and form alliance with the ancient enemy of the two countries, with
the manifest intention of reducing the pow^r of the mother country,
he was quite unconcerned what might be the opinions of such men
with regard to him. As to the accusations drawn from his letters,
he. neither denied nor confessed. He simply affirmed, that the
present resolution of congress was no better founded than that they
had taken concerning the cartridge-boxes of Burgoyne's army. He
rese- ed, however, the liberty of justifying his conduct, before his
departure from America ; and added, that in the mean time, he
should abstain from acting in the character of a commissioner.
Hi* colleagues, Carlisle, Clinton, and Eden, issued a counter
declaration, wherein they disclaimed all participation and knowledge
of the matters specified by the congress in their resolutions. They
BOOK XI. THE AMERICAN WAR. 143
expres°ed, at the same time, the highest opinion of the abilities of
Johnstone, of the uprightness of his intentions, and of the equity
and generosity of those sentiments and principles upon which he waa
desirous of founding a reconciliation between the disunited parts of
the British empire.
But the design of the commissioners in this declaration was not
so much to exculpate themselves, as to counteract the impression
produced by the treaties with France, and to demonstrate to tlie
people at large that congress had no right to ratify them. They
had placed great hopes in this step. They were not ignorant that
many Americans had abated their ardor, and even conceived a secret
discontent, since the much magnified succor of the count d'Estaing
had proved of so little, or rather of no utility. The commissioners
were also, as usual, stimulated by the refugees, who reminded them
continually of the multitude and power of the loyalists. . They ex-
patiated, therefore, upon the perfidy of France, upon the ambition of
congress, and they exerted themselves, especially, to prove that the
latter, in a case of this importance, where the salvation or the ruin of
all America was at stake, had not, even by their own constitution,
the power to ratify the treaties with France, v/ithout consulting theii
constituents ; at a time, too, when such offers of accommodation
were expected on the part of Great Britain, as not only far exceeded
the demands, but even the hopes of the inhabitants of America.
They concluded with observing, that the faith of the nation was not
pledged by the ratification of congress.
The opposite party wanted not writers who endeavored to defeat
the effect of these insinuations. The most conspicuous among them
were Drayton, already mentioned, and Thomas Paine, author of the
work entitled Common Sense. Whatever were the merits of this
controversy, it is certain that the publications of the commissioners
were absolutely fruitless. Not a proselyte was made.
The British agents, being now persuaded that all hopes of recon-
ciliation were illusory, determined, before their departuie, to publish
a manifesto, in which they threatened the Americans with the ex-
tremes of the most desolating war that man could conceive. They
hoped that terror would produce those effects which their conciliatory
offers had failed of attaining. This plan of hostilities had long been
advocated in England, by the friends of coercion, as the readiest and
most effectual. It would bring, they believed, such distress on the
colonies as would not fail to compel them to submit. They repre-
sented tfce vast continent of America as peculiarly open to incursions
and ravages ; its coasts were of so immense an extent, that they could
not possibly be guarded against an enemy that was master at sea;
J44 THE AMERICAN WAR. BOOK XT.
there were innumerable bays, creeks and inlets, where descents mighl
be made unobstructed- The rivers were such as afforded a naviga-
tion for ships of force far into the interior of the country ; thus it
would be easy to penetrate to most of the towns and settlements,
and to spread destruction into the heart of every province on the
continent.
The commissioners, inclining to adopt these views, commenced
their manifesto with a retrospect of the transactions and conduct of
the congress; charging them with an obstinate rejection of the
proffers of accommodation on the part of Great Britain, and repre-
senting them as unauthorized to exercise the powers they Had as-
sumed. On the other hand, they magnified their own endeavors to
bring about a restoration of peace and happiness to America. They
gave notice, that it was their intention to return shortly to England,
as their stay in a country where their commission had been treated
with so little notice and respect, was inconsistent with the dignity
of the power they represented. They professed, however, the same
readiness as ever to promote the objects of their mission, and to
continue the conciliatory offers that were its principal motive. Final
ly, they solemnly warned the people of the alteration that would be
made in the future method of carrying on the war, should the colo-
nies persist in their resistance to Great Britain, and in their unnatu-
ral connection with France.
' The policy, as well as the benevolence of Great Britain,' said
they, ' has hitherto checked the extremes of war, when they tended
lo distress a people, still considered as fellow-subjects, and to desolate
a country shortly to become again a source of mutual advantage ;
hut when that country not only estranges herself from England, but
mortgages herself and her resources to her enemy, the whole contest
is changed ; and the question is, how far Great Britain may, by every
means in her power, destroy or render useless a connection contrived
for her ruin, and for the aggrandizement of France ? Under such
circumstances, the laws of self-preservation must direct the conduct
of Great Britain ; and if the British colonies are to become an
accession of power to France, will direct her to render that accession
of as little avail as possible to her enemy.'
This manifesto, which was the object of the severest animadver-
sion, and which was even condemned by several orators of parliament,
and particularly by Fox, as cruel and barbarous, produced no greater
effect upon the minds of the Americans than had been operated by
the offers of peace.
The congress immediately issued a proclamation, warning all the
inliabitanU who lived in places exposed to the descents and ravages
BOOK XI. THE AMERICAN WAR. 145
of a ferocious enemy, to remove, on the appearance of dangei, to
the distance of at least thirty miles, together with their families, their
cattle, and all their movable property. But if the measures adopted
by the British commissioners were justly censured, those taken by
the congress are at least by no means to be commended. They rec
ommended, that whenever the enemy proceeded to burn or destroy
any town, the people should, in the same manner, ravage, burn and
destroy the houses and properties of all tories and enemies to the
independence of America, and secure their persons ; without treating
them, however, or their families, with any cruelty ; since the Ameri-
cans should abhor to imitate their adversaries, or the allies they had
subsidized, whether Germans, blacks, or savages.
Such are the excesses to which even the most civilized men are
liable to be transported, when under the pestilent influence of party
spirit. The British threatened to do what they had already done,
and the Americans, the very thing they so justly condemned in their
enemies. But impassioned man is more prone to imitate evil in
others, than dispassionate man to imitate good.
Some time after, lest the extreme rigor of the English declarations
should give birth to new thoughts among the people, the congress
published a manifesto, in which they premised, that since they had
not been able to prevent, they had endeavored, at least, to alleviate
the calamities of war. But they asserted that the conduct of their
enemies had been the very reverse. < They,' said the manifesto,
' have laid waste the open country, burned the defenseless villages,
and butchered the citizens of America. Their prisons have been
the slaughter-houses of her soldiers, their ships of her seamen ; and
the severest injuries have been aggravated by the grossest insults.
Foiled in their vain attempts to subjugate the unconquerable spirit of
freedom, they have meanly assailed the representatives of America
with bribes, with deceit, and the servility of adulation. They have
made a mock of religion by impious appeals to God, while in the
violation of his sacred command. They have made a mock even of
reason itself, by endeavoring to prJp that the liberty and happiness
of America could safely be intrusted to those who liave sold their
own, unawed by the sense of virtue or of shame. Treated with the
contempt which such conduct deserved, they have applied to indi-
viduals. They have solicited them to break the bond^ of allegiance
and imbue their souls with the blackest crimes. But fearing that
none could be found through these United States equal to the wicked-
ness of their purpose, to influence weak minds, they have threatened
more wide devastation.
' While the shadow of hope remained that our enemies could be
VOL. II. 10
146 THE AMERICAN WAR. BOOK XI.
taught by our example to respect those laws which are held sacred
among civilized nations, and to comply with the dictates of a religion
which they pretend, in common with us, to believe and revere, they
have been left to the influence of that religion and that example.
But since their incorrigible dispositions cannot be touched by kind-
ness and compassion, it becomes our duty by other means to vindi-
cate the rights of humanity.
' We, therefore, the congress of the United States of America
do solemnly declare and proclaim, that if our enemies presume to
execute their threats, or persist in their present career of barbarity,
we will take such exemplary vengeance as shall deter others from a
like conduct. We appeal to that God who searcheth the hearts oi
men, for the rectitude of our intentions ; and in his holy presence
declare, that as we are not moved by any light and hasty suggestions
of anger or revenge, so, through every possible change of fortune, we
will adhere to this our determination.'
At the same epoch, the marquis de la Fayette, indignant at the
manner in which the British commissioners had spoken of France in
their letter of the twenty-sixth of August, in attributing her interfer-
ence in the present quarrel to ambition, and to the desire of seeing
the two parties consume each other in a long war, wrote to the earl
of Carlisle, demanding reparation for the insult offered to his country,
and challenging him to single combat.
The earl declined this meeting, saying, that as he had acted on
that occasion in the character of a commissioner, his language and
conduct had been official, and consequently he was accountable for
them to no one except to his king and country. He concluded his
answer with observing, that in regard to national disputes, they would
be better adjusted when admiral Byron and the count d'Estaing
should have met upon the ocean.
A short time after, the commissioners, unable to effect any of the
objects of their mission, embarked for England. All hope from ne-
gotiation being now vanished, every thought was devoted with new
ardor to the way of arms. M Awhile, the congress had returned to
Philadelphia, a few days after the English evacuated that city. On
the sixth of August they received publicly, and with all the ceremo-
nies usual on similar occasions, M. Gerard, minister plenipotentiary
of the king of France. This envoy delivered at first his letters of
credence, which were signed by Louis XVI., and directed to his ver$
dear great friends and allies, the president and members of the gen-
eral Congress of the United States of America. He made a very
apposite speech, in which he set forth the benevolent intentions of
France towards the United States, and the reciprocal obligation of
f
BOOK XI. THE AMERICAN WAR. 147
the two contracting parties to execute the engagements stipulated in
the eventual treaty, in order to defeat the hostile measures and de-
signs of the common enemy. He announced, that on his part, his
most Christian majesty had already sent to their assistance a nume-
rous and powerful fleet. He closed, with expressing a hope that the
principles which might be adopted by the respective governments
would tend to strengthen those bonds of union, which had originated
in the mutual interest of the two nations.
The president, Henry Laurens, answered with much ease and
dignity ; that the present treaties sufficed to demonstrate the wisdom
and magnanimity of the most Christian king ; that the virtuous citi-
zens of America could never cease to acknowledge the hand of a
gracious Providence, in raising them up so powerful and illustrious a
friend. That the congress had no doubt, but that the confidence his
majesty reposed in the firmness of the United States would receive
additional strength from every day's experience. That since Eng-
land, from her insatiable lust of domination, was resolved to prolong
the war, and with it the miseries of mankind, they were determined
to fulfill all the conditions of the eventual treaty, although they had
no more ardent wish than to spare human blood, by laying down at
once their resentments and their arms ; that they hoped the assist-
ance of so wise and generous an ally, would at length open the eyes
of Great Britain, and bring her to a sense of justice and moderation.
The authorities of Pennsylvania, many strangers of note, the officers
of the army, and a great number of distinguished citizens, were pres-
ent at this audience. The public joy was now at its height. All
hearts were filled, not only with the hope of independence, for that
was considered as no longer doubtful, but also with brilliant antici-
pations of future prosperity ; the American empire, with the inter-
ference of France, appeared already established for ever.
Thus a king extended an auxiliary hand to a republic against
another king ! Thus the French nation came to the succor of one
English people against another English people ; thus the European
powers, who until then had acknowledged no other independent
nations in America, except the savages and barbarians, looking upon
all the others as subjects, began to recognize as independent and sov-
ereign a civilized nation, and to form alliance with it, as such, by au-
thentic treaties. An event assuredly worthy to arrest our particular
attention ; since the discovery of America by Columbus, none of
equal or of similar importance had passed before the eyes of men.
Such, in America, were the fruits either of the love of liberty or the
desire of independence. Such were the consequences, in Europe, of
14S THE AMKRICAN WAR. BOOK XI.
a blind obstinacy, or of a pride perhaps necessary on the one part j
of jealousy of power and a thirst of vengeance on the other !
The fourteenth of September, the congress appointed doctor Ben-
jamin Franklin minister plenipotentiary of the United States at the
court of France.
We have already related how, and by what causes, the expedition
of the Delaware, by which the allies had hoped to destroy the Brit-
ish fleet and army at a single blow, had failed to have effect. De-
sirous, therefore, of achieving some other enterprise of importance,
which might both honor their arms, and procure them an essential
advantage, they resolved to direct their operations against Rhode
Island. This expedition offered them greater facilities than any
other ; the situation of places being such that the land troops of the
Americans, and the naval forces of the French, could lend each other
mutual assistance, and bring their joint energies to bear upon the
same point. This design had been concerted between the generals
of congress and d'Estaing, while he lay at anchor off Sandy Hook.
General Sullivan had already been sent into that part, in order to take
the command of the troops destined for the expedition, and in the
meantime to assemble the militia of New England. General Greene
had likewise been directed to proceed to Rhode Island ; born in that
province, he possessed great credit and influence among its inhab-
itants. The general of the British army, having penetrated the de-
sign of the allies, had sent from New York considerable re-inforce-
ments to major-general Pigot, who commanded in Rhode Island,
which carried his garrison to six thousand men. General Sullivan
had established his camp near Providence ; it was composed of about
ten thousand men, including militia. The plan which had been agreed
upon was, that wrjile Sullivan should make a descent upon the island
from the northward. d'Estaing was to force the harbor of Newport
from the south, destroy the British shipping at anchor there, and
assault the town with vigor* The British garrison, thus pressed be-
tween two fires, it was thought, would soon, of necessity, be com-
pelled to surrender.
The state of Rhode Island is principally composed of several ad-
jacent islands, the largest of which gives its name to the whole prov-
ince. Between the eastern coast of this island and the main land,
is an arm of the sea, which, extending considerably towards the north,
expands into the bay of Mount Hope. This arm is denominated
Seaconnet, or the eastern passage. Between Rnode Island and the
island of Conanicut is another very narrow passage, named the Main
Channel. Finally, between the western coast of Conanicut island
n.nd the main land is found a third arm of the sea, known by the
•
BOOK XI. THE AMERICAN WAR. 149
name of the western, or Narraganset passage. The town of New-
port is situated upon the western shore of Rhode Island Proper, op-
posite to the island of Conanicut. At a short distance from the
town, to the northeast, rise a chain of hills which stretch almost across
the island from the eastern passage to the Main Channel. The
English had fortified these heights with much care, in order to cover
the town against an attack from the Americans, who were likely to
approach by the north part of the island*
General Pigot prepared himself for an able and vigorous defense.
He very prudently recalled the garrison of Conanicut island, and
concentrated his forces about Newport. He also withdrew into the
town the artillery and the cattle. The posts that were dispersed in
different parts of the island, and especially the soldiers who occupied
the northern point, were ordered to fall back upon the town as soon
as they should discover the enemy's approach. The part of the town
which looked towards the sea was fortified with extreme diligence ;
vessels of transport were sunk in such places as might obstruct the
approaches by water to the most important batteries ; the rest were
burned. The frigates were removed higher up for safer moorings.
But to provide for the worst, they were stripped of their artillery and
stores. The seamen belonging to the vessels sunk or destroyed, were
employed to serve the artillery of the ramparts ; a service they well
understood, and greatly coveted.
Meanwhile the count d'Estaing, on his departure from Sandy
Hook, after standing to the southward as far as the mouth of the
Delaware, changed his course and bore to the northeast upon Rhode
Island. He arrived the twenty-ninth of July at Point Judith, and
anchored with the most of his ships just without Brenton's Ledge,
about five miles from Newport. Two of his vessels went up the
Narraganset passage-, and cast anchor to the north of Conanicut.
Several frigates entered the Seaconnet passage ; the English on their
approach set fire to a corvette and two armed galleys which had been
stationed there. During several days the French admiral made no
attempt to penetrate the Main Channel, in order to attack the town
of Newport, as it had been concerted with the Americans. This
delay was occasioned by that of the re-inforcements of militia which
general Sullivan expected, and which were deemed essential to the
security of the enterprise. Finally, the eighth of August, all the
preparations being completed, and the wind favorable, the French
squadron entered the harbor of Newport, and coasting the town, dis-
charged their broadsides into it, and received the fire of the batteries
on shore ; but little execution was done on either side. They anchor-
ed a little above the town, between Goats Island and Conanicut, but
150 THE AMERICAN WAR. BOOK XI.
nearest to the "latter, which was already occupied by the Americans.
The English in the meantime, finding they could not save several
frigates and other vessels of less £ rce, concluded to burn them.
The next day, general Sullivan, who had moved from Providence
down to that part of the main land which bears from the east upon
Rhode Island, crossed the Seaconn^t passage at Rowland's Ferry,
and landed with all his troops upon /he north end of the island. It
•appears that this movement was high.'y offensive to the count d'Es-
taing, who expected to have been the first to set foot on shore in the
island. General Sullivan hoped that the attack would now be delay-
ed no longer, when the same day, the ninth of August, signals
announced the whole squadron of lord Howe, who, on receiving
intelligence that Rhode Island was menaced by the French, had
hastened to the succor of general Pigot. Notwithstanding the
re-inforcement he had lately received, he was still inferior to his
enemy, considering the size of his ships, and their weight of metal.
His squadron, though more numerous, consisted of only one ship of
seventy-four, seven of sixty-four, and five of fifty guns, with several
frigates. He hoped, however, that fortune would offer him an occa-
sion to join battle with the advantage of wind, or of some other
circumstances. And certainly if, from the time he had taken the
resolution of moving to the relief of Rhode Island, the winds had
not retarded his progress, he would have arrived at the very moment
when the French squadron was dispersed in the different channels
formed by the adjacent islands ; in which case he would have had
all the chances of victory in his favor. But his passage was so
difficult, that he was unable to arrive till the day after that in which
the count d'Estaing had put himself in safety, with all his fleet, in
the Main Channel.
Having carefully examined, as well the nature of the places, as
the position of the French ships, and having also communicated to
the same end with general Pigot, the British admiral concluded that
there was no hope left him of succoring the town, especially as the
winds continued contrary. The harbor was so situated, the entrance
so narrow, the apparatus of defense on the island of Conanicut so
formidable, that the enterprise could not have been attempted, not
only by an inferior squadron, as was that of Howe, but even by a
greatly superior force, without temerity. For the same cause, if the
French admiral, agreeably to the plan concerted with Sullivan, had
been disposed to persist, and not to quit his station until he had
afforded that general all the co-operation in his power, there is good
reason to believe that the town of Newport would have fallen into
the hands of the allies.
BOOK XI. THE AMERICAN WAR. 151
But the count d'Estaing, like a true Frenchman, full of ardor
and impatience, upon a change of wind to the northeast, in the morn-
ing of the tenth, was seized with an impulse that he could not
master, to profit of this circumstance to sail out of the harbor, in
order to attack the enemy. He accordingly stood out to sea, in
search of the British fleet. Admiral Howe, on seeing so formidable
an armament advance to engage him, and being under the wind,
which gave the French the weathergage, declined coming to action,
and maneuvered with great ability in order to gain that advantage for
himself. A contest ensued for it, which lasted the whole day ; the
French admiral striving to retain it with equal eagerness. The wind
still continuing on the eleventh unfavorable to the British, Howe
resolved, notwithstanding, to meet the enemy. He therefore formed
his squadron so that it could be joined by three fire-ships, which
were towed by the frigates. The French also disposed their ships
in order of battle, and the moment already approached that was to
decide which of the two powerful adversaries should remain master
of the American seas. But at the same instant, a strong gale com-
menced, which, soon after increasing, became a violent storm. The
tempest, which lasted forty-eight hours, not only separated and dis-
persed the two fleets, but did them so much damage, that they were
both rendered unfit for action, and compelled to put into port to
repair. The French squadron suffered even more than the English,
especially in their masts and rigging. The Languedoc, of ninety
guns, the admiral's ship, lost her rudder and all her masts. Float-
ing in this condition, at the mercy of the currents, she was met by
the English ship Renown, of fifty guns, commanded by captain
Dawson, who attacked her with so much vigor and dexterity, that
had not darkness interposed, together with the gale, winch had not
yet sufficiently abated, she must inevitably have struck ; as she
could only use seven or eight of her guns. Some French ships ap-
peared with the return of day. They bore down upon captain Daw-
son, and gave chase, though without being able to come up with
him. But they at least delivered their admiral from the imminent
peril to which they found him exposed.
The same day, the English ship Preston, of fifty guns, fell in with
the Tonnant, of eighty, with only her mainmast standing. He at-
tacked her ; but was compelled, by the coming on of night, to dis-
continue the engagement till next morning, when the appearance oi
several French ships constrained him to withdraw. The British
squadron returned to Sandy Hook and New York, for the purpose
of refitting ; the repairs were pushed with the greatest diligence.
Tte French recovered the harbor of Newport.
J52 THE AMERICAN WAR. BOOK XI.
In the mean time, general Sullivan, though impeded by bad
weather, and other difficulties which had retarded the arrival of his
stores and artillery, had advanced very near to Newport. He already
had occupied Honeymans Hill, and was engaged with great activity
in constructing batteries. The besieged were not wanting to them-
selves ; they erected new fortifications and new batteries, to answer
those of the Americans. But notwithstanding their efforts, if the
count d'Estaing, on returning from his more prejudicial than useful
enterprise upon the sea, had chosen to co-operate with the Ameri-
cans, it is certain, that the position of general Pigot would have been
excessively critical.
Assailed on the one side by the Americans, the English could not
have hoped to defend themselves, if the French, on the other, in
addition to the fire of their ships, had landed, as they easily might
have done, a strong detachment on the southern point of the island,
in order to assault the left flank of the town, which was known to be
the weakest. But the count d'Estaing had very different intentions.
He dispatched a letter to Sullivan, informing him that, in pursuance
of orders from his sovereign, and of the advice of all his officers, he
had taken the resolution to carry the fleet to Boston. His instruc-
tions were, it is true, to sail for that port if his fleet should meet
with any disaster, or if a superior British fleet should appear on the
coast.
The injuries sustained by the storm, and the information which
had been received that Byron had arrived at Halifax, were consid-
ered as producing the state of things contemplated by the instruc-
tions of the ministry. The Americans, convinced that the depart-
ure of the count d'Estaing would be the ruin of the expedition,
added entreaties to remonstrances, in order to dissuade him from so
fatal a measure.
Generals Greene and La Fayette besought him that he would not,
by persisting in his resolution, abandon the interests of the common
cause ; they represented to him the importance, to France, as \\ ell
as America, of the enterprise commenced ; that it was already so
well advanced as to leave no doubt of success ; that it could not be
relinquished in its present stage without shaming and disgusting the
Americans, who, confiding in the promised co-operation of the French
fleet, had undertaken it with alacrity, and made incredible exertions
to provide the requisite stores ; that to be deserted at so critical a
moment would furnish a triumph to the disaffected, who would not
fail to exclaim, that such was French faith, and the fruit of the alli-
ance ; dial ti.e successive miscarriages of the Delaware, of Sandy
Hook, and finally this of Newport, could not but carry to its height
BOOK XI. THE AMERICAN WAR. 153
the exasperation of minds. They added, that with a fleet in so
shattered a condition, it would be very difficult to pass the shoals of
Nantucket ; that it could be repaired more conveniently at Newport
than at Boston ; and finally, that its present station afforded advan-
tages over Boston for distressing the enemy, while in the event of
the arrival of a superior fleet, it would be no more secure at Boston
than at Newport. All was fruitless. The count d'Estaing got
under sail the twenty-second of August, and three days after came
to anchor in the harbor of Boston.
Whatever is to be thought of this resolution of d'Estaing, which,
it appears, was not only approved, but even strenuously recommended
by his council, it is certain that it made a violent impression upon
the minds of the republicans, and excited loud clamors throughout
America. The militia, who with so much zeal had hastened to join
Sullivan in Rhode Island, finding themselves thus deserted by their
allies, immediately disbanded, so that the besiegers were reduced, in
a short time, from about ten thousand men to not more than half that
number, while the force of the enemy consisted of six thousand vet-
erans.
In so abrupt a reverse of fortune, and seeing the allied fleet retire,
while that of the enemy approached, the American general soon
hetermined to fall back upon the main land, and evacuate the island
entirely. He began the twenty-sixth of August to pass his heavy
artillery and baggage towards the northern point of the island, and
on the twenty-ninth he put himself in motion, with all the army.
Though warmly pursued by the English and Hessians, he rejoined
his van without loss. But the enemy coming up in more force, there
ensued a very hot affair in the environs of Quaker Hill, in which
many soldiers fell on both sides. At length, the Americans repulsed
the English with admirable resolution. In the night of the thirtieth,
the corps of Sullivan recovered the main land by the passages of
Bristol and Rowland's Ferry. Such was the issue of an expedition,
undertaken, not only with the fairest prospect of success, but which
had been carried to the very threshold of a brilliant termination.
The American general made his retreat in time ; for the next day
general Clinton arrived with four thousand men and a light squadron,
to the relief of Newport. If the winds had favored him more, or if
general Sullivan had been less prompt to retreat, assailed on the
island by an enemy whose force was double his own, and his way to
the continent intercepted by the English vessels, his position would
have been little less than desperate. His prudence received merited
acknowledgments on the part of congress.
•'•;•:" .»«»' f " ' Y'-Jl-'
|54 THE AMERICAN WAR. BOOK XI.
Admiral Howe, having refitted his ships with astonishing dispatch,
stood out to sea, and sailed towards Boston. He hoped to arrive
there before his adversary, and consequently to intercept his retreat
thither, or at least to attack him in the outer harbor. He arrived,
indeed, on the thirtieth of August, in the bay of Boston. But he
was unable to accomplish either the one or the other of his designs ;
the count d'Estaing was already in port ; and the batteries erected
by the Americans upon the most commanding points of the coast
rendered all attack impracticable. The British admiral, therefore,
returned to New York, where he found a re-inforcement of several
ships, which rendered his fleet superior to that of the French. He
availed himself of this circumstance, and of the permission he had
received some time before, to resign the command to admiral Gam-
bier, until the arrival of admiral Byron upon that station, which
took place the sixteenth of September. Lord Howe soon after re-
turned to England. This illustrious seaman rendered important ser-
vices to his country, in the campaigns of Pennsylvania, New York,
and Rhode Island, services which would have had more brilliant
results, if the ability of the commanders on shore had equaled his
own. Even to say nothing of the activity he displayed in transport-
ing to a distant country so numerous an army as that of his brother
sir William, the talent and firmness with which he surmounted the
obstacles that opposed his entrance into the Delaware, deserve the
highest commendation. When the count d'Estaing made his ap-
pearance with a formidable fleet, and much superior to his own, he
nevertheless prepared to receive him at Sandy Hook ; afterwards
by offering him battle, he baffled his designs against Newport; and
then the French admiral, disabled by the tempest, forced to seek
refuge in the port of Boston, issued no more, except to make the
best of his way to the West Indies ; thus totally abandoning the
execution of the plan concerted by the allies for the campaign of
this year upon the coasts of America. Finding Newport secure,
general Clinton returned to New York. He afterwards detached
general Grey, who was at New London, upon an expedition of much
importance towards the east. Buzzards Bay, and the adjacent
rivers, served as a retreat for a multitude of privateers, the number
and boldness of which occasioned infinite prejudice: to the British
commerce of New York, Long Island, and Rhode Island. Clinton
resolved to chastise an enemy that seemed to defy him, and to put
an end to his maritime excursions. This task was committed to the
charge of general Grey. He arrived with some transports, effected
his landing in the bay, and destroyed about sixty large vessels,
besides a number of small craft. Proceeding then to New Bedford
BOOK XI. THE AMERICAN WAR. 155
and Fair Haven, upon the banks of the river Acushnet, and con-
ducting himself more like a pirate than a real soldier, he destroyed
or burned warehouses of immense value, full of sugar, rum, molasses,
tobacco, drugs and other merchandise. Not content with these
ravages, he passed into the neighboring island, called Martha's Vine-
yard, the soil of which is very fertile, and which served as a refuge
for the most daring cruisers. He levied on the inhabitants a con-
tribution of live stock to the great refreshment of the garrisons of
New York. He carried off, besides, a considerable quantity of arms
and ammunition.
Returned to New York, he soon undertook another expedition,
against the village of Old Tappan, where he surprised a regiment of
American light horse. His conduct on this occasion was not exempt
from the reproach of cruelty. A few days after, the English made
an incursion against Little Egg Harbor, upon the coast of New
Jersey, where they destroyed much shipping, and brought off a
considerable booty. They afterwards attacked by surprise the legion
of Pulaski, and made great slaughter of it. The carnage would
have been still greater, if Pulaski had not come up, with his usual
bravery, at the head of his cavalry. The English re-embarked, and
returned to New York.
It was at this epoch that the French and American generals medi-
tated a new expedition against Canada. Besides the possession of
so important a province, there appeared a possibility of ruining the
British fisheries upon the banks of Newfoundland, and, by reducing
the cities of Quebec and Halifax, of putting an end to the maritime
power of England upon those shores. The French were the princi-
pal movers of this enterprise ; their minister, and d'Estaing, perhaps,
with covert views ; the marquis de la Fayette, whose youth answered
for his ignorance of these political wiles, with frankness, and from
the love of glory. He was to have been employed in the expedition
as one of the first generals. The count d'Estaing published a
manifesto, addressed to the Canadians in the name of his king, in
which, after reminding them of their French origin, their ancient
exploits, and happiness they had enjoyed under the paternal scepter
of the Bourbons, he declared that all the ancient subjects of the king
in North America, who should cease to acknowledge the English
domination, should find safety and protection. But Washington
showed himself opposed to this project, and he developed his motives
to the congress ; his opinion prevailed.
The congress alleged that their finances, their arsenals, their
magazines, their armies, were not in a state to warrant the undertaking
of so vast an enterprise ; and that they should experience too pungent
156 THE AMERICAN WAR. BOOK XI.
regrets to find themselves in the event unable to fulfill their engage-
ments towards their allies. Such was their public language ; but the
truth is, they apprehended a snare, and that the conquest of Canada
would have been made for France, and not for America.
The retreat of the count d'Estaing, at the moment when Newport
was about to fall into the power of the combined armies, had greatly
irritated the minds of the Americans, particularly in the northern prov-
inces. Many began to entertain a loathing towards allies who seemed
to forget all interests except their own. To this motive of aversion
was added the remembrance, still recent, especially with the lowei
classes, of ancient quarrels and national jealousies, which the new
alliance, and the need of French succors, had not sufficed to
obliterate. Washington and other leading Americans endeavored to
appease these discontents, which, they foresaw, might lead to serious
mischief. The count d'Estaing, on his part, was no lew careful,
during his stay in the port of Boston, not only to avoid all occasion of
misunderstanding, but also to conciliate by every means in his power
the affection of his new allies. The conduct of the French officers,
and even of the common sailors, was truly exemplary. This extreme
circumspection, however, did not prevent the occurrence, on the
thirteenth of September, of a violent affray between some Bostonians
and the French. The latter were overpowered by number, and the
chevalier de Saint Sauveur lost his life in it. The selectmen of the
town, to allay the resentment of the French, showed themselves very
solicitous to punish the offenders. They published a reward to
whoever should make known the authors of the tumult. They
declared, at the same time, that the citizens had not been in fault,
but English sailors made prisoners by the cruisers, and deserters
from the army of Burgoyne, who had enlisted in the Boston priva-
teers. Tranquillity was restored. The count d'Estaing, whether
he was satisfied, or that from prudence he chose to appear so, made
no further inquiry into this affair. No offender was discovered. The
government of Massachusetts decreed a monument to be erected to
Saint Sauveur.
The night of the sixth of the same month of September had wit-
nessed a scene far more serious, at Charleston, South Carolina,
between the French and American sailors. It terminated in a formal
battle. The Americans were the first to provoke their allies by
the most reproachful language ; the latter resentfc it. From words
it came to blows ; the French were soon driven out of the city, and
forced to take refuge on board their ships. Thence they fired with
artillery and musketry against the town ; the Americans, on their
part, fired upon the French vessels from the adjoining wharves and
DOOR XI. THK AMERICAN WAR. 157
shore. Many lives were lost on both sides. A reward of a thousand
pounds sterling was promised, but in vain, to whoever should discover
the authors of this broil. The commander-in-chief of the province
exhorted the inhabitants, in a proclamation, to consider the French
as good and faithful allies and friends. There was even a law
passed, about this time, to prevent the recurrence of a similar licen-
tiousness, whether of words or actions. Thus ended the riots of
Boston and of Charleston, which were attributed, if not with truth,
at least with prudence, to British artifice and instigation. For the
chiefs of the American government were not without apprehension
that these animosities might deprive them of their new allies, whose
resolutions, they knew, were not irrevocable.
The savages took a more active part than ever in the campaign of
this year. Though they had been intimidated by the success of
general Gates, and had sent him congratulations for himself and the
United States, the intrigues and presents of the British agents had
not lost their power over them. Moreover, the emigrant colonists,
who had retired among these barbarians, excited them continually
by instigations, which, together with their natural thirst for blood and
pillage, determined them without scruple to make incursions upon
the northern frontiers, where they spread terror and desolation.
The most ruthless chiefs that guided them in these sanguinary expe-
ditions, were colonel Butler, who had already signalized himself in
this war, and a certain Brandt, born of mixed blood, the most fero-
cious being ever produced by human nature, often too prodigal of
similar monsters. They spared neither age, nor sex, nor condition,
nor even their own kindred; every where indiscriminately they carried
devastation and death. The knowledge which the refugees had of
the country, the insulated position of the habitations, scattered here
and there in the wilderness, the distance from the seat of government,
and the necessity of employing the national force in other remote
parts, offered the Indians every facility for executing their enter-
prises, and retiring with impunity. No means had hitherto been
found of repressing the inroads of so cruel an enemy.
But in the midst of this general devastation, there happened an
event which, perhaps, would be found without example in the history
of inhuman men. Inhabitants of Connecticut had planted on the
eastern branch of the Susquehanna, towards the extremity of Penn-
sylvania, and upon the road of Oswego, the settlement of Wyoming.
Populous and flourishing, its prosperity was the subject of admiration.
It consisted of eight townships, each containing a square of five nailes,
beautifully situated on both sides of the river. The mildness of the
climate answered to the fertility of the soil. The inhabitants were
jgg THE AMERICAN WAR. BOOK XI.
strangers alike to excessive wealth, which elates and depraves, and
to poverty, which discourages and degrades. All lived in a happy
mediocrity, frugal of their own, and coveting nothing from others.
Incessantly occupied in rural toils, they avoided idleness, and all the
vices of which it is the source. In a word, this little country pre-
sented in reality the image of those fabulous times which the poets
have described under the name of the Golden Age. But their
domestic felicity was no counterpoise to the zeal with which they
were animated for the common cause ; they took up arms and flew
to succor their country. It is said they had furnished to the army
no less than a thousand soldiers, a number truly prodigious for so
feeble a population, and so happy in their homes. Yet, notwith-
standing the drain of all this vigorous youth, the abundance of
harvests sustained no diminution. Their crowded granaries, and
pastures replenished with fat cattle, offered an exhaustless resource
to the American army.
But neither so many advantages, nor even the retired situation of
these unfortunate colonists, could exempt them from the baneful
influence of party spirit. Although the tories, as they called them,
were not so numerous as the partisans of liberty, yet they challenged
attention by the arrogance of their character and the extent of their
pretensions. Hence, not only families were seen armed against
families, but even sons sided against their fathers, brothers against
brothers, and, at last, wives against husbands. So true it is, that no
virtue is proof against the fanaticism of opinion, and no happiness
against political divisions. The tories were, besides, exasperated at
their losses in the incursions they had made in company with the
savages in the preceding campaign ; but that which envenomed them
the most was, that several individuals of the same party, who, having
quitted their habitations, were come to claim hospitality, then so much
in honor among the Americans, and particularly at Wyoming, had
been arrested as suspected persons, and sent to take their trial in
Connecticut. Others had been expelled from the colony. Thus
hatreds became continually more and more rancorous. The tories
sworo revenge; they coalesced with the Indians. The time was
favorable, as the youth of Wyoming were at the army. In order
the better to secure success, and to surprise their enemies befcre they
should think of standing upon their defense, they resorted to artifice.
They pretended the most friendly dispositions, while they meditated
only war and vengeance.
A few weeks before they purposed to execute their horrible enter-
prise, they sent several messengers, charged with protestations of
their earnest desire to cultivate pfcace. These perfidies lulled the
BOOK XI. THE AMERICAN WAR. 159
inhabitants of Wyoming into a deceitful security, while they procured
the tories and savages the means of concerting with their partisans,
and of observing the immediate state of the colony. Notwithstand-
ing the solemn assurances of the Indians, the colonists, as it often
happens when great calamities are about to fall on a people, seemed
to have a sort of presentiment of their approaching fate. They
wrote to Washington, praying him to send them immediate assist-
ance. Their dispatches did not reach him ; they were intercepted
by the Pennsylvanian loyalists ; and they would, besides, have arrived
too late. The savages had already made their appearance upon the
frontiers of the colony ; the plunder they had made there was of
little importance, but the cruelties they had perpetrated were affright-
ful ; the mournful prelude of those more terrible scenes which were
shortly to follow !
About the commencement of the month of July, the Indians sud-
denly appeared in force upon the banks of the Susquehanna. They
were headed by the John Butler and Brandt already named, with
other chiefs of their nation, distinguished by their extreme ferocity
in the preceding expeditions. This troop amounted in all to sixteen
hundred men, of whom less than a fourth were Indians, and the rest
tories, disguised and painted to resemble them. The officers, how-
ever, wore the uniforms of their rank, and had the appearance of
regulars. The colonists of Wyoming, rinding their friends so remote,
and their enemies so near, had constructed for their security four
forts, in which, and upon different points of the frontier, they had
distributed about five hundred men. The whole colony was placed
under the command of Zebulon Butler, cousin of John, a man, who
with some courage was totally devoid of capacity. He was even
accused of treachery ; but this imputation is not proved. It is at
least certain that one of the forts which stood nearest to the frontiers,
was intrusted to soldiers infected with the opinions of the tories, and
who gave it up, without resistance, at the first approach of the enemy.
The second, on being vigorously assaulted, surrendered at discretion.
The savages spared, it is true, the women and children, but butchered
all the rest without exception. Zebulon then withdrew, with all hia
people, into the principal fort, called Kingston. The old men, the
women, the children, the sick, in a word, all that were unable to bear
arms, repaired thither in throngs, and uttering lamentable cries, as to
the last refuge where any hope of safety remained. The position
was susceptible of defense ; and if Zebulon had held firm, he might
have hoped to withstand the enemy until the arrival of succors.
But John Butler was lavish of promises, in order to draw him out,
in which he succeeded, by porsuading him that if he would consent
160 TI1E AMERICAN WAR. BOOK XI.
to a parley in the open field, the siege would soon be raised and
every thing accommodated. John retired, in fact, with all his corps ;
Zebulon afterwards marched out to the place appointed for the con-
ference, at a considerable distance from the fort ; from motives of
caution, he took with him four hundred men well armed, being nearly
the whole strength of his garrison. If this step was not dictated by
treachery, it must, at least, be attributed to a very strange simplicity.
Having come to the spot agreed on, Zebulon found no living being
there. Reluctant to return without an interview, he advanced toward?
the foot of a mountain, at a still greater distance from the fort, hoping
he might there find some person to confer with. The farther he
proceeded in this dismal solitude, the more he had occasion to remark
that no token appeared of the presence or vicinity of human crea-
tures. But far from halting, as if impelled by an irresistible destiny,
he continued his march. The country, meanwhile, began to be
overshaded by thick forests ; at length, in a winding path, he per-
ceived a flag, which seemed to wave him on. The individual who
bore it, as ff afraid of treachery from his side, retired as he ad-
vanced, still making the same signals. But already the Indians,
who knew the country, profiting of the obscurity of the woods, had
completely surrounded him. The unfortunate American, without
suspicion of the peril he was in, continued to press forward in order
to assure the traitors that he would not betray them. He was
awakened but too soon from this dream of security ; in an instant
the savages sprung from their ambush, and fell upon him with hid-
eous yells.
He formed his little troop into a compact column, and showed
more presence of mind in danger than he had manifested in 'the
negotiation. Though surprised, the Americans exhibited such vig-
or and resolution that the advantage was rather on their side, when
a soldier, either through treachery or cowardice, cried out aloud,
'The colonel has ordered a retreat.' The Americans immediately
break, the savages leap in among the ranks, and a horrible carnage
ensues. The fugitives fall by missiles, the resisting by clubs and
tomahawks. The wounded overturn those that are not, the dead
and the dying are heaped together promiscuously. Happy those
who expire the soonest ! The savages reserve the living for tor-
tures ! and the infuriate tories, if other arms fail them, mangle the
prisoners with their nails ! Never was rout so deplorable ; never
was massacre accompanied with so many horrors. Nearly all the
Americans perished ; about sixty escaped from the butchery, and
with Zebulon, made their way good to a redoubt upon the other
bank of the Susquehanna.
BOOK XI. THE AMERICAN WAR. 161
The conquerors invested Kingston anew, and to dismay the relics
of the garrison by the most execrable spectacle, they hurled into the
place above two hundred scalps, still reeking with the blood of then
slaughtered brethren. Colonel Dennison, who commanded the fort,
seeing the impossibility of defense, sent out a flag to inquire of
Butler what terms would be allowed the garrison, on surrendering
the fort ? He answered, with all the fellness of his inhuman charac-
ter, and in a single word — the hatchet. Reduced to this dreadful
extremity, the colonel still made what resistance he could. At length,
having lost almost all his soldiers, he surrendered at discretion. The
savages entered the fort, and began to drag out the vanquished, who,
knowing the hands they were in, expected no mercy. But impa-
tient of the tedious process of murder in detail, the barbarians after-
wards bethought themselves of enclosing the men, women, and
children promiscuously in the houses and barracks, to which they
set fire and consumed all within, listening, delighted, to the moans
and shrieks of the expiring multitude.
The fort of Wilkesbarre still remained in the power of the colo-
nists of Wyoming. The victors presented themselves before it;
those within, hoping to find mercy, surrendered at discretion, and
without resistance. But if opposition exasperated these ferocious
men, or rather these tigers, insatiable of human blood, submission
did not soften them. Their rage was principally exercised upon the
soldiers of the garrison ; all of whom they put to death, with a bar-
barity ingenious in tortures. As for the rest, men, women, and chil-
dren, who appeared to them not to merit any special attention, they
burned them as before, in the houses and barracks. The forts being
fallen into their hands, the barbarians proceeded, without obstacle, to
the devastation of the country. They employed at once, fire, sword,
and all instruments of destruction. The crops of every description
were consigned to the flames. The habitations, granaries, and other
constructions, the fruit of years of human industry, sunk in ruin
under the destructive strokes of these cannibals. But who will
believe that their fury, not yet satiated upon human creatures, was
also wreaked upon the very beasts ? That they cut out the tongues
of the horses and cattle, and left them to wander in the midst of
those fields lately so luxuriant, and now in desolation, seeming to
enjoy the torments of their lingering death ?
We have long hesitated whether we ought to relate particular in-
stances of this demoniac cruelty ; the bare remembrance of them
makes us shudder. But on reflecting that these examples may
Jeter good princes from war, and citizens from civil discord, we
have deemed it useful to record them. Captain Bedlock having
VOL. ii 11
162 THE AMERICAN WAR. BOOK XI.
been stripped naked, the savages stuck sharp pine splinters into all
parts of his body ; and then a heap of knots of the same wood being
piled round him, the whole was set on fire, and his two companions,
the captains Ranson and Durgee, thrown alive into the flames. The
tories appeared to vie with, and even to surpass, the savages in bar-
barity. One of them, whose mother had married a second husband,
butchered her with his own hand, and afterwards massacred his
father-in-law, his own sisters, and their infants in the cradle. Anoth-
er killed his own father, and exterminated all his family. A third
imbrued his hands in the blood of his brothers, his sisters, his
brother-in-law, and his father-in-law.
These were a part only of the horrors perpetrated by the loyalists
and Indians, at the excision of Wyoming. Other atrocities, if pos-
sible, still more abominable, we leave in silence.
Those who had survived the massacres were no less worthy of
commiseration ; they were women and children, who had escaped
to the woods at the time their husbands and fathers expired under
the blow s of the barbarians. Dispersed and wandering in the forests,
as chance and fear directed their steps, without clothes, without food,
without guide, these defenseless fugitives suffered every degree of
distress. Several of the women were delivered alone in the woods,
at a great distance from every possibility of relief. The most robust
and resolute alone escaped ; the others perished ; their bodies and
those of their hapless infants became the prey of wild beasts. Thus
the most flourishing colony then existing in America was totally
erased.
The destruction of Wyoming, and the cruelties which accompa-
nied it, filled all the inhabitants of America with horror, with com-
passion, and with indignant fury. They fully purposed, on a future
day, to exact a condign vengeance ; but in the present state of the
war, it was not in their power to execute their intent immediately.
They undertook, however, this year, some expeditions against the
Indians. Without being of decisive importance, they deserve to be
remarked for the courage and ability with which they were exe-
cuted. Colonel Clarke, at the head of a strong detachment, marched
from Virginia against the settlements established by the Canadians
on the upper Mississippi, in the country of the Illinois.
He purposed, also, to chastise, even in their most sequestered
receptacles, this ruthless race. Having descended the Ohio, he
directed his march northward, towards Kaskaskias, the principal
village of the Canadian establishments. The republicans came upon
the inhabitants in sleep, and met with very little resistance. They
afterwards scoured the adjacent country, and seized other places of
BOOK XI. THE AMERICAN WAR 163
the settlement. Filled with dismay, the inhabitants hastened to
swear allegiance to the United States. Thence, colonel Clarke
marched against the barbarian tribes ; he penetrated into their
inmost retreats and most secret recesses, and put all to sword
and fire.
The savages experienced in their own huts and families those
calamities which they had so frequently carried home to others.
This castigation rendered them, for a while, more timid in their
excursions, and encouraged the Americans to defend them-
selves.
A similar expedition was undertaken, some time after, by another
colonel Butler^ against the tories and Indians of the banks of the
Susquehanna ; the same who had been the authors of the rum of
Wyoming. He ravaged and burned several villages ; the houses,
barns, harvests, mills, every thing was laid in ashes and desolation.
The inhabitants had been apprised in season, and had made their
escape, else they would doubtless have paid dearly for Wyoming.
The Americans, having accomplished their object, reaped within their
limits, but not without having encountered excessive fatigues and no
little peril. Thus terminated the Indian war of this year. The
republicans had not only to combat the English in front, and to repel
the savages and refugees who assailed them in rear ; they were also
not a little infested by the disaffected within the country. Of this
class none were more animated than the Quakers. At first, they
had embraced, or at least appeared to embrace, the principles of the
revolution, and even stili there existed among them several of the
most distinguished patriots, such as generals Greene and Mifflin.
Nevertheless, the greater number inclined for England, whether
because they were weary of the length of the war, or that they had
merely desired the reformation of the laws, and not independence.
Perhaps, too, they had persuaded themselves, that after the conquest
of Philadelphia, all America would be reduced, without difficulty,
and that therefore it was useful to their interests to appease the
victor by a prompt submission, in order to obtain favors from the
British government, which would be refused to the more obstinate.
They at least showed themselves forward to serve the English, as
guides and as spies. Several of them, as we have related, had been
sent out of the state, or imprisoned. Some had even suffered at
Philadelphia the penalties denounced against those who conspired
against liberty, and held correspondence with the enemy. The
republicans hoped, by these examples, to cure the restless spirit ol
the opposite party. The efforts of the discontented were not, how-
ever, greatly to be feared ; the- open assurance and consent of tho
164 THE AMERICAN WAR. BOOK Xf.
friends of the revolution easily triumphed over the secret artifices of
their adversaries.
In the meantime, the marquis de la Fayette, desiring to serve his
king in the war, which he doubted not was about to break out in
Europe, and hoping also to promote by his representations the cause
of the United States with the French government, requested of con-
gress permission to repass the Atlantic.
Washington, who bore him a sincere affection, and who considered,
besides, the importance of his name, was desirous that only a tempo-
rary leave might be granted him, without the discontinuance of his
appointments. He wrote to congress, accordingly, and they readily
acceded to his views ; they, moreover, addressed a letter to the mar-
quis, returning him their thanks for the disinterested zeal which led
him to America, and for the services he had rendered to the United
States, by the exertion of his courage and abilities on so many signal
occasions. They also directed doctor Franklin to present him with
a sword decorated with devices commemorative of his achievements.
Finally, they ^l^bomrnended him strongly to the most Christian king.
The marquis de la Fayette took leave of congress, and sailed for
Europe, with the intention of returning as soon as possible. On his
arrival in France, he was received equally well by the king and by
the people. Franklin delivered him the sword, engraved with the
emblems of his brilliant exploits. He was represented wounding the
British lion, and receiving a branch of laurel from the hands of Amer-
ica, released from her chains. America herself was figured by a
crescent, with these words ; Crescam, ut prostm. On the other side
was inscribed, Cur non ? the motto which M. de la Fayette had
chosen at his departure from France. This masterpiece of art ap-
peared a recompense worthy of the valiant defender of America.
The count d'Estaing still lay at anchor in the harbor of Boston,
where he was occupied in victualing his fleet. This operation would
have been of very difficult accomplishment, from the scarcity of wheat
experienced by the northern colonies, since the interruption of their
commerce with those of the south, if the privateers of New England
Mad not made so considerable a number of prizes, that not only the
fieetjbutalso the inhabitants of Massachusetts and Connecticut, were
thereby abundantly supplied. Admiral Byron was no sooner arrived
at New York, than he applied himself with the utmost diligence to
refitting his ships, in order to resume the sea. The moment he was
prepared for it. he got under sail, and stood for Boston, for the pur-
pose of observing the motions of the French squadron . But the ad-
verse fortune which attended him from Europe to America, seemed
still to pursue him on these shnfles. A furious tempest having
BOOK XI. THE AMERICAN WAR. 165
driven him off the coast, his ships were again so damaged and shat-
tered, that he was constrained to take shelter in Rhode Island. The
count d'Estaing embraced this opportunity of quitting the harbor of
Boston unmolested, and sailed the third of November for the West
Indies ; where he was called by the orders of his sovereign, and the
events of the war. The English well knowing his designs, and the
weakness of the garrisons in the islands of their dependency, com-
modore Hotham departed the same day from Sandy Hook, and also
shaped his course for the West Indies, with six ships of war. They
had on board five thousand land troops, commanded by major-gen-
eral Grant. Admiral Byron followed him the fourteenth of Decem-
ber, with all his fleet.
About the same time colonel Campbell embarked at New York,
with a strong corps of English and Germans, upon an expedition
against Georgia. He was convoyed by commodore Hyde Parker,
with a squadron of a few ships. Thus the theater of the war, after
several campaigns in the provinces of the north and of the centei,
was all at once transported into the islands and states, of the south.
END OP BOOK ELEVENTH.
166 THE AMERICAN WAR. BOOK XII.
BOOK TWELFTH.
1778. D' ESTAING and Hotham were not yet arrived in the
West Indies, when commodore Evans had made a descent upon the
two islands of St. Pierre and Miquelon, both very favorably situated
for the fishery of Newfoundland. Being almost without defense, he
occupied them easily ; and, as if he had wished to efface every ves-
tige of the French domination, he imitated the conduct of barbarians,
and utterly destroyed the habitations, storehouses, and scaffoldings
which had been constructed for the use of the fishery. He after-
wards embarked all the inhabitants, who, with the garrisons, amount-
ed to two thousand souls, and sent them to Europe.
The French made themselves ample amends for this loss, by seiz-
ing, as they did soon after, the island of Dominica ; which, being
situated between Guadaloupe and Martinico, was of the last conse-
quence to the future operations in that part. Of this the British
government was not ignorant, and therefore had fortified it with dil-
igence, and furnished it with a formidable artillery. But neither the
garrison nor the munitions corresponded to the importance of its lo-
cal position ; the public magazines were nearly empty, and all the
soldiers in the island scarcely amounted to five hundred ; the great-
er part militia. For a long time, the members of the opposition in
parliament, and the merchants of London, had complained aloud that
the islands of the West Indies were left without sufficient garrisons,
and, as it were, abandoned to the discretion of the enemy. But all
these remonstrances had been vain ; whether the war of America
had absorbed all the cares of the ministers, or that it had deprived
them of the means of sending troops into those islands. The French,
on the contrary, were in such force in their colonies, as to be in a
condition not only to defend themselves, but also to attack their neigh-
bors. Moreover, they had been the first to receive the news of the
declaration of war in Europe. The English frigates dispatched to
announce it, had fallen into the power of the French, upon the coasts
of St. Domingo ; so that admiral Barrington, who was stationed at
Barbadoes with two ships of the line and two frigates, was first
informed of the state of affairs from the manifesto published at Mar-
tinico, by the marquis de Bouille, governor of that island. The
capture of the frigates had likewise apprised him that war was not
only declared but commenced. This admiral showed himself very
undecided with respect to the course he had to pursue ; not having
BOOK XII. THE AMERICAN WAR. 167
new instructions, he felt bound to adhere to the old, which required
him to continue in the station of Barbadoes.
The marquis de Bouille, an active man, and prompt in taking his
resolutions, willing to avail himself of the uncertainty and weakness
of the English, determined to commence his operations with an
enterprise of importance. Having embarked with two thousand land
troops in eighteen transports, under convoy of the frigates Tourterelle,
Diligente, and Amphitrite, he arrived at the island of Dominica, the
seventh of September, about daybreak. He immediately put all his
forces on shore. M. de Fonteneau, protected by the fire of the
Diligente, pushed forward to fort Cachac, and seized it without
resistance. The English cannonaded briskly from fort Roseau, and
the battery of Lubieres. .Nevertheless, M. de la Chaise, at the head
of the rangers of the Auxerrese regiment, advanced impetuously up
to the battery ; the French soldiers entered by the embrasures, and
grappling the mouths of the cannon, made themselves masters of them.
During this time, the viscount de Damas had gained the heights
which commanded fort Roseau, and the marquis de Bouille, with
the main body of his troops, had entered the suburbs. The frigate
Tourterelle also battered the fort on her part ; the English, however,
defended themselves with vigor. But at length, governor Stuart,
seeing his forces so inferior, and the French about to scale for the
assault, demanded to capitulate. The marquis de Bouille, whether
with intent to engage by his moderation the governors of other Eng-
lish islands to surrender more easily, or because he feared the arrival
of Barrington, who was very near, or, as it should be presumed,
merely consulting the generosity of his own character, granted the
most honorable conditions to the enemy. The garrison were treated
with all the honors of war, and the inhabitants secured in the posses-
sion of all their property ; no change was to be made in the laws or
the administration of justice. If, at the termination of the war, the
island should be ceded to France, they were to have the option of
retaining their present system of government, or of conforming to that
established in the French islands. They were also to be at liberty, in
such case, to retire with all their property, wherever they might see
fit ; those who should remain, were not to be bound to any duty to
the king of France, more than what they had owed to their natural
sovereign.
The French found on the fortifications and in the magazines an
hundred and sixty-four pieces of excellent cannon, and twenty-four
mortars, besides a certain quantity of military stores. The privateers
that were found in the ports of the island, were either destroyed or
carried away. The capitulation was observed with the strictest fidel-
168 THE AMERICAN WAR. BOOK XII.
ity ; no kind of plunder or irregularity was permitted. As a recom-
pense for their services upon this occasion, the general distributed
Among his soldiers a pecuniary gratification. He remained but a
short time at Dominica, and having left the marquis Duchilleau for
governor, with a garrison of fifteen hundred men, he returned to Mar-
tinico. But if the moderation and generosity of the marquis de
Bouille were deserving of the highest encomium, the conduct of
Duchilleau was no less memorable for its violence and inhumanity.
He countenanced the unbridled licentiousness of his troops, and thus
abandoned, as it were, the vanquished to the discretion of the victors.
Such are the deplorable effects of national hatred ! The inhabitants
of Dominica were not delivered from the rigorous domination of
Duchilleau until peace was re-established between the two states.
As soon as he was informed of the attack upon Dominica, admi-
ral Barrington, deeming the importance of the occurrence as para
mount to his instructions, sailed with all possible speed to its assist-
ance, in order, if not too late, to frustrate the attempt of the enemy.
But he did not arrive until the marquis de Bouille was already in
safety under the cannon of Martinico. His presence, however, contrib-
uted much to re-assure the inhabitants of the neighboring English
islands, whom the fate of Dominica and their own defenseless con
dition had filled with consternation.
But this expedition was only the prelude to more important events,
which succeeded soon after. The count d'Estaingand commodore
Hotham had taken their departure for the West Indies, as we have
related, on the same day ; the first for Martinico, the second for
Barbadoes. The two fleets sailed in a parallel direction during great
part of the voyage, and very near each other, but without knowing
any thing of their proximity ; the English, however, suspecting the
danger, were extremely careful to keep their squadron as close and
collected as possible. If it consisted of smaller vessels than those
of the French, it was also much moje numerous. The count
d'Estaing, if he had been at all aware of the real state of things, might
have profited of his great superiority to overwhelm the British fleet,
and especially its numerous vessels of transport, which curried out
the land forces, wherein consisted the only means of preserving to
the British crown its rich possessions in those seas. A violent storm,
however, having dispersed the two fleets, three English vessels fell
in with those of the French, and were taken. This incident apprised
d'Estaing of what had fallen out ; but from the dispersion of his
squadron he was unable to give chase. He determined, nevertheless,
to change his course ; and, instead of continuing to stand for Martinico,
he steered in the direction of Antigua, under the persuasion that the
BOOK XII. THE AMERICAN WAR. 169
British were bound for that island, and not to Barbadoes. He hoped
to be able to arrive there before they were landed, or even anchored
in the ports, and consequently to prostrate at a single blow their
whole force by sea and land. This stroke would have been almost
without remedy for England ; so complete a victory would have en-
abled the count d'Estaing to annihilate her domination in the West
Indies. But fortune had decided, otherwise. The English shaped
their course directly for Barbadoes, and reached it safely the tenth of
December. Hotham there made his junction with Barrington, who
was already returned.
The French admiral, having arrived very promptly in the waters
of Antigua, remained cruising there for several days ; but at length,
not seeing the enemy appear, and concluding that they had taken
another direction, he changed his own, and stood for Martinico.
The English generals, having no suspicion of the vicinity of so
formidable an enemy, determined without delay to attack St. Lucia.
Its position in the front of Martinico, its natural strength, and its
works, rendered this post of extreme importance for the operations
of the war. Admiral Barrington, having taken on board his squad-
ron a corps of four thousand selected troops, sailed for St. Lucia, and
arrived there the thirteenth of December. General Meadows land-
ed at the head of a strong detachment, and advanced with celerity
to gain the heights which command the north shore of the bay oi
Grand Cul de Sac. They were occupied by the chevalier de Micou,
the commandant of the island, with some few regulars, and the mili-
tia of the country. He made the most of a few pieces of artillery
to annoy the debarkation of the English, and their march towards
the hills. But unable with so small a force to prolong the valiant
resistance he opposed at first, he fell back upon the capital, called
Morne Fortune. The English took possession of the heights. At
the same time, general Prescott had landed with five regiments, and
had occupied all the positions contiguous to the bay. The next
morning, Meadows forming the van and Prescott the rear, the Eng-
lish marched against the town of Morne Fortune. Overpowered by
number, the chevalier Micou was forced to abandon it tc the enemy.
He retired into the more rough and difficult parts of the island, whero
he was also protected by his artillery. As fast as he fell back, Pres
cott took care to occupy the posts with troops and artillery. Bui
general Meadows thought it essential to make himself master of Ca-
reenage harbor, situated three miles to the north of Grand Cul de
Sac bay ; the French might, in fact, have landed succors there, and
attacked the British in flank. In defiance of the difficulty of the
places, and the heat of a burning sun, he pressed forward to seize
170 THE AMERICAN WAR. BOOK XII.
the height called de la Vierge, which rises on the north side of Ca-
reenage harbor, and completely commands its entrance. Another
detachment occupied the south point of the harbor, and erected a
battery upon it. General Calder, with the rest of the troops, took
position on the south side of Grand Cul de Sac bay, so that from
this point to the northern shore of the Careenage, all the posts fell
into the power of the English. The squadron of Barrington lay at
anchor in Grand Cul de Sac bay, his vessels of war at the entrance,
and those of transport within. The chevalier de Micou continued
still to occupy a very strong fort upon the crest of the mountains.
The English might already consider themselves as sure of success,
and the French had no hope left but in the immediate succor of the
count d'Estaing, when this admiral all at once appeared in view of
the island, with his original squadron of twelve sail of the line, ac-
companied by a numerous fleet of frigates, privateers, and transports,
which brought a land force of nine thousand men. He had received
early intelligence of the attack on St. Lucia ; an event which he
considered as the most fortunate that could have happened, it seem-
ing to afford the means of destroying at a single blow, and from his
great superiority almost without risk, the British power in the West
Indies. Accordingly, he had not delayed a moment to embark, in
order to pounce*, upon an enemy that did not expect him. And in
truth, if he '.ad arrived twenty-four hours sooner, his hopes must
have been realized. But the English were already in possession of
the principal posts, and had fortified themselves therein ; moreover,
the day was far advanced, when the French armament appeared ;
it was necessary to defer the attack until the ensuing morning. Ad-
miral Barrington profited of the night, to make his dispositions for
sustaining it. He caused the transports to be removed into the bot-
tom of the Grand Cul de Sac, to be as remote from danger as pos-
sible ; the ships of war he placed in their respective stations, so as to
form a line across its entrance, and repel the efforts of the enemy to
the most advantage. His force consisted only of his own ship, the
Prince of Wales, of seventy-four guns, the Boyne, of seventy, St.
Albans and Nonesuch, of sixty-four, the Centurion and Isis, of fifty
each, and three frigates.
The count d'Estaing, not mistrusting that Careenage harbor was
already occupied by thqyenemy, stood in for it with his whole fleet,
on the morning of the fifteenth. His purpose was to take land thifre,
r4nd hasten to attack the right flank of the English, who, as he had
observed himself, occupied the Grand Cul de Sac. But no sooner
had he presented himself before the entrance of the Careenage than
the English batteries erected upon the two points, opened a heavy
BOOK Xn. THE AMERICAN WAK. 171
fire, which damaged several of his vessels, and particularly his own
ship, the Languedoc. Convinced of the impossibility of operating a
descent in this part, he bore down, with ten sail of the line, on the
British admiral, with intent to force the passage, and penetrate into
the bay, which must have proved the utter ruin of the English. A
warm engagement ensued ; but, supported by the batteries from the
shore, the British valiantly sustained the attack of an enemy so
superior. D'Estaing drew off a little ; but, towards evening, he
renewed the battle with twelve ships. His efforts were still more
impetuous ; he directed the fire of his artillery principally against
the left of the British line. But neither the re-inforcement he had
received, nor the singular firmness and gallantry displayed by all his
people, were capable of rendering this attack more successful than
the former. The English made so vigorous and so well supported a
defense, that d'Estaing was again compelled to retire, with his ships
severely damaged, and in no little confusion. Admiral Barrington
acquired imperishable glory ; he secured to his country the possession
of an island which, only twenty-four hours after its conquest, had
been upon the point of falling anew under the dominion of its ancient
masters. But d'Estaing, finding that fortune was disposed to frown
on his maritime attacks, resorted to his land forces, which were very
considerable. Accordingly, in the night of the sixteenth and the
following morning, he landed his troops in Choc bay, which lies
between Gros islet and the Careenage. His intention was to attack
general Meadows, who, with a corps of thirteen hundred men, was
encamped in the little peninsula de la Vierge, situated between the
Careenage and the above named Choc bay. He had great hopes
of being able to surprise and cut him off entirely, as well by reason
of the difficulty of the places which separated this corps from all the
others, as from the diversions which he proposed to make by threat-
ening several points at once. In pursuance of this plan, he advanced
from Choc bay towards the peninsula, with five thousand of his best
troops, in order to attack the lines of Meadows, which were drawn
across the isthmus that joins it to the main land. He had formed
three columns ; the right was commanded by himself, the center by
the count de Loewendal, and the left by Ujje marquis de Bouillc.
The French moved at first with admiraBe order; but as they
approached, their position became extreMly critical. They found
tMlmselves severely enfiladed by the aralery of Morne Fortune,
which the chevalier de Micou, on evacuating that fort, had neglected
to spike. But notwithstanding this impediment, they rushed on to
the charge with incredible impetuosity. The English expected their
approach with equal coolness ; they suffered them to advance to the
172 THE AMERICAN WAB. BOOK XII.
intrenchments without opposition ; when, after firing once, they
received them on the bayonet. That fire had, of course, a dreadful
effect ; but the French, notwithstanding, supported the conflict with
undaunted resolution. Already seventy of them had leapt within
the intrenchment, where they acquitted themselves strenuously;
but the English enveloped them, and soon they were all victims of
their temerity. Nevertheless, the assailants recovered their breath,
and returned to the charge with no less eagerness and fury than at
first. The English encountered them with the same intrepidity, and
a second time compelled them to withdraw. But d'Estaing, in the
transport of his ardor, unable to endure that so feeble a detachment
should baffle the efforts of his numerous veterans, ordered a third
attack. He was promptly obeyed. But the soldiers, being much
exhausted by their exertions in the first two, no longer displayed the
same vigor. They were totally broken, and obliged to retreat, leaving
their dead and wounded in the power of the victors. It was, how-
ever, agreed soon after, that the French should be permitted to bury
the one, and to carry off the other ; d'Estaing having rendered
himself accountable for the wounded as prisoners of war. General
Meadows manifested, in this affair, equal ability and valor ; though
wounded in the very commencement of the action, no persuasions
could induce him to quit the field until it was decided. The loss of
the French was serious. Four hundred were killed on the spot;
five hundred were so severely wounded as to be rendered incapable
of service ; five hundred others were wounded slightly. The loss of
the English, in consequence of the advantage of their position, was
inconsiderable. The count d'Estaing left his troops on shore still,
for several days after the battle ; during this time he continued
standing off and on with his fleet, in sight of the island, hoping that
some occasion might present itself of operating more effectively. But
at length he embarked his troops, in the night of the twenty-eighth,
and sailed to Martinico the following day, having abandoned the
enterprise of St. Vincent and Grenada, which islands he had pur-
posed to attack. The day after his departure, the chevalier de
Micou capitulated ; his garrison consisted of only an hundred men.
He obtained the most favorable conditions. He marched out with
all the honors of war ; np soldiers retained their baggage, but not
their arms. The inhabjimts, and especially the curates, were pro-
tected in their persons, J^^erty, and religion. They were to p%y
to the king of Great Britain the same taxes only, that they were
accustomed to pay to the king of France ; finally, they were not to
be compelled to bear arms a^airvst their late sovereign.
BOOK XII. THE AMERICAN WAR 173
The English found in the forts fifty-nine pieces of cannon, a great
number of muskets, and an immense quantity of military stores.
Thus fell into the power of the English the island of St. Lucia ; it
was an acquisition of extreme importance to them. They made of
it a place of arms for all their forces in the West Indies, and the
repository of all theii muru^ons. From its proximity te M artinico,
they were enabled, without risk, to watch all the movements of the
French in the bay of Fort Royal, and to intercept the re-inforce-
ments and convoys that, might approach it by the channel of St.
Lucia. They strengthened it with many new works, and constantly
maintained in it o numerous garrison, notwithstanding the great loss
of men it cost them from the insalubrity of the climate.
A few days after the retreat of the count d'Estaing, admiral Byron
arrived in that part with nine sail of the line, and came to anchor at
St. Lucia.
There resulted from it a sort of tacit truce between the two
parties ; the English having too decided a superiority of naval, and
the French of land forces. This armistice, which lasted five months,
\vas not interrupted until the squadron of commodore Rawley had
joined the fleet of Byron, and the count d'Estaing had been re-iii-
forced by that of the chevalier de la Motte Piquet, and of the count
de Grasse. These several re-inforcements were dispatched from
Europe to the West Indies about the close of the year ; the two
governments having reflected at the same time how important it was
to have formidable maritime forces in the midst of these rich islands,
situated at little distance one from the other, and intermingled, as it
were, with those of the enemy.
It is time to return upon the American continent. The British
ministers and generals had taken the determination to direct their
greatest efforts towards the southern parts of the confederation.
Under the persuasion that the inhabitants of these provinces sup-
ported with repugnance the yoke of the republicans, they hoped tc
find in the loyalists an efficacious co-operation for the re-establish-
ment of the royal authority. Other, and no less powerful motives,
conduced to decide them for this expeditioA. The provinces of the
south, and especially Georgia and Carolii^Labound in fertile lands,
which produce copious crops of wheat, a^particularly of rice, than
which nothing could be more essential ^flhe support of a fleet and
army, at so great a distance from theiflBicipal sources of supply.
The parts of the American territory '.vrafeh had hitherto fallen into
the power of the English, had offeredflnem but a feeble resource,
and they were obliged to draw the greAest part of their provisions
from Europe, through all the perils offlhe sea, and the swarms of
174 THE AMERICAN WAR. BOOK XII.
American privateers which continually preyed on their convoys. It
is, besides, to be observed, that the nee of Georgia and South Caro-
lina served to nourish the French fleets, and the troops that formed
the garrisons of their islands in the West Indies.
The quiet and security which these provinces had hitherto enjoy-
ed, admitted so vigorous a cultivation, that the products of it not
only furnished an inexhaustible resource to the allies of the Amer-
icans, but, being exported to the markets of Europe, constituted the
material of a commerce, by which they received those supplies
which were necessary, as well to the support of the war, as to the
conducting of the common business and affairs of life. The English
also reflected that, as Georgia borders upon East Florida, the latter
was exposed to constant alarms and incursions on the part of the
republicans ; and they were convinced that there existed no effectual
means of securing the quiet of that province, short of compelling the
troops of congress to evacuate Georgia and the Carolinas. The
conquest of the first of these provinces, they had little doubt, would
insure them that of the two others ; and they promised themselves
with full assurance the possession of Charleston, a rich and populous
city, and of extreme importance, both for its situation and port.
Such were the advantages the English expected to derive from their
expedition against the southern provinces.
To these considerations was added another ; the severity of the
season no longer admitted operations in the mountainous provinces
of the north. Accordingly, general Clinton, as we have related in
the preceding book, had embarked for Georgia, under convoy of
commodore Hyde Parker, a detachment of twenty-five hundred
men, consisting of English, Hessians and refugees. He hoped by
the assistance of these last, and their partisans, to find easy admis-
sion into that province. This corps was under the command of
colonel Campbell, an officer of distinguished valor and capacity.
Clinton, at the same time, had ordered general Prevost, who com-
manded in the Floridas, to collect all the troops that could be spared
liom the defense of those provinces, and to march also against
Georgia, in order that ikmight be attacked at once in front, on the
part of the sea, by Ca*>bell, and in flank, on the banks of the
Savannah river, by Pr^fcst. The plan or this expedition thus
arranged, commodore Iflfe Parker and colonel Campbell arrived,
towards the close of DejBber, at the isle of Tybee, situated near
the mouth of the Savaijal. The transports had little difficulty in
passing the bar and entering into that river. They were followed, a
few days after, by the ships of war, so that all the fleet lay together
at anchor in its waters on the twenty-seventh of December, ready to
BOOK XII. THE AMERICAN WAR. ]75
execute the orders of the commanders for the invasion of the prov-
ince. The latter, not knowing what were the forces, the measures
of defense, and the intentions of the republicans, detached some
light infantry to scour the adjacent banks. They took two GeoN
gians, from whom it was understood that no intimation had been
received in the province of the project of the royalists ; that conse-
quently no preparations for defense had been made ; that the bat-
teries which protected the entrance of the rivers were out of condi-
tion, and that the armed galleys were so placed that they might
easily be surprised. It was also learned that the garrison of Savan
nah, the capital of the province, was very feeble, but that it was soon
to be re-inforced. Upon this intelligence, the British commander
no longer delayed to commence his operations.
The whole country on the two banks of the Savannah, from its
mouth to a considerable distance above, being a continued tract of
deep marsh, intersected by the extensive creeks of St. Augustine and
Tybee, it offers no point capable of serving as a place of debarkation.
The English were therefore under the necessity of moving higher up.
in order to reach the usual landing place, at which commences a very
narrow causeway that leads to the city. This post, extremely diffi-
cult of itself, might have been vigorously defended by the Americans.
But, surprised by an unexpected attack, or destitute of sufficient
force, they made no opposition to the descent of the English, who
landed at first their light troops. The causeway leads through a rice
swamp, and is flanked on each side by a deep ditch. Six hundred
yards above the landing place, and at the head of the causeway, rises
an abrupt eminence, upon which was situated the house of a certain
Gcrridoe. It was occupied by a detachment of republicans. As
soon as the light infantry, the greater part Scotch Highlanders, had
landed under the command of captain Cameron, they formed, and
pushed forward along the dike to attack the post of the Americans.
The latter received them with a smart fire of musketry ; Cameron
was mortally wounded. Incensed at the loss of their captain, the
Highlanders advanced with such rapidity, that the Americans had
no time for charging again, and instantly fle4- The English seized
the height ; colonel Campbell, having ascended it, in order to view
the country, discovered the army of the enemy drawn up about half
a mile east of the town of Savannah. Itwas commanded by major-
general Robert Howe, and appeared disposed to make a firm stand,
to cover the capital of the province. It consisted in a strong corps
of continental troops, and the militia of the country. It was so dis-
posed that its two wings extended on the two sides of the great road
leading to Savannah. The right, under the command of colonel Eu-
J76 THE AMERICAN WAR. BOOK XII.
gee, and composed of Carolinians, was to the south, having its flank
towards the country protected by a wooded swamp and by the houses
of Tatnai. The left, having the road on its right flank, was covered
on the left by rice swamps. It consisted for the most part of Geor-
gians, under the orders of colonel Elbert. One piece of cannon was
planted at each extremity of the American line, and two pieces
occupied the traverse, across the great road in the center. About
one hundred yards in front of this traverse, at a critical point between
two swamps, a trench was cut across the road, and about one hun-
dred yards in front of the trench, ran a marshy rivulet, the bridge
over which had been destroyed. Lastly, the Americans had on
their rear the town of Savannah itself, which was surrounded by a
moat.
The British commander, having left a detachment to guard the
landing-place, and another to secure a neighboring cross road to
cover his rear, advanced directly towards the enemy. He endeav-
ored to devise the most expedient mode of attacking them in the
strong position they occupied. By the movements of the Americans,
he was not long in perceiving that they expected and even desired
that he should engage their left wing ; he accordingly omitted no
means in use on similar occasions, with experienced commanders,
that could serve to cherish that opinion and continue its delusion.
He drew off a part of his forces to form on his right, where he also
displayed his light infantry. His intention, however, was to attack the
right wing of the Americans. While making his dispositions, chance
threw into his hands a negro, by whom he was informed of a private
path through the wooded swamp on the enemy's right, which led to
their rear. The negro offered to show the way, and promised
infallible success. Colonel Campbell resolved to profit of the occa-
sion which fortune seemed to have provided him. He accordingly
directed sir James Baird to pursue with his light infantry the indi-
cated path, turn the right of the Americans, and fall in by surprise
upon their rear. The New York volunteers under colonel Trumbull
were ordered to support the light infantry. While Baird and Trum-
bull, guided by the negro, proceeded to execute this movement,
Campbell posted his Artillery in a field on the left of the road,
concealed from the enemy by a swell of ground in the front. It was
destined to bear upon th# Carolinians, and to cannonade any body
of troops in flank, which they might detach into the wood to retard
the progress of Baird's light infantry. Meanwhile, the republicans
continued to ply their artillery with great animation ; the royalists
were motionless ; a circumstance which doubtless would have excited
alarm if their enemies had been either more experienced, or less
BOOK XII. THE AMERICAN WAR. 177
sanguine. At length, when Campbell conceived that Baird had
reached his position, he suddenly unmasked his artillery, and
marched briskly on to the enemy, who were still totally blind to
their danger.
The charge of the English and Hessians was so impetuous, that the
Americans, unable to withstand its shock, immediately fell into con-
fusion and dispersed. The victors pursued them. During this time,
the light infantry of Baird had gained the rear of the American right.
They fell in with a body of Georgian militia, who were stationed
to guard the great road from Ogeeche, and routed them at the
first onset. As they were in pursuit of the fugitives, on their way to
fall upon the main body of the Americans, the latter, already dis-
comfited, came running across the plain full in their front. The
disorder and dismay that now ensued, were past all remedy : the
victory of the English was complete. Thirty-eight commissioned
officers, upwards of four hundred non-commissioned and privates,
forty-eight pieces of cannon, twenty-three mortars, the fort with its
ammunition and stores, the shipping in the river, a large quantity of
provisions, with the capital of Georgia, were all in the hands of the
conquerors before dark. The loss of the Americans, owing to their
prompt flight, was very small. Only about fourscore fell in the
action and pursuit, and about thirty more perished in their attempts
to escape through the swamp. The English lost perhaps not twenty
men in dead and wounded. This singular good fortune was the fruit
of the excellent dispositions of colonel Campbell. He distinguished
himself no less by a humanity the more deserving of praise, as he
could not have forgotten the harsh treatment he had received in the
prisons of Boston. Not only was the town of Savannali preserved
from pillage, but such was the excellent discipline observed, that
though the English entered it with the fugitives, as into a city taken
by storm, not a single person suffered who had not arms in his hand,
and who was not, besides, in the act either of flight or resistance. A
strong circumstantial testimony, that those enormities so frequently
committed in time of war, should with more justice be charged to the
negligence or immediate participation of the chiefs, than to the un-
governable license of the soldiers.
1779. Having thus made themselves masters of the capital, the
British troops soon overran the whole province of Georgia. Their
commander issued a proclamation, by which he offered pardon to
deserters, and exhorted the friends of the English name to repair to
the royal standard, promising them assistance and protection ; this
step was not altogether fruitless. A considerable number presented
themselves ; they were formed into a regiment of light dragoon?.
VOL. n. 12
178 TFIE AMERICAN WAR BOOK XII.
But the more determined republicans, preferring exile to submission3
withdrew into South Carolina.
The English also employed all their address to induce the repub-
lican soldiers they had made prisoners to enlist in the service of the
king ; but their efforts were nearly fruitless. They were, therefore,
crowded on board vessels, where, from the heat of the weather in the
following summer, and the bad air concomitant with their mode of
confinement, the greater part perished. The officers were sent on
;parole to Sunbury, the only town in the province which still held for
the congress ; but Moses Allen, the chaplain of the Georgians, was
retained, and thrust, a prisoner on board the vessels, among the
common soldiers. This minister of religion had not contented him-
self with exciting the people to assert their independence, in his
discourses from the pulpit ; he appeared also, with arms in hand,
on the field of battle, exhibiting in his own person an admirable
example of valor, and devotion to the cause of country.
Weary of the protracted rigors of his captivity, he one day threw
himself into the river, hoping to escape, by swimming, to a neigh-
boring island ; but he was drowned, to the great regret of all his
fellow-citizens, who venerated his virtues, and justly appreciated his
intrepidity. The Americans, too much enfeebled to keep the field,
passed the Savannah at Zubly, and retreated into South Carolina.
The English, on the contrary, now masters of the greater part of
Georgia, frequently scoured the banks of the river, in order to dis-
quiet the enemy, who was still in possession of the countries situated
on the left bank.
In the meantime, general Prevost had put himself on the march
from East Florida, to execute the orders of general Clinton. He
had to struggle with the most formidable impediments, as well from
the difficulty of the places as from the want of provisions. At length,
after excessive fatigues and hardships, being arrived in Georgia, he
attacked the fort of Sunbury. The garrison, consisting of about two
hundred men, made some show of defense ; and gave him the
trouble of opening trenches. But, although they were supported by
some a med vessels and galleys, yet all hope of relief being now
totally cut off by the reduction of the rest of the province, they found
it necessary to surrender at discretion. They were treated humanely.
This happened just at the time when colonel Campbell had already
set out on an expedition for the reduction of Sunbury. The two
English corps made their junction with reciprocal felicitations.
General Prevost repaired to Savannah, where he took the command
of all the British troops that, coming from. New York and from St.
Augustine, had conquered to the king the entire province of Georgia.
BOOK XII. THE AMERICAN WAR. 179
After such brilliant success, the British tcommanders deliberated
upon what they had to do next. They were perfectly aware that
their forces were not sufficient to act in a decisive manner , against
Carolina, a powerful province, animated with the same spirit, espe-
cially in the maritime parts, and governed by men endowed with the
best talents, and exercising a great influence over the multitude.
The reduction of Georgia was, in truth, the only object which gene-
ral Clinton had as yet proposed to himself. He had purposed to
defer the invasion of Carolina until the arrival of the re-inforcements
which admiral Arbuthnot was to bring him from England. Never
theless, considering the importance to the success of future operations
of continuing offensive war, rather than halting upon the defensive, it
was determined to make several excursions into Carolina, in order to
keep alive in that province the terror of the royal arms, and to
re-animate the hopes of the loyalists. Major-general Gardner was
accordingly detached with a numerous corps, to take possession of
Port Royal. But this expedition had the most disastrous issue ;
the Carolinians fell vigorously upon the English, and expelled them
from the island with severe loss, both in officers and soldiers.
On the failure of this project, the British generals endeavored to
excite a movement among the adversaries of congress. They in-
habited, as we have related, in very considerable number, the back
parts x)f Georgia and the two Carolinas. The hope placed in them
was one of the principal causes that had occasioned the invasion of
the southern provinces to be undertaken. Of these loyalists there
were several sorts ; some, more violent and rancorous, had not only
abandoned their country, but had attached themselves to the Indians,
in order to inflict all possible mischief on their fellow-citizens, in the
incursions on the frontiers. Others lived solitary and wandering
upon the extreme confines of the Carolinas, watching with the most
eager attention for any favorable occasion that might offer itself, for
the recovery of their settlements. Others, finally, either less bitter
or more politic, continued to reside in the midst of the republicans,
feigning an acquiescence in the will of the majority. Though they
had quitted arms for the labors of agriculture, they were still always
ready to resume them, whenever the possibility of a new change
should become perceptible. In the meantime, they had recourse to
artifice, and exerted their utmost diligence to keep their outlawed
friends advised of all that passed within the country, and especially
of all the movements of the republicans ; of this, the generals of
the king were not ignorant.
In order, therefore, to encourage and support the loyalists, they
moved up the Savannah as far as Augusta. As soon as they were
in possession of that post, they left no means unattempted that could
180 THE AMERICAN WAH. BOOK Xlt.
re-animate their partisans, and excite them to assemble in arms
They sent among them numerous emissaries, who exaggerated to
them the might of the royal forces. They assured them that if they
would but unite, they would become incomparably superior to their
enemies ; they were prodigal of promises and presents ; they exas-
perated minds already imbittered by flaming pictures of the cruelties
committed by the republicans. Such were the opinions propagated
by the British generals among the friends of the king. Their insti-
gations produced the intended effect ; the loyalists took arms, and
putting themselves under the command of colonel Boyd, one of their
chiefs, they descended along the western frontiers of Carolina, in
order to join the royal army. More properly robbers than soldiers,
they continually deviated from their route, in order to indulge their
passion for pillage. What they could neither consume nor carry off,
they consigned to the flames. They had already passed the Savan-
nah, and were near the British posts, when they were encountered by
colonel Pickens, who headed a strong detachment of Carolinian?,
levied in the district of Ninety-six. Instantly, the action was engaged
with all the fury excited by civil rancor, and all the desperation
inspired by the fear of those evils which the vanquished would have
to suffer at the hands of the victors. The battle lasted for a full
hour. At length the loyalists were broken and completely routed.
Boyd remained dead upon the field ; all were dispersed ; many fell
into the power of the republicans. Seventy were condemned to
death ; only five, however, were executed. This success made a
deep impression throughout Georgia, where the disaffected were
already on the point of arming against the congress. The incur-
sions of the loyalists were repressed, and the republicans could
proceed with greater security in their preparations for defense
against the royal arms. Another consequence of it was, that the
English evacuated Augusta, and, retiring lower down, concentered
their force in the environs of Savannah.
This measure was the more prudent on their part, as general Lin-
coln, to whom congress had intrusted the command of all the troops
in the southern provinces, was already arrived, and had encamped at
Black Swamp, on the left bank of the Savannah, at no great distance
from Augusta. This general, born in Massachusetts, having distin-
guished himself in the campaigns of the north, had been proposed to
the congress by the Carolinians themselves, on their first receiving
intelligence of the projects of the enemy against the southern prov-
inces. The congress had yielded the more readily to their recom-
mendation, as they had themselves a high opinion of the talents of
general Lincoln, and were not ignorant how essential it is to the sue-
BOOK XII. THE AMERICAN WAR. 18]
cess of operations, that soldiers should have perfect confidence in
their chiefs. The president, Lovvndes, employed all the means in
his power to inflame the ardor of the inhabitants of South Carolina,
and to excite them to take arms in defense of country. In private,
as well as in public, he addressed them the most stimulating exhor-
tations ; he directed that all the cattle of the islands and towns situ-
ated upon the coast, should be withdrawn into the interior of the coun-
try. The militia assembled and joined the continental troops. The
same zeal for the public cause broke forth at the approach of danger
in North Carolina ; in a few days, two thousand of its militia were
imbodied under the generals Asheand Rutherford. If this corps could
have been furnished with arms as promptly as the conjuncture required,
it would have made its junction in time with that of general Howe,
and perhaps might have decided in his favor the fortune of the day
of Savannah. The enthusiasm of the Carolinian patriots was then
at its height ; every day added to the strength of their army. They
had indeed great efforts to make. Washington was far from them,
and before succors could arrive, they were exposed to the most fatal
reverses. Moreover, the commander-in-chief was himself much oc-
cupied with the guard of the passes of the mountains, and his forces
were continually mined by a pest which was still but imperfectly rem-
edied ; the shortness of engagements. It was not to be expected,
then, that he should strip himself in order to re-inforce the army of
the south ; yet more, the same intestine disease which enfeebled the
army of Washington, was also the cause that little reliance could be
placed in that of Lincoln, although it was already combined with the
relics of the corps of Robert Howe. With the exception of six hun-
dred continental troops, the rest were militia, little accustomed to
war, and bound only to a few months of service. General Lincoln,
however, not in the least discouraged, found resources even in his
own ardor. In order at first to show himself to the enemy, he had
repaired to Black Swamp, on the north side of the Savannah. This
movement, together with the recent discomfiture of the loyalists, had
induced the British general to retire down the river, leaving, howev-
er, an advanced post at Hudson's Ferry. But Lincoln extended his
views farther ; he purposed to restrict the enemy still more, and to
press him close upon the coast, in order to deprive him of the re-
sources he would find in those fertile countries, and to put an end
to the intercourse, whether open or secret, which he kept up with
die loyalists of the upper parts. He accordingly ordered general
Ashe to leave his baggage behind, and, passing the Savannah, to take
post on a little river called Briar Creek This order was executed
with diligence, and the camg seated in a very strong position. It
JgO THE AMERICAN WAR. BOOK XII.
\vas covered in front by the creek, which for several miles above was
too deep to be forded ; on the left by the Savannah and a deep mo-
rass ; the right was secured by a corps of cavalry. General Ashe
had wkh him about two thousand men.
Notwithstanding the strength of his encampment, the English
resolved to attack him. Colonel Prevost, who was posted at Hud-
son's Ferry, set out on this expedition. Having divided his force in
t\vo columns, he advanced the right, with two pieces of cannon,
towards Briar Creek, with an apparent view of intending to pass it,
in order to take up the attention of the republicans. The left, con-
sisting of nine hundred men, among which were grenadiers, light
infantry, and horse, he led himself a circuitous march of about fifty
miles, in order to cross Briar Creek, and thereby, turning the right,
to fall unexpectedly upon the rear of the enemy. At the same time,
general Prevost made such dispositions and movements on the bor-
ders of the river, between Savannah and Ebenezer, as were likely
to divert general Lincoln from thinking of Ashe. This general, who,
in such a proximity of the enemy, should have redoubled his watch-
fulness, instead of having the country scoured by his cavalry, had
detached it upon some distant and unprofitable expedition. The
English, therefore, arrived so unexpectedly, though in open daylight,
that the Americans received the first notice of danger from the havoc
which the assailants made in their camp. The militia were panic
struck, and fled without firing a shot. But many of them encountered
in flight that death which they might have avoided by a gallant
resistance. Their cowardice did not shield them ; the deep marsh
and the river which should have afforded security became now the
instruments of their destruction. Blinded by their flight and terror,
they were swallowed up in the one, or drowned in the other. The
regular troops of Georgia and the Carolinas, commanded and ani-
mated by general Elbert, made a brave resistance ; but, abandoned
by the militia, and overwhelmed by number, they were also compelled
to retreat. This rout of Briar Creek took place the third of March.
The Americans lost seven pieces of cannon, all their arms and
ammunition, with not a few killed and prisoners. The number of
the drowned and wounded is not known ; but it appears that more
perished in the water than by wounds. Of all the corps cf general
Ashe, scarcely four hundred soldiers rejoined general Lincoln, who,
in consequence of this disaster, found his forces diminished more
than a fourth part. This victory rendered the royal troops again
masters of all Georgia. It opened them communications with the
loyalists in the back parts of flr.s province and the two Carolinas.
Those who were not yet recoverc-1 of the terror inspired by their
BOOK XII. THE AMERICAN WAR. 1S3
recent defeat, took fresh courage ; there was nothing now to prevent
their going to re-inforce the royal army.
The Carolinians, though deeply affected at so severe a check,
were not, however, disheartened ; and, in order to prevent the victo-
rious enemy from overrunning their fertile territory, they made every
exertion to assemble their militia, and to re-animate their ardor.
Rigorous penalties were decreed against those who should refuse to
march when called out, or to obey their commanders ; high bounties
were promised ; regiments of horse were organized ; the officers
were chosen among the most leading men of the country. John
Rutledge, a man of extensive influence, was elected governor of
the province, and empowered to do whatever he should judge neces-
sary to the public welfare. Animated by the love of country, and
stimulated by the prospect of those evils which would be their portion
if the English should gain possession of the province, the republicans
displayed so much zeal and activity in their preparations for defense,
that by the middle of April, general Lincoln found himself a* the
head of more than five thousand fighting men.
While these preparations were in process in the Carolinas, general
Prevost busied himself in Georgia in re-organizing all those parts of
the service which had suffered by the war. He established an in-
ternal administration in the province, and strenuously urged the loyal-
ists to rally around him . He did not immediately attempt to cross the
Savannah, because it was extremely swoln by the rains ; and, besides,
he had not a sufficient force to attack lower Carolina, where there
were none but patriots ; and general Lincoln, notwithstanding the
rout of Briar Creek, still maintained his position on the left bank,
ready to oppose him, if he inclined to pass. Not, however, that the
American general was in a condition to act offensively before he was
re-inforced ; he might even have deemed himself extremely fortunate
in not being attacked. But as soon as he found his force augmented,
as we have just seen, he made a movement which provoked another
of extreme importance, on the part of his adversary. He marched,
about the beginning of May, towards Augusta, whether to protect an
assembly of the deputies of the province, which was to convene in
that town, or for the purpose of taking a strong position in upper
Georgia, in order to watch over the interests of the confederation in
that, part, and to interrupt the transmission of provisions and recruits
which the loyalists furnished to the British. He was already arrived
in Georgia, and all his measures were taken for the execution of his
design. He had left general Moultrie, with fifteen hundred men, in
front of general Prevost, in order to dispute his passage across the
Savannah. He considered this corps the more sufficient for the
194 THE AMERICAN WAK. BOOK XIT.
defense of the left bank and the approaches of Charleston, the
capital of South Carolina, inasmuch as the breadth of the river, the
marshes which border it on the north side, and the numerous creeks
which intersect that province, appeared to him obstacles capable by
themselves of arresting the enemy.
But general Prevost saw his position in a different light. His army
was increased by the junction of the loyalists. He hoped that his
presence in Carolina would excite some movements there ; he wanted
provisions, which he was sure of finding in abundance in that prov-
ince ; and lastly, he calculated that the effect of his invasion would
be to recall Lincoln from Georgia, and perhaps to afford an oppor-
tunity of engaging him with advantage. Determined by these con-
siderations, he put himself at the head of a corps of three thousand
men, among English, loyalists, and Indians, and passed the Savannah
with its adjacent marshes, though not without excessive difficulties.
