The Great Events by Famous Historians, Volume 14
by unknown · English · Gutenberg #32690 · 914,869 chars · public domain (US)
The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Great Events by Famous Historians, Volume 14
This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and
most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions
whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms
of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online
at www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States,
you will have to check the laws of the country where you are located
before using this eBook.
Title: The Great Events by Famous Historians, Volume 14
Editor: Rossiter Johnson
Charles F. Horne
LL. D. John Rudd
Release date: June 4, 2010 [eBook #32690]
Most recently updated: January 6, 2021
Language: English
Other information and formats: www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/32690
Credits: Produced by the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at
https://www.pgdp.net.
*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE GREAT EVENTS BY FAMOUS HISTORIANS, VOLUME 14 ***
Produced by the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at
https://www.pgdp.net.
[Illustration: Charlotte Corday, after the assassination of Marat,
apprehended by the Jacobin mob
Painting by J. Weerts.]
THE GREAT EVENTS
BY
FAMOUS HISTORIANS
A COMPREHENSIVE AND READABLE ACCOUNT OF THE WORLD'S HISTORY, EMPHASIZING
THE MORE IMPORTANT EVENTS, AND PRESENTING THESE AS COMPLETE NARRATIVES
IN THE MASTER-WORDS OF THE MOST EMINENT HISTORIANS
NON-SECTARIAN NON-PARTISAN NON-SECTIONAL
ON THE PLAN EVOLVED FROM A CONSENSUS OF OPINIONS GATHERED FROM THE MOST
DISTINGUISHED SCHOLARS OF AMERICA AND EUROPE, INCLUDING BRIEF
INTRODUCTIONS BY SPECIALISTS TO CONNECT AND EXPLAIN THE CELEBRATED
NARRATIVES, ARRANGED CHRONOLOGICALLY, WITH THOROUGH INDICES,
BIBLIOGRAPHIES, CHRONOLOGIES, AND COURSES OF READING
EDITOR-IN-CHIEF
ROSSITER JOHNSON, LL.D.
ASSOCIATE EDITORS
CHARLES F. HORNE, Ph.D.
JOHN RUDD, LL.D.
_With a staff of specialists_
_VOLUME XIV_
[Illustration]
The National Alumni
COPYRIGHT, 1905,
BY THE NATIONAL ALUMNI
CONTENTS
VOLUME XIV
PAGE
_An Outline Narrative of the Great Events_, xiii
CHARLES F. HORNE
_The Battle of Lexington (A.D. 1775)_, 1
RICHARD FROTHINGHAM
_The Battle of Bunker Hill (A.D. 1775)_, 19
JOHN BURGOYNE
JOHN HENEAGE JESSE
JAMES GRAHAME
_Canada Remains Loyal to England_
_Montgomery's Invasion (A.D. 1775)_, 30
JOHN M'MULLEN
_Signing of the American Declaration of Independence (A.D. 1776)_, 39
THOMAS JEFFERSON
JOHN A. DOYLE
_The Defeat of Burgoyne at Saratoga (A.D. 1777)_, 51
SIR EDWARD SHEPHERD CREASY
_The First Victory of the American Navy (A.D. 1779)_, 68
ALEXANDER SLIDELL MACKENZIE
_Joseph II Attempts Reform in Hungary (A.D. 1780)_, 85
ARMINIUS VAMBERY
_Siege and Surrender of Yorktown (A.D. 1781)_, 97
HENRY B. DAWSON
LORD CORNWALLIS
_British Defence of Gibraltar (A.D. 1782)_, 116
FREDERICK SAYER
_Close of the American Revolution (A.D. 1782)_, 137
JOHN ADAMS
JOHN JAY
BENJAMIN FRANKLIN
HENRY LAURENS
JOHN M. LUDLOW
_Settlement of American Loyalists in Canada (A.D. 1783)_, 156
SIR JOHN G. BOURINOT
_The First Balloon Ascension (A.D. 1783)_, 163
HATTON TURNOR
_Framing of the Constitution of the United States (A.D. 1787)_, 173
ANDREW W. YOUNG
JOSEPH STORY
_Inauguration of Washington_
_His Farewell Address (A.D. 1789-1797)_, 197
JAMES K. PAULDING AND GEORGE WASHINGTON
_French Revolution: Storming of the Bastille (A.D. 1789)_, 212
WILLIAM HAZLITT
Hamilton Establishes the United States Bank (A.D. 1791), 230
ALEXANDER HAMILTON AND LAWRENCE LEWIS, JR.
_The Negro Revolution in Haiti (A.D. 1791)_
_Toussaint Louverture Establishes the Dominion of his Race_, 236
CHARLES WYLLYS ELLIOTT
_Republican France Defies Europe_
_The Battle of Valmy (A.D. 1792)_, 252
ALPHONSE M. L. LAMARTINE
_The Invention of the Cotton-gin (A.D. 1793)_
_Enormous Growth of the Cotton Industry in America_, 271
CHARLES W. DABNEY
R. B. HANDY
DENISON OLMSTED
_The Execution of Louis XVI (A.D. 1793)_
_Murder of Marat: Civil War in France_, 295
THOMAS CARLYLE
_The Reign of Terror (A.D. 1794)_, 311
FRANÇOIS P. G. GUIZOT
_The Downfall of Poland (A.D. 1794)_, 330
SIR ARCHIBALD ALISON
_The Rise of Napoleon_
_The French Conquest of Italy (A.D. 1796)_, 339
SIR WALTER SCOTT
_Overthrow of the Mamelukes (A.D. 1798)_
_The Battle of the Nile_, 353
CHARLES KNIGHT
_Jenner Introduces Vaccination (A.D. 1798)_, 363
SIR THOMAS J. PETTIGREW
_Universal Chronology (A.D. 1775-1799)_, 377
JOHN RUDD
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
VOLUME XIV
PAGE
_Charlotte Corday, after the assassination of Marat,
apprehended by the Jacobin mob (page 305)_,
Painting by J. Weerts. Frontispiece
_The Siege of Yorktown_, 108
Painting by L. C. A. Couder.
AN OUTLINE NARRATIVE
TRACING BRIEFLY THE CAUSES, CONNECTIONS, AND CONSEQUENCES OF
THE GREAT EVENTS
(THE EPOCH OF REVOLUTION)
CHARLES F. HORNE
"After us, the deluge!" said Louis XV of France. He died in 1774, and
the remaining quarter of the eighteenth century witnessed social changes
the most radical, the most widespread which had convulsed civilization
since the fall of Rome. "As soon as our peasants seek education," said
Catharine II of Russia to one of her ministers, "neither you nor I will
retain our places." Catharine, one of the shrewdest women of her day,
judged her own people by the more advanced civilization of Western
Europe. She saw that it was the growth of ideas, the intellectual
advance, which had made Revolution, world-wide Revolution, inevitable.
If we look back to the beginnings of Teutonic Europe, we see that the
social system existing among the wild tribes that overthrew Rome, was
purely republican. Each man was equal to every other; and they merely
conferred upon their sturdiest warrior a temporary authority to lead
them in battle. When these Franks (the word itself means freemen) found
themselves masters of the imperial, slave-holding world of Rome, the two
opposing systems coalesced in vague confusing whirl, from which emerged
naturally enough the "feudal system," the rule of a warrior aristocracy.
Gradually a few members of this nobility rose above the rest, became
centres of authority, kings, ruling over the States of modern Europe.
The lesser nobles lost their importance. The kings became absolute in
power and began to regard themselves as special beings, divinely
appointed to rule over their own country, and to snatch as much of their
neighbors' as they could.
Secure in their undisputed rank, the monarchs tolerated or even
encouraged the intellectual advance of their subjects, until those
subjects saw the selfishness of their masters, saw the folly of
submission and the ease of revolt, saw the world-old truth of man's
equality, to which tyranny and misery had so long blinded them.
Of course these ideas still hung nebulous in the air in the year 1775,
and Europe at first scarce noted that Britain was having trouble with
her distant colonies. Yet to America belongs the honor of having first
maintained against force the new or rather the old and now re-arisen
principles. England, it is true, had repudiated her Stuart kings still
earlier; but she had replaced their rule by that of a narrow
aristocracy, and now George III, the German king of the third generation
whom she had placed as a figure-head upon her throne, was beginning,
apparently with much success, to reassert the royal power. George III
was quite as much a tyrant to England as he was to America, and Britons
have long since recognized that America was fighting their battle for
independence as well as her own.
The English Parliament was not in those days a truly representative
body. The appointment of a large proportion of its members rested with a
few great lords; other members were elected by boards of aldermen and
similar small bodies. The large majority of Englishmen had no votes at
all, though the plea was advanced that they were "virtually
represented," that is, they were able to argue with and influence their
more fortunate brethren, and all would probably be actuated by similar
sentiments. This plea of "virtual representation" was now extended to
America, where its absurdity as applied to a people three thousand miles
away and engaged in constant protest against the course of the English
Government, became at once manifest, and the cry against "Taxation
without representation" became the motto of the Revolution.
THE AMERICAN REVOLUTION
Parliament, finding the Americans most unexpectedly resolute against
submitting to taxation, would have drawn back from the dispute; but King
George insisted on its continuance. He could not realize the difference
between free-born Americans long trained in habits of self-government,
and the unfortunate peasantry of Continental Europe, bowed by centuries
of suffering and submission. He thought it only necessary to bully the
feeble colonists, as Louis XIV had bullied the Huguenots by dragonnades.
Soldiers were sent to America to live on the inhabitants; and in Boston,
General Gage to complete the terror sent out a force to seize the
patriot leaders and destroy their supplies.
Then came "the shot heard round the world." Instead of cringing humbly,
the Americans resisted. Several were shot down at Lexington, and in
return the remainder attacked the soldiers with a resolution and skill
which the peasantry of an open country had never before displayed
against trained troops. These farmers had learned fighting from the
Indians, they had learned self-reliance, and each man acting for
himself, seeking what shelter he could find from tree or fence, fired
upon the Britons, until the most famous soldiery of Europe fled back to
Boston "their tongues hanging out of their mouths like dogs."[1]
The astonished Britons clamored that their opponents did not "fight
fair," meaning that the peasants did not stand still like sheep to be
slaughtered, or rush in bodies to be massacred by the superior weapons
and trained manoeuvres of the professional troops. Therein the
objection touched the very point of the world's advance: the common
people, the country folk of one land at least, had ceased to be mere
unthinking cattle; they acted from intellect, not from sheer brute
despair.
Within a week of Lexington an army of the Americans were gathered round
Boston to defend their homes from further invasions by these foreigners.
The English tried the issue again, and attacked the Americans at Bunker
Hill.[2] The steady valor of the regular troops, engaged on a regular
battle-ground, enabled them to drive the poorly armed peasants from
their intrenchments. But the victory was won at such frightful expense
of life to the British that it was not until forty years had brought
forgetfulness, that they tried a similar assault in military form
against the Americans at New Orleans. The farmers could shoot as well as
think. After Bunker Hill the Revolution was recognized as a serious war,
not a mere mad uprising of hopelessness. Washington took control of the
destinies of America. Congress proclaimed its Independence.[3]
At this period Northern America became unfortunately and apparently
permanently divided against itself. Canada, largely from its French
origin and language, had always stood apart from the more southern
English-speaking colonies. There had been repeated wars between them.
But now when England had seized possession of Canada and within fifteen
years of that event the southern colonists were fighting England, it did
seem probable or at least hopeful that all America might unite against
the common foe.