The militia under Moultrie, surprised and dismayed at such intrepid-
ity, gave way, and after a feeble resistance fell back upon Charles-
ton. Moultrie, with the handful he had left, and the light horse of
Pulaski, exerted his utmost efforts to retard the enemy ; but he was
soon compelled to yield to f6rce. Astonished himself at the facility
with which he had triumphed over the natural impediments of the
country, and the resistance of the republicans, Prevost extended his
views to objects of greater moment. The drift of his expedition
was at first merely to forage ; he was disposed to give it a nobler
aim, and ventured to meditate an attack upon the important city of
Charleston. He promised himself that it would soon fall into his
power, when he should have acquired the control of the open
country.
The loyalists, in the eagerness of their hopes and wishes, which
they too frequently substituted for realities, failed not to improve this
disposition, which was so favorable to them. They assured Prevost
that they had correspondence with the principal inhabitants of the
city, and that the moment the royal standard should be descried from
its battlements, their adherents would rise and throw open its gates.
Moreover, they offered to serve as guides to the army, and to furnish
till the information that could be desired respecting the nature of the
country. Another consideration came to the support of their repre-
sentations ; though general Lincoln could not but know the British
had crossed the Savannah, and menaced the capital, yet he manifest-
ed no intention of moving to its relief; so fully was he persuaded
that the royalists designed nothing more than to pillage the country.
General Prevost, therefore, pursued 'his march towards Charleston
m great security, hoping, in the consternation at his sudden appear-
BOOK XII. THE AMERICAN WAR 1S5
ance, to enter it without opposition. Meanwhile, when Lincoln was
convinced, by the continual approaches of the enemy, of the realit)
of his designs, he immediately detached a body of infantry, mounted
on horseback, for the greater expedition, to the defense of the capi-
tal, and collecting the militia of the upper country, returned with his
whole force to act as circumstances might offer for its relief. The
English had arrived at Ashley river, which bathes the walls of
Charleston on the south ; they passed it immediately, and took post
within little more than cannon shot of that city, between the river
Ashley and another called the Cooper, which flows a little to the
north of it. The Carolinians had made all the preparations for
defense which the shortness of time admitted. They had burnt the
suburbs, and cut a trench in the rear of the city from one river to
the other. The fortifications had been repaired, and batteries erected
upon all the chain of works which formed the cincture of the town.
Governor Rutledge had arrived there two days before, with five
hundred militia, as well as colonel Harris, who had brought the
succor sent by general Lincoln, after a forced march of more than
forty miles at every stage. The count Pulaski was also come to
re-inforce the garrison with the dragoons of his legion, which was
called the American Legion. The presence of all these troops re-
assured the inhabitants ; they would have thought themselves fortu-
nate in obtaining an honorable capitulation if this succor had not
reached them, or if the English, instead of suspending their march,
as they did, had made their appearance two days sooner. The gar-
rison passed the whole night under arms ; the houses, and the entire
circuit of the walls, were illuminated. On the following morning, the
British general summoned the town, offering very favorable condi-
tions. The Americans sent out their commissioners to negotiate,
and the conference was opened. But they neglected nothing that
could draw it into length, as soon as they discovered that the be-
siegers were not in force sufficient to carry the place, before, in all
probability, general Lincoln would arrive to its deliverance. Ac-
cordingly, they proposed that their province should remain neuter
during the war ; and that, at the conclusion of peace, it should be
decided whether Charleston was to belong to the United States or to
Great Britain.
The English answered that their generals had not come there with
legislative powers, and that since the garrison were armed, they must
surrender prisoners of war. Other proposals were made on both
sides, which were not accepted, and the English lost the whole day
in this negotiation, which was not broken off till in the evening.
The inhabitants, expecting to be attacked during the night, made
Jgg THE AMERICAN WAR BOOK XII .
every preparation for a vigorous defense. Finding himself totally
disappointed in every hope that had been held out to him relative to
Charleston, general Prevost began to reflect that the ramparts were
furnished with a formidable artillery, and flanked by a flotilla of
armed shipping and galleys; that the garrison was even more numer-
ous than his own army ; that he had neither battering artillery, nor
a naval force to co-operate with his land forces ; that the vanguard of
the army of Lincoln had already appeared, and that himself was fast
approaching ; and lastly, that if he were repulsed with any consider-
able loss, which was much to be apprehended, his situation, involved
as he was in a labyrinth of rivers and creeks, surrounded on all sides
by a superior enemy, seemed scarcely to admit of a hope that any
part of his army could have been preserved. Under these consid-
erations, he profited of the obscurity of night, and directed his re-
treat towards Georgia. But instead of taking the way of the land,
which was too dangerous, he passed his troops into the islands of St.
James and St. John, which lie to the southward of Charleston, and
whose cultivation and fertility offered abundant resources. As from
Charleston to Savannah there extends along the coast a continued
succession of little contiguous islands, so separated from the continent
as to afford both navigable channels and excellent harbors, Prevost
could be at no loss about the means of repairing to the latter city.
His immediate design was to establish his camp on the island of
Port Royal, situated near the mouth of the Savannah, and no less
remarkable for its salubrity than fruitfulness. These quarters were
the more desirable, as the sickly and almost pestilential season alreadv
approached in the Carolinas and Georgia, and the British troops,
not yet accustomed to the climate, were peculiarly exposed to its
mortal influence.
While Prevost was engaged in passing^his troops from one island
to another, general Lincoln, who by the main land had followed
the movements of the enemy, thought it a proper opportunity to
attack colonel Maitland, who, with a corps of English, Hessians and
Carolinian loyalists, was encamped at the pass of Stono Ferry, on
the inlet between the continent and the island of St. John ; this
post, besides its natural advantages, was well covered with redoubts,
an abattis, and artillery. The Americans attacked with vigor, but
they found a no less obstinate resistance. At length, overwhelmed
by the enemy's artillery, and unable with their field pieces to make
any impression on his fortifications, they retired at the approach of a
re-inforcement which came to the support of Maitland. The Eng-
lish, after establishing posts upon the most important points, proceed-
ed to occupy their cantonments on the island of Port Royal. Tho
BOOK XII. THE AMERICAN WAR. 187
Americans returned, for the most part, into theirs ; and the unhealthi-
ness of the season put a stop to all further operations of either party.
The English thus remained in peaceable possession of the whole
province of Georgia ; and the Americans found some consolation in
having raised the siege of Charleston, though the vicinity of the
enemy still left them in apprehension of a new invasion in South
Carolina. The incursion of which this rich and flourishing province
had just been the theater, so far from serving the interests of the
king, was highly prejudicial to his cause. If it enriched his officers
and soldiers, it caused the ruin of a great number of inhabitants.
The royal troops were not satisfied with pillaging ; they spared
neither women, nor children, nor sick. Herein they had the negroes
for spies and companions, who, being very numerous in all the places
they traversed, flocked upon their route in the hope of obtaining
liberty. To recommend themselves to the English, they put every
thing to sack, and if their masters had concealed any valuable effects,
they hastened to discover them to. their insatiable spoilers. Such
was the rapacity of these robbers, that not content with stripping
houses of their richest furniture, and individuals of their most pre-
cious ornaments, they violated even the sanctuary of the dead, and,
gasping for gold, went rummaging among the tombs.
Whatever they could not carry off, they destroyed. How many
delightful gardens were ravaged ! What magnificent habitations were
devoted to the flames ! Every where ruins and ashes. The very
cattle, whatever was their utility, found no quarter with these barba-
rians. Vain would be the attempt to paint the brutal fury of this
lawless soldiery, and especially of those exasperated and ferocious
Africans. But the heaviest loss which the planters of Carolina had
to sustain, was that of these very slaves. Upwards of four thousand
were taken from them : some were carried to the English islands ;
others perished of hunger in the woods, or by a pestilential disease
which broke out among them soon after.
And here should be recollected the barbarous manifesto published
by the British commissioners on quitting America, after the failure ui
their negotiations ; their abominable threats were but too faithfully
executed in Carolina. A cry of horror arose throughout the civilized
world, against the ferocity of the British armies. Such, also, was the
disordered state of things to which Georgia, by various progressive
steps, was at length reduced.
About the same time, general Clinton meditated, in his camp at
New York, a project whose execution appeared to him to corre-
spond with the views of the ministry, or, at least, proper to second
the expedition of Carolina. He expected to insure its success by
188 THE AMERICAN WAfi. fe6(DK Xlt.
keeping Virginia in continual alarm by cruel but useless devastations
upon the coast of that opulent province. Having assembled a suita-
ble number of ships, under the command of commodore Collier, he
embarked a corps of two thousand men, conducted by general Mat-
thews. They proceeded to the Chesapeake, and leaving a sufficient
force in Hampton Road to block up that port and the entrance of the
river James, went to take land on the banks of Elizabeth river. The
British immediately pushed forward against the town of Portsmouth,
and entered it without resistance. Fort Nelson was also abandoned
to them at the first rumor of their approach. They found it equally
easy to occupy the town, or rather the ruins of the town of Norfolk,
on Uie opposite side of the river. Pursuing their march with the
same celerity, they made themselves masters of Suffolk, on the right
bank of the Nansemond river. In all these places, as well as at
Kempers Landing, Shepherds, Gosport, Tanners Creek, in a word,
throughout the extent of territory into which they penetrated, their
passage was marked by cruelty and devastation. They demolished
the magazines, brought off or destroyed the provisions, and burned or
took away an immense quantity of shipping. Several thousand barrels
of salted provisions, which had been prepared for Washington's army,
and a great quantity of stores, also fell into their power. Their booty
in tobacco even surpassed their hope ; in brief, this rich and fertile
country was converted in a few days into one vast scene of smoking
ruins. In their indignation the Virginians sent to ask the English
what sort of war this was J They answered, that they were com-
manded to visit the same treatment upon all those who refused to oley
the king. Listening to the insinuations of the refugees, who inces-
santly affirmed that Virginia contained a host of loyalists, that were
only waiting for a rallying point to raise the province in revolt, the
British commanders were mucli inclined to prolong their stay in it ;
and thought of fortifying themselves in Portsmouth, in order to make
it their place of arms. They wrote, accordingly, to general Clinton,
demanding his orders. But Clinton, weary of this piratical war, and
less eager than commodore Collier to swallow the brilliant delusions
of the refugees, did not approve the plan proposed. On the contrary,
he directed the chiefs of the expedition, after securing their prizes,
to rejoin him at New York. He needed this force himself, for an
enterprise of no little importance, which he was upon the point of
undertaking, up the Hudson. Virginia, therefore, ceased for that
time to be the theater of these barbarous depredations.
The Americans had constructed, at great labor and expense, very
strong works a-t the posts of Verplanks Neck and Stony Point, situ-
ated on nearly opposite points of land, the first on the east, and the
BOOK XII. THE AMERICAN WAR. 189
other on the west side of the Hudson. They defended the much
frequented pass called Kings Ferry, which could not fall into the
power of the English without compelling the Americans to take a
circuit of ninety miles up the river, in order to communicate between
the northern and southern provinces. General Clinton had there-
fore resolved to seize these two positions. Washington, who lay
with his army at Middlebrook, was at too great a distance to inter-
rupt the execution of the design.
The English, accordingly, set out upon this expedition about the last
of May. Commodore Collier conducted the squadron that ascended
the river, general Vaughan the column of the right, which landed on
the eastern bank, a little below Verplanks, and Clinton in person, the
column of the left, with which he disembarked on the western bank,
below Stony Point. The Americans, finding the enemy so near, and
not being prepared to receive him, evacuated Stony Point, where
they were soon replaced by the royal troops. But at Verplanks there
was more resistance ; the republicans had erected on this point a
small but strong and complete work, which they called Fort la Fay-
ette ; this was defended by artillery and a small garrison. It was
unfortunately commanded by the heights of Stony Point, upon which
the English, by their exertions during the night, had planted a battery
of heavy cannon, and another of mortars. Early on the following
morning, they opened a tempest of fire upon Fort la Fayette. The
attack was supported in front by commodore Collier, who advanced
with his galleys and gunboats within reach of the fort ; and general
Vaughan, having made a circuit through the hills, was at length arriv-
ed, and had closely invested it on the land side. The garrison,
seeing that all possibility of relief was now cut off, and that their fire
was totally overpowered and lost in the magnitude of that which they
received, surrendered at discretion the following morning. They
were treated humanely. General Clinton gave direction for com-
pleting the works of Stony Point ; and with a view to the ulterior
operations of the campaign, encamped his army at Philipsburgh, about
half way between Verplanks and the city of New York. But neither
Clinton nor Washington was disposed to run the hazard of a battle ;
they both expected re-inforcements, the one from England, the other
from the allies of the United States. Such was the cause of the
inaction of the belligerent parties, during this campaign in the middle
provinces.
In defect of conquests, the British generals were disposed, at least,
to rid themselves of the privateers that tormented them, arid to re-
sume the war <. f devastation.
The coasts of Connecticut which border the sound, afforded shel-
190 THE AMERICAN WAR. BOOK XII
ter to a multitude of extremely enterprising privateersmen, who inter-
cepted whatever made its appearance in their waters, to the utter
destruction of the commerce of New York by the sound, and conse-
quently to the infinite prejudice of the British fleet and army, which
had been accustomed to draw the greater part of their provisions
from that part. With a view of curing the evil, Clinton ordered
governor Try on to embark for Connecticut with a strong detachment.
He accordingly proceeded to make a descent at New Haven, where
he dislodged the militia, after some irregular resistance, and destroyed
whatever he found in the port. Thence he advanced to Fairfield,
which he devoted to the flames. Norwalk and Greenfield were in like
manner laid in ashes. The loss of the Americans was prodigious ; be-
sides that of their houses and effects, a considerable number of ships,
either finished or on .the stocks, with a still greater of whale boats and
small craft, with stores and merchandise to an immense amount, were
all destroyed. Tryon, far from blushing at such shameful excesses,
even boasted of them, insisting that he had thereby rendered impor-
tant services to the king. Could he have thought that in a war against
an entire people, it was rather his duty to desolate than to conquer ?
And what other name can be given to ravages and conflagrations
which conduce to«no decisive result, but that of gratuitous enormities?
But, if this mental obliquity, if this cruel frenzy in an individual, who
was not a stranger to civilization, have but too many examples in the
history of men, still, is it not astonishing, that he should have per-
suaded himself that by such means he could induce the Americans to
replace themselves under the royal standard ? It is worthy of remark,
in effect, that in the midst of ravage and combustion, he issued a
proclamation, by which he exhorted the inhabitants to return to their
ancient duty and allegiance. But whether this mode of operation
was displeasing to Clinton, who perhaps had only desired the destruc-
tion of the shipping, and not that of houses and temples, or from what-
ever other more real motive, he ordered Tryon to cease hostilities, and
to rejoin him immediately, at New York. But the melancholy ves-
tiges of the rage of the English were not effaced by his retreat, and
these piratical invasions redoubled the abhorrence attached to their
name.
While the coasts of Connecticut were thus desolated by the
British arms, the Americans undertook an expedition which afforded
a brilliant demonstration that, so far from wanting courage, they
could vie in boldness with the most celebrated nations of Europe.
The English had labored with such industry in finishing the works
at Stony Point, that they had already reduced that rock to the con-
dition of a real fortress. They had furnished it with a numerous and
BOOK XII. THE AMERICAN WAR. 191
selected garrison. The stores were abundant, the defensive prepa-
rations formidable. These considerations could not, however, dis-
courage Washington, who, on hearing of the capture of Stony Point
and Verplanks, had advanced and taken post on the brow of the
mountains of the Hudson, from forming the design to surprise and
attempt both these forts by assault. He charged general Wayne
with the attack of Stony Point, and general Howe with that of Ver-
planks. He provided the first with a strong detachment of the most
enterprising and veteran infantry in all his army.
These troops set out on their expedition the fifteenth of July, and
having accomplished their march over high mountains, through deep
morasses, difficult defiles, and roads exceedingly bad and narrow,
arrived about eight o'clock in the evening within a mile of Stony
Point. General Wayne then halted to reconnoiter the works, and to
observe the situation of the garrison. The English, however, did
not perceive him. He formed his corps in two columns, and put
himself at the head of the right. It was preceded by a vanguard of
a hundred and fifty picked men, commanded by that brave and
adventurous Frenchman, lieutenant-colonel Fleury. This vanguard
was itself guided by a forlorn hope of about twenty, led by lieutenant
Gibbon. The column on the left, conducted by majbr Stewart, had
a similar vanguard, also preceded by a forlorn hope under lieuten-
ant Knox. These forlorn hopes, among other offices, were particu-
larly intended to remove the abattis and other obstructions, which
lay in the way of the succeeding troops. General Wayne directed
both columns to march in order and silence, with unloaded muskets
and fixed bayonets. At midnight they arrived under the walls of
the fort. The two columns attacked upon the flanks, while major
Murfee engaged the attention of the garrison by a feint in their front.
An unexpected obstacle presented itself; the deep morass which
covered the works was at this time overflowed by the tide. The
English opened a most tremendous fire of musketry, and of cannon
loaded with grape-shot ; but neither the inundated morass, nor a
double palisade, nor the bastioned ramparts, nor the storm of fire
that was poured from them, could arrest the impetuosity of the
Americans ; they opened their way with the bayonet, prostrated
whatever opposed them, scaled the fort, and the two columns met in
the centre of the works. General Wayne received a contusion in
the head, by a musket ball, as he passed the last abattis ; colonel
Fleury struck with his own hand the royal standard that waved upon
the walls. Of the forlorn hope of Gibbon, seventeen out of the
twenty perished in the attack. The English lost upwards of six
hundred men in killed and prisoners. The conquerois abstained
192 THE AMERICAN WAR. BOOK XII.
from pillage and from all disorder ; a conduct the more worthy to be
commended, as they had still present in mind the ravages and butch-
eries which their enemies had so recently committed in Carolina, in
Connecticut, and in Virginia. Humanity imparted new effulgence
to the victory which valor had obtained.
The attack meditated against Verplanks had not the same suc-
cess ; general Howe encountered insurmountable obstacles. Mean-
while, Clinton had received intelligence of the capture of Stony
Point; and, being resolved not to suffer the enemy to establish
themselves in that position, he instantly detached a corps of cavalry
and light infantry to dislodge them. But Washington had attained
his object ; he had originally intended nothing more than to make
himself master of the artillery and stores of the fort, to destroy the
works, and to bring off the garrison. It was absolutely inconsistent
with his views to risk a general action, in order to favor a partial
operation ; he therefore ordered general Wayne to retire ; which he
did successfully, after having dismantled the fortifications. This
expedition, so glorious for the American arms, was celebrated with
rapture in all parts of the confederation. The congress decreed
their acknowledgments to Washington, and to Wayne, to Fleury,
Stewart, Gibbon, and Knox. They presented general Wayne with
a medal of gold, which represented this brilliant achievement.
Fleury and Stewart received a similar medal of silver. Not willing
to leave the bravery of their soldiers without its retribution, they
ordered an estimate of the military stores taken at Stony Point, and
the value thereof to be shared among them.
Rendered more daring and adventurous by the success of this
enterprise, the republicans frequently harassed the outposts of the
royal army. The continual skirmishes that followed were alternate-
ly advantageous or disastrous to the two parties. One of the most
considerable was engaged at Paulus Hook, on the right bank of the
Hudson, opposite to New York ; the Americans were treated rather
roughly in it.
An expedition of much more importance took place on the river
Penobscot, near the eastern corifines of New England, pn the side
of Nova Scotia. Colonel Maclean had embarked from Halifax with
a strong division of regulars, with a view of establishing a post, at
the mouth of that river, in the county of Lincoln. On his arrival in
the Penobscot, he took possession of an advantageous situation, and
proceeded to fortify himself. From that position he purposed to
annoy the eastern frontiers of the confederation ; and by this diver-
sion in Massachusetts, he hoped to prevent the inhabitants of that
province from sending re-inforcements to the army of Washington.
BOOK XII, THE AMERICAN WAR. 193
This movement occasioned an unusual alarm at Boston, and it was
determined to make all possible efforts to dislodge the enemy from a
post which smoothed his way to more considerable enterprises. An
armament was fitted out with extraordinary dispatch ; and in order
to secure vessels of transport as well as sailors, an embargo of fort)
days was laid on all their shipping. The crews and the troops were
assembled with equal promptitude, and all the preparations for the
expedition were soon completed. The squadron was under the
conduct of commodore Saltonstall, and the land troops were com-
manded by general Lovell. They sailed for the mouth of the
Penobscot.
Colonel Maclean had received at first rumors, and afterwards
undoubted intelligence, of the preparations that were making at
Boston. He employed all the means which the shortness of notice
left at his disposal, to secure his defense. The republicans appear-
ed ; their first attempts to land were rendered vain by the intrepid
resistance of the royal troops ; they redoubled their efforts, and at
length succeeded in effecting that object. General Lovell, instead
of attacking immediately, which would have ensured him victory, set
about intrenching himself. The English resumed courage. There
was a continual firing of artillery for fifteen days. Finally, the works
which covered the position of the English being partly ruined, the
Americans resolved to proceed to the assault. Colonel Maclean
was informed of their design, and prepared himself to receive
them.
In the morning he was under arms ; but a profound silence pre
vailed in the camp of the besiegers ; their stillness and immobility
appeared inexplicable. The coionel sent to reconnoiter, and he
soon learns, to his extreme surprise, that the enemy's lines are
totally evacuated, that he has not left even a guard, and that he has
re-embarked his troops, arms and stores. The cause of so abrupt a
resolution was not long in disclosing itself. Commodore Collier had
suddenly made his appearance at the mouth of the Penobscot. He
had been apprised of the critical situation of Maclean, and had
immediately departed from Sandy Hook, with a sufficient squadron.
His maneuvers now indicated the design to attack the flotilla of
Massachusetts ; the republicans fell into confusion, and the royalists
completed their discomfiture without difficulty. The vessels of war
and of transport were all taken or blown up, to the incalculable detri-
ment of the Bostonians, who had taken on themselves the whole
burthen of this expedition. The soldiers and sailors, to escape the
conqueror, were forced to pent Irate the most dismal solitudes and
pathless forests, where the extremes of hardship attcimod their
VOL. ii. 13
194 THE AMERICAN WAR. BOOK XII.
retreat. Saltonstall and Lovell, but especially the first, became the
objects of public execration. They were every where loaded with
the reproaches of stupidity and cowardice. The fatal issue of the
enterprise of Penobscot, was calculated to teach the inhabitants of
Massachusetts a truth, which it cost them much to learn, namely,
that in confederate states, nothing is more imprudent than to operate
partially. For it appears that their leaders in this affair, far from
concerting with the generals of congress, did not even acquaint
them with their designs. Thus, with the exception of the conquest
of Georgia, the operations of this campaign *vere conducted with a
sort of languor, and produced no results of any considerable impor
tance. The month of July was, however, sufficiently remarkable
for the terrible reprisals which the Americans, under the conduct of
general Sullivan, exercised against the Indians. The expeditions
undertaken against them the preceding year, by the colonels Butler
and Clarke, had not completely satisfied the congress ; they were
still animated with desire to exact an exemplary vengeance for the
enormities of Wyoming. Moreover, they deemed it indispensably
necessary to repress the incursions of these savages, who, rendered
more daring by impunity, and excited by the presents of British
emissaries, incessantly desolated the frontiers of the confederation.
But by far the most formidable of all trie Indian nations, were the
Six Tribes, who derived a degree of power from the league con-
tracted between them, from a scheme of polity more resembling that
of civilized states, and, especially, from the great number of Euro-
pean adventurers who had established themselves among them, and
had taught them to wield their arms, and to make war with more
dexterity. Interlinked with these, were other savage tribes of
inferior note. The Oneidas, however, should be excepted, who
observed a perfect neutrality towards the congress. The American
government, therefore, resolved a decisive stroke, to deliver itself
forever from this cruel scourge, &nd at the same time to visit upon
the heads of these barbarians the innocent blood of Wyoming. Cir-
cumstances appeared to favor the execution of this design, since the
war. as we have already seen, was become strangely torpid in the
maritime parts. Agreeably to the plan of the expedition, general
Sullivan, who was charged with its execution, proceeded up the
Susquehanna, with a corps of about three thousand men, as fai as
Wyoming, where he waited the arrival of general James Clinton,
who joined him from the banks of the Mohawk, at the head of six-
teen hundred soldiers. He was followed by a great number of
pioneers, sumpter-men, carters, and other species of workmen, to
open the roads, transport provisions, and ravage the country. The
BOOK XII. THE AMERICAN WAR 195
stock of provisions was considerable, but not so aoundant as general
Sullivan could have wished The army had to traverse an immense
tract of country, where no supplies were to be expected. The
horses were sufficient in number, and the artillery consisted of six
field pieces with two howitzers. The two generals made their junc-
tion at Wyoming, the twenty-first of August. Tney immediately
set out for the upper parts of the Susquehanna. Upon the rumor of
their destination, the Indians had made all the preparations in their
power, to avert from their country the impending perdition. Under
the conduct of the same Johnson, Butler, and Brandt, who have
been mentioned in the preceding book, they had assembled in great
number, and had been joined by two hundred and fifty loyalists.
Full of confidence in their strength, they had advanced as far as
Newtown, a village which lay upon the route of Sullivan. Here,
while waiting his approach, they threw up a very extensive intrench-
ment, which they strengthened with a palisade, and some imperfect
redoubts after the European manner. As soon as Sullivan arrived,
he ordered the attack. The Indians defended themselves with great
vigor for more than two hours, though they had no artillery. To
dislodge them more easily from their lines, the American command
er ordered general Poor to draw off to the right, and turn their
position. At sight of this movement, which had not slackened the
attack in front, the Indians lost their courage, and fled in disorder.
Few were killed, however, and none fell into the power of the
victors. The Americans took possession of Newtown. The terror-
struck savages made no other stand. Sullivan had, therefore, no
further obstacle to contend with in overru ining their country, except
the excessive difficulty of the ways, and \he embarrassment of sub-
sistence. His patience and dexterity tfiumphed over both. He
guided his troops into the very heart of the settlements, whose inhab-
itants, men, women, and children, had already escaped to the
deserts, and buried themselves in the most inaccessible forests. The
habitations were burned, the crops were ravaged, the fruit trees cut
down. The officers charged with the execution of these devasta-
tions, were themselves ashamed of them ; some even ventured to
remonstrate that they were not accustomed to exercise the vocation
of banditti. But Sullivan, being himself controled by superior
orders, was inexorable. His soldiers served him with ardor; the
remembrance of Wyoming was fuel to their rage. They burned ar.
immense quantity of grain.* They utterly destroyed forty villages,
and left no single trace of vegetation upon the surface of the ground
* One hundred r nd sixty thousand bushels of torn were destroyed
196 THE AMERICAN WAR. BOOK XII.
All ihe cattle which had not been removed by the Indians, were
brought off, or killed upon the spot. None of the bounties of nature,
none of the products of humui industry, escaped the fury of the
Americans.
This expedition was not only remarkable for the rigor with which
it was executed, but also for the light it threw upon the condition of
these savage tribes. They were found more advanced in civilization
than was believed, or even than could have been reasonably sup-
posed. Their houses were placed in tl.e most pleasant and healthy
situations ; they were roomy, neat, and not without a sort of elegance,
so that little more could have been wished. Their fields, covered
with luxuriant harvests, attested that the art of culture was not un-
known to them. The antiquity and marvellous beauty of their fruit
trees, with the number of their orchards', were incontestable indica-
tions that it was no little time since they were arrived at this degree
of civil improvement. The sowing of grain and planting of trees
being an incontrovertible proof that man looks forward to the future.
it is manifest how erroneous was the opinion, which had hitherto
been maintained, that the savages were totally devoid of forecast.
Their progress is to be attributed to the increase of their population,
to their intercourse with Europeans, and particularly to the efforts of
missionaries, who, in times past, and even perhaps at this epoch, had
lived, or were living among them. The catastrophe of which they
were now the victims, so filled them with consternation, that they
never after made any considerable movement. General Sullivan,
having accomplished his mission, returned to Easton, in Pennsylvania.
His officers and soldiers addressed him letters of thanks and felicita-
tion, which were also made public by means of the press ; whether
they did this of their own '.notion, or in comoliance with the insinu-
ations of Sullivan, who was rather a light man, and exceedingly vain
withal. A short time after, alledging the derangement of health, he
requested leave to resign, and obtained it easily ; the members of
congress were weary of his continual ostentation, no less than of the
habitual asperity of his language with respect to themselves.
Having related the events, which took place upon th3 American
continent, between the royalists and republicans, and between the
latter and the savages, the order of this history requires that we should
pass to the recital of the operations of the English and French in
the West Indies, after the first had been re-inforced by the squadron
of commodore Rawley, and the second by that of the count de
Grasse. By the addition of these new forces, the strength of the
hostile fleets was rendered nearly equal. The English were strongly
desirous of a naval battle; but the cpunt d'Estaing, being much
BOOK XII. THE AMERICAN WAR. 197
superior in land forces to admiral Byron, had principally in view the
conquest of the neighboring English islands. He declined a general
engagement, which, if unsuccessful, would render his superiority by
land of no avail. He therefore lay quietly at anchor in Fort Royal
of Martinico, waiting a favorable occasion to atterript some enter
prise of moment for the service of his sovereign. Fortune delayed
not long to offer it ; admiral Byron had sailed the sixth of June from
St. Lucia, for the island of St. Christophers, where the West India
fleet of merchantmen had assembled, to wait for convoy. His inten-
tion was to escort them with his whole squadron, for some con-
siderable part of their voyage to Europe. He reflected that he
could not leave a part of it in any of the ports of those islands, without
exposing it to the attacks of an enemy greatly superior in force ; he
knew, besffies, that M. de la Motte Piquet was then on his way from
France with a strong re-info rcement to d'Estaing ; and it was plain,
that no ordinary convoy would have been sufficient for the protection
of the British merchant fleet, in case of its falling in with that squad-
ron. No sooner was Byron departed from St. Lucia, than the
French hastened to profit of his absence. D'Estaing detached the
chevalier de St. Rumain, with five ships and four hundred land
troops, between regulars and militia, to attack the island of St. Vin-
cents. This officer fully answered the confidence of the admiral ;
notwithstanding the currents which drifted him out of his course, and
the loss of one ship, he at length effected his landing. He immedi-
ately occupied, sword in hand, the heights which command Kingston,
the capital of the island. The Caribbs, or aborigines, an intrepid
and warlike race, came in multitude to join the assailants. Governor
Morris, though he had more troops to defend himself than de Rumain
had to attack him, perhaps through fear of the Caribbs, whom the
avarice and cruelty of the English had greatly exasperated, surren-
dered upon terms. The capitulation was honorable, and similar to
that which the governor of Dominica had obtained, when that island
fell into the power of the French.
In the meantime, the count d'Estaing was re-inforced by the
arrival of the squadron commanded by M. de la Motte Piquet. His
licet now consisted of twenty-five sail of the line, among which were
two of eighty guns and eleven of seventy-four.
This increase of force rendered him superior to Byron, who had
only nineteen sail of the line, of which one of ninety guns, and eleven
of seventy-four ; the others of inferior rate. La Motte Piquet had
also brought a re-inforcement of regular troops, with a copious supply
of naval and military stores and provisions. The count d'Estaing,
li)8 THE AMERICAN WAR BOOK £11.
with such means at his disposal, was encouraged to extend the scale
of his projects.
The conquest of Grenada was the immediate object of his enter-
prise. The natural strength of that island presented great difficulties ;
out its situation and products rendered it highly important. He had
long thought of this expedition, but had chosen to defer its execution
until he should become possessed of a superiority by sea. The
junction of la Motte Piquet having therefore decided him, he sailed
the thirtieth of June from Martinico, and the second of July came to
anchor in the harbor of Molinier. He immediately landed twenty-
three hundred men, for the most part Irish, in the service of France,
under the conduct of colonel Dillon. They rapidly occupied the
adjacent posts. The governor of the island was lord Macartney,
and its garrison consisted of two hundred regulars, with ix hundred
militia. They were posted upon a height called Morne de FHopi-
tal, which, besides being naturally very steep, the English had ren-
dered still more difficult of access by rude walls of stone, erected
from distance to distance up the ascent. They had also fortified its
declivity with a strong palisade, and, above it, with three intrench-
ments, towering in gradation. This hill commands the town of St.
George, the fortress, and harbor. D'Estaing sent to summon Ma-
cartney. He answered, in truth he did not know the force of the
French, but that he well knew his own, and was determined to defend
himself. The French commander was not ignorant that the principal
hope of success lay in the celerity of his op<~?ations. He was fully
persuaded that, if he delayed his attack, he should be interrupted by
the arrival of Byron, to the relief of the island. He, therefore, gave
orders for the assault, without hesitation. The following night the
French approached the hill, and by two o'clock in the morning they
had invested it on every side. To divide the attention of the enemy,
they were formed in three columns, the right commanded by the
viscount de Noailles, the left by Dillon, and that of the center by the
count d'Estaing in person, who had intrepidly put himself at the
head of the grenadiers. The artillery, not having cannon to serve,
requested and were permitted to form the van. The action was
commenced by a false attack at the foot of the hill, on the part of
the river St. John. At this signal, the three columns, with great
order and greater resolution, pressed up the hill to the assault. The
besieged sustained their onset with much firmness, and for an instant
the success appeared doubtful. The English even pretend to have
repulsed the assailants. But animated by their chiefs, they returned
10 the charge with irresistible impetuosity. The soldiers supported
and impelled one another. Neither the palisades, nor the steepness
BOOK XII. THE AMERICAN IYAR. 199
of the acclivity, nor the parapets, nor the most violent firo could
arrest the French ; their victory was complete. D'Estaing, with
his grenadiers, sprung the first into the English intrenchments. The
others followed. In a moment all the works were inundated with
enemies. The English demanded quarter ; the Freffch granted it.
The darkness of the night had increased the horror of the combat,
and even the glory of the victors. They seized eleven cannon, of
different sizes, and six mortars. At break of day they turned this
artillery against the fort, which was still m the power ol the English.
At the first discharge, Macartney sent a flag, with an offer to capitu-
late. D'Estaing granted him an hour and a half /or framing his
proposals ; those, which at the end of this time he presented, were
rejected. The French general then framed some terms himself,
with whiclp»e required immediate compliance, without the smallest
deviation on either side, or relaxation on his. But these were so
unexampled and extraordinary, that Macartney and the inhabitants
thought it better to abandon themselves, without any condition, to the
discretion of the conquerors, than to accept them ; and accordingly
did so. If the French in this assault displayed a valor deserving of
eternal memory, the moderation and humanity which they manifested
after the victory, merit no inferior encomium. The capital was
preserved from pillage, to which it was liable by the ordinary rules
of war. The inhabitants were protected in their persons and prop-
erties. Dillon, in particular, distinguished himself by the generosity
of his behavior. The French found in the fort an hundred pieces
of cannon and sixteen mortars ; they made seven hundred prisoners.
They also seized thirty merchant vessels, with rich cargoes, that lay
in the harbor. Their loss, in killed and wounded, amounted to little
more than a hundred men.
The count d'Estaing had soon occasion to felicitate himself upon
the promptitude with which he had prosecuted his enterprise of Gren-
ada. For, on the sixth of July, Byron, with all his fleet, appeared
in view of St. George's harbor. It was accompanied by a great
number of transports, filled with troops, drawn from St. Lucia.
This admiral, after accompanying the homeward bound West India
fleet till out of danger, and appointing them a convoy to see them
safe home, had returned with eighteen ships of the line and one
frigate to St. Lucia. On being apprised of the reduction of St.
Vincent, he sailed immediately with a body of troops under general
Grant for its recovery. They had not proceeded far, when they
were informed that the count d'Estaing had attacked Grenada. On
this intelligence they directly changed their course, and made the
best of their way for its relief. The French admiral had been
•200 THE AMERICAN WAIl. BOOK XTI.
apprised, by the frigates he had sent out upon discovery, of the
approach of the British fleet. He immediately ordered the captains
of his ships to get under sail, and form their line well off the coast.
Some had already obeyed, and the others were preparing to follow
them, when tfie British armament came up, all sail out, and offered
battle to the count d'Estaing. The winds blew from the east and
east northeast, and were consequently favorable to a squadron com-
ing from St. Lucia towards Grenada.
Upon sight of the British fleet, the French admiral ordered those
ships which had not yet hoisted their anchors, to slip their cables,
and proceed to take their stations with the others in order of battle.
But as the British approached with rapidity, thes&wessels placed
themselves in the line wherever they could the soonest, without hav-
ing regard to their ordinary posts. The English had the ^vantage of
the wind, and were standing for Grenada, under the persuasion that
Macartney still held out. Their transports were far astern of their
rear. The French were under the wind, and standing upon the
opposite tack. The British admiral was eager to come to close action,
from a confidence that he could thus put the French fleet to rout,
und recover the island. On the other hand, the count d'Estaing,
who, by the reduction of Grenada, had attained his principal object,
was in no disposition to hazard anew a point already decided. His
intention was, therefore, to avoid a decisive engagement, and to con-
fine himself to the preservation of his new acquisition. With these
different views, the two admirals advanced to the encounter. Onh
fifteen of the French ships were able at first to take part in the ac
tion, the others having been forced to leeward by the violence of the
currents. Vice-admiral Barrington, who commanded the British
rear, advanced with three ships, the Prince of Wales, the Boyne, and
the Sultan, and closed with the van of the enemy. A warm engage-
ment ensued, but the three English ships, not being supported in
time by the rest of their division, and having to contend with a much
superior force, v'ere extremely damaged, especially in their sails and
rigging.
Such is the ordinary effect of the manner of firing of the French
in naval battles ; and in this, they leveled from a good distance and
under the wind, which also contributed to raise their shot higher.
Barrington was wounded. Meanwhile, the rest of the British squad-
ron joined him ; and on his part, d'Estaing had rallied those of his
ships which had not been able at first to form in a line with the fifteen
that commenced the action. The English stifl continued to push
their way towards Grenada, while their transports kept on their left
towards the open sea, their line of battle covering them from the
BOOK XII. THE AMERICAN WAR. 201
French fleet. The two armaments being thus drawn out on
opposite tacks, the battle continued till they were entirely passed
each other. But the English ships having arrived in chase, and
consequently rather in disorder, whereas the French, as later from
port, and in better condition, had more command of their move-
ments, and had kept their distances better, it followed that some of
the first had to endure the whole weight of fire from many or from
all of the second. Among those that suffered the most were the
Grafton, the Cornwall, and the Lion. The last was so shattered as
to be very near going to the bottom ; and the Monmouth, having
ventured singly to arrest the progress of the French van, in order to
bring on a close action, had been left little better than a wreck.
Meanwhile, the head of the British van, continuing its course, was
arrived at the mouth of St. George's harbor. But the French
colors that waved on the fort, and the fire of the batteries, no longer
permitted admiral Byron to doubt of the capture of the island.
Convinced, that in the present state of his fleet he could not hope
for success against so great a superiority of force, he directed captain
Barker, who had charge of the transports, to alter his course and
make the best of his way to Antigua or St. Christophers. In order
to protect him from the pursuit of the enemy, he stood with his fleet
to the northward. But the three ships, the Grafton, Cornwall and
Lion, from their disabled condition, not only remained far astern, but
fell so fast to the leeward that it was to be feared they would be cut
off by the French. The count d'Estaing, having observed their situa-
tion, had in effect put his ships about and steered to the south, in order
to effect what Byron apprehended, that is, to intercept them. But, to
defeat this design, the British admiral instantly changed his tack, and
steered again to the southward. While the hostile fleets thus maneu-
vered in sight of each other, the Lion bore away, with what sail she
had left, to the west, and in a few days arrived at Jamaica. D'Es-
taing might easily have seized her ; but he chose not to disperse
his fleet, for fear of falling to leeward of Grenada, whither it was
his intent to return for moorings. The Grafton and Cornwall found
means to rejoin their admiral before the French could reach them.
The Monmouth, no longer able to keep the sea, was sent with all
dispatch to Antigua. The two fleets continued in sight the one of
the other, till night, the English still plying to windward, in order to
cover the retreat of the transports. The inferiority of their force,
and the condition of their ships, deterred them from renewing the
engagement. The French remained to leeward, without attempting
to disquiet them, whether by reason of this position, or because their
admiral thought it imprudent to run new risks He might claim a
202 THE AMERICAN WAR. BOOK XII.
victory for what he had already achieved, and he nad probably mo-
tives for avoiding decisive actions. The following morning he came
to anchor in the road of St. George's, amidst the acclamations of the
soldiers and of the French inhabitants, who had been spectators of
the action. The British transports, one. only excepted, which fell
into the hands of the enemy, all arrived in safetj^t St. Christophers.
Admiral Byron, after remaining a few days longer at sea, repaired
to the same island, for the purpose of refitting his ships, which were
grievously damaged.
The British lost in this engagement one hundred and eighty-three
killed, and three hundred and forty-six wounded. The loss of the
French was more considerable, owing as well to the mode of firing
of the English, as to the great number both of sailors and land forces
with which their ships were crowded. Besides manyfofficers of
note, they had about two hundred men killed, and the number of
their wounded amounted to nearly eight hundred.
The news of the battle of Grenada was welcomed in France with
great demonstrations of joy. According to the usage observed on
occasion of important victories, the king wrote to the archbishop of
Paris, directing that a Te Deurn should be sung in the metropolitan
church. The count d'Estaing pretended, in effect, to have been
victorious ; he alledged in his favor that he had kept his lights burning
during all the night subsequent to the engagement ; that Byron had
for several hours refused to renew it, though all the while he had the
advantage of the wind ; that the British had made no movement to
preserve the Lion, when retiring with difficulty towards the west ; that
the French fleet had captured one of the enemy's ships, conquered
Grenada, and baffled the project of Byron for its recovery ; and,
finally, that it had secured the empire of the sea in the West Indies.
It is indeed true, that the British admiral, in consequence of the dis-
abled condition of his fleet, had found it necessary to take shelter at
St. Christophers, where he was decided to remain until the enemy
should become weaker or himself stronger. His retreat spread con
sternation among the inhabitants of all the British islands, who had not
for a long time, nor perhaps, ever before, seen the French masters at
sea. A short time after the action, d'Estaing, having repaired his
ships, set sail afresh, and paraded with his whole force, in sight of St.
Christophers. Byron lay safely moored in the harbor of Basse
Terre ; the French admiral sought in vain to draw him out to com
bat. Finding him obstinate in his immobility, he shaped his course
for St. Domingo, where he assembled the merchantmen of the dif-
ferent islands, and dispatched them for Europe, under convoy of
three ships of the line and ttoee frigates.
BOOK XII. THE AMERICAN WAR. 203
In this state of things, there being much of the season for opera-
tions still unexpired, the count d'Estaing deliberated upon the
course to be pursued, with most advantage to the interests of his
sovereign. But in the meantime, he received letters from America,
advising him of the extreme dissatisfaction with which the republi-
cans observed that the alliance with France had hitherto produced
nothing, upon the American continent, that corresponded either to
the greatness of their ally, or to the general expectation of the Amer-
icans. It was represented to the French admiral that the enormous
expenses incurred in the expedition of Rhode Island, had been worse
than fruitless ; that the zeal with which the French fleet had been
equipped and victualed by the Bostonians, had produced no better
effect than its immediate desertion of their coasts upon distant ex-
peditions ; that the benefits of the alliance were a nullity for the
Americans, since the loss of Savannah and all Georgia, which had
resulted from the retirement of the French, was not compensated
by the recovery of Philadelphia, even throwing that event into the
scale, as an indirect consequence of their co-operation, and suppos-
ing that the American arms would not otherwise have compelled
the British to abandon that capital ; that the occupation of Georgia
by the enemy was fraught with consequences still more alarming,
since it opened him an easy entrance into the Caidinas; that he
was already established in the heart of America, and drew his sus-
tenance thence ; that meanwhile, the French commanders were
cruising the West Indian seas, enriching themselves with the con-
quest of British possessions, and leaving the Americans to sustain
by themselves the whole burden of this desperate war ; that it ought
not, therefore, to be wondered at, if the number of the discontented
increased every day in proportion to the rapid diminution of the
partisans of France. 'These complaints were concluded with the
most earnest instances and obsecrations that lie would not abandon
a faithful ally in the midst of surrounding perils.
The count d'Estaing could not but listen to these representations,
although he had received instructions from his court, to return imme-
diately to Europe with the twelve ships of the line and four frigates,
uhich composed the fleet of Toulon. He was directed, by the same
instructions, to detach three sail of the line and two frigates, under
the conduct of La Motte Piquet, for the station of St. Domingo, and
to leave eight other ships of the line to winter at Martinico, under
the command of the count de Grasse, who was to co-operate with
the marquis de Bouille, for the reduction of other English islands.
Such were then the intentions of the French ministers ; their nego-
tiations with the court of Spain were in full activity, and they wished
204 THE AMERICAN WAR. BOOK XII.
, •
the Americans to feel all their distress, in order to obtain in the trea-
ty they were about forming with his catholic majesty, more favora-
ble stipulations for each member of the family compact. But d'Es-
taing thought it better to obey the generous impulses of his heart.
than the orders of the ministry. To deprive the Americans of all
pretext for doubting the sincerity of his good dispositions towards
them, he set sail with twenty-two sail of the line and eight frigates.
He had two objects in contemplation, both of the highest impor-
tance ; but he could come to no decision until he had first advised
with the generals of congress. The first was the destruction of the
force under general Prevost, and thus freeing the province of Geor-
gia from the presence of the English, and South Carolina from the
danger of their vicinity. The second was more decisive, and likely
to be attended with more difficulties ; and that was, to attack, con-
jointly with Washington, the British force at New York, by sea and
land at the same time. The success of these two enterprises would
have sufficed to put an end to the war upon the American continent.
It was on the first of September that the count d'Estaing made
his appearance upon the coasts of Georgia, with twenty ships of the
line. He had detached two to Charleston of South Carolina, to give
notice of his nrrival in those waters. It was totally unexpected to
the English ; their ship, the Experiment, of fifty guns, commanded
by captain Wallace, was obliged, after a stubborn resistance, to sur-
render to the French. Three British frigates shared the like fate, as
well as five transports loaded with provisions. This prize was highly
acceptable to the victors, who were much in want of supplies. Gen-
eral Prevost was then at Savannah, with only a part of his troops ;
the remainder were still in their cantonments, on the island of Port
Royal, near the coast of Carolina. At sight of so pressing a danger,
he sent orders by express to colonel Maitland, who commanded on
that island, to rejoin him with all possible celerity. He likewise re-
called the detachment that occupied Sunbury. The vessels at an-
chor in the Savannah were removed higher up, to secure them from
the fire of the enemy, or sunk to obstruct his passage. Other im-
pediments for the same purpose were planted in the*river. The
British also destroyed the batteries they had erected on the island of
Tybee, and compelled the blacks to work without intermission at
the fortifications. The seamen, who had been put ashore, joined
the land troops, and were especially employed for the service of the
artillery.
The news of d'Estaing's arrival excited transports of exultation at
Charleston. General Lincoln immediately commenced his march
for Savannah at the head of a strong detachment. A great number
BOOK XTI. THE AMERICAN WAR. 205
of small craft were dispatched to the French admiral, to facilitate the
debamation of troops upon the coast, which large vessels cannot
approach very near. With the assistance of these light vessels, d'Es-
taing, who had anchored off the bar which lies at the mouth of the
Savannah, was enabled to land his troops at Beaulieu, about thirteen
miles from the town of Savannah. At the same time his frigates were
occupied in taking possession of the lower river, and of the different
inlets ; approaching as near to the town and lines as the circum-
stances of water and defense would admit. On the fifteenth of Sep-
tember, the French appeared under the walls of Savannah. They
were accompanied by Pulaski's legion, who had made a forced march
to join them. After some slight skirmishes, general Prevost con-
tracted all his posts within the cover of the artillery on the works.
Colonel Maitland not being yet arrived, the garrison, far from being
sufficient for acting offensively, were scarcely competent to the de-
fense of the works.
D'Estaing imperiously summoned Prevost to surrender the place ;
he announced in high language, that he commanded the same troops,
a detachment of whom had recently taken the Hospital Hill, in Gre-
nada, by storm ; that he owed it to his humanity to remind him of it,
after which, it could not be imputed to him, if he should not be able
to restrain the fury of his soldiers, in the event of a fruitless resist-
ance. The Americans observed with extreme displeasure and jeal-
ousy, that the summons was made exclusively in the name of the
king of France.
General Prevost, reflecting that his re-inforcements had not yet
joined him, and that his lines were still in a very imperfect state of
defense, thought it prudent to gain all the time that was possible, by
pretending a willingness to negotiate a capitulation. He accordingly
answered the French admiral, that he neither could nor should sur-
render without being first made acquainted with the conditions, and
that he begged him to be more explicit on that head. Messages passed
backwards and forwards ; and at length, so shrewd was Prevost, and
so simple or so confident was d'Estaing, that a truce of twenty-four
hours was agreed upon, to afford time for deliberation. During this
interval, colonel Maitland arrived with the troops from Port Royal,
after having surmounted a variety of obstructions, and made his way
through almost impassable swamps and morasses. On the junction
of this re-inforcements upon which depended, in truth, the principal
hope of defense, Prevost gave the French admiral to understand, that
he should hold out to the last. Two days before, however, general
Lincoln had joined the camp of the besiegers with about three thou-
sand men, among regular troops and militia. The French amounted
„-*
206 THE AMERICAN WAR. BOOK XII.
to between four and five thousand. The garrison, including sailors
and loyalists, consisted of about three thousand men ; the French
established their quarters to the right, and the Americans to the left
of the place. After the refusal of the British commander to surren-
der upon the first summons, the allies could not expect that a mere
assault should triumph over a formidable garrison, intrenched behind
works which they strengthened every day. It was, therefore, resolved
to commence a regular siege. The trenches were opened imme-
diately, and were carried on with so much vigor, that by the twenty-
fourth of September, a sap had been pushed to within three hundred
yards of the abattis, on the left flank of the town. The besieged were
active in their endeavors to interrupt the works ; but their efforts were
ineffectual. Finally, the trenches being completed, and the batteries
armed, the bombardment commenced in the nigh* of the third of
October ; the fire became still more violent at daybreak on the
morning of the fourth, when thirty-seven pieces of cannon and nine
mortars were unmasked ; while sixteen other pieces of cannon
enfiladed the works from the shipping. To increase the terror, the
besiegers launched carcasses into the town, which burned several
houses. Five entire days of this tempestuous fire caused infinite
mischief to the town, but made little impression upon the fortifica-
tions, which the besieged repaired with diligence, wherever they were
at all damaged. It even seemed, that amidst the slorm of balls and
bombs, they daily acquired new strength and solidity. The garrison,
and such of the inhabitants as joined the troops in defending the
ramparts, received little injury. But the fate of the women, chil-
dren, and unarmed multitude, was indeed worthy of pity. Their
lives were continually threatened by the fall of their burning roofs.
Many perished, others, more unfortunate, were miserably crippled.
Touched by their distress, general Prevost wrote to d'Estaing, re-
questing permission that they should be sent aboard ships down the
river, and placed under the protection of a French ship of war, in
which state they were to continue until the business of the siege should
be decided. At the same time acquainting him, that his own wife
raid family should be among the first to profit of the indulgence. The
anticipation of such a request was more to have been expected from
a generous enemy than its refusal ; since the reduction of the place
depended on force, and not on famine. But the French admiral,
whether he acted of himself or at the instigation of general Lincoln,
who, like all the inhabitants of Massachusetts, carried the spirit of
party to the extreme, after a delay of three hours, returned a haugh-
ty answer to this demand. He objected that Prevost had deceived
him by the truce, and that his present proposition very probably
BOOK XII. THE AMERICAN WAR. 207
concealed a new artifice. He suspected him of intending by this
stratagem to cover the rich spoils of Carolina. He assured him,
finally, that he sincerely lamented the unhappy condition of the
individuals for whom he petitioned, but that general Prevost must
impute it wholly to himself, and those illusions which had darkened
his understanding.
Whatever was the ability of the British engineers, and especially
that of captain Moncrieffe, who rendered eminent services in this
siege ; whatever was the valor with which the garrison defended the
breaches, incessantly repaired by their exertions, the British general
could have had little hope of holding out long, and still less of a
successful defence, if the enemy had persevered in his gradual ap-
proaches. But d'Estaing experienced great difficulties. Far from
expecting to encounter so obstinate a resistance under the walls of
Savannah, he had calculated with such confidence on a prompt sur-
render, that he had come to anchor with his fleet of heavy capital
ships, upon an inhospitable coast, and in a most critical season of the
year. He had even signified to the Americans, that he could not
remain on shore more than eight or ten days. Twenty had already
elapsed since the siege had commenced, and still there appeared no
immediate prospect of its termination. The season was growing
worse every day, and the naval officers were continually representing
to their admiral the perils to which he would expose the ships and
troops of the king, if he persisted any longer in the prosecution of
this expedition. It might also happen, that a British fleet would
arrive with every advantage united, and force the French squadron
to engage, at a moment when a part of its crews and artillery were
thus employed in the siegfe of Savannah. Under these considera-
tions, although the trenches were not yet carried to the requisite
perfection, and though no considerable breach had been opened, the
count d'Estaing resolved to attempt the assault. Necessity now
urged him to this extreme counsel, after having delayed to embrace
it, when, at his landing, he had found the works not yet completed,
and the garrison not yet re-inforced by colonel Maitland.
He consulted with general Lincoln upon the plan of attack ; it
was determined to direct it against the right flank of the place. On
this side, a swampy hollow way might bring the besiegers under
cover to within fifty yards of some of the principal works, and. at
some points still nearer.
The ninth, of October, before day, the count d'Estaing and gene-
ral Lincoln, having formed the flower of both armies in three
roiumns, advanced by the hollow way to reconnoiter the point of
attack. But through the darkness, they took a greater circuit to the
203 THE AMERICAN WAR. BOOK XII.
left, and got deeper in the bog than they needed or intended to
have done ; a circumstance which, besides the loss of time, could
scarcely fail of producing some disorder in the columns. They,
however, soon formed anew, approached the foot of the walls, and
mounted to the assault with incredible spirit and audacity. It is
said, that the English had notice of it the preceding evening, and
that they were, consequently, prepared. It is certain, at least, that
they defended themselves with a vigor not inferior to that which as-
sailed them. A redoubt on the Ebenezer road became the scene of
the most terrible conflict. But every where the same courage was
displayed, and no where could it be conjectured which of the parties
victory was disposed to crown. D'Estaing and Lincoln were at the
head of their columns, exposed to the most violent fire. Prevost,
Maitland and Moncrieffe, displayed an equal ardor ; they continually
stimulated their soldiers to repulse from their walls, to exterminate
these rebels to the king, and those inveterate enemies of the British
name. The combat was supported for above an hour with the same
fury. But little by little the assailants became exhausted by their
efforts. They were excessively galled by the artillery, which Mon-
crieffe had disposed with extreme dexterity, and which assailed them
in almost every direction w ith a deluge of balls and grape-shot. The
violence of the attack abated, and the besieged hailed the moment in
which they saw their safety in their own hands. They made a vigor-
ous sally ; a corps of grenadiers and marines was at the head of the
column which, in a few instants, swept the ramparts and ditches.
Ndt content with this first success, and hurried on by their impetu-
osity, the English pursued their enemies, and drove them in the
greatest confusion through the abattis into the hollow we have men-
tioned. This movement was executed with such rapidity, that the
re-inforcements which Prevost had pushed forward could not arrive
in time to take part in it. JNor should it be omitted, that in the
height of the assault, the count Pulaski, at the head of two hundred
light horse, charging at full speed, attempted to penetrate into the
town, in order to assail the British in rear. But he received a mor-
tal wound : his troops, on seeing him fall, were discouraged, and fell
back.
When the fog and smoke were dissipated, which had darkened
the air during the combat, horrible was the spectacle that discovered
itself. Heaps of dead and dying covered the ground, and particu-
larly near the Ebenezer redoubts ; streams of blood rilled from the
wrecks ; lamentable cries arose on every side. The allies requested
a truce, with leave to bury the dead, and carry off the wounded ; the
first was granted, but a restriction laid in point of distance as to the
BOOK XII. THE AMERICAN WAR. 209
rest. The assault of Savannah cost the allies a great sacrifice of
men. The loss of the French in killed and wounded amounted to
upwards of seven hundred ; more than forty of whom were officers.
Among the wounded were d'Estaing himself, the viscounts deFon-
tange and de Bethizy, and the baron de Steding. The Americans
lost in slain and wounded about four hundred. The loss on the
British side, as they fought secure, was inconsiderable. Great civili-
ties now passed between the French camp and the British lines, and
many apologies were made for the answer returned general Prevost
with respect to the women and children. They were now pressed
to place themselves in the situation which they had then requested ;
the Chimera, commanded by the chevalier de St. Rumain, was
named for the reception of the general's wife, her children and
company. Prevost answered with a certain bluntness, that what
had been once refused, and that in terms of insult, could not in any
circumstance be deemed worth the acceptance.
A few days after died the count Pulaski, a Pole of illustrious birth.
Finding no opportunity in his own country to employ his sword in
the defense of liberty, of which he was one of the most zealous par-
tisans, he took the generous resolution to repair to the succor of the
cause he adored in America. If he lost his life there, he also left a
name revered by all the brave. It is related, that when his death
was announced to the king of Poland, he exclaimed, ' Pulaski 1
always valiant, but always foe to kings.' It cannot be denied that
king Stanislaus had good reason to complain of him. The congress
decreed him a monument.
The eighteenth of October, the allied army raised the siege of Sa-
vannah ; its retreat was effected so precipitately, that it was impos-
sible for the English to pursue it. General Lincoln passed his reg-
ular troops to the left bank of the Savannah, the militia disbanded
The French re-embarked with all their troops, artillery and stores
The count d'Estaing immediately set sail to clear the coasts of
America. His intention was to return to Europe with a part of his
fleet, and to send the remainder to the West Indies ; but a violent
storm dispersed his ships, and he had great difficulty in getting them
together again.
Such was the issue of the count d'Estaing's campaign upon the
coasts of North America, of that campaign in which the allies had
placed such sanguine hopes. After missing the expedition of the
Delaware^ he twice abandoned that of Newport at the moment for
its accomplishment. Finally, under the walls of Savannah, he
showed himself at first too circumspect ; he delayed the attack, and
afterwards precipitated an assault which resulted in discomfiture.
VOL. II. 14
210 THE AMERICAN WAR. BOOK XII.
He conquered, it is true, two important islands in the West Indies,
and fought with no little glory a veteran British fleet, commanded by
the most able seamen. D'Estaing was no less precipitate in coun-
sel than impetuous in execution. If fortune, as the friend of the
adventurous, had shown herself more propitious to his efforts, or to
the excellent plans which had been framed for him by the French
ministry, he would indubitably have given paralyzing strokes to the
naval power of England ; he would have afforded America all that
assistance on which she had founded her hopes of promptly termi-
nating the war.
It must be admitted, however, that if the co-operation of the French
admiral was not so advantageous to the Americans as they might rea-
sonably have expected, it was, nevertheless, far from being without
its utility. His presence was a check upon the English, and pre-
vented them from moving so soon as they purposed to have done
against the southern provinces. Moreover, the British ministers,
fearing not only for Rhode Island, but even for New York, if their
troops continued dispersedly to occupy both these provinces, besides
other positions, ordered general Clinton to evacuate the first. He
accordingly did so, the twenty-fifth of October, and withdrew the
garrison to New York. Thus Rhode Island, which had fallen with-
out resistance into the hands of the royalists, returned peaceably into
the power of the republicans. As the fleet of the count d'Estaing
was then upon the coasts of Georgia, the British generals, under the
apprehension of its coming suddenly upon Rhode Island, made their
retreat from Newport with so much precipitation, that they left be-
hind them all their heavy artillery, and a considerable quantity of
stores. The Americans took possession of them immediately. They
kept the British colors floating on the ramparts for several days :
this stratagem decoyed into their power many of the king's vessels,
which came to surrender themselves at Newport.
Having related the military operations of this campaign, as well
on the American continent as in the West Indies, it is not without
interest to cast a glance upon the affairs of the interior, and to ex-
amine what was, at this epoch, the state of th^ "finances, what were
the opinions and the intrigues of the different parties which agitated
a people embarked in the tumultuous career of revolution. If the
union of the arms of France with those of the congress had procured
real advantages to the Americans, and if it authorized them to hope
well of the future, it cannot be denied, on the other hand, that it had
a prejudicial effect upon their public spirit. This powerful protec-
tion itself, with the hopes which were its immediate and necessary
result, easily f ersuaded the colonists that their quarrel approached
BOOK XII. THE AMERICAN WAR. 2ll
its decision, that England would soon have to yield, and that in the
meantime they might take their ease till the moment of deliverance
should arrive. This same cause, which should have excited their
emulation towards their great ally, and stimulated them to concur
with fresh ardor to the common aim, seemed, on the contrary, to
have abated their courage. They were impatient to enjoy that re-
pose during the continuance of danger which they ought not to have
desired until they had fully attained their intent. Amidst the bril-
liant images of approaching felicity with which their glowing imagi-
nations continually regaled them, they forgot to reflect that success
might still elude them while in the act of grasping it. France, on
seeing their torpor, might have changed her counsels ; had she not
in their indolence a plausible pretext and a new motive for a policy
which never hesitates to serve itself at the sacrifice of its allies ?
Was it not possible even that Spain, whose accession was ardently
desired as the pledge of victory, might refuse to combat for a cause
so frigidly supported by its own defenders ? The Americans seem-
ed not to recollect, that, if formidable armies hasten the final decision
of wars, they only also can render the conditions of peace honorable.
All these considerations were in a manner slighted by the bulk of the
nation. Content with what they had hitherto done, and placing
great reliance in the efficacy of French succors, they seemed in-
clined to leave to their allies the care of settling their quarrel. The
indifference which had infected all classes, was as profound as the
enthusiasm of former years had been intense. There could not have
existed a more sinister augury ; experience demonstrates that though
it be but too easy to inflame a people the first time, nothing is more
difficult than to re-kindle its ardor when once extinct. The leading
Americans, and Washington in particular, were too enlightened not
to take alarm at this state of things ; they saw the evil in all its extent,
and spared no exertions in applying such remedies as they could.
They had recourse to exhortations, to the remembrance of past ex-
ploits ; they represented the necessity of not forfeiting the respect
of the allies ; the perils that still impended ; the power and the in-
trigues of England ; all was in vain. Imbosomed in apathy, these
reckless spirits abandoned to chance the decision of their dearest in
terests ; nothing could rouse them. The recruiting of the army pro-
gressed with the most tedious slowness. The soldiers that were un
der Washington, some because they had completed their engagements,
others because they were tired of serving, deserted their colors, and
retired to their homes. And by what means were they to be re-
placed ? Scarcely a few individuals were found who would- engage,
according to the regulations of congress, for three years or till the end
212 THE AMERICAN WAR. BOOK XII.
of the war. Engagements for a shorter term coil d be of no utility
to the service, and the backwardness of the people warranted no cal-
culation even upon that resource. To draw them by lot, and con-
strain them to march, was thought, and was, in fact, too dangerous
a measure to be adopted in the present temper of minds. The same
lethargy seemed to have overspread the army itself. It was well for
it, that the English were so little enterprising.
Such was the real origin of the languor that characterized all the
operations of this year's campaign. Washington, besides, adhering
to his uniform purpose of never coming to action, except with every
probability of success, would not commit to the hazard of battles the
fate of a cause, which he considered a$ already gained. Far from
challenging the enemy, he deemed himself extremely fortunate in
not being attacked. If events had taken the direction they should
have done, he would doubtless have found some opportunity to strike
an important blow for the service and glory of his country. Perhaps
the English would not have passed the year so quietly as they did
in New York ; and perhaps Rhode Island would have fallen less
tardily under the domination of America.
The royal troops, in effect, had been much weakened in the first
months of the year, by the detachments they were obliged to make
to the West Indies and Georgia. But it almost always happens that
the most propitious occasions are lost amidst the tumult of populai
revolutions ; wherein the government, as being new, shows itself the
more feeble, as the opinions of individuals manifest themselves with
l^ss restraint, and greater violence ; and public opinion, which can
only originate from the settled order of things, as yet, has no basis.
If sometimes success attend the enterprise, it must more frequently
be imputed to chance than to calculation. Such was, at this epoch,
the condition of the people of America. If in Georgia and Carolina
some efforts were made to repel the enemy, it was principally the
work of the militia of these two provinces, whose interest was then
immediately at. stake. The others folded their arms, or contented
themselves with the adoption of spiritless measures. As if they con-
sidered themselves released from the ties of the confederation, they
made not their own cause of the danger that menaced the neighbor-
ing provinces. Nor were the Americans chargeable only with luke-
warmness, and this strange indifference to the fate of country ; there
also began to prevail among them a shameless thirst of gain, an
unbridled desire of riches, no matter by what means acquired. The
most illicit, the most disgraceful ways, were no obstacle to this
devouring passion. As it happens but too often in political revolu-
tions, there had sprung up a race cf men who sought to make their
BOOK XII. THE AMERICAN WAR. 213
private advantage of the public distress. Dependence or indepen-
dence, liberty or no liberty, were all one to them, provided they could
fatten on the substance of the state. While good citizens were
wasting themselves in camps, or in the discharge of the most
arduous functions ; while they were devoting to their country, their
time, their estates, their very existence, these insatiable robbers were
plundering, and sharing out, without a blush, the public fortune, and
private fortunes. All private contracts became the object of their
usurious interference and nefarious gains ; all army supplies enriched
them with peculations ; and the state often paid dearly for what it
never obtained. Nor let any imagine that the most sincere and
virtuous friends of their country ever made so pompous a parade of
their zeal ! To hear these vile beings, they only were animated with
a genuine and glowing patriotism. Every citizen of eminent rank, or
invested with any public authority whatever, who refused to connive
at their rapines, was immediately denounced as lukewarm, tory,
royalist, sold to England ; it would seem that the first duty of those
who governed the republic in times of such distress, was to fill the
coffers of these flaming patriots. That their own praises should
always have hung upon their lips is not to be wondered at ; for there
nas never existed a robber, who had not been first a cheat ; but
what seems really strange, and almost staggers belief, is that they
could have found partisans and dupes. This public pest spread
wider every day; it had already gangrened the very heart of the
state. The good were silenced, the corrupt plumed themselves upon
their effrontery ; every thing presaged an approaching ruin ; it was
the hope of England. Shall we attempt to penetrate the causes af
so great a change, in a nation once so distinguished for the purity of
its manners ?
It will be found, that besides the general relaxation, which war
too generally produces in the morals of the people, new govern-
ments, destitute of money, are constrained to procure it, and all their
resources at the hands of usurers. The example is contagious ; it
rapidly obtains throughout the community. These same govern-
ments find themselves compelled by the force of circumstances to
give the preference and yield much to individuals who adhere, or
pretend to adhere to their party. They accept for security in the
most important transactions, a zeal for the public good, whether real
or feigned. If it is necessary that they should welcome such sort of
beings when they present themselves, they must, for the same rea
son, be tender in punishing when they detect them in delinquency
Briefly, in such an order of things, the man of worth must, of ne
cetssity, make room for the man of naught. Not only unpunished.
214 THE AMERICAN WAR. BOOK XII,
but tolerated, but employed, but encouraged, the species rapidly mul-
tiplies. Like pestilential bodies, whose bare contact infects those
that are sound, vice soon poisons honesty in the hearts it can steal
upon.
But one of the first and most operative causes of so deplorable a
change in American morality, unquestionably lay in the depreciation
of paper money. It was such at the commencement of this year,
that eight dollars in bills could only command one in specie. The
fall of this paper was daily accelerated, as well from the continual
emissions by the congress, as by the little efficacy of the French
succors, and the disasters of Georgia. In the month of December,
a dollar in specie could hardly be obtained with forty of paper.*
Nor is there any thing surprising in this, when it is considered that,
independent of the dubious stability of the state, there was, in the
month of September, the sum of one hundred and fifty-nine millions,
nine hundred and forty-eight thousand, eight hundred and eighty-two
dollars of the paper of congress in the thirteen United States. If to
this mass be added the bills emitted by the particular provinces, it
will readily be seen how immeasurably the aggregate amount of this
sort of debt surpassed the resources of the new republic. The rapid
declension of this currency is further accounted for by the extreme
acdvity with which the loyalists and English employed fliemselves in
counterfeiting it. There often arrived from England entire chests of
those spurious bills, and so perfectly imitated that they were scarcely
to be distinguished from the genuine. The British generals, and
especially Clinton, though in reluctant obedience to the orders of the
ministry, spared no pains in disseminating them throughout the con-
tinent. It cannot be doubted, bnt that the cabinet of St. James
considered this falsification of the bills of credit, as a most effica-
cious mean for the recovery of its colonies. The British ministers
were perfectly aware that it was the only pecuniary resource at the
disposal of congress for the support of the war, and they calculated
by draining it to disarm the Americans. Unquestionably it was
neither the first time nor the last that this mode of making war has
been resorted to ; but it will always, nevertheless, be held in abhor-
rence by all good men. For public faith should always be respected,
even between enemies ; and of all perfidies is there one more fright-
ful, and especially more vile than the counterfeiting of money ? In
addition to all this, the commerce which the Americans had been
wont to carry on, by means of their products, with England and other
nations, was totally interrupted ; and as their soil and industry fur-
• The cost of a simple repast, or a pair of shoes, was from forty to fifty dollare ol
this depreciated paper.
BOOK XH. THE AMERICAN WAR. 215
nished them with but a small part of the articles essential to war,
they were under the necessity of procuring them from abroad, and
with gold and silver. Hence it resulted that specie, which even
before the war had become distressingly scarce, diminished progres-
sively, and daily advanced in price, in the ratio of its rarity. The
bills proportionably lost their value in public estimation. From their
alarming depreciation it followed not only that all purses were closed,
and that the markets, scantily, and with extreme difficulty supplied,
became the object of the continual murmurs of the people, but even
that the faith of contracts was violated, and that individual probity
was every where relaxed. With little, debtors acquitted themselves
of much towards their creditors. Very few, at first, resorted to this
unworthy expedient ; but as evil propagates itself more rapidly than
good, a multitude of citizens stained themselves with the same re-
proach, and the contagion became general. Herein the faithless
and avaricious debtor was no respecter of persons ; Washington him-
self experienced this odious return from persons he had generously
succored in their necessities.
The distress of the times had likewise given birth to another race
of men, who devoted themselves to the business of speculating upon
the depreciation of bills, dexterously profiting of a temporary rise or
fall ; and these variations of current price depended much less on
the more or less favorable posture of public affairs, than upon news
invented and circulated by those jobbers, or their intrigues and mo-
nopolies. Useful arts, and the labors of a fair commerce, were aban-
doned for the more alluring chances of paper negotiations. The
basest of men enriched themselves ; the most estimable sunk into
indigence. The finances of the state, the fortunes of individuals,
experienced the same confusion. Nor was avarice the extent of the
evil ; the contagion of that pestiferous passion attacked the very
source of every virtue. Private interest every where carried it
against the interests of the public. A greater number than it is easy
to believe, looked upon the love of country as a mere illusion, which
held out no better prospect than ruin and desolation. Nobody would
enlist without exorbitant bounty ; nobody would contract to furnish
the public supplies, none would supply the contractors, without enor-
mous profits first lodged in their hands ; none would accept of an
office or magistracy without perfect assurance of a scandalous salary
and illicit perquisites. The disorder, the depravation, were pushed
to such a point, that perhaps never was the ancient adage more de-
plorably confirmed, that there is no halting-place on the road of
corruption.
To the insatiable thirst of gold was joined the rage of party spirit ;
gl<3 THE AMERICAN WAR. HOOK XII.
even the members of congress could not escape its vortex. Hence
they too often disputed among them selves about their personal affairs,
instead of discussing the grave and important interests of the state.
When a feeble nation places itself under the patronage of one that
is powerful, and looks up to it for protection, that nation must expect
to find its bosom agitated by the tumults of party and the fury of
faction. Some citizens, more occupied with their country's interests,
or their own ambition, than the necessity of maintaining a good un-
derstanding with the more powerful nation, depart from the route
which policy would have prescribed. Unguarded in their language
and actions, they are continually liable to give umbrage to the agents
of their great ally. Others, guided by the love of their country, or
by their private interest, show themselves more feeble ; they yield
without resistance, they flatter and caress. Each of these parties is
equally in error. The first, pluming themselves in vain upon the
name of independents, cannot in all respects assume the manners it
implies, when they have an indispensable need of a tutelary support.
The second omit to reflect that their excessive condescension does
but embolden their ally to crave without measure as without end.
To observe a just medium between these extremes, requires a con-
summate prudence. The latter class are, of course, by far the most
agreeable to the agents of the guardian power ; they find them
docile instruments, and if, as too often happens, assailable on the
side of avarice, or ambition, prompt to serve as spies, as informers,
as tools, whose base devotion no longer knows a check. The con-
trast nnd rivalship of these two factions soon degenerate into open
war. The one reproaches the other with sacrificing the state to their
cupidity, with betraying it, selling it to their protectors ; with no
longer having a country save that of their new masters ; they load
them with contempt and execration. These answer their adversa-
ries that an ill-timed arrogance may deprive the state of an indis-
pensable prop ; that it will be time enough to put on airs of indepen-
dence when it is actually achieved ; that in all their discussions, wise
men, and especially statesmen, describe a curve, when a right line
leads to a precipice ; that affairs of state should not be swayed by
the self love of individuals ; that in policy the most useful is always
the most honorable ; and, finally, that no one ought to blush when
he attains the object of his aim. Such was the language of the
more moderate among those called dependents. But others, hurried
away by the spirit of party, or wishing to disguise their baseness,
exclaimed aloud that the Independents were the enemies of France;
that they were friends of England ; with her they kept up a trai-
BOOK XII. THE AMERICAN WAR. 217
torous correspondence ; to her they betrayed the secrets of the
state ; that they would fain violate the faith of treaties, and dissolve
the alliance solemnly concluded with the French, in order to listen
to the proposals of England, and throw themselves into her arms.
It is to be observed, in effect, that at this very time, the British
ministers were laboring incessantly to seduce the chiefs of the Amer-
ican government with new offers of peace, even at the acknowledg-
ment of independence. The scope of this conduct might have
been to excite the jealousy of France, or to foment factions in Amer-
ica, or perhaps really to obtain peace and alliance with the United
States.
However it was, these overtures had in part the effect which the
British cabinet probably had expected; they were but too well
seconded by a species of men who find their proper element in con-
fusion ; and intestine dissensions agitated every part of the American
continent. Not private citizens only, but the very members of the
government, applied themselves with infinitely more ardor to pull
each other to pieces, than to the discharge of their duties. These
seeds of discord had long been germinating ; they developed them-
selves with still greater rapidity, when Silas Deane returned to the
United States aboard the squadron of the count d'Estaing. At first
commercial agent of America in Europe, he had been one of the
three commissioners who had signed the treaty of alliance at Paris
Secretly irritated at having been recalled, in haste to turn accuse?
before being accused himself, and careful to make his court to the
French, he declared every where, and afterwards printed, that tho
congress would not hear the report of his mission to Paris ; that •
they refused to adjust his accounts ; that Arthur Lee, one of the thfee
commissioners, William Lee, American consul in Europe, and their
two brothers, members of congress, kept up a secret correspondence
with England ; that they, and all their adherents, endeavored in va-
rious ways to disgust the court of France, and especially in opposing
the reimbursement to particular Frenchmen of sums which they
had expended at the commencement of the war in the purchase of
arms and military stores for account of America. That they were
now intriguing to displace Franklin, as they had before attempted to
pull down Washington ; that, in a word, they had conspired to
change men and things, and to give another direction to the policy of
the state. The writing which Deane published and distributed with
profusion, in the month of December, 1778, produced a vehement
stir ; the spirit of party eagerly seized this new subject of discord
and hatred. The brothers Lee answered with moderation ; but
Thomas Paine and William Dray ton stepped forwaid to avenge them
218 THE AMERICAN WAR- BOOK XII.
roundly. They retorted upon Deane, that the congress not only
consented to hear him, but that they had already heard him, and had
notified him that they were ready to give him audience anew ; that
if they had not passed his accounts, it was for want of verifications ;
Deane having himself, either through forgetfulness or design, left'
them behind in France ; that if Arthur Lee kept up a correspon-
dence with England, he was sufficiently authorized in it by his char-
acter of ambassador ; that during his residence at Paris, he had ad-
dressed the congress letters incomparably more able, luminous, and
fraught with intelligence, than those of his calumniator, who had
never written a word of any solidity ; that the friendship of a power
so generous as France could be better preserved by an erect and no-
ole deportment, than by a servile adulation towards its agents ; that
if the reimbursement of those Frenchmen who had furnished arms
and munitions had not been yet effected, it was because that Deane
himself, in concert with the other commissioners of congress, had
written that no payment was to be made for these supplies, which
were to be considered as the voluntary gifts of zealous friends of
America ; that no thought had ever been entertained of recalling
Franklin, because it was perfectly well known how much the advices
furnished by that estimable man, as well as the contracts he had made
in France, differed from every thing in the correspondence and op-
erations of Silas Deane ; that neither was it forgotten what difference
of manners and pretensions existed between those Frenchmen who
had treated with Franklin for an engagement in the American ser-
vice, and those whom Deane had sent out to America ; that no one
could better judge than himself whether the facts recapitulated were
likely to redound to his honor ; that, as for the rest, it little became
Deane to call up the intrigues, real or supposed, of which Wash-
ington had been the object, since himself, when he resided at Paris
as agent for the congress, had suggested for serious deliberation,
whether it would not be advantageous to confide the supreme com-
mand of the American troops to one of the most distinguished gen-
erals of Europe, as for example, to prince Ferdinand, or Mareschal
de Broglie ; that it was right and proper to keep the faith pledged to
France, but that it was right and proper also, agreeably to the usage
of all states, to hear the propositions, and to receive the overtures,
which promised to promote the welfare of the country, from what-
ever qaarter they might come.
The tenor of the paragraphs published by Paine and Drayton was
far from being agreeable to Gerard, the minister of France ; he no-
ticed with pain the avowal of negotiations kept up with England,
and the declaration of a refusal to liquidate the disbursements made
BOOK XII. THE AMERICAN WAR. 219
by his countrymen. He addressed very energetic complaints to the
congress ; in order to appease him, that assembly declared that they
disapproved the contents of the published memorials, and that they
were convinced that the supplies furnished by certain French indi-
viduals could not be considered as a gift. The congress had, in
truth, been made debtor for them in the accounts presented, whether
the intention of those who furnished them had never been to offer
them as a mere donative, or that Deane had made them the object
of a sordid speculation. Opinions were then much divided on that
point. The congress, moreover, renewed the declaration that the
United States would never conclude either peace or truce with Great
Britain, without the formal and previous consent of their august ally.
Thomas Paine requested and obtained leave to resign the office he
filled, of secretary of congress for the foreign department. The
government either was, or pretended to be dissatisfied with him, for
the disclosure he had made, in this discussion, of facts which it
would rather have kept still under the veil.
So many elements of discord would perhaps have sufficed to
kindle civil war in America, if its inhabitants had been less familiar-
ized with liberty. Their attention was, besides, taken up by two
important objects ; one was the imminent peril to which the two
Carolinas were exposed a short time after, in consequence of the
siege of Charleston by sir Henry Clinton ; the other, the negotiations
opened with Spain, and soon afterwards, the active rart she toolf in
the war. The court of Madrid, as we have already seen, glowed
with a desire to interfere in the grand quarrel which had just broken
out. Besides the mutual hat ed which animated the English and
Spanish nations, Spain* had also in view to humble the odious British
arrogance, to recover Gibraltar and Jamaica, and to conquer the
two Floridas, which appeared to her essential to the entire command
of the gulf of Mexico. She was now also stimulated by France,
who, not content with representing to her the common interest she
had in this war, pressed her and summoned her every day to fulfill
the stipulations of the family compact. Meanwhile, particular con-
siderations pointed her to a more circumspect procedure. American
independence could scarcely seem to smile upon her entirely, when
she reflected on the contagion of example, and her own colonies.
Her backwardness to declare herself was also perhaps concerted
with France, in order to obtain better conditions from the Americans.
The court of Versailles had regretted to find itself constrained to
take a decisive step, after the unexpected victory of general Gates,
which had started the apprehension that England would consent, for
the sake of reconciliation with her colonies, to acknowledge their
220 THE AMERICAN WAR. BOOK XII.
independence. France would much rather have persisted in her
original plan, and stood aloof still for a long time, waiting for the
Americans to be reduced to the last extremity, in order to wring
from them more advantageous conditions for herself, than those of
*he two treaties of commerce and alliance. But the success of the
Americans having baffled her designs, she still had in reserve the
chance of making them pay around price for the accession of Spain.
With this drift, she magnified excessively the advantages they might
expect from it, in order to extort from their impatience, what precip-
itation had defeated her of at the time of her own declaration.
The ultimate object of all these maneuvers, was to secure to the
subjects of France, in the future treaty of peace, the fisheries of
Newfoundland, to the exclusion of the citizens of the United States ;
and to Spain, the possession of the two Floridas, the exclusive navi-
gation of the Mississippi, with the sovereignty of the regions situated
on the left bank of that river, and behind the frontiers of the confed-
erate provinces. Accordingly, to prove to the Americans how
strong an interest he took in their cause, and to Europe, according
to usage, his ardent desire to preserve peace, the king of Spain
offered his mediation. He considered it, moreover, as a justificative
measure of the war he was about to undertake, for he was by no
means ignorant that England would not accept it. The court of
London knew too well that Spain, united to France by the strictest
ties, could not be an impartial mediatrix ; it knew also, that media-
tors of this description always finish with becoming declared enemies.
The court of Madrid intending also to establish, as the basis of the
negotiation for peace, that Great Britain should treat her colonies as
independent, it was not presumable that she would accept a condi-
tion which was precisely the principal point in contest. Neverthe-
less, the marquis d'Almadovar, his catholic majesty's ambassador,
presented to the court of London a plan of accommodation, which
contained, besides the article above, those which follow. That, in
order the more easily to extinguish the flames of war, the crowns of
France and of Great Britain should lay down arms and consent to a
general truce ; that their respective plenipotentiaries should convene
at a place agreed upon, for the purpose of adjusting their differences ;
that Great Britain should grant a like truce to the American colo-
nies ; that a line of boundary should be drawn, which neither of the
belligerent parties might transcend during the armistice ; that both
his Britannic majesty and the colonies should send one or more
commissioners to the city of Madrid, in order to consent to the pre-
. ceding conditions, and all such others as might tend to conciliation.
To this offer of mediation the British ministers made onlv evasive
BOOK XII. THE AMERICAN WAR. 321
and dilatory answers. If they were not disposed to accept it, since
it involved the acknowledgment of independence, they avoided also
to reject it too ostensibly, as well not to excite the discontent of their
nation, as to gain time to open negotiations with the courts of
Europe. Their intention was to offer advantageous conditions to
France, in order to detach her from America, and to America, in
order to detach her from France. And, in case, as they presumed,
these negotiations should fail of success, they purposed to use strenu-
ous endeavors with the other powers, in order to excite some move-
ment in Europe against France. They hoped thus to find her so
much employment on shore, that she would be obliged to neglect her
marine, and that it would of course become an easy task to vanquish
it. They conceived also, that when America should see her ally
engaged in a new struggle, she would show herself more disposed to
enter into an arrangement with England. Such was then the policy
of the powers at war, and of those that were inclined to take part
therein.
Meanwhile, France and Spain, with a view of obtaining from
America the conditions which, since her separation with England,
were the main scope of their counsels, notified to the congress,
through M. Gerard, the French minister at Philadelphia, the offer
of mediation made to the court of London by that of Madrid. He
was directed to observe, that the object of all mediation being peace,
it was natural to presume that conferences were about to be opeiied
for its negotiation and conclusion. He invited the congress to ap-
point plenipotentiaries to take part in these negotiations, whether
with England or with Spain ; he also urged the expediency of their
making known the basis on which they were disposed to treat. He
added, that he felt it his duty to intimate that circumstances did not
permit the United States to carry their pretensions higher than their
fortune ; that, consequently, it was desirable that they should be
moderate in their demands, in order not to furnish England with a
pretext for standing out, and that Spain might be enabled to prose-
cute her mediation to a successful conclusion. ' As to the acknowl-
edgment of American independence,' continued the French minister,
' it is to be expected that Great Britain, out of that pride which
sovereigns have, and which it becomes them to have, will manifest
an extreme repugnance to making it in form. This case has been
provided for in the treaty of alliance, where it is stipulated that its
object is to obtain for the United States independence, whether
express or implied. France knows, by her own experience, what it
costs monarchs to proclaim in formal terms the independence of
those they have once governed as subject? Spain, in preceding
£22 THE AMERICAN '•VAR. BOOK Xlf.
ages, did but tacitly acknowledge the independence of Holland, aftei
a war of thirty years, and not formally till after a resistance of
seventy. Up to this very time, the republic of Geneva and the
thirteen Swiss Cantons have not as yet been able to obtain from the
states of which they made part, an express acknowledgment of their
independence and sovereignty. As for the rest, since you enjoy the
object of your wishes, you ought to attach very little importance to
mere words.' It is to be remarked, thai the French minister affected
to be much in earnest in his efforts to bring over the Americans to
this way of thinking, because he was convinced that they would
not adopt it ; and that therefore to induce France and Spain to exact
on their behalf an express acknowledgment of independence, they
would acquiesce in whatever demands those powers might choose to
make.
In order to confirm them the more in the refusal of what he
demanded, he took care to remind them that the United States
appeared to him, from their situation and the vigor of their resis-
tance, to have higher claims than ever Holland, Geneva, and Swit-
zerland could have made any pretensions to. Fearing, however,
the insufficiency of these means to decide the Americans to yield
the desired concessions, he proceeded to suggest, that not only was
it necessary to enable the mediator by the moderation of their de-
mands to inspire England with pacific dispositions, but that it was
moreover expedient to offer the mediator such advantages as might
determine him to make common cause with France and America,
in case Great Britain should refuse peace. He extolled the power
of the triple alliance that was meditated, and represented it as the
guaranty of certain triumph. He set forth that though the arms of
France and America were indeed capable of resisting those of the
enemy, the junction of the forces of Spain could alone render them
preponderant, and prevent the catastrophe which might result from
a single sinister event ; that hitherto the balance had been equal be-
tween the two parties, but that a new weight was necessary to make
it turn in favor of the Americans. The French minister closed this
declaration with a disclosure of the pretensions of his court with re-
spect to the fishery of Newfoundland, and those of Spain relative to
the 'two Floridas, the Mississippi, and the western territory, which
now forms the state of Kentucky. The congress deliberated upon
these communications. They considered, on the one hand, that
the intervention of Spain was very desirable for America ; but on
the other, that she held it at too high a rate. They consequently
feh the utmost repugnance to subscribe to all the concessions which
the courts of Versailles and Madrid appeared disposed to wrest from
BOOK XII. THE AMERICAN WAR. 223
them. Very warm debates ensued upon these different points. All
the members consented to guaranty to Spain the possession of tho
two Floridas, but also refused to grant her the exclusive naviga-
tion of the Mississippi ; the relinquishment of the western territory
was objected to by many, and that of the Newfoundland fishery al-
most universally, especially on the part of the New England deputies.
Beside this extreme diversity of opinions, a powerful motive prevent-
ed the Americans from taking any definitive resolution ; they had
penetrated, that such was the eagerness of the Spaniards to come to
blows with the English, that in any event, it could not be long before
a rupture must take place between the two nations. In effect the
congress consumed so much time in answering, in appointing plen-
ipotentiaries, and in preparing their instructions, that hostilities were
already commenced between these powers, not only in Europe, but
also in America.
By the beginning of August, don Bernard Galvez, governor of
Louisiana, for the king of Spain, had undertaken with success an
expedition against the British possessions upon the Mississippi. This
news, and still much more, the certain intelligence that the same don
Galvez had solemnly proclaimed the independence of the United
States at New Orleans, caused the Americans to drop at once all
further thought of concession. Notwithstanding the hostilities now
commenced between Spain and England, the French minister per-
sisted in maintaining that England manifested pacific dispositions,
and that the cabinets of Versailles and Madrid were more than ever
animated by the same sentiments. But enlightened by what passed
before their eyes, the Americans instructed their plenipotentiary at
the court of France, as also the one destined to treat with that of
London, to keep steadily in view that the first object of the defensive
war waged by the allies, was to establish the independence of the
United States; that consequently the preliminary basis of all negotia-
tion with Great Britain must be the acknowledgment of the freedom,
independence and sovereignty of the said states, which acknowledg-
ment must be secured and guarantied according to the form and
stipulations of the treaty of alliance with his most Christian majesty.
As to the right of fishery upon the banks of Newfoundland, the
Americans insisted that it should be preserved to them, with the
clause that if they were disquieted by England in its exercise, France
should consider it as case of alliance. They further enjoined their
plenipotentiaries to use all possible exertions to obtain from England
the cession of Canada and Nova Scotia, in favor of the United States,
observing, however, that the rejection of this proposition should
not be an obstacle to the re-establishment, of peace The idea of this
224 THE AMERICAN WAK. BOOK XII.
last demand had been suggested by the deputies of Massachusetts,
and other provinces of New England. The plenipotentiaries were
authorized to agree to a suspension of arms during the continuance
of the negotiations, with the reservation, however, that the ally of
the United States should likewise consent to it, and that the troops
of the enemy should entirely evacuate their territory. Such was the
substance of the instructions given to the American plenipotentiaries ;
as to the rest, they were to be guided by their own wisdom, the laws
of the confederation, and the counsels of the court of France.
The war being already actually commenced between Spain and
England, the chevalier de la Luzerne^ who succeeded M. Gerard at
Philadelphia, could no longer urge with the congress the advantages
and necessity of the co-operation of the Spanish force, as a motive
for their yielding the above mentioned concessions. But he did not
omit to place in the strongest light all the benefits which would result
to the United States from connecting themselves with the court
of Madrid by treaties of commerce and alliance, which should regu-
late their common and respective interests, whether present or future.
' It is evident,' he said, ' that Spain will display more vigorous ef-
forts against England, when she knows the advantage that is to ac-
crue to herself from a war undertaken chiefly for the utility and in
terests of the United States. On the other hand, it is no less man-
ifest, how extremely it interests the honor and consolidation of the
republic to have its independence formally acknowledged by so great
and powerful a monarch as his catholic majesty, and to be united to
him by treaties of amity and alliance. An alliance,' he added, ' than
which nothing could more gratify his most Christian majesty, who,
united to the king of Spain by the most sacred ties, and to America
by the bonds of the tenderest friendship, could not but desire with
ardor to see the most complete and durable harmony established be-
tween them.' The French minister expatiated largely upon this sub-
ject, adding still other arguments drawn from public law.
All his efforts were vain. The congress saw too clearly that if
Spain took part in the war, it was neither out of regard for the inter-
ests, nor for the independence of America, which in the present
state of things was no longer a matter of doubt, but for her own sake,
and particularly to reduce the maritime power of England. Accord-
ingly? they showed themselves little disposed to make new sacrifices.
Wishing, however, to testify their desire to form alliance with the
king of Spain, they appointed John Jay their minister plenipotentiary
to the court of Madrid. His instructions were to endeavor to dis-
pose that court to be satisfied with a mere treaty of amity and com-
merce with the United States. He was, moreover, directed to declare,
BOOK XII. THE AMERICAN WAR. 225
that if his catholic majesty entered into the league against Great Brit-
ain, the United States would consent that ne should secure for himself
the possession of the Floridas ; and even, if England gave her consent
to it in the treaty of peace, the United States would guaranty him this
new acquisition with the condition that they should continue to enjoy
the navigation of the Mississippi to the sea. As to the territory situ-
ated on the eastern bank of the river, they declared that it could not
be renounced. The minister of congress was likewise to solicit the
king of France, as the chief of the alliance, to employ his mediation
in order to accelerate the conclusion of the treaties with Spain. He
was charged with some other demands at the court of Madrid. But
piqued at the refusal of congress to consent to the stipulations which
she had most at heart, Spain not only demonstrated on her part a
disposition equally unyielding, but after having declared war against
Great Britain, she would neither acknowledge the independence of
the United States, nor receive nor send ambassadors. At the same
time in which Jay was appointed plenipotentiary to the court of Ma-
drid, John Adams was elected minister plenipotentiary to negotiate
a treaty of peace and commerce with England.
Such was, then, the situation of affairs in America. In Europe
they took the direction which had been foreseen by all prudent men,
and which was desired even by those who pretended a wish to attain
an opposite object. Spain had completed her maritime armaments ;
she was arrived at the point where she had purposed to throw off the
mask. She wanted to take an open part in the war ; and joining her
forces with those of France, to aim such rapid blows at the excessive
naval power of England, as should transfer to the Bourbons the
scepter of the sea. She would fain have a plausible pretext to justify
her conduct. She accordingly resolved to renew her offers of medi-
ation at the court of London, and to urge the British government in
such a manner, that it should at length be constrained to declare itself
the first. The marquis d'Almodovar, the Spanish minister at Lon-
don, made, in the month of June, the most pressing instances to the
British ministry, in order to extort a definitive answer. The moment
seemed the better chosen, as it was already known that the count
d'Orvilliers had sailed from Brest with the whole French armament,
and was standing to the south in order to join, near the isle of Cizar-
ga, with the Spanish fleet, which lay, in excellent condition, expect-
ing him in those waters. The two allied courts felt yet more confirmed
in their resolution, when they saw the English marine in no situation
to balance their united forces. Whether from absolute necessity, or
from negligence on the part of ministers, it is certain that the arma-
ments of England at this period were very far inferior to her dangers.
VOL. II. 15
226 THE AMERICAN WAR. BOOK XII.
She answered, nevertheless, that she could not admit the condition
of independence, even with the modifications proposed by Spain.
The Spanish minister then departed from London, after having de-
livered a declaration to lord Weymouth, secretary of state. This
rescript recapitulated, beside the rejection of the mediation, several
other motives of war, such as insults offered at sea to the Spanish
flag, hostile incursions upon the lands of the king, instigations to the
savages to infest the Spanish subjects of Louisiana, the violation of
the rights of his catholic majesty in the bay of Honduras, and other
like grievances. The court of London answered by a counter dec-
laration, in which it endeavored, as usual, to destroy all the asser-
tions of that of Madrid. The king of England recalled lord Grant-
ham, his ambassador in Spain. He afterwards issued a proclama-
tion of reprisals on that power, and another regulating the distribu-
tion of prizes. At the same time, France, as the preponderant and
leading part of the alliance, published a manifesto, in which she laid
before the eyes of Europe the motives which had constrained the
two allied courts to take up arms.
These motives, detailed at great length, may be reduced to the
following points ; the necessity of avenging injuries received, and
the desire, certainly sincere, to put down the tyrannical empire which
England had usurped, and pretended to maintain upon the ocean.
The king of Spain likewise published different official papers. Two
royal cedulas demonstrated to the nation the necessity and justice
of the war. They were followed by a very prolix manifesto, which
advanced a hundred causes of rupture with Great Britain ; the
greater part had been already announced in the declaration of the
marquis d'Almodovar. It was added in this, and represented as a
direct outrage, that at the very time when the British ministers re-
jected the propositions openly made by Spain, as mediatrix, they
had employed secret agents to make the most alluring offers to the
court of France, if she would abandon the colonies and conclude a
separate peace with England. < At the same epoch,' said the mani-
festo, c the British cabinet had clandestinely dispatched another agent
to doctor Franklin at Paris. Divers propositions were made to that
minister, in order to detach the Americans from France, and bring
them to an arrangement with Great Britain. The British govern-
ment offers them conditions not only similar to those it has disdained
and rejected when they proceeded from the part of his catholic maj-
esty, but much more favorable still.' The first wrongs specified,
that is, the insults on the Spanish flag, the hostile incursions upon
the king's territory, and the unjust decrees of courts of admiralty,
might have obtained a sufficient reparation, if , the two parties had
BOOK XII. THE AMERICAN WAR. 227
been at that time less animated with enmity towards each other. As
to the reproach of duplicity imputed to the British ministers with
respect to their conduct during the discussions of the mediation, if
the historian cannot positively applaud them, he will find at least
that it is difficult -to blame them for it, and still more so to discover
in it a sufficient ground of war. In effect, these political wiles, far
from being new or extraordinary, are but too frequent ; all states-
men, and especially those who employ them, consider such means,
if not honorable, at least allowable for attaining their ends. But, as
we have already observed, the primary and capital motive, to which
all the others did little more than serve as a veil, was the wish to de-
stroy the maritime superiority of England. The king of Spain even
made the avowal of it, herein also imitating the candor of the king
of France. He formally declared in his manifesto, that in order to
obtain a durable peace, it was necessary to set bounds to the im-
moderate power of England by sea, and to demonstrate the falsity of
those principles upon which she founded her usurpation^. He con-
cluded with observing, that the other maritime powers, and all the
nations of the universe, were interested in the triumph of so equita-
ble a cause. This argument was no doubt as just as it was noble ;
but it would have been more honorable still, if the tyrannical domi-
nation of England, about which so much noise was then made, had
not been, not only peaceably tolerated for a long series of years, but
even formally acknowledged. The king of Great Britain replied
with another manifesto, wherein no little address was displayed in re-
futing the assertions of the two kings, his enemies. It closed with
the most energetic, but the most ordinary protestations of his regard
for humanity. Since these pompous declamations have been brought
into use between the governments of civilized nations, is it found
that wars are become less frequent, or less destructive ?
While the two belligerent parties were endeavoring to justify their
conduct in the sight of the universe, while each of the kings was
protesting that he had not been the first disturber of peace, the fleets
of France and Spain presented themselves with formidable parade
upon the coasts of Great Britain. They consisted of sixty-six ships
of the line, comprehending a Spaniard of one hundred and fourteen
guns, the San Trinidad, two Frenchmen of one hundred and ten,
and one hundred and four, the Bretagne and the Ville, de Paris,
eight others of eighty, and fifteen of seventy-four ; the rest of less
force. This immense armada Was followed by a cloud of frigates,
corvettes, cutters, and fire ships. It was commanded in chief by
the count d'Orvilliers, who mounted the Bretagne ; the vanguard
was under the conduct of the count de Guichen, and the rear
228 THE AMERICAN WAR. BOOK XIJ.
under the conduct of don Gaston. The vanguard was itself pre-
ceded by a light squadron commanded by M. de la Touche Tre-
ville, and composed of five swift sailing ships, and all the frigates
which were not attached to the first divisions. The object of this squad-
ron was to discover and announce whatever should appear at sea.
Finally, the armament was followed by another squadron of observa-
tion, composed of sixteen ships of the line, at the orders of don Lewis
de Cordova. The design of the allies was, according to appear-
ances, to make a descent upon that part of the coasts of Great
Britain which they should find the most conveniently accessible.
Every thing seemed to conspire in their favor ; even the importance
of the enterprise, the immensity of their forces, the defenseless con-
dition of Ireland, the inferiority of the British marine, the weakness
of the regular troops that remained for the defense of England, since
the .greater part had been sent to America and the West Indies.
Beside this fleet, one of the most tremendous which the ocean had
ever borne, three hundred transports were prepared at Havre de
Grace, St. Malo, and other ports on that coast. All was in move-
ment in the northern provinces of France. Upwards of forty thou-
sand men lined the coasts of Normandy and Britanny ; many other
regiments were on the march to join them from other parts of the
kingdom. The king appointed the generals who were to conduct
the expedition. The troops, who were already assembled upon the
coasts that looked towards England, daily exercised themselves in
the various maneuvers of embarkation and debarkation. Each
soldier manifested the most eager desire to set foot on the opposite
shore, in order to combat and prostrate an ancient rival. An artil-
lery as numerous as well served, was attached to this army ; five
thousand grenadiers, the flower of the French troops, had been
drawn from all the regiments, to form the vanguard, and strike the
first blows.
England was seasonably apprised of the preparations of France,
and the invasion with which she was menaced. The ministers had
promptly directed all the measures of defense, which the shortness
of time and the present state of the kingdom admitted ; they had
assembled thirty-eight ships of the line, under the command of ad-
miral sir Charles Hardy, and had sent him to cruise in the Bay of Bis-
cay, in order, if still possible, to prevent the junction of the two
hostile fleets. It is difficult to comprenend, that armaments which
occupied so vast an extent of sea, and whose light squadrons were
reciprocally on the look out, should not have encountered,.or come
lo any knowledge the one of the other. The king of England issued
a proclamation, informing his subjects that the enemy threatened to
BOOK XII. THE AMERICAN WAR. 229
invade the kingdom. The officers in command upon the coasts were
ordered to stand on the alert, and at the first appearance of danger to
remove the cattle and provisions to a proper distance. The militia
exercised continually in arms, and held themselves in readiness to
march to the places of debarkation. The royal guards themselves
expected every moment the order to march. All minds were
strongly excited at the danger of the country ; but amidst the senti-
ments of fear and hope which agitated them, the resolution to resist
valiantly was general.
Meanwhile, the combined fleet, which had been detained a long
time by calms at the entrance of the channel, all at once made its
appearance there, the fifteenth of August ; it presented itself before
Plymouth with dread display. The alarm was immediately spread
among the inhabitants of the coasts ; the militia flew to their post ;
the guards were doubled at the arsenals of Plymouth and Portsmouth.
The bank in the latter town was closed ; all commerce was suspend-
ed. From all parts of the coast of Cornwall, whole families were
seen flying towards the inland countries with their most valuable
effects. A new incident added to the universal panic. The Ardent
ship of the line, of sixty-four guns, which had sailed from Ports-
mouth, in order to join the fleet of Admiral Hardy, fell into the hands
of the French in view of Plymouth. During this time the British
admiral was standing off and on near the mouth of the channel ; his
inferiority, and the position of the enemy, not permitting him to
bring succor to his country, amidst the perils that menaced it. But
what men could not do, was operated by chance. At the moment
when the success of this great enterprise was going to be decided,
all at once there sprung up a violent gale from the northeast, which
forced the combined fleet to quit the channel for the open sea. The
gale having abated, it displayed itself anew from the Lands End and
the Scilly islands to the chops of the channel, with intent to inter-
cept admiral Hardy, and to prevent his retreat into the ports of Eng-
land. Nevertheless, he profited with so much ability of a favorable
wind, that on the thirty- first of August he made good his entrance
into the channel in full view of the allies, who could not hinder him.
His design was, to entice them up to the narrowest part of the strait,
where the superiority of numbers would avail them little, and the
advantage of position would thus compensate the inequality of forces.
The allies followed him as far as Plymouth. Each of the hostile
fleets preserved the best order ; the British, to avoid being approach-
ed till after having arrived at the desirable point, and to be always
prepared to fall upon such of the enemy's vessels as should chase
them too near ; the French and Spaniards, to keep together, and to
230 THE AMERICAN WAR. BOOK XII.
gain Plymouth before the enemy. But admiral Hardy having eluded
all the projects of his adversary, the count d'Orvilliers decided to
retire from the coasts of England, and return to Brest. His retreat
was attributed at the time to several causes, such as the continued
prevalence of east winds, the want of provisions, the proximity of
the equinox, and the great sickness and mortality among his crews,
by which some of the ships were totally disabled.
Such was the issue of an expedition which seemed to portend the
downfall of a most powerful empire. If there never had been so
great a naval force assembled on the seas, so never were effects less
answerable to appearances. Enfeebled by the loss of more than
five thousand sailors, victims of the epidemic, the combined fleet
could attempt no enterprise during the rest of the campaign. It
followed that the weaker gathered those fruits which the stronger
might reasonably have expected. Not only the numerous fleets
of British merchantmen, loaded with the riches of the two Indies,
arrived happily in the ports of Great Britain, but the squadron of
Hardy put to sea again, and captured a multitude of French and
Spanish vessels. Europe was astonished ; she had not expected
that so many preparations and such mighty efforts were to end in this
wise. The glory of the British marine thus acquired a new luster.
The allies had, assuredly, shown no want either of ability or of
valor ; but the greater part of men judge of merit by success, and
the arms of the enemies of England lost much of their splendor.
But whatever might be the causes which prevented the great nava.
armaments of the belligerent powers from coming to a decisive ac-
tion, a few days after their retreat several partial combats were en-
gaged, in which the French, the English, and the Americans seemed
to vie for the palm of deep and desperate valor. The count d'Or-
villiers had sent out from Brest, to observe the movements of the
British fleet, the frigate Surveillante, commanded by the chevalier
du Couedic, and the cutter Expedition, at the orders of the viscount
de Roquefeuil. These two vessels fell in, near the isle of Ouessant,
with the British frigate Quebec, captain Farmer, accompanied also
by a sloop called the Rambler. The two parties immediately en-
gaged with fury. The forces, skill, and bravery being equal on botn
sides, the action lasted three hours and a half. The frigates fought
so close that several times their yards got entangled. Their artillery
had already made a frightful ravage ; the decks were covered with
dead and wounded, their masts shivered and shot away ; they could
no longer be steered. Nor one nor other, however, seemed disposed
to retire or surrender. The French captain received a wound in
the head, and fainted ; but on recovering sense, he immediately re-
BOOK XII THE AMERICAN WAR. 231
sumed the command. Two fresh wounds in the belly could not
constrain him to give over ; on the contrary he gave orders for board-
ing. Captain Farmer displayed, on his part, an invincible courage.
To smooth the way for boarding, the French threw a great quantity
of grenades aboard the Quebec. Her sails took fire ; the flames
spread, and soon caught other parts of the ship. The English ex-
erted themselves to extinguish them, and obstinately refused to strike.
The chevalier du Couedic, to avoid the combustion, was forced to
think of retiring, which he with difficulty accomplished. His bow-
sprit got embarrassed with the rigging of the enemy. At length
the fire took the magazine of the British frigate, and she blew up,
with her colors waving to the last.
The French captain, with an example of humanity that cannot be
honored enough, devoted all his cares to saving the greatest possible
number of his enemies, who, to escape the flames, threw themselves
headlong into the sea. Only forty-three of them could be rescued
from the waves, the sole survivors of three hundred men who com-
posed the company of the Quebec. Captain Farmer was swallowed
up with the wreck of his ship. The French frigate was unable to
move ; the cutter Expedition disengaged herself from the Rambler,
which she had combated with advantage, in order to succor the
Surveillante. She took her in tow, and brought her the following
day into the port of Brest. The French government, faithful to
its own examples, and those of civilized nations, sent free to Eng-
land the forty-three Englishmen, not willing to retain those prison
ers, who, in the same day, had escaped the fury of men, cannon,
fire and water. The French had forty killed and a hundred wound-
ed. The king promoted the chevalier du Couedic to the rank of
captain of a ship. But he could not long enjoy the glorious repu-
tation which his valor and humanity had acquired him ; his wounds
proved mortal three days after the engagement. He was deeply
regretted in France ; his name was pronounced with distinction
throughout Europe, but no where with warmer eulogium than in
England.
A few days before, the coasts of Great Britain had witnessed a.
combat no less sanguinary , and no less honorable for the two parties.
Paul Jones, a Scotchman by birth, but engaged in the service of the
United States, had established his cruise at first in the seas of Ire-
land, and afterwards in those of Scotland, where he was waiting for
an opportunity to make some prize, or, according to his practice, to
land upon some point of the coast in order to sack the country.
His flotilla was composed of the Bonhomme Richard, of forty guns,
the Alliance, of thirty-six, both American ships ; the Pallas, a French
232 THE AMERICAN WAR. BOOK XII.
frigate of thirty-two, in the pay of congress, with two other smaller
vessels. He fell in with a British merchant fleet, on its return from
the Baltic, convoyed by captain Pearson, with the frigate Serapis, of
forty-four guns, and the Countess of Scarborough, of twenty.
Pearson had no sooner perceived Jones, than he bore down to
engage him, while the merchantmen endeavored to gain the coast.
The American flotilla formed to receive him. The two enemies
joined battle at about seven in the evening, with great resolution, and
the conflict was supported on both sides with equal valor. The
Serapis had the advantage of metal and maneuver; to obviate
which, Jones took the resolution to fight her closer. He advanced
till the two frigates were engaged yard to yard, and their sides so
near that the muzzles of their guns came in contact. In this posi-
tion they continued to fight from eight in the evening till ten, with an
audacity boidering on frenzy. But the artillery of the Americans
was no longer capable of producing much effect. The Richard,
having received several heavy shot between wind and water, could
now make no use whatever of her lower batteries, and two or three
of her upper guns had burst, to the destruction of those who served
them. Jones, at length, had only three left that could be worked, and
he employed them against the masts of the hostile frigate. Seeing
the little impression made by chain shot, he resorted to another
mode of attack. He threw a vast quantity of grenades and fire
works on board the British frigate. But his own now admitted the
water on all sides$ and threatened every moment to go to the bottom.
Some of his officers, having perceived it, asked him if he would
surrender ? ' No,' he answered them in a tremendous tone, and
continued to push the grenades. The Serapis was already on fire
in several places ; the English could with difficulty extinguish the
flames. Finally, they caught a cartridge, which, in an instant, fired
all the others with a horrible explosion. All who stood near the
helm were killed, and all the cannon of that part were dismounted.
Meanwhile, Pearson was not disheartened ; he ordered his people to
board. Paul Jones prepared himself to repulse them. The Eng-
lish, in jumping on board him, found the Americans ready to receive
them on the point of their pikes ; 4hey made the best of their way
back to their own vessel. But during this interval, the fire had com-
municated itself from the Serapis to the Bonhomme Richard, and
both were a prey to the flames. No peril could shake these despe-
rate men. The night was dark, the combatants could no longer see
each other but by the blaze of the conflagration, and through dense
volumes of smoke, while the sea was illuminated afar. At this mo-
ment, the American frigate Alliance came up. Amidst the confusion
BOOK XII. THE AMERICAN WAR. 233
she discharged her broadside into the Richard, and killed a part of
her remaining defenders. As soon as she discovered her mistake,
she fell with augmented fury upon the Serapis. Then the valiant
Englishman, seeing a great part of his crew either killed or disabled,
his artillery dismounted, his vessel dismasted, and quite enveloped
in flames, surrendered. All joined to extinguish the fire, and at
length it was accomplished. The efforts made to stop the numer-
ous leaks of the Richard proved less fortunate ; she sunk the next
morning. Out of three hundred and seventy-five men that were
aboard that vessel, three hundred were killed or wounded. The
English had but forty-nine killed, and their wounded amounted to
no more than sixty-eight. History, perhaps, offers no example of
an action more fierce, obstinate and sanguinary. During this time
the Pallas had attacked the Countess of Scarborough,and had captured
her, not, however, without a stubborn resistance. After a victory so
hard earned, so deplorable, Jones wandered with his shattered ves-
sels for some days, at the mercy of the winds in the North sea. He
finally made his way good, on the sixth of October, into the waters
of the Texel.
The events which we have just related are all that claim notice in
the latter months of 1779, after the accession of Spain to the alli-
ance formed against England. But at the commencement of the
following year, other powers manifested dispositions which menaced
that state with new enemies, or at least with exceedingly dubious
friends.
1780. Ever since the commencement of the war, the Dutch had
carried on privately a very lucrative commerce ; they conveyed into
the ports of France ship timber, as well as all sorts of military, and
especially naval, stores. The English were apprised of it, and the
British government had often complained of it, in strong terms, to the
States- General, not only as contrary to the rules which England was
accustomed to observe in time of war, with respect to the commerce
of neutrals, and which themselves either tacitly or expressly acknowl-
edged, but also as a violation of the treaties of commerce and alli-
ance existing between the two nations. The same government had
also remonstrated against the protection granted in Holland to French
and American privateers. The States-General answered only by
disavowal, or evasive explanations. But about the beginning of Janu-
ary, intelligence was received in England, that a numerous convoy of
Dutch vessels, laden with naval stores for account of France, was
already at sea, and that, in order to escape the vigilance of the Brit-
ish cruisers, this fleet had placed itself under the protection of the
234 THE AMERICAN WAR. BOOK XII.
count de Byland, who, with a squadron of ships of the line and frig-
ates, convoyed another merchant fleet bound for the Mediterranean.
The British admiralty dispatched captain Fielding, with a sufficient
number of ships, to examine the convoy, and to seize any vessels
containing contraband articles. The British squadron having met
that of Holland, captain Fielding requested permission to visit the
merchant ships. It was refused him. This notwithstanding, he
dispatched his boats for that purpose, which were fired at, and pre-
vented from executing their orders by the Dutch. Upon this, the
Englishman fired a shot ahead of the Dutch admiral ; it was answer-
ed by a broadside ; and count Byland, having received Fielding's in
return, and being in no condition of force to pursue the contest fur-
ther, then struck his colors. Most of the Dutch vessels that were
in the predicament which occasioned the contest, had already, by
pushing close to the shore, escaped the danger, and proceeded with-
out interruption to the French ports. The others were seized. The
Englishman then informed the Dutch admiral that he was at liberty
to hoist his colors and prosecute his voyage. He hoisted his colors
indeed ; but he refused to separate from any part of his convoy ; and
he accordingly, with the whole of th«3 fleet, which was seized, accom-
panied the British squadron to Spithead. The ships and their car-
goes were confiscated as contraband. This intelligence excited a
violent clamor in Holland. The Dutch were at this time divided in
two parties, one of which held for Fi ance, and the other for England.
All those who belonged to the first were exceedingly indignant; they
exclaimed that no consideration should induce them to endure
patiently so daring an outrage. Even the partisans of the English
could not venture to justify their conduct. It was easy to foresee
that this incident was about to produce a rupture. Far from fear-
ing, the British government wished it ; it preferred an open war to
the clandestine assistance which Holland was lending to France.
It had, besides, already fixed a hankering eye upon the Dutch riches,
which, in the security of peace, were spread over the seas, or were
amassed, without defense, in distant islands. Moreover, the States-
General had made no preparation for war, and it was to be supposed
that they could not very suddenly enter the field.
This event, the instigations of France, the disposition to profit of
the critical situation of Great Britain, at that time assailed by so many
powerful enemies, and especially the desire to liberate the commerce
of neutrals from British vexations, gave origin to that league of the
states of the north, known by the name of the Armed Neutrality,
Ithad,if not for author, at least for chief, the empress of Russja,Cath-
BOOB. XII. THE AMERICAN WAR. 235
anne II., who was immediately joined by the kings of Sweden and
Denmark. The bases of this confederacy were, that neutral vessels
might freely navigate from one port to another, even upon the coasis
of belligerent powers ; that all effects appertaining to one of these
powers, become free so soon as they are on board a neutral vessel,
except such articles as by a prior treaty should have been declared
contraband ; that to determine what articles were to be considered
contraband, the empress of Russia referred to the tenth and eleventh
articles of her treaty with Great Britain, the obligations of which were
to be extended to all the other belligerent powers ; that to specify
what ports were to be deemed blockaded, it was agreed that those
only should be accounted as such, before which there should be sta-
tioned a sufficient number of enemy ships to render their entrance
perilous ; finally, that the preceding principles should serve as rules
in judicial proceedings, and in sentences to be.pronounced respecting
the legality of prizes. To command respect for this confederation,
the three allied courts agreed, that each of them should keep a part
of its naval force equipped, and stationed so as to form an uninter-
rupted chain of ships prepared to protect their common trade, and to
afford each other mutual support and succor. They also agreed,
that when any vessel whatever should have shown by its papers that
it was not carrier of any contraband article, it might place itself
under the escort of ships of war, which should prevent its being stop-
ped, or diverted from its destination. This article, which ascribed to
the state interested, or to its allies, the right of judging of the nature
of cargoes with respect to contraband, appeared to exclude the right
of visit, so strenuously claimed by England ; against whom, notwith-
standing the general terms that were employed, it was manifest that
all this display of maritime force was directed. The allies accom-
panied the foregoing stipulations with professions of the most generous
sentiments ; they declared that they were armed for the defense of
the rights of nature and of nations ; for the liberty of the human
race, and for the prosperity of Europe in particular. In effect, the
European nations, with the exception of the English, manifested an
extreme satisfaction with this new plan of the northern powers ; the
wisdom and magnanimity of Catharine II. became the object of uni-
versal encomium ; so universal was the hatred which the maritime
vexations of England had excited against (hat power ! The articles
of the armed neutrality were communicated to all the European states,
especially to France, Spain, Holland, England, and Portugal, with
invitation to accede to them. The courts of Versailles and Madrid,
eager to profit of the circumstance to sow the seeds of division be-
236 THE AMERICAN WAR. BOOK XII.
tween Great Britein and neutrals, hastened to address their felicita-
tions to the empress of Russia, and to answer that they were ready
not only to join the confederacy, but that they had long before given
their admirals and sea officers such instructions that the principles of
the armed neutrality were already in force as to them. They added,
that equity had directed them to those very measures which were now
proclaimed by the confederate powers of the north. The court of
Lisbon, accustomed to an excessive condescension towards Eng-
land, declined the alliance. The States-General of Holland delibe-
rated upon the course they had to pursue. The British ministers,
either hoping or fearing what was to happen, or in order to constrain
them to declare themselves, had already required them to furnish to
England the subsidies stipulated by the treaty of alliance. The
Dutch alledged the inevitable tardiness of their deliberations ; the
truih was, they were determined to give nothing. The cabinet of St.
James then took a resolution calculated to compel them to a decis-
ion, and to prevent their joining the northern confederacy. It gave
them to understand, that notwithstanding the number and power of
its enemies, it was resolved to proceed to the last extremities with
the Dutch nation, unless it adhered to the ancient system of neutral-
ity. Accordingly the king of Great Britain issued a proclamation,
purporting that the non-performance of the States-General with re-
spect to the succors stipulated by the treaty of alliance, was to be
considered as a violation of that treaty ; that they had thereby fallen
from those privileges which they derived only from the alliance ; and
that the subjects of the United Provinces were, therefore, hencefor-
ward to be considered upon the same footing with those of othei
neutral states not allied. By this step the British king, even before
his demand had been expressly rejected, freed himself from the obli-
gations of the treaty of alliance. He hoped, by this vigorous proce
dure, so to intimidate the Dutch, that they would decline entering into
the almost universal combination of Europe against the maritime pre-
tensions of England. His expectations were much disappointed.
The French party possessed a decided preponderance in the repub-
lic, particularly in the most influential provinces, such as Holland and
West Friesland. The impression also produced by the insult offered
Byland, was too recent ; hence, after long and frequent debates, it
was voted, with unanimity of provinces, that the subsidies to England
should not be paid ; moreover, that the escort of ships of war should
be given to the merchantmen of the republic, with the exception
only of those which, according to the stipulations of former treaties,
might be deemed contraband. It was further decreed, that the in-
BOOK XII. THE AMERICAN WAR. 237
vitation of the empress of Russia should be accepted with gratitude,
and that a negotiation for that purpose should be opened with prince
Gallitzin, her majesty's envoy extraordinary to the States-General.
Already surrounded with enemies, and seeing Russia waver, whose
power and alliance demanded a serious attention, England, without
consenting to admit the principles of the armed neutrality, answered
by vague generalities, which manifested, at least, a desire to pre-
serve peace. Meanwhile, amidst the open or covert perils against
which she had to defend herself, she not only betrayed no symptoms
of discouragement, but even discovered a determination to prose-
cute the war with vigor upon the American continent. The only
change which took place in her plans, as we have already seen, was
to leave merely sufficient garrisons in New York, and to direct all
her efforts against the southern provinces. Accordingly, to enable
Clinton to attack the Carolinas, admiral Arbuthnot had set sail for
America, in the month of May, with a fleet of ships of war and up-
wards of four hundred transports. But soon after his departure
from the coasts of England, he received intelligence that the French,
under the conduct of the prince of Nassau, had attacked the isle of
Jersey, situated near the coasts of Normandy. Thinking it better to
conform to the empire of circumstances, than to his instructions, he
sent back his convoy into Torbay, and repaired with his squadron to
the relief of Jersey. The attempt of the French miscarried. The
admiral resumed his original route. But such were the obstacles
that ensued this retardment, that he lost much time in getting out of
the channel, and gaining sea room to shape his course for America ;
so that it was late in August before he arrived at New York. The
English, at first, however, made no movement, because they were
inhibited by the count d'Estaing, at that time engaged in the siege
of Savannah. Finally, on intelligence of the issue of that enter-
prise, and the departure of the French admiral from the coasts of
America, Clinton had embarked with seven thousand men, under
convoy of Arbuthnot, upon the expedition of South Carolina.
England intended not only to carry on the war with energy upon
the American continent, and to defend her possession in the West
Indies, but she even projected conquests in this quarter, if the occa-
sion should present itself. The ministers accordingly resolved to
send to those islands a considerable re-inforcement, both of ships and
troops, under the conduct of admiral Rodney, a man in whom the
government, and even the whole British nation, had reposed extreme
confidence. It appeared the more essential to dispatch these suc-
cors to the West Indies, as the French were preparing on theii
238 THE AMERICAN WAR. BOOK XII.
part to pass thither a formidable re-inforcement under the count de
Guichen. But before admiral Rodney had put to sea, it was deemed
expedient to employ him in a more important expedition. Spain
had commenced hostilities by laying close siege and blockade to the
fortress of Gibraltar. The blockade was confided to admiral don
Barcelo, a seaman of great vigilance. He exerted his utmost dili-
gence to prevent any sort of supplies from finding their way into the
place, The garrison already began to suffer severely from scarcity.
They could not even hope to receive provision from the neighboring
coasts, by means of light boats which might have eluded the watch-
fulness of the Spaniards ; for the inhabitants of the Barbary shores,
and especially the emperor of Morocco, had declared themselves for
Spain, as soon as they ascertained the inferiority of the English in
the Mediterranean. There remained, therefore, no other way of
re-victualing the place but from England itself, and the convoy
destined for this purpose required a formidable escort. Rodney
was charged with this enterprise. He departed from the British
coasts in the first days of the year, with a fleet of twenty-one sail of
the line, and a considerable number of provision vessels. Fortune
favored his first efforts. He had only been a few days at sea, when
he fell in with a convoy of fifteen Spanish merchantmen, bound from
St. Sebastian to Cadiz, under the guard of the Guipuscoa, a new
ship of sixty-four guns, of four frigates from thirty-two to twenty-
six, and of two smaller vessels. Rodney gave chase, and took the
whole fleet. The capture was the more fortunate, as the greater part
of the vessels were loaded with wheat, flour, and other sorts of pro-
vision ; and the remainder with bale goods and naval stores. The
former he conveyed to Gibraltar, and the latter he sent back to
England, where the naval stores were much wanted. But this was
only the prelude to greater and more brilliant success. On the six-
teenth of January, admiral Rodney fell in, off cape St. Vincent,
with a Spanish squadron of eleven ships of the line, under the com-
mand of don Juan Langara. The Spanish admiral, if he had
chosen, might have avoided the encounter of a force so prodigously
superior to his own. But the moment he descried the enemy's sails
from his mast head, instead of sending out his frigates to reconnoiter,
and falling back upon a port, he immediately formed his ships in
order of battle. When, on the near approach of the English, he
became certain of their superiority, he endeavored to withdraw, but
it was already too late. Admiral Rodney had given the signal for a
general chase, with orders to engage as the ships came up in rota-
tion ; taking at the same time the lee gage, to prevent the enemy's
BOOK XII. THE AMERICAN WAR. 239
retreat into their own ports. The English ships so much outsailed
the Spanish, that by four in the evening the headmost had come up
with them, and began to engage ; their fire was returned with great
spirit and resolution by the Spaniards. The night was dark, tem-
pestuous and dismal ; the proximity of the shoals of St. Lucar ren-
dered the scene more terrible. Early in the action the Spanish ship
San Domingo, of seventy guns and six hundred men, blew up, and
all on board perished. The action and pursuit continued until two
in the morning. The Spanish admiral's ship, the Phosnix, of eighty
guns, with three others of seventy, were taken and carried safely
into Gibraltar. The San Eugenio and San Julian had also surren-
dered to the English, who had shifted their officers, and put a cer-
tain number of British seamen on board each of them. But the sea
being rough, the night tempestuous, and the breakers very near,
the English officers, having no pilots that knew the Spanish coast,
placed themselves at the discretion of their prisoners, who, from van-,
quished becoming victors, carried the two ships into the port of
Cadiz. Two other ships of the line and two frigates, all greatly
damaged, escaped into the same port. The following day the Eng-
lish had great difficulty in extricating their fleet from the shoals, and
getting back into deep water. Don Juan de Langara had been
wounded severely.
Admiral Rodney hastened to profit of his victory ; he entered
Gibraltar. In a short time he deposited there all the supplies he had
brought ; provision became so abundant that the fortress found itself
in a situation to endure a long siege without further recruit. After
having accomplished, with equal utility to his country and glory to
himself, the orders of his court, Rodney proceeded, about the middle
of February, with a part of his force, for the West Indies. He left
the rest of his fleet witli the Spanish prizes on their way to England,
under the conduct of rear-admiral Digby. Fortune, who had shown
herself so propitious to the English, seemed disposed to serve them
still on their return. They perceived at a great distance a squadron
consisting of several French ships of different sizes. It was a con-
voy bound to the Isle of France, under the protection of the Proteus
and Ajax, both of sixty-four guns, and of the frigate la Channante.
The viscount du Chilleau commanded the whole. As soon as he
discovered the English, he made a signal to the Ajax and ti.e bulk
of the convoy to make their escape by the rear. As to himself, he
rallied about the Proteus, the frigate, and some smaller vessels, in
order to take up the attention of the enemy. His stratagem suc-
ceeded. Rear-admiral Digby gave no heed to the Ajax, and the
240 THE AMERICAN WAR. BOOK XXI.
greater part of the convoy which retired under her escort ; he was
fully occupied in pursuit of the Proteus, which sailed with such
celerity that she had little to fear ; but unluckily, she carried away
some of her spars, which so retarded her progress that she fell into
the hands of the English, together with three transports. Such was
the success of Rodney's expedition to Gibraltar. It was celebrated
in England by unusual rejoicings, as well on account of its real im-
portance, as because it was the first good news which had arrived
for so long a time. The parliament voted public thanks to George
Rodney.
Thus England, while she defended herself, on the one hand,
against her enemies in Europe, prepared herself, on the other, to
attack p.t once the republicans upon the American continent, and the
French and Spaniards in the West Indies. Her resolution in the
midst of so many perils, and such powerful foes, became the object
.of universal admiration. Her constancy was compared to that of
Louis XIV., who nobly faced the coalition of all Europe against him.
She was declared to imitate the still more recent example of Fred-
eric the Great, who had withstood all the efforts of the most formida-
ble confederacy. Even those who had the most openly blamed the
conduct of the British government towards its colonies, were now
the very men who most extolled her present magnanimity. But
thinking men better appreciated the truth ; if they commended the
firmness of the British monarch, they neither compared him,to Louis
XIV. nor yet to Frederic the Great. They reflected that England,
being an island, cannot, without extreme difficulty, be attacked in its
interior parts, and in the very elements of its force ; and that naval
battles are never so decisive as those of land. It cannot be denied,
however, that the ardor and intrepidity of the British natior seemed
to increase with all the dangers of its position* The most formidable
antagonists of the ministry suspended their attacks, in order to devote
themselves exclusively to the necessities of the state. ' Let us first
triumph abroad,' they exclaimed ; ' we will then settle this contro-
versy between ourselves.' In the country, as in the most opulent
cities, a multitude of private individuals engaged to advance large
sums in order to levy and organize troops. Not private subjects
only, but political and commercial bodies vied in promptness to offer
the state their voluntary contributions. The East India Company
presented the government with1 three ships of seventy-four guns, and
a sum sufficient to raise and maintain six thousand seamen. Extra-
ordinary bounties were given to those who presented themselves to
serve the king by sea or land. Tnis lure, together with the love
BOOK XII. THE AMERICAN WAR. 241
of country and hatred for the French and Spaniards, drew sailors
to the ships in multitudes ; upon the whole surface of the kingdom
the militia were seen forming themselves to the exercise of arms
In a word, all Great Britain was in motion to combat the Bourbons.
The people of Europe, who had thought at first that she would
find it difficult to resist the formidable forces which that house had
marshaled for her destruction, began to believe that so much cour-
age and firmness might be crowned with victory, or at least render
the struggle still for a long time dubious, and consistent with her
safety.
END OP BOOK TWELFTH.
VOL. II.
16
2'12 THE AMERICAN WAR. BOOK XIII.
BOOK THIRTEENTH.
1780. I HAVE now to describe an obstinate war. remarkable for
its numerous encounters and variety of success, and one which, pei-
haps, more than any other, has demonstrated how uncertain is the
fate of arms, how inconstant the favor of fortune, and with what per-
tinacity the human mind can arm itself in pursuit of that whereon
it has fixed ks desires. Victory often produced the effects of defeat,
and defeat those of victory ; the victors frequently became the van-
quished, the vanquished the victors. In little actions was exhibited
great valor ; and the prosperous or unfortunate efforts of a handful
of combatants had sometimes more important consequences than in
Europe attend those terrible battles, where valiant and powerful na-
tions rush to the shock of arms. The Carolinas saw no cessation
of this fierce conflict, till by numberless reverses the cause of Great
Britain began to be considered altogether hopeless upon the Ameri-
can continent.
' Sir Henry Clinton, as we have related in the preceding book, had
departed from the state of New York for the expedition of the Car-
olinas ; the first object of it was the conquest of Charleston, the re-
duction of which, it was calculated, would involve that of the entire
province. He took with him seven to eight thousand men, English,
Hessians and loyalists. Among them was found a corps of excellent
cavalry, a species of force veiy essential to the success of operations
in open and flat countries. Clinton had likewise taken care to fill
his transports with an immense quantity of military stores and pro-
vision. The English moved towards their object, animated with ex-
treme ardor and confidence of victory. The winds and sea were at
first highly favorable; but there afterwards arose a most violent
tempest, which dispersed the whole fleet, and greatly damaged the
most of the vessels. Some arrived about the last of January at
Tybee, in Georgia ; others were intercepted by the Americans.
One transport foundered, with all its lading; the horses, both artillerv
and troop, that were on board, nearly all perished. These losses,
distressing at any time, were grievous and next to irreparable, under
the present circumstances. They, moreover, so retarded the enter-
prise of Charleston, that the Americans had time to put that place
m a state of defense.
All the dispersed corps at length re-assembled in Georgia. The
victorious troops of Savannah received those of Clinton with a high
flush of spirit? j all exerted themselves with emulation to remedy the
bOOK XIII. THE AMERICAN WAR. 243
disasters sustained in the passage. When all their preparations were
completed, that is, on the tenth of February, they set sail in the
transports, under convoy of some ships of war. Favored by the
winds, they soon reached the mouth of North Edisto, a river which
empties itself into the sea at a short distance from the Isle of St.
John upon the coast of South Carolina. After having reconnoitered
the places and passed the bar, the British army landed, and took
possession first of the above mentioned island, and next, that of
James, which stretches to the south of Charleston harbor. It after-
wards, by throwing a bridge over Wappoo Cut, extended its posts
on the main land to the banks of Ashley river, which washes the
walls of Charleston. From Wappoo Cut it was intended to pass the
troops in galleys and flat boats to the left bank of the Ashley, upon
which Charleston stands. But the delays occasioned by the events
•of the passage having given the Americans time to erect new fortifi-
cations, and to re-inforce the garrison, Clinton determined not to
undertake the siege till after having drawn a re-inforcement from
general Prevost, stationed at Savannah, whom he accordingly di-
rected to send him twelve hundred men, including the greatest num-
ber of cavalry possible. He had likewise written to Knyphausen,
who, after his departure, commanded in the state of New York, to
forward him, with all expedition, re-inforcements and munitions. A
few days after, general Patterson joined him with the troops from
Georgia, after having endured excessive fatigues, and surmounted
the numerous obstacles thrown in his way, not only by swoln rivers
and miry roads, but also by the enemy, whose light detachments
nad hung on his left flank from Savannah to far within the frontiers
of Carolina. Meanwhile, Clinton intrenched himself upon the banks
of the Ashley and of the adjacent arms of the sea, in order to se
cure his communications with the fleet. During this interval colo-
nel Tarleton, of whom there will be frequent mention in the course
of this history, an officer of cavalry, as skillful as enterprising, had
repaired to the fertile island of Port Royal, where, employing money
with the disaffected arid force with the patriots, he spared no exer-
tions for the acquisition of horses to replace those lost in the pas-
sage. If he could not collect as many as the exigencies of the ser-
vice demanded, yet the success much surpassed his expectations.
Thus, about the last of March, every thing was in preparation for
commencing the siege of Charleston ; the British army was separat-
ed from the place only by the waters of the river Ashley.
On the other hand, the Americans had omitted none of those
preparations, whether civil or military, which they deemed the most
suitable for a vigorous .defense ; although, in truth, it had not been
244 THE AMERICAN WAR. BOOK XI U.
in their power to effect all that was requisite to meet the danger of
the emergency. The paper currency was so out of credit with the
inhabitants of South Carolina, that it was excessively difficult to pur-
chase with it the necessaries of war. The want of soldiers was felt
with equal severity. The militia, impatient to enjoy repose after the
painful operations of Georgia, during the preceding winter, had dis-
banded and retired to their habitations.
Another motive also discouraged them from marching to the
succor of Charleston; and that was, the fear of the small-pox,
which it was known prevailed in that city. Moreover, the six regi-
ments of the line, belonging to the provinces, were so enfeebled by
desertions, diseases, battle, and the expiration of engagements, that
all together did not amount to a thousand soldiers. It should be
added, that many of the Carolinians were induced to profit of the
amnesty offered by general Prevost, at Savannah, some through loy- <
alty towards the king, others to preserve their effects from pillage.
In effect, the English put to sack and devastation, without lenity, the
property of all those who continued to serve under the banners of
congress; and, besides, the victory of Savannah had penetrated
minds with. a great terror of the British arms. The major part were
reluctant to immure themselves within a city which they believed
little capable of resisting the assaults of so audacious an enemy.
Such was the penury of means to which South Carolina was
reduced ; the congress displayed not much more energy. They
had been seasonably apprised of the designs of the English, and
would fain have averted the storm they saw going to burst upon
South Carolina. But on the one hand, the weakness of the army
of Washington, which a great number of his soldiers had abandoned
at the termination of their engagement ; on the other, the force of^
the garrisons which Clinton had left in the state of New York, ren-
dered it unadvisable to detach any effective succor to Charleston.
Nevertheless, to support by words those whom they were unable to
assist by deeds, or under the persuasion that the people, re-animated
at the peril which menaced South Carolina, would voluntarily fly to
arms, the congress wrote to the chiefs of that province, to arm them-
selves with constancy, for it was intended to send them a re-inforce-
ment of nine thousand men. But the fact proved that they could
only send fifteen hundred, of the regular troops of North Carolina
and Virginia. The congress dispatched, besides, two frigates, a
corvette, and some smaller vessels, to maintain, if possible, a com-
munication by sea with the besieged city. The Carolinians were
also exhorted to arm their slaves ; a scheme, however, which was
not put in execution, whether because of the universal repugnance
BOOK XIII. THE AMERICAN \VAR. 245
'thai, was felt to such a measure, or because there was not at hand a
sufficiency of arms for the purpose. Notwithstanding this coldness
of the citizens, the magistrates of Charleston, encouraged by the
presence and words of general Lincoln, who directed all that con-
cerned the military part, held a general council, in which it was
resolved to defend the city to the last extremity. Yet more, know
ing how important in the operations of war, and especially in all
cases of emergency, is the unity of measures and power, they con-
ferred a sort of aictature on John Rutledge, their governor, giving
him authority to do whatever he should think necessary to the safety
of the republic. They withheld, however, the power over the life of
citizens ; as he could punish none with death without a legal trial.
Vested with such an authority, Rutledge called out the militia ; but
few displayed their colors. He then issued a proclamation, sum-
moning ail persons inscribed on the military rolls, or having property
in the city, to muster and join the garrison ; their disobedience for-
feited their estates. At so rigorous an order, some made their
appearance ; but still the number of those who took arms was far
from answering the wishes of the governor. The inhabitants of the
country seemed plunged in a kind of stupor ; they wished, before
they took their side, to see what would be the fate of events ; in
brief, the garrison of so considerable a city scarcely amounted to five
thousand men, inclusive of regulars, militia, and seamen. The first,
who were principally relied on for the defense of the place, were to
the number of about two thousand. Meanwhile, the fortifications
were pushed with indefatigable industry. They consisted, on the
land side, in a chain of redoubts, lines and batteries, extending
from one river to the other, and covered with an artillery of eighty
cannon and mortars. In the front of either flank, the works were
covered by swamps, originating from the opposite rivers, and tending
towards the center ; through which they were connected by a canal
passing from one to the other. Between these outward impediments
and the works were two strong rows of abattis, the trees being buried
slanting in the earth, so that their heads, facing outwards, formed a
kind of fraise work against the assailants ; and these were further
secured by a ditch double picketed. In the center, where the nat-
ural defenses were unequal to those on the flanks, the Americans
had constructed a horn work of masonry, as well to remedy that de-
fect, as to cover the principal gate. Such were the fortifications which,
stretching across the neck behind the city, and from the Ashley river
to Cooper's river, defended it on the part of the land. But on the
two sides where it is washed by these rivers, the Americans had
contented themselves with erecting numerous batteries, constructed,
246 THE AMERICAN WAR. BOOK XJII.
the better to resist shot, of earth mingled with palmetto wood. All
parts of the shore, where it was possible to land, had been secured
by strong palisades. To support the defenses on shore, the Ameri-
cans had a considerable marine force in the harbor, consisting in
eight of their own frigates, with one French frigate, besides severai
smaller vessels, principally galleys. These were judiciously moored
at a narrow pass, between Sullivan's island and the middle ground ;
and if they had continued in this position, they might have severely
annoyed the British squadron, on its approach to Fort Moultrie,
situated on Sullivan's island, so much celebrated for the obstinate
and successful defense which it made against the attack of the Eng-
lish in 1776. But wfien admiral Arbuthnot advanced with his ships
to Charleston bar, the American flotilla, abandoning its station, and
leaving Fort Moultrie to its own fortune, retired to Charleston ; where
most of the ships, with a number of merchant vessels, being fitted
with chevaux-de-frize on their decks, were sunk to obstruct the
channel of Cooper's river, where it flows between the left part of the
town and a low sand bank called Shute's Folly. Thus, with the
exception of Fort Moultrie, there remained nothing to prevent the
British fleet from entering the harbor, to co-operate with the land
forces. In this manner the inhabitants prepared to defend them-
selves valiantly against the attack of the enemy ; but they still found-
ed their hope on the succors of their neighbors of North Carolina
and Virginia.
Lincoln and Rutledge exhibited a rivalship of zeal and talent in
their efforts to impart fresh confidence to the besieged, and new
strength to the works. They were admirably seconded by two
French engineers, de Laumoy and de Cambray. The troops of
the line were charged with the defense of the intrenchments, as the
post of peril, and the militia had the guard of the banks of the
river.
As soon as Clinton had .completed all his preparations, the twenty-
ninth of March, having left a detachment to guard his magazines at
Wappoo Cut, he passed the Ashley river without opposition, twelve
miles above Charleston. Immediately after his debarkation he sent
a body of infantry and cavalry to occupy the great road and scour
the country to within cannon-shot from the place. The army then
followed, and took post across the isthmus behind the city, at the
distance of a mile and a half. From this moment, the garrison lost
all communication with the land ; the enemy being masters of both
sides of the Ashley, there remained no way open for succors of
men and provision but across the Cooper on their left. The royaJ-
ists had soon transported to their camp, through the assistance to
BOOK XIII. THE AMERICAN WAR. 247
captain Elphinstone with his boats and armed galleys, all the heavy
artillery, stores, and baggage. On the night of the first of April,
they broke ground within eight hundred yards of the American
works ; and in a week their guns were mounted in battery.
In the meantime, admiral Arbuthnot had made his dispositions for
passing the bar in order to gain the entrance of Charleston harbor.
The frigates, as drawing less water, passed without any difficulty ;
but the ships of the line could not be got over till after having been
lightened of their artillery, munitions, and even their water; the
whole squadron passed on the twentieth of March. Arbuthnot came
to anchor at Five Fathom Hole ; he had still, however, to surmount,
before he could take an active part in the siege of Charleston, the
obstacle of Fort Moultrie, occupied by colonel Pinckney with a
respectable force. The English admiral, profiting of a south wind
and flood tide, weighed anchor on the ninth of April, and passing it
under a press of sail, took his station within cannon-shot from the
city near James island. Colonel Pinckney had opened all his artil-
lery upon the British vessels, at the moment of their passage ; but
such was the rapidity of their way, that it did them little (damage.
The dead and wounded were less than thirty ; a solitary transport
was abandoned and burned.
In this state of things, the batteries ready to be opened, and the
place already invested by sea and land, Clinton and Arbuthnot sent
a joint summons to general Lincoln, holding out the fatal conse-
quences of a cannonade and storm, and stating the present as the
only favorable opportunity for preserving the lives and property of the
inhabitants. The American answered spiritedly, that he was deter-
mined to defend himself. The English immediately commenced
their fire ; the place answered it briskly. But the besiegers had the
advantage of a more numerous artillery, particularly in mortars, which
made great ravages. The pioneers and miners, under the direction
of the same Moncrieffe who had gained so much honor in the de-
fense of Savannah, pushed forward the works with extreme rapidity.
The second parallel was already completed and furnished with us
batteries ; every thing promised the English an approaching victory ;
but the Americans had assembled a corps on the upper part cf
Cooper river, at a place called Monk's Corner. They were under
the conduct of general Huger ; and from that position they could
invest the besiegers on their rear, revictual Charleston, and in case
of extremity, enable the garrison to evacuate the place, and retreat
with safety into the country.
Besides, however feeble was this corps, it might serve as an incen-
tiv e and rallying point for continual accessions. North Carolina had
248 THE AMERICAN WAR. BOOK XIII.
already dispatched to their camp a great quantity of arms, stores
and baggage. Under these considerations, general Clinton detached
fourteen5 hundred men, under lieutenant-colonel Webster, to strike
at this body of republicans before it should become more considera-
ble, to break in upon the remaining communications of the besieged,
and to seize the principal passes of the country. Colonel Webster
was accompanied by Tarleton and Ferguson, both partisans of dis-
tinguished gallantry. The Americans had established their principal
cantonments on the left side of the Cooper, and being masters of
Biggins Bridge, on that river, they had passed all their cavalry to
the right bank. This position was strong, the bridge being accessi-
ble only by a causeway through an impracticable morass ; but they
were off their guard, having neglected to post videttes, and to re-
connoiter the environs. Moreover, their dispositions were defective ,
they had placed the cavalry in front, and the infantry in rear. The
English arrived, unexpectedly, at three in the morning ; their attack
was impetuous ; it routed the Americans in a few instants ; all
perished save those who sought safety by flight. General Huger,
and the colonels Washington and Jamieson, threw themselves into
the morass, and were fortunate enough to escape by favor of the
darkness. Four hundred horses, a prize of high value, fell into the
hands of the victors, with many carriages loaded with arms, clothing
and stores. The royalists took possession of the bridge, and, soon
after, secured another passage lower down, and overrun the country
on the left side of the river, particularly the district of St. Thomas.
In this manner the besieged were deprived also of the Cooper river,
and Charleston found itself completely enclosed. The garrison was
not judged sufficiently strong to warrant any opposition to this en-
terprise. The Americans attempted only to fortify a point on the
left bank, called Point Lamprey ; but Webster's corps being consid-
erably re-inforced, and lord Cornwallis having taken the command
on that side of the river, they found themselves constrained to aban-
don this last post. The British foraged without obstacle, prevented
the assembling of the militia, and cut off every species of succor.
A few days after, Tarleton, having advanced with incredible celerity
upon the banks of the Santee river, attacked and routed another
body of republican cavalry, commanded by colonel Buford ; arms,
horses, munitions, every thing fell into the power of the victor. Ad-
verse fortune continued to pursue the republicans. Admiral Arbuth-
not landed on Sullivan's island a body of seamen and marines, men
.of approved hardihood. He began to enclose Fort Moultrie ; having
procured a full knowledge of the state of the garrison and defenses
of the place, he prepared to storm it on the part of the west and
BOOK XIII. THE AMERICAN WAR. 249
northwest, where the works were the weakest. The garrison, sen-
sible of the impossibility of relief, the English being masters of the
sea, and seeing the means of attack incomparably superior to those
of resistance, surrendered, the seventh of May. Thus Fort Moul-
trie, which four years before had repulsed all the forces of admi-
ral Hyde Parker, fell, without firing a shot, into the power of the
royalists.
In the meantime, the besiegers had completed their third parallel,
which they carried close to the canal we have already described ;
and by a sap pushed to the dam which supplied it with water on the
right, they had drained it in several parts to the bottom. They
hastened to arm this parallel with its batteries, and to complete the
traverses and other mines of communication. The place being thus
environed, and the bombardment about to commence, Clinton sum-
moned Lincoln anew. A negotiation was opened, but the American
commander required not only that the citizens and militia should be
free with respect to their persons, but that they should also be per-
mitted to sell their property, and retire with the proceeds wherever
they might see fit ; the English general refused to grant these condi-
tions. He insisted that the whole garrison should surrender at dis-
cretion ; and, as to property, he would agree to nothing further than
that it should not be given up to pillage. The conferences were
broken off, and hostilities recommenced. The fortifications were
battered with violence by the heavy artillery ; bombs and carcasses
overwhelmed the town, and lighted frequent conflagrations ; the
Hessian marksmen felled all that showed themselves at the embra-
sures, or on the ramparts. Neither shelter nor retreat remained tc
the besieged ; every thing indicated that the moment of surrender
must soon arrive. The fire of the place was already become lan-
guid ; its artillery was in part dismounted, and its best cannoniers
either killed or out of service ; and the English had pushed on their
works till they issued in the ditch of the place. The city was men-
aced with an assault ; discord began to break out within ; the timid
and those attached to the royal party murmured aloud ; they con-
jured Lincoln not to expose to inevitable destruction, so rich, so
important a city. They represented that the stock of provision was
nearly exhausted ; that the engineers considered it impossible to
sustain a storm ; in a word, that there was not the least way of safe-
ty left open.
In so terrible an extremity, Lincoln divested himself of his natu-
ral inflexibility ; and, on the twdfth of May, the capitulation was
signed. The garrison were allowed some of the honors of war ; but
they were not to uncase their colors, nor their drums to beat a Brit-
250 THE AMERICAN WAR. BOOK. XIII.
urn march. The continental troops and seamen were to keep their
baggage, and to remain prisoners of war until they were exchanged.
The militia were to be permitted to return to their respective homes,
as prisoners on parole ; and whilo they adhered to their parole, were
not to be molested by the British troops in person or property. The
citizens of all sorts to be considered as prisoners on parole, and to
hold their property on the same terms with the militia. The officers
of the army and navy to retain their servants, swords, pistols, and
their baggage unsearched. As to general Lincoln, he was to have
liberty to send a ship to Philadelphia with his dispatches.
Thus, after a siege of forty days, the capital of South Carolina
fell into the hands of the royalists. Seven general officers, ten con-
tinental regiments, much thinned, it is true, and three battalions of
artillery, prisoners of the English, gave signal importance to their
victory ; the whole number of men in arms who were taken, was
estimated at six thousand. Four hundred pieces of artillery, of
every sort, were the prey of the victors, with no small quantity of
powder,t balls and bombs ; three stout American frigates, one French,
and a polacre of the same nation, augmented the value of the con-
quest. The loss of men was not great on either side, arid was not
very unequally shared.
The Carolinians complained greatly of their not being properly
assisted by their neighbors, particularly the Virginians, in this long
and arduous struggle. The conduct of general Lincoln was unani-
mously blamed, though very differently judged. Some reproached
him for having allowed himself to be cooped up in so extensive and
indefensible a town, instead of continuing the war in the open field.
They said that if he had taken this course, he might have preserved
to the Union a considerable army, and the most fertile part of the
province ; that it would have been much better to harass and fatigue
the enemy by marches, retreats, ambuscades, and well concerted at-
tacks ; that Washington had acted very differently, and with greater
utility to his country, when, to the loss of his army, he preferred that
.of the island of New York, and even of the city of Philadelphia
itself. It was not Lincoln alone, however, who should have been
made responsible for events, but the congress and the neighboring
provincial states ; since they promised, at the approach of danger,
re-inforcements which they did not furnish.
Other censors of the general's conduct condemned him for not
having evacuated the town, when all the roads were still open on the
left side of the Cooper river. But if he followed an opposite coun-
sel, it should be attributed, at first, to this same hope of promised
succor ; and then, after the rout of Monk's Corner, and the English
BOOK XIII. THE AMERICAN WAR. 251
had occupied the country between the Cooper and the Santee, to
the fear he justly entertained of encountering an infinite superiority
of force, particularly in cavalry, and to the repugnance he felt to
leave Charleston at discretion in the hands of the enemy.
As soon as general Clinton had taken possession of that capital,
he hastened to take all those measures, civil as well as military,
which were judged proper for the re-establishment of order ; he then
made his dispositions for recovering the rest of the province, where
every thing promised to anticipate the will of the victor. Determin-
ed to follow up his success, before his own people should have
time to cool, or the enemy to take breath, he planned three expedi-
tions ; one towards the river Savannah, in Georgia, another upon
Ninety-Six, beyond the Saluda, both with a view to raise the loyal-
ists, very numerous in those parts ; the third was destined to scour
the country between the Cooper and Santee, in order to disperse
•a body of republicans, who, under the conduct of colonel Buford,
were retiring by forced marches towards North Carolina. All three
were completely successful ; the inhabitants flocked from all parts
to meet the royal troops, declaring their desire to resume their an-
cient allegiance, and offering to defend the royal cause with arms in
hand. Many even of the inhabitants of Charleston, excited by
the proclamations of the British general, manifested a like zeal tc
combat under his banners. Lord Cornwallis, after having swept the
two banks of the Cooper and passed the Santee, made himself mas-
ter of Georgetown. Such was the devotion, either real or feigned,
of the inhabitants towards the king ; such was their terror, or their
desire to ingratiate themselves with the victor, that not content with
coming in from every quarter to offer their services, in support of
the royal government, they dragged in their train, as prisoners, those
friends of liberty, whom they had lately obeyed with such parade of
zeal, and whom they now denominated their oppressors. Mean-
while, colonel Buford continued his retreat with celerity, and it ap-
peared next to impossible that he should be overtaken. Tarleton,
nevertheless, offered to attempt the enterprise, promising to reach
him. Cornwallis put under his command, for this object, a strong
corps of cavalry, with about a hundred light infantry mounted on
horseback. His march was so rapid, that on the twenty-eighth of
May he had gained Camden, where he learned that Buford had
departed the preceding day from Rugeleys Mills, and that he was
pushing on with extreme speed, in order to join another body of
republicans that was on the march from Salisbury to Charlotte, in
North Carolina. Tarleton saw the importance of preventing the
junction of these two corps ; accordingly, notwithstanding the fatiguw
252 THE AMERICAN WAR. BOOK XIII.
of men and horses, many of these having already dropped dead with
exhaustion, notwithstanding the heat of the season, he redoubled his
pace, and it length presented himself, after a march of one hundred
and five miles in fifty-four hours, at a place called Wacsaw, before
the object of his pursuit. The English summoned the Americans
to throw down their arms ; the latter answered with spirit, that they
were prepared to defend themselves. The colonel drew up his
troops in order of battle ; they consisted of four hundred Virginia
regulars with a detachment of horse. He formed but one line, and
ordered his artillery and baggage to continue their march in his rear,
without halting ; his soldiers were directed to reserve their fire till
the British cavalry were approached within twenty yards. Tarleton
ost no time in preparation, but charged immediately. The Amer-
icans gave way after a faint resistance ; the English pursued them
with vigor, and the carnage was dreadful. Their victory was com-
plete ; all, in a manner, that were not killed on the spot, were wound-
ed and taken. Such was the rage of the victors, that they massa-
cred many of those who offered to surrender. The Americans
emembered it with horror. From that time it became with them a
proverbial mode of expressing the cruelties of a barbarous enemy, to
call them Tarleton' s quarter. Artillery, baggage, munitions, colors,
every thing, fell into the power of the English. It appears that
colonel Buford committed two faults, the most serious of which was
the having awaited on open ground an enemy much superior in
cavalry. If, instead of sending his carriages behind him, as soon as
he perceived the royal troops, he had formed them into a cincture for
his corps, the English would not have attempted to force it, or
would have exposed themselves to a sanguinary repulse. The
second was that of forbidding his men to fire at the enemy, till he
was within twenty paces; it ensued that Tarleton's cavalry was
enabled to charge with more order and efficacy. That officer im-
mediately returned, followed by the trophies of his victory, to Cam-
den, where he rejoined lord Cornwallis. The American division,
which had advanced to Charlotte, changed its plan, on hearing of
the discomfiture of Wacsaw, and fell back with precipitation on
Salisbury.
This reverse destroyed the last hopes of the Carolinians, and was
Boon followed by their submission. General Clinton wrote to Lon-
don, that South Carolina was become English again, and that there
were few men in the province who were not prisoners to, or in arms
with the British forces. But he was perfectly aware that the con-
quest he owed to his arms could not be preserved but by the entire
re-establishment of the civil administration. To this end, he deemed
BOOK XIII. THE AMERICAN WAR 253
it essential to put minds at rest by the assurance of amnesty, and to
oblige the inhabitants to contribute to the defense of the country,
and to the restoration of the royal authority. Accordingly, in concert
with admiral Arbuthnot, he published a full and absolute pardon in
favor of those who should immediately return to their duty, prom-
ising that no offenses and transgressions heretofore committed in con-
sequence of political troubles, should be subject to any investigation
whatever. He excepted only those who, under a mockery of the
forms of justice, had imbrued their hands in the blood of their fellow-
citizens, who had shown themselves adverse to revolt and usurpa-
tion. He had then to reflect that a great number of the Carolinians
were prisoners of war on parole, and that while they were considered
as such, they could not equitably be constrained to take arms in
favor of the king. But, in the pride of victory, Clinton thought he
might sport with the public faith, and got over this difficulty by
declaring, in a proclamation issued on the third of June, that the
prisoners of war were free, and released from their parole, with the
exception of the regular troops taken in Charleston and Fort Moul-
trie ; he added, that they were re-established in all the rights and
all the duties of British subjects. But that no doubt might remain
with regard to his intentions, and to prevent all conjecture, he gave
notice that every man must take an active part in support of the
royal government, and in the suppression of that anarchy which had
prevailed already but too long. For the attainment of this object,
he required all persons to be in readiness with their arms at a mo-
ment's warning ; those who had families, to form a militia for home
defense ; but those who had none, to serve with the royal forces for
any six months of the ensuing twelve, in which they might be called
upon to assist, as he said, ' in driving their rebel oppressors, and aii
the miseries of war, far from the province.' They were not to be
employed, however, out of the two Carolinas and Georgia. Thus
citizens were armed against citizens, brothers against brothers ; thus
the same individuals who had been acknowledged as soldiers of the
congress, since they had been comprehended in the capitulation as
prisoners of war, were constrained to take arms for the king of Eng-
land ; a violence, if not unprecedented, at least odious, and which
rebounded, as we shall see by the sequel, on the heads of those who
were guilty of it. General Clinton, seeing the province in tranquillity,
and the ardor, which appeared universal, of the inhabitants to join
the royal standard, distributed his army in the most important garri-
sons ; when, leaving lord Cornwallis in command of all the forces
stationed in South Carolina and Georgia, he departed from Charles-
ton for his government of New York.
254 THE AMERICAN WAR. BOOK XIII.
That city, during his absence, had been exposed to a danger as
unexpected as alarming. A winter, unequaled in that climate for
its length and severity, had deprived New York and the adjoining
islands of all the defensive benefits of their insular situation ; the
Hudson river, with the straits and channels by which they are divided
and surrounded, were every where clothed with ice of such a strength
and thickness, a* would have admitttj the passage of armies, with
their heaviest carriages and artillery. This change, so suddenly
wrought in the nature of their situation, caused the British commanders
extreme disquietu-de ; they feared the more for the safety of New
York, as its garrison was then very feeble, and the army of Washing-
ton not far off. Accordingly, they neglected none of those pruden tial
measures which are usual in similar cases ; all orders of men in New
York were embodied, armed and officered. The officers and crc;ws
of the frigates undertook the charge of a redoubt ; and those of the
transports, victualers and merchantmen, were armed with pikes, for
the defense of the wharves and shipping. But Washington was in no
condition to profit of this unlocked for event. The small army which
remained with him hutted at Morristown, was inferior in strength even
to the British regular force at New York, exclusive of the armed in-
habitants and militia. He sent lord Sterling, it is true, to make an
attempt upon Staten Island, and to reconnoiter the ground ; but that
general, observing no movement in his favor on the part of the city,
returned to his first position. Thus the scourge of short engagements,
and the torpor which prevailed at that time among the Americans,
caused them to lose the most propitious occasion that could have been
desired, to strike a blow that would have sensibly affected the British
power. If their weakness constrained them to inaction in the vicin-
ity of New York, the English did not imitate their example. As
soon as the return of spring had freed them from the danger they had
apprehended during the season of ice, they renewed their predatory
exploits in New Jersey. Their object in these excursions of devas-
tation and plunder, was to favor the operations in Carolina, in order
that the enemy, feeling insecure at various points, might carry suc-
cor to none.
About the beginning of June, and a few days previous to the return
of general Clinton, the generals Knyphausen, Robertson, and Tryon,
who, during his absence, commanded the troops cantoned at New
York, had entered New Jersey with a corps of five thousand men, and
had occupied Elizabethtown ; they conducted themselves there with
generosity, and abstained from all pillage. They afterwards advanced
and took possession of Connecticut Farms, a new and flourishing
village. Irritated at the resistance they had experienced in their
BOOK XIII. THE AMERICAN WAR. 255
march having been harassed incessantly by the country militia, who
had risen against them from all the neighboring parts, they set fire to
this place ; only two houses escaped ; even the church was a prey
to the flames. This disaster was signalized by a deplorable event,
which contributed not a little to redouble the indignation of the
republicans against the royalists. Among the inhabitants of Con-
necticut Farms was a young gentlewoman, as celebrated for her
virtues as for the singular beauty of her person. Her husband, James
Cadwell, was one of the most ardent and influential patriots in that
province. He urged her, and resorted to the entreaties of friends to
persuade her to withdraw from the danger ;• but trusting to her own
innocence for protection, she awaited the invaders. She was sur-
rounded by her little children, and near her a nursery maid held in
her arms the youngest of hear offspring. A furious soldier appeared at
the window, a Hessian, as it is said ; he took aim at this unfortunate
mother, and pierced her breast with an instantly mortal shot ; her
blood gushed upon all her tender orphans. Other soldiers rushed
into the house, and set it on fire, after having hastened to bury theii
victim. Thus, at least, the republicans relate this horrible adventure.
The English pretended that the shot had been fired at random, and
even that it was discharged by the Americans, since it came from the
part by which they retired. However the truth may be, the melan-
choly fate of this gentlewoman fired the breasts of the patriots with
such rage, that they flew from every quarter to take vengeance upon
the authors of so black a deed. The royal troops had put them-
selves on the march to seize a neighboring town called Springfield.
They had nearly reached it, when they were informed that general
Maxwell awaited them there, with a regiment of New Jersey regu-
lars and a strong body of militia, impatient for combat. The English
halted, and passed the night In that position. The next morning they
fell back with precipitation upon Elizabethtown, whether their com-
manders thought it imprudent to attack an enemy who bore so men-
acing a countenance, or that they had received intelligence, as they
published, that Washington had detached from Morristown a strong
re-inforcement to Maxwell. The Americans pursued them wilh
warmth, but to little purpose, from the valor and regularity displayed
in their retreat.
At this conjuncture, general Clinton arrived at New York, and
immediately adopted apian from which he promised himself the most
decisive success. His purpose was to dislodge Washington from tiie
strong position he occupied in the mountainous and difficult country
of Monisonia, which, forming a natural barrier, had furnished the
American captain-general with an impregnable shelter against the
256 THE AMERICAN WAR. BOOK XIII.
attacks of the English, even when his force was the most reduced.
Accordingly, Clinton, having embarked a considerable body of
troops at New York, executed such movements as made it appear
that his design was to ascend the Hudson river, in order to seize the
passes in the mountains towards the lakes. He had persuaded him-
self that Washington, as soon as he should be informed of this demon-
stration, would instantly put himself in motion, and, in the fear of
losing these passes, would advance with the whole or the greater part
of his force, in order to defend them. The British general intended to
seize this occasion to push rapidly with the troops he had at Eliza-
bethtown, against the heights of Morrisonia, and thus to occupy the
positions which constituted the security of Washington. And, even
on the supposition that their distance should render it unadvisable to
maintain them, the destruction of the extensive magazines which the
republicans had established there, offered a powerful attraction.
Washington, in effect, who watched all the movements of 'Clinton,
penetrated his designs. Fearing for West Point, and the important
defiles of that part, he retained with him only the force indispensably
requisite to defend the heights of Morrisonia, and detached the rest
upon the banks of the Hudson, under general Greene. The royalists
then marched with rapidity from Elizabethtown towards Springfield.
This place is situated at the foot of the heights of Morrisonia, on the
right bank of a stream that descends from them, and covers it in
front. Colonel Angel guarded the bridge with a small detachment,
but composed of picked men. Behind him the regiment of colonel
Shrieve formed a second line, and ascending towards the heights near
Shorts Hill, were posted the corps of Greene, Maxwell, and Stark.
There were few continental troops, but the militia were numerous
and full of ardor.
On arriving at the bridge, the royalists attacked colonel Angel
with great impetuosity. He defended himself bravely, killing many
of the enemy, and losing few of his own. At length, yielding to
number, he fell back in perfect order upon the second line. The Eng-
lish passed the bridge, and endeavored to pursue their advantage.
Shrieve resisted their efforts for a while ; but too inferior in men,
and especially in artillery, he withdrew behind the corps of Greene.
The English, then examining the situation of places, and the strength
of the American intrenchments, abandoned the design of assaulting
them. Perhaps the approach of night, the impracticable nature of
the country, the obstinate defense of the bridge, the sight of the
militia rushing towards the camp from all parts, and the danger of
losing all communication with Elizabeth^.. ^, contributed to this
abrupt change in the resolutions of the British generals. Exaspe-
MAP
Shetcingthe
SE A T O F W A R
in the
SOUTHERN STATES.
Scale of Miles.
BOOK. XIII. THE AMERICAN WAR 257
rated at these unexpected obstacles, they devoted to pilLge and
flames the flourishing village of Springfield ; they afterwards return-
ed upon Elizabethtown. Enraged at seeing this conflagration, the
republicans pursued the British troops with so much violence, that
only their discipline and the ability of their commanders could have
saved them from total destruction. They profited of the cover of
night to abandon the shores of New Jersey, and passed into Staten
Island. Thus the design of Clinton was baffled by a resistance for
•vhich he was little prepared. The English gained by this expedi-
tion only the shame of repulse, and eternal detestation on the part
of their enemies. Washington, in official reports, greatly commend-
ed the valor of his troops.
But it is time to resume our narrative of the affairs of Carolina.
The English administration, which, after the conquest of that prov-
ince, had been established by the royal troops, deliberated upon the
means of repairing the evils caused by the war and by civil dissen-
sions, in order to confirm the return of monarchical authority. Since
that of the congress had ceased to exist in the country, the paper
currency had fallen into such discredit, that it was not possible to
circulate it at any rate whatever. Many individuals had been forced
to receive, as re-imbursement for credits of longstanding, those depre-
ciated bills ; others had balances still due them upon contracts stip-
ulated according to the nominal value of the paper. It was resolved,
therefore, to compel the debtors of the first to account with them by
a new payment in specie, for the difference that existed between the
real and the nominal value of the bills ; and to establish a scale of
proportion, according to which, those who owed arrearages should
satisfy their creditors in coined money. To this end, thirteen com
missioners were appointed. They were to inform themselves with
accuracy of the different degrees of the depreciation of the paper,
and afterwards to draw up a table of reduction, to serve as a legal
regulation in the payment of the debts above specified. The com-
missioners proceeded in the execution of this difficult task with equal
justice and discernment ; they compared the price of the products
of the country, during the circulation of the bills, with that they had
borne a year before the war. Examining then the different rates
of exchange of the bills for specie, they formed, not only year by year,
but also month by month, a table, the first column of which contain-
ed the dates, the second the ratio of the value of the bills to that of
specie, the third the ratio of the value of bills to the price of produce,
and the fourth the proportional medium of depreciation. This ex-
tinction of the value of bills of credit, occasioned by the presence
of the English in Georgia and Carolina, induced those inhabitants
VOL", ii. ]7
253 THE AMERICAN WAR. BOOK XIII.
who still held them, to carry or send them into oiner provinces, where
they continued to have some circulation. But this influx itself, added
to the loss of Carolina, and the sinister aspect which the situation
of the affairs of congress presented at this epoch, accelerated the fall
of paper money in all the states of the confederation. Too well con-
vinced that there was no remedy capable of arresting the progress
of this appalling evil, the congress determined to yield to the storm.
They decreed that in future their bills should pass, no longer at their
nominal, but only at their conventional value ; and they also drew
up a scale of depreciation for the regulation of payments. This res-
olution, which, though assuredly a violation of the public faith, was,
with the exception of dishonest debtors, both agreeable and advanta-
geous to all classes. Can there, in fact, -exist, for a nation, a great-
er calamity than to have a currency as the representative of money,
when that currency is fixed by law, and variable in opinion ? It is
also to be considered that the bills of credit were then in the hands,
not of the first, but of the last possessors, who had acquired them at
their depreciated value. It was only to be regretted that the congress
had made so many solemn protestations of their intention to main-
tain the nominal value of their paper. Even the tenor of the bills,
the terms of the law of their creation, all the public acts which related
to them, were so many engagements that a dollar in paper should
always be given and received for a dollar in silver. Scarcely were
a few months elapsed since the congress, in a circular letter, had
spoken of the same resolution they had now taken, as a measure of
the most flagrant injustice. In that letter they affirm, that even the
supposition of a similar breach of faith, ought to excite universal ab-
'horrence. But such is the nature of new governments, especially
in times of revolution, where affairs of state are so much under the
control of chance, that they frequently promise what they cannot
perform ; the empire of circumstances seems to them a fair plea for
not keeping faith. Their precarious positions should render them
at least less prodigal of promises and oaths ; but, as inexperienced
as presumptuous, and vainly believing their object attained, when
they have found means to push on for a day, they seem the more
bold in contracting engagements, the less it is in their power to ful-
fill them.
The proclamation by which the British commanders had absolved
the prisoners of war from their parole, and restored them to the
condition of British subjects, in order to compel them to join the
royal troops, had created a deep discontent among the Carolinians.
The greater part desired, since they had lost liberty, to remain at
least in tranquillity at their homes, thus conforming themselves to
BOOK XIII. THE AMERICAN WAR. 259
the time, and submitting to necessity. If this repose had been
granted them, they would not have exerted themselves to obtain a
change ; they would have supported less impatiently the unhappy
situation of the republic ; little by little they would have accustomed
themselves to the new order of things, and would have forgotten the
past. But this proclamation rekindled their rage. They cried with
one voice, ' If we must resume arms, let us rather fight for America
and our friends, than for England and strangers ! ' Many did as
they said. Released from their parole, considering themselves at
liberty to take arms anew, and determined to venture all to serve
their cause, they repaired by circuitous and unfrequented ways into
North Carolina, which was still occupied by the troops of congress.
Others continued to remain in the country, and in the condition of
prisoners of war, deferring to take their resolution till the British
officers should actually summon them to enter the field. The greater
part, submitting to circumstances, could not resolve to abandon their
property, and withdraw into distant provinces, as some of their fel-
low-citizens had done. In dread of the persecutions of the English,
and even of their own countrymen, and desirous to win favor with
their new masters, they had recourse to dissimulation. They pre-
ferred to change their condition, and from prisoners of war to be-
come British subjects. This resolution appeared to them the more
expedient, as a report was then in circulation, perhaps purposely
forged, that the congress were come to the determination no longer
to dispute with the English the possession of the southern provinces.
This rumor was directly opposite to the truth ; for in the sitting of
the twenty-fifth of June, the congress had declared with much so-
lemnity that they purposed to make every possible exertion for their
recovery. But the prisoners of Carolina knew nothing of what
passed without, and from day to day they became more confirmed
in the idea that their country would remain under British domina-
tion. Thus, between choice and compulsion, the multitude resumed
the bonds of submission. But the English could have wished to
have all under their yoke ; they saw with pain that within as well as
without the province, there remained some individuals devoted to
the party of congress. Their resentment dictated the most extraoi
dinary measures against the property and families of those who had
emigrated, and of those who had remained prisoners of war. The
possessions of the first were sequestrated and ravaged ; their fami-
lies were jealously watched, and subjected, as rebels, to a thousand
vexations. The second were often separated from their hearths;
and confined in remote and unhealthy places. These rigors con-
strained some to retract, and bend the neck under the new slavery ;
260 THE AMERICAN WAR. BOOK XIII.
others to offer themselves as good and loyal subjects of the king.
Among them were found individuals who had manifested the most
ardor for the cause of liberty, and who had even filled the first offices,
under the popular government. They generally colored their con-
version with saying, that they had never aspired to independence,
and that they abhorred the alliance of France. Thus men will
rather stain themselves with falsehood and perjury, than live in mis-
fortune and poverty ! Such was the conduct of the inhabitants of
the country ; but those of the city, having, by the terms of capitula-
tion, the right to remain in their habitations, were not comprehended
in the proclamation of the third of June. It was requisite, there-
fore, to employ other means to induce them to stoop to allegiance.
The English and more zealous loyalists maneuvered in such a man-
ner, that more than two hundred citizens of Charleston subscribed
and presented to the British generals an address, by which they
congratulated them upon their victories. This step had been con-
certed. It was answered them, that they should enjoy the protec-
tion of the state and all the privileges of British subjects, if they
would sign a declaration of their allegiance and readiness to support
the royal government. They obeyed ; and their example had many
imitators. Hence arose a distinction between subjects and prisoners.
The first were protected, honored and encouraged ; the second were
regarded with contempt, persecuted and harassed in their persons
and property. Their estates in the country were loaded with taxes,
and even ravaged. Within the city they were refused access to the
tribunals, if they had occasion to bring suits against their debtors ;
while, on the other hand, they were abandoned to all the prosecutions
of their creditors. Thus forced to pay, they were not permitted to
receive. They were not suffered to go out of the city without a
pass, which was often refused them without motive, and they were
even threatened with imprisonment unless they took the oath of al-
legiance. Their effects were given up to the pillage of the soldiery ;
their negroes were taken from them ; they had no means of redress,
but in yielding to what was exacted of them ; while the claims of
subjects were admitted without question. The artisans were allowed
to labor, but not to enforce payment for their work, if their custom-
ers chose to refuse it. The Jews had been permitted to purchase
many valuable goods of the British traders who had followed the
army ; but unless they became subjects, they were not allowed to
sell them. In brief, threats, fraud, and force, were industriously
exercised to urge the inhabitants to violate their plighted faith, and
resume their ancient chains. The greater part had recourse to dis-
simulation, and, by becoming subjects, were made partakers of Brit-
BOOK XIII. THE AMERICAN WAR. %6\
Lsh protection ; others, more firm, or more virtuous, refused to bend.
But they soon saw an unbridled soldiery sharing out their spoils ;
some were thrown into pestilential dungeons ; others, less unfortu-
nate or more prudent, condemned themselves to a voluntary exile.
Amidst the general desolation, the women of Carolina exhibited
an example of more than masculine fortitude. They displayed so
ardent, so rare a love of country, that scarcely could there be found
in ancient or modern history an instance more worthy to excite sur-
prise and admiration. Far from being offended at the name of rebel
ladies, they esteemed it a title of distinction and glory. Instead of
showing themselves in assemblies, the seat of joy and brilliant pleas-
ures, they repaired on board ships, they descended into dungeons,
where their husbands, children and friends were in confinement;
they carried them consolations and encouragements. ' Summon
your magnanimity,' they said ; ' yield not to the fury of tyrants ; hesi-
tate not to prefer prisons to infamy, death to servitude. America
has fixed her eyes on her beloved defenders ; you will reap, doubt it
not, the fruit of your sufferings ; they will produce liberty, that
parent of all blessings ; they will shelter her forever from the assaults
of British banditti. You are the martyrs of a cause the most grate-
ful to Heaven and sacred for men.' By such words these generous
women mitigated the miseries of the unhappy prisoners. They
would never appear at the balls or routs that were given by the vic-
tors ; those who consented to attend them were instantly despised,
and dropped by all the others. The moment an American officer
arrived at Charleston as a prisoner of war, they sought him out, and
loaded him with attention and civilities. They often assembled in
the most retired parts of their houses, to deplore without restraint the
misfortunes of their country. Many of them imparted their noble
spirit to their hesitating and wavering husbands ; they determined them
to prefer a rigorous exile to their interests and to the sweets of life.
Exasperated at their constancy, the English condemned the most
zealous to banishment and confiscation. In bidding a last farewell
to their fathers, their children, their brothers, their husbands,
these heroines, far from betraying the least mark of weakness,
which in men might have been excused, exhorted them to arm
themselves with intrepidity. They conjured them not to allow fortune
to vanquish them, nor to suffer the Icve they bore their families to
render them unmindful of all they owed their country. When com-
prehended, soon after, in the general decree of banishment issued
against the partisans of liberty, they abandoned with the same firm-
ness their natal soil. A supernatural alacrity seemed to animate
them when they accompanied their husbands into distant countries,
262 THE AMERICAN WAR. BOOK XIII.
and even when immured with them in the fetid ships, into which
they were inhumanly crowded. Reduced to the most frightful indi-
gence, they were seen to beg bread for themselves and families.
Among those who were nurtured in the lap of opulence, many passed
suddenly from the most delicate and the most elegant style of living,
to the rudest toils and to the humblest services. But humiliation
could not triumph over their resolution and cheerfulness ; their ex-
ample was a support to their companions in misfortune. To this
heroism of the women of Carolina, it is principally to be imputed,
that the love, and even the name of liberty, were not totally extin-
guished in the southern provinces. The English hence began to be
sensible, that their triumph was still far from secure. For, in every
affair of public interest, the general opinion never manifests itself
with more energy than when women take part in it with all the life
of their imagination. Less powerful as well as less stable than that
of men when calm, it is far more vehement and pertinacious when
roused and inflamed.
Such was the spectacle presented at that time in South Carolina ;
on the one hand, an open resistance to the will of the conqueror, or
a feigned submission ; on the other, measures that continually ope-
rated an effeW directly contrary to that which their authors expected
from them. Meanwhile, the heat of the season, the dubious state
of the province itself, and the necessity of deferring the campaign
until the harvest was over, occasioned an almost general suspension
of arms. It was not possible for the English to think of the con-
quest of North Carolina before the last of August or the beginning
of September. Lord Cornwall-is resolved to canton his troops in
such a manner, that they should be in readiness to support the
loyalists, to repress the discontented, and to undertake the invasion
of that province as soon as the proper season should arrive. He
was particularly careful to collect provision and munitions of war.
His principal magazines were established at Camden, a large village
situated on the banks of the river Wateree, and upon the road which
leads into North Carolina.
He feared, lest the loyalists of that province, stimulated by excess
of zeal, should break out before the time, which might lead to their
destruction. His emissaries continually exhorted them to await the
time of harvest in tranquillity, and to content themselves with prepar-
ing subsistence for the royal troops, who would advance to their
succor towards the month of September. These prudent counsels
had not the effect to prevent the loyalists of Tryon county from
rising at the instigation of colonel Moore. But instantly crushed by
a corps of republicans, under the command of general P^utherford
BOOK XIII. THE AMERICAN WAR. 263
they paid dearly for the contempt with which they had presumed to
treat admonitions dictated by foresight. Eight hundred loyalists,
however, under the conduct of colonel Bryan, made good their junc-
tion with the royal troops. But while the British generals were
making their dispositions to profit of the favorable season to attack
North Carolina, in order to open themselves a passage into the heart
of Virginia, the congress exerted all diligence to put themselves in
a situation to recover South Carolina. Their efforts, as we shall
see, were not without success. Thus the flames of war, for the
moment almost extinguished, were on the point of being rekindled
with more violence than ever.
Before entering upon the recital of the events of the bloody cam-
paign that ensued, it is necessary to describe what passed in the
West Indies between two powerful and equally spirited rivals. Al-
ready a very obstinate action had taken place between the chevalier
de la Motte Piquet and commodore Cornwallis, in the waters of La
Grange, to the east of Cape Francois. The first had four ships,
two of which of seventy-four guns, the Annibal and the Diademe.
The other had only three, the heaviest of which was the Lion, of
sixty-four guns. But this engagement was merely a prelude to the
battles that followed shortly after. About the last of March, the
count de Guichen had arrived in the West Indies with such consid-
erable re-inforcements, that the French fleet there amounted to twen-
ty-five sail of the. line. Resolved to profit of their superiority
oy sea as well as by land, the French embarked a strong body of
troops, under the conduct of the marquis de Bouille, and presented
themselves with twenty-two ships of the line before the island of St.
Lucia. Their intention was to carry it by assault. But general
Vaughan, who commanded on shore, had neglected no measure of
defense ; and admiral Hyde Parker, who had repaired thither from
the coasts of America, had so advantageously posted sixteen sail ot
the line at Gros Islet, that the French commanders abandoned the
project, and returned to Martinico. A few days after, admiral Rod-
ney arrived at St. Lucia with re-inforcements from Europe ; his
junction with Parker placed at his command twenty-two sail of the
line. Full of confidence in his strength, the English admiral sailed
immediately for Fort Royal bay in Martinico, in order to challenge
his enemy to battle. But the count de Guichen, who was not dis-
posed to engage a decisive action, except when he should think it
expedient, did not go out of the port. Rodney, having left some
swift sailing frigates to watch the motions of the French, und to give
notice, in case they should sail, returned with tne remainder of his
fleet to St. Lucia. The count de Guichen did not remain long
264 THE AMERICAN WAR. BOOK XIII.
inactive. He put to sea, in the night of the thirteenth of April, with
twenty-two sail of the line, and four thousand land troops, prepared
to undertake any operation that should offer some hope of success.
Rodney was soon advised of it, and sailed in quest of him ; his fleet
consisted of twenty ships of the line, and the Centurion of fifty guns.
He commanded the center himself, rear-admiral Hyde Parker the
van, and rear-admiral Rowley the rear division. The French were
standing through the channel of Dominica, intending afterwards to
stretch off to windward of Martinico. Their van was under the
conduct of the chevalier de Sade, the main body was led by the
commander-in-chief, the count de Guichen, and the rear by the
count de Grasse. The two armaments came in sight of each other
towards evening, on the sixteenth of April. The French, whose
ships were encumbered with soldiers, and who found themselves
under the wind, endeavored to avoid an engagement. But the Eng-
lish bore down upon them. The count de Guichen profited of the
night to maneuver so as not to be obliged to join battle ; Rodney,
on the contrary, in order to render it inevitable. On the succeeding
morning, the two fleets executed various evolutions with admirable
skill ; and, a little before one o'clock, the French rear was brought
to action by the British van. For it is to be observed, that in tack-
ing to take an inverse order of battle, the French van was become
rear. Meanwhile, Rodney arrived with his division upon the French
center ; his own ship, the Sandwich, of ninety guns, was encounter-
ed by M. de Guichen, in the Couronne, of eighty, and by his two
seconds, the Fendant and Triumphant. But in crowding sail before
the action, the French fleet had not been able to keep its distances
perfectly. Its rear, moreover, which had become head of the line,
being composed of more heavy sailing ships than those of the two
other divisions, there had resulted thence a considerable chasm
between that squadron and the center. This separation was still
increased by the drift of the Actionnaire, which, instead of standing,
as the last vessel of the center, the first of the icar, had suffered
herself to fall to leeward of the line. Rodney resolved to seize the
opportunity, and moved in order to cut off this rear guard from the
rest of the fleet. But the Destin, commanded by M. Dumaitz de
Goimpy, being at the head of that division, threw herself across his
way, and engaged the Sandwich with so much vigor as to arrest his
passage. The French ship would have been crushed, however, by
a force so greatly superior, if the count de Guichen, perceiving the
design of his adversary, had not made a signal to the ships of his
center to put about, and push wind aft, all together, in order to
rejoin and extricate the rear. This movement, executed with
BOOK XIII. THE AMERICAN WAR. 265
extreme celerity, completely baffled the plan of the British admiral,
and, consequently, saved the French fleet from a total defeat. Rod-
ney, now finding himself exposed to have the blow he had meditated
against his adversaiy retorted upon himself, recoiled instantly, and
pressed to regain his place in the line with his other ships. Soon
after he made his dispositions for renewing the action ; but seeing
the crippled condition of several of his ships, and the particularly
dangerous state of the Sandwich, which was with difficulty kept
above water, he thought it more prudent to desist. The count de
Guichen drew off to refit ; he afterwards touches at Guadaloupe, in
order to put ashore his sick and wounded. Rodney continued to
maneuver in the open sea for some days, and then returned to
cruise off Fort Royal bay, hoping to intercept the French fleet,
which he believed was on its way for that anchorage. But at length,
the enemy not appearing, and finding it necessary to disembark the
sick and wounded, and to refit and water his fleet, he put into Choc
bay, in St. Lucia. The loss of the British, in this action, amounted
to one hundred and twenty killed, and to three hundred and fifty-
three wounded. Of the French, two hundred and twenty -one died,
and five hundred and forty were wounded. Rodney, in the report
of the battle which he sent to England, passed high encomiums on
the talents and gallantry of the French admiral ; and added, that he
had been admirably seconded by his officers. This was an indirect
reproach to his own ; of whom, generally, he felt that he had much
reason to complain. The two parties alike claimed the honor of
victory, as it is usual in every combat, the issue of which is not deci-
sive. After having repaired his ships, and taken aboard the troops
under the command of the marquis de Bouille, M. de Guichen again
put to sea. His design was to ascend to windward of the islands by
the north of Guadaloupe, and then to disembark his land forces at
Gros Islet, in St. Lucia. Apprised of this movement, Rodney
immediately set sail in search of the French fleet. He issued from
the channel of St. Lucia, as it was standing off the extremity of
Martinico, towards Point de Salines. At sight of the British arma-
ment, the French admiral became sensible that he must abandon the
attack of St. Lucia. His prudence is to be applauded in abstaining
from coming to battle, although .lis position to windward of the
enemy had placed it in his power ; but he inclined first to secure
the advantages which were offers i him by the nature of those seas,
and the direction of the wind. H2 maneuvered to retain the weather -
gage, and, at the same time, to draw the English to windward oi
Martinico. In case of a check, ne had in that island a certain refuge,
and if victor, he left none for his enemy. The British admiral labor-
266 THE AMERICAN WAR BOOK. Xlil.
ed on his part to gain the wind, and continued to approach more and
more. The hostile fleets had received each a re-inforcement of one
ship of the line ; the French, the Dauphin Royal ; the English, the
Triumph. These evolutions, in which the two admirals displayed
no ordinary degree of skill and judgment in seamanship, were pro-
longed for several days, and still Rodney had not been able to attain
the object of his efforts. The French, whose ships were superior in
point of sailing, to entice the English, as has been said, more to
windward of Martinico, suffered themselves to be approached from
time to time, and then suddenly spreading all sail, departed out of
reach: this sport succeeded with them at first perfectly; but at
length the French were nearly entangled into a general engagement,
in a situation which presented more than one sort of peril ; for their
intention being to avoid it, they found themselves in no suitable order
for battle. The wind had gradually veered to the south. Vigilant
to profit of this change, Rodney put his ships about, and pushed
on the other tack to gain the wind upon the French. He would
have effected his purpose, if the wind had not, in this critical mo-
ment, suddenly shifted to the southeast. The count de Guichen
could then also put himself on the other tack, which movement pre-
sented such a front to the English as no longer permitted them to
gain the wind of him. He afterwards continued to retire in order to
avoid an action. But in consequence of the last maneuvers, the
two fleets being brought within cannon-shot of each other, the Eng-
lish pressed forward their van upon the French rear. It was already
towards night fall, on the fifteenth of May. The headmost of the
British ships, and particularly the Albion, found themselves exposed
unsupported to the fire of the whole French division, and were
excessively damaged. The others rejoined them ; but the French,
being better sailers, then retired. Such was the second rencounter
between admiral Rodney and the count de Guichen. The French
preserved the advantage of the wind. The two armaments contin-
ued in sight of each other during the three ensuing days, both ma-
neuvering according to the plaji of operations adopted by their re-
spective admirals. Finally, in the morning of the nineteenth of
May, the English being advanced to the windward of Martinico about
forty leagues, and distant between four and five, to the southeast,
from the French, the count de Guichen determined to accept battle,
and accordingly took in sail. But as soon as the British van was
within reach, he made a signal for his own to bear down upon u,
and the action was engaged with great spirit on both sides. The
other divisions formed successively in order of battle, the French
retaining the weathergage. The conflict became general; the two
BOOK XIII. THE AMERICAN WAR. 267
fleets combating, the one with its starboard, the other with its lar-
hoard guns. But the ships of the French van and center having
shortened sail in order to come to closer action with the enemy, it
was to be feared lest the English should tack all at once in order to
charge the rear, which was then at a considerable distance astern.