So thought the American Congress, and despatched a force, not against
the inhabitants of Canada, but against the British troops there, to
enable the Canadians to join in the revolt. The Canadians refused; the
British forces were brilliantly handled, and the tiny American army,
totally unequal to coping single-handed against the enemy and against
the gigantic natural difficulties of the expedition, failed--failed
gloriously but totally--and only roused anew against the southland the
antagonism of the Canadians, mingled now with contempt and a growing
admiration and even loyalty toward the Britons.[4]
Canada became a depot into which British troops were poured, and when
Lord Howe and his army had captured New York, the English Government
planned a powerful expedition to descend the Hudson valley, unite with
Howe and so isolate New England from the less violently rebellious
colonies farther south. On the success or failure of this undertaking
hung the fate not only of the new continent, but one seeing the
consequences now is almost tempted to say, the fate of the world.
The command was intrusted to Burgoyne, an experienced and capable
general. Troops were given to him, it was thought, amply sufficient to
overbear all opposition. There was no regular army to resist him. But
the American farmers of the region rallied in their own defence, they
hung like a cloud around Burgoyne's advance, they cut off his supplies,
they became ever more numerous in his front, until at last he fought
desperate battles against them, could not advance, and was compelled to
surrender his entire army.[5]
Instantly the war assumed a new aspect. Europe awoke to the fact that
England was engaged against a worthy foe. France, humbled in India,
driven from America, defeated on her own borders, saw her opportunity
for revenge, revenge against her hated rival. Moreover, the spirit of
freedom which had been proclaimed by Voltaire, by Rousseau, by a
thousand other voices, was awake in France; it saw its own cause,
hopeless at home, being triumphantly defended in America; and it cried
enthusiastically that the heroes should have aid. Spain, too, had sore
causes of complaint against England. So France first and then Spain made
alliance with the Americans. George III by his obstinacy had plunged his
realm into sore difficulties, had given the final blow to any possible
reëstablishment of kingly power in England.
The most immediate shock caused the Britons by the changed aspect of the
world, was given them by Paul Jones, an American naval officer. He took
advantage of the French alliance to secure a little fleet, part American
but mostly French; and with it he cruised boldly around Great Britain,
bidding defiance to her navy and plundering her shores, in some faint
imitation of the depredations her troops had committed in America. The
fight of Jones in his flagship against the English frigate Serapis has
become world-famous, and the grim resolution with which the American won
his way to victory in face of apparent impossibilities, taught the
Britons that on sea as well as on land they had met their match.[6]
For a time the island kingdom bore up against all her foes. The most
famous of the many sieges of Gibraltar occurred; and for three years the
French and Spanish fleets sought unavailingly to batter the stubborn
rock into surrender.[7] But at last a second British army was trapped
and captured at Yorktown by the French and Americans.[8] Then England
yielded. It was impossible for her longer to undertake the enormous task
of transporting troops across three thousand miles of ocean. She needed
them at home; and many of the English people had always protested
against the fratricidal war with their brethren in America. American
independence was acknowledged, and England was left free to demand a
peace of her European foes.[9]
The antagonisms roused by this bitter war, in which British troops had
repeatedly and cruelly ravaged the American lands and homes, were long
in fading. Canada had stood loyally by Great Britain, and the break
between the northern land and the other colonies was sharp and final.
Even throughout the States which had become independent, a portion of
the people had loyally upheld British rule; and on these unfortunates
the liberated Americans threatened to wreak vengeance for all that had
been endured. Thus came about a vast emigration of the "Tories" or
Loyalists from the new States to Canada. They brought with them the
bitterness of the expatriated, and Canada became yet more firmly
British, more "anti-American" than before.[10]
THE FRENCH REVOLUTION
Of even greater influence were the consequences of the American
Revolution as affecting Continental Europe. Estimates have differed
widely as to just how much the French Revolution was caused by that
across the ocean. Certain it is that Frenchmen had been enthusiastic in
America's cause, that many of their officers fought under Washington,
and returned home deeply infused with devotion to liberty. It has long
been a popular error, encouraged by historians of a former generation,
that the French Revolution arose from a starving peasantry driven to
madness by intolerable oppression. We know better now. It was in Paris,
not in the provinces, that the revolt began. Judged by modern standards,
of course, the French peasantry were oppressed; but if we measure their
condition by that of surrounding nations at the time, by the Austrians
under kind-hearted Maria Theresa, or even by the Prussians under
Frederick the Great, most advanced of the upholders of "benevolent
despotism," in whose lands serfs were still "sold with the soil"
compared with these, Frenchmen were free, prosperous, and happy. It is
even true that the lower classes were unready for change. In Hungary,
Joseph II, son of Maria Theresa, attempted a complete and radical reform
of all abuses, and the mob rose in fury against his innovations,
compelled him to restore their "ancient customs." They had grown
familiar with their chains.[11]
The French Revolution was an uprising of the middle classes. Its great
leaders in the earlier stages were Mirabeau, son of a baron, and
America's own friend the Marquis Lafayette. Even the King, Louis XVI, at
least partly approved the movement. The States-General was summoned in
1789 after an interval of nearly two centuries, to decide on the best
way of relieving the country from its financial embarrassments. This
gathering was soon resolved into a National Assembly which insisted on
giving France a constitution, making it a limited instead of an absolute
monarchy.[12]
On the 14th of July the mob of Paris rose in sudden fury and stormed the
ancient state prison, the Bastille. The King sent no troops to resist
them; and from that time his power was but a shadow. His overthrow,
however, was not yet contemplated. The Revolution was still to be one of
dignity and intellect. An entire year after the fall of the Bastille,
the president of the National Assembly could still say in addressing a
deputation of Americans headed by Paul Jones: "It was by helping you to
conquer liberty that the French learned to understand and love it. The
hands which went to burst your fetters were not made to wear them
themselves; but, more fortunate than you, it is our King himself, it is
a patriot and citizen king, who has called us to the happiness which we
are enjoying that happiness which has cost us merely sacrifices, but
which you paid for with torrents of blood Courage broke your chains;
reason has made ours fall off."
But alas! reason was soon to lose control. The lower classes had wakened
to a sense of their power, they began to use it savagely. Hatred of the
haughty aristocracy, long smoldering, burst everywhere into flame. Mobs
of country peasants plundered isolated chateaux and slew their inmates.
Meanwhile the National Assembly had been abolishing all titles of
nobility; the vast estates of the clergy were confiscated. The
aristocrats began fleeing from France, and the possessions of all who
fled were declared forfeited to the new government.
Imagine the tumult that this upheaval caused to the rest of Europe. News
travelled slowly in those days; but these "_émigrés_," these banished
nobles, were palpable evidences of what had occurred. The common folk
everywhere, especially along the French borders in Germany, Switzerland,
and Italy, celebrated the French triumph as their own. Liberty was at
hand! For them, too, it would come presently! Murmurings of revolt grew
loud. The monarchs of Europe, terrified, took up the cause of the
_Émigrés_ as their own. France was threatened with invasion. King Louis
threw in his lot with his royal friends and attempted flight from Paris.
He was caught and brought back a prisoner. A foreign army marched
against France.
This invasion was met and repelled in the Battle of Valmy (1792), not an
extensive or bloody contest in itself, but one of incalculable
importance in human history, because like Bunker Hill it showed that a
new force had arisen to upset all the military calculations of the past.
Raw troops could now be found to meet on equal terms with veterans.
Liberty, hitherto an impalpable idea, a mere phantom in the brains of a
few philosophers, proved able to call up armies at a word, able
physically to hold its own against embattled despotism. Even the German
Goethe wrote of Valmy, "In this place and on this day a new era of the
world begins."[13]
France however had already gone mad with its success. Even before Valmy
wholesale murder had begun in Paris. The prisons were broken open and a
thousand "aristocrats" hideously butchered without trial. The day after
Valmy, the land was proclaimed a republic. King Louis was put on trial
for his life, and in January, 1793, was executed.[14] Frenchmen began
fighting among themselves. The reign of "terror" began as that of kings
was abolished. Chiefs of each faction accused all others as traitors,
and executions by the guillotine rose to fifty a day. "We must have a
hundred!" cried Robespierre, the lunatic leader of the moment.
The excesses in Paris roused civil war, and through all France men slew
one another in the name of liberty. In Brittany the peasants even rose
in support of royalty, and refused allegiance to the republic. Never has
the most hideous brutality of man been more openly displayed than in
those days of vengeance. The intellectual classes of Europe everywhere
shrank back, terrified at the spectre they had evoked.
The Reign of Terror ended in 1794 with the downfall and execution of its
leader, Robespierre.[15] The civil war was trampled out in blood. And
with Titanic energy the French Republic defended itself against its
foreign foes.
All Europe had joined in a coalition against France--all the kings, that
is. Their subjects still doubted, still hoped, still looked anxiously to
France to see if freedom were in truth a possibility. Then from the
ranks of the liberated French arose great generals, aristocrats no
longer, but men of the people, fitted to lead the new-born armies of the
people. Greatest of these and grimmest of them was Napoleon Bonaparte.
He taught the timorous legislative authorities of Paris how to reassert
their dominion over "King Mob," who had ruled them and the country for
four hideous years. He checked a new uprising by a discharge of
well-stationed cannon, aimed to kill.
Order being thus established at home, the French began to pour over the
border in attack upon those kings who had threatened them. In many
places they were still received as the apostles of liberty. Holland,
Switzerland, the Rhine lands, became allies or dependents of France.
Kings were helpless against them. To the spirit of Republicanism, to the
impassioned courage of Frenchmen, was added the genius of Bonaparte. He
conquered Italy. He plundered her and sent home priceless treasures to
delight his countrymen and fill their exhausted treasury. He became the
man of the hour.[16]
Far beyond France spread the influence of her example. In Eastern
Europe, Poland was roused against the despoilers who had already seized
a portion of her territory. She began a rebellion under Kosciuszko, who,
like Lafayette, had imbibed the love of freedom in America. But Poland
was crushed by the overpowering forces of Russia, Prussia, and Austria.
Her remaining provinces were divided among the plunderers and the last
fragment of her independence was extinguished.[17]
In Haiti also there was a rebellion. The negroes of the island rose
against their Spanish masters and drove them into exile. Toussaint
Louverture, often regarded as the greatest hero of his race, led the
insurgents victoriously against both Spanish and English forces, and
finally with French help established the independence of Haiti as a
negro republic. He became administrator as well as warrior. After a few
successful years he was treacherously seized and held prisoner by
Napoleon; but the monument he had erected for himself, the "Black
Republic," continued and still continues to exist.[18]
In a period so tumultuous as was this quarter-century, one could scarce
expect that the world would make much progress in science. Men were too
intent on sterner things. There was, however, just before the beginning
of the French Revolution, one event which to a future generation may
seem more important even than to us. Aërial navigation began. The first
successful balloon ascension was made by the Montgolfier brothers, and
the sport became for a while a Parisian fad.[19] Still more noteworthy
was the employment of vaccination as a preventive against smallpox. The
system was introduced in England by Jenner in 1798, and its use spread
rapidly over Europe. More recently it has been employed against other
diseases as well, and the resultant increase in the general health of
mankind is beyond computation.[20]
FORMATION OF THE UNITED STATES
Meanwhile America, the source or at least the partial source of all this
republican tumult, was having difficulties of her own. The peace after
Yorktown left her exhausted. The Articles of Confederation which had
sufficed to hold the colonies together under the stress of their great
necessity, had proven insufficient to give any real unity. Each little
colony was jealous of its own power as an independent State: and for a
time it seemed as if they must disband, that America must become like
Europe, divided into a collection of separate ever-jarring States,
devastated by constant wars.
That this was not our own country's fate, we owe to Washington. Our
saviour in war, he became also our saviour in peace. After watching
through some years of this disorganization, he emerged from the peaceful
retirement of his country home, to urge that some means be taken to form
a more perfect union. It was largely through his instrumentality that
the convention of 1787 was called; and he presided over its labors.
Again and again it seemed as if the convention would disband in anarchy.
The antagonisms between the various delegates appeared irreconcilable.
But always there was Washington to control the flaming passions, to
insist upon moderation, upon union. And in the end that convention drew
up the Constitution of the United States.[21]
Even then there remained the task of persuading each State to accept the
Constitution; and this also would have been impossible had not all men
looked to Washington to act as president of the new republic, to do
justice between its differing sections. Relying equally on his wisdom,
his caution, and his incorruptibility, the States intrusted to him a
power they would have conferred upon no other.