To prevent the fatal consequences that might have ensued from such
a movement on the part of the enemy, M. de Guichen put about
himself, and proceeded to form again in a line with his rear. No
maneuver could have been more suitable to the conjuncture ; if it
had not been executed in season, the French admiral would have
found himself in the most perilous predicament. A few moments
after, nine British ships, having tacked, advanced with a press of sail
upon the French rear ; but when they saw that the main body and
van had rejoined it, and that the three divisions presented themselves
in the best order, they resumed their station in their own line.
Rodney rallied such ships as were dispersed, and again drew up his
fleet in order of battle. The two armaments thus remained in pres-
ence until night, and even till the succeeding morning, but without
renewing the engagement ; they probably found that they had suffered
too much in this and in the preceding action. Rodney sent the
Conqueror, the Cornwall, and the Boyne, which were the most
damaged, to be repaired at St. Lucia, and set sail with the rest of
his fleet for Carlisle bay, in the island of Barbadoes. The Corn-
wall went to the bottom near the entrance of Careenage harbor.
The count de Guichen returned with his fleet to Fort Royal bay, in
Martinico. The loss of the English in these two last actions was
sixty-eight killed, and three hundred wounded. The French lost
one hundred and fifty-eight killed, and upwards of eight hundred
wounded. Among the former were numbered many officers of dis-
tinction, and even the son of count de Guichen. The English
also had to regret several officers of much reputation. Such was
the result of the three battles fought between the French and Eng-
lish in the West Indies ; their forces were nearly equal ; their valor
and skill were entirely so.
Here it may be observed, of what importance are the talents and
experience of commanders to the event of combats, and to preserve
nations from the most terribh reverses. For it is evident, that if
either of the two hostile admirals, in the course of the three days we
have been describing, or during all those which they passed in observ-
ing each otherr had committed a single fault, the defeat and ruin of
his fleet must have been its inevitable consequence.
If hitherto the forces of France and of England had been pretty
equally balanced in the West Indies, it was not long before the first
268 THE AMERICAN WAR BOOK XIII.
acquired a decided superiority, by the junction of a Spanish squad-
ron which arrived in those seas. Spain had conceived an ardent
desire to acquire Jamaica ; and the French as eagerly coveted the
possession of the other islands which were still in the power of the
enemy. If these objects had been attained, the English would have
witnessed the total extinction of their domination in the West Indies.
With such views don Joseph Solano had departed from Cadiz,
about the middle of April, with twelve sail of the line and some
frigates. This squadron escorted upwards of eighty transports, con-
taining eleven thousand Spanish infantry, with a prodigious quantity
of artillery and munitions of war ; an armament as formidable as
flourishing, and suited, without question, to justify the hopes with
which the allied courts had flattered themselves, particularly that of
Madrid. Already don Solano was well on his way across the At-
lantic, shaping his course for Fort Royal, in Martinico. It was there
he purposed to make his junction with all the French forces. Rcd-
ney continued at anchor in Carlisle bay, attending to the health of
his crews, recruiting his provisions and water, and refitting his ships-
He had no mistrust of the storm that was about to burst upon him.
But captain Mann, who was cruising at large with the frigate Cerbe-
rus, fell in with the Spanish convoy ; aware of all the importance of
the discovery, and feeling assured that his admiral would receive it
well, he took upon himself to quit his cruise and return to the West
Indies, in order to give the alarm. Upon this intelligence, Rodney
put to sea with the least possible delay, for the purpose of meeting
the Spanish squadron ; confident of victory, if he could fall upon it
before its union with the French fleet. Conjecturing with reason,
that it was bound to Martinico, he awaited it upon the route usually
taken by vessels destined for that island. His dispositions were very
judicious ; but the prudence and precautions of the Spanish admiral
rendered them fruitless. Without any intimation of the design of
the English, and of the danger that menaced him, don Solano, as if
directed by a secret presentiment, instead of steering directly to-
wards Fort Royal, of Martinico, shaped his course more to the north
on his right, and stood for the islands of Dominica and Guadaloupe.
As soon as he was arrived in their vicinity, he detached a very swift
sailing frigate to the count de Guichon, to request him to come out
nnd join him. The French admiral issued with eighteen ships ; and
being informed that the English were cruising to windward of ths
Antilles, in order to avoid encountering them, he sailed under the
lee of those islands. This voyage was so well conducted, that the
two armaments came together between Dominica and Guadaloupe
Assuredly if all these forces, which greatly surpassed those of Rod-
•**-
BOOK XIII. THE AMERICAN WAR. 269
ney, could have been preserved entire, or if the allies had acted more
in concert, they must have attained their object, namely, the abso-
lute annihilation of the British power in the West Indies. But these
forces, in appearance so formidable, bore within themselves the ele-
ments of their own destruction. The length of the passage, the
want of fresh provision, the change of climate, and the defect rf
cleanliness, had generated among the Spanish soldiers a contagious
fever, which had spread with incredible rapidity, and made horrible
ravages. Besides the deaths in the passage, the squadron had put
ashore twelve hundred sick at Dominica, and at least an equal number
at Guadaloupe and Martinico. The salubrity of the air, and that of
the new diet on which they were put in those islands, did not, how-
ever, abate the fury of the pestilence ; it swept off every day the
most valiant soldiers ; it soon attacked also the French, though with ,„,
less violence than the Spaniards. This unexpected scourge not only
diminished the ardor of the allies, but also deprived them of great
part of the means essential to the success of their enterprises ; they
were, moreover, thwarted by the clash of opinions. The Spaniards
wanted to undertake in the first place the expedition of Jamaica, the
French that of St. Lucia and the neighboring islands. It followed,
that all these projects miscarried alike. Compelled to relinquish the
brilliant hopes with which they had flattered themselves, the allies
re-embarked their troops, scarcely yet well recovered, and made sail
in company towards the leeward islands. The count de Guichen
escorted the Spaniaids into the waters of St. Domingo, and then,
leaving them to pursue their voyage, came to anchor at Cape Fran-
cois. Here he made his junction with the squadron of M. de la
Motte Piquet, who had been stationed in that part for the protection
of commerce. The Spaniards proceeded to the Havanna. At the
news of the juncture of the allied fleets, Rodney repaired to Gros
Islet bay, in St. Lucia. But as soon as he was advised that they
had sailed from Martinico, he profited of a re-inforcernent of ships
and troops that was arrived to him from England, under the conduct
of commodore Walsingham, to put Jamaica in a respectable state of
defense against the attacks of the allies. He kept the rest of his
force at St. Lucia, to watch the motions of the enemy and cover the
neighboring islands. Thus vanished the high hopes which had been
conceived in France as well as in Spain, from the formidable war-
like apparatus directed against the British West Indies. This failure
was less the fault of fortune than of that diversity of interests which
too frequently produces a want of harmony between allies ; they will
not march together towards the same object, and disunited they can-
not attain it.
/
270 THE AMERICAN WAB. BOOK XIII.
The events we have been relating were succeeded, in the West
Indies, by a sort of general truce between the two parties. But
though the fury of men was suspended for a while, that of the ole-
ments broke out in a manner much more tremendous. It was now
the month of October, and the inhabitants of the islands were in the
enjovment of that unexpected tranquillity which resulted from the
cessation of arms, when their shores, and the seas that washed them,
were assailed by so dreadful a tempest, that scarcely would there be
found a similar example in the whole series of maritime records,
however replete with shocking disasters and pitiable shipwrecks. If
this fearful scourge fell with more or less violence upon all the islands
of the V/est Indies, it no where raged with more destructive energy
than in the flourishing island of Barbadoes. It was on the morning
of the tenth that the tornado set in, and it hardly began to abate
forty-eight hours after. The vessels that were moored in the port,
where they considered themselves in safety, were wrenched from
their anchors, launched into the open sea, and abandoned to the
mercy of the tempest. Nor was the condition of the inhabitants on
shore less worthy of compassion. In the following night, the vehe-
mence of the hurricane became yet more extreme ; houses were
demolished, trees uprooted, men and animals tossed hither and
thither, or overwhelmed by the ruins. The capital of the island
was well nigh rased to a level with the ground. The mansion of
the governor, the walls of which were three feet in thickness, was
shaken to its foundations, and every moment threatened to crumble
in ruins. Those within had hastened to barricade the doors and
windows to resist the whirlwinds ; all their efforts were of no avail.
The doors were rent from their hinges, the bars and fastenings for-
ced ; and chasms started in the very walls. The governor with his
family sought refuge in the subterraneous vaults ; but they were soon
driven from that shelter by the torrents of water that poured like a
new deluge from the sky. They issued then into the open country,
and with extreme difficulty and continual perils repaired under the
covert of a mound, upon which the flagstaff was erected; but that
mass being itself rocked by the excessive fury of the wind, the ap-
prehension of being buried under the stones that were detached from
it, compelled them again to remove, and to retire from all habitation.
Happily for them they held together ; for, without the mutual aid they
'ent each olher, they must all inevitably have perished. After a
long and toilsome march in the midst of ruins, they succeeded in
gaming a battery. Where they stretched themselves face downward
on the ground, behind the carriages of the heaviest cannon, still a
wretched and doubtful asylum, since those very carriages were con-
BOOK X11I. THE AMERICAN WAR. 271
tinually put in motion by the impetuosity of tne storm. The other
houses in the city, being less solid, had been prostrated before thnt of
the governor, and their unhappy inhabitants wandered as chance
directed during that merciless night, without shelter and without suc-
cor. Many perished under -the ruins of their dwellings ; others
were the victims of the sudden inundation ; several were suffocated
in the mire. The thickness of the darkness, and the lurid fire of
the lightning, the continual peal of the tkunder, the horrible whistling
of the winds and rain, the doleful cries of the dying, the despondent
moans of those who were unable to succor them, the shrieks and
wailirigs of women and children, all seemed to announce the destruc-
tion of the world. But the return of day presented to the view of
the survivors a spectacle which the imagination scarcely dares to
depict. This island, lately so rich, so flourishing, so covered with
enchanting landscapes, appeared all of a sudden transformed into
one of those polar regions where an eternal winter reigns. Not an
edifice left standing ; wrecks and ruins every where ; every tree sub-
verted ; not an animal alive ; the earth strown with their remains,
intermingled with those of human beings ; the very surface of the
soil appeared no longer the same. Not merely the crops that were
in prospect, and those already gathered, had been devoured by the
hurricane ; tne gardens, the fields, those sources of the delight and
opulence of the colonists, had ceased to exist. In their place were
found deep sand or steril clay ; the enclosures had disappeared ;
the ditches were filled up, the roads cut with deep ravines. The
dead amounted to some thousands ; thus much is known, though the
precise number is not ascertained. In effect, besides those whose
fallen houses became their tombs, how many were swept away by
the waves of the swoln sea and by the torrents, resembling rivers,
which gushed from the hills ? The wind blew with a violence so
unheard of, that if credit be given to the most solemn documents, a
piece of cannon, which threw twelve-pound balls, was transported
from one battery to another at more than three hundred yards dis-
tance. Much of what escaped the fury of the tempest fell a prey
to the frantic violence of men. As soon as the gates of the prisons
were burst, the criminals sallied forth, and joining the negroes, always
prepared for nefarious deeds, they seemed to brave the wrath of
Heaven, and put every thing to sack and plunder. And perhaps the
whites would have been all massacred, and the whole island consign-
ed to perdition, if general Vaughan, who happened to be there at the
time, had not watched over the public safety at the head of a body
of regular troops. His cares were successful in saving a considera-
ble quantity of provision, but for which resource the inhabitant!
272 THE AMERICAN \VAK. BOOK XI1J.
would only have escaped the ravages of the hurricane, to be victims
of the no less horrible scourge of famine. Nor should it be passed
over in silence by a sincere friend of truth and honorable deeds,
that the Spanish prisoners of war, at this time considerably nume-
rous in Barbadoes, under the conduct of don Pedro San Jago, did
every thing that could be expected of brave and generous soldiers.
Far from profiting of this calamitous conjuncture to abuse their
liberty, they voluntarily encountered perils of every kind to succor
the unfortunate islanders, who warmly acknowledged their services.
The other islands, French as well as English, were not much less
devastated than Barbadoes. At Jamaica, a violent earthquake add-
ed its horrors to the rage of the tornado ; the sea rose and over-
flowed its bounds with such impetuosity, that the inundation ex-
tended far into the interior of the island.
In consequence of the direction of the wind, the effects of the sea-
flood were the most destructive in the districts of Hanover and West-
moreland. While the inhabitants of Savanna la Mer, a considerable
village of Westmoreland, stood observing with dismay the extraordi-
nary swell of the sea, the accumulated surge broke over them, and
in an instant, men, animals, habitations, every thing, was carried with
it into the abyss. Not a vestige remained of that unhappy town.
More than three hundred persons were thus swallowed up by the
•vaves. The most fertile fields were left overspread with a deep
stratum of steril sand. The most opulent families were reduced in a
moment to the extreme of indigence. If the fate of those on shore
was deplorable beyond all expression, the condition of those who were
upon the water was not less to be pitied Some of the vessels were
dashed upon shoals and breakers, others foundered in the open ocean,
a few made their way good into port, but grievously battered and
damaged. The tempest was not only fatal .to ships under sail ; it
spared not even those that were at anchor in the securest havens
Some bilged in port, and many we*e drifted out to sea by the resist
less fury of the billows. Among the first was the Thunderer, of
seventy-four guns, which sunk with all on board. Several frigates'
were so shattered that they were not thought worth repairing. The
English had to regret, in all, one ship of seventy-four, two of sixty-
four, and one of fifty guns, besides seven or eight frigates.
Amidst so many disasters, they found, at least, some succor in
the humanity of the marquis de Bouille. A number of English
sailors, the, wretched relics of the crews of the Laurel and Andro-
meda, wrecked upon the coasts of Martinico, fell into the powet
of that general. He sent them free to St. Lucia, saying, that he
would not treat as prisoners men who had escaped the rage of die
BOOK XIII. THE AMERICAN WAR. 273
elements. He expressed a hope that the English would exe^ise the
same generosity towards those Frenchmen whom a similar destiny
might have delivered into their power. He testified his regrets that
he had only been able to save so few of the English seamen, and that
among them there was not a single officer. He concluded with
observing that, as the calamity had been common and general, hu-
manity should be extended alike towards all its victims. The mer-
chants of Kingston, the capital of Jamaica, animated by the most
honorable social sentiments, immediately made a subscription often
thousand pounds sterling for the relief of the sufferers. The parlia-
ment, as soon as it was apprised of this catastrophe, voted, notwith-
standing the pressure of the expenses of the war, a donation of eighty
thousand pounds sterling to the inhabitants of Barbadoes, and anoth-
er of forty thousand to those of Jamaica. Nor was public munifi-
cence the only source of their succors ; a great number of private
citizens likewise contributed largely to alleviate the distresses of.
these unfortunate West Indians.
The fleet of the count de Guichen, and that of admiral Rodney,
were not exposed to the hurricane. The first was already departed
for Europe, in the month of August, escorting, with fourteen sail of
the line, a rich and numerous fleet of merchantmen. In conse-
quence of his departure, and in ignorance of his designs, Rodney,
to whom, moreover, the Spanish troops landed at the Havana gave
no little disquietude, detached a part of his force to cover Jamaica,
and made sail with the rest for New York. But before he reached
the American continent, and even before he departed from the West
Indies, there had happened a surprising revolution in public affairs,
of which we. shall give an account in due time. While men were
engaged in so fierce a war upon the continent, and in the islands of
America, while they had to combat there the fury of the elements,
the belligerent powers were far from remaining inactive in Europe.
Greater unity was observable in the counsels of England ; but, how-
ever excellent her marine, it was inferior in force to that of the allied
courts. These, on the other hand, had more ships and more sol-
diers ; but often directed towards very different objects, by opposite
interests, they did not obtain the success to which they might have
aspired. Thus, for example, the Spaniards, always principally aim-
ing at the conquest of Gibraltar, assembled their forces, and lavished
their treasure, at the foot of that fortress. From the same motive
tney kept their ships in the port of Cadiz, instead of joining them
with those of France, and attempting in concert to strike a decisive
blow at the British power. It followed that France was obliged to
VOL. ii. 18
274 THE AMERICAN WAR BOOK XIII.
send her squadrons into that same port ; and, meanwhile, the British
fleets were blockading her Atlantic ports, intercepting her commerce,
capturing her convoys, and the frigates that escorted then*.
Admiral Geary, who, on the death of sir Charles Hardy, had been
^appointed to the command of the channel fleet, had put to sea with
about thirty sail of the line. He fell in, the third of July, with a fleet
.of French merchantmen, loaded with cochineal, sugar, coffee, and
•cotton, under the guard of the ship of war Le Fier, of fifty guns.
The English gave chase, and captured twelve sail, and probably
would have swept the whole convoy, but for a thick fog and the great
proximity of the coasts of France ; the rest made their ports in
safety. Several other French ships, and even some frigates, fell, a
short time after, into the power of the English, but not without a
gallant resistance. As we cannot go into a narrative of all the en-
counters that took place, we will not, however, omit the name at
least of the chevalier de Kergarion, captain of the Belle Poule, who
with that frigate, of only thirty-two guns, defended himself a long
time against the Nonesuch man of war, of sixty-four, commanded
by James Wallace. Nor was it till after the death of the intrepid
Kergarion, that his successor, M. de la Motte Tabouret, yielded to
the necessity of striking his colors ; his frigate was completely dis-
masted ; the greater part of the crew had perished.
The allies made themselves ample amends for these losses on the
ninth of August. Towards the latter end of July, a numerous fleet
of king's ships and merchantmen had set sail from the ports of Eng-
land for the two Indies. Five of the first, besides much of munitions
of war, arms and artillery, were loaded with an immense quantity
of rigging for the use of the British fleet, stationed in those dis-
tant seas. Eighteen others were either victualing ships or trans-
ports, carrying military stores and recruits, to re-inforce the army
of America. The others were vessels of commerce, whose car-
goes were extremely valuable. This fleet was escorted by the
Romulus ship of the line, and three frigates. It was pursuing its
voyage, having in sight, at a great distance, the coasts of Spain, when,
in the night of the eighth of August, it fell into the midst of a squad-
ron of the combined fleet, which was cruising upon the accustomed
route of ships destined for the East or West Indies. The hostile
squadron was commanded by admiral don Lewis de Cordova. The
English mistook his lanterns at mast head for those of their own com-
mander, and steered accordingly. At break of day, they found them-
selves intermingled with the Spanish fleet. Don Cordova enveloped
them, and shifted the crews of sixty vessels ; the ships of war escaped
BOOK XIII. THE AMERICAN WAR. £75
him. His return to Cadiz was a real triumph. The people flocked
to behold the prisoners, and this rich booty ; a spectacle the more
grateful for being uncommon, and little expected. Near three thou-
sand prisoners were put ashore, of every condition, and of every age.
Of this number were sixteen hundred sailors, a heavy loss for Eng-
land, and passengers not a few. The English even regretted much
less the cargoes of commercial articles than the munitions of war, of
which their armies and fleets in both Indies experienced the most
pressing need. So brilliant a success was received by the Spanish
nation with infinite exultation. The news of it spread, on the con-
trary, a sort of consternation in Great Britain. The ministers found
themselves the objects of the bitterest reproaches ; the public voice
accused them of temerity. ' They knew,' it was exclaimed, ' that
the allies had a formidable force at Cadiz ; why did they not direct
the convoy to avoid the coasts of Spain ? '
The events of maritime war did not divert attention from the siege
of Gibraltar. Spain, as we have already seen, attached an extreme
importance to the conquest of this place. She appeared to make it
the capital object of the war, and the aim of all her efforts. It must
be admitted, in effect, that, apart from all political considerations, so
powerful a monarch could not have seen, without indignation, a for-
tress upon his own territory possessed by foreigners, who, from its
summit, appeared to set him at defiance. Gibraltar revived the his-
tory of Calais, which had also long appertained to England, but which
the French at length recovered ; the Spaniards promised themselves
the like good fortune. Accordingly, after that place had been re-
victualed by Rodney, the Spanish admiral, don Barcelo, exerted all
his vigilance to prevent its receiving any fresh succors. On the
other hand, general Mendjoza, who commanded the troops on shore,
endeavored to press the fortress on the land side. He daily added
new works to his camp of St. Roch, and pushed his approaches with
all possible diligence. But whatever was the assiduity and ability of
the Spanish commanders, they were so thwarted by the instability of
the winds and sea, and the British officers displayed so much talent
and activity, that, from time to time, victualing transports found their
way into the place. The garrison forgot their sufferings, and re-
sumed courage, while the Spaniards could but gnash with rage at
seeing the resistance protracted so long beyond their confident ex-
pectations.
The efforts of the garrison were powerfully seconded by some
ships of war which admiral Rodney had left in the port ; one of this
number was the Panther, of seventy-four guns. To remove so
£76 THE AMERICAN WAH. HOOK XIII.
troublesome an obstacle, the Spaniards formed a design to burn this
squadron with' the transport vessels at anchor behind it. They hoped
even to involve in the conflagration the immense magazines of muni-
tions which had been constructed upon the shore. They prepared
for this purpose seven fire-ships, which were to be accompanied by
an immense number of armed galleys and boats. Don Barcelo ad-
vanced his fleet, and formed it in line of battle across the mouth of
the harbor, as well to direct and second the attack, as to intercept
any vessel that should attempt to escape. On the side of the land,
don Mendoza held himself in readiness to menace the garrison upon
all points ; he was to commence the most vigorous bombardment as
soon as the fire should break out on board the British squadron. The
night of the sixth of June was chosen for the enterprise. The dark-
ness, the wind, and the tide, were alike propitious. The English
manifested a perfect security. The fire-ships advanced, and" every
thing promised success, when the Spaniards, either through impa-
tience, or from the extreme obscurity of the night, misjudging their
distance, or else not wishing to approach nearer, applied the fire with
too much precipitation. This unexpected sight apprised the English
of their danger. Immediately, without terror, and without confu-
sion, officers and soldiers throw themselves into boats, intrepidly
approach the fire-ships, make fast to them, and tow them off to places
where they can do no mischief. The Spaniards, after this fruitless
attempt, withdrew.
Meanwhile, don Mendoza busied himself with unremitting ardor
in urging the labors of his lines. General Elliot, to whom the king
of England had confided the defense of the place, suffered his ad-
versary to go on ; but when he saw his works well nigh completed,
lie opened upon them so violent a cannonade, that in a short time he
demolished and ruined them entirely. He also made frequent sallies,
in which he filled up the trenches, and spiked the artillery of the
besiegers. The English became daily more confident ; the Spaniards,
on the contrary, seemed less animated and sanguine. Chagrined
lhat a handful of men — since the garrison of Gibraltar, including offi-
cers, did not exceed six thousand combatants, — should not only pre-
sume to resist them, but even to attack them with success, they had
recourse to an expedient, which at length rendered the. defense of
the place exceedingly difficult and perilous, and finally operated the
total destruction of the city ; and that was, to construct an immense
number of craft which they called gun-boats. Their burthen was
from thirty to forty tons, and their crew from forty to fifty men ; they
were armed at the prow with a twenty-six pounder ; others mounted
BOOK XIII. THE AMERICAN WAR. 277
mortars. Besides a large sail, they had fifteen oars on each side.
As they were easily worked, it was intended to employ them to over-
whelm the town and forts with bombs and balls during the nights,
and even, if the opportunity should present itself, to attack the
frigates. It was believed that two of these gun-boats might engage
a frigate with advantage, because of their little elevation above the
water, and the diminutive scope they afforded to the balls of the
enemy. The governor of Gibraltar not having a similar flotilla at
his disposal, it became almost impossible for him to avoid its effects
The Spaniards were sensible of it, and this consideration revived
their ardor, and reanimated their hopes.
While the arms of England prevailed upon the American conti-
nent; while those of the two ancient rivals balanced each other in
the West Indies, and the war was carried on in Europe with such
variety of success that it was singularly difficult to conjecture what
would be the issue of the mighty struggle, the situation of affairs in the
United Provinces, which had hitherto offered only doubt and incerti-
tude, began to assume a less ambiguous aspect. It seemed to have
been decreed by defctiny , that the quarrel of America should shake the
whole globe. The coalition of the arms of Holland with those of the
Bourbons and of the congress, seemed to consummate the formida-
ble league that was to level the last stroke at the British power.
From the very commencement of the troubles of America, her cause
had found many more partisans in Holland tnan that of England.
Many motives concurred to this disposition of minds ; the political
opinions which obtained generally in Europe ; the persuasion that
prevailed among the Hollanders that the interests of protestantism
were inseparable from this discussion ; the apprehension entertained
by the dissenters of the usurpations, real or supposed, of the church
of England ; and, finally, the similarity of the present condition of
the Americans to that in which the United Provinces found them-
selves in the time of their wars against Spain. It is, therefore, not
to be wondered at, if the French party in Holland gained every day
upon the English party. It is also to be observed, that even those
most attached to the latter party by the remembrance of ancient
friendship, by the community of commercial predilections, and by
the apprehension of the evil that France might do them in future,
were among the most forward to condemn the policy pursued by the
British government towards its colonies. They censured it the more
sincerely, as they foresaw that one of its inevitable consequences
would be to interrupt the good understanding they wished to pre-
§erve, and to confirm the ascendency of French politics in Holla ad.
278 THE AMERICAN WAK. BOOK XIII.
To these considerations should be added, the jealousy that existed
of the power of the stadtholder, allied by consanguinity to the king
of England ; it was feared lest that monarch might lend him support
to accomplish the usurpations he meditated, or was suspected of
meditating. The republicans, therefore, were not without anxious
apprehensions respecting the intentions of the British government.
They dreaded the dark reach of its policy ; they shuddered in think-
ing that it might one day subject them by the hand of the stgdtholder
to that same destiny which it was now striving to entail on America.
Every day these sinister images were presented to all eyes ; they
had a powerful influence on public opinion. Of the seven United
Provinces, that which inclined the most decidedly for France was
by far the most wealthy and powerful — Holland. The first of the
cities of the republic, Amsterdam, manifested the same sentiments.
To foment these dispositions, and to draw other provinces and
other cities into the same way of thinking, the French government
had recourse to the agency of that love of gain, whose empire is par-
ticularly so despotic with those who apply themselves to commerce
It declared that it would cause to be seized upon sea every Dutch
vessel found employed in any sort of trade with Great Britain, those
only excepted which belonged to the cities of Amsterdam and Har-
lem. The effect of this measure was, that several important cities,
among others Rotterdam and Dordrecht, had gone over to France,
in order to participate in the privileges she granted.
It was already two years since from this complication of different
interests, there had resulted a standing negotiation, at Aix la Cha-
pelle, between John Neuville, acting in the name of the pensioner
Van Berkel, a declared partisan of France, and William Lee, com-
missioner on the part of congress. Van Berkel, as chief of the gov-
ernment of the city of Amsterdam, succeeded, after many and
protracted discussions, in bringing about a treaty of amity and com-
merce between that city and the United States of America. This
treaty, it was said, was merely eventual, since it was not to take
effect until the independence of the colonies should have been ac-
knowledged by England. But was it not a recognition of that inde-
pendence as already absolute, to negotiate and treat with the United
States ? The treaty, it is true, had only been concluded with the
single city of Amsterdam ; but it was hoped that the preponderance
of that capital in the province of Holland would easily draw after it
the rest of thut province, and that the example of Holland woul d
guide the other six.
BOOK XIII. THE AMER1
C!N WAR. 279
These negotiations were conducted with so much secrecy, that no
whisper of them had reached England. But the congress, ardently
desirous that the result of these mysterious stipulations should be as
public as possible, appointed to this effect their president, Laurens,
minister plenipotentiary to the States-General. This resolution was
the more readily adopted, since it was not doubted in America, and
the correctness of the opinion was demonstrated by the event, that
the Dutch were exasperated to the last degree by the insulting
shackles which England attempted to impose on their commerce with
France, and especially by that intolerable seizure of the convoy of
the count de Byland. Far from attempting to palliate these out-
rages, and to appease discontents, M. York, ambassador of the king
of England at the Hague, had just delivered the States-General a
memorial, framed in so arrogant a style, that it was universally
considered as offensive te the dignity of a free and independent
nation.
But fortune, who seems to make her sport of the best concerted
projects, willed that those of the Hollanders should come to the
knowledge of the British ministers before they could receive their
accomplishment. No sooner was Laurens departed from the Amer-
ican shores, than he was encountered and captured off Newfoundland,
by the British frigate Vestal. At sight of the enemy, he had thrown
all his papers overboard ; but by the celerity and dexterity of a
British sailor, they were rescued from the water before they were
materially injured. Laurens was carried to London, and shut up in
the tower as a state prisoner. Among his papers, the British minis-
ters found the treaty above mentioned, and some letters relative to
the negotiations at Aix la Chapelle. Forthwith, M. York made a
great stir at the Hague. He required the States-General, in the
name of his master, not only to disavow the doings of the pensioner
Van Berkel, but also to make instant reparation to his Britannic
majesty, by the exemplary punishment of that magistrate and his
accomplices, as perturbators of the public peace, and violators of the
laws of nations. The States-General withholding their answer, the
British envoy renewed his instances with excessive fervor ; but the
Dutch government, either from its reluctance to drop the mask at
present, or merely from the accustomed tardiness of its deliberations,
signified to York that the affair should be taken under serious con-
sideration. The States-General were -inclined to gain time to recall
into their ports the rich cargoes they had afloat upon the ocean, as
well as those which, in the security of a long peace, had been
deposited in their islands.
280 THE AMERICAN WAR. BOOK XIII.
On tne other hand, the British ministers, goaded by impatience to
lay hand upon those riches, and little disposed to allow the Dutch suf-
ficient leisure to make the necessary war preparations, pretended not
to be at all satisfied with the answer of the States-General. They
recalled the ambassador at the Hague immediately. A little after,
there followed on both sides the usual declarations. Thus were dis-
solved all those relations of ^ood understanding, which had so long
existed between two nations connected by reciprocal congenialities,
and by many and important common interests. This new enemy was
the more to be apprehend! d for England, as his dexterity in maritime
war was rendered more "formidable by his proximity. But on the
one hand, pride, perhaps necessary to a powerful state, and the thirst
of conquest, always blamable and never satisfied ; on the other,
intestine dissensions, and the debility of land force, which inspired
more dread of continental neighbors than could well comport with
independence, precipitated Great Britain and Holland into a war
decidedly and openly condemned by all sound statesmen.
It is time to remand our attention upon the American continent.
After the capture of Charleston and invasion of South Carolina, a
great and astonishing change was wrought in the minds of the colo-
nists. Their salvation resulted from those very causes which seemed
to prognosticate an impending perdition. So true it is that the spur
of adversity forces men to exert^for their own interests, efforts to
which the sweets of prosperity cannot induce them ! Never was
this truth better exemplified than in the present conjuncture ; the
reverses of Carolina, far from having dejected the Americans, devel-
oped in them, on the contrary, a courage more active, and a con-
stancy more pertinacious. They could no longer be reproached
with that torpor which they had manifested in the preceding years,
with that apathy which had been the source of so much pain to their
chiefs, as of such heavy disasters to the republic. A new ardor in
flamed every heart to fly to the succor of country ; there seemed a
rivalry for the glory of immolating all to the republic ; things looked
as if the first days of the revolution were come back, when the same
spirit and the same zeal broke out on all parts against England.
Every where private interests were postponed to the public weal ;
every where it was exclaimed, ' Let us drive this cruel enemy from
the most fertile provinces of the Union ; let us fly to the succoi ol
their inhabitants ; let us crush the satellites of England that have
somehow escaped American steel, and terminate at a single blow n
war protracted too long.' Thus ill fortune had again tempered the
souls of this people, at the very moment when they were supposed
•
I *
,
BOOR XIII. THE AMERIJBN WAR. 281
the victims of dejection and despair. Their mry was still quickened
by the devastations which the royal troops had recently committed
in Carolina and New Jersey. Their hope became confidence, on
observing that the consequences of the reduction of Charleston had
been to divide the enemy's forehand to distribute them at so great
distances, that they might be attacS»at every point with assurance
of success. And how were these hoj% multiplied by the authentic
advice of the approaching arrival of Frfoich succors ! Already a
great number of Americans counted the tnnquest of New York as a
compensation of the occupation of CharlSton.
The marquis de la Fayette was in effect jlst returned from France,
whence he had brought the most cheerifig intelligence. He an-
nounced that the troops were already embarked, and the ships that
bore them on the point of getting under sail for America. This
report might be depended on. The marquis de la Fayette had as-
certained it with his own eyes, after having exerted himself with
much zeal to accelerate the preparatives of the expedition. He was
warmly thanked for it by Washington and the congress. His pres-
ence was grateful to the American people ; it redoubled, especially,
the ardor of the soldiers, who mutually incited one another, to show
themselves not unworthy of the allies they expected. They declared
aloud that an eternal reproach would be their portion, if, through
a base apathy, they should lose the glorious occasion about to be
offered them in this powerful co-operation of France. They re-
minded each other that the eyes of all Europe were upon them, and that
on the issue of the present campaign depended the liberty, the glo-
ry, the future destiny of the American republic. The congress, all
the established authorities, and even private citizens of weight with
the multitude, dexterously profited of this new enthusiasm ; they
neglected no means that could cherish and propagate it. The con-
gress addressed circular letters to all the states, earnestly exhorting
them to complete the regiments, and dispatch to the army the con-
tingent that each of them was bound to furnish. These instances
were strongly seconded by generals Washington, Reed, and other
influential chiefs.
Their efforts had all the success desirable. The militia had recov-
ered their spirits, and they rejoined their colors from all quarters.
The authority of congress revived on every side, and acquired new
vigor. Sensible to the wants of the state, the capitalists subscribed
with promptitude considerable sums to the relief of the public treas-
ure, the exhaustion of which was then extreme. The city of Phil-
adelphia first gave the example of these sacrifices ; it was not un-
282 THE AMtKICAN WAR. BOOK XIII.
fruitful. It was soon followed by all Pennsylvania and the other
provinces. The ladies of Philadelphia, animated by the most ardent
patriotism, formed a society, and placed at their head mistress Wash-
ington, a wife worthy of such a husband. After having subscribed
for the use of the state to the extent of their means, they went from
house to house to stimulate ttje liberality of the citizens in favor of
the republic. Their zeal was not steril ; they collected large sums,
which they lodged in the public chest, to be used in bounties to such
soldiers as should merit them, and in augmentation of pay to all.
They were imitated with fnthusiasm by the ladies of the other states.
But among all the institudbns that signalized this epoch, none is more
worthy of attention than the establishment of a public bank. The
funds lodged in it by the stockholders, by lenders, and by congress,
might be employed to defray the army. The congress found herein
not only a great facility on the part of the most wealthy commercial
houses of Philadelphia, but even received from them the most gen-
erous offers. The subscribers obligated themselves to furnish a cap-
ital of three hundred thousand pounds Pennsylvania currency, which
rates the Spanish dollar at seven shillings and sixpence. It was to
have two directors, with authority to borrow money upon the credit
of the bank for six months, or any shorter time, and to give the
lenders bills bearing an interest of six per cent. The bank was to
receive the deposits of congress ; that is, the public revenue accru-
ing from taxes or other sources ; but when these deposits and the
funds borrowed should not suffice, the stockholders were bound to
furnish such proportion as should be deemed necessary, of the sums
for which they might have subscribed. The sums obtained in the
different ways above mentioned, were not to be employed for any
other purpose but that of procuring supplies for the troops. The
stockholders were to appoint an agent, whose office it should be to
make purchases, and to transmit the articles bought, such as meat,
flour, rum, etc., to the commander-in-chief, or to the minister of
war ; this agent should have authority to draw upon the directors for
his payments. The said agent was also to keep open a store well
stocked with rum, sugar, coffee, salt, and other articles of general
consumption, with obligation to sell them by retail at the same price
he should have bought them for in quantity of those with whom he
should have contracted for the supplies of the army, with a view of
being more promptly and better served by those contractors. Al-
though, out of the bank, few lenders presented themselves, because
the greater part, before advancing their money, would have wished
more stability in the state, yet subscribers were soon found for a
BOOK XIII. THE AMERICAN WAR.
capital of three hundred and fifteen thousand pounds of Pennsylva-
nia. Each of them gave their written obligation to furnish the di-
rectors a definite sum in gold or silver coin. Thus, private citizens,
prompted by the most laudable zeal for the country, stepped forward
to support the public credit with their personal responsibility ; a con-
duct the more worthy of encomium, as the situation of affairs still
offered but too many motives of doubt and distrust.
Could it have been imagined, however, that at the very moment
when a victorious enemy still threatened the existence of their infant
republic, the Americans did not rest content with offering their blood
and their treasure for its defense ? Amidst the din of arms, they
were studious to accelerate the advancement of philosophy, science
and the arts. They reflected that, without the succor of these
lights, war tends directly to barbarism, and even peace is deprived
of its most precious sweets. In devoting themselves to these noble
cares, they regarded not merely the advantages that were to redound
thence for the greater civilization of their country ; they had also in
view to demonstrate at home and abroad, by this profound security,
in the midst of so many agitations, what was their contempt for the
danger, and their confidence in the success of their enterprise. Such
were the considerations under which the state of Massachusetts
founded at Boston a society, or academy of arts and sciences. Its
statutes corresponded to the importance of the institution. Its labors
were principally directed to facilitate and encourage a knowledge of
the antiquities and natural history of America ; to ascertain the uses
to which its native productions might be applied ; to promote medi-
cal discoveries, mathematical inquiries, physical researches and ex-
periments, astronomical, meteorological and geographical observa-
tions ; improvements in the processes of agriculture, arts, manufac-
tures and commerce ; the academy was, in brief, to cultivate every
art and science that could tend to advance, according to its own lan-
guage, the ( interest", the honor, the dignity, and the happiness of a
free, independent and virtuous people.' On the fourth of July, after
having celebrated with the greatest solemnity the anniversary of in-
dependence, the president of congress, the governor of the state of
Pennsylvania, and the other authorities, both of the city and prov-
ince, as also the chevalier de la Luzerne, the minister of France,
repaired with nc ordinary pomp to the university, to attend the col-
lation of degrees. The director ol the studies delivered an address
well suited to the occasion. The generous spirit of the students
was fired with new ardor for their country ; all the audience shared
their enthusiasm, and drew from it the must felicitous presages. Il
284 THE AMERICAN WAR. BOOK XIII
was amidst this general display of zeal and efforts to proceed with
honor in the chosen career, that the succors sent by France to the
support of her allies, made their appearance at Rhode Island. At
this sight, transports of exultation burst forth throughout the Amer-
ican continent. They consisted of a squadron of seven sail of the
line, among which was the Due de Bourgogne, of eighty-four guns,
with five frigates and two corvettes, under the conduct of M. de
Ternay. This force convoyed a great number of transports, which
brought six thousand soldiers, at the orders of the count de Rocham-
beau, lieutenant-general of the armies of the king. According to
an agreement made between the court of Versailles and the congress,
Washington, as captain-general, was to command in chief all the
troops, as well French as American. The king of France had
created him, to this intent, lieutenant-general of his armies, and vice-
admiral of his fleets. The inhabitants of Newport celebrated the
arrival of the French by a general illumination. General Heath
received them with every mark of welcome and courtesy.
It being rumored at that time that Clinton meditated an attack upon
Rhode Island, the French troops were put in possession of all the
forts. They fortified themselves therein with so much diligence, that
in a short time they were in a situation to defy the efforts of any
enemy whatsoever.
The general assembly of the state of Rhode Island sent a deputa-
tion to compliment the general of his most Christian majesty. They
said many things of the profound acknowledgment of America to-
wards that generous monarch. They promised on their part every
sort of aid and succor. The count de Rochambeau answered them
that the corps he had brought was merely the vanguard of the army
which the king his master was about to send to their assistance. That
his majesty sincerely wished the liberty and happiness of America,
and that his troops should observe an exemplary discipline among
those whom they were to regard in the light of kindred. He con-
cluded with saying, that, as brothers, he himself, his officers, and all
his people, had voluntarily devoted their lives to the service of the
Americans.
The presence and promises of the French general inspired all
hearts with courage and with hope ; but the partisans that England
had preserved in the country, were forced to disguise their rage.
Washington, the more to cement the union of the two nations, ordered
that in the banners of his army, the ground of black, which is the
color of America, should be surrounded with white, the distinctive
color of France.
BUCK XIII. THE AMERICAN WAR. £35
At this epoch, admiral Arbutlmot, who still occupied the New
York station, had with him only four ships of the line ; and, far from
contemplating an attack, was himself in dread of being attacked. A
few days after, however, admiral Graves arrived from England, with
six other sail of the line. This superiority of force decided the Eng-
lish to undertake an expedition against Rhode Island. Admiral
Graves repaired thither first with his squadron, to see if any mean
would offer itself to destroy that of the enemy in the very harbor of
Newport ; but the French had made such imposing preparations of
defense, that, without temerity, nothing could be attempted against
them. The British squadron made the best of its way back to New
York. Meanwhile, general Clinton, being resolutely determined not
to suffer the French to establish themselves on a permanent footing
in that part, formed a design to attack Rhode Island with a picked
corps of six thousand men, that should disembark at some point the
most favorable to the enterprise. The admiral gave into the plan,
although, to his private judgment, it presented little probability of suc-
cess. The British squadron got under sail, and already it had pro-
ceeded as far as Huntingdon bay, in Long Island, when Washington,
who watched all the movements of his adversary, began to stir.
Seeing general Clinton advance with so considerable a corps, and
finding himself, thanks to fresh re-inforcements, at the head of twelve
thousand men, he descended by forced marches along the banks of the
Hudson. Arrived at Kings Bridge, he menaced to carry even the city
of New York, then disgarnished, and exposed almost without defense
to a coup de main. On the other hand, the militia of New England
had run to arms, panting to give the French, in the outset, a high
notion of their force and of their zeal. Already ten thousand men
were on the march towards Providence, and a still greater number
were preparing to follow them. The British generals were not long
in being apprised of all these movements, and found themselves still
more divided in opinion than before. These motives, combined, de-
termined Clinton to relinquish his projects ; he returned without delay
to New York, with all his forces. The timidity manifested by the
English in this occurrence, was a fresh spur to the ardor of the Amer-
icans. They already considered the garrison of New York as van-
quished, and within their grasp. They had, moreover, a particular
subject of encouragement. The French that were arrived in Rhode
Island, had brought an immense quantity of the coined money of their
country. According to the custom of the military of their nation,
they never lost any occasion of spending it to the last crown. It fol-
lowed that in a short time French specie became so common in the
286 THE AMERICAN WAR. BOOK XIII.
United States, as to restore some vigor to the body politic, which,
from the exhaustion of its finances, was become languid to a point
even almost threatening an absolute dissolution. The bills of credit,
it is true, experienced an increase of depression ; but this evil excited
no alarm. For a long time, this paper had lost all confidence, and
the state soon after relieved itself of it altogether, as will be seen in
the sequel of this history.
The various causes we have noticed had generally infused new
life into the Americans of the different states ; but it is to be observ-
ed that they operated with more efficacy on the inhabitants of the
southern provinces. These were more immediately exposed to dan-
ger, and they had, besides, peculiar motives for detesting the inso-
lence of the English. Accordingly, as soon as the occasion was
offered them, they assembled upon different points of North Carolina,
and upon the extreme frontier of South Carolina. These assemblages,
commanded by daring chiefs, gave no little annoyance to the royal
troops. They insulted their posts, and sometimes even carried them.
But among all the officers who distinguished themselves at the head
of these desultory parties, none appeared with more splendor than colo-
nel Sumpter. Born himself in South Carolina, his personal impor-
tance, military talents and prowess, had rendered him there an object
of general consideration. The greater part of those Carolinians whom
their aversion to British domination had induced to fly from their
homes, had hastened to place themselves under the standard of their
intrepid fellow-citizens. They were already sufficiently numerous to
keep the field, and to menace the enemy upon all points. They had
no pay, no uniforms, nor even any certain means of subsistence ; they
lived upon what chance, or their own courage, provided them. They
experienced even a want of arms and munitions of war ; but they
made themselves rude weapons from the implements of husbandry ;
instead of balls of lead, they cast them of pewter, with the dishes
which the patriots cheerfully gave them for that purpose. These
resources, however, were very far from sufficing them. They were
seen, several times, to encounter the enemy with only three charges
of ammunition to a man. While the combat was engaged, some of
those who were destitute of arms or ammunition, kept themselves
aside, waiting till the death or wounds of their companions should
permit them to take their place. The most precious fruit, to their
eyes, of the advantage? they gained over the English, was that of
being enabled to acquire muskets and cartridges at the expense of
the vanquished. At length, colonel Sumpter, finding himself nt the
head of a numerous corps, attacked one of the most important posi-
BOOK XIII. THE AMERICAN WAR. 297
tions of the enemy, at Rocky Mount. He was repulsed, but not
discouraged. Never giving repose either to himself or to his adver-
saries, he fell, a short time after, upon another British post, at Hang-
ing Rock, and put to the edge of the sword all that defended it,
regulars and loyalists. He subjected to a similar fate colonel Bryan,
who was come from North Carolina with a body of loyalists of that
province. Infesting the enemy upon all points at once, he eluded
all their efforts to quell him. His invincible courage and perfect
knowledge of the country offered him continually new resource*
As rapid in his attacks as industrious in his retreats, victor or van-
quished, he escaped all the snares of his foes. Colonel Williams
served no less usefully the same cause, at the head of a light detach-
ment of Carolinians of the district of Ninety-Six. In one of his
frequent excursions he surprised and cut in pieces a body of loyalists
on the banks of the river Ennoree. This partisan war had the
double advantage of restoring confidence to the Americans, of con-
tinually mining the forces of the English, and of supporting the
party of congress in tttese provinces. These smart skirmishes were
only, however, the prelude of the bloody battles that were about to
ensue between the principal armies.
As soon as Washington was first apprised of the siege of Charles-
ton, he had put on the march towards South Carolina a re-inforce-
ment of fourteen hundred continental troops of Maryland and of
Delaware, under the conduct of the baron de Kalb. That officer
displayed great activity in the execution of his orders, and, if it had
been possible for him to gain the point of his destination, it is proba-
ble that things would have taken another direction. But the defect
of provision, the difficulty of places, and the excessive heat of the
season, opposed him with such and so many impediments, that he
could only progress step by step. It is related, that this detachment
had no other subsistence for many days than the cattle that were
found astray in the woods. Sometimes, finding themselves totally
destitute of flesh and flour, the soldiers were constrained to sustain
life with the grain of unripe wheat and such fish as they could pro-
cure ; they supported such hardships and distress with an heroic
constancy. In passing through Virginia, they were re-inforced by
the militia of that province ; and, on their arrival at the banks of
Deep river, they made their junction with the troops of North Caro-
lina, commanded by general Caswell. These detachments, combined,
formed a corps of six thousand effective men ; a force so considera-
ble with respect to the United States, as to induce the congress to
employ it without delay for the expulsion of the English from the
288 THE AMERICAN WAR. BOOK XIII.
two Carolinas. Wishing to confide this operation to a man whose
name should exercise a happy influence, they made choice of gen-
eral Gates. The baron de Kalb was recalled ; as a stranger, unac-
quainted with the country, and ignorant of the proper mode of gov-
erning undisciplined militia, he could not retain the command.
General Gates arrived at the camp on Deep river the twenty-fifth
of July. He immediately reviewed the troops, to ascertain their
number and quality. He afterwards advanced upon the Pedee
river, which, -in the lower parts, separates the northern from the
southern Carolina. The name and fortune of Gates produced so
favorable and so rapid an effect, that not only the militia flocked to
his standard, but also that munitions and provision abounded in his
camp. The general impulse was given. Already the inhabitants
of that tract of country which extends between the Pedee and Black
rivers, were in arms against the royal troops. Colonel Sumpter,
with a corps of infantry and light horse, incessantly harassed the
left of the English, in the hope of intercepting their communication
with Charleston ; his parties scoured all the environs.
As soon as general Gates was arrived upon the confines of South
Carolina, he issued a proclamation, by which he invited the inhab-
itants to join him in vindicating the rights of America. He promised
an entire amnesty, and remission of all penalty in favor of those from
whom the victors should have extorted oaths, excepting only such
individuals as should have exercised acts of barbarity or depredation
against the persons and property of their fellow-citizens. This proc-
lamation was not unfruitful ; not only the people ran to arms in
multitude to support the cause of congress, but even the companies
levied in the province for the service of the king either revolted or
deserted. Strengthened by these accessions, colonel Sumpter be-
came every day a more formidable enemy for the English. While
Cornwallis was occupied at Charleston with the administration of
Carolina, lord Rawdon had taken the command of the troops can-
toned at Camden and the adjacent country. He haJ directed
upon Georgetown a convoy of sick soldiers, under the escort of a
detachment of Carolinians, commanded by colonel Mills. About
the middle of the toute, these militia mutined, and having seized their
officers, conducted them with the sick English to the camp of gene-
ral Gates. Colonel Lisle, one of those who had taken oath to the
king, gained over a battalion of militia that had been levied in the
name of Cornwallis, and led it entire to colonel Sumpter. The
latter, who incessantly scoured the western bank of the Wateree, had
captured considerable convoys of munitions of war, rum anci pro-
BOOK XIII. THE AMERICAN WAR. 289
vision that had been sent from Charleston upon Camden. There
had also fallen into his power, at the same time, a great number of
sick, with the soldiers that formed their escort. Already the route
from Camden to Ninety-Six was invested by the republicans ;
and they began to show themselves in force upon that from Cam-
den to Charleston. Thus the affairs of the king in the Carolinas
began to assume an unfavorable aspect. Lord Rawdon, seeing so
lowering a tempest about to burst upon him, and destitute of suffi-
cient means to avert its effects, concentered what troops he had in
the vicinity of Camden, and distributed his cantonments upon the
right bank of Lynches Creek. He hastened to give notice of his
critical position to lord Cornwallis. In the meantime, Gates ap-
peared with all his forces upon the other bank, and encamped in the
front of the enemy. There ensued very warm and frequent skir-
mishes, with balanced success. The American general would have
desired a decisive action, and to profit of his superiority to attack
lord Rawdon even in his quarters. But on examination, finding the
enemy's position too strong, he dropped the design. His conduct
appeared dictated by wisdom ; but at the same time, he let slip an
opportunity for gaining a signal advantage. If he had ascended by
forced marches to the source of the Lynche, he turned without
difficulty the left wing of lord Rawdon, and might even seize
Camden on the rear of the British army ; this stroke would have
decided the fate of the campaign ; but either Gates did not see it,
or was afraid to undertake it. A short time after, the British gene-
ral, seeing his right menaced by a movement of the Americans, and
fearing for his magazines and hospital, abandoned the banks of
the Lynche, and fell back upon Camden with all his troops.
His retreat was in no shape molested by the enemy. At that-
very time lord Cornwallis arrived in camp. Having surveyed the
slate of things, and finding to what a degree the forces and auda-
city of the republicans were augmented, he detached numerous par-
ties on discovery, filled up the companies with the more vigorous
convalescents, ordered distributions of arms, and the remounting of
Tarleton's legion, which needed horses. Notwithstanding all hia
efforts, he had not, however, been able to assemble above two thou-
sand men, of whom about fifteen hundred were veteran troops, the
rest loyalists and refugees. To attack, with means so feeble, an
enemy so superior, appeared little less than temerity. Cornwallia
might indeed have made his retreat to Charleston ; but in that case
he must have left about eight hundred sick, with a vast quantity of
valuable stores, to fall into the hands of the enemy. He likewise
VOL. II.
19
290 THE AMERICAN WAR. BOOK XIII.
foresaw, that excepting Charleston and Savannah, a retreat would
be attended with the loss of the two whole provinces of South Caro-
lina and Georgia. On the other hand, he observed, that the major
part of his army was composed of soldiers as perfectly equipped as
jnured to war, and commanded by officers of approved valor and
.ability. He saw in victory the entire reduction of the two Carolinas,
whereas even discomfiture could scarcely have worse consequences
•tlian retreat.
.Under these considerations, he determined not only to face the
enemy, but even to hazard a general action. Camden, the center
of the British line, not being a fortified place, and the boldest reso-
lutions being often also the most fortunate, Cornwallis would not
await the Americans in his cantonments. He formed a design to
attack the position of Rugeleys Mills, which the enemy occupied,
with a view of forcing him to an engagement. On the fifteenth of
August, all the royal troops were ordered to hold themselves in readi-
ness to march. About ten o'clock in the evening, the columns put
themselves in motion for Rugeleys. The first, commanded by colonel
Webster, consisted in light infantry and dragoons. The second,
under the conduct of lord Rawdon, was composed of Irish volun-
teers and loyalists. Two English battalions formed the reserve. In
the rear was the baggage and a detachment of grenadiers. The
English marched, amid the obscurity of the night, in the most pro-
found silence. The columns passed the little stream of Saunder,
and had already left Camden ten miles behind them. But while
the English were advancing upon Rugeleys Mills, the Americans
themselves had quitted that place, at ten o'clock, with intent to sur-
prise them. Gates and Cornwallis had both at once formed the
same design, the one against the other. The American van con-
sisted in the legion of cavalry of colond Armand, flanked on the
right by the light infantry of colonel Porterfield, and on the left by
the light infantry of major Armstrong. Next, marched the brigades
of Maryland regulars, with the militia of North Carolina and Vir-
ginia. The baggage followed the rear guard, formed of a numer-
ous corps of volunteers, with light horse at the two flanks. Gene-
ral Gates had commanded his troops to march compactly and in si-
lence, and not to fire without order. He had sent to Wacsaw, on
his rear, the sick, the unnecessary baggage, in a word, whatever
might tend to impede his march. So many precautions, on both sides,
indicated that the two generals had mutually penetrated one the
other. It was yet only two in the morning, when the advanced
guard of the British army encountered the head of the first Ameri-
BOOK Xlli. THE AMERICAN WAR. 291
can column. It was briskly repulsed by colonel Porterfield ; but
that officer received a serious wound. The English, supported by
two regiments of infantry, charged the Americans in their turn. The
action was engaged with spirit, and the loss considerable on both
sides ; but, all of a sudden, equally fearing to hazard a nocturnal
conflict, the two generals suspend^ the fire, and again the most
profound silence reigned in the midst of darkness ; the day was im-
patiently awaited.
Meanwhile, Cornwallis ascertained by the people of the country,
that the ground was as propitious to him as" it was unfavorable to the
enemy. Gates, in effect, could not advance to the attack but through
a narrow way, bordered on either side by deep swamps. This cir-
cumstance, by depriving the Americans of the advantage of supe-
rior number, re-established an equality of forces. The British gen-
eral formed his plan of battle accordingly. By daylight he disposed
the front of his army in two divisions ; that of the right, commanded
by colonel Webster, had its right flank covered by a morass, and its
left supported upon the great road ; the other division, under the
conduct of lord Rawdon, had in like manner a morass on its left,
while its right was re-united by the highway to the corps of Web-
ster. The artillery was placed between the two divisions. A bat-
talion, drawn up behind each, served them as a sort of rear guard.
Tarleton's legion was posted upon the right of the road, in readi-
ness to attack the enemy or receive him, according to the occasion.
The Americans, on their part, made all the dispositions that appeared
to them the most suitable. Gates divided his vanguard in three
columns. That of the right, commanded by general Gist, having
the morass on its right, connected by its left upon the great road
with the column of the center, composed of the North Carolina mili
tia, led by general Caswell. The column of the left comprised the-
rnilitia of Virginia, at the orders of general Stevens. Behind the
Virginian^ were posted the light infantry of Porterfield and Arm-
strong. Colonel Armand had placed his cavalry behind the left, to
fo.ce the legion of Tarleton. The continental troops of Maryland
and Delaware formed the reserve. They were inured to war, and
upon their valor rested the chief hope of success. They were com-
manded by general Smallwood. The artillery was placed in part
upon the right of the continental troops, and in part upon the
highway.
Such was the order of battle of the two armies ; when, just as the
action was about to commence, Gates, not satisfied with the position
of the divisions of Caswell and Stevens, very imprudently ordered
292 THE AMERICAN WAR. BOOK X11I.
them to change it for another which appeared to him better. Corn-
wallis, at sight of this movement, resolved to profit of it instantly.
Accordingly, he ordered colonel Webster to advance and make a
vigorous attack upon Stevens, whose troops were still undulating,
from their not having yet been able to reform their ranks. Colonel
Webster obeyed with celerity. The battle thus commenced be-
tween the right of the English and the left of the Americans ; it soon
became general. The morning being still and hazy, the smoke
hung over and involved both armies in such a cloud that it was diffi-
cult to see the state of destruction on either side. The British
troops, however, intermingling a quick and heavy fire with sharp
charges at the point of the bayonet, evidently gained ground upon
the Americans. At length the Virginians, pressed by colonel Web-
ster, and already half broken by the unadvised movement directed
by Gates, after a feeble resistance, shamefully betook themselves to
flight. The Carolinian militia, finding themselves uncovered, soon
began to give way, and at last turned the back with a similar base-
ness. Their officers attempted in vain to rally them ; they were
themselves involved in the rout. The left wing of the Americans
was totally broken ; Gates and Caswell made some efforts to reform
it ; but Tarleton adroitly seized the decisive moment, and, with a fu-
rious charge, carried to its height the confusion and consternation of
that wing ; all the troops that composed it threw themselves into the
neighboring woods. Their flight exposed the left flank of a Caro-
linian regiment, and of the regulars of Maryland and Delaware, who
were already attacked in front. The right wing of the English, now
completely victorious, turned furiously upon the American center.
This division defended themselves with the utmost gallantry ; if it
was not in their power to restore the fortune of the day, they saved
at least the honor of the republican standard.
Opposing the enemy with a terrible fire, or the push of their bayo-
nets, they withstood all his efforts. The baron de Kalb led them
several times to the charge ; and they even recovered lost ground.
But at length, surrounded on all sides, overwhelmed by number, and
penetrated by cavalry, they were constrained to abandon the field oi
battle, but without having left a bloodless victory to their foes.
Pierced with eleven wounds, the baron de Kalb fell dying into the
power of the victors. The rout was general ; each provided for his
own safety. General Gist could rally no more than a hundred in-
fantry, and the dragoons of Armand. The British cavalry pursued
the vanquisned with vehemence for the space of twenty-three miles,
and without halting, till exhaustion imposed the necessity of repose.
BOOK XIII. THE AMERICAN WAR. 293
The loss of the Americans in this action was very considerable.
The number of the dead, wounded and prisoners, was estimated at
upwards of two thousand. Among the first was general Gregory,
and among the prisoners, the baron de Kalb, and general Rutherford,
of Carolina. Eight pieces of brass cannon, two thousand stand of
arms, several colors, with all the baggage and stores, fell into the
hands of the conqueror. The loss of the British, in killed and
wounded, amounted, including officers, only to three hundred and
twenty-four.
Three days after the battle, the baron de Kalb, perceiving the
approach of death, requested his aid-de-camp, the chevalier Dubuis-
son, to express, in his name, to generals Gist and Small wood, his high
sense of the valor displayed in the battle of Camden by the regular
troops of Maryland and Delaware. He spent his last breath in declar-
ing the satisfaction which he then felt in having fallen in the defense
of a cause so noble, and, to him, so dear. The congress ordered
that a monument should be erected to him at the city of Annapolis,
the capital of Maryland.
General Gates was reproached with several grave errors. The
least excusable was doubtless that of having undertaken to change
his order of battle in presence of the enemy. Perhaps he was also
in fault to march in the night unwarlike militia, who knew not even
how to keep their ranks. He retreated ~> Hillsborough, in North
Carolina. Generals Gist and Sir,; 11 back upon Charlotte-
town, and afterwards upon Salisbury, where rhey endeavored to rally
the fugitives and to reorganize their divisions ; but the cause of Eng-
land triumphed throughout the province of South Carolina ; the
banners of the republic no longer waved in any part of it. Colonel
Sumpter alone continued to show himself :pon the banks of the
Wateree, with a corps of about a thousand men, and two field pieces.
But on the news of the late discomfiture of Gates, he retired
promptly towards the fords of Catawba, in the upper parts of North
Carolina. Lord Comwallis, a man of great activity, reflecting that
his advantages were insecure till he should have destroyed this last
body of republicans, detached colonel Tarleton in pursuit of it. The
latter, moving with his accustomed celerity, fell unexpectedly upon
the position of Sumpter, who had thought he might take some re-
pose on the banks of Fishing creek. Tarleton surprised him so
completely, that his men, lying totally careless and at ease, were
mostly cut off from their arms. Their only resource was in a prompt
flight ; but a great number fell into the hands of the enemy, who
slaughtered them after they had surrendered. Tarleton alledged
294 THE AMERICAN WAR. BOOK XIII
that he could not grant them life, because his whole party was not
equal in number to one third of Sumpter's. At length the carnage
ceased, when the English and loyalists that were detained prisoners
in the rear of Sumpter's position had been liberated. The cannon,
stores and baggage, were the prey of the victors. Colonel Sumpter,
with a few of his followers, made good their escape. The disaster
of his corps could not be imputed to hinr. ; he had not omitted to
send out scouts upon the direction of the enemy, but that service
was acquitted with an unpardonable negligence. Tarleton returned
to Camden the third day, with his prisoners, booty, and the loyalists
he had retaken.
After the battle of Camden, Cornwallis, in order not to lose by
his tardiness the fruits of victory, could have wished to advance imme-
diately into North Carolina, a feeble province, and very ill disposed
towards the congress. Thence he could march to the conquest of
Virginia. Unquestionably, the presence of the victorious army in that
part would have dispersed the relics of the vanquished, prevented
their rallying anew, and encouraged the friends of the roya1 cause
to show themselves, and even to act. But the British general en
countered divers obstacles that opposed the execution of this plan.
The heat of the season was excessive, the climate unhealthy, and the
hospitals were encumbered with wounded and sick. The nQcessaries
for encampment were almost entirely wanting ; there was not ? sin-
gle magazine upon the frontjprs of the Carolinas ; and North Caro-
lina could furnish but very little provision. Yielding to these con-
siderations, Cornwallis relinquished all ulterior operation, distributed
his troops in cantonments, and returned to Charleston. He thought
himself sure at least of the submission of all South Carolina, and of
the not distant conquest of North, as soon as the season and the state
of his magazines should favor the enterprise. In the meantime, he
wrote frequently to the friends of royalty in North Carolina, exhort-
ing them to take arms, to assemble in force, and to make themselves
masters of the most ardent republicans, with their munitions and
magazines. He counseled them even to seize the fugitives and
stragglers of the rebel army. He promised them, that it should not
be long before he marched to their assistance. And to inspire them
wth confidence in his words, even before he could move with his
whole army, he detached major Ferguson, an able and enterprising
partisan, upon the western frontiers of North Carolina. He had
under his command a thousand loyalists and a corps of cavalry. His
mission was to encourage by his presence the enemies of the revo-
lution, and especially to open a correspondence with the inhabitants
BOOK XIII. THE AMERICAN WAR. 295
of Tryon county, who, more than tht others, showed themselves at
tached to the name of England.
Unable to operate in tiie field, Cornwallis turned his attention to-
wards the internal administration, in order to consolidate the acqui-
sition of South Carolina. Resolved to have recourse to extreme
remedies for terminating the crisis in which that province found itself,
.he purposed to spread terror among the republicans by the rigor of
punishment, and deprive them of the means to do harm, by depriv-
ing them of the means to subsist. Accordingly, he addressed orders
to all the British commanders, that without any delay they should
cause to be hung all those individuals, who, after having served in
the militia levied by the king, had gone over to the rebels ; that they
should punish with imprisonment and confiscation those, who, having
submitted at first, had taken part in the last rebellion, to the end that
their effects might be applied to indemnify those subjects whom they
should have oppressed or despoiled. It cannot be denied, that if it
was possible to excuse such severity towards those who had exchanged
the condition of prisoners of war for that of British subjects, it was
worthy of an eternal blame in respect to those who had wished to
remain in the first of these conditions. In effect, had they not been
released from their parole by the authentic proclamation of Cornwal-
lis himself, under date of the third of June ? But victors, too often,
by vain subtilties, or even without deigning to have recourse to them,
especially in political convulsions, makes port of violating their faith,
as if it were a necessity for them to add to the evils inseparable fiom
war, all the vexations of perfidy ! However this might be, and how-
ever rigorous were the orders of Cornwallis, they were every where
punctually executed. Carolina was become a theater of proscrip-
tions. Several British officers openly testified their abhorrence of
this reign of blood ; but the greater part, and Tarlcton more than any
other, commended it without shame, as useful and necessary to the
success of the royal cause. Already Tarleton had complained bit-
terly of the clemency, as he called it, exercised by Cornwallis prior
to the battle of Camden ; this clemency, he said, was not only good
for nothing, but also prejudicial in every thing, since it rendered
friends less hearty, and enemies more audacious. This reproach
would certainly have been founded, if it were true that in war utility
nlone deserves regard, and that nothing is due to humanity, good
faith and justice. Nobody denies, for example, that to poison springs,
massacre all the prisoners tnat can be taken, bring off into slavery all
the inhabitants of a country, without distinction of age or sex, and
without regard for the law of nations, might sometimes have a use-
296 THE AMERICAN WAR. BOOK XIII
ful tendency. We see, nevertheless, that in all time, civilized na
lions, and conquerors not entirely barbarous, have abstained from
these horrible extremities. But in the present occurrence, the Eng-
lish showed themselves without pity for the most respectable men of
the country. The inhabitants of Camden, of Ninety-Six, of Augusta
and other places, saw inhumanly gibbeted men whose only crime
was that of having been too faithful to a cause which they consid-
ered as that of their country and of justice.
All minds were penetrated with horror ; all hearts were inflamed
with an implacable and never-dying hatred against such ferocious
victors. A cry of vengeance resounded amidst this exasperated
people ; all detested a king who had devoted them to the oppression of
these brutal executors of his will. His standard became an object of
execration. The British generals learned by cruel experience, that
executions and despair are frail securities for the submission of a
people planted in distant regions, actuated by a common opinion, and
embarked with passion in a generous enterprise. Nor were these
the only rigors which Cornwallis thought it expedient to exercise, in
order to confirm the possession of the provinces conquered by his
arms. To complete the reduction of the patriots, he employed ar-
rests and sequestrations. He feared that the presence in Charles-
ton of the leading men, who, persevering in their character of prison-
ers of war, had refused to accept that of subjects, might tend to keep
alive a spirit of resistance. He likewise learned, as the British writers
affiim, that these prisoners had maintained a secret correspondence
with the enemies of the English name, the proofs of which had been
found in the baggage of the American generals captured at the battle
of Camden. These motives appeared to him sufficient to justify
the seizure and imprisonment at St. Augustine, in East Florida, of
more than thirty of the most influential chiefs of the American party.
They were all of the number of those who had taken the most active
part in the organization of the republican government, and who had
shown themselves the most ardent partisans of the present war. Then,
desirous to prevent those who were, or whom he believed, opposed
to Great Britain, from assisting the congress with their pecuniary
means, or with a hope to constrain them to submission, he issued a
proclamation, purporting the sequestration of the possessions of who-
ever should hold correspondence with the congress, act in its name,
join the enemies of England, or excite the people to revolt by word
or deed. He constituted, at the same time, a commissioner over
sequestrated estates, with obligation to account to the families of the
forfeited for a part of their net revenue ; a fourth to those consisting
BOOK XJI1 THE AMERICAN WAR. 297
of a wife and children, and a sixth to wives without children. A
clause required, however, that these families should reside in the
province. These different measures, combined with a rigorous
watchfulness over the movements of the suspected, appeared to the
English a sure guaranty for the return of tranquillity and obedience
in the province of South Carolina. And as to North Carolina, it
could no longer hope to resist them when the weather became tem-
perate, and the harvests were over. We shall see, in the course
of this history, how far these hopes were confirmed by the event.
While the season had caused the suspension of hostilities in the
two Carolinas, and while, in the state of New York, the superiority
of the Americans by land, and that of the English by sea, had occa-
sioned a similar cessation of arms, an unexpected event arrested the
general attention. During some time, a design had been maturing
in the shades of mystery, whose execution, had it succeeded to the
wish of its authors, would have involved the totai ruin of the army
of Washington, and, perhaps, the entire subjugation of America. A
single instant more, and the work of so many years, cemented at
such a cost of gold and blood, might have been demolished to its
foundations by a cause altogether unthought of. The English had
well nigh arrived, by means of treason, at that object which with five
years of intrigues and of combats they had not been able to attain ;
and it was even at the hands of the man they least suspected, that
the Americans were to have received the most fatal blow. They
had but too manifest a proof, that no confidence can be placed in
courage when disunited from virtue. They learned that men who
displayed the most enthusiasm for a cause, are often also those who
become the soonest unfaithful ; and that an insatiable thirst of pelf,
coupled with mad prodigalities, easily conduct the ambitious spend-
thrift to barter basely for gold even the safety of his country. Pri-
vate virtues are incontestably the original and only basis of public
integrity ; and it should never be forgotten, that the man without
morals, who arrives at the first offices of the republic, has no other
object but to satiate his ambition or his cupidity at the expense of
his fellow-citizens. If he encounter obstacles, he is ripe for deeds
of violence within, and treason without. The name of general Ar-
nold was deservedly dear to all the Americans ; they considered him
as one of their most intrepid defenders. Numerous wounds, and
especially that which had almost deprived him of the use of one
leg had forced him to take repose at his seat in the country.
The congress, with the concurrence of Washington, in recom-
pense for his services appointed him commandant of Philadelphia,
298 THE AMERICAN WAR. BOOK XIII
immediately after that city was evacuated by the English, and return-
ed under American domination. Here Arnold lived at an enormous
expense, and showed himself extremely grasping :n order to support
it. He had established himself in the house of Penn, and had fur-
nished it in the most sumptuous manner. His play, his table, his
balls, his concerts, his banquets, would have exhausted the most im-
men?e fortune. His own, and the emoluments of his employment,
being far from sufficient to defray such extravagance, he had betaken
himself to commerce and privateering. His speculations proved
unfortunate ; his debts accumulated, his creditors tormented him.
His boundless arrogance revolted at so many embarrassments ; yet
he would diminish nothing of this princely state. Under these cir-
cumstances, he conceived the shameful idea of re-imbursing himself
from the public treasure for all he had squandered injiotous living.
Accordingly, he i resented accounts more worthy of a shameless
usurer than of a general. The government, astonished and indig-
nant, appointed commissioners to investigate them. They refused
not merely to approve them ; they reduced the claims of Arnold to
half. Enraged at their decision, he loaded them with reproaches and
insults, and appealed from it to the congress. Several of its members
were charged to examine these accounts anew, and to make report.
They declared that the commissioners had allowed Arnold more than
he had any right to demand. His wrath no longer observed measure ;
the congress itself became the object of the most indecent invectives
that ever fell from a man in high station. This conduct, far from
restoring tranquillity, produced a quite contrary effect. That spirit
of order for which the Americans are distinguished, did not permit
them to quit thus an affair already in progress. Arnold was accused
of peculation by the state of Pennsylvania, and brought before a court
martial to take his trial. Among the charges laid against him, he
was accused of having converted to his own use the British merchan-
dise he had found and confiscated at Philadelphia, in 1778 ; as nlso
of having employed the public carriages for the service of different
private individuals, and especially for his own and that of his associ-
ates in the commerce of New Jersey. The court sentenced him to
be reprimanded by Washington. This sentence neither satisfied the
accused nor the accusers. The latter exclaimed that more regard
had been shown to the past services of Arnold than for justice ; the
former broke into bitter complaints of the iniquity of his judges and
ingratitude of his country. His pride could not brook so public a
disgrace ; he had seen himself the idol of his fellow-citizens, and he
was now become the object of their contempt, if not hatred Iu
BOOK XIII. THE AMERICAN WAR. 299
the blindness of his vengeance, and in the hope that he might still
glut his passions with British gold, since he no longer could with Amer-
ican, he resolved to add perfidy to avidity, and treason to pillage.
Determined that his country should resume the yoke of England, he
developed his projects in a letter which he addressed to colonel Rob-
inson. General Clinton was immediately made acquainted with
its contents. He committed this secret negotiation to major Andre,
his aid-de-camp, a young man as distinguished for the suavity of his
manners and the gentleness of his temper, as for the singular comeli-
ness of his person. Arnold and Andre corresponded together, un-
der the assumed names of Gustavus and Anderson. The American
general was promised a corresponding rank in the British army, and
considerable sums of gold. He, on his part, engaged to render the
king some signal service. The consequence of this understanding
was a demand that West Point should be given up to the royal troops.
That fortress, situated upon the western bank of the Hudson, is of
extreme importance, in that it defends the passage of the mountains
in the upper pait of the river. Accordingly, the Americans had been
at such pains and expense to render it impregnable, that it was culled
with reason the Gibraltar of America. Into this all-important citadel,
Arnold formally pledged himself to introduce the English. Hence,
pretending to have taken an aversion to the residence of Philadel-
phia, and that he wished to resume an active service in the army, he
requested and obtained the command of West Point, and of all the
American troops cantoned in that quarter. But his plan embraced
more than the mere delivery of the fortress ; he purposed so to scat-
<. ter his forces in the environs, that Clinton might easily fall upon them
by surprise, and cut them oif at the same stroke. Masters of West
Point, and having no more enemies before them, the English would
then have marched rapidly against Washington, who had distributed
his troops upon the two banksof the Hudson ; their destruction must
have been total and inevitable. Thus, therefore, besides West Point,
and those passes which had been so often disputed, and for which liio
British government had undertaken the fatal expedition of Burgoyno,
the Americans would have lost their whole army, their artillery, theit
munitions of war, and their best officers. May it not even be con-
jectured, that if the English should have profited of the confusion
and consternation which could not fail to have resulted from so
sudden a catastrophe, the United States would have found them-
selves necessitated to receive the law of the conqueror?
About the middle of September, Washington had been called to
Hartford, in Connecticut, upon some affairs which required hi* pres-
300 THE AMERICAN WAR. BOOK XIII.
cnce. The conspirators considered the occasion propitious for the
accomplishment of their designs. It was agreed that, in order to
concert more particularly the last measures, major Andre should
repair secretly to the presence of Arnold. Accordingly, in the night
of the twenty-first of September, he landed from the Vulture sloop
of war, which already long since Clinton had stationed up the river
not far from West Point, to facilitate the correspondence between
the two parties. Arnold and Andre passed the whole night in con-
ference. The day having dawned before all their dispositions were
concluded, the British aid-de-camp was concealed in a secure place.
The following night, he wished to regain the Vulture ; but the boat-
men would not convey him thither, because the excess of his pre-
cautions had inspired them with some distrust. He was obliged to
take the way of the land. Arnold gave him a horse and a passport
under the name of Anderson. Until then he had worn the British
uniform under a riding coat; he threw it off, and took a common
dress, though, it is said, much against his will, and at the earnest
importunity of Arnold. He had already safely passed the American
guards and outposts, and might reasonably hope to arrive without
obstacle at New York ; but fate had reserved a different issue for
the infamous perfidy of Arnold, and the generov^ devotion of major
Andre towards his country.
As he was going through Tarrytown, a village situated in the
vicinity of the first British posts, three soldiers of the militia, who
happened to be there, threw themselves across his passage. He
showed them his passport; they suffered him to continue his route.
All of a sudden, one of these three men, more distrustful than his
comrades, thought he had observed something particular in the person
of the traveller ; he called him back. Andre asked them where
they were from. ' From down below,' they replied, intending to
say from New York. The young man, too frank to suspect a snare,
immediately answered, c And so am I.' They arrest him. He then
declared himself, for what he was, a British officer. He offered all
the gold he had with him, a valuable watch, rewards and rank in the
British army as the price of his release ; all his efforts were vain.
John Paulding, David Williams, and Isaac Van Wert, — such were the
names of the three soldiers, — were found incorruptible ; a disinterest-
edness the more worthy of eulogium, as they were poor and obscure.
Thus, in the very moment when one of the most distinguished chiefs
of the American army, a man celebrated throughout the world for
his brilliant exploits, betrayed, out of a base vengeance, the country
he had served, and sold it fora purse of gold, three common soldieis
BOOK XIII. THE AMERICAN WAR. 301
preferred the honest to the useful, and fidelity to fortune. They
diligently searched their prisoner, and found in his boots several
papers written by the hand of Arnold himself, containing the most
detailed information with respect to the positions of the Americans,
their munitions, the garrison of West Point, and the most suitable
mode of directing an attack against that fortress. Major Andre was
conducted before the officer who commanded the advanced posts.
Afraid of hurting Arnold by an immediate disclosure of his true
character, and braving the danger of being instantly put to death as
a spy, if it should be discovered that he had concealed his real name,
he persisted in affirming that he was Anderson, as indicated by his
passport. The American officer was at a loss what to decide ; he
could not persuade himself that his general, after having so often
shed his blood for the country, was now resolved to betray it. These
hesitations, the negations of Andre, the distance at which Washing-
ton, and even Arnold, found themselves, gave the latter time to
escape. As soon as he heard that Andre was arrested, he threw
himself into a boat and hastened on board the Vulture. The news
of this event excited universal amazement. The people could
scarcely credit the treachery of a man in whom they had so long
placed the utmost Confidence. The peril they had run filled them
with consternation ; the happy chance which had rescued them from
it, appeared a prodigy. ' God,' they said, 'has not permitted that
men of honor should be victims of perfidy ; it is his almighty hand
that has saved us ; he approves and protects the cause of America.*
Maledictions were heaped upon Arnold, praises upon those who
had arrested Andre.
Meanwhile, Washington returned from Connecticut to his camp.
Suspecting, first of all, that the plot might have more extensive rami-
fications, and not knowing on what individuals to fix his eye, he
busied himself in taking the most prompt ancj efficacious measures
to baffle their pernicious designs. He feared aiso lest the contagion
of example might incite even those who were strangers to the con-
spiracy to entertain rash desires for a new order of things. He
knew that the way once cleared by some audacious individuals, the
multitude are but too apt to hurry blindly after them. These ap-
prehensions offered themselves the more naturally to his mind, as the
pay of his troops was considerably in arrear, and as they were in
want of many of the necessaries not only of war, but even of life.
The precautions of the commander-in-chief were fortunately super-
fluous. Nobody stirred ; nothing led to the presumption of Arnold's
having had accomplices.
302 THE AMERICAN WAR. BOOK X1I1.
When major Andre, from the time elapsed, could infer that Ar-
nold must be in safety, he revealed nis name and rank. He np-
peared less solicitous about his safety, than to prove that he was
neither an impostor nor a spy. He endeavored to refute the ap-
pearances which seemed to depose against him. He affirmed that
his intention had been merely to come and confer, upon neutral
ground, with a person designated by his general ; but that thence he
had been trepanned and drawn within the American lines. From
that moment, he added, none of his steps could be imputed to his
default, since he then found himself in the power of others. Wash-
ington, meanwhile, created a court martial ; among its members,
besides many of the most distinguished American officers, were the
marquis de la Fayette and the baron de Steuben. Major Andre ap-
peared before his judges ; they were specially charged to investi-
gate and define the nature of the offense, and the punishment it
involved, according to the laws of war. The demeanor of the young
Englishman was equally remote from arrogance and from mean-
ness. His blooming years, the ingenuous cast of his features, the
mild elegance of his manners, had conciliated him an interest in
every heart.
In the meantime, Arnold* being safely arrived on board the Vul-
ture, immediately wrote a letter to Washington. He impudently
declared in it that it was the same patriotism of which he had never
ceased to give proofs since the origin of the contest, which had now
prescribed him his present step, whatever men might think of it, al-
ways so ill judges of the actions of others. He added, that he
asked nothing for himself, having already but too much experience
of the ingratitude of his country, but that he prayed- and conjured
the commander-in-chief to have the goodness to preserve his wife
from the insults of an irritated people, by sending her to Philadelphia
among her friends, or by permitting her to come and rejoin him at
New York. This letter was followed by a dispatch from colonel
Robinson, likewise dated on board the Vulture. *He earnestly
demanded that major Andre should be released, urging, in his
defense, that he had gone ashore on public business and under the
protection of a flag, as well by the invitation of Arnold as by the
command of his own general ; that he was the bearer of a regular
passport for his return to New York ; that all his doings during the
time he had passed with the Americans, and especially the change
of his dress and name, had been dictated by the will of Arnold.
The colonel concluded with alledging that the major could no longer
be detained without a violation of the sanctity of flags and a con-
BOOK XIII. THE AMERICAN WAR. 3()3
tempt lor all the laws of war as they are acknowledged and practiced
by till nations. General Clinton wrote in much the same style in
favor of Andre. In the letter of that general was enclosed a second
from Arnold ; its language could not pretend to the merit of reserve.
He insisted that in his character of American general, he was invest-
ed with the right to grant Andre the usual privilege of flags, that he
might approach in safety to confer with him ; and that in sending
him back, he was competent to choose any way he thought the most
proper. But major Andre betrayed less anxiety respecting his fate
than was manifested in his behalf by his countrymen and friends.
Naturally averse from all falsehood, from all subterfuge, desirous, if
he must part with life, to preserve it at least pure and spotless to his
last hour, he confessed ingenuously that he had by no means come
under the protection of a flag ; adding, that if he had come so
accompanied, he should certainly have returned under the same
escort. His language manifested an extreme attention to avoid
imputing fault to any ; abjuring, on the contrary, all dissimulation
in regard to what concerned him personally, he often avowed more
than was questioned him ; so much generosity and constancy were
universally admired. The fate of this unfortunate young man wrung
tears of compassion even from his judges. All would have wished
to save him, but the fact was too notorious. The court martial, on
the ground of his own confession, pronounced that he was, and ought
to be considered as a spy, and as such to be punished with death.
Washington notified this sentence to Clinton, in the answer to his
•etter. He recapitulated all the circumstances of the offense, in-
viting him to observe, that although they were of a nature to justify
towards major Andre the summary proceedings usual in the case of
spies, still he had preferred to act in respect of him with more
deliberation and scruple ; that it was therefore not without a perfect
knowledge of the cause that the court martial had passed the judg-
ment of which he apprised him. But Clinton, half delirious with
anguish at the destiny of Andre, whom he loved with the utmost
tenderness, did not restrict himself to the efforts he had already
made to preserve him. He again wrote to Washington, praying him
to consent to a conference between several delegates of the two
parties, in order to throw all the light possible upon so dubious an af-
fair. Washington complied with the proposal^ he sent general
Greene to Dobb's Ferry, where he was met by general Robertson on
the part of the English. The latter exerted himself with extreme
earnestness to prove that Andre could not be considered as a spy.
He repeated the arguments already advanced of the privilege of flags,
304 THE AMERICAN WAR. . BOOR XI 1 1.
and of tha necessity that controlled the actions of Andre while he
was in the power of Arnold. But perceiving that his reasoning pro-
duced no effect, he endeavored to persuade by the voice of humani
ty ; he alledged the essential importance of mitigating by generous
counsels the rigors of war ; he extolled the clemency of general Clin-
ton, who had never put to death any of those persons who had violat-
ed the laws of war; he reminded, that major Andre was particularly
dear to the general-in-chief, and that if he might be permitted to re-
conduct him to New York, any American, of whatever crime ac-
cused, and now in the power of the English, should be immediately
set at liberty. He made still another proposition ; and that was, to
suspend the execution of the judgment, and to refer the affair to the
decision of two officers familiar alike with the laws of war and of
nations, such as the generals Knyphausen and Rochambeau. Finally,
general Robertson presented a letter from Arnold, directed to Wash-
ington, by which he endeavored to exculpate the British prisoner,
and to take all the blame of his conduct upon himself. He did not re-
tire till after having threatened the most terrible retaliations, if the
sentence of the court martial was executed ; he declared in particu-
lar, that the rebels of Carolina, whose life general Clinton had hith-
erto generously spared, should be immediately punished with death.
The interposition of Arnold could not but tend to the prejudice of
Andre ; and even if the Americans had been inclined to clemency,
his letter would have sufficed to divert them from it. The conference
had no effect.
Meanwhile, the young Englishman prepared himself for death.
He manifested, at its approach, not that contempt which is often no
other than dissimulation, or brutishness ; nor yet that weakness
which is peculiar to effeminate, or guilty men ; but that firmness
which is the noble characteristic of the virtuous and brave. He re-
gretted life, but he sighed still deeper at the manner of losing it. He
could have wished to die as a soldier, that is, to be shot ; but he was
doomed to the punishment of spies and malefactors, to the infamous
death of the halter. This idea struck him with horror ; he painted
it with force to the court martial. It made him no answer, not will-
ing to grant his request, and esteeming it a cruelty to - refuse it ex-
pressly. Two other causes of despair increased the anguish of the
unhappy youth. One was the fear that his death would reduce to
indigence and wretchedness a mother and three sisters, whom he
tenderly loved, and whom he supported with his pay ; the second,
lest the public voice should accuse Clinton of having precipitated
him, by his orders, into his present dreadful situation. He could not
BOOK XIII. THE AMERICAN WAR. 305
think, without the most bitter regrets, that his death might be laid to
the charge of that man, whom he loved and respected the most.
He obtained permission to write to him ; he used it but to recom-
mend to his protection his unhappy mother and sisters, and to bear
testimony that it was not only against his intentions, but even against
his positive orders, that he had introduced himself into the camp of
the Americans, and had assumed a disguise. The second day of
October was destined to be the last of his existence. Brought to the
foot of the gibbet, he said ; And must I die thus ? He was answer-
ed, that it could not be otherwise. He did not dissemble his pro-
found grief. At length, after having passed a few moments in prayer,
he pronounced these words, which were his last ; ' Bear witness that
I die as a brave man should die.' Such was the just but melan-
choly end of a young man deserving in so many respects of a better
destiny. It cast a damp of sadness over enemies as well as friends.
Arnold gnashed with rage, if, however, that polluted soul was still
capable of remorse. The English themselves eyed him with abhor-
rence, both as traitor, and as original cause of the death of the
hapless Andre. In policy, nevertheless, any instrument being thought
good, provided it serves the end proposed, Arnold was created briga-
dier-general in the British armies. Clinton hoped that the name
and influence of this renegade would induce a great number of the
Americans to join the royal standard. Arnold at least was well
aware, that since he had abandoned them, he could not show too
much fervor for the cause of England. And such being the irresisti-
ble ascendant of virtue, that even the most depraved are forced to
assume its semblance, he thought fit to publish a memorial, by which
he hoped to mask his infamy. He alledged that in the commence- <
ment of the troubles, he had taken arms because he believed the
rights of his country were infringed ; that he had given into the
declaration of independence, although he had thought it ill timed ;
but that when Great Britain, like a relenting and tender mother, had
extended her arms to embrace them, offering them the most just
and the most honorable conditions, the refusal of the insurgents, and
especially their alliance with France, had entirely changed the nature
of the quarrel, and transformed a glorious cause into a criminal
revolt ; that ever since that epoch he had been desirous to resume
the relations of ancient allegiance towards England. He declaimed
with violence against the congress ; he painted in the most odious
colors its tyranny and avarice ; he railed against the union with
France, affecting a profound grief that the dearest interests of the
country had thus been sacrificed to an arrogant, inveterate and per-
VOL. ii. 20
306 THE AMERICAN WAR. BOOK XIII.
tidious enemy. He represented France as too feeble to establish
independence, as the bitterest foe of the protestant faith, as deceitfully
pretending a zeal for the liberty of the human race, while she held
jier own children in vassalage and servitude. Arnold finished with
.declaring, that he had so long delayed the disclosure of his senti-
iraents, from a wish, by some important service, to effect the deliver-
ance of his country, and at the same time to avoid as much as possible
the effusion of blood. He addressed this memorial to his country-
men in general. A few days after, he published another, directed
to the officers and soldiers of the American army. He exhorted
them to come and place themselves under the banners of the king,
where they would find promotion and increase of pay. He vaunted
of wishing to conduct the flower of the American nation to peace,
liberty and safety ; to rescue the country from the hands of France,
and of those who had brought it to the brink of perdition. He
affirmed that America was become a prey to avarice, an object of
scorn for her enemies, and of pity for her friends ; that she had ex-
changed her liberty for oppression. He represented the citizens
thrust into dungeons, despoiled of their property ; the youth dragged
to war, blood streaming in torrents. ' What,' he exclaimed, ' is
America now, but a land of widows, orphans and beggars ? If Eng-
land were to cease her efforts for her deliverance, how could she
,hope to enjoy the exercise of that religion for which our fathers once
braved ocean, climate and deserts ? Has not the abject and profli-
gate congress been seen of late to attend mass, and to participate in
the ceremonies of an anti-christian church, against the corruptions of
which our pious ancestors would have borne testimony at the price
of their blood ? ' These declamations of a traitor proved the more
fruitless the more they were insolent and exaggerated. America,
moreover, had writers who stepped forward to lefute them, in a style
ag animated as the reasoning was triumphant. They observed,
;among other things, that none more than Arnold, even subsequent
to the rejection of accommodation with England, had been the de-
voted and obsequious courtier of France, none more than him had
danced attendance upon her generals and agents ; that on the first
arrival of the minister Gerard at Philadelphia, he had pressed him
to inhabit his house ; that he had lavished, in his honor, the most sump-
tuous banquets, the most splendid balls, the most gorgeous galas ;
that he had been the supple flatterer of Silas Deane, the most ser-
vile tool of France ; in a word, that on all occasions he had given the
French grounds to believe that they had not in all the United States
a more sincere friend than himself. ' But such.' it was said, ' IP the
BOOK XIII. . THE AMERICAN WAR. 307
ordinary conduct of the ambitious ; alternately cringing and super-
cilious, they are not ashamed to tax others with their own vices/
Thus Arnold found retorted against himself those arguments from
which he had anticipated the most success.
As to the congress, they deemed it beneath their dignity to appear
to take the least notice of the perfidy or the pamphlets of Arnold.
Only to testify their high sense of the noble conduct of the three
soldiers who had arrested major Andre, they passed a resolution
creating in favor of each of them a life annuity of two hundred dol-
lars, free of all deductions. They also decreed that they should be
presented with a silver medal, struck express, bearing upon one face
the word Fidelity, and upon the other the following motto ; Vindt
amor patrice. The executive council of Pennsylvania issued a proc-
lamation, summoning Benedict Arnold, in company with some other
vile men, to appear before the tribunals to make answer for their
defection, and declaring them, otherwise, subject to all the pains and
penalties usually inflicted on criminals convicted of high treason.