Two years were occupied in arranging matters, and then, in 1789, the
date so memorable to France as well, the new government was organized,
Washington was inaugurated as President, and the United States began its
stupendous career as a single nation.[22]
There were difficulties, of course. American finances seemed as
hopelessly involved as had been those of monarchical France. But this
rock upon which the French projects of reform all split, our government
escaped by the financial genius of Alexander Hamilton.[23] The natural
summons of the French that the Americans should become their allies,
should help them to win freedom in their turn, proved another source of
danger. A thousand others were not lacking. But Washington's
conservatism preserved his government through all. He proclaimed
America's well-known policy toward the European States: "Friendship with
all, entangling alliances with none." The material prosperity of the
country increased rapidly. Eli Whitney invented the cotton-gin, which
made cotton cultivation so remunerative that the South grew rich, and
also, alas, became wedded to the system of slavery under which it was
supposed cotton could best be produced.[24]
For eight years Washington guided the destinies of the infant nation,
and then resigned his authority to one of his lieutenants. So that
really the great leader's influence continued predominant until he died
in December, 1799. Already however the more radical of Americans were
grown restive under his restraining hand. Federalism, conservatism, was
losing its control upon the national counsels, a change toward wider and
more radical democracy was at hand.
OVERTHROW OF DEMOCRACY IN FRANCE
The year of 1799 saw also a great change in France, but in the opposite
direction, away from democracy and back toward absolutism. The French
government, grown rash with its marvellous victories, had dared to
despatch Bonaparte, its ablest general, on an ill-considered and
somewhat fanciful expedition to distant Egypt. There his fleet was
destroyed by the English admiral, Nelson, in the celebrated Battle of
the Nile, and he and his army were left practically prisoners in
Egypt.[25]
Deprived of his genius at home, French military affairs went badly.
Monarchy rallied from its momentary depression. Russian troops drove the
French from Switzerland; Germans defeated them along the Rhine. The
Constitutional government in Paris was proving impracticable, its
members incompetent. Bonaparte saw his opportunity. Leaving his army in
Egypt, he escaped the British and returned alone to France. In Paris he
summoned the soldiers around him, entered the hall of the assembly,
and, much as Cromwell had once done in England, bade the wrangling
members disperse. Then he constructed a new government, which he still
called a republic. But as he himself was to be First Consul, with almost
all power in his own hands, the Government proved in reality as complete
an absolutism as that of Richelieu or Louis XIV. The first European
attempt at democracy had perished. The new century was to learn what
this suddenly risen dictator would establish in its stead.
[FOR THE NEXT SECTION OF THIS GENERAL SURVEY SEE VOLUME XV]
FOOTNOTES:
[1] See _Battle of Lexington_, page 1.
[2] See _Battle of Bunker Hill_, page 19.
[3] See _Signing of American Declaration of Independence_, page 39.
[4] See _Canada Remains Loyal to England_, page 30.
[5] See _Defeat of Burgoyne at Saratoga_, page 51.
[6] See _First Victory of the American Navy_, page 68.
[7] See _British Defence of Gibraltar_, page 116.
[8] See _Siege and Surrender of Yorktown_, page 97.
[9] See _Close of the American Revolution_, page 137.
[10] See _Settlement of American Loyalists in Canada_, page 156.
[11] See _Joseph II Attempts Reform in Hungary_, page 85.
[12] See _French Revolution: Storming of the Bastille_, page 212.
[13] See _Republican France Defies Europe: Battle of Valmy_, page 252.
[14] See _Execution of Louis XVI: Murder of Marat: Civil War in France_,
page 295.
[15] See _The Reign of Terror_, page 311.
[16] See _The Rise of Napoleon: The French Conquest of Italy_, page 339.
[17] See _The Downfall of Poland_, page 330.
[18] See _Negro Revolution in Haiti_, page 236.
[19] See _First Balloon Ascension_, page 63.
[20] See _Jenner Introduces Vaccination_, page 363.
[21] See _Framing of the Constitution of the United States_, page 173.
[22] See _Inauguration of Washington: His Farewell Address_, page 197.
[23] See _Hamilton Establishes the United States Bank_, page 230.
[24] See _Invention of the Cotton-gin_, page 271.
[25] See _Overthrow of the Mamelukes: The Battle of the Nile_, page 353.
BATTLE OF LEXINGTON
A.D. 1775
RICHARD FROTHINGHAM
April 19, 1775, is memorable in American history as the day
on which occurred the first bloodshed of the Revolution. The
two combats of the day--that at Lexington and that at
Concord--really constituted one action, which ended in a
long running fight. As a single action, it is usually called
the Battle of Lexington. The engagement at Concord,
separately considered, is called the Battle of Concord, or
the Concord Fight.
At both places, on that fateful day, "the embattled farmers"
faced the troops of their own sovereign, to resist what was
felt to be an unwarranted and menacing invasion of American
liberties. While the soldiers of King George were doing
their own loyal duty, the New England yeomen who "fired the
shot heard round the world" obeyed a conviction still more
compelling. Hence came the first physical struggle in what
was already an "irrepressible conflict" of principle between
Englishmen and their kinsmen on the American continent.
The Revolutionary War was begun on the part of the Americans
for the redress of grievances for which they had exhausted
all peaceable endeavors to secure a remedy. It was afterward
successfully waged for independence. Repressive measures of
Great Britain in the colonies began with the issuance by
colonial courts of "writs of assistance." These writs
authorized officers to summon assistance in searching
certain premises under certain laws. In the first attempt to
enforce such a writ--in Massachusetts, 1761--the policy was
defeated through popular opposition, brilliantly led by
James Otis, who by a single speech produced such an effect
that John Adams said of the occasion: "Then and there was
the first scene of the first act of opposition to the
arbitrary claims of Great Britain. Then and there the child
Independence was born."
Later grievances were those of the Stamp Act (1765), taxes
on paints, glass, etc. (1767), and the Boston Port Bill
(1774), ordering the closing of the port on account of the
rebellious acts of the citizens, especially in the
"tea-party" of December 16, 1773, when they threw into the
waters of the harbor from English ships tea valued at
eighteen thousand pounds. As early as 1770 had occurred the
"Boston Massacre," a collision between citizens and British
soldiers, which added to earlier discontents and increased
the sensitiveness to later irritations.
The first Continental Congress, in 1774, though strongly
pacific, favored resistance to aggressions of the Crown.
During this year and the next two Provincial Congresses met
in Massachusetts, the collection of military stores was
authorized, a committee of safety was created, and the
"minute-men" were organized.
General Gage, the British commander in Boston, denounced
these proceedings as treasonable. Parliament vainly sought
to adjust the difficulties and enforce its authority.
Conciliatory efforts on both sides failing, it soon became
evident that a conflict of arms was at hand. By April 4,
1775, it was known in Boston that reënforcements were on
their way to General Gage. Soon after their arrival he was
ready for the movement with which the narrative of
Frothingham, a high authority on these events, begins.
General Gage had, in the middle of April, 1775, about four thousand men
in Boston. He resolved, by a secret expedition, to destroy the magazines
collected at Concord. This measure was neither advised by his council
nor by his officers. It was said that he was worried into it by the
importunities of the Tories; but it was undoubtedly caused by the
energetic measures of the Whigs. His own subsequent justification was
that when he saw an assembly of men, unknown to the Constitution,
wresting from him the public moneys and collecting warlike stores, it
was alike his duty and the dictate of humanity to prevent the calamity
of civil war by destroying these magazines. His previous belief was that
should the Government show a respectable force in the field, seize the
most obnoxious patriot leaders, and proclaim a pardon for others, it
would come off victorious.
On April 15th the grenadiers and light infantry, on the pretence of
learning a new military exercise, were relieved from duty; and at night
the boats of the transport ships which had been hauled up to be repaired
were launched and moored under the sterns of the men-of-war. These
movements looked suspicious to the vigilant patriots, and Dr. Joseph
Warren sent intelligence of them to Hancock and Adams, who were in
Lexington. It was this timely notice that induced the committee of
safety to take additional measures for the security of the stores in
Concord, and to order (on the 17th) cannon to be secreted, and a part of
the stores to be removed to Sudbury and Groton.
On Tuesday, April 18th, General Gage directed several officers to
station themselves on the roads leading out of Boston, and prevent any
intelligence of his intended expedition that night from reaching the
country. A party of them, on that day, dined at Cambridge. The
committees of safety and supplies, which usually held their sessions
together, also met that day, at Wetherby's Tavern, in Menotomy, now West
Cambridge. Elbridge Gerry and Colonels Orne and Lee, of the members,
remained to pass the night. Richard Devens and Abraham Watson rode in a
chaise toward Charlestown, but, soon meeting a number of British
officers on horseback, they returned to inform their friends at the
tavern, waited there until the officers rode by, and then rode to
Charlestown. Gerry immediately sent an express to Hancock and Adams,
that "eight or nine officers were out, suspected of some evil design,"
which caused precautionary measures to be adopted at Lexington.
Richard Devens, an efficient member of the committee of safety, soon
received intelligence that the British troops were in motion in Boston,
and were certainly preparing to go into the country. Shortly after, the
signal agreed upon in this event was given, namely, a lantern hung out
from the North Church steeple in Boston, when Devens immediately
despatched an express with this intelligence to Menotomy and Lexington.
All this while General Gage supposed his movements were a profound
secret, and as such in the evening communicated them in confidence to
Lord Percy. But as this nobleman was crossing the Common on his way to
his quarters he joined a group of men engaged in conversation, when one
said, "The British troops have marched, but will miss their aim!"
"What aim?" inquired Lord Percy.
"Why, the cannon at Concord." He hastened back to General Gage with this
information, when orders were immediately issued that no person should
leave town. Dr. Warren, however, a few minutes previous, had sent Paul
Revere and William Dawes into the country. Revere, about eleven o'clock,
rowed across the river to Charlestown, was supplied by Richard Devens
with a horse, and started to alarm the country. Just outside of
Charlestown Neck he barely escaped capture by British officers; but
leaving one of them in a clay-pit, he got to Medford, awoke the captain
of the minute-men, gave the alarm on the road, and reached the Rev.
Jonas Clark's house in safety, where the evening before a guard of
eight men had been stationed to protect Hancock and Adams.
It was midnight as Revere rode up and requested admittance. William
Monroe, the sergeant, told him that the family, before retiring to rest,
had requested that they might not be disturbed by noise about the house.
"Noise!" replied Revere; "you'll have noise enough before long--the
regulars are coming out!" He was then admitted. Dawes, who went out
through Roxbury, soon joined him. Their intelligence was "that a large
body of the King's troops, supposed to be a brigade of twelve or fifteen
hundred, had embarked in boats from Boston, and gone over to Lechmere's
Point, in Cambridge, and it was suspected they were ordered to seize and
destroy the stores belonging to the colony, then deposited at Concord."
The town of Lexington, Major Phinney writes, is "about twelve miles
northwest of Boston and six miles southeast of Concord. It was
originally a part of Cambridge, and previous to its separation from that
town was called the Cambridge Farms." The act of incorporation bears
date March 20, 1712. The inhabitants consist principally of hardy and
independent yeomanry. In 1775 the list of enrolled militia bore the
names of over one hundred citizens. The road leading from Boston divides
near the centre of the village in Lexington. The part leading to Concord
passes to the left, and that leading to Bedford to the right, of the
meeting-house, and form two sides of a triangular green or common, on
the south corner of which stands the meeting-house, facing directly down
the road leading to Boston. At the right of the meeting-house, on the
opposite side of Bedford road, was Buckman's Tavern.
About one o'clock the Lexington alarm-men and militia were summoned to
meet at their usual place of parade, on the Common; and messengers were
sent toward Cambridge for additional information. When the militia
assembled, about two o'clock in the morning, Captain John Parker, its
commander, ordered the roll to be called, and the men to load with
powder and ball. About one hundred thirty were now assembled with arms.
One of the messengers soon returned with the report that there was no
appearance of troops on the roads; and the weather being chilly, the
men, after being on parade some time, were dismissed with orders to
appear again at the beat of the drum. They dispersed into houses near
the place of parade--the greater part going into Buckman's Tavern. It
was generally supposed that the movements in Boston were only a feint to
alarm the people.
Revere and Dawes started to give the alarm in Concord, and soon met Dr.
Samuel Prescott, a warm patriot, who agreed to assist in arousing the
people. While they were thus engaged they were suddenly met by a party
of officers, well armed and mounted, when a scuffle ensued, during which
Revere was captured; but Prescott, by leaping a stone-wall, made his
escape. The same officers had already detained three citizens of
Lexington, who had been sent out the preceding evening to watch their
movements. All the prisoners, after being questioned closely, were
released near Lexington, when Revere rejoined Hancock and Adams, and
went with them toward Woburn, two miles from Clark's house.
While these things were occurring, the British regulars were marching
toward Concord. Lieutenant-Colonel Smith, at the head of about eight
hundred troops--grenadiers, light infantry, and marines--embarked about
ten o'clock at the foot of Boston Common, in the boats of the ships of
war. They landed, just as the moon arose, at Phipps' Farm, now Lechmere
Point, took an unfrequented path over the marshes, where in some places
they had to wade through water, and entered the old Charlestown and West
Cambridge road. No martial sounds enlivened their midnight march; it was
silent, stealthy, inglorious. The members of the "Rebel Congress" arose
from their beds at the tavern in Menotomy, to view them. They saw the
front pass on with the regularity of veteran discipline. But when the
centre was opposite the window, an officer and file of men were detached
toward the house. Gerry, Orne, and Lee, half-dressed as they were, then
took the hint and escaped to an adjoining field, while the British in
vain searched the house.
Colonel Smith had marched but few miles when the sounds of guns and
bells gave the evidence that, notwithstanding the caution of General
Gage, the country was alarmed. He detached six companies of light
infantry, under the command of Major Pitcairn, with orders to press
forward and secure the two bridges at Concord, while he sent a messenger
to Boston for a reënforcement. The party of officers who had been out
joined the detachment, with the exaggerated report that five hundred men
were in arms to oppose the King's forces. Major Pitcairn, as he
advanced, succeeded in capturing everyone on the road until he arrived
within a mile and a half of Lexington Meeting-house, when Thaddeus
Bowman succeeded in eluding the advancing troops, and, galloping to the
Common, gave the first certain intelligence to Captain Parker of their
approach.
It was now about half-past four in the morning. Captain Parker ordered
the drum to beat, alarm-guns to be fired, and Sergeant William Monroe to
form his company in two ranks a few rods north of the meeting-house. It
was a part of "the constitutional army," which was authorized to make a
regular and forcible resistance to any open hostility by the British
troops; and it was for this purpose that this gallant and devoted band
on this memorable morning appeared on the field. Whether it ought to
maintain its ground or whether it ought to retreat would depend upon the
bearing and numbers of the regulars. It was not long in suspense. At a
short distance from the parade-ground the British officers, regarding
the American drum as a challenge, ordered their troops to halt, to prime
and load, and then to march forward in double-quick time.
Meantime sixty or seventy of the militia had collected, and about forty
spectators, a few of whom had arms. Captain Parker ordered his men not
to fire unless they were fired upon. A part of his company had time to
form in a military position facing the regulars; but while some were
joining the ranks and others were dispersing, the British troops rushed
on, shouting and firing, and their officers--among whom was Major
Pitcairn--exclaiming, "Ye villains! ye rebels! disperse!" "Lay down your
arms!" "Why don't you lay down your arms?" The militia did not instantly
disperse nor did they proceed to lay down their arms.
The first guns, few in number, did no execution. A general discharge
followed, with fatal results. A few of the militia who had been wounded,
or who saw others killed or wounded by their side, no longer hesitated,
but returned the fire of the regulars. Jonas Parker, John Monroe, and
Ebenezer Monroe, Jr., and others, fired before leaving the line; Solomon
Brown and James Brown fired from behind a stone wall; one other person
fired from the back door of Buckman's house; Nathan Monroe, Lieutenant
Benjamin Tidd and others retreated a short distance and fired. Meantime
the regulars continued their fire as long as the militia remained in
sight, killing eight and wounding ten. Jonas Parker, who repeatedly said
he never would run from the British, was wounded at the second fire, but
he still discharged his gun, and was killed by a bayonet. "A truer heart
did not bleed at Thermopylæ."
Isaac Muzzy, Jonathan Harrington, and Robert Monroe were also killed on
or near the place where the line was formed. "Harrington's was a cruel
fate. He fell in front of his own house, on the north of the Common. His
wife at the window saw him fall and then start up, the blood gushing
from his breast. He stretched out his hands toward her as if for
assistance, and fell again. Rising once more on his hands and knees, he
crawled across the road toward his dwelling. She ran to meet him at the
door, but it was to see him expire at her feet."
Monroe was the standard-bearer of his company at the capture of
Louisburg. Caleb Harrington was killed as he was running from the
meeting-house after replenishing his stock of powder; Samuel Hadley and
John Brown, after they had left the Common; Asahel Porter, of Woburn,
who had been taken prisoner by the British as he was endeavoring to
effect his escape.
The British suffered but little; a private of the Tenth regiment and
probably one other were wounded, and Major Pitcairn's horse was struck.
Some of the Provincials retreated up the road leading to Bedford, but
most of them across a swamp to a rising ground north of the Common. The
British troops formed on the Common, fired a volley, and gave three
huzzas in token of victory. Colonel Smith, with the remainder of the
troops, soon joined Major Pitcairn, and the whole detachment marched
toward Concord, about six miles distant, which it reached without
further interruption. After it left Lexington six of the regulars were
taken prisoners.
Concord was described in 1775, by Ensign Berniere, as follows: "It lies
between two hills, that command it entirely. There is a river runs
through it, with two bridges over it. In summer it is pretty dry. The
town is large, and contains a church, jail, and court-house; but the
houses are not close together, but in little groups." The road from
Lexington entered Concord from the southeast along the side of a hill,
which commences on the right of it about a mile below the village, rises
abruptly from thirty to fifty feet above the road, and terminates at the
northeasterly part of the square. The top forms a plain, which commands
a view of the town. Here was the liberty-pole. The court-house stood
near the present county-house. The main branch of the Concord River
flows sluggishly, in a serpentine direction, on the westerly and
northerly side of the village, about half a mile from its centre. This
river was crossed by two bridges--one called the Old South bridge--the
other, by the Rev. William Emerson's, called the Old North bridge. The
road beyond the North bridge led to Colonel James Barrett's, about two
miles from the centre of the town.
Dr. Samuel Prescott, whose escape has been related, gave the alarm in
Lincoln and Concord. It was between one and two o'clock in the morning
when the quiet community of Concord were aroused from their slumbers by
the sounds of the church-bell. The committee of safety, the military
officers, and prominent citizens assembled for consultation. Messengers
were despatched toward Lexington for information; the militia and
minute-men were formed on the customary parade-ground near the
meeting-house; and the inhabitants, with a portion of the militia, under
the able superintendence of Colonel Barrett, zealously labored in
removing the military stores into the woods and by-places for safety.
These scenes were novel and distressing; and among others, Rev. William
Emerson, the patriotic clergyman, mingled with the people, and gave
counsel and comfort to the terrified women and children.
Reuben Brown, one of the messengers sent to obtain information, returned
with the startling intelligence that the British regulars had fired upon
his countrymen at Lexington, and were on their march for Concord. It was
determined to go out to meet them. A part of the military of
Lincoln--the minute-men, under Captain William Smith, and the militia,
under Captain Samuel Farrar--had joined the Concord people; and after
parading on the Common, some of the companies marched down the
Lexington road until they saw the British two miles from the centre of
the town. Captain Minot, with the alarm company, remained in town, and
took possession of the hill near the liberty-pole. He had no sooner
gained it, however, than the companies that had gone down the road
returned with the information that the number of the British was treble
that of the Americans. The whole then fell back to an eminence about
eighty rods distance, back of the town, where they formed in two
battalions. Colonel Barrett, the commander, joined them here, having
previously been engaged in removing the stores. They had scarcely formed
when the British troops appeared in sight at the distance of a quarter
of a mile, and advancing with great celerity--their arms glittering in
the splendor of early sunshine. But little time remained for
deliberation. Some were in favor of resisting the further approach of
the troops; while others, more prudent, advised a retreat and a delay
until further reënforcements should arrive. Colonel Barrett ordered the
militia to retire over the North bridge to a commanding eminence about a
mile from the centre of the town.
The British troops then marched into Concord in two divisions--one by
the main road, and the other on the hill north of it, from which the
Americans had just retired. They were posted in the following manner:
The grenadiers and light infantry, under the immediate command of
Colonel Smith, remained in the centre of the town. Captain Parsons, with
six light companies, about two hundred men, was detached to secure the
North bridge and to destroy stores, who stationed three companies, under
Captain Laurie, at the bridge, and proceeded with the other three
companies to the residence of Colonel Barrett, about two miles distant,
to destroy the magazines deposited there. Captain Pole, with a party,
was sent, for a similar purpose, to the South bridge. The British met
with but partial success in the work of destruction, in consequence of
the diligent concealment of the stores. In the centre of the town they
broke open about sixty barrels of flour, nearly half of which was
subsequently saved; knocked off the trunnions of three iron
twenty-four-pound cannon, and burned sixteen new carriage-wheels and a
few barrels of wooden trenchers and spoons. They cut down the
liberty-pole, and set the court-house on fire, which was put out,
however, by the exertions of Mrs. Moulton. The parties at the South
bridge and at Colonel Barrett's met with poor success. While engaged in
this manner the report of guns at the North bridge put a stop to their
proceedings.
The British troops had been in Concord about two hours. During this time
the minute-men from the neighboring towns had been constantly arriving
on the high grounds, a short distance from the North bridge, until they
numbered about four hundred fifty. They were formed in line by Joseph
Hosmer, who acted as adjutant. It is difficult, if not impossible, to
ascertain certainly what companies were present thus early in the day.
They came from Carlisle, from Chelmsford, from Westford, from Littleton,
and from Acton. The minute-men of Acton were commanded by Captain Isaac
Davis, a brave and energetic man. Most of the operations of the British
troops were visible from this place of rendezvous, and several fires
were seen in the middle of the town. Anxious apprehensions were then
felt for its fate. A consultation of officers and of prominent citizens
was held. It was probably during this conference that Captain William
Smith, of Lincoln, volunteered, with his company, to dislodge the
British guard at the North bridge. Captain Isaac Davis, as he returned
from it to his ranks, also remarked, "I haven't a man that's afraid to
go." The result of this council was that it was expedient to dislodge
the guard at the North bridge. Colonel Barrett accordingly ordered the
militia to march to it, and to pass it, but not to fire on the King's
troops unless they were fired upon. He designated Major John Buttrick to
lead the companies to effect this object. Lieutenant-Colonel Robinson
volunteered to accompany him. On the march Major Buttrick requested
Colonel Robinson to act as his superior, but he generously declined.
It was nearly ten o'clock in the morning when the Provincials, about
three hundred in number, arrived near the river. The company from Acton
was in front, and Major Buttrick, Colonel Robinson, and Captain Davis
were at their head. Captains David Brown, Charles Miles, Nathan Barrett,
and William Smith, with their companies, and also other companies, fell
into the line. Their positions, however, are not precisely known. They
marched in double file, and with trailed arms. The British guard, under
Captain Laurie, about one hundred in number, were then on the west side
of the river, but on seeing the Provincials approach they retired over
the bridge to the east side of the river, formed as if for a fight, and
began to take up the planks of the bridge. Major Buttrick remonstrated
against this and ordered his men to hasten their march.