This was the only act in which any public authority deigned to make
mention of Arnold.
The details of the conspiracy of New York have necessarily
diverted our attention for some time from the theater of war. We
proceed now to recount the various success of the British arms in
the Carolinas. The month of September approached its close, when
the British generals, who had re-inforced their troops and recruited
their necessary stores and provision, resolved to re-enter the field and
complete those operations which they had commenced, and which
were to be the most important fruit of the victory of Camden. They
flattered themselves that the rumor alone of their march upon
North Carolina would suffice to determine the American army to
evacuate it immediately. They already beheld in no distant per^
spective not only the conquest of that province, but also that of Vir-
ginia. They calculated that when to the possession of the two
Carolinas, of Georgia and New York, they should have added this,,
Virginia, so fertile and so powerful, the Americans, crushed by the
burthen of the war, must of necessity submit to the laws of Great
Britain. The decline and humiliation of their enemies appeared to
them inevitable. Lord Cornwallis and general Clinton were to co-
operate simultaneously to bring about this grand result ; the first, by
advancing from South into North Carolina ; the second, by sending
a part of his army from New York into the lower parts of Virginia,
wheie, after having passed the Roanoke, it was to operate its junc-
tion with the army of Cornwallis upon the confines of North Caro-
308 THE AMEKICAN WAK. BOOK XIII.
lina. In pursuance of this plan, Clinton had detached upon the
Chesapeake bay a corps of three thousand men, under the command
of general Leslie. He landed his troops as well at Portsmouth as
upon the adjacent points of that coast, ravaging and burning all the
magjizines, and especially those of tobacco, of which an immense
quantity was destroyed. Many merchant vessels fell into the hands
of the English. In this quarter, they were to wait for news of the
approach of Cornwallis, then to push rapidly forward to the banks
of the Roanoke, where the junction was to be effected. But the
distance being great, and as unforeseen accidents might impede the
contemplated union of the two corps, Clinton had directed Leslie to
obey the orders of Cornwallis. His intention was, that if the junc-
tion by land was found subject to insurmountable obstacles^ Corn-
wallis might cause a part of that corps to come round to him in the
Carolinas, by way of the sea. That general, on his part, had put
himself on the march from Camden upon Charlottetown, a village
situated in North Carolina. Nevertheless, to hold South Carolina in
check, and to preserve the way open to retreat thither, if it was
necessary, he had not contented himself with leaving a strong garri-
son in Charleston. Several detachments were distributed upon dif-
ferent points of the frontier ; colonel Brown was posted at Augusta,
colonel Cruge'r at Ninety-Six, and colonel Trumbull with a stronger
corps at Camden. Lord Cornwallis had then advanced, with the
main body of the army and some cavalry, by the way of Hanging
Rock, toward Catawba, while Tarleton with the rest of the cavalry
passed the Wateree and ascended along its eastern bank. The two
corps were to rendezvous, and re-unite at Charlottetown. They
arrived there in effect about the last of September. But the Eng-
lish were not slow in perceiving that they had undertaken a far more
arduous enterprise than they had contemplated. The country in the
environs of Charlottetown was steril, and broken by narrow and intri-
cate defiles. The inhabitants were not only hostile, but also most vigi-
lant and audacious in attacking detached parlies, in cutting off couri-
ers and convoys while on the way from Camden to Charlottetown.
Hence the royalists could not sally into the open country, whether to
forage, or gain intelligence, except in strong detachments. Moreover,
colonel Sumpter, always enterprising, and prompt to seize any occa-
sion for infesting the British, seemed to be every where at once,
upon the frontiers of the two Carolinas. Another partisan corps, of
similar audacity, had just been formed under the conduct of colonel
Marion. Finally, the alarming intelligence was announced, that
colonel Clarke had assembled a numerous body of mountaineers
BOOK XIII THE AMERICAN WAR. 309
from the upper parts of the Carolinas, a most hardy and warlike
race of men. Though the valiant defense of colonel Brown had
defeated a coup de main which they had attempted against Augusta,
yet they still kept the field. Their chief had led them into the
mountainous part, in order to unite withpolonel Sumpter,or, at least,
if the corps of Ferguson prevented that, to await new reinforce-
ments of the inhabitants of those regions, whose ardor he well knew
The royalists thus found themselves surrounded by clouds of re-
publicans. Placed in the midst of a country where every thing
combined against them, they more resembled a besieged army than
troops marching upon an expedition. An unexpected accident came
to aggravate yet more the distress of their position. Colonel Fergu-
son, as we have already seen, had been detached by lord Cornwallis
upon the' frontiers of North Carolina, to encourage the loyalists to
take arms. A considerable number had repaired to his standardf
but the greater part were of the most profligate and of the most
ferocious description of men. Believing any thing admissible with
the sanction of their chief, they put every thing on their passage to
fire and sword. Excesses so atrocious must have inflamed the
coldest hearts with the desire of vengeance ; they transported the
mountaineers with fury. They descended into the plain by torrents,
arming themselves with whatever chance threw within their reach.
They foamed at the name of Ferguson ; they conjured the chiefs
they had given themselves, to lead them upon the track of this mon-
ster, that they might make him expiate the ravages and blood with
which he had stained himself. Each of them carried, besides his
arms, a wallet and a blanket. They slept on the naked earth, in the
open air ; the water of the rivulet slaked their thirst ; they fed on
the cattle they drew after them, or on the game they killed in the
forests. They were conducted by the colonels Campbell, Cleveland,
Selby, Seveer, Williams, Brandy and Lacy. Every where they
demanded Ferguson with loud cries. At every step they swore io
exterminate him. At length they found him. But Ferguson was
not a man that any danger whatever could intimidate. He was
posted on a woody eminence which commands all the adjacent plain,
and has a circular base. It is called Kings Mountain. An advanced
guard defended its approach by the direct road. The mountaineers
soon forced them to fall back ; then, forming in several columns,
they endeavored to make their way good to the summit. The attack
and the defense were equally obstinate ; some from behind trees
others under the cover of rocks, maintained an extremely brisk fire
At length those commanded by Cleveland arrived upon the brow of
310 THE AMERICAN WAR. BOOK XIII.
the hill. The English repulsed them with the bayonet. But the
column of Selby came up at the same instant, and it was necessary
to dispute the ground with it immediately. It began to give way,
when colonel Campbell took part in the combat. Ferguson received
him with gallantry ; but what could avail his efforts against assaults
incessantly renewed, and always with more fury ! He was surround-
ed ; and he did all that a man of skill and courage could do to ex-
tricate himself.. But already the crown of the mount was inundated
with Americans. They summoned Ferguson in vain to surrender ;
he perished sword in hand. His successor immediately demanded
and obtained quarter. The carnage had been dreadful ; the royal-
ists had to regret above eleven hundred men in killed, wounded and
prisoners, a loss extremely serious in the present circumstances. All
the arms and munitions fell into the power of the conquerors. They
observed the laws of war towards the English ; but they displayed
an excessive rigor against the loyalists. They hung several without
listening to their remonstrances. They alledged, that this execution
was only a just reprisal for that of the republicans put to death by
the loyalists at Camdcn, at Ninety-Six, and at Augusta. They even
insisted that the persons whose lives they had taken, had forfeited
them by their crimes according to the laws of the country. Thus
was added to the inevitable rigors of war all the ferocity of civil
dissensions.
The mountaineers, after this victory, returned to their homes. The
check of Kings Mountain was a heavy blow to the British interests
in the Carolinas. The position of Cornwallis became critical. The
loyalists no longer manifested the same zeal to join him ; and he
found himself with a feeble army in the midst of a hostile and steril
country. He clearly foresaw that a movement forward would but
increase the embarrassments under which he already labored. Com-
pelled, therefore, to relinquish for the present the invasion of North
Carolina, where the public mind was decidedly in favor of the re-
publicans, he resolved, at least, to maintain himself in South Carolina
until he should have received re-inforcements. He accordingly
abandoned Charlottetown, repassed the Catawba, and took post at
Winnsborough. From that point, he was at hand to correspond with
Camden and Ninety-Six; and the fertility of the adjacent country
secured him better quarters. At the same time, he sent orders to
general Leslie, who was still in Virginia, to embark his troops forth-
with, and after having touched at Wilmington, to repair with all
expedition to Charleston.
The retreat of the English from Charlottetown to Winnsborough.
BOOK XIII. THE AMERICAN WAR. 311
and their defeat at Kings Mountain, animated the republicans with
uncommon alacrity. They hastened in multitude to place themselves
under the standards of their most daring chiefs, among whom the
more prominent were the colonels Sumpter and Marion. The latter
scoured the lower, the former the upper parts of the province.
Sometimes Camden, sometimes Ninety-Six were menaced. The
royal troops could scarcely quit their camp for provision, wood or
forage, without running the greatest hazard of being surprised ' To
put an end to these continual alarms, Tarleton made a movement
which menaced colonel Marion ; but the American, who intended
only to harass his enemy, and not to engage him in the open field,
retired precipitately. The Englishman pursued him ; but he receiv-
ed, at the same instant, orders from lord Cornwallis, enjoining him
to turn upon colonel Sumpter. That partisan was on the march
towards Ninety- Six ; he had already surprised major Wemis upon
Broad river, and captured many prisoners, both horse and foot.
Tarleton, exerting a scarcely credible diligence, appeared unexpect-
edly in the presence of Sumpter, who was encamped upon the right
bank of the river Tiger, at a place called Blackstocks. The position
of the Americans was formidably strong ; it was covered in front by
the river, log houses and palisades ; and upon the two flanke by
inaccessible mountains, or narrow and difficult defiles. Tarleton,
hurried on by his ardor, and fearing lest Sumpter should pass the
Tiger and escape him, left his light infantry, and even a part of his
legion, behind, and pushed forward upon the enemy with a body of
grenadiers and the rest of his cavalry. The action was engaged
with reciprocal desperation. A British regiment was so roughly
treated that it was compelled to fall back in the greatest disorder.
Tarleton, to restore the battle, headed an impetuous charge upon the
center of the Americans ; they received it without giving way. The
Englishman then found himself constrained to retreat, leaving upon
the field of battle a great number of dead and wounded, among
whom were found several officers of note. But night being come,
colonel Sumpter, who was dangerously wounded in the shoulder, did
not judge it prudent to await the British troops that Tarleton had
left behind him, and he accordingly repassed the river. His wound
rot permitting him to retain the command, he was carried by faithful
soldiers into the secure regions of the mountains. The greater part
of his corps then disbanded. Tarleton, afte- having scoured, for a
few days, the country on the left bank of the Tiger, returned by easy
marches to resume his position upon Broad river, in South Carolina.
312 THE AMERICAN WAR. BOOK XIII.
This petty war, these frequent rencounters, more and more invigo-
rated the warlike spirit of the troops of the two parties.
Meanwhile, general Gates had succeeded in assembling some few
troops, the greater part cavalry, and in order to support the partisans
of congress, as well as to afford them a rallying point, he recrossed
the river Yadkin, and took post at Charlottetown, with intent to
winter there. He thought that hostilities could not be continued
during the bad season tfhich was then about to set in. While he
applied himself with zeal to these preparatory dispositions, and for-
tune seemed inclined to smile upon him anew, general Greene arrived
at camp. His military reputation and his tried devotion to the cause
of the republic, had decided the congress and Washington to intrust
him with the command m the southern provinces, in the room of
Gates. The latter evinced, in this conjuncture, that country was
dearer to him than power and glory. He supported so unpleasant
an incident with such constancy, that he did not betray a single mark
of discontent. When he passed through Richmond, in returning to
his own province, the assembly of Virginia sent a deputation to com-
pliment him. It gave him assurance that the remembrance of his
glorious achievements could not be effaced by any misfortune, pray-
ing him to be persuaded that the Virginians in particular would never
neglect any occasion to manifest the gratitude they bore him, as
members of the American Union. General Greene brought with
him no re-inforcement from the northern army ; he expected to find
sufficient forces in the southern quarter. He was accompanied only
by colonel Morgan with some riflemen, who had acquired the highest
reputation. His army was consequently extremely feeble ; but the
woods, the swamps, the rivers, with which the country was every
where broken, were means of defense sufficient to re-assure him.
As his intention was merely to infest the enemy, by avoiding gene-
ra? actions, he hoped to be able to harass, and little by little to re-
duce him. It was about the same time that general Leslie arrived
from Virginia at Charleston, with a re-inforcement of more than two
thousand regular troops. He found fresh orders in that city, in pur-
suance of which, he put himself immediately on the march with fif-
teen hundred men, to rejoin lord Cornwallis at Winnsborough.
1781. This addition offeree renewed with the British general
the desire to reduce North Carolina, and to proceed thence into
Virginia. But the bei ter to secure the success of this enterprise, a
council of war decided that it should not be confided to the army of
Cornwallis alone ; and that it was proper that it should be supported
by another expedition simultaneously directed on the part of Virginia
BOOK X11I. THE AMERICAN WAR. 313
itself; not that the troops which could be employed in that part were
in a situation to achieve the conquest of the province without the
assistance of lord Cornwallis, but they might at least be able to dis-
courage the Virginians from passing re-inforcements to general
Greene. Agreeably to this plan, Arnold had been detached to the
Chesapeake bay, where he was to disembark his troops at whatever
point he might judge the most favorable to a mischievous impres-
sion. The English also flattered themselves, that his name and ex-
ample would influence a great number of the Americans to desert
from the colors of the republic to those of the king. Arnold received
this commission with ecstasy ; he departed to execute it with fifty
transports and sixteen hundred men. The moment he had landed,
he commenced the most shocking ravages. Richmond and Smith-
field experienced all his fury. But the country was alarmed on all
parts ; the inhabitants flew to arms ; he was obliged to fall back upon
Portsmouth, where he labored to intrench himself. He would not
abandon that coast, because he was sensible how much his presence
disquieted the Americans. On the other hand, however, he could
not, with forces so insufficient, keep the field in the midst of a prov-
ince whose numerous population was animated by the most violent
hatred against England.
This piratical expedition, therefore, produced but very imperfectly
the effect which the British generals had hoped from it. It delayed,
it is true, those succors which the Virginians destined for the Caro-
linas ; but not one of them joined Arnold. Devastations, plunder,
conflagrations, had no such fascination as could gain him partisans.
The campaign had already opened in South Carolina. The two
hostile generals maneuvered each according to the plan he had
framed. Lord Cornwallis had set out from Winnsborough, and was
marching between the Broad and Catawba rivers, on the upper route,
towards North Carolina.* He had already arrived at Turkey Creek.
To arrest his progress, general Greene resolved to demonstrate an
intention to attack Ninety-Six, while colonel Morgan, with five hun-
dred Virginian regulars, some companies of militia, and the light
horse of colonel Washington, was detached to guard the passages of
the river Pacolet. As to Greene himself, he went to encamp at the
confluence of Hicks Creek with the Pedee, opposite to Cheraw Hill.
He was blamed, by many military critics, for having thus divided his
forces. In effect, if the English had pushed rapidly forward, they
might have thrown themselves between the corps of Greene and
Morgan, and crushed them both without difficulty. But perhaps the
American general had calculated that the royalists were embarrassed
314 THE AMERICAN WAR. BOOK XIII.
by too many obstacles to act with such celerity ; perhaps, also, he
had not yet heard of the junction of Leslie and Cornwallis. The
latter general immediately detached Tarleton with his legion of cav-
alry and a body of infantry to cover Ninety-Six. On arriving in
that part, Tarleton found every thing quiet ; the enemy had retired
after some light skirmishes. He then determined to march against
Morgan, confident of being able either to rout him by surprise, or at
leasrto drive him beyond the Broad river, which would have left the
ways clear to the royal army. He consulted lord Cornwallis by let-
ter, who not only approved his design, but resolved also to concur to
its execution, by ascending the left bank of the Broad, in order to
menace the rear of Morgan. Every, thing went well for them at first.
Tarleton, after having passed with equal celerity and good fortune the
rivers Ennoree and Tiger, presented himself upon the banks of the
Pacolet. Morgan retreated thence forthwith, and Tarleton set him-
self to pursue him. He pressed him hard. Morgan felt how full of
danger was become the passage of Broad river, in the presence of so
enterprising an enemy as now hung upon his rear. He therefore
thought it better to make a stand. He formed his troops in two
divisions ; the first, composed of militia, under the conduct of colo-
nel Pickens, occupied the front of a wood, in view of the enemy ;
the second, commanded by colonel Howard, was concealed in
the wood itself, and consisted of his marksmen and old continental
troops. Colonel Washington, with his cavalry, was posted behind
the second division, as a reserve. Tarleton soon came up, and
formed in two lines ; his infantry in the centre of each, and his horse
on the flanks. Every thing seemed to promise him victory. He was
superior in cavalry, and his troops, both officers and soldiers, mani-
fested an extreme ardor. The English attacked the first American
line ; after a single discharge, with little harm to the enemy, it fled
iu confusion. They then fell upon the second ; but here tiiey found a
more obstinate resistance. The action \vas engaged and supported with
equal advantage. Tarleton, to decide it in his favor, pushed forward
a battalion of his second line, and at the same time directed a charge
of cavalry upon the right flank of the Americans. He was afraid to
attack their left, supported by colonel Washington, who had already
vigorously repulsed an assault of the British light horse. The maneu-
ver of Tarleton had the expected effect ; the American regulars gave
way, and were thrown into disorder. The English rushed on, per-
suaded that the day was now their own. Already Tarleton, with his
cavalry, was in full pursuit of the routed, when colonel Washington,
whose troop was still entire, fell upon the enemy with such impetu-
BOOK XIII. THE -AMERICAN WAR. 315
osity, that in a few moments he had restored the battle. During this
interval, colonel Howard had rallied his continental troops, and led
them back upon the English. Colonel Pickens had also, by prodi-
gious efforts, re-assembled the militia, and again brought them to the
fire. Morgan was visible every where ; his presence and words re-
animated the spirits of his soldiers. He profited of that moment of
enthusiasm to precipitate them in one general charge upon the enemy.
The shock was so tremendous, that the English at first paused, then
-ecoiled, and soon fled in confusion. The Americans pursued them
with inexpressible eagerness. It was in vain that the British officers
employed exhortations, prayers, and threats, to stay the fugitives ; the
discomfiture was total. Tarleton lost, in dead, wounded, and prison-
ers, more than eight hundred men, two pieces of cannon, the colors
of the seventh regiment, all his carriages and baggage. He regretted
especially the horses killed or taken in this engagement. The nature
of the country, which is flat and open, renders cavalry of the utmost
importance to a campaign in that quarter.
Such was the issue of the battle of Cowpens, the effects of which
were heavily felt by the English during the whole course of the war
of the Carolinas and Virginia ; it was, in a word, decisive of the fate
of those provinces. The destruction of the British cavalry, the total
defeat of Tarleton, who had been, until that epoch, the terror of the
inhabitants, animated them with fresh spirits. Dejection and de-
spondency were exchanged for confidence and enthusiasm. The
congress voted public thanks to colonel Morgan, and presented him
with a medal of gold. Colonels Washington and Howard received
medals of silver, and colonel Pickens a sword.
The news of the sanguinary check of Cowpens was extremely
afflictive to lord Cornwallis. He had lost in it the best part of his
light troops, and they were to have been the principal instrument of
his ulterior operations. But far from allowing himself to be discour-
aged by this blow, he resolved to prosecute his designs with the
corps he had left. He hoped to obtain from it the same service
as from light troops, by destroying his heavy baggage, and all the
carriages that were not of absolute necessity. Two entire days
were employed in the destruction of superfluous incumbrances. A
few wagons only were kept, for the accommodation of the sick and
wounded, and the transportation of salt and ammunition. The soldiei
witnessed the annihilation of his most valuable effects ; the casks con-
taining wine and rum were all staved, and the troops set forward with
no other provision than a small quantity of flour. The royal army
submitted to all these inconveniences with admirable temper and
316 THE AMERICAN WAR. BOOK XIII.
patience, and manifested the utmost eagerness to accomplish the
wishes of its general. He had two objects in view at that time. One
was, to fall immediately upon Morgan, worst him, retake the prisoners
he had made, and prevent his junction with general Greene, who still
continued upon Hicks Creek. The second, and by far the most
important, was to push forward by forced marches upon Salisbury,
and towards the sources of the Yadkin, before Greene should havo
crossed that river. If he effected this design, it followed of necessity,
that the American general would be cut off from the succors he
expected from Virginia, and constrained either to retreat precipitate
ly, with the loss of his artillery and baggage, or to accept a battle
under every disadvantage. Lord Cornwallis set out upon the first of
these projects. He directed his march with celerity upon the Ca-
tawba,in the hope of surprising and crushing Morgan before he could
pass that river. But the Americans were upon their guard. After
his victory of Cowpens, Morgan, who knew very well that Cornwallis
was not far off, had sent his prisoners upon his rear, under the guard of
an experienced officer, and soon after set forward himself with all his
troops towards the Catawba. Such was the diligence of his march,
that on the twenty-ninth of January he had crossed the river, with all
his artillery, stores, baggage and prisoners. The Americans were no
sooner upon the left bank than the British appeared on the right ; the
chagrin of Cornwallis is readily conceived. Morgan, still keeping
his prisoners on the march towards Virginia, neglected no measures
that might tend, if not to arrest, at least to retard the progress of the
royal troops. But they soon had even the elements to contend with.
There had fallen the preceding night such an abundant rain in the
neighboring mountains, that the ford of Catawba became immediately
impassable. If this swell of the waters had taken place a few hours
sooner, Morgan would have found himself in a critical position.
In this state of things, general Greene arrived at the camp of
Morgan, and took the command upon himself. Penetrating the
designs of Cornwallis, he had left orders with the troops stationed at
Hicks Creek, to make the best of their way, without baggage or
incumbrance of any sort, towards the mountainous part, in order to
approach the sources of the rivers, where they become more forda-
ble. Their point of rendezvous was indicated at Guildford Court
House, in North Carolina. While Greene rejoined the corps of
Morgan, upon the left bank of the Catawba, general Huger executed
his orders with as much zeal as intelligence. The rains were such
as to be thought extraordinary even at this season ; the bridges were
broken, the streams excessively swoln, the roads deep and heavy, or
BOOK XIII. THE AMERICAN WAR. 317
stony and knobbed by frost. The soldiers -were destitute of shoes,
of clothing, and often of bread. They seemed to vie with the Eng-
lish in constancy, and supported all their sufferings without a mur-
mur. Not one of them deserted, and in this respect they had more
merit than their adversaries. The Americans, in disbanding, re-
paired to their homes and repose ; whereas the English deserter
must have wandered in a country where every thing opposed him.
During the march of this division upon Guildford, the waters of the
Catawba diminished, and the royal troops prepared themselves to
cross it. But the republicans seemed determined to dispute their
passage. Besides the intrepid phalanx of Morgan, all the militia of
the counties of Rohan and Mecklenburgh, where the British name
was loathed, had assembled upon that point. Notwithstanding these
obstacles, Cornwallis took a resolution to attempl the enterprise.
He was excited to this movement by the hope of giving the
enemy a decisive blow, either by reaching the corps of Huger before
its arrival at Guildford, or by throwing himself between it and Vir-
ginia. He accordingly marched and counter-marched along the
right bank of the Catawba, holding out an intent to pass in different
places, in order to elude the attention of the Americans. But his
real design was to cross at Gowan's Ford. In effect, on the morn-
ing of the first of February, the English entered the water; the
river was broad, deep, and full of large stones. The republicans
were drawn up on the left bank, and commanded by general David-
son. But this corps was composed entirely of militia ; Morgan with
his veterans guarded another passage. The English, however, had
to encounter a very brisk and well-directed fire ; but they supported
it with intrepidity, successfully traversed the bed of the river, and
gained the opposite bank. The Americans were formed to receive
them, and the action commenced. General Davidson was killed at
the first discharge ; his militia betook themselves to flight, and the
detachments posted at other points ran off in the same manner.
The whole royal army arrived without obstacle upon the left bank.
A single corps of militia, amidst the general rout, made a stand at
the post of Tarrant; colonel Tarleton charged them vigorously, and
routed them with severe execution. But colonel Morgan retired
untouched, and with celerity, towards Salisbury. He hoped to
arrive there in season to cross the Yadkin at that place, and thus to
put a large river between him and the royal army. The English
followed him with great ardor, panting to take their revenge for the
defeat of Cowpens. But the American displayed so much activity,
and threw so many impediments in the way of his pursuers, that he
318 THE AMERICAN WAR. BOOK XIII.
passed the Yadkin with all his troops, and without any loss, in the
first days of February ; partly by the ford, and partly in batteaux.
He drew all the boats he could find to the left bank. The English
at length arrived, under the conduct of general O'Hara. They per-
ceived the enemy drawn up on the opposite side, prepared to oppose
their passage. They would, nevertheless, have attempted it but for
the sudden swell of the Yadkin, through the rains that fell that very
day. The pious inhabitants of America considered this sudden
increment of the rivers as a manifest token of the protection which
Heaven granted to the justice of their cause. They observed, that if
the waters of the Catawba, and afterwards those of the Yadkin, had
swelled a few hours sooner, their army, unable to cross, must have
been cut in pieces by the furious enemy that pursued it. If, on the
contrary, these rivers had not increased all of a sudden, a few hours
later, the British would have passed as easily as the Americans, and
would have intercepted their retreat. These two consecutive events,
and the critical moment at which they took place, were esteemed
alike providential. Seeing the impossibility of crossing the Yadkin
at the ford of Salisbury, which is the most commodious, and the
most frequented, Cornwallis resolved to march up the river, hoping
to find it fordable at the place where it branches ; this he effected ;
but the delay occasioned by the circuit, afforded the Americans time
enough to reach Guildford without being disquieted. It was there,
that, on the seventh of February, the two divisions of the American
army operated their junction ; that of general Huger, which, notwith-
standing all his diligence, was the last to arrive, and that of colonel
Morgan. Greene felt the more joy at this union, as it was highly
honorable to his ability. Thus, by the prudence of the American
commanders, and by the fortitude and celerity of their soldiers,
together with a happy coincidence of fortuitous causes, was defeated
the double plan of lord Cornwallis. He could neither exterminate
Morgan, nor prevent his re-union with Huger. There remained now
but one operation which could indemnify him for so many losses ;
and that was to cut Greene off from Virginia. The two armies
were already upon the confines of that province. It is separated
from North Carolina by the Roanoke, which in its upper part is
called the Dan. The British general, conceiving that river not ford-
able in the lower parts, calculated that jf he could gain the high
country, he should be at liberty to move as he might see fit. For
supposing that Greene could not pass the Dan, he would then be
surrounded on all sides ; on the north by Cornwallis himself, on the
west by great rivers, on the south by lord Rawdon, who remained
BOOK XIII THE AMERICAN WAR. 319
at Caniden with a respectable force, and on the east by the sea.
Moreover, notwithstanding the juncture of the American troops, they
were still so inferior to those of the English, that the latter consid-
ered themselves perfectly assured of a complete victory. The two
parties were equally aware that success must depend on the rapidity
of marches ; they accordingly both bent their course, with all possi-
ble velocity, upon the formidable parts of the Dan. The English,
desirous to repair the time lost in their preceding passages, exerted
prodigious efforts, and occupied the fords the first. The, position of
Greene was now truly critical. He turned rapidly towards a lower
ford, called Boyds Ferry, uncertain of the safety or destruction of
his army, since he was ignorant if that ford was practicable. The
royal troops pursued him with vehemence ; they looked upon their
approaching victory as a positive certainty. Greene, in so pressing
an emergency, summoned all the faculties of his soul, and did all
that could have been expected of a consummate general.
He formed a strong carps of his best light troops, consisting in the
regiments of cavalry of Lee, of Bland, and of Washington, in com-
panies of light infantry, drawn from regiments of the line, and in
some riflemen. He charged the commander of this corps to sustain
the efforts of the enemy, and to bear in mind that the salvation of
the army was in his hands. As to himself, with the rest of his troops
and the heavy baggage, he proceeded with all expedition towards
Boyds Ferry. The royalists pushed forward with eagerness from
Salem to the sources of the Haw, from that point to Reedy Fork,
from there to Troublesome Creek, and thence towards the Dan.
But the detached corps which has just been mentioned, by continual
skirmishes, and the breaking up of roads and bridges, materially
retarded their march. Greene had already reached the margin of
the river ; he found it fordable ; some boats at hand accelerated the
passage ; he gained the Virginian shore ; all the baggage was passed
over with equal success. Even the gallant rear guard, which Had
preserved the army, arrived a little after, and crossed with the same
happy auspices, to the safe side of the river.
It was not long before the English, full of earnestness, made their
appearance upon the right of the Dan ; they perceived upon the
opposite bank the American army formed in menacing array. All
their hopes were vanished ; the fruit of all their efforts, of all their
sufferings, was lost irrecoverably. The retreat of general Greene
and the pursuit of lord Cornwallis, are worthy to be placed among
the most remarkable events of the American war ; they would have
done honor to the most celebrated captains of that, or any former
epoch
320 THE AMERICAN WAR. BOOK XIII.
Compelled so unexpectedly to relinquish the object of his sanguine
hope, lord Cornwallis meditated upon the course he had now to
pursue. The attack of Virginia, with forces so enfeebled as were
his own, appeared to him the more perilous, as the American army
preserved the most imposing attitude. Under this consideration, he
determined to remain in North Carolina, of which he was master,
and set himself to levy troops in the name of the king. With this
intent he quitted the banks of the Dan, and repaired by easy marches
to Hillsborough ; where, having erected the royal standard, he invited
the inhabitants, by an energetic proclamation, to form themselves into
regular companies. But these efforts were not attended with the
success he had hoped ; a great number of the country people came
to his head quarters, but the greater part to satisfy their curiosity, to
gain intelligence, and to make their profit of it. All manifested an
extreme repugnance to arming against the congress. Lord Cornwallis
k complained, publicly of their coldness. He saw that he could place
no dependence upon the assistance of the people of this province,
formerly so celebrated for their attachment to the name of the king.
The long domination of the republicans, and the horrible enormities
committed by wie royal troops in different parts of the American
continent, had given birth to sentiments of quite another cast. In-
sensibly detached from the cause of the king, the inhabitants, besides,
could not forget the vicinity of the republican army, which at any
moment might again penetrate into their province. About this time,
a British squadron, and a body of troops detached from Charleston,
took possession of Wilmington, a city of North Carolina, situated not
far from the mouth of Cape Fear river. They fortified themselves
there, seized munitions of war, and even some vessels, both French
and American. This expedition had been ordered by Cornwallis
prior to his departure from Winnsborough, in pursuit of Morgan.
Its principal object was that of opening a communication between
the country about Hillsborough and the sea, by the way of Cape
Fear river ; an object of the utmost importance, as it afforded a sure
mode of passing supplies to the army.
The retreat of Greene into Virginia, although it had not produced
upon the minds of those Carolinians who remained faithful to the
king, all that effect which Cornwallis had expected from it, had,
nevertheless, excited, in some, fresh hopes and desires of a new
order of things. The British general redoubled his efforts and in-
stances to induce them to take arms. The district situated between
the Haw and the Deep river, was represented as particularly abound-
ing in loyalists ; Cornwallis sent them Tarleton, to animate and
BOOK XIII. THE AMERICAN WAR. • 321
imbody them. His exhortations were not in vain. The family of
Pill, one of the most considerable of the country, was also the most
ardent to set the example. Already a colonel of that family had
assembled a considerable body of his most audacious partisans, and
was on his way to join Tarleton. But general Greene, who was fully
sensible how prejudicial it would prove to the arms of congress if hi
suffered its cause to succumb entirely in North Carolina, and fearing
lest the loyalists might operate a revolution in that province, had
detached anew, upon the right bank of the Dan, a body of cavalry
under the conduct of colonel Lee, with a view of intimidating the
partisans of England, re-assuring those of the congress, and disquiet-
ing the movements of the enemy in the interior of the country. He
intended also himself, as soon as he should have received his re-in-
forcements, which were already on the march, to repass the river,
and show himself again upon the territory of the Carolinas. The
recovery of those provinces was the fixed aim of all his thoughts.
Meanwhile, colonel Lee was by no means tardy in acting accord-
ing to the instructions of his general. The troop assembled by
colonel Pill was the first that fell in his way. These loyalists, totally
unacquainted with the profession of arms, knew so little how to clear
their march, that thinking they were going to meet Tarleton, they
threw themselves headlong into the corps of Lee. The Americans
enveloped and charged them with rapid vigor. The loyalists, still
supposing their affair was with Tarleton, and that he mistook them
for republicans, were eager to make themselves known by reiterated
cries of 'Long live the king.' The fury of the assailants did but
rage the fiercer, and in a few instants all that survived were obliged
to surrender. Thus, this inexpert troop were led to slaughter by a
presumptuous chief, who had imagined that the spirit of party could
fill the place of knowledge and talents ! At the news of this event,,
which was rather an execution than a combat, Tarleton, who wa*
not far off, put himself in motion, with intent to encounter Lee ; but
an order of Cornwallis checked him, and drew him back to Hillsbo-
rough. The cause of this sudden resolution of the British general,
was, that Greene, though even yet he had received only a small part
of his re-inforcements, had boldly re-passed the Dan, and menaced
again to overrun*1Carolina. Not, however, that his real intuition
was to give his adversary battle before having assembled his whole
force ; but he wished to show Cornwallis and the patriots of the prov-
ince that he was in being, and able to keep the field. He chose a
position upon the left of the Dan, and very high up, towards tho
sources of the Haw, in order to avoid the necessity of fighting.
VOL. ii. 21
322 THE AMERICAN WAR. BOOK XIII.
Cornwallis, on hearing that the American banners had re-appeared
in Carolina, quitted Hillsborough forthwith, and crossing the Haw
at a lower ford, proceeded to encamp near Allemance creek, detach-
ing Tarleton with his cavalry to scour the country as far as Deep
river. Thus the two armies found themselves so near each other,
as to be separated only by the river Haw. Hence frequent skirmishes
ensued. In one of these rencounters, Tarleton did great mischief
to the corps of Lee, which was joined by the mountaineers and mili-
tia, under the command of captain Preston. The two generals ma-
neuvered a long time with uncommon ability ; the American to avoid
battle, the Englishman to force him to it. Greene had the good for-
tune, or the skill, to continue master of his movements. But to-
wards the middle of March, ne received re-inforcements, which con-
sisted principally of continental troops. He was joined, at the same
time, by militia from Virginia, under the conduct of general Law-
son, as also by some Carolinian militia, led by the generals Butler
and Eaton. Having acquired more confidence in his strength, Greene
took a resolution no longer to decline a decisive action, but, on the
contrary, to march directly to the enemy. He accordingly pushed
forward with all his troops, and took post at Guildford Court House.
He had reflected that being superior in number, and principally in
cavalry, he could not experience a total and irreparable defeat. The
worst consequence that could follow a loss of battle, was that of
placing him under the necessity of retiring into Virginia, where he
would have found the utmost facility in re-establishing his army. He
had also to consider that the numerous militia assembled in his camp
would soon disband, unless he availed himself immediately of their
first ardor. On the other hand, if the English were beaten, far from
their ships, entangled in a country where they were detested, and
without means of retreat, how could their army escape a total de-
struction ? They had therefore much more at risk than the Amer-
icans, in refering the decision of their fate to the chance of arms.
Lord Cornwallis saw distinctly, on his part, that it would be an
inexcusable imprudence to remain longer in the midst of a popula-
tion which every thing taught him to distrust, while a formidable
enemy menaced him in front. But retreat, in all respects so preju-
dicial to the interests of the king, was accompanied with so many
dangers, that it became next to impracticable. In turning his eyes
upon his camp, the British general beheld all soldiers nurtured in
the toils of war, and trained to victory in a host of combats. Ban-
ishing then all hesitation, he embraced, if not the least perilous, as-
suredly the most honorable course, and gave orders to advance upon
BOOK XIII THE AMERICAN WAR. 323
Guild lord. This resolution was undertaken irrevocably to put an
end to uncertainties by striking a decisive blow. To relieve his
march, and facilitate his retreat in case of a check, lord Cornwallis
sent his carriages and baggage under strong escort to Bells Mills, a
place situated upon the Deep river. Greene in like manner passed
his wagons to Iron Works, ten miles in the rear of his position.
The reconnoitering parties of the two armies went out in all direc-
tions for intelligence. The legion of Lee and that of Tarleton fell
in with each other in one of these excursions, and a fierce conflict
ensued. Lee at first had the advantage; but he was obliged to
give way in his turn, when Tarleton had been re-inforced. These
skirmishes were but the prelude of the battle for which both parties
were preparing themselves.
The Americans, on their side, numbered about six thousand men,
the greater part militia of Virginia and North Carolina ; the remain-
der consisted in regular troops from Virginia, Maryland and Dela-
ware. The English, including the Hessians, amounted to upwards
of twenty-four hundred soldiers. All the adjacent country was
clothed with thick wood, interspersed, here and there, with spots of
cultivation. A gentle and woody declivity traversed and extended
far on both sides of the great road which leads from Salisbury to
Guildford. This road itself runs through the center of the forest.
In front, and before coming to the foot of the hill, there was a field
six hundred yards in breadth. Behind the forest, between its lower
edge and the houses of Guildford, lay another field still more open,
and adapted to military evolutions. General Greene had thrown
troops into the wood that covered the slope, and had likewise occu-
pied the contiguous plain. In this position he purposed to receive
the enemy. His order of battle consisted in three divisions ; the
first, composed of the militia of North Carolina, and commanded
by the generals Butler and Eaton, was posted towards the foot of
the hill, upon the fore edge of the forest ; its front was covered by
a thick hedge ; two pieces of cannon defended the great road. The
second division comprised the militia of Virginia, under the conduct
of the generals Stevens and Lawson ; it was formed in the wood
parallel to the first, and about eight hundred yards behind it. The
regular troops, under general Huger and colonel Williams, filled
the plain which extends from the forest to Guildford; this ground
permitted them to maneuver, and to signalize their valor. Two
other pieces of cannon, planted upon an eminence which covered
their flank, commanded also the highway.
Colonel Washington, with his dragoons and Linen's riflemen, flank-
324 THE AMERICAN WAR BOOKXIH.
ed the right wing, and colonel Lee, with a detachment of light infan-
try and the dragoons of Campbell, the left. The British general drew
up on his part. General Leslie, with an English regiment and the
Hessian regiment of Bose, occupied the right of the first line ; and
colonel Webster, with two English regiments, the left. A battalion of
guards formed a sort of reserve to the first, and another under gene-
ral O'Hara to the second. The artillery and grenadiers marched
in close column upon the great road. Tarleton was posted there
likewise with his legion : but his orders were not to move, except
upon emergency, until the infantry, after having carried the forest,
should have advanced into the plain behind it, where cavalry could
operate with facility. The action was commenced on both sides
by a brisk cannonade. The English, afterwards, leaving their artil-
lery behind, rushed forward through the fire of the enemy into the
intermediate plain. The Carolinian militia suffered them to ap-
proach without flinching, then began to fire. Tne English made but
one discharge, and immediately ran forward to charge with bayonets.
The Carolinians showed no firmness. Without awaiting the shock
of the enemy, notwithstanding the strength of their position, they
recoiled, and took shamefully to flight. Their officers vainly endeav-
ored to dissipate their terror, and to rally them. Thus the first line
of the American army was totally routed. General Stevens, seeing
the panic of the Carolinian militia, hastened to re-assure those he
commanded, by giving out that the other had orders to fall back,
after the first discharges. He opened his ranks to let the fugitives
pass, and reclosed them immediately. The English, still advancing,
attacked the militia of Virginia. These bravely withstood their shock,
and disputed the ground with them for some time. At length, obliged
to give way, they also fell back, not without some disorder, upon the
continental troops. Meanwhile, as well by the effect of the combat,
fi<= from the inequality of the ground, and thickness of the wood, the
line of the British was likewise broken, and open in several places.
Their commanders, to fill up these vacant spaces, pushed forward the
two reserves. Then, all this division, having passed the forest, formed
in the plain that was behind it, and fell upon the continental troops ;.
but all the impetuosity of this attack was of no avail against the intre-
pidity of that division. Their resistance was so obstinate that victory
for a while appeared uncertain. General Leslie, finding he could
make no impression upon the left of the Americans, and having suf-
fered excessively in the attempt, was constrained to retire behind a
i ravine, in order to await the news of what might have passed in other
parts. The action was supported io the center with inexpressible
BOOK XIII. THE AMERICAN WAR. 325
fierceness. Colonel Stewart, with the second battalion of guards
and a company of grenadiers, had fallen so vigorously upon the
troops of Delaware, that he had broken them, and taken from them
two pieces of cannon ; but the Marylanders came promptly to their
assistance, and not only restored the battle, but even forced the
English to recoil in disorder. At this noment colonel Washington
came up with his cavalry, charging the royalists with impetuosity ;
lie put them to flight, cut most of them down, and recovered the two
pieces of cannon.
Colonel Stewart himself perished in the carnage. At this instant
the fate of the day hung by a single thread. If the Americans had
done all that was in their power, the whole British army was crushed.,
After the defeat of the British guards and the death of Stewart, if
the republicans had occupied the hill which rises on the side of the
great road upon the hinder border of the wood, and furnished it with
artillery, it cannot be doubted that victory would have declared for
them. For then the English would not have had power to advance
fresh troops into that part ; their left wing would have been separated
from the center and right ; and the battalions of guards would not
have been able to recover from the confusion into which they had
been thrown. But the Americans, content with the advantage
they had already obtained, instead of taking possession of the height,
repaired to the posts they occupied before the engagement. At sight
of this error, lieutenant-colonel Macleod hastened to take advantage
of it ; he advanced the artillery, placed it upon the aforesaid emi-
nence, and opened a destructive fire against the front of the cotitU
nental troops. The grenadiers and another English regiment re-
appeared at the same instant upon the right of the plain, and made a
vigorous charge upon their flank. Another English regiment fell at
the same time upon their left, and Tarleton came up at full speed
with his legion. General O'Hara, though dangerously wounded,
had succeeded in rallying the British guards. All these succors
arrived so opportunely that the disorder of the center and first line
was promptly repaired.
The American regulars, who had to sustain unsupported the whole
weight of the action, finding themselves assailed on so many parts,
began to think of their retreat. They made it step by step, without
breaking their ranks ; and invariably preserving a menacing attitude.
They were constrained, however, to abandon upon the field of battle,
not only the two field pieces which they had retaken, but two others
besides. Colonel Webster, then rejoining the center with his left
wing, made a brisk charge upon the extremity of the right of Greene,
and forced it to give way. Cornwallis abstained from sending the
326 THE AMERICAN WAR. BOOK XII I.
cavalry of Tarlet »n's legion in pursuit of the Americans ; he had
need of them in another part. His right was still engaged with the
left of Greene. The Hessian regiment of Bose, commanded by
colonel de Buy, who in this day displayed an undaunted valor,
and the other British troops, exerted the most desperate efforts to
break the enemy, who defended himself with equal gallantry. The
ground was rough, and incumbered with trees and bushes ; the Amer-
icans availed themselves of it to combat as marksmen with their
accustomed dexterity. If broken, they reformed, if forced to retire,
they returned, if dispersed, they rallied, and charged anew. In the
height of this engagement, or rather of this multitude of partial ren-
counfprs, Tarleton, who had denied behind the right wing of the
royalists, and who was covered by the smoke of their arms, as they
and purposely fired altogether to this end, fell briskly upon the ene-
my, and in a moment swept them from the ground they occupied.
The militia threw themselves into the wood, and the Hessians at last
found themselves entirely disengaged from this long and obstinate
conflict.
Thus terminated the stubborn and much varied baltle of Guildford,
which was fought on the fifteenth of March. The American loss in
killed, wounded, prisoners, and missing, amounted to upwards of
thirteen hundred men. The prisoners were few. Almost all the
wounded belonged to the continental troops, and the fugitives dis-
persed, or returned to their homes, to the militia. The generals Huger
and Stevens were among the wounded. The loss of the British
was, in proportion to their number, much more considerable. Their
dead and wounded exceeded six hundred. Besides colonel Stew-
art, they had to lament colonel Webster. The generals Howard and
O'Hara, the first in the army after lord Cornwallis, and colonel
Tarleton, received very severe wounds.
After the action, Greene withdrew behind the Reedy Fork, where
he remained some time to collect the fugitives and stragglers.
Afterwards, continuing his retreat, he went to encamp at Iron Works,
upon Troublesome Creek. Cornwallis remained master of the field
of battle. But he was not merely unable to reap any of the ordi-
nary fruits of victory, he was even constrained to embrace those
counsels, which are the usual resource of the vanquished. The
fatigue of his soldiers, the multitude of his wounded, the strength of
the new position which the American general had taken, and the
superiority of the enemy in light troops, and particularly in cavalry,
prevented him from pursuing his success. Moreover, the number
and spirit of the partisans of congress seemed to increase with the
coldness of the loyalists. Far from rearing the crest after the battle
BOOK XIII. THE AMERICAN WAR. 327
of Guildford, they showed themselves quite deaf to the invocations
of Cornwallis, who urged them to take arms and assemble under his
banners. To crown his embarrassments, the scarcity of provision
became continually more and more sensible. These motives united,
determined the British general to fall back as far as Bells Mills,
upon the Deep river ; leaving at New Garden those of his wounded
that were least in condition to move. They fell into the power of
the republicans.
After having given his troops a few days' repose at Bells Mills,
and collected some provision, he marched towards Cross Creek,
upon the road to Wilmington. Greene followed him briskly, and
with a cloud of light infantry and horse, continually infested his rear.
He did not cease the pursuit till Cornwallis had arrived at Ramsays
Mills. The British had destroyed the bridge at that place over the
Deep river, and the country, being excessively steril, aiforded no
means of sustenance. Swayed, however, by his daring and enter-
prising character, the American general resolved to profit of the
present condition of the royalists. He took the determination to
march boldly upon South Carolina, which was then almost entirely
stripped of troops. He accordingly defiled by forced marches to-
wards Camden. Though worsted at Guildford, Greene thus showed
himself in the field, with forces more formidable than ever. It was
the victors who fled before the vanquished ; the latter seemed to
have gained new alacrity and new ardor by their reverses.
After a painful march, lord Cornwallis reached Wilmington, on
the seventh of April. Here he held a council upon two operations,
both of extreme importance. One was to repair forthwith to the
relief of South Carolina ; the other to inarch into Virginia, in order
to make his junction with the troops of Arnold and with those which
had lately been sent thither under the conduct of general Philips.
The British generals were much divided in opinion respecting the
course to be adopted in a conjuncture which might decide the fata
of the whole war. Some were inclined that the army should march
immediately into Virginia. They alledged { that all the country
between the Cape Fear river and Camden was poor, exhausted,
and interrupted by frequent rivers and creeks ; that the passage of
the Pedee, in the presence of so formidable an enemy, was a rash
enterprise ; that the road by Georgetown presented tlie same diffi-
culties ; that the transportation of the troops to Charleston by sea,
was an undertaking that would require too much time and toil ; that
there was nothing to fear for the latter city ; that by attacking Vir-
ginia with an imposing force, Greene would be forced to abandon
the Carolinas ; that it would be impossible to arrive in time to the
328 THE AMERICAN WAR. BOOK XIII.
relief of lord Rawdon, who was then at Camden ; and that if he
wa? beaten before the arrival of re-inforcements, these succors them-
selves would be exposed to the almost inevitable peril of being cut
in pieces by an enemy incomparably superior in force.'
The partisans of the contrary opinion maintained, ' that the roads
of Virginia were not less, and perhaps more difficult, than those of
the Carolinas ; that the tediousness of embarkations proceeded al-
ways from cavalry, and that this might easily make its way good by
land ; the cavalry officers had asserted it, and especially Tarleton,
who had offered to execute it ; that consequently, with fair wind,
nothing was easier than to arrive in season to the succor of the Caro-
linas ; that since it had not been possible to conquer Virginia, it was
essential at least to retain those provinces ; that the invasion of Vir-
ginia involved the certain sacrifice of two provinces, already in pos-
session, if not of three, from the dubious prospect of gaining one
only ; that the people of the Carolinas, imboldened by the approach
of G~eene, and by the distance of the royal army, were already
openly tending to a new order of things ; that the colonels Sumpter
and Marion showed themselves audaciously in the open field ; that if
there was nothing to fear for Charleston, there was assuredly equal
reason for security with respect to Camden, defended by a numerous
garrison, and a general as skilful as valiant ; that so long as the
places of Charleston and Camden should remain in the power of his
majesty, the Carolinas could not be wrested from his authority, with-
out being immediately and easily replaced under the yoke ; fhat it
was deeply to be regretted that the march upon Camden had not
been undertaken at the very moment when, the army being still
upon Cross Creek, it was ascertained that thence to Wilmington the
Cape Fear river no longer afforded an open and safe navigation ;
that whatever uncertainty might have been thrown upon the success
of this operation by the delays which had already taken place, it was
nevertheless still possible, and that, consequently, it ought to be
undertaken.'
The first opinion obtained. After having made some stay at Wil-
mington, for the refreshment of his troops and the collection of pro-
vision, Cornwallis directed his march upon Virginia. This resolu-
tion of the commander of the British forces had the most remarka-
ble consequences ; it led to an event which may be considered as
the principal cause of the prompt termination of this war, and the
consequent acknowledgment of American independence.
END 0»' BOOK THIRTEENTH.
BOOK XIV. THE AMERICAN WAR.
BOOK FOURTEENTH.
1781 AFTER having pursued each other alternately, for a consid-
erable length of time, Greene and Cornwallis diverged, as we have
seen, the first upon South Carolina, the second upon Virginia. But
while they were thus contending for American provinces, England
and Holland were preparing for war, and had even already com-
menced reciprocal hostilities. The former, who appeared to have
anticipated this war for some time back, and who, being already com-
pletely armed, could seize the occasion for making it with advantage,
hoped, by a sudden and impetuous attack, to level a decisive blow
at the power and wealth of her enemy. Such was the motive
which had induced her to hasten her declaration of war. It was not
doubted in England but that the success which would be gained
over Holland, would afford ample compensation for the losses which
had been sustained on the part of the French and Americans. The
British cabinet expected thus to bring into the negotiations for peace,
whenever they should take place, such an aggregate of advantages,
as would be sufficient to procure it the most favorable conditions.
The Hollanders, on the other hand, persuaded themselves that they
saw in the simultaneous display of those formidable forces to which
they were about to join their own, the suce means of resuscitating
their ancient maritime glory. They were especially elated with the
prospect of recovering the rich possessions which had been wrested
from them in preceding wars, and of rescuing their commerce from
the outrageous vexations of England. The ardor which animated all
minds, manifested itself in the preparations that were made in the
ports of the republic. The States-General ordered the equipment
of ninety-four ships of war, of which, eleven of the line, fifteen of
fifty guns, two of forty, and the rest of less force. Eighteen thou-
sand seamen formed the crews. of this fleet. Fast-sailing vessels
were dispatched to the different Dutch possessions, to apprise the
governors of the commencement of hostilities, and to recommend
to them the greatest vigilance. The king of France ordained that in
all the ports of his dominions, any Dutch vessels found therein should
receive prompt notice of the new danger they had to fear at sea, on
the part of an alert and enterprising enemy. In taking this care of
the interests of her new ally, France wished to manifest her grati-
tude for the warmth with which Holland had espoused her cause.
But unfortunately all these precautions could not operate the bene-
ficial effects wnich were expected from them The English, who.
330 THE AMERICAN WAR. BOOK XJT
long before the rupture, had meditated the design of attacking Hol-
land, profited with success of all the means which they had prepared
for her annoyance, before she had time to put herself in a state of
defense. Some ships of war and several merchant vessels with
valuable cargoes fell into their power. In the number of the first
was the Rotterdam, of fifty guns, which was taken by the Warwick
ship of the line. But these losses were trivial, in comparison with
those which the Dutch sustained in the East Indies. The British
commanders in that part had received early instructions to make
themselves masters of the possessions of the republic, whether insular
or continental. The security of a long peace had occasioned in
them a desuetude of all defensive precaution ; and thus the riches
therein amassed might easily become the prey of the first enemy
\vho should present himself.
Admiral Rodney, who towards the close of the preceding year had
returned from New York to St. Lucia, and general Vaughan, con-
certed their operations forthwith. Herein they moved with the more
alacrity, as the king, by a late order, had granted to his land and sea
officers a considerable part of the booty that should be gained upon
the Dutch. After a vain attempt to re-capture the island of St.
vmcent, and having, in order to mask the real design, alarmed the
inhabitants of Martinico by a sudden appearance upon their coastsv
Rodney and Vaughan presented themselves unexpectedly, the third ot
February, before the island of St. Eustatius, belonging to the Dutch.
Their forces consisted of seventeen ships, and four thousand land
forces. This island was as defenseless as the wealth it contained
was prodigious? Although it is rough and mountainous, and affords
one only landing place, and that easily defensible, yet the governor,
with a handful of men for all garrison, could have no hope of being
able to repulse an attack. The population itself comprised but a
very small number of Dutch ; the remainder was composed of men
of divers countries and sentiments ; French, Spaniards, Americans,
English, all persons occupied exclusively with their commerce, and
strangers to military service. The governor himself, almost without
soldiers and without arms, would sooner have believed any thing else,
than that he was menaced with an approaching attack.
The island of St. Eustatius is by nature arid and steril. It pro-
duces not above six or seven hundred hogsheads of sugar a year.
But it was become at this epoch the most frequented and richest em-
porium of the West Indies. Being a free port, it attracted a vast
conflux of merchants from all parts of the world, assured of finding
in it protection, facility of exchanges, and money in abundance. Its
neutrality in the midst of belligerent powers * had brought it to this
BOOK XIV THE AMERICAN WAR. 331
flourishing condition, and rendered it the mart of nations. Thither
went the Spaniards and French to dispose of their commodities,
and to procure the manufactures of England. Thither repaired the
English to sell these merchandises, and to buy those of France and
Spain.
But no people derived more profit than the Americans from the
fortunate neutrality of St. Eustatius. They carried thither the prod-
uce of their soil, and to the incalculable utility of the cause they
defended, they obtained, in return, arms and military stores, with
which the French, Spaniards, Dutch, and even the English them-
selves, kept that market well supplied. Hence, an orator of the
House of Commons, hurried away by a blamable resentment, did
not scruple to say, * that if St. Eustatius had been sunk to the bot-
tom of the ocean, American independence would have been crushed
in an instant.' The facts which followed were but too much in con-
sonance with this inhuman language. All Europe resounded with
complaints against British avarice.
Rodney and Vaughan sent a peremptory summons to the governor
to surrender the island and its dependencies within an hour j accom-
panied with a declaration or threat, that if any resistance was made,
he must abide by the consequences. M. de Graaf, totally ignorant
of the rupture, could scarcely believe the officer who delivered the
summons to be serious. He, however, returned for answer, that,
being utterly incapable of making any defense against the force which
invested the island, he must, of necessity, surrender it ; only recom-
mending the town and inhabitants to the clemency and mercy of the
British commanders. We are about to relate what were the effects of
this recommendation. The wealth found in the place was so immense,
as to excite the astonishment even of the conquerors, notwithstand-
ing even their intimate previous knowledge of its nature and circum-
stances. All the storehouses were not only filled with the most
precious merchandises, but the very streets and beach were covered
with hogsheads of tobacco and sugar. The value of the commodities
was estimated at a loose, but supposed moderate calculation, as being
considerably above three millions sterling. All, without distinction,
were seized, inventoried and confiscated.
The loss of the Dutch was severe j it fell principally upon their
West India company, with the magistracy and citizens of Amsterdam,
to whom a considerable part of the property belonged. The English
observed it with no little gratification ; they were irritated against that
city more than against any other part of the United Provinces, on
account of the warmth it had manifested in favor of France. The
greatest weight of the calamity, however, appears to have fallen upon
332 THE AMERICAN WAK. BOOK XIV.
the British merchants, who, confiding in the neutra.ity of the place,
and in some acts of parliament, made to encourage the bringing of
their property from the islands lately taken by the French, had accu-
mulated a great quantity of West India produce, as well as of Euro-
pean goods, in this place. Nor was the loss of the Dutch confined
to the seizure of the merchandise on shore ; above two hundred and
fifty vessels of all denominations, and many of them richly loaded,
were taken in the bay ; exclusive of a Dutch frigate of war, of thirty-
eight guns, and five armed vessels of less force. But fortune showed
herself still more adverse to the Hollanders. Rodney having infor-
mation that a fleet of about thirty large ships, richly laden with sugar
and other West India commodities, had, just before his arrival, sailed
from St. Eustatius for Holland, under convoy of a flag-ship of sixty
guns, he, with his ordinary activity, immediately dispatched two ships
of the line, the Monarch and Panther, with the Sybil frigate, in pursuit
of them. These soon overtook the convoy. The Dutch admiral,
Krull, notwithstanding the great inferiority of his force, resolved to
brave all the dangers of combat, rather than to surrender dishonora-
bly. With his ship, the Mars, he engaged the Monarch, of seventy-
four guns ; but he was killed soon after the commencement of the
action, and his successor immediately struck. The Panther and
Sybil having in the mean time restrained the flight and separation of
the merchantmen, the whole convoy was taken.
The Dutch colors were kept up for some time in the fort of St.
Eustatius ; this stratagem was fatal to a considerable number of
French, Dutch, and American vessels, which were thus decoyed into
the hands of their enemies. The violation of the property of private
men, though enemies, a violation not sanctioned by the usages of
civilized nations, excited energetic remonstrances on the part of the
inhabitants of the British West India islands, and of Great Britain
itself, so far as they were interested. They alledged, that their con-
nections with St. Eustatius, and the property they had lodged in it,
were all in pursuance to, and under the sanction of repeated acts of
the British parliament ; that in every age, all conquerors who have
not chosen to be classed with barbarians, have respected not only the
private property of their fellow-citizens, but even that of their ene-
mies ; and that this example might have the most pernicious conse-
quences. « In effect,' said they, « if, through the incalculable chances
of war, our islands should fall into the power of the enemy, would he
not be authorized, by the right of reprisal, to violate the property of
private Englishmen, and even to ruin them totally ? Did the French
give an example of this barbarous conduct when they became masters
of Grenada ? Did they lay hands upon the property of a single pn-
mi*
BOOK XIV. THE AMERICAN WAR. 333
vate individual, though they had taken the island by assault, and with-
out any capitulation ? 'If the count d'Estaing went so far as to se-
quester, until peace, the estates of absentees, the court of Versailles
was not slow to condemn this resolution of its admiral, by ordering
the removal of the sequestrations. St. Eustatius was a free port,
and as such recognized by all the maritime powers of Europe, not
excepting England herself. Our taws had not only permitted, but
even encouraged a commerce with that island. The officers of the
British customs delivered clearances for those very goods destined
for St. Eustatius, which are now subjected to confiscation. Has not
this trade furnished the means of subsistence to the islands of Anti-
gua, and St. Christophers, whose inhabitants, but for this resource,
must have perished by famine, or thrown themselves into the arms
of the enemy ? The colonists of St. Eustatius are indebted in large
sums to British merchants ; how will they be able to clear these
balances if their effects remain confiscated ?
' In a word, it is to be presumed that the conquest of the Dutch
islands by the arms of the king, has been undertaken with nobler
views than that of pillaging and ruining their inhabitants.'
All these representations were of no avail. Rodney had acted 5i»
strict conformity to the instructions of his government. He answer
ed the complainers, that he could not recover from his astonishment
that British merchants, instead of sending their goods into the wind-
ward islands belonging to England, had sent them to a leeward island,
whither they could only have been transported with intent to supply
the wants of the enemies of their king and country. But it is to
be observed, that if these British merchants were in fault, the com-
manders of the king's vessels were still more blamable for having
brought in and sold at this same port of St. Eustatius the prizes they
had captured at sea ; some laden with provisions, others with arms
and military stores ; which thus found their way to the enemies of
Great Britain, and served to recruit their resources for continuing the
war. Rodney added, that the island of St. Eustatius was Dutch, every
thing in it was Dutch, was under the protection of the Dutch flag,
and as Dutch it should be treated. The rigor of these principles
was applied likewise to the neighboring small islands of St Martin
and Saba, which fell at the same time into the power of the English.
But the British commanders, not content with pillaging property,
proceeded to wreak their cruelty on persons. All individuals not
English were not only banished from the island, but subjected to
the most odious vexations. The Jews, who were numerous and
wealthy, were the first to experience the brutality of the conqueior.
They were all crowded into the custom house ; searched from head
334 THE AMERICAN WAR. BOOK XIV
to foot ; then the skirts of their coats were docked to the waist
Their trunks and portmanteaus were forced open and ransacked.
Stripped of their money and effects, they were, in that state of naked-
ness and wretchedness, transported as outlaws, and landed on the
island of St. Christophers. A sea captain named Santon was the
superintendent and chief executioner of the barbarity of his chiefs.
The Americans soon shared the fate of the Jews. After having un-
dergone a total spoliation, these unhappy people were sent to St.
Christophers, as a race devoted to misery and death. Among them,
however, were many of those loyalists, who had been obliged to fly
their native country through the part which they had taken in sup-
port of the British cause and government.
Thus expelled by their fellow-citizens as friends to the English, and
expelled by the English as friends to the Americans, these ill-fated
refugees were punished as severely for having preserved their fidelity
towards the king, as if they had violated it. The assembly of St.
Christophers manifested the most honorable compassion for these vic-
tims at once of rapine and of cruelty ; they passed an immediate act
for their relief and future provision, until they should have time to
recover from their calamitous situation. The French and Dutch
merchants were banished the last from St. Eustatius. This decree
was executed with particular rigor towards those of Amsterdam. In
the meantime, public sales were advertised, invitation given, and pro-
tection offered, to purchasers of all nations and sorts; and the island
of St. Eustatius became one of the greatest auctions that ever was open-
ed in the universe. It was attended by an immense concourse of the
merchants of friendly or neutral nations ; they bought as well for their
own account as on commission for the French and Spaniards, to whom
their vicinity and the war rendered those goods more valuable. Thus,
after having so cruelly treated the inhabitants of St. Eustatius, under
the pretence that they had supplied the enemies of England, in the
ordinary way of commerce, the British commanders undertook them-
selves to supply those enemies by opening a public market, and bid-
ding buyers by proclamation. Never perhaps was a more consider-
able sale ; the gains of Rodney and Vaughan were immense ; but it
was fated that they should not long enjoy them ; Heaven, as we shall
soon see, had in reserve an exemplary chastisement for their avarice.
The loss of St. Eustatius was not the only misfortune which befell
the Dutch in the West Indies. It seemed as if the English, in their
zeal to reduce their new enemy, had forgotten that they had any
other to encounter. Holland possessed on the continent of South
America, in that vast country anciently called Guiana, the important
colony of Surinam. The governor had made no preparations for
BOOK XIV. THE AMERICAN WAR. 335
defense ; he was even ignorant of the declaration of war. But all
of a sudden he was visited by a squadron of British privateers, mostly
belonging to Bristol. In contempt of all danger, they entered the
rivers of Demerary and Issequibo, and brought out from under the
guns of the Dutch forts and batteries, almost all the vessels of any
value in either river. The colonists of that part, seized with con-
sternation at the approach of these audacious cruisers, sent to make a
tender of their submission to the governor of Barbadoes : requiring
no other terms but a participation of those which had bfeen granted
to St. Eustatius, without knowing, however, what they were. The
governor readily consented to their wishes. When shortly after they
were apprised of the fate of St. Eustatius, they began to tremble for
their own. But Rodney showed himself more humane towards the
colonists of Demerary, Issequibo, and Berbice, who had voluntarily
put themselves under the British dominion, than he had been towards
those of St. Eustatius. He guarantied the safety of persons and
property, and made no change in their existing laws and authorities.
Thus fortune every where smiled upon the English, in their first
attempts against the Dutch possessions in the West Indies. They
were less successful against the Spaniards, who had recently invaded,
in considerable force, the confines of West Florida. Don Galvez,
the governor of Louisiana, and admiral don Solano, after having
teen battered by a horrible tempest, had arrived before, and laid
siege to Pensacola, the capital of that province. The place was
strong ; and general Campbell, the commandant, defended himself
for a long time with great valor. But a bomb having fallen upon the
powder magazine, it exploded, and demolished the principal redoubt.
The Spaniards occupied it immediately, and made their dispositions
for assaulting the body of the place. Campbell then thought it best
to capitulate ; he obtained the most honorable conditions. Thus all
West Florida, which had been for the English one of the most
precious fruits of the war of Canada, returned after a few years
under the dominion of the Spaniards.
The order of history requires that we should now turn our atten-
tion from fields of battle, upon the cabinets which directed the
operations we have witnessed ; and that we should endeavor to
describe what was, at this period, the policy of the belligerent
powers.
The Americans conceived they had grounds to complain bitterly
of the French, their allies. They alledged that, saving some vain
demonstrations from without, France had afforded them no effica-
cious assistance whatever ; and that she left them to struggle by
themselves against a powerful enemy. They affirmed, that ' the
336 THE AMERICAN AVAR. BOOK XIV.
French troops disembarked at Rhode Island, had not been able to
render them any service, through defect of a sufficient naval force ;
that they must continue equally useless, so long as they were not
supported by a respectable squadron ; that no success could be hoped
for, in that part, without being masters at sea ; that, meanwhile, the
English continued to possess Georgia, the greatest part of South
Carolina, all New York, and, moreover, they had now invaded Vir-
ginia ; that not a French battalion had been seen to move for the
defense or recovery of any of these provinces ; that while awaiting the
co-operation of their allies, the United States were oppressed by the
weight of an enterprise so much above their strength, that the war
consumed their population, paralyzed all industry, suspended al
culture, and, consequently, drained the sources of public revenue;
and that to crown so many calamities, there appeared no prospect of
their termination.
While the Americans thus vented their discontent, no little aston-
ishment was excited in Europe, that so formidable a coalition should
.Jiave proved so feeble in effect against the common enemy. Far from
bending, the English seemed, on the contrary, to have acquired more
elastic forces, and a more daring spirit. They pressed the Ameri-
cans with vigor, while they held the mastery of the West Indian
seas, possessed themselves of the Dutch colonies, made conquests in
the East Indies, and kept fortune in equilibrium in Europe. Thjp
state of things seemed to cloud the glory of the French and Spanish
names. The court of Versailles, as the soul and principal mover of
all this mass of forces, was itself the object of the heavy complaints
of the catholic king, who reproached it for not having promoted the
execution of his favorite projects, the conquest of Jamaica, and the
reduction of Gibraltar ; the siege of which he had already com-
menced. The Hollanders, on their part, who already felt the anguish
of so considerable losses, exclaimed that they were abandoned,
without any appearance of sympathy, to perils which they should not
have involved themselves in but for the counsels and instigations of
France. Their complaints were the more dolorous, as they had just
been informed that a formidable expedition was fitting out, in the
ports of Great Britain, against the Cape of Good Hope, an establish-
ment so vital for the preservation of their East India commerce.
They saw themselves menaced, in the oriental hemisphere, with
blows no less cruel than those which had so lately stunned them in
the New World. They perceived but too clearly that before it
would be possible for them to complete their preparations of defense,
and to dispatch succors into those remote regions, the English
would have time to accomplish their long meditated designs.
BOOK XIV. THE AMERICAN WAR. 337
Yielding to these various considerations and to the voice of his
own interest, the king of France determined to exert twofold vigor
and activity in the present campaign, in order to repair the time lost
in the preceding year. Accordingly the labors of the arsenal at
Brest were pushed with new ardor, while upon the different points
of the kingdom, the land forces held themselves in readiness to act.
Three principal objects were contemplated by the ministry. The
first was, to send such a fleet to the West Indies, as, when united
to the squadron already in the ports of Martinico, should secure to
France a maritime superiority in those seas. This fleet, the com-
mand of which was intrusted to the count de Grasse, was to carry
out a strong body of land troops. By means of this re-inforcement,
the marquis de Bouille would find himself in a situation to undertake
some important expedition against the British islands. After the
accomplishment whereof, and before the season of hostilities should
have elapsed, the count de Grasse was to repair to the coasts of
America, in order to co-operate with the count de Rochambeau and
general Washington. The second, was to send a squadron into the
African seas, in order to shield the Cape of Good Hope from the
danger that menaced it. After having provided for the security of
that colony, the squadron was to proceed to the East Indies, where
admiral Hughs had given a temporary superiority to the British flag.
Finally, the ministers meditated a brilliant stroke, in the seas of
Europe, in favor of the allied courts, and principally of Spain. An
expedition against Minorca was decided with unanimity. The Eng-
lish had penetrated, in great part, the plans of their enemies ; and
were preparing to oppose them with all those obstacles which they
deemed the most likely to render them abortive. They exerted an
extraordinary activity in equipping a fleet, which was to carry lord
Cornwallis a re-inforcement of several English regiments and three
thousand Hessians. It was hoped that this addition of force would
enable that general not only to maintain the conquests he had made,
but also to extend still further the progress of his arms. The victo-
ries of Camden and Guildford had inspired the British nation with
nc\v confidence ; all promised themselves a speedy conclusion of the
war, and the subjugation of America. The British ministers even
flattered themselves that the fleet they sent to the West Indies, though
it was not considerable, would nevertheless prove sufficient, by its
junction with the naval force already stationed there, to uphold the
present preponderance of England in those seas. The public atten-
tion was particularly attracted by an armament which consisted of
one ship of seventy-four guns, one of fifty-four, three of fifty, with
some frigates, cutters, fire-ships and other light vessels. This squad-
TOL. II. 22
333 THE AMERICAN WAR. BOOK XIV.
ron was to serve as escort to a great number of transports loaded
with an immense quantity of arms and military stores. General
Meadows embarked in it with a body of three thousand picked sol-
diers. The fleet was under the orders of commodore Johnstone
Manifold were the conjectures in public circulation respecting the
object of this expedition, which the government studied to cover with
impenetrable secrecy. It was generally presumed to be destined for
the East Indies, in order to reduce all the French possessions in that
part. This supposition, so far as appeared from the events which
followed, was not destitute of foundation. But it would seem also
that the war which broke out against Holland, constrained the British
ministry to change the destination of this armament, or at least to
restrict it to the attack of the Cape of Good Hope, and the re-in-
forcement of the troops which guarded the establishments in the
hither peninsula of India. It was deemed essential to provide for
their safety, even though it were not permitted by circumstances to
think of conquering those of the enemy. But of all the cares which
occupied the British cabinet at this epoch, it assuredly had none
more urgent than that of re-victualing Gibraltar. Herein, besides
the importance of the place, the honor of the British nation was
deeply'mterested. The Spaniards and English seemed to have set
each other at defiance at the foot of this rock. The first, relying
upon the fleet which they had at Cadiz, expected to be able to in-
tercept whatever succors should approach for the relief of the
garrison. It already began to suffer excessively from the scarcity of
provisions ; the supplies which admiral Rodney had introduced the
preceding year, were almost entirely consumed, and what remained
were so marred as to be scarcely edible. Already general Elliot
had been constrained to lessen a fourth of his soldiers' ration. In
order to give them the example of privations, the officers ceased
to dress their hair with powder. But the inhabitants of the city
suffered still more from the absolute want of the necessaries of life.
Such was the vigilance, and such the industry of the Spaniards in
then- endeavors to cut off all relief by sea, that since the supplies of
Rodney, scarcely a few vessels from the African shore and Minorca
had been able to make good their entrance into the port of Gibraltar.
But how far were these feeble succors from being in proportion to the
exigency ! Besides, the prices which the masters of these vessels
demanded for their commodities were so exorbitant, as to exceed
the faculties of the greater part of the inhabitants. The miserable
remains of the old provisions, spoilt as they were, commanded ex-
travagant rates.*
* Old sea biscuit, quite moldy, brought a shilling sterling the pound ; and difficult to
b» found Sour flour, and damaged peaa, were worth one shilling and four pence the
BOOK XIV. THE AMERICAN WAR. 339
The garrison supported all their sufferings with a heioic firmness ;
but without prompt succors it was impossible to prevent that for-
midable place, the key of the Mediterranean, from soon returning
under the domination of its ancient masters. The general attention,
in England, was directed towards this important point.
In Holland, meanwhile, the greatest industry was exerted in equip-
ping a fleet that should be capable of maintaining the dignity of the
republic, and of resuscitating its ancient glory. It was particularly
intended to protect the commerce of the Baltic against the rapacity
of England. These laudable intentions, however, were not attended
with all that effect which was to have been wished. The government
overruled the conflicting parties, but it could not prevent their fer-
menting covertly. Besides, a long peace had enervated minds, and
caused the neglect of naval preparations.
Such were, about that time, the projects and dispositions of the
powers engaged in this memorable contest. The preparatives of
war were immense ; the universe was in expectation of the most
important events. The English were the first to put to sea. Their
intent was to succor Gibraltar. On the thirteenth of March, a
fleet of twenty-eight ships of the line set sail from Portsmouth. It
was obliged to cruise some days upon the coasts of Ireland, to wait
for the victualing ships and merchantmen which were assembled, in
very great number, in the road of Cork. The convoys bound to the
two Indies departed under the protection of the fleet. When con-
ducted out of danger from the hostile fleets, they were to continue
their voyage. The squadron of commodore Johnstone sailed in
company with the great fleet ; being destined upon the expedition
against the Cape of Good Hope, it was to escort the East India
convoy up to that point. The armament was commanded by the
admirals Darby, Digby, and Lockhart Ross, each heading one of
the three divisions of which it was composed. The necessity of re-
victualing Gibraltar was notoriously evident, and the preparations
made by Great Britain for its accomplishment, could no longer be
concealed. The English themselves openly professed their inten-
tions on that head. The Spaniards were consequently too well
advised, not to have taken all the precautions in their power to con-
found the efforts of their enemies. They had armed, in the port of
pound. Black salt, the sweepings of warehouses, eight pence per pound ; butter, three
shillings per pound; a turkey, when to be had, thirty shillings; a sucking pig, forty
bhillings ; a duck ten shillings and six pence ; a lean fowl, nine shillings ; a loin of veal,
at least a guinea; and the head of an ox was sold at a still greater price. Firewood
was so scarce, that cold water was used for washing linen, and the flatiron wu
dispensed with; a thing which proved very prejudicial to the health of the troops.during
the ct-ld, humid season, which prevailed in the course of that winter.
BuOK XIV.
340 THE AMERICAN WAR.
Cadiz, a fleet of thirty sail of the line. The court had placed it
under the conduct of don Lewis de Cordova, a seaman of high
reputation. This was without doubt an imposing force, and the
Spaniards had exaggerated it greatly beyond the truth, in order to
deter the English, if possible, from executing their intended enter-
prise. Wishing to corroborate also, by his audacity, any discouraging
apprehensions which the enemy might have entertained, don Lewis
often issued from the port of Cadiz, to parade along the coast of
Portugal, and even upon the route which the English must keep in
sailing towards Gibraltar. The Spaniards, moreover, gave out that
they were about to be joined by strong divisions of the French squad-
rons then at anchor as well »n the Atlantic ports as in that of Toulon.
There was, in effect, in the single port of Brest, so formidable a fleet,
that it would have sufficed alone to make a stand against the whole
British armament, and even to engage it with good hope of victory.
No less than twenty-six sail of the line were in that port in readiness
to put to sea. If this fleet should have made its junction with thaf.
of Spain, the allies would have acquired such a preponderance in
those seas, as to have rendered the re-victualing of Gibraltar an ex-
tremely difficult enterprise for the English. The Spaniards confi-
dently depended upon the co-operation of the French. But the lat-
ter had it too much at heart to prosecute their designs in the West
Indies, and upon the American continent, as likewise to re-establish
their affairs in the east, to be willing to direct all their efforts singly
towards an object which had no real and direct utility but for Spain
alone. Accordingly, the count de Grasse put to sea, the twenty-
second of March, from the port of Brest, shaping his course towards
the West Indies. M. de Suffren sailed in company with him, having
under his orders a squadron consisting 'of five ships of the line, seve-
ral frigates, and a strong body of land forces. He had instructions
to separate from the great fleet off Madeira, and to steer to the south,
towards the point of Africa ; to preserve the Cape of Good Hope,
and afterwards proceed to the East Indies. Thus all these naval
forces, charged by their respective governments with the most im-
portant operations, got under sail almost at the same time. Without
the delay which detained the English upon the coasts of Ireland, it
•s altogether probable that the French would have fallen in with
them, and that they would have settled, by a decisive battle in the
seas of Europe, that quarrel for which they were going to fight in
the two Indies.
Admiral Darby, sped by a favorable wind, stood for Cape St.
Vincent, which having made, he proceeded with the greatest circum-
spection, on account of the proximity of the Spanish armament.
BOOK XIV. THE AMERICAN WAR. 341
But don Lewis de Cordova, who for several days had been Bruising
in the bay of Cadiz, was no sooner apprised of the approacn of the
English, than he lost all confidence in his own force. Forgetting
the importance of the post he had to defend, instead of awaiting the
enemy, he returned with precipitation to Cadiz, leaving him the ways
free to Gibraltar.
Admiral Darby reconnoitered Cadiz, and finding the Spaniards
were in no disposition to come forth, he immediately pushed forward
his convoy, consisting of about a hundred sail, under the guard of a
certain number of ships of war. A part of this squadron was to
take post in the bay of Gibraltar itself, to cover the transports against
the attempts of the Spanish gunboats ; the rest was destined to cruise
at the entrance of the strait, towards the Mediterranean, in order to
oppose any hostile force that might present itself on that side. The
admiral himself remained before Cadiz to observe the motions of the
Spaniards with due diligence. The event justified his dispositions.
The gunboats, it is true, made frequent attacks upon the transports,
and that with the more audacity, as their inconsiderable size screened
them in a manner from the effects of the enemy's artillery. The
annoyance of this musquito fleet put the English out of all patience ;
but still it had no result of any importance. They succeeded in
getting ashore all their munitions of war, and all their provisions ;
their exultation equaled the consternation of the Spaniards ; all Eu-
rope was in astonishment. The king of Spain, who had set his heart
upon the conquest of Gibraltar, and who had already expended so
much treasure in the prosecution of this enterprise, persuaded him-
self that he was on the point of reaping the fruit of his efforts. —
When apprised of the event which still retarded the attainment of
his hopes, he flattered himself that his land troops would prove, per-
haps, more fortunate than his naval forces. His ardor was also
stimulated by an eager desire to wipe off the stain which he was
apprehensive would attach to his arms from the relief of Gibraltar.
The labors of the camp of St. Rock were resumed with increase of
activity ; the trenches and works which beset the fortress, were fur-
nished with an immense quantity of artillery. The batteries mount-
ed no less than one hundred and sixty pieces of heavy cannon, with
eighty mortars of the largest caliber. On the twelfth of April, the
British fleet being still at anchor in the port of Gibraltar, the whole 01
this train began to shower upon the place its tremendous volleys of bahs
and bombs. The narrow extent of the spot upon which they fell left
no other refuge to the besieged but the casemates and vaulted places.
General Elliot, the governor, did not remain a peaceable spectator
of this tempest ; he answered it bolt for bolt, thunder for thunder
^42 THE AMERICAN WAR. BOOK XIY.
The whole mountain, enveloped in flame and smoke from its base to
its summit, resembled a volcano in the height of the most terrible
eruption. The two neighboring shores of Europe and Africa were
lined with people, who had thronged thither to contemplate this dread-
lul spectacle. But the inhabitants of the unhappy town were more
exposed even than the soldiers themselves. Their terror was great,
but their dangers were still greater. The limbs of the dead and dying
were scattered upon the ground ; women, with children in their arms,
ran distractedly, imploring a shelter which could not be offered them.
Some were seen crushed at the same time with their precious
burthen, and torn in a thousand pieces by the bursting bombs.
Others, with trembling hands, let themselves down precipices, in
order to retire the farthest possible from the seat of danger ; many
threw themselves into the casemates, where, breathing an infected
air, and deprived of repose by the dismal cries of the wounded who
expired around them, they thought themselves happy in having
escaped an inevitable death. The town, situated upon the declivity of
the rock, and next the sea towards the west, was demolished to its
foundations. The Spanish gunboats contributed especially to this
disaster. Under cover of night, they slipped between the British
Vessels, and after having effected their purpose, profited of a wind,
which commonly springs up in the morning, to return to the port of
Algesiras. Their destructive fire often reached those unhappy per-
sons who had sought, upon the flank of the mountain, a refuge
against the artillery of the Spanish lines. It continued to batter
the place for upwards of three weeks, with hardly any intermis-
sion, and was answered with equal vigor. The firing was then
relaxed on both sides ; the besiegers became sensible that their efforts
resulted in little more than a vain noise, and the besieged thought it
imprudent to expend their ammunition without necessity. Scarcely
a few shot, discharged by intervals from the fortress, attested that
the garrison were upon the alert ; the greater part of the time, gene-
ral Elliot observed, in apparent tranquillity, the fruitless toils of his
enemy. It was calculated that in this short space of time, the Span-
iards consumed fifty tons of gunpowder ; they had fired seventy-
five thousand volleys of cannon balls, and twenty-five thousand of
bombs. Notwithstanding the narrowness of the place in which the
English were immured, they had lost but few men by the fire of this
immense; artillery ; their wounded did not exceed two hundred and
fifty. As to the inhabitants, seeing their houses destroyed, and in
continual dread of new disasters, they demanded permission to retire.
General Elliot acquiesced in their desires, after having furnished
them with all the assistance in his power. The greater part em-
BOOK XIV THE AMERICAN WAR. 343
barked in the fleet which had victualed the place, and repaired to
England.
Before it had arrived there, fortune, propitious to the French,
inflicted a heavy stroke upon their enemies ; which was considered
as a just chastisement for the robberies committed at St. Eu?tatius.
Intelligence had been received in France, that a numerous convoy
of ships laden with the rich spoils of that island, had left it about the
last of March, and were on their way for the ports of Great Britain.
It was also known, that this convoy was to be followed by another
noi less valuable, which was freighted with the produce of Jamaica.
The first was guarded by four ships of war under admiral Hotham.
The moment could not have been more favorable to the French,
since the great English fleet was employed in succoring Gibraltar
The court of Versailles knew very well how to profit of so fair an
occasion ; it had equipped with great celerity, in the port of Brest, a
squadron destined to intercept the expected convoys. The cheva-
lier de la Motte Piquet put to sea the fifteenth of April, at the head
of eight ships of the line, all excellent sailers. He struck into the
middle of tLe convoy of St. Eustatius, and dispersed it entirely.
Twenty-two ships fell into his power, two others were taken by pri-
vateers. Some few, with the ships of war that had escorted thern^
made their way good into the ports of Ireland. The British me?-
chants who had insured the captured ships, lost by this stroke
upwards of seven hundred thousand pounds sterling. Admiral Darby,
during his homeward passage, was very early informed of the disaster.
He instantly made his dispositions for cutting off the retreat of la
Motte Piquet.. But the French admiral, attentive to all the movements
of the enemy, and content with the brilliant advantages which he had
just obtained, left the convoy of Jamaica to pursue its voyage in
tranquillity, and returned without accident to Brest. So rich a cap-
ture created no little festivity in France.
Those who had projected this expedition, and those who had
executed it, were loaded with just praises. k The fleet of admiral
Darby recovered the ports of England. In the meantime, the two
fleets of Johnstone and Suffren had put to sea for the Cape of Good
Hope. These two admirals had the most exact information respect-
ing each other's departure, intended route, and ulterior destination.
But the Englishman was obliged to touch at the bay of Praya in St.
Jago, the most considerable of the Cape de Verd islands. He was
occupied in recruiting his water and provision for the long voyage
he was about to undertake, and a great part of his crews were on
shore. M. de Suffren was soon apprised of it, and immediately
shaped his course with press of sail for the bay of Praya, where he
344 THE AMERICAN WAR. BOOK XIV.
hoped to sui prise the enemy He kept so close along under a
tongue of land which covers the port towards the east, that he was
already on ihe point of entering it without being discovered. But
the British ship Isis, which lay near the mouth of the bay, perceived
beyond the eastern point the tops of several masts. Afterwards, by
the mode of maneuvering, it was known that they were French, and
the signal of enemy sails was given immediately. The commodore
recalled his crews from the shore, and made all his dispositions for
battle Meanwhile the French squadron doubled the point, and.
appeared all at once at the entrance of the bay. The attack com-
menced forthwith. The English had one ship of seventy-four guns,
four others of inferior force, three frigates, with several East India
Company ships, armed for war. The French had two ships of
seventy-four, and three of sixty-four guns. After having cannonaded
the Isis. which presented herself the first, they forced the entrance
of the harbor, passing into the midst of the British squadron, and
firing double broadsides, M. de Tremignon, with his ship the Hanni-
bal, which was ahead of the rest, advanced as far as possible, and
with admirable intrepidity cast anchor in the midst of the British
line, which assailed him from right and left. He was followed by
M. de Suffren, in the Hero, and afterwards the chevalier de Car-
daillac joined them with the Artesien. The two other ships could
not approach near enough to support them, and having fallen to
leeward after having discharged a few broadsides, they stood out to
sea. Two British ships, the Isis and the Romney, were unable to
take any considerable part in the action ; the first having suffered
severely from the fire of the French, at the time of their entrance
into the bay, the second finding herself advanced too far within it.
The engagement was therefore reduced to that of three ships of the
line on either side ; the French fired both starboard and larboard
guns, as they had placed themselves in the centre of the English.
But at length, the British frigates, with the armed ships of the India
Company, having rallied, ^ame up to the support of the commodore.
After the action had lasted an hour and a half, the Artesien, having
lost her captain, and being no longer able to sustain so fierce a fire,
cut her cables and drew off. M. de Suffren, finding himself de-
prived of his rear guard, ?»nd exposed to be cannonaded at once on
both sides as well as in front and rear, took a similar resolution to
withdraw from the harbor. The retreat of the Hero and Artesien
left the Hannibal alone to sustain the whole weight of the enemy's
fire, and of course she suffered excessively ; she lost first her mizxen-
mast, then her mainmast, and at last her rudder. Nevertheless,
by incredible exertions she made her way good to the mouth of the
BOOK XIV. ' .$fe THE AMERICAN WAR. 345
bay, where she was taken in tow by the ship Sphynx. Her masts
being refitted as well as it was possible, she rejoined the rest of the
squadron. The English would fain have followed the French, in
order to re-commence the engagement ; but the wind, the currents,
the approach of night, and the disabled state of the Isis, prevented
them from doing it. Such was the combat of Praya, which gave
occasion to several observations upon the conduct of the two admi-
rals. The British commander was censured for having anchored so
imprudently in an open and defenseless bay, when he must have
known that the enemy could not be far off. Vainly would he have
alledged, that he believed himself protected by the neutrality of the
place, the island of St. Jago belonging to the crown of Portugal; for
he affirmed himself, that when the French see an opportunity for
seizing their advantage, they are not wont to respect these neutrali-
ties ; an accusation which, though it were founded, appears not the
less extraordinary from the mouth of an Englishman. Commodore
Johnstone committed, besides, great errors, in landing so great a
part of his crews, in placing his weakest ships at the entrance of the
bay, and in letting the Hannibal escape notwithstanding her crippled
condition. M. de Suffren, it was said on the other hand, ought not
to have attempted to combat at anchor. Every probability assured
him a complete victory, if, instead of losing time in coming to anchor,
he had immediately resorted to boarding, or even if he had fought
under sail an enemy that was in a good degree surprised and unpre-
pared for action.
As soon as the British squadron was refitted, it put to sea in pur-
suit of the French ; but finding them drawn up in order of battle, it
avoided a second engagement ; night, which soon came on, separat-
ed the two squadrons. Commodore Johnstone returned to the bay
of Praya. M. de Suffren, continuing his voyage to the south, and
towing the Hannibal, repaired to Fake Bay at the Cape of Good
Hope. He was rejoined there by his convoy, which, during his
attack of Praya, he had left at sea, under the escort of the corvette
la Fortune. Thus was frustrated the design which the English had
meditated against the Cape. Constrained to relinquish all hope of
conquest, they directed their force against the commerce of their ene-
mies. Commodore Johnstone was advised by his light vessels, that
several ships of the Dutch East India Company, very richly laden,
lay at anchor in the bay of Saldana, not far from the Cape itself.
Upon making the coasts of Africa, acting himself as pilot to his
squadron in the midst of shoals and reefs, crowding all sail by night,
concealing himself by day, he maneuvered with such dexterity, that
he arrived unexpectedly before the bay. He captured five of the
346 THE AMERICAN WAR. BOOK XIV
most valuable ships ; the others were burnt. After having obtained
this advantage, which preserved him at least from the reproach of
having undertaken an expedition without utility, he detached a part
of his force to India, under general Meadows, and returned himself
with the Romney, his frigates, and rich prizes, to England. M. de
Suffren, having thrown a strong garrison into the Cape of Good Hope,
continued his voyage for the East Indies. Thus the war which
raged already in Europe, America, and Africa, was about to redouble
its violence upon the distant banks of the Ganges.
Meanwhile, Gibraltar continued to hold out ; to the furious attack
given that place, had succeeded an almost total calm. The gun-
boats, alone, profited of the obscurity of night, to keep the- gar-
rison in continual alarms. In order to restrain them, the governor
caused his advanced batteries to be armed with guns and mortar
pieces, peculiarly calculated to throw the^r shot to a great distance.
As they could now reach the camp of St. Roch, every time the gun-
boats made their attacks, the Spanish lines were assailed by the most
violent fire. Don Mendoza, having perceived that general Elliot did
thus by way of reprisal for the assaults of the gunboats, ordered the
commanders of the flotilla to desist from all further insult against the1
place, and to keep their station quietly in the port of Algesiras. He
enjoined them, however, to exert the greatest vigilance to prevent
the entrance of supplies into the place. The Spaniards were inde-
fatigable in pushing forward their trenches. They had now brought
them quite to the foot of the rock, so that the circumvallation extend-
ed from right to left across the whole breadth of the isthmus by
which the rock itself connects with the main land. They tiad exca-
vated upon their left the mine of communication between their outer
circumvallation and the parallels. General Elliot, full of security
upon the summit of the rock he defended, unwilling to lavish his
ammunition, without utility, had not disturbed the workmen. But
when he saw that their works were completed, he resolved to de-
sti oy them by the most unexpected and vigorous sally. The twenty-
seventh of November, towards midnight, he issued from the place at
the head of three brigades of infantry, commanded by general Ross.
These troops were followed by a great number of pioneers, miners,
and engineers. The sally was conducted with suitable order and
silence. The English appeared all of a sudden before the advanced
guards, and routed them in a few instants ; they found themselves
masters of tne first parallel, and proceeded to destroy it. The engi-
neers, furnished with combustible materials, set fire to every thing
that was capable of receiving it. The carriages of the cannon were
rendered unserviceable, and the pieces, including the mortars, were
BOOK XIV THE AMERICAN WAR. 347
spiked with admirable promptitude. The workmen tore up the plat-
forms and traverses, and leveled the breastworks with the ground,
All the magazines were successively consigned to the flames. A sin-
gle half hour witnessed the destruction of those works which had been
erected at so vast an expense of toil and treasure. The Spaniards,
whether from the stupor of consternation, or supposing the enemy to
be much stronger than he was in reality, were afraid to go out of
their camp to repulse him. They contented themselves with keep-
ing up an incessant, though harmless fire, with balls and grape-shot.
The English, after having accomplished their purpose, returned
sound and safe into the fortress.