When they had arrived within a few rods of the bridge the British began
to fire upon them. The first guns, few in number, did no execution;
others followed with deadly effect. Luther Blanchard, a fifer in the
Acton company, was first wounded; and afterward Captain Isaac Davis and
Abner Hosmer, of the same company, were killed. On seeing the fire take
effect Major Buttrick exclaimed, "Fire, fellow-soldiers! for God's sake,
fire!" The Provincials then fired, and killed one and wounded several of
the enemy. The fire lasted but a few minutes. The British immediately
retreated in great confusion toward the main body--a detachment from
which was soon on its way to meet them. The Provincials pursued them
over the bridge, when one of the wounded of the British was cruelly
killed by a hatchet.
Part of the Provincials soon turned to the left, and ascended the hill
on the east of the main road, while another portion returned to the high
grounds, carrying with them the remains of the gallant Davis and Hosmer.
Military order was broken, and many who had been on duty all the morning
and were hungry and fatigued improved the time to take refreshment.
Meantime the party under Captain Parsons--who was piloted by Ensign
Berniere--returned from Captain Barrett's house, repassed the bridge
where the skirmish took place, and saw the bodies of their companions,
one of which was mangled. It would have been easy for the Provincials to
have cut them off. But war had not been declared; and it is evident that
it had not been fully resolved to attack the British troops. Hence this
party of about one hundred were allowed, unmolested, to join the main
body. Colonel Smith concentrated his force, obtained conveyances for the
wounded, and occupied about two hours in making preparations to return
to Boston--a delay that nearly proved fatal to the whole detachment.
While these great events were occurring at Lexington and Concord, the
intelligence of the hostile march of the British troops was spreading
rapidly through the country; and hundreds of local communities, animated
by the same determined and patriotic spirit, were sending out their
representatives to the battle-field. The minute-men, organized and ready
for action, promptly obeyed the summons to parade. They might wait in
some instances to receive a parting blessing from their minister, or to
take leave of weeping friends; but in all the roads leading to Concord,
they were hurrying to the scene of action. They carried the firelock
that had fought the Indian, and the drum that beat at Louisburg; and
they were led by men who had served under Wolfe at Quebec. As they drew
near the places of bloodshed and massacre they learned that in both
cases the regulars had been the aggressors--"had fired the first"--and
they were deeply touched by the slaughter of their brethren. Now the
British had fairly passed the Rubicon. If any still counselled
forbearance, moderation, peace, the words were thrown away. The
assembling bands felt that the hour had come in which to hurl back the
insulting charges on their courage that had been repeated for years, and
to make good the solemn words of their public bodies. And they
determined to attack on their return the invaders of their native soil.
Colonel Smith, about twelve o'clock, commenced his march for Boston. His
left was covered by a strong flank-guard that kept the height of land
that borders the Lexington road, leading to Merriam's Corner; his right
was protected by a brook; the main body marched in the road. The British
soon saw how thoroughly the country had been alarmed. It seemed, one of
them writes, that "men had dropped from the clouds," so full were the
hills and roads of the minute-men. The Provincials left the high grounds
near the North bridge and went across the pastures known as "the Great
Fields," to Bedford road. Here the Reading minute-men, under Major
Brooks, afterward Governor Brooks, joined them; and a few minutes after,
Colonel William Thompson, with a body of militia from Billerica and
vicinity, came up. It is certain, from the diaries and petitions of this
period, that minute-men from other towns also came up in season to fire
upon the British while leaving Concord.
The Reverend Foster, who was with the Reading company, relates the
beginning of the afternoon contest in the following manner: "A little
before we came to Merriam's hill we discovered the enemy's flank-guard,
of about eighty or one hundred men, who, on their retreat from Concord,
kept that height of land, the main body in the road. The British troops
and the Americans at that time were equally distant from Merriam's
Corner. About twenty rods short of that place the Americans made a halt.
The British marched down the hill, with very slow but steady step,
without music, or a word being spoken that could be heard. Silence
reigned on both sides. As soon as the British had gained the main road,
and passed a small bridge near that corner, they faced about suddenly
and fired a volley of musketry upon us. They overshot; and no one, to my
knowledge, was injured by the fire. The fire was immediately returned by
the Americans, and two British soldiers fell dead, at a little distance
from each other, in the road, near the brook."
The battle now began in earnest, and as the British troops retreated a
severe fire was poured in upon them from every favorable position. Near
Hardy's hill, the Sudbury company, led by Captain Nathaniel Cudworth,
attacked them, and there was a severe skirmish below Brooks' Tavern on
the old road north of the school-house. The woods lined both sides of
the road which the British had to pass, and it was filled with the
minute-men. "The enemy," says Mr. Foster, "was now completely between
two fires, renewed and briskly kept up. They ordered out a flank-guard
on the left to dislodge the Americans from their posts behind large
trees, but they only became a better mark to be shot at." A short and
sharp battle ensued. And for three or four miles along these woody
defiles the British suffered terribly. Woburn had "turned out
extraordinary"; it sent out a force one hundred eighty strong, "well
armed and resolved in defence of the common cause." Major Loammi
Baldwin, afterward Colonel Baldwin, was with this body. At Tanner brook,
at Lincoln bridge, they concluded to scatter, make use of the trees and
walls as defences, and thus attack the British. And in this way they
kept on pursuing and flanking them. In Lincoln, also, Captain Parker's
brave Lexington company again appeared in the field, and did efficient
service. "The enemy," says Colonel Baldwin, "marched very fast, and left
many dead and wounded and a few tired." Eight were buried in Lincoln
graveyard. It was at this time that Captain Jonathan Wilson, of Bedford,
Nathaniel Wyman, of Billerica, and Daniel Thompson, of Woburn, were
killed.
In Lexington, at Fiske's hill, an officer on a fine horse, with a drawn
sword in his hand, was actively engaged in directing the troops, when a
number of the pursuers, from behind a pile of rails, fired at him with
effect. The officer fell, and the horse, in affright, leaped the wall,
and ran toward those who had fired. It was here that Lieutenant-Colonel
Smith was severely wounded in the leg. At the foot of this hill a
personal contest between James Hayward, of Acton, and a British soldier
took place. The Briton drew up his gun, remarking, "You are a dead man!"
"And so are you!" answered Hayward. The former was killed. Hayward was
mortally wounded and died the next day.
The British troops, when they arrived within a short distance of
Lexington Meeting-house, again suffered severely from the close pursuit
and the sharp fire of the Provincials. Their ammunition began to fail,
while their light companies were so fatigued as to be almost unfitted
for service. The large number of wounded created confusion, and many of
the troops rather ran than marched in order. For some time the officers
in vain tried to restore discipline. They saw the confusion increase
under their efforts, until, at last, they placed themselves in front,
and threatened the men with death if they advanced. This desperate
exertion, made under a heavy fire, partially restored order. The
detachment, however, must have soon surrendered had it not in its
extreme peril found shelter in the hollow square of a reënforcement sent
to their relief.
General Gage received, early in the morning, a request from Colonel
Smith for a reënforcement. About nine o'clock he detached three
regiments of infantry and two divisions of marines, with two
field-pieces, under Lord Percy, to support the grenadiers and light
infantry. Lord Percy marched through Roxbury, to the tune of _Yankee
Doodle_ to the great alarm of the country. To prevent or to impede his
march, the select-men of Cambridge had the planks of the Old bridge,
over which he was obliged to pass, taken up; but instead of being
removed, they were piled on the causeway on the Cambridge side of the
river. Hence Lord Percy found no difficulty in replacing them so as to
admit his troops to cross. But a convoy of provisions was detained until
it was out of the protection of the main body. This was captured at West
Cambridge. According to Gordon, Rev. Dr. Payson led this party. David
Lamson, a half-Indian, distinguished himself in the affair. Percy's
brigade met the harassed and retreating troops about two o'clock, within
half a mile of Lexington Meeting-house. "They were so much exhausted
with fatigue," the British historian Stedman writes, "that they were
obliged to lie down for rest on the ground, their tongues hanging out of
their mouths like those of dogs after a chase." The field-pieces from
the high ground below Monroe's Tavern played on the Provincials, and for
a short period there was, save the discharge of cannon, a cessation of
battle. From this time, however, the troops committed the most wanton
destruction. Three houses, two shops, and a barn were laid in ashes in
Lexington; buildings on the route were defaced and plundered, and
individuals were grossly abused.
At this time, Dr. Warren and General Heath were active in the field,
directing and encouraging the militia. General Heath was one of the
generals who were authorized to take the command when the minute-men
should be called out. On his way to the scene of action he ordered the
militia of Cambridge to make a barricade of the planks of the bridge,
take post there, and oppose the retreat of the British in that direction
from Boston. At Lexington, when the minute-men were somewhat checked and
scattered by Percy's field-pieces, he labored to form them into military
order. Dr. Warren, about ten o'clock, rode on horseback through
Charlestown. He had received by express intelligence of the events of
the morning, and told the citizens of Charlestown that the news of the
firing was true. Among others he met Dr. Welsh, who said, "Well, they
are gone out." "Yes," replied the doctor, "and we'll be up with them
before night."
Lord Percy had now under his command about eighteen hundred troops of
undoubted bravery and of veteran discipline. He evinced no disposition,
however, to turn upon his assailants and make good the insulting boasts
of his associates. After a short interval of rest and refreshment the
British recommenced their retreat. Then the Provincials renewed their
attack. In West Cambridge the skirmishing again became sharp and bloody
and the troops increased their atrocities. Jason Russell, an invalid and
a noncombatant, was barbarously butchered in his own house. In this town
a mother was killed while nursing her child. Others were driven from
their dwellings, and their dwellings were pillaged. Here the Danvers
company, which marched in advance of the Essex regiment, met the enemy.
Some took post in a walled enclosure, and made a breastwork of bundles
of shingles; others planted themselves behind trees on the side of the
hill west of the meeting-house. The British came along in solid column
on their right, while a large flank guard came up on their left. The
Danvers men were surrounded, and many were killed and wounded. Here
Samuel Whittemore was shot and bayoneted, and left for dead. Here Dr.
Eliphalet Downer, in single combat with a soldier, killed him with a
bayonet. Here a musket-ball struck a pin out of the hair of Dr. Warren's
earlock.
The wanton destruction of life and property that marked the course of
the invaders added revenge to the natural bravery of the minute-men.
"Indignation and outraged humanity struggled on the one hand; veteran
discipline and desperation on the other." The British had many struck in
West Cambridge, and left an officer wounded in the house still standing
at the rail-road depot. The British troops took the road that winds
round Prospect hill. When they entered this part of Charlestown their
situation was critical. The large numbers of the wounded proved a
distressing obstruction to their progress, while they had but few rounds
of ammunition left. Their field-pieces had lost their terror. The main
body of the Provincials hung closely on their rear; a strong force was
advancing upon them from Roxbury, Dorchester, and Milton; while Colonel
Pickering, with the Essex militia, seven hundred strong, threatened to
cut off their retreat to Charlestown.
Near Prospect hill the fire again became sharp and the British again had
recourse to their field-pieces. James Miller, of Charlestown, was killed
here. Along its base, Lord Percy, it is stated, received the hottest
fire he had during his retreat. General Gage, about sunset, might have
beheld his harassed troops, almost on the run, coming down the old
Cambridge road to Charlestown Neck, anxious to get under the protection
of the guns of the ships-of-war. The minute-men closely followed, but,
when they reached the Charlestown Common, General Heath ordered them to
stop the pursuit.
Charlestown, throughout the day, presented a scene of intense excitement
and great confusion. It was known early in the morning that the regulars
were out. Rumors soon arrived of the events that had occurred at
Lexington. The schools were dismissed, and citizens gathered in groups
in the streets. After Dr. Warren rode through the town, and gave the
certain intelligence of the slaughter at Lexington, a large number went
out to the field, and the greater part who remained were women and
children. Hon. James Russell received, in the afternoon, a note from
General Gage to the effect that he had been informed that citizens had
gone out armed to oppose his majesty's troops, and that if a single man
more went out armed the most disagreeable consequences might be
expected. It was next reported, and correctly, that Cambridge bridge had
been taken up, and that hence the regulars would be obliged to return to
Boston through the town. Many then prepared to leave, and every vehicle
was employed to carry away their most valuable effects. Others, however,
still believing the troops would return the way they went out,
determined to remain, and in either event to abide the worst. Just
before sunset the noise of distant firing was heard, and soon the
British troops were seen in the Cambridge road.
The inhabitants then rushed toward the neck. Some crossed Mystic River,
at Penny Ferry. Some ran along the marsh, toward Medford. The troops,
however, soon approached the town, firing as they came along. A lad,
Edward Barber, was killed on the neck. The inhabitants then turned back
into the town panic-stricken.
Word ran through the crowd that "the British were massacring the women
and children!" Some remained in the streets, speechless with terror;
some ran to the clay-pits, back of Breed's Hill, where they passed the
night. The troops, however, offered no injury to the inhabitants. Their
officers directed the women and children, half-distracted with fright,
to go into their houses, and they would be safe, but requested them to
hand out drink to the troops. The main body occupied Bunker Hill, and
formed a line opposite the neck. Additional troops also were sent over
from Boston. The officers flocked to the tavern in the square, where the
cry was for drink. Guards were stationed in various parts of the town.
One was placed at the neck, with orders to permit no one to go out.
Everything, during the night, was quiet. Some of the wounded were
carried over immediately, in the boats of the Somerset, to Boston.
General Pigot had the command in Charlestown the next day, when the
troops all returned to their quarters.
The Americans lost forty-nine killed, thirty-nine wounded, and five
missing. A committee of the Provincial Congress estimated the value of
the property destroyed by the ravages of the troops to be: In Lexington,
£1761 15s. 5d.; in Concord, £274 16s. 7d.; in Cambridge, £1202 8s. 7d.
Many petitions of persons who engaged the enemy on this day are on file.
They lost guns or horses or suffered other damage. The General Court
indemnified such losses.
The British lost seventy-three killed, one hundred seventy-four wounded,
and twenty-six missing--the most of whom were taken prisoners. Of these,
eighteen were officers, ten sergeants, two drummers, and two hundred
forty were rank and file. Lieutenant Hall, wounded at the North bridge,
was taken prisoner on the retreat, and died the next day. His remains
were delivered to General Gage. Lieutenant Gould was wounded at the
bridge, and taken prisoner, and was exchanged, May 28th, for Josiah
Breed, of Lynn. He had a fortune of one thousand nine hundred pounds a
year, and is said to have offered two thousand pounds for his ransom.
The prisoners were treated with great humanity, and General Gage was
notified that his own surgeons, if he desired it, might dress the
wounded.
BATTLE OF BUNKER HILL
A.D. 1775
JOHN BURGOYNE JOHN H. JESSE JAMES GRAHAME
This action, which took place about two months after the
Battle of Lexington, though resulting in the physical defeat
of the Americans, proved for them a moral victory. As at
Lexington and Concord, the colonial soldiers showed that
they were prepared to stand their ground in defence of the
cause which called them to arms, and Bunker Hill became a
watchword of the Revolution. This event also made it clear
that the contest must be fought out. Thenceforth the two
sides in the war were sharply defined.
The immediate occasion of this battle was the necessity, as
seen by the British general, Gage, of driving the Americans
from an eminence commanding Boston. This elevation was one
of several hills on a peninsula just north of the town and
running out into the harbor. It was the intention of the
Americans to seize and fortify Bunker Hill, but for some
unexplained reason they took Breed's Hill, much nearer
Boston, and there the battle was mainly fought. Breed's Hill
is now usually called Bunker Hill, and upon it stands the
Bunker Hill monument.
The following accounts of the battle are all from British
writers; one is that of the English officer General
Burgoyne, who was afterward defeated at Saratoga; another is
by the English historical author Jesse, whose best work
covers the reign of George III. The third is from James
Grahame, a native of Glasgow, Scotland, who died in 1842, of
whose _History of America_ a high authority says: "The
thoroughly American spirit in which it is written prevented
the success of the book in England." The historian Prescott
gave it high praise for accuracy and fairness.
JOHN BURGOYNE
Now ensued one of the greatest scenes of war that can be conceived. If
we look to the height, Howe's corps, ascending the hill in face of
intrenchments, and in a very disadvantageous ground, was much engaged;
to the left the enemy, pouring in fresh troops by thousands over the
land; and in the arm of the sea our ships and floating batteries,
cannonading them. Straight before us a large and noble town[26] in one
great blaze; and the church-steeples, being timber, were great pyramids
of fire above the rest. Behind us the church-steeples and heights of our
own camp covered with spectators of the rest of our army which was
engaged; the hills round the country also covered with spectators; the
enemy all in anxious suspense; the roar of cannon, mortars, and
musketry; the crash of churches, ships upon the stocks, and whole
streets falling together, to fill the ear; the storm of the redoubts,
with the objects above described, to fill the eye; and the reflection
that perhaps a defeat was a final loss to the British empire of America,
to fill the mind, made the whole a picture and a complication of horror
and importance beyond anything that ever came to my lot to witness.
JOHN HENEAGE JESSE
About 11 P.M. on June 16th a detachment of about a thousand men, who had
previously joined solemnly together in prayer, ascended silently and
stealthily a part of the heights known as Bunker Hill, situated within
cannon range of Boston and commanding a view of every part of the town.
This brigade was composed chiefly of husbandmen, who wore no uniform,
and who were armed with fowling-pieces only, unequipped with bayonets.
The person selected to command them on this daring service was one of
the lords of the soil of Massachusetts, William Prescott, of Pepperell,
the colonel of a Middlesex regiment of militia. "For myself," he said to
his men, "I am resolved never to be taken alive." Preceded by two
sergeants bearing dark-lanterns, and accompanied by his friends, Colonel
Gridley and Judge Winthrop, the gallant Prescott, distinguished by his
tall and commanding figure, though simply attired in his ordinary calico
smock-frock, calmly and resolutely led the way to the heights. Those who
followed him were not unworthy of their leader.
It was half-past eleven before the engineers commenced drawing the lines
of the redoubt. As the first sod was being upturned, the clocks of
Boston struck twelve. More than once during the night--which happened to
be a beautifully calm and starry one--Colonel Prescott descended to the
shore, where the sound of the British sentinels walking their rounds,
and their exclamations of "All's well!" as they relieved guard,
continued to satisfy him that they entertained no suspicion of what was
passing above their heads. Before daybreak the Americans had thrown up
an intrenchment, which extended from the Mystic to a redoubt on their
left. The astonishment of Gage, when on the following morning he found
this important site in the hands of the enemy, may be readily conceived.
Obviously not a moment was to be lost in attempting to dislodge them;
and accordingly a detachment, under General Howe, was at once ordered on
this critical service.
In the mean time a heavy cannonade, first of all from the Lively
(sloop-of-war), and afterward from a battery of heavy guns from Copp's
hill, in Boston, was opened upon the Americans. Exposed, however, as
they were to a storm of shot and shell, unaccustomed, as they also were,
to face an enemy's fire, they nevertheless pursued their operations with
the calm courage of veteran soldiers.
Late in the day, indeed, when the scorching sun rose high in the
cloudless heavens, when the continuous labors of so many hours
threatened to prostrate them, and when they waited, but waited in vain,
for provisions and refreshments, the hearts of a few began to fail them,
and the word retreat was suffered to escape from their lips. There was
among them, however, a master spirit, whose cheering words and
chivalrous example never failed to restore confidence. On the
spot--where now a lofty column, overlooking the fair landscape and calm
waters, commemorates the events of that momentous day--was then seen,
conspicuous above the rest, the form of Prescott of Pepperell, in his
calico frock, as he paced the parapet to and fro, instilling resolution
into his followers by the contempt which he manifested for danger, and
amid the hottest of the British fire delivering his orders with the same
serenity as if he had been on parade. "Who is that person?" inquired
Governor Gage of a Massachusetts gentleman, as they stood reconnoitring
the American works from the opposite side of the river Charles. "My
brother-in-law, Colonel Prescott," was the reply. "Will he fight?" asked
Gage. "Ay," said the other, "to the last drop of his blood."
It was after 3 P.M. when General Howe's detachment, consisting of about
two thousand men, landed at Charlestown and formed for the attack.
Prescott's instructions to his men, as the British approached, were
sufficiently brief. "The red-coats," he said, "will never reach the
redoubt if you will but withhold your fire till I give the order, and be
careful not to shoot over their heads." In the mean time, ascending the
hill under the protection of a heavy cannonade, the British infantry had
advanced unmolested to within a few yards of the enemy's works, when
Prescott gave the word "Fire!" So promptly and effectually were his
orders obeyed that nearly the whole front rank of the British fell.
Volley after volley was now opened upon them from behind the
intrenchments, till at length even the bravest began to waver and fall
back; some of them, in spite of the threats and passionate entreaties of
their officers, even retreating to the boats.
Minutes, many minutes apparently, elapsed before the British troops were
rallied and returned to the attack, exposed to the burning rays of the
sun, encumbered with heavy knapsacks containing provisions for three
days, compelled to toil up very disadvantageous ground with grass
reaching to their knees, clambering over rails and hedges, and led
against men who were fighting from behind intrenchments and constantly
receiving reënforcements by hundreds--few soldiers, perhaps, but British
infantry would have been prevailed upon to renew the conflict. Again,
however, they advanced to the charge; again, when within five or six
rods of the redoubt, the same tremendous discharge of musketry was
opened upon them; and again, in spite of many heroic examples of
gallantry set them by their officers, they retreated in the same
disorder as before.
By this time the grenadiers and light infantry had lost three-fourths of
their men; some companies had only eight or nine men left, one or two
had even fewer. When the Americans looked forth from their intrenchments
the ground was literally covered with the wounded and dead. According to
an American who was present, "the dead lay as thick as sheep in a fold."
For a few seconds General Howe was left almost alone. Nearly every
officer of his staff had been either killed or wounded. The Americans,
who have done honorable justice to his gallantry, remarked that,
conspicuous as he stood in his general officer's uniform, it was a
marvel that he escaped unhurt. He retired, but it was with the stern
resolve of a hero to rally his men--to return and vanquish.
The third and last attack made by General Howe upon the enemy's
intrenchments appears to have taken place after a considerably longer
interval than the previous one. This interval was employed by Prescott
in addressing words of confidence and exhortation to his followers, to
which their cheers returned an enthusiastic response. "If we drive them
back once more," he said, "they cannot rally again." General Howe, in
the mean time, by disencumbering his men of their knapsacks, and by
bringing the British artillery to play so as to rake the interior of the
American breastwork, had greatly enhanced his chances of success. Once
more, at the word of command, in steady unbroken line, the British
infantry mounted to the deadly struggle; once more the cheerful voice of
Prescott exhorted his men to reserve their fire till their enemies were
close upon them; once more the same deadly fire was poured down upon the
advancing royalists. Again on their part there was a struggle, a pause,
an indication of wavering; but on this occasion it was only momentary.
Onward and headlong against breastwork and against vastly superior
numbers dashed the British infantry, with a heroic devotion never
surpassed in the annals of chivalry. Almost in a moment of time, in
spite of a second volley as destructive as the first, the ditch was
leaped and the parapet mounted.