In the meantime, a project was conceived in Europe, the execution
of which could not fail to give a severe shock to the British power in
the Mediterranean. The Spaniards remained very ill satisfied with
France ; they believed themselves authorized to reproach her with
having hitherto consulted exclusively her own interests, to the prej-
udice of her allies. They complained with peculiar bitterness, that
she had in no shape promoted the expeditions of Jamaica and Gib-
raltar, as if she were loth to see the prosperity of the Spanisli arms
in the seas of America and upon the European continent. The
revictualing of Gibraltar, on the part of the English, by dint of force,
without a single movement of any sort being made by the French
to prevent it, and the despair experienced by the Spaniards at having
consumed themselves in vain efforts for the reduction of that place,
had prodigiously increased their ill humor, and caused it to degene-
rate into an open discontent. The Spanish people murmured in bold
language ; the court was become the object of the most vehement
animadversion. It was accused of having undertaken this expedition
merely in subservience to the ambitious views of France, and not at
all for the interests of the Spanish nation ; the Spaniards called it
a court war, a family war. Stimulated by the vivacity of these com-
pliunts,and reflecting,moreover,that the reduction, in whatever mode,
of the British power, was the augmentation of her own, France took
the resolution to give into some enterprise whose immediate fruit
should be gathered by Spain. An expedition against Jamaica neces-
sarily involving long delays, and a fresh attack upon Gibraltar prom-
ising no better than dubious results, it was determined to attempt
an operation, the success of which appeared the more probable, as
the English were far from expecting it; and that was, the conquest
of the island of Minorca. If France had motives for wishing it with
eagerness, it must have been still more desirable for the Spaniards.
Minorca is so favorably situated for cruising, that it was become the
habitual resort of an immense number of privateers. Their audacity
348 THE AMERICAN WAR.
BOOK XIV.
was not confined to infesting the seas, and disturbing the navigation
and commerce of the Spaniards and French ; they even intercepted
neutral vessels employed in trafficking with these two nations ; this
island also served as a place of arms for the English. They deposited
in it the munitions of war and provisions, which they drew from the
neighboring coasts of Africa, whether for the use of their shipping or
for the consumption of Gibraltar. The facility of the enterprise was
another persuasive invitation to attempt it. In effect, however im-
posing was fort St. Philip, from its position and works, the garrison
which guarded it was far from corresponding to the strength and
importance of the place ; it consisted of only four regiments, two of
them British and two Hanoverians, who altogether did not exceed
two thousand men. Notwithstanding the salubrity of the air, and the
abundance of fresh provisions, these troops were infected with the
scurvy. They were commanded by the generals Murray and Draper.
In pursuance of the plan concerted between the courts of Versailles
and Madrid, the count de Guichen departed from Brest, towards
the last of June, with eighteen sail of the line, and repaired to the
port of Cadiz, in order to join the Spanish fleet which awaited him
there. He had under him two general officers of great reputation,
M. de la Motte Piquet, and M. de Beausset. The Spanish fleet,
commanded by don Lewis de Cordova, and by the two vice-admi-
rals, don Gaston and don Vincent Droz, was composed of thirty
ships of flie line. A corps of ten thousand selected troops was
embarked without any delay on board of this armament. It set sail
the twenty-second of July, and after having been much thwarted by
the winds, appeared in sight of Minorca the twentieth of August.
The debarkation was effected in Musquito Bay. The whole island
was occupied without obstacle, including the city of Mahon, its
capital. The garrison, too feeble to defend all these posts, had
evacuated them and thrown itself into fort St. Philip. A little
after, four French regiments arrived from Toulon, under the conduct
of the baron de Falkenhayn. The two courts had confided the
general comman'd of all the forces employed upon this expedition to
the duke de Crillon, distinguished as well for his military knowledge,
as for his courage and thirst of glory. He had entered into the
service of Spam, and, as a Frenchman of illustrious birth, he was
thought the most suitable personage to head the common enterprise.
But the siege of fort St. Philip presented difficulties of no ordi-
nary magnitude. The works are cut in the solid rock, and mined in
all their parts. The glacis, and covered way, likewise cut in the
rock, are mined, countermined, palisaded, and furnished with batteries
which defend their approaches. Around the fosse, which is twenty
BOOK XIV. THE AMERICAN WAR 349
feet in depth, runs a covered and looped gallery, which affords a
secure shelter to the garrison. Subterraneous communications are
excavated between the outer works and the body of the place. In
the latter, which forms a sort of labyrinth, are sunk deep wells with
drawn covers, and barbacans pierce the walls in all directions. The
castle itself, also surrounded by a countermined covered way, is
defended not only by counterscarps and half moons, but also by a
wall sixty feet high, and a fosse thirty-six feet deep. Finally, the
nucleus, which is a square tower flanked by four bastions, presents
walls eighty feet high, and a ditch forty feet deep, and cut in the
rock. This ditch has also its corridor and lodges. In the center of
all is an esplanade for marshaling the garrison. Around it are con-
structed the soldiers' barracks, and magazines for the munitions, both
bomb proof, and all wrought in the hard rock. To add to their safety,
the English had totally rased the neighboring city of St. Philip.
The allies approached the citadel with circumspection ; its lofty
position overlooking all the adjacent country, it was not by scooping
trenches, but by transporting and heaping earth, that they formed
their parallels. They raised a wall of about two hundred feet in
length, five in height, and six in thickness. This laborious construc-
tion was finished, without the besiegers having experienced any loss,
as Murray did not attempt a single sally, whether in consequence of
the weakness of the garrison, or from excess of confidence in the
strength of the place. He contented himself with keeping up a fire
of cannon and mortars, which produced no effect. The parallels
being completed, the duke de Crillon unmasked his batteries, and
fulminated the fortress with one hundred and eleven twenty-four
pounders, and thirty-three mortar pieces opening thirteen inches of
diameter.
During the siege of fort St. Philip, the combined fleets of France
and Spain, amounting to near fifty sail of the line, under the count
de Guichen, bent their course towards the coasts of England. The
intention of the French admiral was to throw himself in the way
of the British fleet, and to attack it. The great inferiority of the
British rendered their defeat almost inevitable. The count de Gui-
chen also designed, by this movement, to prevent the enemy from
passing succors from England to Minorca. He even hoped to cut
off and capture the convoys that were then on their passage from the
two Indies, bound for the ports of Great Britain. His views were
likewise directed upon another convoy, which was assembled at the
port of Cork, in Ireland, in order to watch its opportunity to make
sail for the East and West Indies. Perhaps the French admiral was
not without hopes that the sudden appearance of so formidable an
350 THE AMERICAN WAR. BOOK XIV.
armament upon the coasts of the British islands, might afford him an
occasion to reach them with a stroke of the last importance. He
hastened therefore to occupy the entrance of the channel in all its
breadth, by extending his line from the isle of Ushant to those of
Scilly. Admiral Darby was then at sea with twenty-one ships of the
line, and on the way to meet his convoy. He had the good fortune
to fall in with a neutral vessel, which apprised him of the approach
of the combined squadrons. But for this intelligence, he must inevi-
tably have fallen headlong into the midst of forces so superior to his
own, that he could hardly have retained the smallest hope of safety.
He instantly retired with all sails upon Torbay. He was there soon
re-inforced by several ships of the first rank, which carried his fleet
to thirty sail of the line. He disposed his order of battle in the form
of a crescent within the bay itself, although it is open, and little sus-
ceptible of defense. These dispositions, however, appeared to him
sufficient to repulse the enemy, in case they should present them-
selves. But the peril was really extreme ; they menaced at once the
fleet and the maritime cities. None was more exposed than Cork,
an unfortified place, and containing immense magazines of every
denomination. All England was thrown into a state of the most
anxious alarm. The allied armament at length appeared in sight of
Torbay. The count de Guichen immediately held a council of war,
to deliberate upon the course to be pursued in the present conjunc-
ture. His own opinion was in favor of attacking the British fleet in
the position it now occupied. Healledged , that it might be considered
as if caught in a net, and that a more auspicious occasion could never
present itself for wresting from Great Britain the dominion of the sea.
He represented what disgrace, what eternal regrets, would be incur-
red by allowing it to escape them. He maintained that the enemy,
cramped in his movement within a bay, from which there was no
outlet, must inevitably become the prey of the innumerable fire-ships
with which the combined fleets might support their attack. Finally,
he declared that the honor of the arms of the two allied sovereigns
was staked upon the issueof this expedition. Don Vincent Droz not
only concurred in the opinion of the admiral, but even offered to lead
the attempt at the head of the vanguard. But M. de Beausset, the
second in command, a seaman of high reputation, manifested a con-
trary opinion. He contended that the situation of the English squad-
ion would enable it to fight them at their great disadvantage ; they
could not attack it in a body, but must form their line ahead, and
fall down singly upon the enemy. This would expose every ship to
the collected fire of the whole British fleet, lying fast at anchor, and
drawn up in such a manner as to point all its guns at any object within
**.
BOOK XIV. THE AMERICAN WAR. 351
its reach. He concluded with observing, that since an attack under
such circumstances could by no means be justified, it became expe-
dient to bend their attention exclusively upon an expedition, which,
though less brilliant, was certainly of great moment, the capture of
the West India convoy, probably at that instant not very far from the
shores of Europe. Don Lewis de Cordova, and all the other Spanish
officers, with the exception of don Vincent Droz, adopted the senti-
ment of M. de Beausset. The project of attacking the British fleet
was therefore rejected by a majority of votes. But if the allies would
not. or knew not how to profit of the occasion which fortune had
provided them, she seemed to take her revenge in baffling the designs
to which they had given the preference. Contagious maladies began
to rage on board their fleet, and especially on board the Spanish ships
The weather became shortly after so tempestuous, that the two admi-
rals were obliged to think of their safety. The count de Guichen
returned to Brest, and don Lewis de Cordova to Cadiz. The Brit-
ish convoys reached their ports without obstacles. Thus this second
appearance of the allies upon the coasts of England proved as vain
as the first. Its only fruit was that of having impeded the succors
destined for Minorca. But if this campaign between France, Spain
and England passed, in the seas of Europe, without any great effu-
sion of blood, and almost entirely in demonstrations of little avail, it
was at least remarkable for the reciprocal animosity manifested be-
tween the English and Dutch. It brought to mind those fierce and
sanguinary battles which had procured so much celebrity for these
two nations in the seventeenth century. The Dutch carried on a
very lucrative commerce with the produce of their colonies in the
Baltic sea. Having become, as it were, the general factors of the
nations of the north and of the south of Europe, their gains were
immense. They were drawn, besides, towards the countries of the
north, by the necessity of procuring, from that part all the articles
employed in the construction of shipping. This intercourse was
become still more essential to them since their rupture with Great
Britain, in order to be able to put their navy in a condition to defend
the possessions and commerce of the republic, and to maintain the
honor of its flag. Their arsenals, however, were far from being
supplied with all the stores and materials requisite to the present
emergency. The English perceived of what importance it was for
them to impede the supplies of their enemies. With this intent, so
early as the month of June, they had put to sea four ships of the
line and one of f/tv guns, under the command of admiral Hyde
Parker, r. very expert seaman, and father of him who served at that
time upon the coasts of America. His instructions were, to scour
352 THE AMERICAN WAR. BOOK XIV.
Iho northerji seas, and do all the harm possible to the Dutch trade,
and, at his return, to take under his protection a rich convoy which
was assembled in the port of Elsineur.
Admiral Hyde Parker accomplished his mission with diligence ;
and already, being returned from the Baltic, he was conducting the
convoy through the German ocean on his way home. Since his
departure from Portsmouth, he had been joined by other ships,
among which one of seventy-four guns, called the Berwick, one of
forty-four, named the Dolphin, and several smaller vessels; so that
his squadron was composed of six sail of the line, exclusive of the
rest. The Dutch, during this time, had not neglected their prepara-
tives. They had succeeded in fitting out a squadron of seven ships
of the line, with several frigates or corvettes. They had given the
command of it to admiral Zoutman. He set sail, towards the mid-
dle of July, with a convoy of merchantmen, which he purposed to
escort into the Baltic. The Dutch squadron was joined soon after
by a stout American frigate called the Charlestown ; and, on the fifth
of August, it fell in with admiral Hyde Parker upon the Dogger
Bank. The British squadron was to windward ; at sight of the im-
posing force of the enemy, it sent its convoy homeward, under the
guard of frigates, and bore down upon the Dutch. The latter, as
soon as they discovered the English, likewise dispatched their con-
voy towards their own ports, and prepared themselves for battle.
They appeared to desire it with no less ardor than their adversaries.
The English formed their line with seven ships, of which one of
eighty guns, but old and in bad condition, two of seventy-four,
excellent, one of sixty-four, one of sixty, one of fifty, and lastly, a
frigate of forty-four. The line of the Dutch was formed in like
manner with seven ships, one of seventy-six, two of sixty-eight, three
of fifty-four, and one frigate of forty-four. The light vessels kept
themselves aside of the line,- ready to carry succor wherever it
might be required. The English came down upon the Dutch with
full sails, and before the wind ; the latter awaited them, firm at
their posts. A profound silence, the ordinary sign of pertinacious
resolution, reigned on board of both squadrons. No other sound
was heard but that of the creaking of pulleys, the whistling of the
wind, and the dashing of waves. The soldiers were formed upon
the deck, the cannoniers stood by their pieces, awaiting the signal to
commence the fire. It was not given until the squadrons were within
half musket shot distance of each other. The two admiral ships,
namely, the Fortitude, which carried Parker, and the admiral de
Ruyter, mounting Zoutman, attacked each other close alongside
with extreme impetuosity. The other ships imitated them, and soon
BOOK XIV. THE AMERICAN WAR 353
the action became general. The Dutch had the superiority in
weight of metal, and in the aid of frigates, particularly in that of the
Charlestown. The rapidity of their evolutions enabled them to act
against the whole line, assailing the ships of the enemy in flank.
The English, on the other hand, were advantaged by the agility of
maneuvers and a better supported fire. During near four hours,
the action was kept up with an equal spirit, and a balanced success.
The Dutch stood firm upon every point of their line, and the English
redoubled efforts to carry a victory which they deemed it beneath
them to relinquish. But the rage of men was constrained to yield to
the force of elements. The ships, on the one part as well as on the
other, were so terribly shattered that they were no longer manage-
able. They floated upon the water, like wrecks, at the discretion of
the wind, and their relative distance became at length so great, that
it was impossible to renew the engagement. The English received
incalculable damage in their masts and rigging.
' After some hasty repairs, Hyde Parker endeavored to re-form his
line, in order to recommence the battle, provided Zoutman did not
decline it. He attempted to follow him, on seeing him stand for the
Texel. But all his efforts were vain. The Dutch ships, however,
were in no better condition. During the passage they had now
before them, their masts fell one after another ; the leaks were so
considerable, that the work of pumps became fruitless. All the
captains successively made their admiral signals of distress. The
Holland, of sixty-eight guns, went to the bottom, within thirty leagues-
of the Texel ; the crew had but just time to save themselves, leav-
ing, in their precipitation, the unhappy wounded to a certain death.
The frigates were obliged to take the other ships in tow to enable
them to gain the port.
The loss of the English in killed and wounded amounted to four
hundred and fifty, among whom were several distinguished officers.
In the number of the slain was captain Macartney, who commanded
the Princess Amelia, of eighty guns. The valor he signalized in the
combat honored his last moments ; but it was still less astonishing
than the intrepidity of his young son. This child, yet bu-t seven
years old, remained constantly at the side of his father in the very
height of the action ; the unfortunate but heroic witness of the stroke
which snatched him from his fond affection. Lord Sandwich, first
lord of the admiralty, knowing that captain Macartney had left a nu-
merous family, and little fortune, adopted this courageous infant. In
England, unanimous praises were lavished upon all those who had
combated at the Dogger Bank. King George himself, as soon as he
knew that admiral Hyde Parker was arrived at the Nore, went to
VOL. u. 23
354 THE AMERICAN WAR BOOK XIV.
pay him a visit DH board of his ship, and expressed to him, as well
as to all bis officers, the high sense he entertained of their valiant
conduct in this bloody rencounter. But the old seaman, irritated
against the board of admiralty, who, in giving him so inadequate a
force, had frustrated him of an occasion for signalizing himself by a
great victory, told the king, with the blunt freedom of his profession,
that he wished him younger officers and better ships ; that for his
own part, he was become too old to serve any longer. In defiance
of the solicititions of the sovereign, of the courtiers, and of the
ministers, he persisted in his resolution, and immediately tendered
his resignation.
The government and public were no less forward, in Holland, to
acknowledge the services of the officers and men who, in the action
of the fifth of August, had sustained the ancient renown of the flag
of the United Provinces. The stadtholder, in the name of the States-
General, addressed public thanks to rear-admiral Zoutman, apprising
him, at the same time, of his promotion to the rank of vice-admiral.
The captains Dedel, Van Braam, and Kindsburghen, wepe created
rear-admirals. The same honor, and particular regrets, were con-
ferred upon the count de Bentinck, who was put ashore mortally
wounded. He had displayed equal skill and gallantry in the com-
mand of the Batavia. The loss of the Dutch in killed and wounded
was greater than that of the English. Such was the issue of the
naval battle of Dogger Bank, the best conducted, and the best
fought of all this war. It would be impossible to decide who came
off with the advantage ; but it is certain that the Dutch, having been
constrained to regain their ports for the purpose of refitting, found
themselves under the necessity of abandoning their design, which had
been to repair to the Baltic. This disappointment, however, did not
prevent the nation from cherishing new hopes ; the glorious recollec-
tion of past times revived in every breast.
As soon as the count de Guichen had re-entered the port of Brest,
the French government began to frame new designs. It was not
ignorant that the count de Grasse, who commanded the West India
fleet, must soon stand in need of supplies and re-inforcements, both
of ships and troops. Naval stores are extremely scarce in that
quarter, and the nature of the climate and of the waters is singularly
prejudicial to ships, which get out of condition there with an incredible
rapidity. The forces which had been sent thither in this and the
preceding campaign, might appear sufficient to execute the plans
which had been formed in favor of the United States, and against the
more feeble of the British islands. But in order to attempt the
expedition of Jamaica, to which Spain was continually stimulating
BOOK XIV. THE AMERICAN WAR. 355
her ally, it was requisite to have recourse to more formidable arma-
ments, as well by land as by sea. The court of Versailles was also
aware that the state of affairs in the East Indies required that fresh
forces should be sent thither, and moreover that the want of arms
and munitions of war began to be felt with urgency. Orders were
therefore given for the immediate equipment, at Brest, of a convoy
laden with all the necessary articles. Re-inforcements of troops
were prepared for embarkation, and the armament was pushed with
extraordinary activity. As soon as it was in readiness, the count de
Guichen put to sea at the head of the great fleet, and the marquis de
Vaudreuil with a particular squadron. The convoys destined for the
two Indies sailed under their protection. After having escoited
them till they were out of danger from the fleets upon the watch in
the ports of England, the count de Guichen was to stand to the south,
in order to join the Spanish squadron in the port of Cadiz. The
object of their combined action was to intercept the succors which
the English might attempt to send to Minorca. As to the marquis
de Vaud^uil, his destination was to conduct the re-inforcements of
troop§J;o the West Indies, and to unite with the count de Grasse,
who was making dispositions in concert with the Spaniards for the
attack of Jamaica.
For a long time there had not issued from the ports of France
convoys so numerous and so richly laden with stores of every denom-
ination. The news of these immense preparations soon found its
way to England ; but, strange as it must seem, the ministers were not
informed of the force of the formidable squadrons that were to escort
the transports. They consequently directed admiral Kempenfeldt
to put to sea, with twelve ships of the line, one of fifty guns, and four
frigates, in order to cut off the French convoys. But the count de
Guichen had nineteen sail of the line ; and Kempenfeldt, instead of
taking, ran great risk of being taken.
In defiance of all probabilities, chance did that which human pru-
dence could not have brought to pass. The twelfth of December,
the weather being stormy, and the sea rough, the British admiral fell
in with a French convoy. He had the good fortune to be to windward
of the fleet of escort, which for that reason could not act. The
Englishman profited with great dexterity of so favorable an occasion :
he captured twenty vessels, sunk several, and dispersed the rest.
He would have taken more of them if the weather had been less
thick, the sea more tranquil, and the number of his frigates greater.
Night came on ; the two admirals had rallied their ships. Kempen-
feldt sailed in company during the whole night, with intent to engage
the enemy at break of day. He knew not, however, what was his
356 THE AMERICAN WAR BOOK XIV.
force. When the morning came, he discovered it to leeward, and
finding it so superior to his own, he changed his plan. Not willing
to lose by imprudence what he had acquired by ability, or a benign
glance of fortune, he made the best of his way towards the ports of
England, where he arrived in safety with all his prizes. The num-
ber of his prisoners amounted to eleven hundred regular troops, and
six or seven hundred seamen. The transports were laden with a
considerable quantity of artillery, arms, and military stores. The
provisions, such as wine, oil, brandy, flour, biscuit, salt meats, &c.
were not in less abundance. But this loss was still but the com-
mencement of the disasters of the French fleet. It was assailed, the
following day, by a furious tempest accompanied with continual thun-
der and lightning, and a most impetuous wind from the southwest
The greater part of the ships were obliged to recover the port of
Brest, in the most deplorable condition. Only two ships of the line,
the Triumphant and the Brave, with five or six transports, were able
to continue their voyage. This event had the most afflicting conse-
quences for France ; she had not only to regret armaments and mu-
nitions of immense value, but also the precious time consumed in the
reparation of the ships of war. Six whole weeks elapsed before it
was possible for them to make sail anew for the West Indies. This
delay, as we shall see, was extremely prejudicial to the French arms
in that part.
While the war was thus prosecuted in Europe with varied success,
the count de Grasse sailed prosperously towards Martinico. To
accelerate his voyage, he had caused his ships of war to tow the
transports. Such was his diligence that he appeared in sight of that
island with an hundred and fifty sail, thirty days only after his depar-
ture from Brest. Admiral Rodney was promptly informed of the
approach of the French admiral. He saw very clearly the impor-
tance of preventing the junction of this new fleet with the squadrons
already existing in the ports of Martinico and of St. Domingo. The
count de Grasse brought with him twenty ships of the line, with one
of fifty guns, and seven or eight others awaited him in the ports
above mentioned. Rodney had only twenty-one ships of the line.
It is true, that Hyde Parker had four others at Jamaica. But besides
their being thought necessary to the defense of the island, they were
to leeward of the principal fleet, and consequently it would have
been next to impracticable for them to join it. Under these consid-
erations Rodney sent the two admirals Hood and Drake with seven-
teen ships to cruise before the entrance of Fort Royal harbor, in
Martinico whither he knew the count de Grasse had bent the course
of his voyage.
BOOK XIV THE AMERICAN WAR. 357
It is quite difficult to explain the motives which induced the British
admiral to establish this cruise under Fort Royal ; his fleet was there
liable to fall to leeward, and thus to be compelled to leave between
itself and the land a free passage for the French fleet into the port.
A station more to windward, off the point of Salines, seemed proper
to obviate these inconveniences. It was written, that Hood, who
was a man of great skill in naval affairs, had made remonstrances on
the subject of these dispositions ; but that Rodney, whose character
was headstrong, lud dismissed him with an order to obey punctually.
The event soon demonstrated that the station of the point of Salines
would have been more suitable than that of Fort Royal. The twenty-
eighth of April, at evening, the count de Grasse appeared off that
point, with a most magnificent display of force. Admiral Hood was
immediately apprised by his frigates of the appearance of the French.
He instantly formed his line of battle, and bore down upon the ene-
my. His intention was to press to windward, in order afterwards
to approach so near the coasts of Martinico as to prevent the French
from passing between his ships and the land. Night came on during
this maneuver. At daybreak the English discovered the fleet of
the count de Grasse, standing along tiie coast in the best order. His
convoy of transports defiled behind the line of battle which he pre-
sented to the enemy. All his efforts were exerted to double the
Diamond Rock, which once past, nothing could prevent his entrance
into the port. The English, being to leeward, were not able to pre-
vent the four ships of the line, with that of fifty guns, in Fort Royal
harbor, from corning out to join the great fleet. This junction carried
the forces of the count de Grasse to twenty-six sail of the line ; and
gave him a decided superiority over Hood, although that admiral was
joined, at the same time, by a ship of seventy-four guns, which came
from St. Lucia. The English, however, persuading themselves that
a part of the French ships were merely armed in flute, took confi-
dence, and again bore down u.pon their adversaries. The French
admiral, mindful to save his convoy, and reposing on his force, neither
sought nor shunned an engagement. As soon as the English were
within long shot of the French, the fire commenced on both sides.
It was supported thus, at a great distance, for about three hours, with
heavy damage to the first, and very little to the second. During the
act-ion the convoy entered the bay of Fort Royal. Disengaged from
this care, the French advanced in older to engage the enemy in close
fight. The English, on the contrary, began to retire, but in good
order. Their ships, being coppered, had such a superiority in point
of sailing, that it became impossible for the count de Grasse to come
up with them. Besides, the French rear guard not having crowded
358 THE AMERICAN WAR. BOOK XIV.
aL sail, there had resulted such an opening between it and the
remainder of the fleet, that admiral Hood was near profiting of it to
cut the line. The count de Grasse perceived it in time, and filled
up so dangerous a void. He continued to pursue the English for
two days, and afterwards came to anchor in Fort Royal. Admiral
Hood had gained Antigua ; his ships, the Centaur, the Russell, the
Torbay and the Intrepid, were excessively damaged in this engage-
ment. Admiral Rodney was still at St. Eustatius, much occupied
with the sale of the immense booty he had made, when he learned
that the count de Grasse, after having obtained an advantage over
sir Samuel Hood, was safely moored at Fort Royal. He perceived
that it was time to think of something besides his mercantile interests,
and that the exertion of all his force was required of him if he wished
to maintain himself in the West Indies. He accordingly directed
the promptest dispositions, and hastened with three ships and a body
of troops to rejoin admiral Hood at Antigua. His plan was, to put
to sea again immediately, in order to oppose the designs of the
•nemy, who, not content with his first successes, appeared to medi-
tate others, and more considerable. The French, in eflect, lost no
time ; they were disposed to profit of the advantages which they had
now secured themselves.
After having attempted, though without effect, to surprise St.
Lucia, they proceeded with all expedition to attack the \sland of
Tobago. M. de Blanchelande debarked the first, at the head of
sixteen hundred men. He seized Scarborough and the foil which
defended it; general Ferguson, the governor, had little o\er four
hundred regular troops ; but they were supported by a great num-
ber of militia, well trained, and much attached to England. These
sentiments were common to all the inhabitants of Tobago. The
governor, finding himself too weak to defend the coasts, with Irew
into the interior of the island, to a post called Concordia. From
this lofty situation, the sea is discovered on the right and on the 1 ft ;
an important advantage for being promptly apprised of the approach
of succors. The marquis de Bouille disembarked soon after, w,th
a re-inforcement of three thousand men. He made his junction
with M. de Blanchelande under the walls of Concordia, which was
then closely invested. At the same time, the count de Grasse
appeared in sight of the island with twenty-four ships of the line, to
prevent its being relieved. Governor Ferguson, as soon as he found
himseli attacked, had dispatched a swift-sailing vessel to Rodney
with the intelligence, and a request for prompt assistance. Rodn°y
*ati already passed . from Antigua to Barbadoes. Whether he be-
lieved the assailants more feeble, and the besieged more strong, than
BOOK XIV. THE AMERICAN WAR. 359
they really were, or that he was not apprised of the sailing of the
French admiral with all his fleet for Tobago, instead of repairing
with all his own to the relief of that island, he contented himself with
sending admiral Drake thither with six sail of the line, some frigates,
and a body of about six hundred troops. Drake approached Toba-
go ; but seeing the enemy in such force, he relinquished the enterprise,
and hastened to regain Barbadoes. The count de Grasse pursued
him, but could not prevent his reaching that island in safety, and
advjsing admiral Rodney of the critical state of affairs. Meanwhile,
the governor of Tobago was hard pressed. The French having
taken possession of different heights which overlooked Concordia,
he determined to retreat to a post on the Main Ridge, where a few
huts had been built, and some provisions and ammunition previously
lodged for the purpose. The garrison was already arrived at Cale-
donia, and thus occupied the road or path which leads to the post
which they had in view. This road is so narrow and difficult that a
few men might defend it against a whole army. The marquis de
Bouille had reflected, that time and the nature of his enterprise did
not admit of the lingering process of a regular siege. It was evident,
however, that if the British governor should entrench himself in those
inaccessible positions, the reduction of the island would acquile a
series of operations as protracted as perilous. It would moreover
prove an obstacle to the execution of ulterior designs. Finally, it
was to be presumed that Rodney could not long delay to appear.
Under these considerations, the marquis de Bouille thought proper
to resort to more expeditious means than are usually employed in
war. Departing from the accustomed lenity of his character, per-
haps through irritation at the obstinacy of the islanders, and perhaps,
also, from resentment for the late transactions at St. Eustatius, he
sent to apprise the governor that he should begin with burning two
habitations and two sugar plantations. His menaces were immedi-
ately accomplished. They were followed by that of consigning
twice as many to the same fate, at the commencement of every four
hours, until the island was laid waste or that a surrender should be
made.
The inhabitants, convinced that perseverance was total ruin, were
in no disposition to wait the slow approach of succors which the
precipitate retreat of Drake rendered hourly more uncertain. They
began to murmur ; and very soon, to negotiate for conditions with
the French general. Governor Ferguson at length perceived the
impossibility of controlling events. He observed a manifest dis-
couragement in his regular troops themselves, and felt that Hie
moment of capitulation was come. He obtained honorable terms,
360 THE AMERICAN WAR. BOOK XIV.
and similar to those which the marquis de Bouille, naturally gene-
rous towards his vanquished enemies, had granted to the inhabitants
of Dominica. These transactions took place in the early part of
June. Admiral Rodney appeared shortly after in view of the island
with all his armament. But, on intelligence of its surrender, and at
sight of the imposing force of the count de Grasse, he avoided an
engagement, and returned to Barbadoes. In this manner, the
French, availing themselves with equal sagacity and promptitude of
their naval superiority in the West Indies, both galled their enemies
at sea, and deprived them of a rich and well fortified island.
These operations, however, were still but a part of the plan
formed by the French government, and committed to the care of the
count de Grasse. The instructions of that admiral enjoined him,
after having attempted all those enterprises which the season should
admit of in the West Indies, to repair with all his force to the coasts
of America, and there to co-operate with the French troops and those
of congress, to the entire extirpation of the British power in those
regions. Washington and Rochambeau awaited his arrival, in order
to commence the work. Already, by means of swift-sailing vessels,
they had concerted the plan of their combined action, after their
junction should have taken place. It was hoped by the republicans,
that besides his fleet, the French admiral would furnish five or six
thousand land troops, munitions of war and provisions, and especially
money, of which the Americans, and the French themselves, expe-
rienced the greatest penury. Finally, they pressed him to show
himself promptly, as well to support their efforts as to prevent the
arrival of British re-inforcements. The count de Grasse was per-
sonally stimulated by these important considerations. His imagina-
tion offered him a vivid perspective of the glory to be acquired by
achieving what the count d'Estaing had attempted in vain, namely,
the finishing of the American war by a decisive stroke. He accord-
ingly made sail from Martinico for Cape Francois, in the island of
St. Domingo. He was constrained to tarry there some time, to take
on board the troops and military stores destined for the continent.
But he exerted himself in vain to procure the needed funds. He
was joined, in that anchorage, by five ships of the line. All his prep-
arations being completed, he sailed the fifth of August, and com-
menced with escorting his numerous convoy till out of danger.
Afterwards, having touched at the Havanna for money, which the
Spaniards readily furnished him, he directed his course with a favor
able wind for the Chesapeake. His fleet, composed of twenty-eight
sail of the line and several frigates, carried three thousand regular
troops, with every kind of succor ; and might be considered as the
BOOK XIV THE AMERICAN WAR.
great hinge upon wmcn the fortune of the war, at least in America,
was to turn.
On the other hand, admiral Rodney, who followed with an atten-
tive eye the movements of the count de Grasse, saw the importance
of taking a" decisive resolution. He instantly detached admiral
Hood to the coast of America with fourteen sail of the line to join
admiral Graves, and counteract the designs of the enemy. Being
nimself in feeble health, he set sail for England with some ships
m\ph out of condition, and a large convoy. Rodney was censured
with extreme asperity for the counsels taken by him about that time ;
and some even made him responsible for the sinister events which
ensued shortly after. His adversaries contended, that if he had
sailed with all his force, and without delay, in quest of the French
admiral, had touched at Jamaica, in order to make his junction with
the squadron of Hyde Parker, and then had proceeded to the coasts
of North America, the count de Grasse would at least have found
himself compelled to relinquish his projects, if not exposed to a
defeat. ' Instead of adopting this measure,' said they, ' the only one
that suited the occasion, Rodney, by returning to England with a part
of the heaviest ships of his fleet, has reduced it to an alarming state
of weakness, and abandoned the field of battle to the enemy. fc.
' It is a capital error thus to have divided the armament into several
little squadrons, as leaving some ships at the leeward islands, where
the French have not left one, and detaching three others to Jamaica,
which nobody thought of attacking, and, finally, sending sir Samuel
Hood with an unequal and insufficient force to America. Is it possi-
ble to be too much astonished that our admiral has chosen to fritter
away his force into small parts, at the very moment when the French
assembled all theirs upon a single point ? The world may see what
are the effects of this fatal resolution ; it has already cost but too
many of England's tears.' Rodney nevertheless found defenders.
' The admiral's return to Europe,' they answered, « was rather con-
strained by the state of his health, than decided by his choice. The
ships he has brought with him are in such a worn out state, that they
could not have been repaired in the West Indies. The French
admiral having under hw protection a rich and numerous convoy, it
was fairly to be presumed that he would not have left it to pursue its
homeward voyage without a respectable escort. It was even to be
supposed that he would have sent the greater part of his fleet along
with the merchantmen to France, and that he would only have
retained those ships which were in condition to undergo the Ameri-
can service. But independent of' that circumstance, the force sent
to America under sir Samuel Hood, when combined with that of
362 THE AMERICAN WAR. BOOK XIT.
admiral Graves, would have been perfectly adequate to sustain the
brunt of the whole French fleet. But what has Graves done ?
Instead of keeping his squadron entire and together in the port of
New York, he preferred to fatigue himself in a fruitless cruise before
Boston, until the bad weather which he met had disabled the greater
part of his ships. Hence it followed of necessity that even after the
arrival of admiral Hood at New York, our force was still inferior to
that of the French. It indeed now appears that no timely notice
had been received by admiral Graves either of the count de Grain's
motions, or of Hood's destination to the coasts of America. But if
the expresses which sir George Rodney had dispatched for that
purpose w £re taken by the enemy, or otherwise detained, it is no
fault on his side ; it is a misfortune to be regretted ; but which could
neither have been absolutely foreseen, nor prevented if it could.
Finally, the commander-in-chief cannot be reproached for having
detached sir Samuel Hood to America, instead of repairing thither
himself ; for what naval officer is more worthy of all our confidence
than Hood ? '
Without undertaking to decide between these opposite opinions,
we shall content ourselves with remarking, that though, in military
fact% it i»not allowable to judge by the event, it is (nevertheless just
to consider the causes which have produced it ; and nothing is more
certain than that the conduct of admiral Rodney, in the present
conjuncture, had an influence upon the chances of the continental
struggle, upon the fortune of America herself, and even upon the
issue of all this war.
Having sketched the events which signalized the present year, as
well in Europe as in the West Indies, we are now to record those
which occupied the scene upon the continent of America. It was
the theater of the principal efforts of the two parties that contended,
arms in hand, for its possession. Every where else the contest had
in view the success of the campaign, and to obtain a better peace :
there, its object was existence itself. But before undertaking th£
portraiture of military operations, it is necessary to apply the atten-
tion to objects which, though less brilliant and glorious, are. however,
the first source, and the firmest foundation ot warlike exploits. Such,
doubtless, is the internal administration of the state. The situation of
the United States at the commencement of the year 1781 , presented, in
general, only objects of affliction and disquietude. The efforts which
the Americans had made the preceding year, and the events which
had passed in the Carolinas, had revived public spirit and produced
happy effects. But these effects being founded only upon the fugi-
tive ardor of particular men, and not upon a settled and permanent
BOOK XIV. THE AMERICAN WAR. 363
order of things, it followed that discouragement and distress re-ap-
peared with more alarming symptoms than ever. The public
treasury was empty, or only filled with bills of credit, no longer of
any worth. The army supplies totally failed, or were only procured
by compulsion, accompanied with certificates of receipt, which had
lost all sort of credit. The inhabitants became disgusted, and con-
cealed their commodities. If by dint of effort some scanty recruit
of provision was at length collected, it could not be transported to
t^pjblace of its destination, for want of money to pay the wagoners.
In some districts, where it was attempted to impress them, there arose
violent murmurs ; which even degenerated into more strenuous col-
lisions. No where had it been possible to form magazines ; scarcely
did there exist here and there some repositories, which often cun-
tained neither food nor clothing of any denomination ; even the
arsenals were without arms. The soldiers, covered with tatters, or
half naked, destitute of all comforts, implored in vain the compassion
of the country they defended. The veteram deserted ; the recruits
refused to join the army. The congress had decreed that by the
first of January, there should be thirty-seven thousand men under
arms ; it would have been difficult to have mustered the eighth part
of that number in the month of May. In a word, it seemed «s if
America, at the very crisis of her fate, was about to prove wanting
to herself, and that after having gained the better part of her career,
she was more than half inclined to retrace her steps. Far from the
Americans being thought capable of waging an offensive war, it was
scarcely believed that they could defend their firesides. Already, it
began to be feared that instead of assisting the French to drive out
the soldiers of king George, they would prove unable to prevent the
latter from expelling the troops of Lewis XVI. So disastrous was
the change of fortune occasioned by the exhaustion of the finances,
and, still more, by the want of a system of administration proper to
re-establish them. This state of things was not overlooked by the
American government, and it exerted every utmost effort to apply a
remedy. But its power was far from corresponding to its intentions.
The only means that congress had for administering to the wants of
the state, consisted in a new emission of bills of credit, or an increase
of taxes. But the paper money had lost all sort of value. The
congress itself had been constrained to request the different states to
repeal the laws by which they had made the bills of credit a tender
in ull payments. It had even ordained that in all future contracts tor
the supplies of the army, the prices should be stipulated in specie.
This was the same as declaring formally that the" state itself would
no longer acknowledge its own bills for current money, and that this
364 THE AMERICAN WAR. BOOK XIV.
paper not only no longer had, but no longer could have, the least
value. As to taxes, the congress had not the right to impose them ;
it belonged exclusively to the provincial assemblies. But these
exercised it with more backwardness than could comport with the
public interests. This coJdness proceeded from several causes.
The rulers of the particular states were, for the most part, men who
owed their places to popular favor. They apprehended losing it, if
they subjected to contributions of any importance, the inhabitants of a
country where, from the happy, shall I call it, or baleful facilit5fcf
issuing paper money, to answer the public exigencies, they were
accustomed to pay no taxes, or next to none. Moreover, although
the bills of congress were entirely discredited, the particular states
still had theirs, which, though much depreciated, were still current at
a certain rate ; and the provincial legislatures appAhended, and not
without reason, that taxes, payable in specie, would cause them to
fall still lower. Nor should it be passed over in silence, that no gene-
ral regulation having established the quota of contribution to be paid
by each province according to its particular faculties, all, through
^mtual jealousy, were reluctant to vote taxes, for fear of loading
themselves more than their neighbors. Such was the spirit of dis-
trust and selfishness which made its appearance every where, when-
ever it was necessary to require of the citizens the smallest pecuniary
sacrifice. While they were looking at one another with a jealous
eye, and none would give the example, the finances of the state
were entirely exhausted, and the republic itself was menaced with a
total dissolution. It could not be hoped, on the other hand, that the
particular states would consent to invest the congress with authority
to impose taxes, as well because men with authority in hand are little
disposed to part with it, as because the opinions then entertained by
the Americans on the subject of liberty, led them to view with dis-
quietude any increase of the power of congress. Finally, it should
be observed, that at this epoch, the Americans cherished an extreme
confidence in the pecuniary succors of friendly powers, and especially
of France. They were persuaded that no more was necessary than
that a minister of congress should present his requisition to any
European court, in order to obtain immediately whatever sums of
money it might please him to specify. As if foreigners were bound
to have more at heart than the Americans themselves, the interests
and prosperity of America. In a word, the resource of paper money
was no more, and that of taxes was yet to be created. Nor could it
be dissembled, that even upon the hypothesis of a system of taxation
in full operation, and as productive as possible, the produce would
still fall infinitely short of supplying the gulf of war, and, by conse-
BOOK XIV. THE AMERICAN WAR. 3C5
quence, that the revenue would continue enormously below the
expense. Indeed, so ruinous were the charges of this war, that they
amounted to no less than twenty millions of dollars a year ; and not
more than eight could have been counted upon, from the heaviest
taxes which, under these circumstances, the United States would
have been able to bear. A better administration of the public treasure
might doubtless have diminished the exorbitant expenses of the milita-
ry^tepartment ; but it is nevertheless clear that they would always
1 J0F greatly exceeded the revenue. Actuated by these different re-
flections, the congress had hastened to instruct doctor Franklin to
use the most pressing instances with the count de Vergennes, who
at that time had the principal direction of affairs relating to America,
in order to obtain from France a loan of some millions of livres, to-
wards defraying the expense of the war. Franklin was also direct-
ed to solicit permission of the court of Versailles to open another loan
for account of the United States, with the French capitalists that were
inclined to favor the cause of America. The same instructions were
sent, with a view of effecting similar loans, to John Adams, and John
Jay ; the first, minister plenipotentiary of the United States, near the
republic of Holland ; the second, at the court of Madrid. The latter
was to insinuate to Spain, so great was the discouragement which
prevailed at that time in America, that the United States would re-
nounce the navigation of the Mississippi, and even the possession of
a port upon that river ; the other was to persuade the Dutch that
important commercial advantages would be granted them. Franklin,
especially, was to represent to France, that without money the affairs
of America were desperate. It was recommended to these different
envoys to set forth all the resources which America offered as guar-
antee of her fidelity in fulfilling her engagements. The congress
attached so much importance to the success of these negotiations,
that not content with having sent these new instructions to their min-
isters, they also dispatched colonel Laurens to France, with orders
to support by the most urgent solicitations the instances of Franklin
at the court of Versailles.
The court of Madrid was inflexible, because Jay would not agree
to the renunciation above mentioned. Holland showed herself no
better disposed, because she doubted the responsibility of the new
state. France alone, who judiciously considered that aiding the vic-
tory of the United States, and preserving their existence, was of more
worth to her than the money they demanded, granted six millions of
jvres, not as a loan, but as a gift. She seized this occasion to ex-
pi ess her dissatisfaction at the coldness with which the Americans
f nemselves contemplated the distress of their country. She exhorted
366 THE AMERICAN WAR. BOOK XIV.
diem to reflect, that when it is desired to accomplish honorable enter-
prises, it is requisite not to be avaricious in the means of success.
The court of Versailles did not omit to make the most of its munifi-
cence, by setting forth all the weight of its own burdens. But the
sum it gave being too far short of the wants, it consented to become
security, in Holland, for a loan of ten millions of livres, to be nego-
tiated there by the United States. Notwithstanding this guarantee,
the loan progressing but slowly, the king of France consent^L to
make an advance of the sum total, which he drew from his own^b-
ury. He would not, however, authorize the loan proposed tooe
opened with his subjects. The Americans had thus succeeded in
procuring from the court of France a subsidy of sixteen millions of
livres. A part of this sum, however, was already absorbed by the
payment of preceding drafts of the congress upon Franklin, for par-
ticular exigencies of the state. The remainder was embarked for
America in specie, or employed by colonel Laurens in purchases of
clothing, arms, and munitions of war. The intention of the giver
of the six millions was, that this sum, being specially destined for the
use of the American army, should be kept in reserve, at the disposal
of general Washington, or placed in his hands, to the end that it might
not fall into those of other authorities, who might perhaps apply it
to other branches of the public service. This condition was far from
being agreeable to the congress ; on the contrary, it displeased that
body particularly, under the impression that its soldiers would thus
become, as it were, stipendiaries of France ; and it feared lest they
might abate much of their dependence on itself. It therefore decreed,
that the articles bought with the money given by France, should be
consigned, on their arrival in America, to the department of war ;
but that all the ready money should be placed in the hands of the treas-
urer, to remain under his charge, and to be expended agreeably to
the orders of congress, and for the service of the state. This succor
on the part of France was of great utility to the United States ; it
increased exceedingly their obligations towards Lewis XVI. But
before the negotiations which led to it were terminated, and the mon-
ey or supplies were arrived in America, a long time had elapsed ;
and the evil was grown to such a head, that the remedy had well nigh
come too late. The subsidy in itself was by no means adequate to
the n3cessity. But even had it been sufficient to answer the present
exigencies, it could not be considered as having accomplished its ob-
ject, so long as the same disorder continued to reign in the publio
expenses. The treasury suffered still less from the poverty of reve-
nues than from the prodigalities it had to supply. It had not escaped
the congress that this primordial defect in the administration of the
BOOK XIV. THE AMERICAN WAR. 367
finances was the source of those perpetual embarrassments which had
beset them since the origin of the revolution. Firmly resolved to in-
troduce into that department a rigorous system of order and economy,
they appointed for treasurer Robert Morris, one of the deputies of
the state of Pennsylvania ; a man of high reputation, and possessed
of extensive knowledge and experience in commercial and financial
affairs. His mind was active, his manners pure, his fortune ample,
and his zeal for independence extremely ardent. He was author-
iz^rto oversee and direct the receipt and disbursement of the public
money, to investigate the state of the public debt, and to digest and
report a new plan of administration. If the charge imposed on Mor-
ris wus ponderous, the talent and firmness with which he sustained it,
were not less astonishing. He was not slow in substituting regularity
for disorder, and good faith in the room of fraud.
The first, the most essential of the qualities of an administrator,
being exactness in the fulfillment of his obligations, the new treasurer
adhered with rigor to an invariable punctuality. He soon gathered
the fruits of it ; instead of a general distrust, there sprung up, by little
and little, a universal confidence. One of the first operations of the
treasurer ivas to lay before congress an outline of a national bank,
for all the United States of America. He assigned to this bank a
capital of four hundred thousand dollars, divided in shares of four
hundred dollars each, in money of gold or silver, to be procured by
means of subscriptions ; by the same means this capital might be
increased, when expedient, and according to certain restrictions.
Twelve directors were to manage the bank ; it was recognized by
congress under the name of the president, directors and company of
the bank of North America. All its operations were to be subject to
the inspection of the treasurer. Such were the bases and principal
features of this establishment. The utility to be derived from it was,
that the bills of the bank, payable on demand, should be declared
legal money for the payment of all excises and taxes in each of the
United States, and receivable into the chests of the public treasury
as gold or silver. The congress adopted this plan by a special
decree. Subscribers presented themselves in throngs, and all the
shares were soon taken. The states realized an extraordinary
benefit from this institution. The treasurer, by means of exchequer
notes, was enabled to anticipate the produce of imposts and taxes.
Not content with having brought, by means of the bank, the capitals
and credit of the stockholders to the support of public credit, he was
disposed to operate the same effect in his own name, and with his
private credit. He accordingly threw into circulation no small sum
of obligations signed by himself, and payable at different terms onto!
363 THE AMERICAN WAR. BOOK XIV.
foreign subsidies, or even out of the revenues of the United States.
And although with time these obligations had amounted to upwards
of five hundred and eighty-one thousand dollars, they still never de-
preciated, excepting, perhaps, a little towards the end of the war ;
so great was the confidence of the public in the good faith and
punctuality of the treasurer. Thus, at the very epoch in which the
ciedit of the state was almost entirely annihilated, and its bills nearly
without value, that of a single individual was stable and universal.
It is impossible to overrate the advantages which resulted to^|he
government from having-, in these obligations of the treasuier, the
means of anticipating the produce of taxes, at a time when such an-
ticipation was not only necessary, but indispensable. By this aid it
was enabled to provide for the wants of the army, no longer by way
of requisitions, but by regular contracts. This new mode had the
most happy effects ; it produced economy in purchases, exactness in
supplies, and a cordial satisfaction among the people, who had always
manifested an extreme disgust at the compulsory requisitions. It
cannot be advanced, assuredly, that this anticipated employment of
the produce of taxes is an example to be imitated ; nor even can it
be denied, on the contrary, that it has dangers. But Robert Morris
had the faculty of using this resource with so much discretion, and of
introducing so admirable an order and economy into all parts of the
public expense, that no manner of inconvenience resulted from it.
But a foundation was necessary to all these new dispositions of the
treasurer ; and this foundation consisted in taxes. The congress
therefore decreed that the states should be required to furnish the
treasury, by way of assessments, with the sum of eight millions of
dollars ; and at the same time determined what should be, in this
sum, the contingent of each state. Such was the urgency of the
affairs of the republic, and the confidence that all had placed in the
treasurer, that the states conformed willingly to this new decree of
congress ; and thus an efficacious remedy was at length applied to
the penury of the treasury. The solicitude of Robert Morris for the
prosperity of the state did not end here.
The province of Pennsylvania, as a country abounding in wheat,
was that from which was drawn the greater part of the supplies of
flour for the use of the army. The want of money had occasioned,
towards the beginning of the year, an extreme slowness in the de-
livery of these supplies. But Morris was no sooner in place, than
he employed his private credit in the purchase of flour for the sol-
diers. He afterwards undertook, with the approbation of govern-
ment, to furnish the requisitions for similar supplies that might be
made upon Pennsylvania during the present year, on condition, now-
BOOK XIV. THE AMERICAN WAR. 369
ever, of being authorized to reimburse himself from the produce of
the apportioned contribution of that province. It amounted to up-
wards of eleven hundred and twenty thousand dollars. In this man-
ner, by the cares of the treasurer, public credit was resuscitated, and
th-e exhausted treasury was sufficiently replenished to meet expenses.
To him it was principally owing that the armies of America did not
disband ; and that the congress, instead of yielding to an inevitable
necessity, recovered the means not only of resisting the efforts of the
enemy, but even of resuming the offensive with vigor and success.
Certainly, the Americans owed, and still owe, as much acknowledg"-
ment to the financial operations of Robert Morris, as to the negotia-
tions of Benjamin Franklin, or even to the arms of George Washington.
Before the salutary effect of this new system had braced the tot-
tering state, a sinister event had given room to fear that the present
year would prove the last of the republic. The terror it occasioned
was the first cause, or at least the most powerful incitement, of the
introduction of a better method. At this time, as we have already
remarked, the soldiers experienced the most intolerable destitution,
not only of all the parts of military equipment, but even of articles
the most necessary to life. Their discontent was extreme. A par-
ticular motive still aggravated the ill humor of the regular troops of
Pennsylvania. They had enlisted for three years, or duringall the war.
The ambiguity of the terms of their engagement led them to think it
had expired with the year 1780. They claimed, therefore, the right to
return to their homes, while the government contended that they were
bound to serve to the end of the war. These two causes combined,
so heated all heads, that a violent tumult broke out in the night of the
first of January. The mutineers declared that they would march
under arms, to the very place where congress was in session, in order
to obtain the redress of their grievances. Their number amounted to
near fifteen hundred men. The officers endeavored to quell the in-
surrection, but it was in vain ; and in the riot that ensued, several of
the seditious and one officer were killed. General Wayne presented
himself, a man by his valor of great authority with the soldiers ; he
advanced against the mutineers pistol in hand ; but he was told to
take care what he was about to do, or that even he would be cut to
pieces. Already their bayonets were directed against his breast.
Immediately after, collecting the artillery, baggage and wagons, which
belonged to their division, they put themselves on the march, in the
best order, upon Middlebrook. At night they intrenched themselves
with the same caution as if they had been in an enemy's country
They had elected for the r chief a certain Williams, a British desert-
er, and had given him o *ort of counci. of war, composed ol" all the
VOL. xi. 24
370 THE AMERICAN WAR. BOOK XIV.
sergeants of the companies. From Middlebrook they inarched upon
Princeton, and encamped there. They would not suffer officers
among them. The marquis de la Fayette, general St. Clair, and
colonel Laurens, who had hastened to Princeton to endeavor to allay
the ferment, were constrained to leave the town.
The news of the insurrection reached Philadelphia. The con-
-gress viewed the affair in that serious light which its importance de-
manded. They immediately dispatched commissioners, among
whom were generals Reed and Sullivan, to investigate facts and
ordain measures calculated to re-establish tranquillity. Arrived in the
vicinity of Princeton, they sent to demand of the mutineers what was
the motive of their conduct, and what would content them ? They
answered with arrogance, that they were determined to be put off no
longer with empty promises ; and their intention was, that all the
soldiers who had served three years should have their discharge ;
that those who should be discharged, and those who should remain
in service, should receive immediately the full arrears of their pay,
clothing and provisions : and moreover, that they insisted on being
paid punctually for the future, without even the delay of twenty-four
hours.
General Clinton, who was at New York, being soon informed of
this defection in the American army, resolved to leave no means
untried that could turn it to advantage. He hastened to dispatch
to the insurgents, three American loyalists, commissioned to make
the following proposals to them in his name ; to be taken under the
protection of the British government ; to have a free pardon for all
past offenses; to have the pay due to them from congress faithfully
paid, without any expectation of military service in return, although
it would be received if voluntarily offered ; and the only conditions
required on their side, were to lay down their arms, and return to
their allegiance. The inability of congress to satisfy their just de-
mands, and the severity with which they would be treated if they
returned to their former servitude, were points to be strongly urged
by the agents ; and the insurgents were invited to send persons to
Amboy, to meet others who would be appointed by Clinton, in order
to discuss and settle the treaty, and bring matters to a final conclu-
sion. But the British general thought proper to do yet more ; in
order to embolden the insurgents by his proximity, he passed over to
Staten Island with no small part of his troops. He would not, how-
ever, proceed still farther, and venture to set foot in New Jersey, for
fear of exciting a general alarm, and throwing the mutineers directly
back into the arms of congress. The insurgents made no positive
answer to Clinton ; and they detained his emissaries. In the mean-
BOOK XIV. THE AMERICAN WAR. 371
time, the committee of congress and the delegates of the rebels had
opened a negotiation ; but such was the exasperation of minds on
both sides, that it seemed next to impossible that the differences
should be settled by an amicable adjustment. They first offered to
grant discharges to those who had taken arms indeterminately, for
three years, or for the term of the war. In cases where the written
engagements could not be produced, the soldiers should be admitted
to make oath. They were promised certificates in reimbursement
of the sums they had lost by the depreciation of paper money ;
they were assured of the earliest possible payment of arrears ; of the
immediate delivery of such articles of clothing as they stood in the
most urgent need of; and of a total oblivion with respect to their
past conduct. These propositions were not fruitless ; the mutineers
accepted them, and the disturbance was appeased. They afterwards
marched to Trenton, where the promises which had been made them
were realized. They delivered into the hands of the commissioners
the emissaries of Clinton, who were accordingly hanged without
ceremony or delay.
Thus terminated a tumult which had occasioned the most anxious
apprehensions to the American government, and inspired the British
general with the most flattering hopes. It is true that many excel-
lent soldiers solicited their discharge, and abandoned the army to
rejoin their families. Washington, during the mutiny, made no move-
ment whatever. He remained tranquil in his head-quarters at New
Windsor, on the banks of the Hudson. His conduct is to be attrib-
uted to several motives. He apprehended lest his own soldiers
might take part in the insurrection, or lest their inconsiderable num-
ber might not be capable of overawing the mutineers. In retiring
from the borders of the Hudson, he must have left exposed to the
enterprises of the British general those passages which already had
been so often contested. His principal fear, however, was that of
lessening his authority over the troops, if he exerted it without suc-
cess, and it must be admitted that it might have had the mo?t disas-
trous consequences. Perhaps also, within his own breast, he was
not sorry that the congress, as well as the governments of the several
states, should have been roused by such a spur ; that being struck
with the difficulty of collecting the funds necessary to the support of
the army, they might for the future redouble activity in that vital
part of the public service. A few days after this event, the regula$
troops of New Jersey, excited by the example of the insurrection of
the Pennsylvanians, and encouraged by the success that attended it,
erected in like manner the standard of revolt. But Washington
marched against them a strong corps of soldiers whose fidelity has
372 THE AMERICAN WAR. BOOK XIV.
been proved in the late sedition ; the mutineers were soon brought
to a sense of duty ; and their ringleaders chastised with exemplary
severity. This act of rigor put an end to all mutinies. They were
followed at least by this salutary consequence, that the government,
more clear sighted with respect to its interests, made useful efforts to
remedy the origin of the evil. It sent to camp a sufficient quantity
of money, in gold and silver, to discharge the pay of three months.
The soldiers, consoled by this relief, resumed patience to wait till the
operations of finance, which we have mentioned above, had produced
the happy effects that were to be expected from them.
During the time in which the congress, supported by the opinion
of Washington and of the most influential individuals of the confed-
eration, labored to re-establish order in the internal administration,
the first source of military successes, the war was carried on with
spirit in the provinces of the south. General Greene marched at the
head of formidable forces to the deliverance of South Caroline-
Lord Cornwallis, considering it as a prey that could not escape him,
had left it almost without defense, in order to prosecute his designs
against Virginia. After his departure, the command of that province
devolved upon lord Rawdon, a young man full of ardor and talents.
He had established his head-quarters at Camden, a place fortified
with much diligence. Its garrison, however, was feeble, and, if it
sufficed for the defense of the town, it was by no means in a condi-
tion to keep the field. The same weakness existed in all the other
posts of the province, that were still occupied by the English. As
the public sentiment was every where hostile to their domination,
they were compelled to divide their troops into a great number of
petty detachments, in order to maintain themselves in positions neces-
sary lo their safety and subsistence. The principal of these points
were, the city of Charleston itself, and those of Camden, Ninety-
Six, and Augusta.
iJpon the first rumorof the retrent of Cornwallis towards Virginia,
the Carolinians had conceived hopes of a new order of things. Al-
ready, in many places, they had broken out with violence against
me British authorities. Sumpter and Marion, both very enterprising
men, fanned the fire of insurrection. They organized in regular com
panics all those of their party who rallied under their banners. They
held in check the frontiers of lower Carolina, while Greene, with the
jnnin body of his army, marched upon Camden. His approach was
already felt in that city by a secret movement in his favor. To
animate the minds still more, he had detached colonel Lee, with his
light horse, to join Marion and Sumpter. Thus lord Rawdon found
himself all of a sudden assailed not only in front by the army oi
BOOK XIV. THE AMERICAN WAR. 373
Greene, but also in jeopardy of having the way intercepted to his
retreat upon Charleston. He was slow, however, in believing the
accounts which reached him respecting the movements of the enemy.
Lord Cornwallis had not neglected to notify him in an authentic
manner, that he evacuated Carolina to march against Virginia ; but
the inhabitants were so adverse to the British cause, that none of his
couriers had been able to traverse the country without falling into
their hands. And how was Rawdon to conceive that the fruit of the
victory of Guildford should be to constrain lord Cornwallis to retire
before the enemy he had beaten ? Rawdon, however, did not allow
himself to be intimidated by the peril of his position ; he set himself,
on the contrary, to devise means for eluding it by his courage and
prudence. He would have wished to approach Charleston, but see-
ing the country infested by the light troops of Sumpter and Greene,
he soon relinquished the idea. He was also determined by the
consideration that Camden was a strong place, and capable of sus-
taining the first efforts of the enemy. He hastened, however, to
re-inforce the garrison with all those which he withdrew from posts
unsusceptible of defense ; only leaving troops in fortified places.
Greene, at the head of his army, appeared in view of the ramparts
of Camden ; but he found them too well guarded to afford any
prospect of success from an attack, which he could only undertake,
with insufficient forces. He accordingly merely occupied the
heights, and intrenched himself upon an eminence, called Hobhirk
Hill, about a mile from the place. He was not without hopes of
being able to entice the British to combat ; for, though not in a
situation to force them behind their walls, he felt strong enough to
fight them in the open field. His position was formidably strong.
His front between the hill and Camden was covered by thick brush-
wood, and his left by a deep and impracticable swamp. The Amer-
icans guarded themselves with little care in this encampment ; they
placed too much confidence in the strength of the place, or in the
weakness of the enemy, or perhaps they did but abandon themselves
to that natural negligence which so many disasters had not yet been
able to cure them of. Lord Rawdon caused them to be watched
attentively ; he knew that they had sent their artillery to some dis-
tance in their rear, and immediately took a daring resolution, but
urged by circumstances, that of attacking. After having armed the
musicians, drummers, and every being in his army that was able to
carry a firelock, he left the city to the custody of the convalescents,
and marched towards Hobkirk.
Wot being able to cross the brushwood, nor yet the swamps,
which he had before him, he drew off to the right, and by taking
374 THE AMERICAN WAR. BOOK X1V\
an extensive circuit, turned the morass, and came down by surprise
upon the left flank of the American line. At the appearance of so
pressing a danger, Greene endeavored to repair, by the promptitude
of his dispositions, the negligence of which he felt himself culpable.
Having observed that the English marched very compact in a single
column, he conceived hopes of being able to fall upon their two
flanks. He accordingly ordered colonel Ford to attack the enemy's
left with a Maryland regiment, while colonel Campbell should assail
them on the right. He then directed a charge in front to be led
by colonel Gunby, while colonel Washington with his cavalry should
turn their right, and assault them in rear. The combat soon became
general, and was pushed with equal resolution on both sides. The
royal troops began at first to give way ; the ranks of their infantry
and cavalry were broken. Their disorder was still increased by a
violent fire of grape-shot, with which they were taken in rear by an
American battery which had just arrived upon the field of battle. In
this critical moment, lord Rawdon pushed forward a battalion of
Irish volunteers and some other companies, of which he had formed
a reserve. These fresh troops restored the fortune of the day.
The action was grown excessively hot, and alternate undulations
equalized the success. But at length a Maryland regiment, vigor-
ously charged by the enemy, fell into confusion and took flight.
This struck a damp into the whole line, and the rout was shortly
general. The Americans attempted several times to rally, but
always in vain ; the English pushed them too fiercely. They enter-
ed almost at the same time with them into the intrenchments upon
the ridge.
Meanwhile, colonel Washington, agreeably to the orders of his
general, had arrived with his corps of cavalry upon the rear of the
British army, before it had recovered from the disorder into which
it had been thrown by the first shock. He took advantage of it to
make a great number of prisoners. But when he saw that the posi-
tion of Greene was forced, he thought proper to retreat. A part of
the prisoners escaped ; the remainder he conducted to camp, where
he rejoined the main body of the army.
General Greene, after this check, had fallen back upon Gun
Swamp, five miles from Hobkirk, where he remained several days,
to collect the fugitives and re-organize the army. This affair, which
was called the battle of Hobkirk, was fought the twenty-fifth of
April. Lord Rawdon, being inferior in cavalry, and enfeebled by a
great loss of men, instead of pursuing Greene, had re-entered within
the walls of Camden. He was desirous to make that place the
center of his operations, and this he was the more inclined to da,
BOOK XIT. THE AMERICAN WAR. 375
since he nad just received a re-inforcement of troops under the con
duct of colonel Watson. But he was informed that the inhabitants
of the whole interior country at his back, had revolted with one con-
sent, that already fort Watson had capitulated, and that those of
Granby, Orangeburgh and Motte, were closely invested. The last,
situated near the junction of the Congaree with the Santee, and con-
taining extensive magazines, was of no little importance. Lord
Rawdon, reflecting that all these forts were upon his rear, judged
his situation imminently hazardous*. He therefore resolved to evac-
uate Camden, and retire lower down towards Charleston ; this
resolution he executed the ninth of May. He razed the fortifica-
tions, put in safety all the artillery and baggage, and brought off the
families of the loyalists, who by their zeal for the royal cause had
rendered themselves odious to the republicans. The whole army
arrived on the thirteenth at Nelsons Ferry, upon the banks of the
Santee river. Here, having received the unwelcome tidings that all
the forts mentioned above were fallen into the hands of the Ameri-
cans, the British general raised his camp, and carried it still farther
back to Eutaw Springs.
General Greene, perceiving that Rawdon, by retreating into the
lower parts of Carolina, had abandoned all thoughts of maintaining
himself in the upper country, formed a design to reduce Ninety-Six
and Augusta, the only posts that still held out for the king. These
two forts were already invested by the militia headed by colonels
Pickens and Clarke. Greene appeared with his army before the
walls of Ninety-Six, and proceeded to push the siege by regular
approaches. One of the officers who distinguished themselves the
most in that operation was colonel Kosciusko, a young Pole, full ot
enthusiasm for the cause of the Americans. The defense of the
place was directed by lieutenant-colonel Cruger. During this time,
colonel Pickens vigorously pushed his operations against the town of
Augusta, which was defended with equal bravery and ability by
colonel Brown. These two places were very strong, and could not
be reduced but by a long siege.
Meanwhile, Lord Rawdon saw with extreme solicitude that in
losing these posts, whose value he justly appreciated, he must also
lose the garrisons which defended them. A re-inforcement of three
regiments, newly arrived at Charleston from Ireland, gave him hopes
of being able to relieve these fortresses, and principally Ninety-Six.
Every course which presented itself to his mind being equally diffi-
cult and dangerous, he preferred, without hesitation, that which
appeared the most magnanimous. He received intelligence on his
march of the loss of Augusta. Pressed with great industry by colo-
376 THE AMERICAN WAR. BOOK XIV.
nel Pickens, and witnout hope of relief, thai place had just surren-
dered to the arms of congress. This disaster operated with the
British general as a new motive for endeavoring to preserve Ninety-
Six. Upon the rumor of the approach of Rawdon, Greene reflected
that the number and discipline of his soldiers was not such as to
afford a hope that he would be able to resist, at the same time, the
garrison of Ninety-Six, and the fresh and warlike troops that were
advancing against him. On the other hand, to raise the siege before
having attempted some vigorous stroke against the place, appeared
to him too disgraceful a step. Accordingly, however imperfect
were the works of attack, he resolved to hazard an assault. He
had already reached the ditch, it is true, and had pushed a sap to
the foot of a bastion, but the fortifications were yet in a great meas-
ure entire. The body of the place was therefore to be considered
as being proof against insult. But general Greene was desirous at
least to save in his retreat the honor of the American arms. A
general assault was therefore given with extreme impetuosity, which
the English sustained with no less valor. Greene, seeing the terrible
carnage which the artillery made among his soldiers, in the ditch
not yet filled up with the ruins of the breach, determined at length
to retire. Soon after this check, lord Rawdon being now but a
small distance from his camp, he raised it all at once, and withdrew
beyond the Tiger and the Broad rivers. The royalists followed
him, but in vain. The British general, having entered into Ninety-
Six, examined the state of the place, and was of opinion that it
could not hold out against a regular attack. He therefore put him-
self again on the march, directing it towards the lower parts of
Carolina, and proceeded to establish his head-quarters at Orange-
burgh. Imboldened by his retreat, Greene soon showed himself
before this last place. But at sight of the British forces, and of
their excellent position, covered by the windings of the river, he
paused, and bent his march towards the heights which border the
Santee.
The hot and sickly season being arrived, it effected that which
could not have been expected from the rage of men : hostilities
ceased. It would seem that during this suspension of arms, civil
hatreds were rekindled with increase of fury. The English especial-
ly, as if to revenge their defeats, showed themselves more exasperated
tnan the Americans. It was at this epoch that there passed a lament-
able event, which excited to the highest degree the indignation of
all America, and particularly of the Carolinas. Colonel Isaac Hayne
had warmly espoused the cause of American Independence. Dur-
•ng the siege of Charleston he had served in a volunteer corps of
BOOR XIV. THE AMERICAN WAR. 377
light horse. After the surrender of that city, Hayne, who was
tenderly attached to his family, could not find in his heart to part
with it, in order to seek refuge in distant places against the tyranny
of the victors. He knew that other American officers had obtained
permission to return peaceably to their habitations, on giving their
parole not to act against the interests of the king. He repaired
therefore to Charleston, went to the British generals, and constituted
himseK their prisoner of war. But knowing all the resources of his
mind, and the authority he possessed among the inhabitants, they
wished to have him entirely in their power, and refused to receive
him in the character he was come to claim. They signified to him
that he must acknowledge himself for a British subject, or submit
to be detained in a rigorous captivity. This idea would not have
intimidated colonel Hayne ; but he could not endure that of being
so long separated from his wife and children. He knew also that
they were under the attack of small-pox ; and soon after, in effect,
the mother and two of the children became the victims of that cruel
malady. Neither could he overlook, that if he did not accede to
what was exacted of him, an unbridled soldiery waited only tht
signal to sack and devastate his plantations.
In this distressing alternative, the father, the husband triumphed
in his breast ; he consented to invest himself with the condition t>f *
British subject. The only favor he demanded was, that he might
not be constrained to bear arms against his party. This was solemnly
promised him by the British general Patterson, and by Simcoe, su-
perintendent of police at Charleston. But before taking this peril-
ous resolution, he had waited upon doctor Ramsay, the same who
afterwards wrote the history of the American revolution, praying
him to bear witness to the future that he by no means intended to
abandon the cause of independence. As soon as he had signed the
oath of allegiance, he had permission to return to his residence.
Meanwhile the war re-kindled with new violence ; and the Amer-
icans, hitherto beaten and dispersed, resumed the offensive with such
vigor that the British generals were alarmed at their progress. Then,
m longer regarding the promises which they had made to colonel
Hayne, they intimated to him an order to take arms and march with
them against the revolted republicans. He refused. The troops of
congress afterwards penetrated into the country ; the inhabitants of
his district rose and elected him for their chief. No longer considering
himself bound to keep that faith which it appeared that others were
not disposed to keep towards him, he yielded to the wish of his
countrymen, and again took up those arms which he had laid
down through necessity. He scoured the country in the vicinity o!
378 THE AMERICAN WAR. BOOK XIV.
Charleston, at the head of a corps of dragoons. But it was not
long before he fell into an ambuscade laid for him by the British com-
manders. He was immediately conducted to the city, and thrust
into a deep dungeon. Without form of trial, lord Rawdon and
colonel Balfour, the commandant of Charleston, condemned him
to death. This sentence appeared to every one, as it was in reality,
an act of barbarity. Even deserters are indulged with a regular
trial, and find defenders ; spies only are deprived of this privilege by
the laws of war. Royalists and republicans all equally pitied the
colonel, whose virtues they esteemed ; they would fain have saved
his life. They did not restrict themselves to mere wishes ; a depu-
tation of loyalists, having the governor in behalf of the king at their
head, waited upon lord Rawdon, and earnestly solicited him in favor
of the condemned. The most distinguished ladies of Charleston
united their prayers to the general recommendation that his pardon
might be granted. His children, still of tender age, accompanied by
their nearest relations, and wearing mourning for their mother, whom
they had so recently lost, threw themselves at the feet of Rawdon,
demanding with the most touching cries the life of their unhappy
father. All the bystanders seconded with floods of tears the petition
of these hapless orphans. Rawdon and Balfour obstinately refused
to mitigate the rigor of their decision.
When about to be conducted to death, colonel Hayne called into
his presence his eldest son, then thirteen years of age. He delivered
him papers addressed to the congress, then said to him ; ' Thou
wilt come to the place of my execution ; thou wilt receive my body,
and cause it to be deposited in the tomb of our ancestors.' Being
arrived at the foot of the gibbet, he took leave in the most affecting
manner of the friends who surrounded him, and armed himself to his
last moment with the firmness which had honored his life. He was,
in the same degree, a man of worth, a tender father, a zealous
patriot, and an intrepid soldier. If the tyranny of the prince, or
the impatience of the people, render political revolutions sometimes
inevitable, it is certainly much to be deplored that the first and prin-
cipal victims of this scourge, should be, almost always, citizens the
most worthy of general esteem and affection. After having taken
this cruel vengeance of a man so universally respected, lord Rawdon
left the capital of Carolina clouded with melancholy, and brooding
terrible reprisals; he made sail for England. To this act of rigor
on the part of the English generals, without doubt, may bt applied
the ancient adage ; ' An extreme justice is an extreme injury.' But
whatever may be thought of its justice, it must be admitted, tnat the
English, in showing themselves so ruthless at a moment when their
BOOK XIV. THE AMERICAN WAR. 379
affairs were already in such declension, appeared much more eager
to satiate the fury of a vanquished enemy than to accomplish an
equitable law. The aversion of the Americans for their barbarous
foes, acquired a new character of implacable animosity. The officers
of the army of general Greene solicited him to use reprisals, declar
ing that they were ready to run all the risks that might ensue from it
He issued, in effect, a proclamation, by which he threatened to retali-
ate the death of colonel Hayne upon the persons of the British
officers that might fall into his hands. Thus to the evils inseparable
from war, were joined the excesses produced by hatred and ven-
geance.
General Greene, during this interval, had not remained idle in his
camp upon the heights of the Santee. He had occupied himself
without relaxation in strengthening his army, in perfecting the old
troops by frequent maneuvers, and in disciplining the new corps.
His diligence had not failed of success. Re-inforced by the militia
of the neighboring districts, he saw under his banners soldiers no less
formidable to the English by their warlike ardor than by their num-
ber. The temperature of the season being become less burning, at
the commencement of September, he resolved to employ his forces
in expelling the British troops from the few towns which they still
occupied in South Carolina, besides the city of Charleston. Having
taken a circuitous march towards the upper Congaree, he passed it,
and descended rapidly along the right bank with all his army, in order
to attack the English, who, under the command of colonel Stewart,
occupied the post of Macords Ferry, near the confluence of that
river with the Santee. The royalists, on seeing the approach of an
enemy so superior in force, and especially in cavalry, reflected that
they were too remote from Charleston, whence they drew their sub-
sistence. They hastened therefore to quit Macords Ferry, and fell
back upon Eutaw Springs, where they labored to intrench them-
selves. Greene pursued them thither, and the eighth of September
witnessed the battle of Eutaw Springs. According to the dispositions
of the American general, the vanguard was composed of the militia
of the two Carolinas, and the center of the regular troops of those
provinces, of Virginia, and of Maryland . Colonel Lee with his legion
covered the right flank, and colonel Henderson the left. The rear-
guard consisted of the dragoons of colonel Washington and the militia
of Delaware. It was a corps of reserve destined to support the first
lines. The artillery advanced upon their front.
The British commander formed his troops in two lines ; the first
was defended on the right by the little river Eutaw, and on the let!
by a thick wood. The second, forming a reserve, crowned the
3SO THE AMERICAN WAR. BOOK XIV.
heights which command the Charleston road. After some skir-
mishing between the marksmen of the one and other army, they fell
back behind the ranks, and the engagement became general. It was
supported for a considerable time with balanced success ; but at
length, the militia of Carolina were broken, and retired in disorder
The British division, which formed the left of the first line, quitted its
position to pursue them. In this movement it lost its distances, and
could no longer combat in company with the other part of the line.
The Americans observed this opening, and profited of it immediately.
Greene pushed forward his second line; it charged so vigorously,
that the English, in their turn, were shaken, and began to recoil in
confusion. To complete their rout, colonel Lee with his cavalry
turned their left, and fell upon their rear. This maneuver precipi-
tated the flight of all that wing of the British army. The right alone
still held firm. But Greene caused it to be attacked briskly in front
by the regular troops of Maryland and Virginia, while the cavalry of
colonel Washington took it in flank. The trepidation then became
general ; all the corps of the British army tumbled one over another,
through haste to recover their intrenchments. Already the Ameri-
cans had taken several pieces of artillery and a great number of
prisoners. Victory seemed completely in their hands. But how
often has it been remarked, that the events of war depend upon the
caprices of chance ! Troops accustomed to a rigid discipline are
frequently able to rally in the midst of disorder, and recover, in an
instant, what they appeared to have lost irreparably. The battle we
describe affords a memorable example of it. The English, in their
flight, threw themselves into a large and very strong house, where
they resolved to make a desperate defense. Others took shelter in
a thick and almost impenetrable brushwood : and others in a garden
fenced with palisades. Here the action le-commenced with more
obstinacy than at first. The republicans did all that was to be ex-
pected of valiant soldiers, to dislodge their enemies from these new
posts. The house was battered by four pieces of artillery. Colonel
Washington, on the right, endeavored to penetrate into the wood, and
colonel Lee to force the garden. Their efforts were vain ; the
English defended themselves so strenuously, that they repulsed the
assailants with heavy loss. Colonel Washington himself was wounded
and taken. The conflict was fierce, the carnage dreadful ; but PC
where more than about the house. Meanwhile, colonel Stewart,
having rallied his right wing, pushed it forward, by a circuitous
movement, against the left flank of the Americans. This bold ma-
neuver convinced the American general that he would but vainly
waste torrents of blood in Further attempts to drive the enemy from
BOOK XIV. THE AMERICAN WAR. 381
their posts, and he ordered a retreat. He returned to his first en-
campment, some miles distant from the field of battle. This retro-
grade march was attributed to want of water. He brought off about
five hundred prisoners, and all his wounded, with the exception of
those who were too near the walls of the hpuse. He lost two pieces
of cannon. The English passed the rest of the daj in their intrench-
ments. At night, they abandoned them, and descended to Monks
Corner. The Americans write that the royalists, in their hurry, had
staved the casks containing spirituous liquors, and broken, or thrown
into the Eutaw, a great quantity of arms. The loss of Greene in this
action was estimated at upwards of six hundred men in killed,
wounded and prisoners ; that of Stewart, inclusive of the missing,
was much more considerable. The American soldiers exhibited in
this combat an extraordinary valor. Impatient, to close with their
enemies, they promptly resorted to the bayonet, a weapon which
they seemed to dread in the commencement of hostilities, and which
was now become so formidable in their war-trained hands. The
congress voted public thanks to those who had taken part in the
battle of Eutaw Springs. They presented general Greene with a
conquered standard and a medal of gold.
A short time after, having received some re-inforcements, he re-
solved to make another trial of fortune, and marched against the
English in lower Carolina. His appearance in the environs of
Monks Corner, and of Dorchester, decided them to evacuate the
open country, and shut themselves up entirely within Charleston.
They contented themselves with sending out scouts, and foraging
parties, who durst not venture far from the place. Greene, from his
great superiority in light troops, repulsed them upon all points, and
intercepted their convoys. In this manner the American general put
an end to the campaign of the south. After a long and sanguinary
struggle, his masterly maneuvers recovered to the confederation the
two Carolinas and Georgia, excepting only the two capitals of the
one and other province, which still obeyed the English, with a slender
portion of territory in their immediate vicinity ; such were the fruits
of the resolution taken by lord Cornwallis, at Wilmington, of carrying
his arms against Virginia. But to Greene great eulogies are due for
the talents he signalized in this conjuncture. When he came to
relieve general Gates in the command of the southern army, the
state of things was not only calamitous, but almost desperate. By
his gonius, activity and boldness, the evil was remedied so promptly,
that from vanquished, his soldiers became soon victorious ; from
despondency, the people passed to a confidence without bounds ;
382 THE AMERICAN WAR. BOOK XIV.
and the English, but now so arrogant, were forced to seek their only
safety behind the walls of Charleston.
The social qualities, ingenuousness and affability of manners, set
off in Greene the glory of the warrior. His virtues triumphed over
envy itself; illustrious for the eminent services which he rendered
his country, and uniformly modest and unaffected, he merited thai
his name should be transmitted immaculate to posterity. Virginia
was less fortunate than Carolina ; Arnold, as if he had coveted to
couple the name of bandit with that of traitor, carried fire and sword
into that province. Private property he respected as little as that of
the state. This horrible expedition, as we have already remarked,
had been ordained by the British generals with no other view but
that of seconding the efforts of Cornwallis in the Carolinas, by
diverting the attention and dividing the forces of the enemy. In
effect, the reduction of Virginia to the power of the king, with means
so inadequate, was a thing impossible to be executed, or even to be
expected. This was soon demonstrated. The disastrous conse-
quences of the plan adopted by Cornwallis, were equally fatal for
Arnold. Already, the rising of the militia of all the adjacent parts
had forced him to abandon the open country, and fall back with
precipitation upon Portsmouth, where he fortified himself with
extreme diligence. On the other hand, Washington, attentive to all
his movements, and wishing to gratify the just resentment of the
American nation towards its betrayer, formed a design to environ him
so effectually, by land and sea, as to render his escape impossible.
With this intent, he had detached the marquis de la Fayette towards
Virginia, at the head of twelve hundred light infantry ; and had also
induced the commander of the French fleet at Rhode Island to
dispatch a squadron of eight sail of the line, under the chevalier
Destouches, to cut off the retreat of Arnold from the Chesapeake.
But the English being early apprised of it, admiral Arbuthnot made
sail from New York with a squadron of equal force, and fell in with
the French off Cape Henry. A warm engagement ensued, in which
the loss of the two fleets was nearly balanced. The French, how-
ever, found themselves constrained to relinquish their designs, and
returned to Rhode Island. Upon this intelligence, M. de la Fayette,
who was already arrived at Annapolis in Maryland, marched thence
to the head of Elk. Thus Arnold escaped from, probably, the
most imminent danger in which he had ever been involved. The
Americans had afterwards occasion to send a flag to his head-
quarters. It is related, that the traitor general asked the person \vho
bore it, what they would have done with him if they had taken him ?
The American answered without hesitation ; " If we had taken thee
BOOK XIV. THE AMERICAN WAR. 383
we should have buried, with every mark of honor, that of thy legs,
which was wounded when thou wast in our service ; the rest of thy
body we should have hanged."
On hearing of the danger which had menaced Arnold, genera]
Clinton doubted the generals of congress might be more happy in a
second attempt. He therefore immediately dispatched a re-inforce-
ment of two thousand men, under the conduct of general Phillips.
His junction with Arnold put them in condition to resume the
offensive ; and their inroads into Virginia were again signalized by
devastation and pillage. At Osborn, they destroyed a great number
of vessels, rich magazines of merchandise, and principally of tobacco.
The baron Steuben, who commanded the republicans, found himself
too weak to resist. Fortunately, the marquis de la Fayette arrived
in time to save the opulent city of Richmond. There, however, he
was forced to witness the conflagration of Manchester, a town situated
opposite to Richmond, upon the right bank of the James river.
The English were pleased to burn it without any necessity. But
soon this partisan war was directed towards a single and determinate
object. General Phillips had received intelligence that lord Corn-
wallis approached, and that he was already on the point of arriving
at Petersburgh. M. de la Fayette was advised of it likewise.
Both, accordingly, exerted themselves to reach Petersburgh before
the troops that were advancing from Carolina ; the one to join Corn-
wallis, the other to prevent this junction. The English outstripped
their adversaries, and occupied that little city. There general
Phillips was carried off by a malignant fever ; his military talents
rendered his loss peculiarly painful to his party.
After a march of three hundred miles, in the midst of difficulties
of every sort, lord Cornwallis at length arrived at Petersburgh,
where he took the general command of all the British forces. The
establishment of the seat of war in Virginia, coincided perfectly with
the designs which the British ministers had formed upon this prov-
ince. As soon as they were informed of the victory of Guildford,
they had persuaded themselves that the two Carolinas were e ntirely
reduced under the authority of the king, and that little else remained
to be done, besides re-organizing in them the accustomed civil admin
istration. They had not the least doubt that wise regulations would
consummate the work, which the arms of Cornwallis had so happily
commenced. They built, with particular confidence, on the support,
of the loyalists. Notwithstanding so many fatal experiments, so
many abortive hopes, they still eagerly listened to all the illusions,
and to all the news spread by the refugees, so unavoidably impelled
by their position to cherish the wildest chimeras. The British
3-4 THE AMERICAN WAR. BOOK XIV.
government therefore expected that the co-operation of the loyalists,
a few garrisons left in the most important posts, together with the
terror of the arms of Cornwallis, would suffice to curb the patriots,
and to confirm the submission of these provinces. As to Virginia,
intersected by a great number of broad and deep rivers, whose
mouths form upon its coasts several gulfs or bays suitable for anchor-
age, the naval forces sent thither by Rodney from the West Indies,
seemed to guaranty the naval superiority of England in those wa-
ters. Accordingly, the ministers never allowed themselves to doubt,
that if this province could not be entirely reduced, it would at least
be very easy to press it and waste it to such a degree that its utility
should cease for the American union. They had therefore decided
that the commanders of the land forces should make choice of an
advantageous position upon the coasts of Virginia, and that they
should secure the possession of it by fortifications capable of repel-
ling all attacks of the enemy. This measure and the presumed
superiority of the British marine, appeared to the cabinet of St.
James a sure pledge of the entire subjugation of Virginia ; and
for the reasons already stated, it felt perfectly assured of the posses-
sion of the two Carolinas, as also of Georgia. It was deemed the
more certain that nothing was to be feared from the French squad-
rons, as the coasts of these vast provinces are nearly without ports,
and since the few they offer were in the power of the royal troops.
Finding themselves thus already masters of four rich provinces in the
south, as well as of that of New York, inestimable alike for its
resources, and for its ports, the ministers persuaded themselves that
the moment could not be distant when the Americans would yield
through weariness and exhaustion. They felicitated themselves that,
at all events, they were able to resume the offensive.
Such were the reasonings at London ; but it was not known there
that the British fleets, instead of having the advantage in point ol
force, were decidedly inferior in the American seas ; that the Caro-
linas, instead of being in the power of the king, were returned
almost totally under that of the congress ; and that although Corn-
wallis was indeed arrived in Virginia, he had shown himself there,
notwithstanding his success at Guildford, rather as vanquished than
victor.
Meanwhile, Cornwallis, after having staid a few days at Peters-
burgh, where he was re-inforced by some hundred soldiers, sent him
from New York by Clinton, took a resolution to cross the river James,
and penetrate into the interior of Virginia. He had little apprehen-
sion of meeting American troops ; supposing them both too weak
and too much dispersed to attempt resistance. In effect, the baron
THE AMERICAN WAR.
3 upper parts of the province, the marquis de la
<ie districts, and general Wayne, who was on the
gular troops of Pennsylvania, was still at a great
Jritish general therefore crossed the river without
£ Kfestover ; the marquis de la Fayette had retired behind
Q 5 ftiny. Thence Cornwallis detached a corps which
2 smouth. The loyalists, or those who wished to appear
p- J to that city in order to give in their paroles and
ections. The county of Hanover was entirely overrun
j;ers of the British army. Lord Cornwallis was informed,
time, that many of the most considerable men of the
ere assembled in convention at Charlotteville, to regulate
, of the province ; and that the baron Steuben was posted.
>int of Fork, situated at the junction of the rivers James
ana. The Americans had established at this place maga-
Q arms and munitions of war. These advices, added to the
[ ration that this part of the territory, not having yet been the
£ of war, was likely to abound in every kind of supplies, deter-
I lord Cornwallis to attempt, first of all, the expeditions of.
|®tteville and the Point of Fork. He committed the first to
>n, the second to Simcoe. Both were crowned with success,
t, by the rapidity of his march, arrived so unexpectedly upon,
that he seized a great number of deputies, and made himself
of a considerable quantity of warlike stores and provision*
personage whom he had it most at heart to secure, was one
who escaped him, and that was Thomas Jefferson, since.
f r* | t of the United States ; having had the good fortune to be.
" J\jL iprised of the approach of the British troops, he put.himself
y 1^ ieir reach ; not, however, without having first, with extreme
- d the assistance of his neighbors, provided for the safety of
quantity of arms and ammunition. If Tarleton. had .some-
* \nplained of the too great benignity of his comrades, no oney
, could make him the same reproach. His rapacity and
I * ice no longer observed any bounds ; nothing was sacred in
§ I nothing escaped his barbarous hands. Simcoe, on his part,
'd with equal celerity against the baron Steuben. That
^ight have made a vigorous resistance ; it is not known what
have decided him to a precipitate retreat; and yet he
ible to protect his rear guard against the pursuit ol the Brit-
reached it, and cut a part of it in pieces. When the
Tarleton and Simcoe were returned to camp, lord Corn-
.raversing a rich and fertile country, marched upon Rich-
and, a little after, upon Williamsburghj the capital of Virginia.
uu. n. 25
!l
384 THE AMERICAN WAR.
government therefore expected that the co-opera
a few garrisons left in the most important posts,
terror of the arms of Cornwallis, would suffice to c
and to confirm the submission of these provinces,
intersected by a great number of broad and deep
mouths form upon its coasts several gulfs or bays suital
age, the naval forces sent thither by Rodney from the
seemed to guaranty the naval superiority of England i
ters. Accordingly, the ministers never allowed themselvt
that if this province could not be entirely reduced, it WOL
be very easy to press it and waste it to such a degree tha\
should cease for the American union. They had therefor^
that the commanders of the land forces should make cho?
advantageous position upon the coasts of Virginia, and ti
should secure the possession of it by fortifications capable o.
ling all attacks of the enemy. This measure and the prt
superiority of the British marine, appeared to the cabinet
James a sure pledge of the entire subjugation of Virginia
for the reasons already stated, it felt perfectly assured of the p
sion of the two Carolinas, as also of Georgia. It was deeme
more certain that nothing was to be feared from the French :
rons, as the coasts of these vast provinces are nearly without
and since the few they offer were in the power of the royal 1
Finding themselves thus already masters of four rich provinces
south, as well as of that of New York, inestimable alike
resources, and for its ports, the ministers persuaded themsel
the moment could not be distant when the Americans wou
through weariness and exhaustion. They felicitated themseh
at all events, they were able to resume the offensive.
Such were the reasonings at London ; but it was not knov
that the British fleets, instead of having the advantage in
force, were decidedly inferior in the American seas ; that t\
Unas, instead of being in the power of the king, were
almost totally under that of the congress ; and that althou^
wallis was indeed arrived in Virginia, he had shown hims<
notwithstanding his success at Guildford, rather as vanquis
victor.
Meanwhile, Cornwallis, after having staid a few days at
burgh, where he was re-inforced by some hundred soldiers,
from New York by Clinton, took a resolution to cross the rive
and penetrate into the interior of Virginia. He had little ap,
sion of meeting American troops ; supposing them both to>
and too much dispersed to attempt resistance. In effect, the
BOOK XIV. THE AMERICAN WAR. 385
Steuben occupied the upper parts of the province, the marquis de la
Fayette, the maritime districts, and general Wayne, who was on the
march with the regular troops of Pennsylvania, was still at a great
distance. The British general therefore crossed the river without
opposition at Westover ; the marquis de la Fayette had retired behind
the Chickahominy. Thence Cornwallis detached a corps which
occupied Portsmouth. The loyalists, or those who wished to appear
such, repaired to that city in order to give in their paroles and
receive protections. The county of Hanover was entirely overrun
by the foragers of the British army. Lord Cornwallis was informed,
about this time, that many of the most considerable men of the
country were assembled in convention at Charlotte ville, to regulate
the affairs of the province ; and that the baron Steuben was posted,
at the Point of Fork, situated at the junction of the rivers James
and Rivana. The Americans had established at this place maga-
zines of arms and munitions of war. These advices, added to the
consideration that this part of the territory, not having yet been the
theatre of war, was likely to abound in every kind of supplies, deter-
mined lord Cornwallis to attempt, first of all, the expeditions of
Charlotte ville and the Point of Fork. He committed the first to
Tarleton, the second to Simcoe. Both were crowned with success.
The first, by the rapidity of his march, arrived so unexpectedly upon-
the city that he seized a great number of deputies, and made himself
master of a considerable quantity of warlike stores and provision.
But the personage whom he had it most at heart to secure, was one
of those who escaped him, and that was Thomas Jefferson, since,
president of the United States ; having had the good fortune to be.
timely apprised of the approach of the British troops, he put.himself
out of their reach ; not, however, without having first, with extreme
pains and the assistance of his neighbors, provided for the safety of
no small quantity of arms and ammunition. If Tarleton had some-
limes complained of the too great benignity of his comrades, no one,
assuredly, could make him the same reproach. His rapacity and
imprudence no longer observed any bounds ; nothing was sacred in
his sight, nothing escaped his barbarous hands. Simcoe, on his part,
hud moved with equal celerity against the baron Steuben. That
general might have made a vigorous resistance ; it is not known what
motive could have decided him to a precipitate retreat; and yet he
was not able to protect his rear guard against the pursuit oi the Brit-
ish, who reached it, and cut a part of it in pieces. When the
colonels Tarleton and Simcoe were returned to camp, lord Corn-
wallis, traversing a rich and fertile country, marched upon Rich-
mond, and, a little after, upon Williamsburgh, the capital of Virginia.
VOL,, ii. 25
BOOK XIV.