In that final charge fell many of the bravest of the brave. Of the
Fifty-second regiment alone, three captains, the moment they stood on
the parapet, were shot down. Still the English infantry continued to
pour forward, flinging themselves among the American militiamen, who met
them with a gallantry equal to their own. The powder of the latter
having by this time become nearly exhausted, they endeavored to force
back their assailants with the butt-ends of their muskets. But the
British bayonets carried all before them. Then it was, when further
resistance was evidently fruitless, and not till then, that the heroic
Prescott gave the order to retire. From the nature of the ground it was
necessarily more a flight than a retreat. Many of the Americans,
leaping over the walls of the parapet, attempted to fight their way
through the British troops; while the majority endeavored to escape by
the narrow entrance to the redoubt. In consequence of the fugitives
being thus huddled together, the slaughter became terrific.
"Nothing," writes a young British officer, who was engaged in the
_mêlée_, "could be more shocking than the carnage that followed the
storming of this work. We tumbled over the dead to get at the living,
who were crowding out of the gap of the redoubt, in order to form under
the defences which they had prepared to cover their retreat." Prescott
was one of the last to quit the scene of slaughter. Although more than
one British bayonet had pierced his clothes, he escaped without a wound.
That night the British intrenched themselves on the heights, lying down
in front of the recent scene of contest. The loss in killed and wounded
was ten hundred fifty-four. According to the American account their loss
was one hundred forty-five killed and three hundred four wounded; of
their six pieces of artillery, they only succeeded in carrying off one.
Such was the result of the famous Battle of Bunker Hill, a contest from
which Great Britain derived little advantage beyond the credit of having
achieved a brilliant passage of arms, but which, on the other hand,
produced the significant effect of manifesting, not only to the
Americans themselves, but to Europe, that the colonists could fight with
a steadiness and courage which ere long might render them capable of
coping with the disciplined troops of the mother-country.
JAMES GRAHAME
About the latter part of May, a great part of the reënforcements ordered
from Great Britain arrived at Boston. Three British generals, Howe,
Burgoyne, and Clinton, whose behavior in the preceding war had gained
them great reputation, arrived about the same time. General Gage, thus
reënforced, prepared for acting with more decision; but before he
proceeded to extremities, he conceived it due to ancient forms to issue
a proclamation, holding forth to the inhabitants the alternative of
peace or war. He therefore offered pardon, in the King's name, to all
who should forthwith lay down their arms and return to their respective
occupations and peaceable duties: excepting only from the benefit of
that pardon "Samuel Adams and John Hancock, whose offences were said to
be of too flagitious a nature to admit of any other consideration than
that of condign punishment." He also proclaimed that not only the
persons above named and excepted, but also all their adherents,
associates, and correspondents, should be deemed guilty of treason and
rebellion, and treated accordingly. By this proclamation it was also
declared "that as the courts of judicature were shut, martial law should
take place till a due course of justice should be reëstablished."
It was supposed that this proclamation was a prelude to hostilities; and
preparations were accordingly made by the Americans. A considerable
height, by the name of Bunker Hill, just at the entrance of the
peninsula of Charlestown, was so situated as to make the possession of
it a matter of great consequence to either of the contending parties.
Orders were therefore issued, by the provincial commanders, that a
detachment of a thousand men should intrench upon this height. By some
mistake, Breed's Hill, high and large like the other, but situated
nearer Boston, was marked out for the intrenchments, instead of Bunker
Hill. The provincials proceeded to Breed's Hill and worked with so much
diligence that between midnight and the dawn of the morning they had
thrown up a small redoubt about eight rods square. They kept such a
profound silence that they were not heard by the British, on board their
vessels, though very near. These having derived their first information
of what was going on from the sight of the works, early completed, began
an incessant firing upon them.
The provincials bore this with firmness, and, though they were only
young soldiers, continued to labor till they had thrown up a small
breastwork extending from the east side of the redoubt to the bottom of
the hill. As this eminence overlooked Boston, General Gage thought it
necessary to drive the provincials from it. About noon, therefore, he
detached Major-General Howe and Brigadier-General Pigot, with the flower
of his army, consisting of four battalions, ten companies of the
grenadiers and ten of light infantry, with a proportion of field
artillery, to effect this business. These troops landed at Moreton's
Point, and formed after landing, but remained in that position till
they were reënforced by a second detachment of light infantry and
grenadier companies, a battalion of land forces, and a battalion of
marines, making in the whole nearly three thousand men. While the troops
who first landed were waiting for this reënforcement, the provincials,
for their further security, pulled up some adjoining post and rail
fences, and set them down in two parallel lines at a small distance from
each other, and filled the space between with hay, which, having been
lately mowed, was found lying on the adjacent ground.
The King's troops formed in two lines, and advanced slowly to give their
artillery time to demolish the American works. While the British were
advancing to the attack they received orders to burn Charlestown. These
were not given because they were fired upon from the houses in that
town, but from the military policy of depriving enemies of a cover in
their approaches. In a short time this ancient town, consisting of about
five hundred buildings, chiefly of wood, was in one great blaze. The
lofty steeple of the meeting-house formed a pyramid of fire above the
rest, and struck the astonished eyes of numerous beholders with a
magnificent but awful spectacle. In Boston the heights of every kind
were covered with citizens, and such of the King's troops as were not on
duty. The hills around the adjacent country, which afforded a safe and
distinct view, were occupied by the inhabitants of the country.
Thousands, both within and without Boston, were anxious spectators of
the bloody scene. Regard for the honor of the British army caused hearts
to beat high in the breasts of many; while others, with keener
sensibilities, sorrowed for the liberties of a great and growing
country. The British moved on slowly, which gave the provincials a
better opportunity for taking aim. The latter, in general, reserved
their fire until their adversaries were within ten or twelve rods, and
then began a furious discharge of small arms. The stream of the American
fire was so incessant, and did so great execution, that the King's
troops retreated with precipitation and disorder. Their officers rallied
them and pushed them forward with their swords; but they returned to the
attack with great reluctance. The Americans again reserved their fire
till their adversaries were near, and then put them a second time to
flight. General Howe and the officers redoubled their exertions, and
were again successful, though the soldiers displayed a great aversion to
going on. By this time the powder of the Americans began so far to fail
that they were not able to keep up the same brisk fire. The British then
brought some cannon to bear, which raked the inside of the breastwork
from end to end. The fire from the ships, batteries, and field artillery
was redoubled; the soldiers in the rear were goaded on by their
officers. The redoubt was attacked on three sides at once. Under these
circumstances a retreat from it was ordered, but the provincials delayed
so long, and made resistance with their discharged muskets as if they
had been clubs, that the King's troops, who had easily mounted the
works, half filled the redoubt before it was given up to them.
While these operations were going on at the breastwork and redoubt, the
British light infantry were attempting to force the left point of the
former, that they might take the American line in flank. Though they
exhibited the most undaunted courage, they met with an opposition which
called for its greatest exertions. The provincials reserved their fire
till their adversaries were near, and then discharged it upon the light
infantry in such an incessant stream, and with so true an aim, as that
it quickly thinned their ranks. The engagement was kept up on both sides
with great resolution. The persevering exertions of the King's troops
could not compel the Americans to retreat till they observed that their
main body had left the hill. This, when begun, exposed them to new
dangers; for it could not be effected but by marching over Charlestown
Neck, every part of which was raked by the shot of the Glasgow
(man-of-war) and of two floating batteries. The incessant fire kept up
across the Neck prevented any considerable reënforcement from joining
their countrymen who were engaged; but the few who fell on their retreat
over the same ground proved that the apprehensions of those provincial
officers, who declined passing over to succor their companies, were
without any solid foundation.
The number of Americans engaged amounted only to fifteen hundred. It was
apprehended that the conquerors would push the advantage they had
gained, and march immediately to American head-quarters at Cambridge;
but they advanced no farther than Bunker Hill. There they threw up
works for their own security. The provincials did the same, on Prospect
Hill, in front of them. Both were guarding against an attack; and both
were in a bad condition to receive one. The loss of the peninsula
depressed the spirits of the Americans; and the great loss of men
produced the same effect on the British. There have been few battles in
modern wars in which, all circumstances considered, there was a greater
destruction of men than in this short engagement.
The loss of the British, as acknowledged by General Gage, amounted to
one thousand fifty-four. Nineteen commissioned officers were killed and
seventy more were wounded. The Battle of Quebec, in 1759, which gave
Great Britain the colony of Canada, was not so destructive to British
officers as this affair of a slight intrenchment, the work only of a few
hours. That the officers suffered so much must be imputed to their being
aimed at. None of the provincials in this engagement were riflemen, but
they were all good marksmen. The whole of their previous military
knowledge had been derived from hunting and the ordinary amusements of
sportsmen. The dexterity which by long habit they had acquired in
hitting beast, birds, and marks, was fatally applied to the destruction
of British officers. From their fall, much confusion was expected. They
were therefore particularly singled out. Most of those who were near the
person of General Howe were either killed or wounded; but the General,
though he greatly exposed himself, was unhurt. The light infantry and
grenadiers lost three-fourths of their men. Of one company not more than
five, and of another not more than fourteen, escaped.
The unexpected resistance of the Americans was such as wiped away the
reproach of cowardice, which had been cast upon them by their enemies in
Britain. The spirited conduct of the British officers merited and
obtained great applause; but the provincials were justly entitled to a
large share of the glory for having made the utmost exertions of their
adversaries necessary to dislodge them from lines which were the work of
only a single night.
The Americans lost five pieces of cannon. Their killed amounted to one
hundred thirty-nine; their wounded and missing, to three hundred
fourteen. Thirty of the former fell into the hands of the conquerors.
They particularly regretted the death of General Warren. To the purest
patriotism and most undaunted bravery he added the virtues of domestic
life, the eloquence of an accomplished orator, and the wisdom of an able
statesman. Only a regard for the liberty of his country induced him to
oppose the measures of Government. He aimed not at a separation from,
but a coalition with, the mother-country.
The burning of Charlestown, though a place of great trade, did not
discourage the provincials. It excited resentment and execration, but
not any disposition to submit. Such was the high-strung state of the
public mind, and so great the indifference of property when put in
competition with liberty, that military conflagrations, though they
distressed and impoverished, had no tendency to subdue, the colonists.
Such means might suffice in the Old World, but were not effectual in the
New, where the war was undertaken, not for a change of masters, but for
securing essential rights.
The action at Breed's Hill, or Bunker Hill, as it has since been
commonly called, produced many and very important consequences. It
taught the British so much respect for the Americans, intrenched behind
works, that their subsequent operations were retarded with a caution
that wasted away a whole campaign to very little purpose. It added to
the confidence the Americans began to have in their own abilities. It
inspired some of the leading members of Congress with such high ideas of
what might be done by militia, or men engaged for a short term of
enlistment, that it was long before they assented to the establishment
of a permanent army.
FOOTNOTES:
[26] Charlestown. A body of American riflemen, posted in the houses,
galled the left line as it marched; therefore, by Howe's orders, the
town was set on fire.
CANADA REMAINS LOYAL TO ENGLAND
MONTGOMERY'S INVASION
A.D. 1775
JOHN McMULLEN
At the outbreak of the Revolutionary War there was a belief,
or at least a hope, among the thirteen rebellious colonies
that Canada would join them and thus enable the entire
continent to present a united front against England. Had she
done so the course of Canadian and perhaps of American
destiny would have been widely changed.
The condition of Canada was different from that of the more
southern colonies, in that it was a conquered country,
guarded by British soldiers. The great majority of the
inhabitants were of French descent; until 1760 they had been
under French rule; and it was hoped that, especially in the
Quebec Province and along the St. Lawrence Valley, the
French _habitants_ would seize eagerly on an opportunity for
revolt. An expedition was therefore planned under Generals
Montgomery and Arnold; and though it failed, so great was
the heroism of the men who attempted it that we may leave
their story to their foes to tell. The following account is
by the standard Canadian historian McMullen.
That Canada was saved to England from this, the first and
most serious of the invasions of her independent neighbors
to the south, was due chiefly to Sir Guy Carleton, the able
general then governing the Province and commanding the
British forces there. It was due also to the French clergy,
who favored British rule and bade their parishioners stand
neutral or even urged them to fight against the invaders.