386 THE AMERICAN WAR.
His light troops, however, could no longer forage at large ; the
marquis de la Fayette had joined the baron Steuben, and having
been re-inforced by the Pennsylvania regiments of general Wayne,
he found himself in a situation to watch all the movements of the
British army, and to cut off the parties that ventured to stray from
it. Cornwallis received at this same time orders from general Clin-
ton, requiring him to re-embark a part of his troops for New York
Not that Clinton meditated any important stroke ; but he had been
advised of the approach of the allies, and he expected to see the
storm burst upon his head. He feared at the same time for New
York, Staten Island, and Long Island ; his force was not sufficient
for their defense. In order to obey, Cornwallis marched his troops
towards the banks of the James river. He intended, after having
passed it, to repair to Portsmouth, where he would have embarked
the corps destined for New York. But as M. de la Fayette follow-
ed him extremely close, he found himself constrained to make a halt
upon the left bank of the river, and to take possession of a strong
position, in order to repress the impetuosity of his adversary, and
give time to his troops for passing the artillery, munitions and bag-
gage to the other side. He encamped therefore along the river,
having his right covered by a pond, and the centre and left by
swamps.
Meanwhile, the American vanguard, commanded by general
Wayne, had advanced very near. The English dispatched spies
among the Americans, in order to make them believe that the bulk
of the royal army had already passed to the right bank, and that
only a feeble rear guard remained upon the left, consisting of the
British legion and some detachments of infantry. Whether the
republicans allowed themselves to be caught in this snare, or that
they were hurried away by an inconsiderate valor, they fell with
great fury upon the royal troops. Already the regular regiments of
Pennsylvania, led by general Wayne, had passed the swamp, and
fiercely assailed the left wing of the royalists ; and notwithstanding
the great superiority of the enemy, the assailants appeared nowise
daunted. But the English, having passed the pond, advanced against
the left wing, which consisted entirely of militia. Having dispersed
it without difficulty, they showed themselves upon the left flank of
Wayne. At the same time, extending their own left beyond the
swamp, they had turned his right, and manifested an intention of
surrounding him on every side. The marquis de la Fayette per-
-ceived this maneuver, and immediately directed Wayne to fall back.
He was unable to execute this movement without leaving two pieces
of cannon in the power of the enemy M. de la Fayette remained
BOOR XIV. THE AMERICAN WAR. 387
some time at Green Springs, in order to collect the scattered soldiers.
Cornwallis re-entered his intrenchments. The approach of night,
and the nature of the country, broken with woods and marshes, pre-
vented him from pursuing the Americans. The next morning before
sunrise, he detached his cavalry upon the route taken by the marquis
de la Fayette, with orders to hang upon his rear, and harass him as
much as possible. All the harm it did him, consisted in the taking
of a few soldiers who had lagged behind. It is presumable, that if
Cornwallis had advanced the following day with all his force, he might
have cut off the republicans entirely. But all his views were directed
towards Portsmouth, in order to embark the troops there which Clin-
ton expected at New York. When he had passed the river James
with his whole army, he accordingly hastened to Portsmouth ; but
upon a strict examination of places, he was convinced that they did
not offer him a position suitable by its strength and other advantages
to favor the ulterior designs of Clinton. He proceeded, however, with
•diligence to embark the troops. In the meantime, he received new
instructions from Clinton, directing him to return to Williamsburgh,
to retain all the troops he had with him, and instead of Portsmouth,
to make his place of arms of Point Comfort, in order to have, in any
event, a secure retreat.
Two principal causes had determined general Clinton to embrace
this new resolution ; he had received from Europe a re-inforcemenf
of three thousand Germans ; and he was influenced, besides, by a
desire to open himself a passage by way of Hampton and the James
river, towards that fertile and populous part of Virginia which lies
between the James and York rivers. But Point Comfort, on attentive
examination, was found an equally unfavorable and defective position
for an intrenched camp, and no less incompetent than Portsmouth
for the purposes in view. It was therefore determined to relinquish
the design of fortifying it. The plan of future operations requiring,
however, the occupation of a fixed point in the country comprehend-
ed by the above mentioned rii ers, lord Cornwallis resolved to repass
the river James with all his a rmy, and take up his head-quarters at
Yorktown. The marquis de la Fayette was desirous to oppose his
passage ; but the Americans that were in his camp would not con-
sent to march lower down towards Portsmouth. \
Yorktown is a village situ-ited upon the right bank of the river
York, and opposite to anothe r smaller town called Gloucester. The
latter is built upon a point of land which projects into the river from
the left side, and which considerably diminishes the breadth of its
channel. The water is deep there, and capable of receiving the largest
ships of war On the right of Yorktown flows a marshy stream ; in
388 THE AMERICAN WAR. BOOK XIV
front of the place, for the distance of a mile, the ground is open and
level. In advance of this plain is a wood, whose left extends to the
river, and whose right is bordered by a creek. Beyond the wood
the country is champaign and cultivated. Cornwallis applied his
attention to intrench himself in the strongest possible manner upon
this ground.
After the affair of Jamestown, the marquis de la Fayette had
retired between the rivers Mattapony and Pamonky, the waters of
which, united, compose the York river. Upon intelligence of the
new position taken by Cornwallis, he re-crossed the Pamonky, and
took post in the county of New Kent ; not that he intended to attack
the English ; his force did not admit of it ; but he was disposed, at
least, to harass them, to repress their excursions, and to prevent
their foraging in the country. Washington had intrusted M. de la
Fayette with the charge of defending Virginia ; he acquitted him-
self of it in the most satisfactory manner ; sometimes by his maneu-
vers holding Cornwallis in check, and sometimes combating him with
vigor, he at length conducted him to a place, where he might hope
to be seconded by the powerful French fleet that was expected upon
the American coast.
Hitherto the campaign of Virginia had presented no inconsidera-
ble vicissitude of events ; but all equally destitute of importance.
The scene was changed ; and the plan which tended, by a decisive
stroke, to put an end to the whole American war, drew day by day
more near to its accomplishment. The American government was
informed that the count de Grasse, with his fleet and a body of land
troops, was about to arrive. It therefore neglected no dispositions
that were demanded by the occasion, in order to be in a situation to
profit of the great superiority which the allies were soon to have,
as well by land as by sea. To this end, Washington and Rocham-
beau had an interview at Wethersfield. The count de Barras, who
commanded the French squadron at anchor in Rhode Island, was
likewise to have been present at the conference, but was detained by
other duties. The siege of New York was resolved upon between
the two generals. They agreed, that it was necessary to wrest from
the English that shelter, which, from the commencement of hostilities
to the present hour, had been so favorable to their enterprises.
From that day, all the movements of the French and Americans
were directed towards this object. They had calculated them in
such a manner as that the appearance of the count de Grasse upon
the American coasts, should be the signal for commencing the siege.
Clinton so dreaded the blow, that solely on this account he had
determined, as we have seen, to recall a part of the tioops of Corn-
BOOK XIV. THE AMERICAN WAR. 389
wallis, prior to the arrival of the German corps. Washington cher-
ished good hope of success in the expedition of New York ; he felt
assured that the states of the Union, particularly those of the north,
would promptly satisfy the requisitions which had been made them,
to furnish each a determinate number of soldiers. But they had
accomplished only in part the desires of the commander-in-chief.
Instead of twelve or fifteen thousand continental troops that he had
hoped to assemble for an operation of this importance, he found him-
self at the head of only four or five thousand regulars, and about an
equal number of militia. It was. however, to be considered, that the
conquest of New York would require great efforts, since general
Clinton had a garrison there of more than ten thousand men. The
enterprise could hot reasonably be undertaken with so inadequate a
force. Moreover, the count de Grasse had declared that, in conse-
quence of the orders of his sovereign, and of the convention he had
made with the Spaniards in the West Indies, it would not be possible
for him to remain upon the coast of America later than the middle
of October ; and assuredly so short a space of time would not have
sufficed for the reduction of New York. Finally, it was known that
sea officers in general, and especially the French, had no little repug-
nance to crossing the bar which lies at the entrance of the harbor of
that city. All these considerations diverted Washington from his
purpose of besieging New York. He reflected, that although his
army was too weak for that enterprise, it was nevertheless sufficient
to act with great probability of success against Cornwallis in Vir-
ginia ; and he accordingly decided for the more attainable object.
But the movements he had already made, having given jealousy to
Clinton for New York, he resolved, notwithstanding that he had
changed his plan, to nourish the suspicions of his adversary by a
series of the most spirited demonstrations ; to the end that he might
not penetrate his real design, and throw obstacles in its way. In
order to lead him more speciously into the snare, he wrote letters to
the southern commanders and to members of the government, inform-
ing them of his determination to attack New York. He sent these
dispatches by such ways as he knew would expose them to be inter-
cepted by the enemy. The stratagem succeeded perfectly. Clin-
ton, full of apprehension for a city which had become his place of
arms, was indefatigable in multiplying its defenses. In the mean-
time the count de Rocharnbeau had set out from Rhode Island, at
the head of five thousand French, and was already advanced near
the borders of the Hudson. Washington broke up his camp at
New Windsor, and went to meet him upon the eastern bank. After
their junction, the combined armies encamped at Phihpsburgh, in a
390 THE AMERICAN WAR. BOOK XIT.
situation to overawe Kingsbridge and the adjoining posts, and even
to alarm the island of New York. They afterwards actually took
post at Kingsbridge, and continued to insult the British outposts on
all sides. Not content with these demonstrations, the principal
officers of both armies, attended by the engineers, reconnoitered the
island of New York closely on both sides from the opposite shores ;
and to render appearances the more serious, took plans of all the
works under the fire of their batteries. At the same time, a report
of the expected daily arrival of the count de Grasse was sedulously
propagated ; and to give it full confirmation, when they had received
advices from that commander of the time at which he hoped to
arrive at the Chesapeake, the French troops advanced towards
Sandy Hook, and the coasts opposite Staten Islandj with an apparent
view of seconding the operations of the fleet, in forcing the one and
seizing upon the other. This deception was carried so far, as to
the establishment of a' bakery near the mouth of the Rariton, and
just within the Hook.
According to these different movements of the combined army,
general Clinton no longer doubted but that New York was menaced
with an immediate attack. But the time was now at hand, when
this bandage, which had been drawn with so much address over the
eyes of the British commander, was ready to fall, and admit him to
a clear view of the truth. When Washington had authentic intelli-
gence that the count de Grasse was no longer far from the Chesa-
peake, he suddenly passed the Croton, then the Hudson ; and
proceeded by forced marches through New Jersey to Trenton upon
the Delaware. He gave out, however, and even persuaded the
British general by his demonstrations, that his only object was to
draw him out of New York, in order to fight him in the open field
with superior forces. Clinton, thinking to defeat one shrewd turn
by another, remained behind his walls ; but the American general-
issimo, having at length received advice that the French fleet was in
sight of the coasts, no longer delayed to cross the Delaware. He
marched with extreme celerity across Pennsylvania, and appeared
all of a sudden at the head of Elk, upon the northern extremity of
the Chesapeake bay. An hour after, so admirably had the operations
been concerted, or rather by the most fortunate accident, the count
de Grasse entered into the bay the twenty-eighth of August, with
twenty-five sail of the line ; and no sooner was he arrived than he
set himself to execute the plan agreed upon. He blocked up the
mouths of the two rivers of York and James. By making himself
master of the first, he cut off all maritime correspondence between
Cornwallis and New York ; by the occupation of the second, he
BOOK XIV. THE AMERICAN WAR. 391
opened a communication with the marquis de la Fayette, who had
already descended as far as Williamsburgh. His position had occa-
sioned at first some disquietude. It was feared lest Cornwallis,
perceiving at length the circle that was traced around him, might
profit of the superiority that he still had over the marquis, to fall
upon him, overwhelm him, and thus escape into the Carolinas. Not
a moment was lost in preventing so fatal a stroke ; three thousand
French troops embarked in light boats, and, commanded by the
marquis de St. Simon, ascended the James river, and made their
junction with the marquis de la Fayette ; he had established his
head-quarters at Williamsburgh. The English had already much
increased the fortifications of Yorktown, and were still at work on
them with indefatigable industry. The allies had therefore to
expect a siege in form ; and a powerful train of heavy artillery was
indispensably necessary. Three days before the arrival of M. de
Grasse in the Chesapeake, the count de Barras had made sail from
Rhode Island with four ships of the line and some frigates or cor-
vettes ; he had embarked whatever implements of siege he had
been able to collect. But he was not ignorant that a numerous
British squadron lay in the port of New York, and he was sensible
that the succor with which he was charged could not be intercept-
ed without destroying all hope of success. He had therefore stood
far out to sea, and, after reaching the waters of the Bahama islands,
had shaped his course for the Chesapeake. Admiral Hood had
appeared at the entrance of that bay, with fourteen sail of the line,
the very day on which the count de Grasse had arrived there ; dis-
appointed at not finding admiral Graves, whom he had counted upon
meeting in those waters, he immediately dispatched a swift-sailing
frigate to apprise him of his arrival, and proceeded, without loss of
time, to join him with althis fleet at Sandy Hook. Admiral Graves,
as we have already seen, had received no previous notice whatever
of the intended approach of Hood. His ships also had suffered
extremely by violent gales of wind, during his cruise in the waters of
Boston, and were entirely out of condition to put to sea. The chiet
command having devolved on him, as senior officer, the moment he
was informed that the count de Barras had set sail from Rhode
Island, he had pushed the reparation of his fleet with so much activ-
ity, that by the last day of August it was again fitted for sea. Al
the head of nineteen sail of the line, he set sail for the Chesapeake,
which he hoped to gain before the count de Barras. It appears, that
he was still in total ignorance of the arrival of the count de Grasse
in that bay. As soon as the British admiral had made Cape Henry,
he discovered the French fleet, which consisted at that moment of
392 THE AMERICAN WAR. BOOK XIV
twenty-four sail of the line. It extended from the cape to the bank
called" the Middle Ground. Notwithstanding he had five ships less
than his adversary, Graves prepared himself instantly for action. On
the other hand, the count de Grasse, at sight of the British fleet,
slipped his cables with admirable promptitude, and, full of confi-
dence in victory, advanced with press of sail to encounter the enemy.
The intention of the English was to engage as close an action as
possible. They perceived how fatal an influence the loss of so im-
portant an occasion might have upon the success of the British arms,
and even upon the issue of the war. A total defeat would scarcely
have been more prejudicial to the interests of England than a loose
and indecisive battle. It left the French masters of the Chesapeake,
and lord Cornwallis still exposed to the same perils. But the count
de Grasse, sensible of his advantages, would not commit to the
caprices of fortune the decision of events, which he considered him-
self as already certain of controlling. This prudent course seemed
also to be prescribed him by the absence of fifteen hundred of his
seamen, who were then employed in conveying M. de St. Simon's
troops up the river James ; and the British fleet made its appear-
ance so suddenly, that there was no time for recalling them. The
count de Grasse wished only to arrest the enemy by partial and
distant collisions, long enough to cover the arrival of the count de
Barras.
With these opposite intentions the two admirals advanced the one
against the other. The engagement soon became extremely warm
between their vans ; some ships of the center also took part in it.
The French, who were not willing that the action should become
too general, drew off their vanguard, which had already suffered
severely. The approach of night, and the nearness of hostile shores-,
dissuaded the British admiral from the resolution of renewing the
engagement. His own van had likewise been very roughly treated.
The ships most damaged were the Shrewsbury, the Montague, the
Ajax, the Intrepid, and the Terrible. The latter was so shattered
and torn, that the water gained upon all the efforts of her pumps ; she
was burnt by order of admiral Graves. The English lost in this
action, in killed and wounded, three hundred and thirty-six sailors
and marines ; the French little more than two hundred.
The hostile fleets continued for four successive days, partly repair-
ing their damages, and partly maneuvering in sight of each other ; but
the French having generally maintained the wind, and their motives
for not engaging a general affair remaining always the same, the
battle was not renewed. When at length the count de Grasse had
advice tbat the count de Barras was entered sound and safe into tho
BOOK XIV. THE AMERICAN WAR. 303
Chesapeake, with his squadron and convoy, he retired from the open
sea and came to anchor in the interior of the bay. Fortune showed
herself in every thing adverse to the English. They had endeavored
to profit of the absence of the count de Grasse, to transmit dispatches
to lord Cornwallis, by the frigates Isis and Richmond ; they could
not accomplish their mission, and both fell into the power of the
French.
Admiral Graves, seeing the disastrous condition of his fleet, the sea
becoming daily more tempestuous, and his hopes of intercepting the
convoy of M. de Barras entirely foiled, had, a few days after,
returned to New York. The French, becoming thus entirely mas-
ters of the bay, disembarked, in the first place, the artillery and
munitions of war which they had brought from Rhode Island, and
then employed the transports, with the frigates and light vessels of the
fleet, in conveying the army of Washington from Annapolis to the
mouth of James river, and thence to Williamsburgh. At the head
of Elk, the combined army had not been able to collect shipping
enough for this passage.
Thus Cornwallis found himself restricted to the.place he occupied.
By an admirable concurrence of well concerted operations, and of
circumstances the most auspicious to his adversaries, his troops, still
seven thousand strong, were surrounded on every side. An army of
twenty thousand combatants, of which only a fifth part were militia,
invested Yorktown upon every point on the side of the land, while a
fleet of near thirty sail of the line, and a multitude of light vessels,
stationed at the mouths of the rivers James and York, rendered ;he
blockade of the place as complete as possible. The head-quarters
of the combined army had been established at first in Williamsburgh,
a city which is only a few miles distant from Yorktown. Care had
been taken, however, to detach a considerable corps, consisting
mostly of cavalry, under the conduct of M. de Choisy and general
Wieden, to encamp on the left bank of the York, before the village
of Gloucester, in order to prevent the English from issuing thence to
forage. The French had taken post before Yorktown, on the left of
the camp, extending from the river above the town to the morass in
the center, where they were met by the Americans, who occupied
the right from the river to that spot.
General Clinton had it very much at heart to extricate Cornwallis ;
and in consequence, while admiral Graves was under sail for the
Chesapeake, had meditated a diversion in Connecticut. He hoped,
by insulting that province, to draw thither a part of the American
forces ; knowing but too well that if they were left at liberty to push
the siege of Yorktown, the blockaded armv must inevitably surrender
394 THE AMERICAN WAR. BOOK XIV.
The principal object of this expedition was to seize New London, a
rich and flourishing town, situated upon the New Thames. The
command of it was given to Arnold, who had just returned to New
York from his inroad into Virginia.
The access of the port of New London was rendered difficult by
two forts erected upon the opposite banks ; one called fort Trurn-
bull, the other Griswold. The royalists, having disembarked, unex-
pectedly, at daybreak, carried the first without much effort j but the
second made a vigorous resistance. Colonel Ledyard had promptly
thi own himself into it with a body of militia, and the work itself was
very strong, consisting in a walled square with flanks. The royal
troops nevertheless attacked with extreme vigor and gallantry ; they
were received with no less bravery and resolution. After a very
heavy fire on both sides, the English, with the utmost difficulty and
severe loss, effected a lodgment upon the fraizing, and at length made
their way good, with fixed bayonets, through the embrasures, not
withstanding the fierce defense made by the garrison, who, now
changing their weapons, fought desperately hand to hand with long
spears. The assailants, when finally masters of the place, massacred
as well those who surrendered as those who resisted. The town of
New London itself was laid in ashes ; it is not known whether by
design or chance. A great number of vessels, richly laden, fell into
the power of Arnold. This first success obtained, the English, seeing
no movement made in their favor, and observing, on the contrary, the
most menacing dispositions among the inhabitants, decided for retreat,
It was signalized by the most horrible devastations. This expedition
tvas, on their part, but a piratical inroad, absolutely without utility.
In vain did they endeavor to make a great noise with their inarch,
and their bloody executions in Connecticut ; Washington scarcely
deigned to notice it. Unshaken in his prior designs, he knew per-
fectly that whoever should triumph at Yorktown would have decided
the whole of this campaign in his favor. Instead, therefore, of send-
ing troops into Connecticut, he drew them all into Virginia.
Of the two attempts made to succor Cornwallis, the naval battle,
and the diversion against New London, neither had obtained its
object. Clinton assembled all the principal officers of his army in
council, in order to take their opinion upon the most prudent course
to be pursued in the present circumstances. Admiral Digby had
just arrived from Europe at New York, with three ships of the line,
another ship of the same force, and several frigates had also repaired
thither from the West Indies. And although, notwithstanding these
different re-mforcements, the British fleet was still inferior to that ol
France, yet the pressure of the peril, and the importance of the con-
BOOK XIV. THE AMERICAN WAR. 395
t; tincture, determined the British commanders to put to sea, and
hasten to the relief of the besieged army. They would have wished
not to defer an instant the execution of their resolution ; but the
refitting of the ships damaged in the late engagement, constrained
them to wait. They hoped, however, that nothing would detain
them later than the fifth of October. This is what Clinton announced
to Cornwallis in a dispatch written in ciphers, which, notwithstand-
ing the extreme vigilance of the besiegers, reached him the twenty-
ninth of September. This letter made such an impression upon the
mind of Cornwallis, that he abandoned all his outposts and defenses,
and withdrew entirely within the works of the place. This resolu-
tion has been much censured by experienced military men ; and
some even of the superior officers of the garrison, opposed it openly.
Though the general-in-chief wrote that he had every reason to hope
his re-inforcements would set sail from New York the fifth of Octo-
ber, should not Cornwallis have reflected that a multitude of unfore-
seen causes might derange this plan ; in a word, that of all human
enterprises, maritime expeditions are the most exposed to the acci-
dents of fortune ? All his cares, all his efforts, should therefore have
tended to prolong his defense ; and the outer works afforded him
the means for it. They were sufficiently strong; nothing had been
neglected in that respect, and the troops were numerous enough to
man them suitably. Is it possible, therefore, not to disapprove the
determination taken by Cornwallis to crowd his army into a town, or
rather into an intrenched camp, the works of which were still imper-
fect? Except, perhaps, upon the declivity of the hill towards the
river, the British troops were exposed on all sides to be raked by the
artillery of the enemy.
It may be presumed that in contracting his defenses, the British
general flattered himself this apparent indication of fear would re-
double the temerity of the French, and that by rushing immediately
to the assault, they would place in his hands a certain and decisive
victory. But Washington was as prudent as intrepid ; and the
French generals, in those distant regions, showed themselves with
icason extremely sparing of the blood of the:r soldiers. An unani-
mous sentiment, moreover, repulsed every measure that could render
doubtful an enterprise having such fair pretensions to be considered
as certain. It was therefore resolved to open trenches, and to cany
on the siege in form, before attempting any attack with open loiee
against the body of the place.
Yorktown, as we have already said, is situated upon the right bank
of the river York. Its narrow circuit now comprised the definitive
fate of all the war. The English had surrounded it with fortifications
BOOK XIV.
3% THE AMERICAN WAR.
of different kinds. On the right or upper part, they had walled it
with a chain of redoubts, curtained one to another by a parapet and
palisade. The redoubts were fraized and palisaded, and were
covered besides by abattis and breastworks. A morassy ravine
extended along the front of these works. The besieged had erected
upon it another large redoubt with palisades and ditch ; this was the
strongest side of the place. In front, that is, in the center of the
circuit of the place, before which the morass became inundated, the
defenses consisted in a line of strong palisades, and in batteries which
commanded the dikes over which it was necessary to cross the ravine.
Upon the left flank of this front had been constructed a horn work,
in like manner defended by a ditch and palisade ; and although not
yet entirely completed, it was in such forwardness as already to have
opened several embrasures. As to the left, or lower part, it was
likewise fortified with redoubts and batteries interlinked by an
earthen parapet. Two other smaller, and not yet finished redoubts,
had been erected at a certain distance without towards the country,
in order the more effectually to cover this side, against which it was
presumed the principal attack would be directed. The adjacent
groujid was flat, or furrowed by ravines, and consequently favorable
to the besiegers. The space comprised within the fortifications was
extremely circumscribed, and afforded no safety to the garrison.
Upon the opposite side of the river, the village of Gloucester had been
surrounded with earthen works, furnished with artillery where the
position admitted ; but these works were of little importance. The
trenches were opened by the allied armies in the night, between the
sixth and seventh of October. Notwithstanding the violent fire of
the besieged, they pushed their works with so much perseverance,
that soon they had completed their first parallel, erected the batteries,
and covered them with little less than a hundred pieces of heavy
ordnance. The thickest walls could not have withstood the shock of
so heavy a fire, much less those of Yorktown, which were not com
pleted. So far were they from that state, that the British troops were
not less employed in their construction under the fire of the enemy,
Uian they were in their defense. In a few days most of their guns
were silenced, their defenses in many places ruined, and the shells
reached even the ships in the harbor, where the Charon of forty-four
guns, with some of the transports, were burnt. It was manifest that
valor was impotent against so formidable means of attack, and, conse-
quently, that the defensecould not be of long duration. The artillery
of the Americans was commanded by general Knox, who in this siege,
as in all the other actions of the war, displayed the talents of a
consummate engineer. He had formed his cannoniers with such
BOOK XIV. THE AMERICAN WAR. 397
success, that the French themselves were astonished at the precision
of tneir maneuvers.
In the midst of so many perils, Cornwallis received a dispatch from
Clinton, which held out the hope that if the winds and unforeseen
accidents did not prevent, the relief would sail from New York the
twelfth of October. He reminded him, however, that a plan of this
nature was subject to a thousand unlucky casualties ; that he wished,
therefore, to be informed if it was deemed possible to hold out till
the middle of November ; his intention, in the contrary case, bein£
to march himself by way of the land, and to fall upon Philadelphia.
He could not, doubtless, have undertaken a more efficacious diver-
sion in favor of the besieged. Such were the formal promises of
general Clinton to lord Cornwallis. How, it may be asked, could
the English have deceived themselves so grossly with respect to the
time necessary for the reparation of their ships, that instead of de-
parting from New York the fifth of October, as they had announced,
they did not make sail until the nineteenth ? This miscalculation
seems difficult to be accounted for. It is certain only that the
promise of succors, and their unexpected delay, occasioned the loss
of the army. In the firm expectation of being soon relieved, Corn-
wallis persisted in his defense, and thus abstained from resorting to
the means of safety that were in his power. If it be just to acknowl-
edge a motive of excuse for his conduct in the first letter, by which
Clinton assured him that the fleet would set sail the fifth of October,
it will still remain very difficult to justify the resolution to which he
adhered, when he had been apprised by a second dispatch, that the
squadron could not put to sea until the twelfth, a dispatch which left
room for doubts even with respect to that. Among the principal
officers of the garrison commanded by lord Cornwallis, there
were not wanting those who advised him to evacuate a place
so Tittle susceptible of a long defense, and to transport his army
suddenly to the left side of the river, where there was still left
him a way to escape from the fate that menaced him. They urged
him to withdraw in the night to Gloucester with the greater part of
his army. This passage might be effected easily with the shipping
that lay in the harbor. The superiority of force, and the surprise oi
an unexpected attack, precluded all doubt of their being able to dis-
perse the corps of M. de Choisy, who invested Gloucester. The
British army would thus find itself in that fertile country which is
situated between the York and the Rappahanock. Not having yet
been made the seat of war, it was sure to afford horses and provision
in abundance. By forced marches it would be possible to gain an
hundred miles upon the enemy, and to protect the retreat by a rear
398 THE AMERICAN WAR. BOOK XIV.
guard of three thousand picked men, both infantry and cavalry
Once masters of the country beyond the York, they would be at
liberty to march upon Philadelphia, and there join general Clinton
who would have repaired thither through New Jersey, or to bend
their course towards the Carolinas, keeping the upper route, in order
to pass the rivers above the points where they divide into several
branches. Either of these ways offered some hope of safety, since
Washington, for want of shipping, would not be able to cross the
river soon enough to follow the British army ; and not knowing the
direction it would have taken, he would be obliged to divide his
troops into several detachments. And even in the supposition that
he was apprised in time of their march, his pursuit would not be
prompt enough to come up with them ; since lodgings and subsist-
ence for so numerous an army must necessarily fail him. ' By
remaining here,' added the partisans of this opinion, ' we devote
ourselves to certain destruction ; by opening ourselves a passage, we
may yet find safety. We shall, in any event, have the consolation of
thinking that so magnanimous an attempt will shed new lustre upon
the arms of the king. If it is fated that so gallant an army cannot
escape captivity, let this not be till after it has exerted its utmost
force to avert it, and after having acquired an honored name and
bright fame among the brave ! '
Lord Cornwallis, whatever might have been his motives, would
never listen to these salutary counsels ; he persisted in his deter-
mination to defend himself behind walls that were indefensible
Perhaps he persuaded himself that he could prolong his resistance
until the arrival of relief, and thus escape the blame to which he
exposed himself on the part of his sovereign, in hazarding his
army bjwin attempt to retreat. Perhaps, also, the uncertainty of
saving it by this resource, appeared to him as great as that of the
arrival of succors. But whatever was the private opinion of the
British general, it could have no influence upon that fatal issue which
was rapidly approaching. The besiegers had already commenced
the labors of the second parallel, and their activity seemed to increase
every day. They were now bn' three hundred yards from the place.
The English endeavored to airest them by a deluge of bombs and
Halls. But the artillery of the hrst parallel kept up so heavy a fire,
that the besieged, far from being able to interrupt the labors of the
second, soon beheld all their batteries upon their left flank dismount-
ed. This event was the more prejudicial to them, as it was against
that very part that the allies directed their principal attack. In order
to complete their trenches, it remained for them to dislodge the Eng-
lish from the two advanced redoubts of whit b we have made mention
BOOK XIV. THE AMERICAN WAR. 399
above. Washington gave orders that they should be carried by
assault. With a view of exciting emulation between the two nations,
the attack on the redoubt upon the right was committed to the
Americans, and of the other to the French. The American detach-
ment was commanded by the marquis de la Fayette and by colonel
Hamilton, aid-de-camp of the commander in chief, a young man ol
the highest expectation. They were accompanied by colonel L#u-
rens, son of the former president of congress, who was at that time
confined in the tower of London. He was also a youth of the fairesi
hope, and would infallibly have furnished a brilliant career if an un
timely death had not snatched him from his family, and from his
country. The baron de Viomesnil, the count Charles de Damas,
and the count de Deux Pouts, commanded the French. The
commanders addressed their soldiers a short exhortation to in-
flame their courage ; they represented that this last effort would
bring them to the term of their glorious toils. The attack was
extremely impetuous. On its success depended in a great meas-
ure that of the siege. Relying entirely upon their bayonets, the
Americans advanced with unloaded arms ; they passed the abattis
and palisades without waiting to remove them. The English, as-
tonished at so much audacity, attempted in vain to put themselves
upon defense. .The humanity of the conquerors equaled their
courage. They granted life to all those who demanded it, notwith-
standing the cruelties recently committed at New London. Young
Laurens gained great credit upon this occasion, and personally took
the commanding officer prisoner. The loss was very moderate
on both sides. The redoubt upon the left cost more efforts ; but at
length, the French chasseurs and grenadiers*animated by the exam-
ple of their chiefs, carried it with the bayonet. This double cenquest
was no less useful to the allies than it was honorable for their arm?
Washington presented the two regiments of Gatinois and Deux Pontf,
who had contributed to it, with the two pieces of cannon which they
had taken. The besieged made no attempt to recover the two
redoubts. The besiegers hastened to include them in the second
parallel, which before the next morning was entirely completed.
The situation of the garrison was become so critical, that it could no
longer hope for safety. Cornwallis foresaw perfectly, that when the
besiegers should have opened the fire of the batteries of their second
parallel, all means of resistance would fail him. The greater part
of his artillery was dismounted, broken, or otherwise disabled; the
walls were crumbled into the ditches; in a word, almost all the de-
fenses were rased. Having lost the use of his heavy artillery, the
400 THE AMERICAN WAR. BOOK XIV.
British commander gave with difficulty some sipn of resistance by
firing at intervals with his howitzers and small mortars.
In this state of things Cornwallis, in order to retard as much as
was in his power the completion of the batteries upon the second
parallel, resolved to reach them by a vigorous sortie. He did not
flatter himself, however, that even by this expedient he should be able
to extricate himself from the alarming position he was in, nor yet to
protract his defense for any considerable space of time. He wrote
to general Clinton, that being exposed every moment to an assault
in ruined works, and an almost open town, with a garrison weakened
by sickness, the distress of Yorktown was such that he could not
recommend to the fleet and army to run any great risk in endeavor-
ing to save it.
Meanwhile a detachment sallied from the place, on the night of
the sixteenth of October, under the conduct of colonel Abercrom-
bie. They deceived the enemy by answering as Americans ; and
having penetrated to the second parallel, made themselves masters of
two batteries, the one French and the other American. The French,
who had the guard of that part of the intrenchment, suffered con-
siderably. The English spiked eleven pieces of cannon, and would
have done much more mischief, if the viscount de Noailles had not
charged them furiously, and driven them before him into the town.
This sortie was not of the least advantage to the besieged. The
cannon, which were hastily spiked, were soon again rendered fit for
service.
The fire of the place was entirely extinct. Scarcely did it throw
from time to time acohorn shell into the camp of the besiegers ; and
this last source of defense was nearly expended. The garrison was
sensibly enfeebled by disease ; fatigue and discouragement over-
whelmed even the soldiers who remained for service. All hope
was vanished ; an assault must prove irremediable. Straitened
on all sides, Cornwallis was constrained to resort to new expe-
dients. He had recourse to a measure which he ought to have
embraced before it was too late ; and that was, to pass the river
suddenly with his garrison, and to try fortune upon the opposite bank.
He reflected, that even if it was not in his power to escape the enemy
entirely, he had at least the hope of retarding the moment of his
surrender ; and that, in any event, the allies occupied in pursuing him,
would not so soon have it in their power to turn their thoughts and
arms upon new enterprises. The boats are prepared ; the troops
embark ; they leave behind the baggage, the sick and wounded, and
a feeble detachment, in order to capitulate for the town's people,
with a letter from Cornwallis to Washington, recommending to tlw
BOOK. XIV. THE AMERICAN WAR. 401
generosity of the conqueror the persons not in a condition to be
removed. Already a part of the troops are landed at Gloucester
Point ; another embarks ; the third division only is waited for ; a
perfect calm prevails in the air and upon the waters ; every thing seem-
ed to favor the design of the British commander. But all of a sud-
den, at that critical moment of hope, apprehension and danger, aroje
a violent storm of wind arid rain, and all was lost. The boats wwe
all driven down the river, and the army, thus weakened and divided,
was involved in a state of the most imminent danger. The day be-
gan to appear. The besiegers opened a tremendous fire from all
their batteries ; the bombs showered copiously even into the river.
But the tempest, in the meantime, had abated; the boats were able
to return, and the English, finding this last way of safety interdicted
them by inexorable fortune, *came back, not without new perils, to
that shore, where ascertain death or an inevitable captivity awaited
them. Again in Yorktown, Cornwallis being sensible that his
position was now past all remedy, and preferring the life of his brave
troops to the honor they might have acquired in a murderous and
desperate assault, sent a flag to Washington, proposing a cessation of
arms for twenty-four hours, and that commissioners might be appoint
ed on both sides for settling the terms of capitulation. The Amer-
ic?n general was not disposed to grant so long a time, on account
of the possible arrival of British succors. He answered, that he
could only grant a truce of two hours ; and that during this interval,
he should expect the propositions of the British commander. Corn-
wallis was desirous that his troops might obtain the liberty of return-
ing to their respective countries, the English to England, the Ger-
mans into Germany, upon giving their parole not to bear arms against
France or America until exchanged. He demanded, besides, the
regulation of the interests of those Americans, who, having followed
the British army, found themselves involved in its fate. Both of
these conditions were alike refused ; the first, because it was not in-
tended to leave the king of England at liberty to employ Ins captive
regiments in the home garrisons ; the second, because it was a civil
affair, and not within the competence of the military commanders
As to this last article, Cornwallis prosecuted the negotiation of it
with so much ardor, that he at length obtained permission to dispatch
the sloop Bonetta to New York, with tiiu privilege of passing without
search 01 visit, he being only answerable that the number of persons
she conveyed should be accounted for as prisoners of war upon
exchange. After various discussions, the two hostile generals having
agreed upon the terms of capitulation, the commissioners charged
with drawing it up convened in a habitation near the river, called
vol. it. 26
402 THE AMERICAN WAR. BOOK XIV.
Moore's house ; they were, on the part of the English, the colonels
Dundas and Ross ; on the part of the allies, the viscount de IVoailles
and colonel Laurens The posts of York and Gloucester were sur-
rendered on the nineteenth of October. The land forces became
prisoners to America, and the seamen to France. The officers
r^ained their arms and baggage. The soldiers were to be kept
together as much as possible in regiments, and to be cantoned in
Virginia, Maryland and Pennsylvania ; a part of the officers engaged
to accompany the corps into the interior of the country ; the others
were at liberty to go upon parole either to England or New York.
The Bonetta, on her return from that city, was to be delivered to
the count de Grasse. All the shipping and naval munitions were
put into the hands oi the French. The British flotilla consisted of
two frigates, the Guadaloupe and Fowey, besides about twenty trans
ports ; twenty others had been burnt during the siege. The Amer-
icans had for their portion the field artillery. They found in York-
town and Gloucester a hundred and sixty pieces of cannon, the
greater part brass, and eight mortars. The number of prisoners,
exclusive of seamen, amounted to upwards of seven thousand. Out
of this number, more than two thousand were wounded or sick.
The besieged had about five hundred and fifty slain ; but they lost
no officer of note except major Cochrane. On the side of the be-
siegers, about four hundred and fifty were killed or wounded.
When the garrison had deposited their arms, they were conducted
to the places of their destination. The talents and bravery displayed
in this siege by the allies, won them an immortal glory ; and they
still enhanced it by the humanity and generosity with which they
treated their prisoners. The French officers, in particular, honored
themselves by the most delicate behavior. They seemed to have
no other cares but that of consoling the vanquished by every mark
of the most sympathising interest. Not content with professions,
they made the English the most pressing offers of money, both pub-
lic and private. Lord Cornwallis in his public letters acknowledged
in .varm terms the magnanimity of this conduct.
The fate of York town and its defenders was thus decided, when
the twenty-fourth of October, the British fleet, consisting of twenty-
five sail of the line, with two of fifty guns and several frigates, ap-
peared at the entrance of the Chesapeake. It had made sail from
New York the nineteenth, the day of the capitulation ; it brought a
corps of seven thousand men to the succor of Cornwallis. Upon
positive intelligence of the catastrophe of Yorktown, the British
commanders, filled with grief and consternation, re-conducted their
forces to New York.
BOOK XIT. THE AMERICAN WAR. 403
At the news of so glorious, so important a victory, transports of
exultation broke oat from one extremity of America to the other.
The remembrance of past evils gave place, in all minds, to the most
brilliant hopes. Nobody dared longer to doubt of independence
If the victory of Saratoga had produced the alliance with France,
that of York town was to have the effect of establishing, on an unshak-
en basis, the liberty of the American people. If the one had been
the cause of the successes of the war, the other was about to create
the blessings of an honorable peace. In all parts of the United
States, solemn festivals and rejoicings celebrated the triumph of
American fortune and the downfall of that of the enemy. The
names of Washington, of Rochambeau, de Grasse, la Favette,
resounded every where. To the unanimous acclaim of the people,
the congress joined. the authority of its decrees. It addressed thanks
to the generals as well as to the officers and soldiers of the victori-
ous army. It ordained, that there should be erected at Yorktown of
Virginia, a marble column, adorned with emblems of the alliance
between the United States and the king of France, and inscribed
with a succinct narrative of the surrender of the earl Cornwallis. It
decreed, that Washington should be presented with .two stands of
British colors; the count de Rochambeau with two pieces of can-
non, and that his most Christian majesty should be requested to per-
mit the count de Grasse to accept a like present. The congress
repaired in body 'to the principal church of Philadelphia, to render
their joyful thanksgivings to the most high God for the recent victory.
By a special decree, the thirteenth of December was appointed to
be observed as a day of prayer and acknowledgment for so signal
an evidence of the divine protection.
The demonstrations of public gratitude towards the captain-general,
were not confined to these honors. The provincial assemblies, the
universities, the literary societies, addressed hirn, the sincere homage
of their felicitations and admiration. He answered with exemplary
modesty, that he had done no more than what his duty required of
him ; he was eloquent in extolling the valor of the army, and the
efficacious assistance of an ally no less generous than powerful.
Washington would have wished so to profit of the conjuncture as
lo expel the British entirely from the American continent. He
meditated in particular the recovery of Charleston. His design
might have been put in execution, if the count de Grasse had been
at liberty to remain longer upon the American coasts ; but the express
orders of his government recalled him to the West Indies. He made
sail for those islands the fifth of November, taking with him the corps
which had served under the marquis de St. Simon. The troops
404 THE AMERICAN WAR. BOOK XIV
which had reduced Yorktown were marched in part upon the banks
of the Hudson, to watch the motions of Clinton, who had still a great
force at New York. The rest were sent to the Carolinas to re-in-
force general Greene, and confirm the authority of congress in those
provinces. The English totally evacuated the open country, and
withdrew behind the walls of Charleston and Savannah. The mar-
quis de la Fayette embarked about the same time for Europe, bear •
ing with him the affection and the regrets of the Americans. The
congress, while testifying their high satisfaction with his services,
prayed him to advocate the interests of the United States with the
Frcncii i;*inistry, and to recommend them especially to the benevo
lenre of his most Christian majesty. Washington repaired to Phila-
delphia, where he had frequent conferences with the congress upon
military operations, and the business of the state. Thanks to his
cares and activity, the service of the war department was secured for
the following year much earlier than it had ever been before.
Such was the termination of the campaign of Virginia, which was
well nigh being that of all the American war. The disaster of York-
town so prostrated the British power upon that continent, that thence-
forth the English, utterly despairing of being able to re-establish it,
abandoned all idea of acting offensively, and thought only of defend-
ing themselves. With the exception of strong places, or countries
accessible to their powerful navy, such as the province of New York,
the contiguous islands, and the cities of Charleston and Savannah, all
the territory was recovered into the power of congress. Thus, by a
sudden reverse of fortune, the victors became vanquished ; thus those,
who, in the course of a cruel war, had learned from their enemies
themselves how to wage it, made such proficiency in the art as in
their turn to give lessons to their masters.
The arms of England were not more fortunate in the West Indies
than they had been upon the American continent. The marquis de
Bouille was informed that the governor of St. Eustatius, relying upon
the strength of the island, or upon the absence of the fleet of the
count de Grasse, kept a very negligent guard. Without loss of time
he embarked, at Martinico, twelve hundred regular troops with some
militia in three frigates, one corvette and four smaller armed vessels.
He sailed immediately for St. Eustatius. To confirm the enemy in
that profound security to which he abandoned himself, he gave out
that he was going to meet the French armament on its return from
America. He appeared in sight of the island the twenty-fifth of
November. But formidable obstacles awaited him there ; an
unusually rough sea not only prevented him from landing all his
troops, but even rendered it impracticable for the frigates to approach
BOOK XIV. THE AMER/CAN WAR. 405
the shore, and the boats were dashed in pieces against the rocks.
The activity of the marquis de Bouille enabled him, after unprece-
dented efforts, to put ashore four hundred soldiers of the Irish legion
with the chasseurs of two French regiments. This detachment,
separated from the rest of the troops by the fury of the sea, was
exposed to the most imminent danger ; it was about to encounter a
garrison consisting of seven hundred veteran soldiers. But the
marquis de Bouille, with the presence of mind that characterized
him, immediately took the only determination that could lead him to
success ; and that was to push rapidly forward, and seize by surprise
what he was in no condition to carry by force. He appeared unex-
pectedly under the walls of the fortress ; such was his celerity, and
such the negligence of the enemy, that he found a part of the garrison
exercising in full security upon the esplanade. The day had but
just commenced. The rest of the soldiers were dispersed in the
barracks and houses. Deceived by the red coats of the Irish, the
garrison took them at first for English ; they were first made sensible
of their error by a discharge of musketry, at half portice, which killed
several, and wounded a great number. They were thrown into con-
fusion ; governor Cockburne, who returned at this moment from a
promenade on horseback, came up, on hearing the strange noise,
and was made prisoner. Meanwhile, the French chasseurs had
pushed rapidly behind the English, and had already reached the gate
of the fortress. The English rushed into it tumultuously, and
attempted to raise the drawbridge; but the French, still more
prompt, threw themselves in pell mell with them. Surprised upon
all points, and unable to rally, the garrison laid down arms and sur-
rendered. Thus the island of St. Eustatius fell into the power of
the French. The booty they made was immense ; twenty pieces of
cannon were the fruit of victory. A million of livres, which had been
put in sequestration by the English, was forthwith restored by the
generous victor to the Dutch, from whom it had been wrested.
Governor Cockburne claimed a sum of two hundred and sixty-four
thousand Jivres as belonging to him personally ; it was assigned him
with the same liberality. But the marquis de Bouille thought he
had right to distribute among his troops sixteen hundred thousand
!ivres appertaining to. admiral Rodney, general Vaughan and other
British officers ; as being the produce of the sales they had made at
St. Eustatius. Thus M. de la Motte Piquet, at first, then the mar-
quis de Bouille, stripped the plunderers of this island of the riches
they had amassed in it ; they had scarcely any thing left of all their
spoils. The neighboring islands of Saba and St. Martin came like-
wise the next day into the power of the French.
406 THE AMERICAN WAR. BOOK. XIV
1782. In the commencement of the following month of February,
a squadron of- seven light vessels armed for war, under the command
of the count de Kersaint, recovered to Holland the colonies of Deme-
rary, Issequibo and Berbice ; so that all the conquests of admiral
Rodney, on which the British nation had founded the most brilliant
hopes of mercantile advantage, were wrested from it with as much
promptitude and facility as they had been made. As to France, the
preservation of the Cape of Good Hope, and the retaking of the
hutch colonies in America, acquired her the reputation of a faithful
and disinterested ally, and thus considerably increased the number of
her partisans in Holland. After the conquest of St. Eustatius, the
return of the count de Grasse decided the French to follow up their
victories. Their superiority, both in land and naval forces, authorized
them, in effect, to entertain hopes of the most important successes.
They directed their views at first towards the opulent island of Bai -
badoes. Its position, to windward of all the others, renders it very
proper for securing the domination of them. Twice they embarked
upon this expedition with all the means fitted to ensure its success,
and twice they were driven back by contrary winds. It was neces-
sary that the efforts of human valor should yield to the power of the
elements. The French commanders then determined to attack the
sland of St. Christophers, situated to leeward of Martinico. The
3ount de Grasse arrived there the eleventh of January, with thirty -
two sail of the line, and six thousand men, under the marquis de
Bouille. The fleet anchored in the road of Basse Terre, and the
troops were disembarked. The inhabitants of the island were dis-
contented with the British government; they had always condemned
the American war, and they considered themselves, besides, aggrieved
by certain acts of parliament. Their indignation was extreme,
moreover, that the merchandise which they deposited in the ware-
houses of St. Eustatius, had been so shamefully pillaged by Rodney
and Vaughan. Consequently, instead of taking arms against the
French, they remained tranquil spectators of events.
The British retired from Basse Terre upon Brimstone Hill. Their
force consisted of seven hundred regulars, who were afterwards joined
by about three hundred militia. The governor of the island was
general Frazer, a very aged officer. The militia were commanded
by general Shirley, governor of Antigua. Brimstone Hill is a steep
and almost inaccessiblo rock. It rises upon the sea shore, not far
from the little town of Sandy Hill, which is considered the second of
the island, and situated about ten miles from Basse Terre, which is
the capital. The fortifications constructed upon the summit of Brim-
stone Hill, were by no means coi respondent to its natural strength.
BOOK XIV. THE AMERICAN WAR. t 407
They were, besides, too extensive to be susceptible of an efficient de-
fense by so feeble a garrison. No sooner were the French disembarked,
than they marched in four columns to invest the hill on all its faces
at once. As the artillery of the place incommoded them exceeding-
ly, they found themselves necessitated to proceed with much regular-
ity and caution. They opened trenches, and covered themselves by
breast \vo*-ks. They were almost entirely destitute of heavy artillery,
the ship that bore it having foundered near Sandy Point. Their
industry and patience, however, succeeded in recovering from the
bottom of the sea the greater part of the pieces. They hastened
also to procure them from the neighboring islands. They likewise
made themselves masters of some heavy cannon at the foot of the
mountain, which had been sent from England a long time before, and
which, through the negligence of the governor, had not been carried
into the fortress. Independent of this artillery, a considerable quan-
tity of bombs and cannon-ball fell into the power of the French
Thus the arms and ammunition, sent by the British government for
the defense of the island, were left to be employed for its reduction.
The late surprise of St. Eustatius ought, however, to have put the
commandant of St. Christophers upon the alert.
The French, thus finding themselves provided with the apparatus
necessary for their operations, established themselves upon the most
commanding of the neighboring heights, and began to batter the
fortress. The garrison defended themselves valiantly, and with more
effect than could have been expected from their small number.
In the meantime, admiral Hood returned from the coasts of
America to Carlisle bay, in the island of Barbadoes, with twenty-two
<;ail of the line. Upon intelligence of the peril of St. Christophers,
notwithstanding the great inferiority of his force to that of the count
de Grasse, he put to sea again immediately for the relief of the island
attacked. He first touched at Antigua to take on board general
Prescott with a corps of about two thousand men, and then sailed
without delay for the road of Basse Terre, in St. Christophers. At
the unexpected appearance of the British fleet, the count de Grasse
instantly took his resolution ; he weighed anchor, and sailed forth-
with to meet the enemy. His intention, in standing out of the har-
bor, was to put himself in condition to take advantage of the
superiority of his force, and to prevent Hood from anchoring off
Sandy Point, whence he might easily have thrown succors into the
fort on Brimstone Hill. The British admiral, who observed the
movements of his adversary, made a feint of intending to await the
battle ; then, al1 at once, fell back, in order to draw the count de
Grasse more and more distant from the fort. As soon as ho hail
<Jf)9 , THE AMERICAN AVAR. BOOK XIT.
effected this object, availing himself of the swiftness of his ships and
the advantage of the wind, he stood into tne bay of Basse Terre, and
came to anchor in the same spot whence the French admiral had
departed. This able maneuver was admired by the French them-
selves. They followed, however, and with their van engaged that
of the English, but to little effect. The count de Grasse afterwards
presented himself with all his fleet at the entrance of the bay.
The attack was extremely vigorous ; but the British ships, lyinp
fast at anchor in a line across the mouth of the harbor, afforded no
assailable point. The French were unable to make the least effec-
tive impression, and lost not a few men in the attempt. It was
followed, however, by a second, which had no better success. The
count de Grasse then renounced open force, and contented himself
with cruising near enough to block up the British fleet in the bay,
and protect the convoys of munitions which were on their way to him
from Martinico and Guadaloupe.
Admiral Hood, on finding that the French had given up all
thoughts of disturbing him in his anchorage, put ashore general
Prescott, with a corps of thirteen hundred men ; that general, having
driven in a French post stationed in that part, encamped in a strong
position upon the heights. He hoped to find some favorable occasion
to succor the fortress. The strength of the place seemed to prom-
ise him that general Frazer would be able to hold out still for a long
time. Admiral Hood, moreover, had received positive advice, that
Rodney was not far off, and that he had brought from Europe a
re-inforcement of twelve sail of the line. It appeared to him impos-
sible that after the junction of all the British forces, the count de
Grasse, and still less the marquis de Bouille, should be able to keep
the field.
The capture of all the French troops then on shore was in his
opinion an infallible event. But, in spite of all calculations, already
the marquis de Bouille, having marched two thousand men against.
general Prescott. had compelled him to evacuate the island and
re-embark precipitately. On the other hand, the French artillery
kept up so terrible a fire against Brimstone Hill, that a number of
breaches began to open in the walls ; one of them in the part fronting
the French camp was already practicable. A general assault would
inevitably carry the place. The governor did not think proper to
await this terrible extremity. All hope being now extinct, he de-
manded to capitulate. The conditions granted him were hunoniDle
for the soldiery and advantageous for the inhabitants of the island.
In consideration of their gallant defense, the generals Frazer and
Shirley were left in perfect liberty upon their parole. The surrender
BOOK XIV. THE AMERICAN WAR. 409
of Brimstone Hill placed the whole island of St. Christophers in the
power of the French. Admiral Hood, therefore, had no longer a
motive for maintaining his anchorage in the bay of Basse Terre ;
and, moreover, his fleet was in some degree exposed there to the fire
of the batteries which the French might have established upon the
shore. Nor could he overlook the importance of effecting his June
tion with admiral Rodney, who was daily expected, and who perhaps
was already arrived at Barbadoes. Retreat, however, was perilous
in the presence of so formidable a force as the French fleet. But
the conjuncture admitted of no hesitation. Accordingly, in the night
that followed the capitulation, the French being four leagues off, the
English cut their cables in order to get under way at the same
time, and thus keep their ships more collected and together. This
maneuver succeeded perfectly ; they gained Barbadoes without op-
position. Great was their joy at meeting Rodney in that island, who
had just arrived there with twelve sail of the line. The count de
Grasse incurred, on this head, the most violent reproaches of negli-
gence and excessive circumspection. It was maintained, that he
should have closely blockaded the British fleet in its anchorage, or
attacked it at its departure, or else pursued it in its retreat. His
partisans 'defended him, by alledging that he experienced an extreme
scarcity of provisions ; that his ships were by no means so good
sailers as those of the enemy, and finally, that he was under an
absolute necessity of returning promptly to Martinico, in order to
cover the arrival of convoys which were expected there from Eu-
rope. However these things might be, ii remains demonstrated that
the junction of the two British admirals produced, in the issue, an
incalculable prejudice to the interests of France ; as the sequel of
this history will sufficiently evince. About the same time, the island
of Montserrat surrendered to the arms of the counts de Barras and
de Flechin. A few days after, the count de Grasse came to anchor
at Martinico.
We have just seen the fortune of Great Britain depressed alike
upon the American continent and in the West Indies. The arms of
king George were not more successful in Europe than in the New
World. His enemies had there also the gratification of witnessing
the declension of his power. It was especially agreeable to Spain,
who first gathered its fruits. The duke de Crillon, knowing, with
what ardor the Catholic king desired to have in his power the
island of Minorca, applied himself witli the utmost zeal to the siege
of fort St. Philip. All the resources of the art of war had been
employed to reduce it ; a more formidable artillerv had never been
leveled against a place. But its natural strength, the immense
410 THE AMERICAN WAR BOOK XIV.
works which covered it, and the perseverance of the besieged, creat-
ing apprehensions that the defense might be protracted still for a long
time, the Spanish general had recourse to an expedient too little
worthy of him. He attempted to seduce governor Murray, and to
obtain by corruption what he despaired of carrying by force. He
had, it is true, for this degrading step, the positive instructions of his
government. General Murray repulsed the offers of his adversary
with as much dignity as disdain. He reminded the duke de Crillon.
that when one of his valiant ancestors had been requested by his
king to assassinate the duke de Guise, he had made him the answer
that his descendant should also have made to those who had pre-
sumed to commission him to attempt the honor of a man sprung from
a blood as illustrious as his own, or that of the Guises. He ended his
letter with praying him to cease to write or offer parley, his resolution
being to communicate with him no more, except at the point of the
sword.*
The duke de Crillon gave general Murray to understand, that he
could not but honor him for his conduct ; that he rejoiced it had
placed them both in that position which befitted them alike ; and
that it had greatly increased the high esteem in which he had always
held the governor. Meanwhile the situation of the besieged was
become painful in the extreme. Notwithstanding the success of a
vigorous sortie, in which they had dislodged the duke de Crillon from
Cape Mola, where he had established his head-quarters, their weak-
ness rendered this transitory triumph more hurtful to them than
beneficial. The garrison would by no means have sufficed for the
defense of so extensive fortifications, even if they had been free from
sickness. But very far from that was their condition. The seeds
of the scurvy, with which they were infected, even before the opening
of the siege, had developed themselves with a fury which increased
from day to day. All who were seized with it either died, or be-
came totally useless for the defense of the place. The causes of
this mortal disease were principally the scarcity, or rather'absolute
want of vegetables, the amassment of soldiers in the casemates, the
horrible fetor which resulted from it, and the excessive fatigues of a
* Henry III., despairing of being able to reduce the Duke of Guise, consulted tne
.nareschals d'Aumont, de Rambouilet and de Beauvais Nangis, who decided that con
sidering the impossibility of bringing that illustrious rebel to trial, it was necessary to
take him off by surprise. The king proposed to the celebrated Crillon to undertake the
execution of this murder ; ' I will not assassinate him, answered the bravest of the brave,
but I will fight him. When a man is ready to give his life, he is master of that of
another.'
The affectation of general Murray in vaunting in his answer the nobility of his origin,
grew out of his pretending to have descended from the earl of Murray, natural son of
Janwa V. and brother of Mary Stuart
BOOK XIV. THE AMERICAN WAR 41}
service almost without remission. To the scurvy, as if not sufficient
of itself to exterminate the unhappy garrison, putrid fevers and the
dysentery united their destructive rage. Overwhelmed by so many
evils, these intrepid warriors piqued themselves upon braving them.
Those who were already attacked with pestilential maladies, dissem-
bled their sufferings, for fear of not being admitted to share the perils
of their comrades. Their ardor had survived their bodily strength ;
some of them were seen to expire under arms.
Nature at length triumphed over the firmness of these generous
spirits. In the beginning of Februaiy, the garrison found itself so
diminished, that there remained only six hundred and sixty men
capable of any sort of service ; and, even of this number, the most
part were tainted with the scurvy. It was to be feared lest the ene-
my, apprised of this disastrous state of things, might precipitate his
attacks, and carry the place by storm. There was the more founda-
tion for such an apprehension, as the artillery had already ruined the
greater part of the upper defenses. Scarcely did there remain a
few pieces of cannon in a serviceable state, and the fire of the enemy
was still unremitting.
In a situation so utterly hopeless, to resist any longer would have
been rather the delirium of a senseless obstinacy, than the effect of a
generous constancy. Murray accepted a capitulation, the tenor of
which was honorable for his garrison. He was allowed all the nonors
of war ; the British troops were to be sent to England as prisoners
upon parole ; all the foreigners had permission to return to their
countries with their effects ; the Minorcans, who had adhered to the
British party, were left at liberty to remain in the island in the undis-
turbed enjoyment of their possessions. When the remains of this
valiant garrison evacuated fort St. Philip, they had more the appear-
ance of specters than of men.
They marched through the French and Spanish armies, which
were drawn up fronting each other, and formed a lane for their pas-
sage. They consisted of no more than six hundred old decrepit
soldiers, one hundred and twenty of the royal artillery, two hundred
seamen, and about fifty Corsicans, Greeks, Turks and Moors. The
victors manifested compassion for the fate of their prisoners ; they
could not refuse them even a tribute of admiration, when, arrived
at the place where they laid down their arms, they heard them
declare, while lifting up to heaven their eyes bathed in tears, that
they had surrendered them to God alone. The humanity of the
French and Spaniards was highly conspicuous, and worthy of last-
ing praise. Yielding to the most generous emotions, the common
soldiers of the two nations were forward to administer refreshments
412 THE AMERICAN WAR. BOOK XIV.
and consolations to their unfortunate enemies. The duke and count
d? Crillon, as well as the baron de Falkenhayn, commander of the
French troops, signalized themselves by the most feeling and delicate
attentions. Such actions and conduct cast abroad a pleasing
shade, which serves to soften the horrors of war, and to hide and
alleviate its calamities ; should they not also mitigate the fury of
national rivalships and animosities ?
Thus did the island of Minorca return to the dominion of Spain,
after it had been in the possession of Great Britain for upwards of
seventy years.
The news of so many and so grievous disasters, and especially
that of Yorktown, produced in England a general consternation,
accompanied by an earnest desire of a new order of things. The
length of the war was already become wearisome to all ; the enor-
mous expenses it had occasioned, and which it still exacted, were
viewed with disquietude and alarm. The late reverses still increased
this universal discontent ; and with the diminution of the hope of
victory was strengthened in all the impatience for the return of peace.
The possibility of resuming the offensive upon the American conti-
nent, and of re-establishing there, by dint of arms, the sovereignty of
Great Britain, was now considered as a chimera. The secret machi-
nations in order to divide the people of America, the terror and
barbarity of the Indians, the attempts of treason, the destruction ol
commerce, the falsification of bills of credit, odious means to which
the British ministers had resorted, and even the victories of their
generals, all had failed of wresting from the Americans the smallest
indication of a disposition to resume their ancient yoke. If such had
been their constancy, when their ship, battered by the tempests, seem-
ed hastening to the bottom, how could it be hoped to see them bend,
while the most propitious gales were conducting them into the wished-
for port ? It was self-evident that henceforth the war of A merica
could have no other object but that of obtaining the most honorable
conditions possible, after having acknowledged independence. On
the other hand, the immense losses sustained in the West Indies,
gave occasion for fear lest they might be followed by others still more
afflicting. The most anxious apprehensions were entertained for
Jamaica, against which the house of Bourbon seemed ready to dis-
play the entire apparatus of its power. The fall of a place of such
importance as fort St. Philip, and the loss of the whole island of
Minorca, inspired doubts for Gibraltar itself.
The people, always the same every where, imputed these disas-
ters, not to the contrariety of fortune, but to the incapacity of minis-
ters. Their adversaries, both within parliament and without, raised
BOOK XIV. THE AMERICAN WAR. 413
the most violent clamors. They exclaimed, that such wert the fore-
seen results of ministerial infatuation and obstinacy. They demanded
with vociferation the immediate dismission of these perverse and
imbecile servants of the crown ; they affirmed, that it was urgent to
prevent those who had brought the country to the brink of a preci-
pice, from plunging it headlong down it by the last frantic shock ;
that there was no chance of safety but in removing instantly those
senseless instigators of a fatal war. These cries of hatred coincided
with the prevailing spirit ; they were echoed with unanimity by the
discontented multitude. Besides, it escaped no one that since the
course of things had created the necessity of entering into negotia-
tion with the Americans, and of acknowledging their independence,
it was not suitable that those who had at first so highly exasperated
them by their laws, and afterwards had imbittered them to the utmost
by a barbarous war, should undertake to treat with them. The work
of a durable pacification appeared little proper to be confided to
hands which had fanned the fire of war. Already general Conway,
by a very eloquent speech, pronounced the twenty-second of Febru-
ary, in the house of commons, had moved and obtained that his
majesty should be entreated to command his ministers not to persist
any longer in the attempt to reduce the colonies to obedience by
means of force, and by continuing the war upon the American con-
tinent. He did more ; in the sitting of the fourth of March, he
proposed and carried a resolution, purporting that those who should
advise the king to continue the war upon the continent of North
America, should be declared enemies of the sovereign and of the
country. From this moment, the leading members of the privy
council, the center and source of all great deliberations, perceived
that it was full time to resort to the usual remedy of a change of
ministry. The general attention was excited to the highest degree.
At length, the twentieth of March, the earl of Surrey having moved
in the house of commons that the king should be supplicated to
change his ministers, lord North rose, and declared with dignity that
it was superfluous to spend any more time upon this subject, since it
had already occupied the attention of his majesty, who would shortly
make known his new choice. < Before I take leave of this house/
added lord North, ' I feel it a duty to return it thanks for the support
and favor it has afforded me during so long a course of years, and in
so many trying situations. It will be easy to give me a successor,
endowed with a greater capacity, of better judgment, and more qual-
ified for his situation ; but it will not be equally so to find a man
more zealous for the interests of his country, more loyal to the sov-
ereign, and more attached to the constitution. I hope the new ser-
414 THE AMERICAN WAR. BOOK XIV
vants of the crown, whoever they may be, will take such measures
as shall effectually extricate the country from its present difficulties,
and retrieve its fortune at home and abroad. I should declare, in
retiring, that I am ready to answer to my country for all the acts of
my administration. If it is wished to undertake the investigation
of my conduct, I offer myself to undergo it.'
The new ministers were selected from among those members of
the two houses of parliament, who had shown themselves the most
favorable to the pretensions of the Americans. The marquis of
Rockingham was appointed first lord of the treasury ; the earl of
Shelburne and Mr. Fox secretaries of state ; lord John Cavendish
chancellor of the exchequer. Admiral Keppel was at the same
time created viscount and first lord of the admiralty. So great was
the exultation caused by this event, particularly in the city of Lon-
don, that it was feared the people of that capital, would, according
to their custom, break out into some blamable excesses. Every
body felt assured that the end of the war was at hand, and that of
all the calamities it had caused. All that was desired was, that the
conditions of peace might be honorable. Accordingly the partisans
of the new ministers were earnest in their prayers that some favora-
ble event might gloriously repair the checks which the British arms
had, received towards the close of ti^e past, and in the commence-
ment of the present year.
KVD OF BOOK FOURTEENTH.
BOOK XV. THE AMERICAN WAR. 415
BOOK FIFTEENTH.
1732. THE belligerent powers, in order to execute the plans
they had formed in the beginning of the present year, only waited
the completion of their preparations, the return of spring, and the
fitness of occasion. Alike weary of a long war, all had the same
persuasion that this campaign was to be decisive. Nor were they
ignorant that it is at the moment of peace that reverses have the
most fatal consequences, as there no longer remains either time or
hope for retrieving them. Under these considerations, each of the
powers at war redoubled vigilance and efforts, in order to secure the
definite triumph of its arms. The allied courts directed their
views especially upon the domination of the European seas, the
reduction of Gibraltar, and the conquest of Jamaica. The French
were in the highest degree solicitous to transmit succors to their
establishments in the East Indies, where, notwithstanding the valor
and distinguished ability displayed by M. de Suffren, in several hard
fought engagements with admiral Hughes, their affairs were ill a
state of declension ; and already two Dutch places of great impor-
tance, Trincomale and Negapatam. were fallen into the power of the
English. The attention of the allies had therefore two principal
objects ; to defend their own possessions, and to seize those of the
enemy.
It was agreed that the Dutch and Spanish fleets should effect their
junction with the French in the port of Brest. This mighty armada
was afterwards to scour the open sea, and clear it of all hostile force
from the straits of Gibraltar to the coasts of Norway. It was intend-
ed that the ships of the line should blockade the squadrons of the
enemy in all the channels and ports, while the frigates and other
light vessels should intercept the convoys, and utterly ruin the com-
merce of the English. The views of the allies extended yet farther ;
they hoped by incessantly spreading new alarms upon the coasts of
Great Britain, that some opportunity might present itself for making
descents, ravaging the country, and even for striking still more
important blows, according to circumstances. They proceeded with
the greatest zeal to the execution of their designs ; the junction of
their armaments was to present a powerful mass of sixty sail of the
line, besides a prodigious number of frigates and sloops of war. The
English were very far from possessing means sufficient to withstand
so formidable a display of forces. Accordingly, the allied courts
entertained not the least doubt but that their arms would be as sue-
416 THE AMERICAN WAR. BOOK X^.
cessful in the West Indies and Europe, in this year's campaign, as
they had been in the last upon the American continent. A glorious
peace must, they felt assured, inevitably result from these decisive
successes.
On the other hand, the new members of the British cabinet
neglected nothing that could tend to remedy the calamitous state of
affairs, and enable them to resist with effect the storm that rumbled
over their heads. They hoped to compensate the inequality of force
by the skill of commanders, the courage of troops, and the success
of projected expeditions. Their cares were directed to the equip-
ment of the fleet and the lading of the convoy destined to re-victua!
Gibraltar. After the security of the kingdom, there was nothing
which they had so much at heart as the safety of that place. But
they were sensible that, first of all, it was necessary to prevent the
junction of the Spanish and Dutch squadrons with the French fleet ;
thus interrupting also, at the same time, the commerce of the Dutch
in the Baltic, and protecting that of England against their insults.
Admiral Howe was therefore ordered to put to sea from Ports-
mouth with twelve sail of the line, and to establish his cruise upon
the coasts of Holland. This measure had the desired effect. The
Dutch squadron, which had already set sail from the Texel, aban-
doned the sea to the English, and made the best of its way back
into port. After having cruised off the Dutch coasts for the term of
a month, admiral Howe, finding that the enemy made no movement
demonstrative of a disposition to put to sea again, and the unhealthi
ness of the season having occasioned much sickness on board his
fleet, took the determination to return to Portsmouth. Admiral
Milbanke relieved him almost immediately. If he was not able to
annoy the Dutch trade in the Baltic, he at least effectually protected
that of the English ; and, moreover, he constantly interdicted to the
enemy's squadron the entrance of the channel. Thus, with the
exception of the brilliant action *f Doggers Bank, the republic of
Holland, formerly so famous, did nothing in all this war that was
worthy of her, and of her ancient renown. Such was the decay of
her glory and of her power, the deplorable result of excessive riches,
of insatiable avidity, and perhaps still more of the party spirit which
rent those provinces. If in a republic the counterpoise of parties,
in matters relating to internal administration, may sometimes turn to
the advantage of liberty, and maintain more energy in the people,
those factions which have foreign powers for object, produce an
entirely opposite effect. They divert the public spirit upon that
which is abroad, and paralize all its activity at home. The most
evident symptom of the decay of the strength of a state, and of the
BOOK XV. THE AMERICAN WAR. 417
loss of its independence, is, doubtless, a division between citizens in
favor of foreigners ; and such was the situation of the Dutch at this
epoch. If, at the conclusion of the present war, their republic was
not reduced to the last degree of depression, if it even repaired a
great part of its losses, this it owed, not to its own force, but entirely
to the arms and protection of France.
We resume the course of events ; undoubted intelligence had
been received in England that a considerable convoy of troops and
military stores, destined for India, was on the point of sailing from
the port of Brest. Fearing, on the one hand, for Jamaica, and on
the other, for the establishments of the coast of Malabar, the minis-
ters, without any delay, dispatched admiral Barrington, at the head
of twelve sail of the line, with orders to watch this convoy, and to
capture it, if the opportunity should offer itself. He shaped his
course for the bay of Biscay, and soon discovered the convoy, which
consisted of eighteen transports, under the guard of two ships of the
line, the Pegase and the Protecteur. The wind was violent and
the sea tempestuous. The English nevertheless continued to crowd'
sail. The ship Foudroyant, an excellent sailer, commanded by
captain Jarvis, at length came up with and engaged the Pegase,
under the chevalier de Sillan. The forces of the two ships being,
about equal, the action lasted with extreme violence for a full hour.
The Frenchman did not strike till after having seen the greater part
of his men either killed or disabled. The sea was so rough that
captain Jarvis was scarcely able to shift a small part of the crew of
the prize. It was to be feared that the small number of men he sent
aboard of it might be risen upon, and the ship rescued. But captain
Maitland, who commanded the Queen, came up at this moment, and
assisted his companion to secure his prize. Immediately after, they
were again separated by a gust of wind. Captain Maitland after-
wards fell in with another French ship called the Actionnaire, and
captured her, after a feeble resistance. In the meantime, the frigates
had given chase to the transports, which, at the first appearance of
the English, had obeyed a signal for dispersing with all celerity.
Twelve fell into the power of the enemy. This was a sensible loss
to France ; for independent of the artillery, munitions of war, and
provision, there were on board these vessels upwards of eleven hun-
dred regular troops. Admiral Barrington brought his prizes safely
into the ports of England.
The British admiralty, having realized the utility of cruises in the
seas of Europe, resolved to multiply them. It adopted ihis deter-
mination the more willing'}7, as it had not yet received any intima-
tion of the approaching ppearaoce of the grand combined fleet
VOL. ii. 27
418 THE AMERICAN WAR. BOOK XT.
Notwithstanding the ardent desire which animated alike the French
.and the Spaniards, to depress the power of their implacable enemy,
their operations suffered too often from that slowness which seems
inseparable from all coalitions. The English, on the contrary,
enjoyed the advantages attached to the unity of powers, and to the
concert of movements. As soon as Barrington was returned, Kem-
penfeldt had orders to put to sea, and stand in like manner towards
the bay of Biscay. His instructions were, to do the French com-
merce all the harm possible, to protect that of the British, and espe-
cially to cover the arrival of two rich convoys shortly expected, the
one from Jamaica, the other from Canada.
After having wasted much precious time, the allies had set them-
selves at length to carry into effect the plans they had meditated.
The count de Guichen, commanding the French squadron, and don
Lewis de Cordova, admiral in chief of the combined fleet, set sail
from the port of Cadiz, in the beginning of June, with twenty-five sail
of the line, between Spanish and French. They stood to the north,
towards the shores of England, animated with a desire and with a
hope to wrest from those audacious islanders the empire of the
ocean. As they sailed along the coasts of France, they were joined
by several ships of war, which lay in the ports of that part, and even
by a squadron that came from Brest to meet them. These different
re-inforcements carried the combined fleet to forty sail of the line.
Fortune smiled upon these first operations. The two convoys of
Newfoundland and Quebec, escorted by admiral Campbell with one
ship of fifty guns, and some frigates, fell into the midst of this im-
mense line. A part were taken, the rest dispersed. Eighteen
transports came into the power of the victors ; this capture was
valued at considerable sums. The ships of war made good their
escape, and gained the ports of England in safety. This advantage
indemnified the French, in some measure, for the loss of their convoy
destined to the East Indies.
After this, if not difficult, at least useful success, become entirely
masters of the sea, they repaired towards the entrance of the channel.
As they had done in their preceding campaigns, they stretched trieir
line across it, from the Scilly islands to that of tJshant. While ob-
serving the coasts of England, two objects especially occupied their
attention ; the protection of their own convoys, and the seizure of
those of the enemy. Meanwhile, the British ministers were not
reckless of the danger. Admiral Howe put to sea with twenty-two
sail of the line. His instructions enjoined him to avoid a general
action, and to use every possible endeavor to protect the arrival of
the Jamaica convoy, become still more precious since the loss of that
BOOK XV. THE AMERICAN WAR. 419
of Canada. This able commander displayed the rarest talents in
the execution of his orders. He put himself out of the reach of the
hostile fleet, by steering to the west, upon the route likely to be
taken by the convoy. This maneuver was crowned with full success.
Admiral Howe rallied to himself the whole convoy, with its escort,
commanded by Peter Parker, and, towards the last of July, entered
with them sound and safe into the ports of Ireland. The allies then
returned to their own coasts, after demonstrations as vain and fruit-
less as those of their two preceding campaigns.
But of all the enterprises of the belligerent powers in Europe,
none appeared to them more worthy to absorb all their attention than
the siege of Gibraltar. The English were all intent upon succoring
that fortress ; the French and Spaniards upon preventing it. These
two opposite aims were become the object of their reciprocal emula-
tion. Independent of the glory of, their arms, and the honor of
crowns, there was nothing less at stake than the empire of the Medi-
terranean, which seemed to depend on the possession of this cele-
brated rock. Never did any military operation attract, to the same
degree, the gaze of the entire world ; this siege was compared to the
most famous recorded in history, whether ancient or modern. To
preserve Gibraltar, was in England the first wish of all minds ; it was
known there that a scarcity began to prevail, within that place, of
munitions of war, and especially of provisions. It was equally known
that the besiegers intended to convert the blockade into an open
attack. Already they were preparing machines of a new construc-
tion, in order to carry, by dint of force, what they had failed of
attaining by famine. Accordingly, since Gibraltar, notwithstanding
all that art and nature had done for its defense, was menaced with
perils of a new species, the British government assembled at Ports-
mouth all the naval forces of the kingdom. The squadrons that
were cruising upon the coasts of Holland and of the bay of Biscay,
had orders to repair thither. An immense number of transports
were there laden with munitions and necessaries of every denomina-
tion. At length, all preparations being terminated, towards the
beginning of September, admiral Howe, commander-in-chief, accom-
panied by the admirals Milbank, Robert Hughes, and Hotham, set
sail from Portsmouth. His force consisted of thirty-four sail of the
line, and a proportionate number of frigates and fire-ships. Upon
the fortune of this armament hung that of the besieged fortress.
Arms were not, however, the only means which the British
ministers resolved to employ in order to attain the object they had in
view ; namely, a glorious war and an honorable peace. It was not
permitted them to hope to be able to reduce their enemies entirely,
420 THE AMERICAN WAR. BOOK XV.
so long as they persisted in their strict union ; they, therefore, formed
a design to throw division among them, by making to each of them
separate proposals of peace. The dissolution of the coalition
appeared to them the certain pledge of definitive triumph. They
calculated also, that even in case they should not succeed in their
attempt, they would nevertheless obtain a real . advantage ; that of
contenting the minds of the people of Great Britain, and of rendering
the war less odious to them, by demonstrating the necessity of con-
tinuing it. Another no less powerful consideration had influence
upon their determination ; they felt, that in order to preserve the
partisans they had made themselves both in and out of parliament,
it was necessary that they should hold out at least an appearance of
inclining towards peace. Under these considerations, the British
cabinet made application to the empress of Russia. She accepted
the character of mediatress with the States-General of Holland ; she
offered them, in the name of king George, a suspension of arms, and
conditions of peace upon the footing of the treaty of 1674. The
ambassador of France, who was then at the Hague, watched these
secret maneuvers, and labored with all his power to prevent the
effects of them, and to maintain the States-General in their fidelity
to the alliance. He reminded them that they were pledged not to
make peace with England until that power should have acknowledged
the unrestricted freedom of the seas. While recapitulating the plans
of naval operations concerted between the two states against the com-
mon enemy, he intimated that Holland could not renounce them all
of a sudden, without as much prejudice to her own honor, as to the
interests of her faithful ally, the king of France. He glanced also
at the gratitude by which the Dutch were bound to his most Christian
najesty for the preservation of the Cape of Good Hope, and the
recovery of St. Eustatius, as well as the colonies of Guiana, owing
entirely to his arms. In support of the representations of the French
ambassador, the States-General could not but add a tacit reflection.
The colonies above mentioned were still in the hands of the French,
as guarantee of treaties ; was it not to be feared that they would
refuse to restore them, if their allies departed from their engage-
ments ? These considerations were backed also by the efforts of the
partisans of France. They at length prevailed totally. The States-
General rejected the propositions of the court of London, declaring
that they would not disparage the incorruptible faith of which their
ancestors had left them the example. The overtures that were
made at the same time to the governments of France and of Spain
were not attended with any better success. The first entertained
hopes of expelling the British altogether from the West Indies, and
BOOK XV. THE AMERICAN WAR 421
thereby of acquiring more efficacious rights to stipulate for the liberty
of the seas. The second, swayed by the same motives, had, besides,
the prospect of recovering possession of Jamaica and Gibraltar. In-
timately united also by the family compact, the two monarchs would
have thought it derogatory to the dignity of their crowns, not to have
fulfilled the obligations it imposed.
But the British ministers hoped for more fruit from their intrigues
with the United States of America. With a view to this object, they
had recalled general Clinton, and replaced him by general Carleton.
who, by his moderation and humanity during the war of Canada, had
conciliated the esteem and confidence of the Americans He was
invested, as well as admiral Digby, with power to negotiate peace
with the United States, upon the basis of independence, and to con-
clude with them a treaty of amity and commerce.
But the Americans took into consideration, that no act of the par-
liament had as yet authorized the king to conclude peace or truce
with America ; and consequently it was to be apprehended that pro-
posals and promises, made at the mere motion of ministers, might
afterwards be disavowed by the two houses. They were aware also
of the extreme repugnance which the king personally had to acknowl-
edge their independence. They began therefore to suspect the
existence of a hidden snare. These conjectures acquired new force
with them, on hearing that the British cabinet had made separate
overtures to each of the belligerent powers. They no longer doubted
but that its drift was, by means of these overtures, to sow division
among them, and to amuse them by vain words. The proposition of
peace appeared to them a mere stratagem of the English to divert
their attention from the preparations requisite to the prosecution of
the war, and thereby secure for themselves easy advantages. The
French minister at Philadelphia exerted himself to the utmost to
interrupt all negotiations. He placed in the strongest light the
grounds which the Americans had for apprehending bad faith on the
part of England, and for confiding, on the contrary, in the sincerity
arid generosity of the king of France. The most influential members
of the American government were little disposed of themselves to
commence their career in the political world by a violation of treaties,
and to exchange an approved alliance for a suspicious friendship ;
their opinion prevailed. The congress declared formally, that they
would enter into no negotiation wherein their ally should not par-
ticipate.
Moreover, that not the slightest doubt should remain respecting
the good faith of the United States, in order to bar all hope to Eng-
land, and all suspicion to France, the provincial assemblies decreed,
422 THE AMERICAN WAR. BOOK XV.
that peace should never be concluded with Great Britain without
the consent of his most chnstian majesty ; declaring enemies to the
country all those who should attempt to negotiate without authority
from congress. Thus the first days of the year witnessed the
failure of all hope of pacification. The cause for which the bellige-
rent powers had taken arms, appeared still undecided. In the midst
of that reciprocal distrust which imbittered minds, no form of con-
ciliation was admissible, till ushered by the last necessity. While
such was the posture of affairs upon the American continent, they
were about to be decided, in the islands, by one of those events
which triumph over all the measures of prudence. The war of the
West Indies was destined to have an issue similar to that which the
catastrophe of Cornwallis had operated in Virginia. The allied
courts had made formidable preparations for executing at last their
long meditated projects against Jamaica. The Spaniards had, in the
islands of St. Domingo and Cuba, a numerous fleet, and a considera-
ble body of troops, both perfectly equipped, and in readiness to move
wherever the good of the service might require. On the other hand,
the count de Grasse was at Fort Royal in Martinico, with thirty-four
sail of the line, and a great number of frigates. The French admi-
ral was occupied with the care of refitting his fleet, while awaiting
a second convoy, which departed from Brest early in February, and
which brought him an immense quantity of arms and military stores,
of which he stood in great need. After having terminated his prepa-
rations, his intention was, to effect his junction with the Spaniards at
St. Domingo, in order to act in concert against Jamaica. Their
combined forces were to consist of sixty sail of the line, and near
twenty thousand land troops ; a prodigious armament, and such as
had never before been seen in those seas. The English were very
far from having the means of resistance adequate to those of attack.
When Rodney, who was then anchored at Barbadoes, had been
joined by admiral Hood, and three ships of the line from England, he
found himself at the head of no more than thirty-six sail of the line.
The garrisons of the British islands were all very weak ; and even in
Jamaica there were only six battalions of troops, inclusive of militia.
The terror was so great there, that the governor of the island pro-
claimed martial law, the effect of which was to suspend all civil
authority, and to confer it entire upon the military commanders.
Admiral Rodney was perfectly aware that the success of the West
Indian war, and the late of all the British possessions in those seas,
depended on two decisive events. It was necessary to intercept the
Brest convoy before it should arrive at Martinico, and to prevent the
French fleet from uniting with that of Spain at St. Domingo. In
BOOK XV. THE AMERICAN WAR. 423
order to accomplish the first of these objects, he had put to sea, and
so stationed his fleet to windward of the French islands, that it
extended from the island of Desirade to that of St. Vincents ; thus
occupying the route usually followed by vessels coming from Eu-
rope bound to Martinico. He had also taken the precaution to de-
tach his frigates still more to windward, that they might observe and
promptly report to him all the movements of the enemy. But the
French presaged the snare that was laid for them. Instead of taking
the ordinary track, they stood with their convey to the north of
Desirade, and then keeping close under the lee of Guadaloupe and
Dominica, brought it in safety to the bay of Port Royal in Martinico.
This re-inforcement was most opportune for the French. It was, on
the contrary, extremely fatal for the English, who had now no other
means of averting their total ruin in those parts, but by preventing
the junction of the fleets of France and Spain at St. Domingo.
With this object in view, Rodney came to anchor in Gros Islet bay
at St. Lucia, in order to be able to watch continually all that passed
at Fort Royal. His frigates kept up a very active cruise ; and in
the meantime he took care to recruit his water and provisions, in
order to be in a situation to keep the sea as long as possible. Mean-
while, the count de Grasse felt himself pressed to act. His instruc-
tions required it of him ; and their object was of the last importance
to the glory and prosperity of the French realm. On the safety of
his convoy depended the success of the expedition of Jamaica. He
sent it forward under the escort of two ships of the line, the Sagit-
taire and Experiment, and followed it shortly after with all his fleet.
He would have wished to avail himself of the trade winds to sail
directly towards St. Domingo ; but he reflected that in so doing,
incumbered as he was with upwards of a hundred transports, and
the wind always blowing from the same point, it was almost impos-
sible for him to keep out of the reach of the British fleet. It was
evidently in the interests of his designs to avoid- a battle ; he there-
fore took a different route. He shaped his course to the northward,
standing along near the shores of the islands with all his vast arma-
ment. Prudence could not but applaud this measure, and every
thing promised its success. The pilots of the count de G/asse had
the advantage over those of the enemy of being better acquainted
with the bearings of these coasts, for the most part French or Span-
ish ; and they might of course approach them as near as they should
think proper. Besides, the different channels formed between these
islands, offered both secure retreats and favorable winds for escaping
the pursuit of the enemy. The French admiral might thus pass his
424 THE AMERICAN WAR. BOOK XV.
convoy along the coasts, while his ships of war should form in ordei
of battle to cover it against the attempts of his adversary. It was
easy for the French by this means to keep to windward of the
British, and consequently to preserve a free passage to St. Dorningo.
The count de Grasse had therefore sufficient grounds for hoping that
all the vessels under his command would, by little and little, make
their way good to the point of general rendezvous. The British
frigates, which kepta diligent watch, soon apprised Rodney"bfths sail-
ing of the French fleet. Immediately, with his accustomed prompti-
tude, lie put to sea in quest of the enemy. It was the ninth of April.
Already the French had begun to pass Dominica, and were to lee-
ward of that island when they descried the whole British fleet. The
count de Grasse ordered the captains of the transports to crowd all
sail and fake shelter in the port of Guadaloupe. The two admirals
prepared themselves for battle with equal skill and bravery. The
Frenchman, however, chose to keep his enemy at a distance in
order to give his convoy time to retire, and not to commit to the
caprice of fortune a certain operation. The Englishman, on the
contrary, felt that he could not engage his adversary too close, since
there was no remedy for the critical situation of affairs except in a
complete and decisive victory. The count de Grasse had thirty-
three sail of the line ; among which, one of one hundred and ten
guns, the Ville de Paris, five of eighty, twenty-one of seventy-four,
and the rest of sixty-four. The crews were complete, and there
were on board the French fleet five or six thousand land troops,
forming the garrison of the ships. The center was under the imme-
diate orders of the count de Grasse ; the marquis de Vaudreuil
commanded the van, and M. de Bougainville the rear. The fleet
of admiral Rodney consisted of thirty-six sail of the line, of which
one of ninety-eight guns, five of ninety, twenty of seventy-four, and
the others of sixty-four. The British van was commanded by vice-
admiral Hood, and the rear-guard by rear-admiral Drake. The
English were desirous to engage a general action, but they had not
yet been able to get abreast of the island of Dominica, and their
advance was retarded by calms. They endeavored nevertheless to
profit of the puffs of wind which sprung up from time to time, in
order to fetch the French. But the latter, favored by a breeze,
made for Guadaloupe. The van of the British fleet receiving the
wind soon after, admiral Hood seized the occasion to come up with
the French within cannon-shot reach, and the action commenced
towards nine o'clock in the morning. The count de Grasse was
full of confidence at seeing that he could bring all his force to bear
upon a part only of the enemy's.
BOOK X\ . THE AMERICAN WAR. 425
The engagement was extremely fierce ; but however impetuous
was the attack of the French, the British withstood it without losing
their order. The headmost ships of their center having at length a
sufficiency of wind to carry them to the support of their van, which
suffered excessively, they renewed the action with inexpressible fury.
The French received their shock with a valor no less worthy of
admiration. Rodney's own ship, the Formidable, of ninety-eight
guns, and his two seconds, the Namur and the Duke, both of ninety,
made a tremendous fire. The captain of a French seventy-four, so
far from being dismayed at it, ordered his mainsail to be furled, that
his crew might abandon all idea of retreat, and fight with the more
desperation. He waited the approach of the three British ships,
and engaged them with admirable intrepidity. His conduct inspired
the English themselves with so much enthusiasm, that one of them,
in a letter which was made public, did not hesitate to call him the
godlike Frenchman. The other ships of the British center came up
successively, and the rear, under admiral Drake, was not far behind
them. But the French admiral, who had accomplished his purpose,
thought proper to draw his ships out of action, and accordingly gave
the signal for retreat. Such was the issue of this first combat ; it
would be difficult to decide on which part the most ability and
gallantry were signalized. The English made no attempt to follow
their enemies, whether because the wind was less in their favor, or
because their van, and especially the Royal Oak and the Montague,
had been grievously damaged. On observing (his, the French admi-
ral ordered the convoy, which had taken refuge at Guadaloupe, to
put to sea again immediately, and continue its voyage. This order
was executed with as much precision as promptitude by M. de
Langle, who commanded the convoy ; which a few days after
arrived safe and entire at St. Domingo. Some French ships had
suffered considerably in the action. Among others the Cato was
so damaged, that it became necessary to send her to Guadaloupe to
he repaired. The Jason also had been so shattered in her engage-
ment with the Zealous, that she was also obliged to make the best
of her way to the same island. These accidents prevented the
count de Grasse from gaining so soon as he could have wished to
windward of the group of islands called the Saints, in order after-
wards to stand to windward of Desirade, and repair 1o St. Domingo
by the north of the islands. The English, after having hastily refit-
ted their ships, had again set themselves to pursue the French. The
count de Grasse continued to beat to windward, in order to weather
the Saints, and he was already arrived, on the eleventh, off Guada-
loupe. He had gained so much distance upon the British fleet, that
426 THE AMERICAN WAR. BOOK XT.
its topsails only could be descried, and that with difficulty, by the
French. Rodney had pushed his pursuit with all the diligence
exacted by the urgency of the conjuncture ; but he began to despair
of overtaking the enemy. It was agitated in a council of war,
whether it would not be better for the interests of their affairs to give
over the direct pursuit of the enemy, and stand to leeward, in order
to arrive, if possible, before them in the waters of St. Domingo.
While this important point was under deliberation, and while an
anxious lookout was kept at the mastheads, in painful expectation
of the moment which was to decide the fate of Jamaica, and whether
the empire of the West Indies was to remain with the French or
with the English, a signal announced, about noon, the appearance of
two French ships. They had fallen to the leeward, and were drift-
ing continually nearer to the English. They were the Zel6, of
seventy-four guns, a ship which seemed destined to bring disaster to
the French fleet, and the frigate Astree, which the count de Grasse
had detached to take her in tow. A littJe before, the Zeli had got
foul of the Ville de Paris, and lost her foremast and mizzenmast in
the shock. In consequence of this accident she was unable to keep
up with the rest of the fleet. The English now conceived new
hopes of engaging the battle for which they so ardently panted.
They calculated that by bearing down rapidly to cut off the drifted
ships, they should constrain the French admiral to come to their
succor, and thereby place himself under the necessity of fighting.
They accordingly maneuvered with so much promptitude and sagaci-
ty, that the two ships could no longer escape them, unless the French
admiral bore down with his whole fleet for their preservation. It is
thought, and not without reason, that if the count de Grasse, content
with the glory acquired upon the coasts of Virginia, had known how
to yield in time to fortune, and had abandoned the two fatal ships to
the destiny that menaced them, he might easily have made his way
good to St. Domingo. Once arrived in that island, where the forces
of Spain would have joined his own, he might have given the final
blow to the British power in the West Indies. He had already
gained so far to windward, that if he had continued his voyage, it
was become impossible for the English to come up with him. But
deeming it contrary to the dignity and reputation of the mighty arma-
ment which he commanded, to suffer two ships to be taken almost
under the fire of its guns, he took the brave but no less adventurous
resolution of going to their succor ; thus, for the sake of protecting
an inconsiderable part of his fleet, exposing himself to the hazard of
losing the whole. He formed his line of battle, bore down upon the
English, and rescued the Zele. But this movement had brought
BOOK XV. THE AMERICAN WAR. 4^1
him so neat to the enemy, that it was no longer in his power to
avoid an engagement. The two admirals prepared for it with equal
ardor. The same high spirit was shared by all their crews ; there
was not a sailor of the two nations who did not feel that he was
about to contend for the honor of his sovereign, and the dominion oi
the West Indies. But the night was already come ; it was employed
on either side in making every preparation for the great day of the
morrow.
The space of sea which was to serve as the field of battle, is con-
tained between the islands of Guadaloupe, Dominica, the Saints, and
Maria Galante. Both to windward and leeward, the waters abound
in shoals and very dangerous reefs. The twelfth of April, at six in
the morning, the two fleets found themselves drawn up in presence
of each other, but on opposite tacks. The wind at this moment,
having veered from east to southeast, became more favorable to the
English. They profited of it without loss of time ; their van and
the greater part of their center ranged up to within half cannon-shot
of the enemy, and commenced the attack with unexampled fury.
The action lasted from seven in the morning till seven at night.
The other ships of the center, and the greater part of those of the
rear, edged up successively, and took part in the battle. Among
them was distinguished the Barfieur, of ninety guns, the ship of ad-
miral Hood. During this time the Zele, towed by the Astree, was
endeavoring to gain Guadaloupe.
Never did warriors the most inflamed with desire of victory, dis-
play more desperate valor or determined resolution, than the French
and English in this memorable day. The broadsides, from their rapid
succession, appeared continual , through the thick smoke that covered
the two fleets, nothing was seen but the blaze of their guns, nothing
was heard but the thunder of artillery, and the crash of the spars
that were shivered into splinters. The Formidable, admiral Rod-
ney's ship, discharged, in the course of this terrible conflict, no less
than eighty broadsides ; the Ville de Paris an equal number. The
fight continued for several hours without any apparent superiority of
success ; almost all the ships were excessively shattered ; the crews
were exhausted with fatigue. From the very commencement of the
action, the English, according to their custom, had endeavored to
break the enemy's line of battle. But the wind was not strong
enough; and the French, perceiving their design, held firm and
repulsed them with vigor. Meanwhile the van and center of the
count de Grasse had suffered extremely in their rigging, which occa-
sioned a sensible retardment in the movements of these two divisions.
The third commanded by M. de Bougainville, not having regulated
428 THE AMERICAN WAR. BOOK XV.
its maneuvers by those of the rest of the line, had fallen into ex-
treme disorder. To this fatal event, which coild only be imputed
to men, there soon succeeded another, originating in the contrariety
of fortune. The wind became all at once so unfavorable to the French,
that their sails filled aback ; it was for the same reason extremely pro-
pitious to the English. Rodney took advantage of it instantly. He
bore rapidly down with the Formidable, the Nanlur, the Duke and the
Canada, and penetrated through the French line at the post occupied
by the Glorieux, which was completely dismasted, at the distance of
three ships from the Ville de Paris. His other ships were directed
by signa! to follow him. This order having been executed with great
promptitude, the whole British fleet found itself to windward of the
enemy's. From this moment the fate of the day could no longer be
doubtful. The English wore round close upon their adversaries,
who, broken and in total confusion, could ill withstand an enemy
fighting in compact line, and animated by the prospect of infallible
victory. The French protracted their resistance only by detached
groups, or partial engagements of ship with ship. Their desperate
situation, however, had not yet abated their courage. They endeav-
ored to re-establish the line to leeward, but all their efforts were vain,
though they signally honored their misfortune. The English of pref-
erence closed with those ships which they judged unable to escape
them. The Canada engaged the Hector, which did not surrender
till after having exhausted all its means of defense. The Centaur
attacked the Cesar ; they both remained entire. A furious action
ensued. The French captain would not surrender. Three other
ships of war assailed him ; but after his ship had been battered to
pieces, and his ensign-staff shot away, M. de Marigny, who com-
manded the Cesar, ordered his colors to be nailed to the mast, and
redoubled the fire of all his batteries. He was slain ; his successor
defended himself with the same courage. At length his mainmast
being fallen, and all his tackling destroyed, he yielded to number.
The captain of the Glorieux did not surrender till after the most hon-
orable resistance. The Ardent, after a no less gallant defense, fell
also into the power of the English. The Diademe, torn all to pieces,
went to the bottom. If all the French captains, whom fortune be-
trayed on this day, displayed an heroic bravery, none of them
deserved more lasting praises than the unfortunate count de Grasse.
He seemed inflexibly resolved rather to sink with his ship, than to sur-
render her to the enemy. Totally dismasted, and admitting the water
on all parts, the Ville de Paris, after a combat of ten hours, continued
to keep up a terrible fire with starboard and larboard guns. Captain
Cornwa'lis, in the Canada, appeared to rest his glory upon reducing
BOOK XV. THE AMERICAN WAR. 429
her ; but by her very mass she repulsed all his efforts ; six other
British ships joined the Canada, to give the final blows to the French
admiral, but still in vain. Several of his ships had attempted to
succor him ; at first his two seconds, the Languedoc and Couronne,
then the Pluton and the Triumphant. But, overwhelmed by num-
ber, the captains of these ships had been constrained to abandon
their captain-general to all the dangers of his position. The count
dc; Grasse found his last hope extinct ; his fleet, lately so flourishing,
were either dispersed or fallen into the power of the enemy, but hU
invincible courage refused to bend. He persisted in this manner,
facing with the most admirable intrepidity the repeated attempts that
were made upon- him from every quarter, till past six o'clock in the
afternoon. Admiral Hood's approach in the Barfleur, of ninety
guns, did not alter his determination. He bore a heavy fire from
him during some time, without any appearance of yielding ; and it
was not till after a dreadful destruction of his people that he con-
sented at last to strike. He and two more were the only men left
standing upon the upper deck. Thus fell into the hands of the
English the Ville de Paris, justly considered as one of the fairest
ornaments of the French marine. This magnificent ship had been
presented to Louis XV. by his capital, at the epoch of the disasters
occasioned by the war of Canada. It had cost four millions of livres.
Thirty-six chests of money, and the whole train of artillery, intended
for the attack on Jamaica, became the prey of the victors. The
English lost in this battle, and in that of the ninth, upwards of a
thousand men. The loss of the French was much more consid' ar-
able, without reckoning prisoners. The first had in particular to
regret the captains Bayne and Blair of the Alfred an^ Anson. Lord
Robert Manners, son of the marquis of Granby, a young man of the
greatest promise, survived his wounds but a short time. This day
cost life to six captains of French ships; among whom were the
viscount d'Escars and M. de la Clocheterie ; the first of the Glorieux,
the second of the Hercule.
To reap the fruits of his victory, admiral Rodney would have
wished to pursue the enemy after the battle. But as it grew dark,
he thought it necessary, in order to secure his prizes, and to afford
time for inquiring into the condition of the ships that had suffered
in the action, to bring to for the night. The following morning he
was still detained upon the coasts of Guadaloupe by a calm, which
lasted three days. Having at length examined the bays and harbors
of the neighboring French islands, and being satisfied that the ene-
my had sailed to leeward, Rodney dispatched sir Samuel Hood, whose
division being in the rear, and coming up late, had suffered but little
430 THE AMERICAN WAR. BOOK XV-
in the battle, to the west end of St. Domingo, in the hope that he
might be able to pick up some of their disabled ships. Hood was
afterwards to repair to Cape Tiberon, where admiral Rodney had
appointed to meet him with the rest of his fleet.
With the exception of some French ships, which M. de Bougainville
conducted to St. Eustatius to be repaired, all the others under the
marquis de Vaudreuil, keeping together in a body, made the best of
their way to Gape Francois. In the meantime, admiral Hood had
arrived in the waters of St. Domingo, and while cruising in the
Mora passage, which separates that island from Porto Rico, he de-
scried four sail of French vessels, two of the line, and two of less
force. These were the Jason and Caton, which were returning from
the anchorage of Guadaloupe, with the frigate Aimable and the sloop
of war Ceres. Their captains were not informed of the action of
the twelfth of April, and were pursuing their voyage in full security.
They fell into the midst of the squadron of sir Samuel Hood, who
had little difficulty in forcing them to surrender. A fifth sail, which
was discovered in the distance, had the fortune to escape the pursuit
of the English by an unexpected shift of wind in her favor. Thus
the French loss amounted to eight ships of the line ; but the Diademe
having been sunk, and the Cesar having blown up, there remained
but six in the possession of the English, as trophies of their victory.
Admiral Hood rejoined sir George Rodney off Cape Tiberon ;
the latter then proceeded with the disabled ships and the prizes to
Jamaica. The former remained, with twenty-five ships that had
suffered the least, in the waters of St. Domingo, to watch the enemy,
and prevent him from attempting any expedition of importance
against the British possessions. Though discouraged by the check
which they had just received, the allies were still formidable. They
had at Cape Francois twenty-three sail of the line, under the marquis
de Vaudreuil, and sixteen Spanish, commanded by don Solano.
Their land forces amounted to near twenty thousand men. They
relinquished, however, the enterprise of Jamaica, and indeed every
sort of aUempt in the West Indies. The Spaniards returned to the
Havanna. Some French ships took under their guard a convoy of
merchantmen, and arrived in Europe without accident. The mar
quis de Vaudreuil repaired with the rest of his fleet to the ports of
North America. Thus ended the projects against Jamaica, and all
this campaign in the West Indies. It produced afterwards one only
event ; the Bahama islands, which had hitherto served as a sheltej
for British privateers, surrendered the sixth of May to the Spanish
arms. The French obtained also another success in the most north-
ern regions of America ; a feeble compensation of their late losses.
BOOK XV. THE AMERICAN WAR. 431
The marquis de Vaudreuil, a little before his departure for the Unit-
ed States, had detached M. de la Peyrouse, with the ship of war
Sceptre, and the frigates Astree and Eiigageante. His instructions
were, to repair to Hudson's bay, and do all the harm possible to the
establishments of the British northwest company. The expedition
succeeded completely ; the English estimated the damage he caused
them at seven millions of livres. It was much 'more remarkable
for the almost insurmountable obstacles which the nature of the places
and climate presented to the F.ench, than for the resistance of their
enemies, whom they surprised in full security and without defense.
The coasts were difficult and little known, and the shoals very dan-
gerous. Though it was only the last of July when the ships of the
expedition arrived in Hudson's bay, yet the cold was already so
rigorous there, and the masses of floating ice so numerous, that they
were very near being shut up for the winter in those bleak and dis-
mal regions.
In the meantime, admiral Rodney had repaired to Jamaica ; he
had made a triumphal entry into the port of Kingston. The inhab-
itants of the island crowded with eagerness to behold their deliverer,
and to enjoy the spectacle of the victorious and of the captured ships.
But no object more excited their curiosity, than the French admiral
himself, who, already become illustrious by grea* success in America,
and ready but now to fall upon their island at tne head of the most
formidable armament, appeared there at present as a memorable
example of the caprices of fortune. The victory of Rodney and the
exultation of the colonists did not, however, cause them to forget
what generosity exacted of them towards an unfortunate enemy.
They loaded him -with all the attentions which they judged suitable
to console him.
Meanwhile, before the news of the victory of the -twelfth of April
had reached England, admiral Pigot had been appointed to the com-
mand of the West India fleet, in the room of Rodney. The lattei
obeyed without delay, and departed for Europe after having em-
barked the count de Grasse in the homeward bound Jamaica convoy.
The odious pillage committed at St. Eustatius, had brought Rodney
into great discredit with the public. His conduct had been censured
with extreme asperity even in parliament. The complaints which
arose on all parts against this admiral, might have contributed no less
to his recall than his attachment to the party in opposition to minis-
ters. But when arrived in England, he answered his accusers only
by showing them the count de Grasse prisoner. Immediately, the
infamous spoiler of St. Eustatius became the idol of the nation.
Those same individuals, who had inveighed against him with the most
432 THE AMERICAN WAR. BOOK XV.
vehemence, showed themselves the most forward to load him with
panegyric in the same measure.
The count de Grasse encountered in England the most honorable
reception ; he owed it perhaps as much to ostentation as to politeness.
As soon as he was arrived at London, he was presented to the king,
and waited on by all the great. The people assembled in throngs
before the hotel where he lodged ; forced to appear at the balcony, the
multitude greeted him with loud acclamations, and applauses without
end. They called him the brave, the valiant Frenchman. Such is
the fascination of courage even in an enemy ! In the public places
where the count made his appearance, numerous crowds gathered
about him, not to insult him, but, on the contrary, to pay him homage.
The enthusiasm of the people of London seemed to redouble, when
it was generally agreed to find him an English physiognomy. He
was obliged to consent to have his portrait painted ; copies of it
were profusely distributed throughout the country ; and who-
ever was without it, exposed himself to be accounted a bad patriot.
Admiral Rodney was created an English peer, by the title of lord
Rodney. Hood was honored with an Irish peerage ; Drake and
Affleck with baronetages.
The grief which the news of the disaster of the twelfth of April
produced in France, was the more profound, as it immediately
succeeded the most sanguine hope. But the French, constant in
their gayety. and intrepid by their nature, rapidly lose impressions of
sadness ; they soon resumed courage. The king was the first to give
the example of firmness ; it was imitated by all France. In order
to repair the losses of his marine, the monarch ordered the immediate
construction of^twelve ships of the line of one hundred and ten,
eighty, and seventy-four guns. The counts de Provence and d'Ar-
tois, his brothers, offered him each one of eighty ; the prince ot
Conde one of one hundred and ten, in the name of the states of
Burgundy. The chamber of commerce, with the six corps of re-
tailers of the city of Paris, the merchants of Marseilles, of Bordeaux.
of Lyons, resolved with the same zeal to furnish to the state each a
ship of one hundred and ten guns. The receivers-general of the
revenue, the farmers-general, and other financial companies, offered
to advance considerable sums. All these offers were accepted, but
not those which patriotism had dictated to private citizens ; the king,
not willing to increase the burdens that already weighed upon his
people, ordered the sums which had been subscribed or advanced
by particulars, to be placed again at their disposal. Thus the ardent
zeal which manifested itself in all parts towards the country and the
BOOK XV. THE AMERICAN VTAR. 433
sovereign, raised the French above the malice of adverse fortune,
and cheered them with new hopes of a brilliant future.
We have seen the war brought to an end upon the x\merican con-
tinent, by the irreparable check which the arms of England sustained
at Yorktown ; and we have also seen it suspended in the West Indies,
by the disaster of the French marine. We shall now return from
those distant regions, to consider the issue of this long and bloody
war in that part of the globe which we inhabit, and in those countries
whence it drew its principal aliment. The attention of all the in-
formed pert of mankind was turned upon the siege of Gibraltar.
For many ages, Europe had not witnessed an enterprise of this sort
which presented more formidable difficulties, or more important
results.
Admiral Howe had sailed for the relief of that fortress. Various
were the conjectures of men respecting the success of his efforts.
Some, full of confidence in the dexterity and audacity of the English,
inferred from the event of their preceding expeditions, the most favor-
able issue to this ; others, reflecting upon the naval superiority of the
allied courts, and impressed with esteem for the talents and valor of
the count de Guichen and don Lewis de Cordova, formed a contrary
opinion. In one place, the extraordinary preparations that had been
made and were still making by the besiegers, appeared to answer
for the approaching fall of Gibraltar. In another, on the contrary,
the strength of its position, the perfection of its works, and the intre-
pidity of its defenders, seemed to place it beyond the reach of dan-
ger. Every where but one opinion prevailed upon this point ; that
the obstacles were numerous, and that blood must stream copiously
before they were all surmounted. But the very hazards of this great
enterprise so inflamed the valor of all warlike men, that even those who
were not called to take an active part in it, wished at least to be
spectators of the glorious scenes that were about to be represented;
at the foot of this formidable rock. Hence it was, that not only from
France and Spain, but also from Germany, and the remoter regions
of the north, the most distinguished personages were seen hastening
to arrive at the camp of St. Roch, and in the port of Algesiras.
Even those nations which are accounted barbarous, and who have
communicated that appellation to so large and so fine a portion of
Africa, were seized with an irresistible curiosity ; they repaired to
the nearest shores in order to contemplate a spectacle so new for
them. All was in movement in the camp, in the arsenals, and aboard
the fleets of the allies. From the summit of his rock, Elliot awaited
with an heroic constancy the attack with which he was menaced.
But before relating the memorable events that ensued, it appears to
VOL. u. 28
434 THE AMERICAN WAR. BOOK XV.
us necessary to enter into a description of the places, and of the
works within and without the citadel ; and to trace an outline of the
plans and preparations of the besiegers.
The fortress of Gibraltar is seated upon a rock which projects in
.the form of a tongue for the space of a league, from north to south,
out of the continent of Spain, and which is terminated by a promon-
tory called the point of Europe. The top of this rock is eleva ted n
thousand feet above the level of the sea. Its eastern flank, or that
which looks towards the Mediterranean, is entirely composed of a
living rock, and so perpendicularly steep as to be absolutely inacces-
sible. The point of Europe, which is also of solid rock, slopes and
terminates in an esplanade, which rises twenty feet above the sea ;
here the English had planted a battery of twenty pieces of heavy
artillery. Behind this point the promontory dilates, and there is
formed a second esplanade, which overlooks the first, and affords
space enough for the troops of the garrison to parade in without diffi-
culty. As the declivity is gentle, and of easy access, the English
have made cuts in the rock in front, and surrounded the platform with
a wall fifteen feet in height and as many in thickness, copiously fur-
nished with artillery. Within this platform they have constructed,
besides, an intrenched camp, which offers them a secure retreat in
case they should be driven from their outer works. From this post
they communicate with another still more elevated, and situated
among steep and irregular masses ; here the besieged had established
their camp. Upon the western flank of the promontory, and upon
the seashore, the town of Gibraltar itself occupied a long and narrow
space. It had been almost totally destroyed by the artillery, in one
of the preceding attacks. It is closed on the south by a wall, on the
north by an ancient fortification called the castle of the Moors, and in
front, next the sea, by a parapet sixteen feet thick, and furnished
from distance to distance with batteries, which fire level with the
water. Behind the town, the mountain rises abruptly quite to its
summit. The English, for the greater security of this part, have
constructed two other works, which project considerably into the sea.
Both are armed with formidable batteries. The first, which looks to
the north, is called the Old Mole ; the second the New Mole. Not
content with these defenses, they have erected in front of the castle of
the Moors, and of Old Mole, another work consisting in two bastions,
connected by a curtain, of which the scarp and covered way, being
well countermined throughout, are very difficult to mine. The object
of this construction is to sweep, by a raking fire, that narrow strip of
land which runs between the rock and the sea, and which forms the
only communicatio i of the Spanish continent with the fortress. In
BOOK XV. THE AMERICAN WAR. 435
the front of this work, the water of the sea had been introduced by
means of dikes and sluices, which, forming a pool or fen, adds rauch
ro the strength of this part. The north side, or that which faces
Spain, is by far the loftiest flank of the rock. It fronts the camp oi
St. Roch, and presents upon all its surface a prodigious quantity of
batteries which descend in tiers towards the Spanish camp. Thus
art had combined with nature to make of this immense rock an im-
pregnable citadel. Between the promontory of Gibraltar and the
coast of Spain, lies, towards the west, a deep gap filled by the waters
of the sea ; it is the bay of Gibraltar or of Algesiras. The port and
city of this name are situated upon the western shore of the bay.
The garrison of Algesiras amounted to little over seven thousand
men, with about two hundred and fifty officers. Such was the nature
of that rock, against which the Spanish monarchy displayed the
greatest part of its forces, and invoked besides the powerful assist-
ance of France. This enterprise was the object of the most ardent
wishes of Charles III. ; he considered the honor of his crown as
deeply interested in its success. The king of France, likewise saw
in the reduction of Gibraltar the termination of the war. In order
to push the operations of the siege and secure its success, the con-
duct of it was committed to the duke de Crillon ; the, public opinion
designated the victor of Minorca as the conqueror of Gibraltar.
The preparations directed against this place exceeded every thing
that had ever been heard of in like circumstances. Upwards of
twelve hundred pieces of heavy cannon, eighty-three thousand bar-
rels of powder, a proportionable quantity of bombs and balls, were
destined to batter the works of the English. Forty gunboats, with
as many bomb ketches, were to open their fire on the side of the bay,
under cover of a formidable fleet of fifty sail of the line, twelve
French, the others Spanish. Frigates and light vessels hovered in
front of this line, in waiting to carry succor wherever it might be
wanted. Upwards of three hundred large boats had been assembled
from all parts of Spain, which came to join the immense number
already in the bay of Algesiras. It was intended to employ them,
during the attack, in carrying munitions and necessaries to the ships
of war, and in landing the troops as soon as the works should be
ruined. Nor were the preparations by land inferior to those that were
made by sea. The Spaniards had already advanced by sap; and their
lines, as soon as they were terminated, presented an astonishing
number of batteries of heavy artillery. Twelve thousand French
troops were brought to diffuse their peculiar vivacity and animation
through the Spanish army, as well as for tie benefit to be derived
from the example and exertions of their sup< rior discipline and expo-
436 THE AMERICAN WAR. BOOK XV.
lience. At sight of the immense warlike apparatus assembled against
the place, and of the ardor manifested by the soldiers, the generals
who directed the siege considered themselves as so sure of success,
that they were upon the point of ordering, without further delay, a
general assault. They had resolved, that while the land forces should
assail the fortress on the side of the isthmus, the fleet should batter
it upon all the points contiguous to the sea. They hoped that the
garrison, already little numerous, experiencingbesides a great diminu-
tion in dead and wounded, would be totally incapable of sufficing for
the defense of so extensive works. The loss of some thousands of
men, and several ships of the line, would have seemed to the be-
siegers but a slender price for so inestimable a conquest. Mean-
while, the project of an attack by main force was not adopted by all
the members of the council. Those who blamed its temerity,
observed, that until the defenses of the place on the land side were
entirely prostrated, to attempt the assault would be sending the
troops to a certain death, without any hope of success. On the part
of the sea, they showed that an attack would be attended with the
inevitable destruction of the ships, without producing the smallest
effect upon the fortress. ' Nevertheless,' they added, ' as a simple
attack by land must necessarily be fruitless, it is highly desirable that
a kind of ships could be procured more capable of resisting artillery
than those of an ordinary construction.' It could not be expected to
carry Gibraltar by an attack of short duration ; but was it possible
to prolong it without hazarding the ruin of the fleet ? This considera-
tion occupied the thought of several men of talents. They present-
ed plans of various inventions, all having for object to facilitate the
battering of the fortress on the part of the sea. These schemes
were examined with extreme attention. Several were rejected as
incompetent to the purpose in view, none as too expensive. At
length, after long deliberation, it was agreed to adopt the plan of the
chevalier d'Arcon, a French engineer of high note ; it was thought
ingenious and infallible. His project went to the construction of
floating batteries, or ships, upon such a principle, that they could nei-
ther be sunk nor fired. The first of these properties was to be
acquired by the extraordinary thickness of timber, with which their
keels and bottoms were to be fortified ; the second, by securing the
sides of the ships, wherever they were exposed to shot, with a strong
wall, composed of timber and cork, a long time soaked in water, and
including between a large body of wet sand. But the ingenious
projector, not being yet satisfied with his work, and wishing to render
it more proof against the redhot shot from the fortress, executed a
contrivance for communicating water in every direction to restrain
BOOK XV. THE AMERICAN WAR. 437
its effect. In imitation of the circulation of the blood in a living
body, a great variety of pipes and canals perforated all the solid
workmanship, in such a manner, that a continued succession of
water was to be conveyed to every part of the vessels ; a number of
pumps being adapted to the purpose of an unlimited supply. By
th-is means, it was expected that the redhot shot would operate to
the remedy of its own mischief; as the very action of cutting through
those pipes would procure its immediate extinction.
To protect his floating batteries from bombs, and the men at the
batteries from grape or descending shot, the chevalier d'Arcon had
contrived a hanging roof, which was to be worked up and down with
ease, and at pleasure. The roof was composed of a strong rope-
work netting, laid over with a thick covering of wet hides ; while its
sloping position was calculated to prevent the shells from lodging, and
to throw them off into the sea before they could take effect. Al'
this scaffolding was constructed upon the hulks of great ships, from
six hundred to fourteen hundred tons burthen, cut down to the state
required by the plan. There were ten of these floating batteries;
they were armed in all with a hundred and fifty-four pieces of heavy
brass cannon, that were mounted ; and something about half the
number of spare guns were kept ready to supply the place of those
which might be overheated, or otherwise disabled in action. The
Pastora alone, which was the largest, carried twenty-four in battery,
and twelve in reserve. The Talla Piedra, commanded by the
prince of Nassau, and the Paula, which was also one of the stoutest,
mounted a no less numerous artillery. That its fire might not be
slackened by losses in dead or wounded, thirty-six men, as well
Spaniards as French, were allotted to the service of each piece.
The command of this flotilla had been confided to admiral don
Moreno, a seaman of equal valor and ability, who had served with
distinction at the siege of Port Mahon. The vast bulk of the bat-
tering ships, the materials employed in their construction, and the
weight of their artillery, seemed likely to render them extremely
heavy and unmanageable. They were, however, rigged with so much
skill and ingenuity, that they executed their various evolutions with
all the ease and dexterity of frigates.
When all these preparations were completed, there were few per-
sons in the camp of the besiegers who did not consider the fall of a
place so vigorously attacked as inevitable. It was at this epoch,
towards the middle of August, that two French princes arrived at
the army before Gibraltar ; the count d'Artois, and the duke de
Bourbon. The object of their mission was to animate the troops by
their presence, and that they might themselves come in for a siiare of
438 THE AMERICAN WAR. BOOK XV.
the glory of so signal and illustrious an enterprise. The army
were impatient to receive the signal of attack ; their ardor had more
need of restraint than incitement. So sanguine was the general
hope, that the duke de Crillon was thought extremely cautious of
hazarding an opinion, when he allowed so long a term as fourteen
days to the certainty of being in possession of Gibraltar. Twenty-
four hours appeared more than sufficient.
The arrival of the French princes afforded an opportunity for the
display of that politeness, and the exercise of those humanized atten-
tions and civilities, by which the refined manners of modern Europe
have tended so much to divest war of many parts of its ancient
savage barbarity. The Spaniards had intercepted some packets,
containing a number of letters directed to the officers in Gibraltar,
and had transmitted them to the court of Madrid, where they lay
at the time that the count d'Artois arrived at that capital. The
French prince obtained the packets from the king, and on his arrival
at the camp, had them forvvarded to their address. The duke de
Crillon sent with them a letter to general Elliot, in which, besides
informing him of this particular mark of attention shown by the count
d'Artois, he farther acquainted him that he was charged by the
French princes, respectively, to convey to the general the strongest
expressions of their regard and esteem for his person and character.
He requested, in the most obliging terms, that he would accept of a
present of fruit and vegetables, for his own use, which accompanied
the letter, and of some ice and partridges for the gentlemen of his
household ; farther entreating, that as he knew the general lived
entirely upon vegetables, he would acquaint him with the particular
kinds which he liked best, with a view to his regular supply. Gene-
ral Elliot answered with the same politeness ; he returned many
thanks to the princes and the duke de Crillon, for the flattering
attentions they were pleased to show him. But he informed the
duke that in accepting the present, he had broken through a resolu-
tion which he had invariably adhered to from the commencement
of the war, which was, never to receive, or to procure by any means
whatever, any provisions or other commodity for his own private use ;
and that he made it a point of honor, to partake of both plenty and
scarcity, in common with the lowest of his brave fellow-soldiers. He
therefore entreated the duke not to heap any more favors of the
same kind upon him, as he could not in future apply them to his
own use. This exchange of courtesies was deemed worthy of their
authors, and of the sovereigns they represented.
But while these civilities were passing, as in the midst of profound
peace, the dispositions were in process for redoubling the horrors of
BOOK XV. THE AMERICAN WAR 439
war. Elliot had hitherto observed in a sort of inaction the pr epara
lions of the besiegers, when all of a sudden he saw issuing from the
port of Algesiras the enormous masses of the floating batteries. If
his courage was not shaken, he could not, however, but feel at least a
strong emotion of surprise. In this uncertainty as to what might be
the effect of those new invented machines, prudence urged him to
make every defensive preparation that was calculated to elude and
defeat it. Confiding, moreover, in the strength of the place, and
the valor of his garrison, he was under no apprehension for the issue
of the approaching attack. He did more ; he resolved to anticipate
it, by attacking himself. The besiegers had pushed their works with
so much diligence that some of them were already far advanced
towards the fortress. The governor determined to try how far a
vigorous cannonade and bombardment with redhot balls, carcasses,
and shells, might operate to their destruction. A powerful and
admirably directed firing accordingly commenced from the garrison,
at seven o'clock in the morning of the eighth of September. By
ten o'clock, the Mahon battery, with another adjoining to it, were in
flames ; and by five in the evening were entirely consumed, togethei
with their gun-carriages, platforms and magazines, although the latter
were bomb proof. A great part of the communications to the east-
ern parallel, and of the trenches and parapet for musketry, were
likewise destroyed ; and a large battery near the bay suffered exces-
sively ; the works were on fire in fifty places at the same instant. It
was not without extreme exertions and considerable loss that the
besiegers at length succeeded in extinguishing the flames, and pre-
serving their works from total destruction.
This affront was so much resented by the duke de Crillon, that
having pressed the reparation of his works during the night, he
unmasked all his batteries by break of day on the following morn-
ing ; they mounted one hundred and ninety-three pieces of cannon
and mortars, and continued to pour their fire of shot and shells, with-
out intermission, upon the garrison, through the whole course of the
day. At the same time, a part of the fleet, taking the advantage of
a favorable wind, dropped down from the Orange Grove at the head
of the bay, and passing slowly along the works, discharged their shot
at the Old Mole and the adjoining bastions, continuing their cannon-
ade until they had passed Europa Point and got into the Mediterra-
nean. They then formed a line to the eastward of the rock, and
the admiral leading, came to the attack of the batteries on the point,
and under a very slow sail, commenced a heavy fire with all their
guns. But these combined efforts did very little harm to the besieg-
440 THE AMERICAN WAR. BOOK XV.
ed. There prevailed for some days a calm, which was soon to be
interrupted by a most sanguinary combat.
The thirteenth of September was destined to witness an ever
memorable conflict. History, in effect, presents nothing more terri-
ble for the desperate fierceness and resolution of the two parties, nor
more singular for the species of arms, nor more glorious for the
humanity manifested by the conquerors. The season beginning to
be late, and admiral Howe approaching with intent to re-victual Gib-
raltar, the allied commanders felt the necessity of precipitating the
attack they meditated. According to the plan agreed upon, the
artillery of the lines, the floating batteries, the ships of war and gun-
boats were to attack the place upon all points at once. While the
cannon, mortars and howitzers of the isthmus kept up a heavy fire
on the land side, it was intended that the floating batteries should
direct their fire against the works which commanded the bay, taking
their station in front of the Old Mole. At the same time, the gun
and mortar boats, with the bomb-ketches, taking post on the two
flanks of the line of battering ships, were to enfilade the British
artillery which defended the fortifications constructed upon the
margin of the sea. As to the fleet, it was destined to concur no less
effectually to the attack, according to the wind or the necessity of
the service. In this manner, the fortress would be battered simulta
neously by four hundred pieces of ordnance, without including the
artillery afloat.
General Elliot, on his part, had neglected nothing that could ena-
ble him to make a vigorous defense. The soldiers were at their
posts, the artillerists at their places with lighted matches ; numerous
furnaces were prepared for heating the shot. At seven in the morn-
ing, the ten battering ships, under the conduct of admiral don Mo-
reno, put themselves in motion. Between nine and ten they came
to an anchor, being moored in a line, at moderate distances, from
the Old to the New Mole, lying parallel to the rock, and at about
nine hundred yards distance. The admiral's ship was stationed
opposite the king's bastion ; and the others took their appointed
places successively, and with great regularity, on his right and left.
The cannonade and bombardment, on all sides, and in all directions,
from the isthmus, the sea, and the various works of the fortress, was
not only tremendous, but beyond example. The prodigious showers
of redhot balls, of bombs, and of carcasses, which filled the air, and
were without intermission thrown to every point of the various
attacks, both by sea and by land, from the garrison, astonished even
the commanders of the allied forces. The battering ships, however,
appeared to be the principal objects of vengeance, as they were of
BOOK XV. THE AMERICAN WAR. 441
apprehension, to the garrison ; but such was the excellence of their
construction that they not only resisted this terrible fire, but answer-
ed it with equal fury ; and already they had operated a breach in
the works of the Old Mole. The result of so many mutual efforts
seemed for a long time uncertain. At length, however, some smoke
began to issue from the upper part of the battering ships Pastora and
Talla Piedra. It was caused by some redhot balls, which had pi. ne-
trated so far into their sides, that they could not be extinguished by
the water of the internal canals. They had set fire to the contiguous
parts, which, after smouldering for some time, suddenly broke out in
flames. The men were seen, at the hazard of life, using fire
engines, and pouring water into the shot-holes. This fire, though
kept under during the continuance of daylight, could never be
thoroughly subdued. The disorder in these two commanding ships
in the center, affected the whole line of attack : and by the evening
the fire from the fortress had gained a decided superiority. The fire
was continued from the batteries in the fortress with equal vigor
through the night, and by one o'clock in the morning the first two
batteries were in flames, and the others visibly on fire, whether by
the effect of the redhot shot, or, as the Spaniards pretended, that
they were purposely set on fire, when it appeared no longer possible
to save them. The confusion was now extreme. Rockets were
continually thrown up by each of the ships, as signals to the fleet of
their distress and danger. These signals were immediately answer-
ed, and all means used by the fleet to afford the assistance they
required ; but as it was deemed impossible to remove the battering
ships, their endeavors were only directed to bringing off the men. A
great number of boats were accordingly employed, and great intre-
pidity displayed, in the attempts for this purpose ; the danger from
the burning vessels, filled as they were with instruments of destruc-
tion, appearing no less dreadful than the fire from the garrison,
terrible as that was, since the light thrown out on all sides by the
flames afforded the utmost precision in its direction. Never, per-
haps, has a more deplorable spectacle passed before the eyes of
men. The thick darkness which covered the land and waters in the
distance contrasted with the frightful glare of the flames which de-
voured so many victims ; in the midst of the roar of artillery their
dolorous cries were audible. A new incident occurred to interrupt
tho attempts that were made for their rescue, and to complete the
general confusion and destruction. Captain Curtis, a seaman as
able as he was adventurous, advanced at this moment with twelve
gunboats, each carrying one eighteen or twenty-four pounder. They
had been constructed to oppose those of the Spaniards, and their low
442 THE AMERICAN WAR.
fire anil fixed aim rendered them extremely formidable. Captain
Curtis drew them up in such a manner as to flank the line of batter-
ing ships. The scene was wrought up by this fierce and unexpect-
ed attack to the highest point of calamity. The Spanish boats dared
no longer to approach, and were compelled to the hard necessity of
abandoning their ships and friends to the flames, or to the mercy of
a heated and irritated enemy. Several of their boats and launches
had been sunk before they submitted to this necessity ; and one in
particular, with fourscore men on board, who were all drowned,
excepting an officer and twelve men, who, having the fortune to float
on the wreck under the walls, were taken up by the garrison. Some
feluccas had taken shelter upon the coast during the night, but as
soon as the day appeared, the English soon compelled them to sur-
render. It seemed that nothing could have exceeded the horrors of
the night ; but the opening of daylight disclosed a spectacle still more
dreadful. Numbers of men were seen in the midst of the flames,
crying out for pity and help; others floating upon pieces of timber,
exposed to an equal though less dreadful danger from the opposite
element. Even those in the ships, where the fire had yet made a
less progress, expressed in their looks, gestures, and words, the
deepest distress and despair, and were no less urgent in imploring
assistance. Moved with compassion at this dismal scene, the Eng-
lish discontinued their fire, and thought only of saving the enemy
they had vanquished ; a conduct the more generous, as it was
attended with manifest peril. Captain Curtis in particular acquired
an imperishable glory, by showing himself regardless of his own
existence in his endeavors to preserve that of his enemies. He
advanced intrepidly with his boats towards the burning ships, in
order to rescue those who were about to become the prey of the
one or other element. He was himself the first to rush on board
the blazing batteries, and to set the example of dragging with his
own hands the terrified victims from the jaws of destruction. Mean-
while death hovered incessantly round him. He was equally expos-
ed to the peril arising from the blowing up of the ships as the fire
reached their magazines, and to the continual discharge on all sides
of the artillery, as the guns became to a certain degree heated.
Several of his people were killed or severely wounded in this honor-
able enterprise. He was near sharing the fate of one of the largest
ships, which blew up only a few moments after he left her. Near four
hundred men were thus saved, by the noble exertions of Curtis, from
inevitable death. The French and Spaniards, however, lost no less
than fifteen hundred men, including the prisoners and wounded, in
the attack by sea. The wounded that fell into the power of the
BOOK XV. THE AMERICAN WAR. 443
conqueror were carried to the hospitals of the fortress, and treated
with the greatest humanity. Nine floating batteries were burnt by
the redhot shot, or by the Spaniards themselves. The tenth was
burnt by the English when they found she could not be brought off.
Their loss was inconsiderable ; it amounted, according to their
account, since the ninth of August, to no more than sixty-five killed,
and three hundred and eighty-eight wounded. The fortifications
received but slight damage ; or at least not so considerable as to
afford any room for future apprehension.
In this manner was victory obtained with lasting glory to general
Elliot, and the whole garrison of Gibraltar. The treasures which
the king of Spain had expended for the construction of these enor-
mous machines, the bravery and perseverance of his troops, the valor
and spirit of the French, were all in vain.
It cannot indeed be positively affirmed, that if such formidable
means of attack had even been employed in all their efficacy, ana
according to the intention of the generals, they would have sufficed
to carry the place ; but neither can it be denied that the allies com*
rnitted several faults of no little importance. The first was undoubt
edly that of having hurried on the attack before M. d'Arcon had
been able to bring his floating batteries to that degree of perfection
which he could have wished. By working the pumps, he had per-
ceived that the water of the pipes leaked upon the inward parts, and
that the powder was exposed to be wet by it, and rendered unfit for
use. He would have found a remedy for this inconvenience ; but
he was not allowed time to seek it. The inner pipes were therefore
stopped up, and only the outer ones filled with water, which were
found an insufficient defense against the effect of the redhot shot.
It is, besides, to be considered that don Moreno was ordered so ab-
ruptly to repair to the attack from the point of Majorca, that he found
it impossible to form the line of his floating batteries in front of the
Old Mole, as contemplated in the plan of attack. From that point
his fire would assuredly have been more efficacious, and he might
also have retired thence without difficulty if he had thought it neces-
sary ; but he was constrained to take post between the Old and the
New Mole. Nor did the Spanish gunboats answer the general ex-
pectation, whether they were in effect opposed by the wind, as was
pretended, or that their spirit of adventure sunk under the dreadful
fire from the garrison Only two of them took any considerable share
in the attack. The great fleet itseli ^ remained in a state of almost
total inaction. It is uncertain whether this failure should be attrib-
uted to an unfavorable wind, or to secret jealousies between the land
and sea commanders. The batteries on shore, whatever was the
444 THE AMERICAN WAB. BOOK XV.
cause of it, were equally far from performing the services which
were expected from them". *»Their fire was neither so well supported,
nor so well directed as it should have been. It resulted from these
several causes, that the garrison, instead of being disquieted upon all
points at the same instant, found themselves at liberty to direct the
whole weight and force of their fire against the floating batteries.
In this manner was disconcerted the most ingenious design which
for a long time had been framed by the wisdom of man. The most
sanguine hopes suddenly gave place to the opinion, that Gibraltar
was not only the strongest place known, but that it was absolutely
inexpugnable.
Convinced by this attack, that a regular siege could not have the
desired issue, the allied commanders resolved to convert it into a
blockade, and to await from famine what they despaired of obtaining
by dint of arms. It was therefore of the highest importance to pre-
vent admiral Howe from throwing into the place the intended relief.
The combined fleet had accordingly taken its anchorage in the
bay of Algesiras, to the number of about fifty sail of the line ; among
which were five of one hundred and ten guns, and the Trinidad, of
one hundred and twelve. The design of don Lewis de Cordova,
the commander of these forces, was to engage the British fleet as
soon as it should appear, while his light squadron should give chase
to the transports, and capture them, one after another. It is not easy
to explain why thw admiral, instead of advancing to meet the enemy
off Cape St. Mary, where he would have been able to display his
whole line, took the determination to await him in a narrow bay,
where the number of his ships, so far from being an advantage, could
only tend to embarrass him. It appears that this disposition ema-
nated immediately from the king of Spain, whose thoughts were all
absorbed in the conquest of Gibraltar.
In the meantime, admiral Howe met with much delay through
contrary winds and unfavorable weather, on his way to Gibraltar.
His anxiety was therefore extreme, lest the place should find itself
necessitated to surrender before the arrival of succors. It was not
till the fleet had arrived near the scene of action that his apprehen
eions were removed, by intelligence received from the coast of Por-
tugal, of the total discomfiture of the combined forces. This news
increased his hope of succeeding in his enterprise ; he calculated
that the enemy, discouraged by so severe a check, would show him-
self less eager to encounter him. Near the mouth of the straits he
met with a furious gale of wind,' which damaged several of his ships.
The combined fleet suffered much more in the bay of Algesiras.
One ship of the line was driven ashore near the city of that name;
BOOK XV. THE AMERICAN WAR. 445
another fine Spanish ship, of seventy-two guns, was driven across
the bay, under the works of Gibraltar, and was taken by the boats of
the garrison. Two more were driven to the eastward into the Med-
iterranean ; others lost masts or bowsprits ; and many suffered more
or less damage.
On the morning that succeeded the storm, the British fleet entered
the straits' mouth in a close line of battle ahead, and in the evening
of the same day it was opposite the port of Gibraltar ; but the wind
failing, only four victualing ships could enter the harbor. The rest
of the transports, with the squadron, were drifted by the currents into
the Mediterranean. The combined fleet took the same direction.
A general action seemed inevitable ; a calm and fog which came up.
prevented it ; or perhaps the admirals themselves were not disposed
to engage, without all probabilities of success. However it was,
admiral Howe, profiting dexterously of an east wind which sprung up
in the strait, passed his whole convoy to Gibraltar harbor. To cover
this operation, the British fleet had formed in order of battle at the
mouth of the straits, fronting the Mediterranean, between the op-
posite points of Europa and Ceuta.
The combined fleets then made their appearance, bearing directly
down upon the enemy ; but the British admiral considering that the
re-victualing of Gibraltar, the principal object of his mission, was
accomplished, he saw that it would be the highest imprudence and
rashness to hazard an action in the strait. He knew the superiority
of force that he would have to encounter ; and he could not but per-
ceive that the vicinity of the enemy's coasts would exceedingly aggra-
vate, for him, the consequences of a defeat. He chose, if he was
obliged to come to action, to have sea room enough, in order, by his
evolutions, to prevent its being decisive, as it must necessarily be in
a confined space. Under these considerations, he took the advan-
tage of a favorable wind, and re-passed the straits into the Atlantic.
The allies followed him with only a part of their fleet. Twelve
of their largest ships of the line, being heavy sailers, were left behind.
Meanwhile their van came within reach of the British rear, and there
immediately ensued between them abrisk, though distant cannonade,
the only effect of which was to damage some vessels on both sides.
Profiting of their superiority of sailing, the English drew off* to such
a distance, that the allies lost all hope of coming up with them. They
then took the resolution of repairing to Cadiz. Admiral Howe de-
tached eight of his ships for the West Indies, six others to the coasts
of Ireland, and returned with the rest to Portsmouth. The destruc-
tion of the floating batteries and the re-victualing of Gibraltar,
relieved England from all disquietude respecting the fate of that
446 THE AMERICAN WAR. BOOK XV.
place. This double success was no less glorious for her arms, than
afflicting for the enemies she combated. The allies are reproached
with having shown upon land too much precipitancy and too little
concord ; upon sea, too much indecision and too little spirit. In this
occurrence, as in those which had preceded it. the display of their
great naval forces had resulted in little more than a vain parade. It
is, however, to be considered, that if, during the course of all this
war, the fleets of the allied courts gained no brilliant advantages, or
rather sustained reverses, in general actions, their seamen more often
than once acquired signal renown in particular engagements of ship
with ship. The French, especially, manifested in these rencounters
a valor and ability alike worthy of admiration, and often crowned
with victory. We leave those to account for this difference who
arc more versed than ourselves in naval tactics.
The events which we have related, as well in this as in the fore-
going book, had occasioned among the belligerent powers an ardent
desire, or rather an avowed will, to put an end to the wan. On all
sides, a hope was cherished that an honorable adjustment would soon
be brought about. Several successive campaigns, without any im-
portant advantage, and the loss of the army taken at Yorktown, with
lord Cornwallis, had at length convinced the British ministry of the
impossibility of subjugating the Americans by force of arms. The
maneuvers employed to divide them among themselves, or to detach
them from their allies, had not been attended with any better success
than military operations. On the other hand, the victories of Rod-
ney and Elliot had not only dissipated all fears for the West Indies
and Gibraltar, but also put in safety the honor of Great Britain.
With the exception of the independence of the United States, which
she could no longer refuse to acknowledge, she found herself in a
situation to treat upon a footing of equality with her enemies relative
to all other articles. Victorious at Gibraltar, holding the scale of
fortune even in the seas of Europe, she had caused it to incline in
her favor in the West Indies. If she had sustained sensible losses
in that quarter, she had, however, acquired the island of St. Lucia,
so important from its strength, the excellence of its ports, and the
advantages of its position. Although it could not be considered as a
sufficient indemnification on the. part of Great Britain for the loss of
Dominica, Grenada, Tobago, and St. Christophers, yet England had
made so considerable conquests in the East Indies that she brought
into a negotiation more objects of exchange than France could offer.
But all these considerations yielded to another of far greater mo-
ment; the public debt of Great Britain, already enonnou-; expe-
rienced every day an alarming augmentation. The people did not
BOOK XV. THE AMERICAN WAR. 447
conceal their desire for the return of peace, and the protraction ol
the war excited public murmurs. The ministers themselves, who
had so severely censured the obstinacy of their predecessors in con-
tinuing the war, openly inclined for peace ; whether because they
thought it really necessary, or that they were afraid of incurring
similar reproaches. An untimely death had carried off the marquis
of Rockingham, who, in the general direction of affairs, had concili-
ated universal esteem, and Fox had resigned. The first had been
replaced by the earl of Shelburne, and the second by William Pitt,
son of the earl of Chatham ; both known for consenting rather from
necessity than choice to the independence of America. The ma-
jority of the ministry, however, was composed of those who had
obtained the repeal of the rigorous laws against the Americans, and
who had afterwards distinguished themselves in parliament by advo-
cating with singular warmth and eloquence an early acknowledg-
ment of their independence. It was therefore determined to send
Thomas Grenville to Paris, in order to sound the intentions of the
Frenchgovernment,and to prepare the ways for the plenipotentiaries
that were to follow him. A short time after, in effect, M. Fitz Her-
bert and M. Oswald repaired to the French capital in that character;
they had little difficulty in penetrating the dispositions of the court of
Versailles. The United States had taken care that their plenipo-
tentiaries should assemble at Paris in this conjuncture ; they were
John Adams, Benjamin Franklin, John Jay, and Henry Laurens^
who had recently been released from his detention in the tower of
London.
If great was the desire of peace in England, it was not less ar-
dently wished for in France, as well by the government as by the
people. The court of Versailles had attained the object it had most
at heart, that is, the separation of the British colonies from the mother
country. The first of the proposals of the court of London was, in
effect, to acknowledge the independence of the United States ; and
this was the principal, and indeed the only avowed motive of France
for taking up arms. As to the situation of affairs in the West Indies,
the operations that were in contemplation against those islands, inter-
ested Spain much more than France. And, besides, the discomfiture
of the twelfth of April had deranged all plans, and extinguished all
hopes. Nor was there any room to expect better fortune in the seas
of Europe, since their empire had already been disputed for several
years, without the occurrence of any decisive event.
The losses which France had sustained in the East Indies, might
counterbalance the conquests she had made in the West. Upon the
whole, therefore, she found herself in a condition to treat for herself
443 THE AMERICAN WAR. BOOK XV.
on equal terms with respect to the chances of war, and upon a foot-
ing of decided superiority in regard to its principal cause ; the inde-
pendence of the United States. Independent of the foregoing
considerations, there existed others which powerfully urged a speedy
re-establishment of peace. The finances were exhausted ; and not-
withstanding the judicious regulations and economy which the govern-
ment had endeavored to introduce into all the departments, the
resources were no longer in proportion to the exorbitant charges of
the war. The expenditure exceeded the receipt, and every day
beheld the increase of the public debt. The re-establishment of the
marine, expeditions in distant countries, the capture of several
convoys which it had been necessary to replace, such were at first
the charges which consumed the royal treasure. The Americans
afterwards, deprived in a g-reat measure of all revenue by the slow-
ness with which taxes were paid in their country, authorized them-
selves, from the insufficiency of their means, to present incessantly
new demands to the court of Versailles. After having permitted the
farmers-general to lend them a million of livres, after having guaran-
teed the loans which they had negotiated in Holland, Louis XVI.
had advanced them himself eighteen millions, and they still solicited
six others. The French, at this epoch, had applied themselves with
singular ardor to the extension of their commerce. The war had
proved extremely prejudicial to it, and the merchants who had been
the greatest sufferers could no longer hope to retrieve their losses,
but by the cessation of hostilities. All these considerations led to a
general opinion, that to the possibility of concluding an honorable
peace, was added the expediency and even the necessity of so doing.
As to Spain, the hope of conquering Gibraltar and Jamaica had
been annihilated by the fatal days of the twelfth of April and the
thirteenth of September. The continuation of the war, with a view
to these two objects, would therefore have been rather the effect of
obstinacy than of constancy. On the other hand, the court of Madrid
had acquired by its arms the province of West Florida and the island
of Minorca. As England had no compensation to offer it for these two
acquisitions, it was natural to think that a treaty of peace would con-
firm the possession of them to Spain. Though her views had been
aimed much higher, these advantages were at least sufficient to pre-
vent the Spaniards from complaining that they had taken part in the
war without any personal interest, and through mere complaisance.
It had never ceased to excite general surprise that the court of
Madrid should have furnished fuel to a conflagration which might
become so fatal to itself, in taking part in a war whose professed ob-
ject was that of establishing an independent republic in the immediate
BOOK XV. THE AMERICAN WAR. 449
vicinity of her Mexican possessions. The contagion of example, the
i-eduction of novelty, the natural proclivity of men to shake off tho
yoke, afforded, without doubt, reasonable grounds of apprehension
and alarm. But if Spain had interfered in this great quarrel against
her particular interests, she would have been doubly blamable in
lavishing so much blood and treasure to prolong it, especially since
the possession of Minorca and West Florida secured her honorable
conditions. This power therefore inclined also towards the genera]
pacification.
It remains for us to cast a glance upon the Dutch. Following
their allies at a distance, rather than marching at their side, they were
constrained by their position to will whatever France willed. It was-
only from that power, and not from their own forces, that they could
expect the termination of their disquietudes. If they had recovered
St. Eustatius and Demerary, were they not indebted for it entirely
to the arms of the king of France ? They wished therefore for
peace, since experience had taught them that war could yield them
no advantage, and that it is never more detrimental than to a peo-
ple whose existence is founded upon commerce.
To this inclination for peace, manifested at the same time by all
the belligerent powers, wa« added the mediation of the two most
powerful princes of Europe ; the empress of Russia and the emperor
of Germany. Their intervention was accepted with unanimous-
consent ; every thing verged towards a general peace. <
Thus, towards the close of the present year, the negotiations at
Paris were pushed with mutual ardor. The English and Americans
were the first to come to an accommodation. They signed^ the
thirtieth of November^ a provisional treaty, which was to be defini-
tive, and made public, as soon as France and Great Britain should
have adjusted their differences. The most important conditions of
this treaty were, that the king of England acknowledged the liberty,
sovereignty, and independence of the thirteen United States of
America, which were all named successively ; that his Britannic
majesty renounced, as well for himself as for his heirs and successors,
all rights whatever over the government, property or territory, of the
said states. In order to prevent any occasion for complaints on either
side upon the subject of limits, imaginary lines of boundary were
agieed upon, which brought within the territory of the United States
immense countries, lakes and rivers, to which, up to that time, they
had never pretended any sort of claim. For, besides the vast and
fertile countries situated upon the banks of the Ohio and Mississippi,
the limits of the United States embraced a part of Canada and Nova
Scotia ; an acquisition which Dermitted the Americans to participate
VOL. n. 29
450 THE AMERICAN WAR. BOOK XV.
in the fur trade. Some Indian nations, which had hitherto existed
under the domination of the English, and especially the Six Tribes,
who had always adhered to their party and alliance, were now in-
cluded in the new territory of the United States. The English were
to evacuate and restore all the parts which they still occupied, such
as New York, Long Island, Staten Island, Charleston, Penobscot,
and all tlieir dependencies. There was no mention made of Sa-
vannah, as the evacuation of that place and of all Georgia, by the
English, had already left it entirely in the power of congress.
The Americans were also secured by the treaty of peace in the
right of fishing on the banks of Newfoundland, in the gulf of St.
Lawrence, and all other places where the two nations had been
accustomed to carry on fishery before the rupture. Tt was expressly
stipulated, that the congress should recommend to the dmtrent states
that they should decree the restitution of all confiscated effects,
estates, and property whatsoever, as well to British subjects as to
those among the Americans who had adhered to the party of Eng-
land. It was agreed, besides, that such individuals could not be
questioned or prosecuted for any thing which they had said or done
in favor of Great Britain. These last articles displeased certain
zealous republicans, and became the objsct of vehement declama-
tions on their part. They little reflected how vengeance, at first so
sweet, may prove bitter in the result. The loyalists were not any more
satisfied ; galled at seeing their fate depend on a mere recommenda-
tion, which might have effect or not, according to the good pleasure of
the several states, they complained of the ingratitude of England, who
unworthily abandoned them to chance. Animated discussions also
arose in parliament relative to this point. The party in opposition
represented in glowing colors the infamy with which the ministers
were about to cover the name of England, in suffering those who had
served her to become the prey of their persecutors. It seemed to
have been forgotten that in these political convulsions it is necessary
to have regard rather to what is possible or advantageous, than to
that which is merely just and honorable. Every man who takes
part in a civil conflict, must expect, sooner or later, to submit to this
common law. Exclusively occupied with its great interests, the state
deigns not even to perceive those of individuals. Its own preserva-
tion is the sole object of its cares ; for it the public good is every
thing, private utility nothing. Upon the adoption of these bases, it
was agreed that hostilities, whether by land or sen, should cease
immediately between Great Britain and America
1783. The preliminaries of peace between France and England
were signed at Versailles on the twentieth of January, 1783, by the
BOOK XV. THE AMERICAN WAR. 451
count de Vergennes, minister of foreign affairs, and M. Fitz Herbert,
minister plenipotentiary of his Britannic majesty. England acquired
thereby an extension of her right of fishery upon the banks of New-
foundland. But she restored to France in full property the islands
of St. Pierre and Miquelon. She likewise restored her the island of
St. Lucia, and ceded her that of Tobago. On the other hand,
France restored to England the island of Grenada, with the Grena-
dines, Dominica, St. Vincent, St. Christopher, Nevis, and Montscrrat.
In the East Indies, France recovered possession of Pondicherry, and
Karical, and all her other establishments in Bengal, and upon the
coast of Orixa. Still other concessions of no little importance were
made her, relating to trade and the right of fortifying different places.
But an article singularly honorable for France, was that by which
England consented to consider as entirely annulled all stipulations
which had been made in regard to the port of Dunkirk, since the
peace of Utrecht, in 1713.
The court of London ceded to that of Madrid the island of Minorca
and the two Floridas. It obtained, at the same time, the restitution
of the Bahama islands ; a restitution which was afterwards found
superfluous, since colonel Deveaux had just reconquered those
islands with a handful of men, equipped at his own expense. These
preliminaries were converted into a definitive treaty of peace the
third of September, 1783. It was signed on the part of France by
the count de Vergennes, and on that of Spain, by the count d'Aranda,
and in behalf of England, by the duke of Manchester. The defini-
tive treaty between Great Britain and the United States was signed
the same day at Paris, by David Hartley, on one part, and by John
Adams, Benjamin Franklin, and John Jay, on the other. On the
preceding day had likewise been concluded, at Paris, the separate
treaty between Great Britain and the States-General of Holland ;
the duke of Manchester stipulating in the name of his Britannic ma-
jesty, and M. Van Berkenroode and M. Bransten, in behalf of their
high mightinesses. The court of London restored to the Dutch
their establishment of Trincomale ; but they ceded to the English
the city of Negapatam with its dependencies.
Notwithstanding all the pomp with which the allied courts had af-
fected to assert the maritime rights of neutrals, no mention whatever
was made in these different treaties of so important a point of
public law.
Such was the issue of the long struggle undertaken for the cause
of America. If it maybe supposed, that the colonists had for a long
time sought an opportunity to throw off the yoke, it must be admitted
also, that the English were themselves the first to excite them to it.
Their rigorous laws irritated, instead of restraining; the insum-
452 THE AMERICAN WAR. BOOK XV.
ciency of their military force and the versality of their measures did but
die more imbolden the resistance of the Americans. The war which
ensued was carried on, as civil wars have usually been, often with
valor, always with desperation, and sometimes with barbarity. Be-
tween the English, on the contrary, and the other European nations
which they had to combat, the reciprocal demonstrations of prowess
received new luster from that humanity and courtesy which emi-
nently characterize the age in which we live. The congress, and the
Americans in general, displayed the most extraordinary constancy ;
the British ministers perhaps merited the reproach of obstinacy, and
the cabinet of France distinguished itself by the singular sagacity of
its policy.
From these different causes resulted the foundation in the New
World of a Republic, happy within by its constitution, pacific by its
character, respected and courted abroad for the abundance of its
resources. So far as it is possible to judge of sublunary things, from
the extent and fertility of its territory, and the rapid increase of its
population, it is destined, at no distant day, to become a vast and
exceedingly powerful state. To consolidate their work, and render
its duration eternal, the Americans have only two things to avoid.
The one is, that moral depravation which too commonly results from
an excessive love of gain ; the other is, the losing sight of the prin-
ciples upon which the edifice is founded. May they at leastreturn to
them promptly, if the ordinary course of human events should intro-
duce disorder and decay into that admirable system of government
which they have established !
With the exception of an affair of little importance, in which colonel
Laurens was slain, and the evacuation of Charleston, nothing had
passed upon the American continent, deserving of particular atten-
tion. As soon as the preliminaries of peace were known there, the
public joy manifested itself, but with much less enthusiasm, however,
than might naturally be supposed. Peace had for a long time been
looked upon as certain ; and man enjoys more calmly the possession
of happiness itself, than the hopes which precede it. New appre-
hensions, besides, soon arose to cloud the horizon ; a secret fire
menaced a conflagration, and at the very moment in which peace
disarmed external enemies, an intestine war appeared ready to rend
the republic. The pay of the army was excessively in arrear ; the
greater part of the officers had spent in the service of the state, not
only all they were possessed of, but also the fortunes of their friends.
They were very apprehensive that the resolutions of October, 1780,
by which congress had granted them half pay for a certain term of
years, would not be carried into effect. They had therefore deputed
BOOK XV. THE AMERICAN WAR. 453
a committee of officers, to solicit the attention of congress to this
subject. Their instructions were, to press the immediate paymeni
of the money actually due, the commutation of the half pay above
mentioned for a sum in gross, and the indemnification of the officer;?,
for the sums which they had been compelled to advance in conse-
quence of the failure of their rations. Some security that the
engagements of the government would be complied with, was also
to he requested. But whether because a part of the members of
congress were little disposed to favor the army, or that others were
desirous that the particular states, and not the federal treasury, should
support the- burthen of these gratifications, nothing was decided-
Discouraged at this slowness, the deputies wrote to the army. The
other public creditors manifested no less disquietude than the officers.
They foresaw plainly that the ordinary revenue would be altogether
inadequate to the payment of the sums that were due to them ; and
they were equally convinced of the repugnance which the states
would have to impose new taxes for the purpose of raising the means
to satisfy their demands. The discontent of the first and of the
second was extreme ; they already anticipated their total ruin.
The American government, at this epoch, was divided in two par-
ties ; one was sincerely disposed to do ample justice to the public
creditors generally, and to this end they desired the establishment
of a general tax ; they labored to fund the public debts on solid con-
tinental securities ; they wished also to create a revenue to answei
the necessities of the republic, and to be subject to the disposal of
congress. The opposite party considered this revenue as dangerous
to liberty. They contended that the particular states alone, not the
congress, should have authority to impose taxes or duties. Already,
at the recommendation of congress, twelve states had subjected to a
duty of five per cent, all foreign produce or manufactures that should
be imported into the United States. One state, however, out of the
thirteen, had refused to comply with the wishes of congress, and
this refusal paralyzed the action of the twelve others.
It was at this epoch that intelligence was received of the signature
of the preliminary and eventual articles of peace ; the disbanding of
the army must be its necessary consequence. The partisans of the
tax then became apprehensive that their adversaries, when relieved
from the maintenance of the troops, and from the fear which they
inspired, would show themselves still more adverse to the creation of
a national revenue They saw not only that the creditors of the state
would thus be cut off from all hope, but that the republic itself would
be exposed for the future to incessant and inextricab e embarrass-
ments, for w ant of a general authority invested will the power of
454 THE AMERICAN WAR. BOOK XV.
imposing taxes. They resolved, therefore, to profit of an occasion
which would never again present itself, to procure the adoption of a
plan whose utility appeared to them incontestable. They were un-
decided, however, as to the means to be employed in this conjunc-
ture ; several contradictory opinions were advanced. The more
resolute, not reflecting upon the danger of an irregular appeal to the
multitude, in affairs of state, were inclined to resort to force, and to
make of the army itself the instrument of their designs. At the head
of these were Alexander Hamilton, then member of congress, the
treasurer, Robert Morris, with another Morris, his assistant in office.
But the more circumspect thought it advisable to pursue a middle
course, and to permit the army to threaten, but not to act ; as if the
hand which has excited a popular movement could also appease it at
pleasure ! In the secvct councils that were held upon this affair, the
latter opinion, prevailed. Colonel Stewart, of the regular troops of
Pennsylvania, was sent to camp under pretext of entering upon the
exercise of his office of inspector-general. He had instructions to
sound the dispositions of Washington, and to endeavor to ascertain
how far he would consent to give into the plan agreed upon. It was
especially recommended to him to foment the agitation which pre-
vailed in the army, and to persuade it not to disband until it had
obtained full assurance that the arrears of pay should be liquidated,
together with an indemnification for the supplies which it ought to
have had, but which had been withheld up to that time. Whether
the commander-in-chief was not disinclined towards this scheme, or .
that he thought it prudent not to declare himself too ostensibly, colo-
nel Stewart believed, or at least made others believe, that Washington
approved it entirely. Meanwhile, the members of the opposite party
were soon apprised of what was passing, and set themselves to coun-
teract it. Convinced of the importance of obtaining the countenance
of Washington, they put forward a certain Harvey, who had mani-
fested an extreme ardor in these discussions. This man wrote to
the commander-in-chief, that, under the pretense of wishing to satisfy
the public creditors, the most pernicious designs were meditated
against the republic ; that nothing less was in agitation than a plot to
demolish the fabric of freedom, and introduce tyranny. To these
insinuations he joined others relating to Washington personally ; he
intimated to him that it was wished to deprive him of his rank, to put
down his friends, and, in a word, to destroy the work which they had
accomplished with so much glory, and at the expense of so much toil
and blood. Washington could not but entertain certain apprehen-
sions. He doubted there were machinations in agitation which por-
tended no good to the state. He circulated the letter of Harvey . tliat
BOOK XV. THE AMERICAN WAR. 455
its contents might be known even to the soldiers. He exerted all his
authority to prevent an insurrection. The commander-Li-chief thus
declared himself publicly against a design, which perhaps within
his own breast he did not altogether disapprove, though he blamed,
and not without reason, the means by which it was to have been
carried into execution. The most alarming rumors weic propagated
on all parts. It was loudly exclaimed that the troops, before they
disbanded, ought to obtain justice ; that they had a right to claim the
fruit of victories which their valor had won ; that the other creditors
of the state, and many members of the congress itself, invoked the
interference of the army, prepared to follow the example which they
expected from it. Minds became highly inflamed ; assemblages were
formed in thecarnp, and it was openly proposed in them to make law
for the congress. In the midst of this effervescence, circulated anony-
mous invitations to the officers to convene in general assembly. On
the eleventh of March, was passed from hand to hand an address, the
author of which did not name himself, but who was known afterwards
to be major John Armstrong. This writing, composed with great inge-
nuity, and with greater passion, was singularly calculated to aggravate
the exasperation of the soldiers, and to conduct them to the most
desperate resolutions. Blamable in a time of calm, it became /eally
criminal at a moment when all heads were in a state of the most
vehement irritation. Among other incendiary passages, it contained
the following : ' After a pursuit of seven years, the object for which
we set out is at length brought within our reach ; yes, my friends,
that suffering courage of yours was active once ; it has conducted the
United States of America through a doubtful and a bloody war. It
has placed her in the chair of independency, and peace returns £ »ain
to bless — Whom ? A country willing to redress your wrongs, cherish
your worth, and reward your services? A country courting }our
return to private life, with tears of gratitude and smiles of admira-
tion, longing to divide with you "that independence which your gal-
lantry has given, and those riches which your wounds have preserved ?
Is this the case ? or is it rather a country that tramples upon your
rights, disdains your cries, and insults your distresses ? Have you
not more than once suggested your wishes, and made known your
wants to congress ? wants and wishes which gratitude and policy
should have anticipated rather than evaded. And have you not lately,
in the meek language of entreating memorials, begged from their
justice what you could no longer expect from their favor ? How havo
you been answered ; Let the letter of your delegates to Philadel-
phia reply.
456 THE AMERICAN WAR. BOOK XV.
' If this, then, be your treatment while the swords you wear are
necessary for the defense of America, what have you to expect
when your voice shall sink, and your strength dissipate by division ?
when those very swords, the instruments and companions of your
glory, shall be taken from your sides, and no remaining mark of
military distinction left but your wants, infirmities and scars ? Can
you then consent to be the only sufferers by this revolution, and re-
tiring from the field, grow old in poverty, wretchedness and contempt?
Can you consent to wade through the vile mire of dependency, and
owe the miserable remnant of that life to charity, which has hitherto
been spent in honor ? If you can, go — and carry with you the jest
of tories and the scorn of whigs — the ridicule, and what is worse, the
pity of the world. Go, starve, and be forgotten ! But if your spirit
should revolt at this ; if you have sense enough to discover, and
spirit enough to oppose tyranny, under whatever garb it may assume;
whether it be the plain coat of republicanism, or the splendid robe
of royalty ; if you have yet learned to discriminate between a people
and a cause, between men and principles, awake ; attend to your
situation and redress yourselves. If the present moment be lost,
every future effort is in vain ; and your threats then will be as empty
as your entreaties now.'
These words, more worthy of a raving tribune of the people, than
of a discreet American, chafed minds already exasperated into a
delirium of fury. The general fermentation announced the most
sinister events ; and war between the civil and military powers ap-
peared inevitable. But Washington, whose constancy no crisis could
shake, strong in the love and veneration of the people, contemplated
the danger of his country, and instantly formed the generous design
of extinguishing the kindling conflagration. He was not ignorant
how much better it is, in such circumstances, to lead misguided
minds than to resist them ; how much easier it is to obviate intem-
perate measures than to correct them. He resolved, therefore, to
prevent the meeting of the officers. With this view, in his orders
addressed to the officers, he expressed the conviction he felt that
their own good sense would secure them from paying any attention
to an anonymous invitation ; but his own duty, he added, as well as
the reputation and true interest of the army, required his disapproba-
tion of such disorderly proceedings. At the same time he requested
the general .and field officers, with one officer from each company,
and a proper representation from the staff of the army, to assemble
in order to deliberate upon the measures to be adopted for obtaining
the redress of their grievances.
BOOK XV. THE AMERICAN WAR. 457
By this conduct, the prudence of which is undeniable, Washington
succeeded in impressing the army with a belief that he did not dis-
approve their remonstrances, and the leaders of the insurrection, in
particular, that he secretly favored their designs. By this means he
gained time for disposing minds and things in such a manner, that
the military committee should take only those resolutions which
entered into his plan. The following day, Armstrong circulated a
second anonymous paper, in which he congratulated the officers
upon the prospect that their measures were about to receive the
sanction of public authority ; he exhorted them to act with energy in
the assembly convoked for the fi'fteenth of March.
In the meantime, Washington exerted the whole weight of his
influence to bring the agitations of the moment to a happy termina-
tion ; he endeavored to impress on those officers individually, who
possessed the greatest share of the general confidence, a just sense
of what the exigency required ; to some, he represented the dangers
of the country ; to others, the constancy they had hitherto manifest-
ed ; to all, the glory they had acquired, and the interest they had in
transmitting it entire and unsullied to their posterity. He reminded
them also of the exhausture of the public treasury, and of the infamy
wiiii which they would brand themselves in giving birth to civil war,
at the very moment in which the public happiness was about to
revive in the midst of peace. On the day appointed by Washington,
the convention of officers assembled. The commander-in-chief
addressed them a speech, as judicious as it was eloquent, in which
he endeavored to destroy the effect of the anonymous papers. He
demonstrated all the horror of the alternative proposed by the author,
that in case of peace the army should turn their arms against the
state, unless it instantly complied with their demands, and if war
continued, that they should abandon its defense by removing into
some wild and unsettled country.
'My God ! ' he exclaimed, ' what can this writer have in view, by
recommending such measures ? Can he be a friend to the army ?
Can he be a friend to this country ? Rather is lie not an insidious
foe; some emissary, perhaps from New York, plotting the ruin of
both, by sowing the seeds of discord and separation between the
r,ivil and military authorities of the continent ? ' « Let me entreat
you, gentlemen,' he added, ' not to take any measures, which, viewed
in the calm light of reason, will lessen the dignity, and sully the glory
you have hitherto maintained ; let me request you to rely on the
plighted faith of your country, and place a full confidence in the
purity of the intentions of congress, that, previous to your dissolu-
tion as an army, they will cause all your accounts to be fairly liqui-
453 THK AMERICAN WAR. BOOK XV.
dated ; and that they will adopt the most effectual measures in their
power to render ample justice to you for your faithful and meritorious
services. And let me conjure you in the name of our common
country, as you value your own sacred honor, as you respect the
rights of humanity, and as you regard the military and national honor
of America, to express your utmost horror and detestation of the
man who wishes, under any specious pretenses, to overturn the
liberties of our country ; and who wickedly attempts to open the
flood-gates of civil discord, and deluge our rising empire in blood.
( By thus determining, and thus acting, you will pursue the plain
and direct road to the attainment of your wishes ; you will defeat
the insidious designs of our enemies, who are compelled to resort
from open force to secret artifice. You will give one more distin-
guished proof of unexampled patriotism and patient virtue, rising
superior to the pressure of the most complicated sufferings ; and you
will, by the dignity of your conduct, afford occasion for posterity to
say, when speaking of the glorious example you have exhibited to
mankind ; " Had this day been wanting, the world had never seen the
last stage of perfection to which human nature is capable of attaining.'"
When Washington had concluded his discourse, a profound silence
ensued in the assembly : soon those who composed it communicated
to each other, in a low voice, the sentiments with which they were
impressed. The authority of such a personage, the weight of his
words, the sincere affection which he bore to the army, operated
irresistibly upon all minds. The effervescence gave place to a calm.
No voice was heard in opposition to that of the chief. The deputies
of the army declared unanimously that no circumstances of distress
or danger should induce them to sully the glory which they had
acquired ; that the army continued to have an unshaken confidence
in the justice of congress and their country ; that they entreated the
commander-in-chief to recommend to the government the subject of
their memorials ; and, finally, that they abhorred the infamous prop-
ositions contained in the anonymous writing addressed to the officers
of the army. Thus Washington, by his prudence and firmness, was
instrumental in preserving his country from the new danger that
menaced it, at the very moment when its safety seemed to have been
established forever. Who knows what might have happened, if
civil war had ensanguined the very cradle of this republic ! The
captain-general kept his word, and was himself the advocate of his
officers with the congress. He obtained of them a decree, commut-
ing the half pay into a sum in gross equal to five years' full pay, and
that either in money, or securities bearing an interest of six percent.
According to the orders of congress, three months' pay was ad-
BOOK. XV. THE AMERICAN WAR. 459
vanced to the officers and soldiers in the notes of the treasurer. But
this measure was not taken till late, and not until the Pennsylva-
nia militia had broken out into so violent an insurrection, at Phila-
delphia, that they blockaded, with arms in hands, the very hall of
congress for some hours. The reduction of the continental army
became then the principal object of attention, and discharges were
granted successively to those soldiers, who, during seven campaigns
of a most obstinate war, had struggled with an heroic constancy, not
only against sword and fire, but also against hunger, nakedness, and
even the flnry of the elements. Their work completed, their country
acknowledged independent, they peaceably returned to their fami-
lies. The congress voted them public thanks, in the name of a
grateful country. The English were not slow to evacuate New
York and its dependencies, in which they had made so long a
stay. A little after, the French departed from Rhode Island for
their possessions, carrying with them the benedictions of all the
Americans.
The congress, in order to celebrate worthily the establishment of
peace and independence, appointed the eleventh of December, to be
observed as a day of solemn thanksgiving to the Dispenser of all
good. By another decree they ordained, that an equestrian statue
of bronze should be erected to general Washington, in the city
where the congress should hold its sessions. The general was to
be represented by it in the Roman costume, with the staff of com-
mand in the right hand, and the head encircled with a crown of
laurel. The pedestal of marble was to be invested with bassi relievi
commemorative of the principal events of the war, which had taken
place under the immediate command of Washington ; such as the
deliverance of Boston, the taking of the Hessians at Trenton, the
affair of Princeton, the battle of Monmouth, and the surrender of
Yorktown. The anterior face of the pedestal was to bear the fol-
owing inscription : The United States, assembled in Congress, voted
this statue, in the year of our Lord 1783, in honor of George Wash-
ington, captain-general of the armies of the United States of Amer-
ica, during the war which vindicated and secured their liberty,
sovereignty, and independence.
Such was the issue of a contest, which, during the course of eighi
consecutive years, chained the attention of the universe, and drew
Vhe most powerful nations of Europe to take a share in it. It is
worthy of the observer to investigate the causes which have concur-
red to the triumph of the Americans, and baffled the efforts of their
enemies. In the first place, they had the good fortune not to en-
counter opposition from foreign nations, and even to find among
460 THE AMERICAN WAR. BOOK XV.
them benevolence, countenance, and succors. These favorable
dispositions, while they inspired them with more confidence in the
justice of their cause, redoubled also their spirit and energy. The
coalition of several powerful nations, leagued against a single one, on
account of some reform it wishes to establish in the frame of its
government, and which threatens not only to defeat its object, but to
deprive it of liberty and independence, usually causes its rulers to
divest themselves of all moderation and prudence, and to have re-
course to the most violent and extraordinary measures, which soon
exhaust the resources of the country, and excite discontent among
its inhabitants ; till, oppressed and harassed in every form by the
officers of government, they are driven at last into civil convul-
sions, in which the strength of the community is consumed. And
besides, these violent measures so disgust the people with the whole
enterprise, that, confounding the abuse of a thing with the use of it,
they choose rather to retreat to the point from which they set out,
or even further back, than to continue their progress towards the
object originally proposed. Hence it is, that, if that object were
liberty, they afterwards rush into despotism, preferring the tyranny
of one to that of many. But to these fatal extremities the Ameri-
cans were not reduced, as well for the reason at first stated, the
general favor of foreign states, as on account of the geographical
position of their country, separated by vast seas from nations which
keep on foot great standing armies, and defended on all other points
by impenetrable forests, immense deserts and inaccessible mountains,
and having in all this part no other enemy to fear except the Indian
tribes, more capable of investing and ravaging the frontiers, than oi
making any permanent encroachments. One of the most powerful
causes of the success of the American revolution, should, doubtless,
be sought in the little difference which existed between the form oi
government which they abandoned, and that which they wished to
establish. It was not from absolute, but from limited monarchy,
that they passed to the freedom of an elective government. Moral
things, with men, are subject to the same laws as physical ; the laivs
of all nature. Total and sudden changes cannot take place without
causing disasters or death.
The royal authority, tempered by the very nature ot the govern-
ment, and still enfeebled by distance, scarcely made itself perceptible
in the British colonies. When the Americans had shaken it off" en-
tirely, they experienced no considerable change. Royalty alone was
effaced ; the administration remained the same, and the republic
found itself established without shock. Such was the advantage
enjoyed by the American insurgents, whereas the people of other
BOOK XV. THE AMERICAN WAR. 461
countries, who should undertake to pass all at once from absolute mon-
archy to the republican scheme, would find themselves constrained
to overturn, not only monarchical institutions, but all others, in order
to substitute new ones in their stead. But such a subversion cannot
take place without doing violence to the opinions, usages, manners,
and customs of the greater number, nor even without grievously
wounding their interests. Discontent propagates itself ; democratic
forms serve as the mere mask of royalty ; the people discover that
they have complained of imaginary evils ; they eagerly embrace the
first opportunity to measure back their steps, even to the very point
which they started from.
Another material cause of the happy issue of this grand enterprise,
will be seen in the circumspect and moderate conduct invariably
pursued by that considerate and persevering people by whom it was
achieved. Satisfied with having abolished royalty, they paused
there, and discreetly continued to respect the ancient laws, which
had survived the change. Thus they escaped the chagrin of having
made their condition worse in attempting to improve it. They had
the good sense to reflect, that versatility in counsels degrades the
noblest cause, chills its partisans, ana multiplies its opponents. There
will always be more alacrity in a career whose goal is fixed and ap-
parent, than in that where it is concealed in obscurity. The Amer-
icans reared the tree, because they suffered it to grow ; they gather-
ed its fruit, because they allowed it to ripen. They were not seen
to plume themselves on giving every day a new face to the state.
Supporting evil with constancy, they never thought of imputing it to
the defects of their institutions, nor to the incapacity or treason of
those who governed them, but to the empire of circumstances.
They were especially indebted for this moderation of character to
the simplicity of their hereditary manners ; few among them aspired
to dignity and power.
They presented not the afflicting spectacle of friends dissolving
their ancient intimacies, and even declaring a sudden war upon each
other, because one was arrived at the helm of state without calling
the other to it. With them patriotism triumphed over ambition.
There existed royalists and republicans; but not republicans of
different sects, rending with their dissensions the bosom of their coun-
try. There might be among them a diversity of opinions, but never
did they abandon themselves to sanguinary feuds, proscriptions, and
confiscations. From their union resulted their victory ; they immo-
lated their enmities to the public weal, their ambition to the safety
of the state, and they reaped the fruit of it ; an ever memorable
proof that if precipitate resolutions cause the failure of political
462 THE AMERICAN WAR. BOOK XT.
enterprises, temper and perseverance conduct them to a glorious
issue.
The army was disbanded : but the supreme command still remain-
ed in the nands of Washington : the public mind was intent upon
what he was about to do. His prudence reminded him that it was
time to put a term to the desire of military glory ; his thoughts were
now turned exclusively upon leaving to h'rs country a great example
of moderation. The congress was then in session at the city of
Annaoolis in Maryland. Washington communicated to that body his
resolution to resign the command, and requested to know whether it
would be their pleasure that he should offer his resignation in writing,
or at an audience. The congress answered, that they appointed the
twenty-third of December for that ceremony. When this day ar-
rived, the hall of congress was crowded with spectators ; the legisla-
tive and executive characters of the state, several general officers,
and the consul-general of France, were present. The members of
congress remained seated and covered. The spectators were stand-
ing and uncovered. The general was introduced by the secretary,
and conducted to a seat near the president. Aftera decent interval,
silence was commanded, and a short pause ensued. The president,
general Mifflin,then informed him, that the United States in congress
assembled were prepared to receive his communications. Washing-
ton rose, and with an air of inexpressible dignity, delivered the fol-
lowing address : —
' Mr. President ; The great events on which my resignation de-
pended having at length taken place, I have now the honor of offer-
ing my sincere congratulations to congress, and of presenting myself
before them to surrender into their hands the trust committed to me,
and to claim the indulgence of retiring from the service of my coun-
try. Happy in theconfirmationof our independence and sovereignty,
and pleased with the opportunity afforded the United States of be-
coming a respectable nation, I resign with satisfaction the appoint-
ment I accepted with diffidence, a diffidence in my abilities to
accomplish so arduous a task, which, however, was superseded by a
confidence in the rectitude of our cause, the support of the supreme
power of the Union, and the patronage of Heaven. The successful
termination of the war has verified the most sanguine expectations ;
and my gratitude for the interposition of Providence, and the assist-
ance I have received from my countrymen, increases with every
review of the momentous contest. While I repeat my obligations to
the army in general, I should do injustice to my own feelings not to
acknowledge, in this place, the peculiar services and distinguished
merits of the gentlemen who have been attached to my person during
BOOK XV. THE AMERICAN WAR. 463
the war. It was impossible the choice of confidential officers to
compose my family should have been more fortunate. Permit me.
sir, to recommend, in particular, those who have continued in the
service to the present moment, as worthy of the favorable notice and
patronage of congress.
' I consider it as an indispensable duty to close this last act of my
official life by commending the interests of our dearest country to
the protection of Almighty God, and those who have the superinten-
dence of them to his holy keeping. Having now finished the work
assigned me, I retire from the great theater of action, and bidding
an affectionate farewell to this 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.'
Having spoken thus, he advanced to the chair of the president,
and deposited the commission in his hands. The president made
him, in the name of congress, the following answer:—
' Sir ; The United States, in congress assembled, receive with
emotions too affecting for utterance, the solemn resignation of the
authorities under which you have led their troops with success through
a perilous and a doubtful war. Called upon by your country to
defend its invaded rights, you accepted the sacred charge, before
it had formed alliances, and while it was without funds or a govern-
ment to support you. You have conducted the great military contest
with wisdom and fortitude, invariably regarding the rights of the civil
power, through all disasters and changes. You have, by the love
and confidence of your fellow-citizens, enabled them to display their
martial genius, and transmit their fame to posterity. You have per-
severed, until the United States, aided by a magnanimous king and
nation, have been enabled, under a just Providence, to close the war
in freedom, safety, and independence ; on which happy event, we
sincerely join you in congratulations. Having defended the standard
of liberty in this new world, having taught a lesson useful to those who
inflict, and to those who feel oppression, you retire from the groat
theater of action, with the blessing of your fellow-citizens ; but the
glory of your virtues will not terminate with your military command ;
it will continue to animate the remotest ages. We feel, with you,
our obligations to the army in general, and will particularly charge
ourselves with the interests of those confidential officers who havo
attended your person to this affecting moment. We join you in com-
mending the interests of our dearest country to the protection of
Almighty God, beseeching him to dispose the hearts and minds of its
citizens to improve the opportunity afforded them of becoming a
happy and respectable nation. And for you, we address to Him our
464 THE AMERICAN WAR. BOOK. XV.
earnest prayers that a life so beloved may be fostered with all his
care ; that your days may be happy as they have been illustrious ;
and that he will finally give you that reward which this world can-
not give.'
When the president had terminated his discourse, a long and pro-
found silence pervaded the whole assembly. All minds appeared
impressed with the grandeur of the scene, the recollections of the
past, the felicity of the present, and the hopes of the future. The
captain-general and congress were the objects of universal eulogium.
A short time after this ceremony, Washington retired to enjoy the
long desired repose of his seat of Mount Vernon, in Virginia.
BIOGRAPHY OF THE AUTHOR.
CHARLES JOSEPH WILLIAM BOTTA was born at St. George, prov-
ince of Vercelli, in Piedmont, in 1766. He studied medicine at the
university of Turin, and was employed as physician to the army of
the Alps ; afterwards to that of Italy. About this time he composed
an extensive work, containing a plan of government for Lombardy.
Towards the close of 1798, he was sent to the islands of the Levant
with the division detached thither by general Buonaparte.
On his return to Italy, he published a description of the island of
Corfu, and of the maladies prevalent there during his stay ; 2 vols.
8vo.
In the year seven of the French Republic, (1799,) general Joubert
appointed him member of the provisional government of Piedmont.
This provisional government having been dissolved at the arrival of
the commissioner Musset, Botta was appointed member of the ad-
ministration of the department of the Po. At the epoch of the Aus-
tro-Russian invasion, he again took refuge in France. The minister
of war, Bernadotte, re-appointed him physician of the Alps ; and af-
ter the battle of Marengo, the commander-in-chief of the army of
reserve appointed him member of the Consulta of Piedmont.
At the commencement of 1801, he was member of the executive
commission, and afterwards of the council of general administration
of the twenty-seventh military division. Botta likewise made part of
the deputation which came to Paris in 1803 to present thanks to the
government upon the definitive adjunction of Piedmont, and there
published an historical sketch of the history of Savoy and Piedmont.
Immediately after the'uniorL he was elected member of the legisla-
tive body by the department of the DottfSCliie tenth of August, 1804.
The twenty-eighth of October, 1808, he was created vice-president,
and on the expiration of his term, was re-elected in 1809, and pro-
posed the ninth of December, as candidate for the questorship.
VOL. ii. 30
4Go BIOGRAPHY OF THE AUTHOR.
The emperor granted him soon after the decoration of the order of
the Union.
The third of January, 1810, he presented to Buonaparte, in the
name of the academy of sciences of Turin, the last two volumes of
its memoirs. He adhered, the third of April, 1814, to the deposition
of Napoleon and his family. The eighth he accepted the constitu-
tional act which recalled the Bourbons to the throne of France, but
ne ceased to make part of the legislative body on the separation of
Piedmont. At the return of Buonaparte in 1815, he was appointed
rector of the academy of Nanci, but lost this place after the second
restoration of the king.
Besides the works already named, he has published,
1. At Turin, 1801, an Italian translation of the work of Born, ot
which Broussonet had given to the public a French version, in 1784.
2. A memoir upon the doctrine of Brown, 1800, in 8vo.
3. Memoir upon the nature of tones and sounds, read before the
academy of Turin, and inserted (hy extract) in the Bibliotheque
Italienne, tome I., Turin, 1803, 8vo.
4. The history of the war of the independence of America, 1809,
4 vols. 8vo.
5. II Camillo, O Vejo conquistato, (Camillus, or Veii conquered,)
an epic poem in twelve cantos. Paris, 1816. This work has re-
ceived high encomiums in the European journals. Botta has con-
tributed some articles to the Biographic Universelle, among others,
that of John Adams.
6. The history of Italy.
The Translator is indebted for the preceding notice of Botta, to
the complaisance of an estimable countryman and acquaintance ol
the Historian.
m
LIST OF WORKS
CONSULTED BT THK AUTHOR FOR WRITING THE HISTORY OF THE AMERICAN WAR.
ENGLISH.
Joumals of the House of Lords ; Journals of the House of Commons, in
folio; printed by order of the two houses, from 1764 to 1783.
Authentic Account of the Proceedings of Congress, held at New York
in 1765. Almon, 1767.
Journals of the Proceedings of the Congress, in 8vo. Dilly, 1775.
Journals of Congress held at Philadelphia, for Almon, 1786.
The Parliamentary Register, &c. ; all the volumes from 1766 to 1783
The Annual Register ; all the volumes from 1764 to 1783.
Historical Anecdotes relative to the American Rebellion, 1 vol. 8vo. 1779.
The Remembrancer, or impartial repository of public events ; the sec-
ond edition, London, for I. Almon, with the prior documents.
Letters on the American Troubles, translated from the French of M.
Pinto, 1776.
An hnpartial History of the War in America between Great Britain
and her colonies, from its commencement to the end of the year 1779, in
Svo. for Faulders, 1780.
The History of the Civil War in America, comprehending the campaigns
of 1775, 1776, 1777 ; by an officer of the army, in Svo. for Sewall, 1781.
A genuine detail-of the several engagements, positions and movements
of the royal and American armies, during the years 1775 and 1776,
with an accurate account of the blockade of Boston, &/c. ; by William
Carter, in 4to. for Kearsley, 1785.
An impartial and authentic narrative of the battle fought on the 17th
June, on Bunker's Hill ; by John Clarke, 1775.
A History of the Campaigns of 1780 and 1781, in the southern prov-
inces of North America ; by lieutenant-colonel Tarletori, Dublin, Lpol.
Svo. 1787.
Strictures on lieutenant-colonel Tarleton's History of the Campaigns
of 1780 and 1781, by Roderick Mackenzie, in Svo. 1787.
The History of the American Revolution, by David Ramsay, 2 vols.
Svo. Philadelphia, 1789.
History of the War with America, France, Spain and Holland, com-
mencing in 1775, and ending in 1783, by John Andrews, 4 vols. in 8vo.
London, for J. Fielding, 1785.
The History of the Rise, Progress, and Establishment of the Indepen-
dence of the United States of America, by William Gordon, Ix>ndon,
printed for«the author, and sold by Charles Dilly, 1788, 4 vols. Svo
An Historical, Geographical, Commercial, and Philosophical View of
the American United States, and of the European settlements in America,
and the West Indies ; by W. Winterbotham, 4 vols. in Svo. London, 1795.
The Life of George Washington, by John Marshall, chief justice of the
United States, 5 vols. in Svo. London, for Richard Philips, 1804, 1 805, 1807.
468 LIST OF WORKS.
The Life of Washington, by David Ramsay, 1 vol. 8vo. New York
1807,'printed by Hopkins and Seymour.
Letters addressed to the army of the United States, in the year 1783
with a brief exposition ; by Buel, Kingston, state of New York, 1803.
FRENCH.
Revolution d'Amerique, par 1'abbe Raynal, Londres, 1781.
Lett re adresee a. 1'abbe Raynal, sur les affaires de 1'Amerique Septen-
trionale, traduite de 1'Anglais de Thomas Payne, 1783.
£ssais historiques et politiqltes sur les Anglo-Americains, par M. Hil-
Jiard d'Auberteuil, 4 vols. in 8vo. Bruxelles, 1781.
Histoire de 1' administration de Lord North, et de la guerre de PAme-
rique Septentrionale, jusqu' a la paix de 1783, 2 vols. in 8vo. Londres et
Paris, 1784.
Histoire impartiale des evenemens militaire et politiques de la derniere
guerre dans les quatre parties du monde, 3 vols. Amsterdam et Paris,
chez la veuve Duchesne, 1785.
Constitution des treize Etats Unis d'Amerique, Philadelphie et Paris,
1783.
Affairs de PAngletere et de 1'Amerique, 17 vols. in 8vo. Anvers.
Voyages de M. le Marquis de Chastelax dans 1'Amerique Septentrionale,
pendant les annees 1780, 1781, et 1782, 2 vols. in 8vo. Paris, chez
Prault, 1786.
Histoire des troubles de 1'Amerique Anglaise, &,c. par Francois Soules,
4 vols. in 8vo. Paris, chez Buisson, 1787.
Histoire de laderniere guerre entre la Grande Britagne et les Etats Uhis
d'Amerique, la France, 1'Espagne et la Hollande, depuis son commence-
ment en 1775, jusqu'a safin en 1783, 1 vol. 4to. Paris, chez Brocas, 1787.
Histoire de la Revolution de 1'Amerique, par rapport a la Caroline
Meridiouale, par David Ramsay, membre du Congres Americain ; traduit
de 1'Anglais, 2 vols. Svo. Londres et Paris, chez Frouille, 1787.
Recherches historiques et politiques sur les Etats Unis de 1'Amerique
Septentrionale, par un citoyn de Virginie, 4 vols. in Svo. Paris, chez
Frouille, 1788.
Discussiones importantes, debattues au parlement Britannique, 4 vols.
in Svo. Paris, chez Maradan et Perlet, 1790.
Memoires historiques et pieces authentiques sur M. de la Fayette, 1
vol. in Svo. Paris, 1'an 2, (1793.)
To the foregoing works should be added, a great number of pamphlets,
which, during the American revolution, were published daily, as well in
England as in America and France. Lastly, even among the actors of
the great events which he has related, the author has had the good for-
tune to find individuals as polite as well informed, who have deigned to
furnish him with important manuscripts. He prays them to accept here
the public expression of his acknowledgment.
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