The American Congress, in 1775, believed the Canadian people to be
favorable to their cause, and resolved to anticipate the British by
striking a decided blow in the North. They accordingly despatched a
force of nearly two thousand men, under Schuyler and Montgomery, to
penetrate into Canada by the Richelieu. After taking the forts along
that river, they were next to possess themselves of Montreal, and then
descend to Quebec, and form a junction there with Colonel Arnold, who
was to proceed up the Kennebec with eleven hundred men and surprise the
capital of Canada if possible.
On September 5th the American army arrived at the Ileaux-Noix, whence
Schuyler and Montgomery scattered a proclamation among the Canadians
stating that they came only against the British, and had no design
whatever on the lives, the properties, or religion of the inhabitants.
General Schuyler being unwell now returned to Albany, and the chief
command devolved on Montgomery, who, having received a reënforcement,
invested Fort St. John on the 17th, and at the same time sent some
troops to attack the fort at Chambly, while Ethan Allan was despatched
with a reconnoitring party toward Montreal. Allan accordingly proceeded
to the St. Lawrence, and being informed that the town was weakly
defended, and believing the inhabitants were favorable to the Americans,
he resolved to capture it by surprise, although his force was under two
hundred men. General Carleton had already arrived at Montreal to make
disposition for the protection of the frontier. Learning on the night of
the 24th that a party of Americans had crossed the river and were
marching on the town, he promptly drew together two hundred fifty of the
local militia, chiefly English and Irish, and with thirty men of the
Twenty-sixth regiment, in addition, prepared for its defence. Allan,
however, instead of proceeding to attack Montreal, becoming intimidated,
took possession of some houses and barns in the neighborhood, where he
was surrounded next day and compelled to surrender after a loss of five
killed and ten wounded. The British lost their commanding officer, Major
Carsden, Alexander Paterson, a merchant of Montreal, and two privates.
Allan and his men were sent prisoners to England, where they were
confined in Pendennis castle.
While these occurrences were transpiring at Montreal, Montgomery was
vigorously pressing forward the siege of Fort St. John, which post was
gallantly defended by Major Preston of the Twenty-sixth regiment. His
conduct was not imitated by Major Stopford, of the Seventh, who
commanded at Chambly, and who surrendered, in a cowardly manner, on two
hundred Americans appearing before the works with two six-pounders. This
was a fortunate event for Montgomery, whose powder was nearly exhausted,
and who now procured a most seasonable supply from the captured fort.
His fire was again renewed, but was bravely replied to by the garrison,
who hoped that General Carleton would advance and raise the siege. This
the latter was earnestly desirous to do, and drew together all the
militia he could collect and the few troops at his disposal for that
purpose, and pushed across the river toward Longueil on one of the last
days of October. General Montgomery had foreseen this movement, and
detached a force, with two field-pieces, to prevent it. This force took
post near the river, and allowed the British to approach within
pistol-shot of the shore, when they opened such a hot fire of musketry
and cannon that General Carleton was compelled to order a retreat on
Montreal. Montgomery duly apprized Major Preston of these occurrences,
and the garrison being now short of provisions and ammunition, and
without any hope of succor, surrendered on October 31st, and marched out
with all the honors of war.
With Fort St. John and Chambly a large portion of the regular troops in
Canada was captured, and the Governor was in no condition to resist the
American army, the main body of which now advanced upon Montreal, while
a strong detachment proceeded to Sorel, to cut off the retreat of the
British toward Quebec. General Carleton, with Brigadier Prescott and one
hundred twenty soldiers, left Montreal, after destroying all the public
stores possible, just as the American army was entering it. At Sorel,
however, their flight was effectually intercepted by an armed vessel and
some floating batteries, and Prescott, finding it impossible to force a
passage, was compelled to surrender. The night before, General Carleton
fortunately eluded the vigilance of the Americans, and passed down the
river in a boat with muffled oars. Montgomery treated the people of
Montreal with great consideration, and gained their good-will by the
affability of his manners and the nobleness and generosity of his
disposition.
While the main body of the American invading force had been completely
successful thus far, Arnold sailed up the Kennebec, and proceeded
through the vast forests lying between it and the St. Lawrence, in the
hope of surprising Quebec. The sufferings of his troops from hunger and
fatigue were of the most severe description. So great were their
necessities that they were obliged to eat dog's flesh, and even the
leather of their cartouch-boxes; still, they pressed on with unflagging
zeal and wonderful endurance, and arrived at Point Levi on November 9th.
But their approach was already known at Quebec. Arnold had enclosed a
letter for Schuyler to a friend in that city, and imprudently intrusted
its delivery to an Indian, who carried it to the Lieutenant-Governor.
The latter immediately began to make defensive preparations, and when
the Americans arrived on the opposite side of the river they found all
the shipping and boats removed, and a surprise out of the question.
On the 12th Colonel M'Clean, who had retreated from Sorel, arrived at
Quebec, with a body of Fraser's Highlanders, who had settled in the
country, were now reëmbodied, and amounted to one hundred fifty men. In
addition to these there were four hundred eighty Canadian militia, five
hundred British, and some regular troops and seamen for the defence of
the town. The Hunter (sloop-of-war) gave the garrison the command of the
river, yet, despite the vigilance exercised by her commander, Arnold
crossed over during the night of the 13th, landed at Wolfe's Cove, and
next morning appeared on the Plains of Abraham, where he gave his men
three cheers, which were promptly responded to by the besieged, who in
addition complimented them with a few discharges of grape-shot, which
compelled them to retire. Finding he could effect nothing against the
city, Arnold retired up the river to Point-aux-Trembles, to await the
arrival of Montgomery.
On the 19th, to the great joy of the garrison, General Carleton arrived
from Montreal, bringing down with him two armed schooners which had been
lying at Three Rivers. One of his first measures was to strengthen the
hands of the loyalists, by ordering those liable to serve in the
militia, and who refused to be enrolled, to quit the city within four
days. By this means several disaffected persons were got rid of, and the
garrison was speedily raised to eighteen hundred men, who had plenty of
provisions for eight months.
On December 1st Montgomery joined Arnold at Point-aux-Trembles, when
their united forces, amounting to about two thousand men, proceeded to
attack Quebec, in the neighborhood of which they arrived on the 4th, and
soon after quartered their men in the houses of the suburbs. Montgomery
now sent a flag to summon the besieged to surrender, but this was fired
upon by order of General Carleton, who refused to hold any intercourse
with the American officers. Highly indignant at this treatment, the
besiegers proceeded to construct their batteries, although the weather
was intensely cold. But their artillery was too light to make any
impression on the fortifications, the fire from which cut their fascines
to pieces and dismounted their guns; so Montgomery determined to carry
the works by escalade. He accordingly assembled his men on December 30th
and made them a very imprudent speech, in which he avowed his resolution
of attacking the city by storm. A deserter carried intelligence of his
intention that very day to General Carleton, who made the necessary
preparations for defence. On the night of the 31st the garrison pickets
were on the alert. Nothing, however, of importance occurred till next
morning, when Captain Fraser, the field officer on duty, on going his
rounds, perceived some suspicious signals at St. John's Gate, and
immediately turned out the guard, when a brisk fire was opened by a body
of the enemy, concealed by a snow-bank. This was a mere feint to draw
off attention from the true points of attack, at the southern and
northern extremities of the Lower Town. It had, however, the effect of
putting the garrison more completely on their guard, and thus was fatal
to the plans of the assailants.
Montgomery led a column of five hundred men toward the southern side of
the town, and halted to reconnoitre at a short distance from the first
battery, near the Près de Ville, defended chiefly by Canadian militia,
with nine seamen to work the guns, the whole under the command of
Captain Barnsfair. The guard were on the alert, and the sailors with
lighted matches waited the order to fire, while the strictest silence
was preserved. Presently the officer who had made the reconnoissance
returned and reported everything still. The Americans now rushed forward
to the attack, when Barnsfair gave the command to fire, and the head of
the assailing column went instantly down under the unexpected and fatal
discharge of guns and musketry. The survivors made a rapid retreat,
leaving thirteen of their dead behind to be shrouded in the falling
snow, among whom was the gallant Montgomery. Of a good family in the
north of Ireland, he had served under Wolfe with credit, married an
American lady, Miss Livingston, after the peace, and had joined the
cause of the United States with great enthusiasm.
At the other end of the Lower Town Arnold at the head of six hundred men
had assaulted the first barrier with great impetuosity, meeting with
little resistance. He was wounded in the first onset and borne to the
rear. But his place was ably supplied by Captain Morgan, who forced the
guard and drove them back to a second barrier, two hundred yards nearer
the centre of the town. Owing to the prompt arrangements, however, of
General Carleton, who soon arrived on the ground, the Americans were
speedily surrounded, driven out of a strong building by the bayonet, and
compelled to surrender to the number of four hundred twenty-six,
including twenty-eight officers. In this action the garrison had ten men
killed and thirteen wounded; the American loss in killed and wounded was
about one hundred.
The besieging force was now reduced to a few hundred men, and they were
at a loss whether to retreat toward home or continue the siege. As they
were in expectation of soon receiving aid they at length determined to
remain in the neighborhood, and elected Arnold as their general, who
contented himself with a simple blockade of the besieged, at a
considerable distance from the works. Carleton would have now gladly
proceeded to attack him, but several of the Canadians outside the city
were disaffected, as well as many persons within the defences, and he
considered, with his motley force, his wisest course was to run no risk,
and wait patiently for the succor which the opening of navigation must
give him.
During the month of February a small reënforcement from Massachusetts
and some troops from Montreal raised Arnold's force to over one thousand
men, and he now resumed the siege, but could make no impression on the
works. His men had already caught the smallpox, and the country people
becoming more and more unwilling to supply provisions, his difficulties
increased rather than diminished. When the Americans first came into the
country the habitants were disposed to sell them what they required at a
fair price, and a few hundred of the latter even joined their army. But
they soon provoked the hostility of the bulk of the people by a want of
respect for their clergy, by compelling them to furnish articles below
the current prices, and by giving them illegal certificates of payment,
which were rejected by the American quartermaster-general. In this way
the Canadians began gradually to take a deeper interest in the struggle
in progress, and to regard the British as their true friends and
protectors, while they came to look upon the Americans as a band of
armed plunderers, who made promises they had no intention of performing,
and refused to pay their just debts.
All the Canadians now required was a proper leader and a system of
organization to cause them to act vigorously against Arnold. Even in the
absence of these requisites they determined to raise the siege, and, led
by a gentleman of the name of Beajeau, a force advanced toward Quebec,
on March 25th, but was defeated by the Americans, and compelled to
retreat. This check, however, did not discourage the Canadians, who now
resolved to surprise a detachment of the enemy at Point Levi. By some
means their design became known, and they were very roughly handled.
The month of April passed without producing any events of importance.
The Americans had meanwhile been reënforced to over two thousand men,
and Major-General Thomas had arrived to take the command. The smallpox
still continued to rage among them; besides they could make no
impression on the fortifications, and the hostile attitude of the
Canadians disheartened them, so nothing was effected. On May 5th Thomas
called a council of war, at which an immediate retreat was determined
on.
On the following morning, to the great joy of the besieged, the Surprise
frigate and a sloop arrived in the harbor, with one hundred seventy men
of the Twenty-ninth regiment and some marines, who were speedily landed.
Now General Carleton at once resolved on offensive operations, and
marched out at noon with one thousand men and a few field-pieces to
attack the Americans. But the latter did not await his approach, and
fled with the utmost precipitation, leaving all their cannon, stores,
ammunition, and even their sick behind. These were treated with the
utmost attention by General Carleton, whose humanity won the esteem of
all his prisoners, who were loud in his praise on returning home. For
his services during the siege the Governor was knighted by his
sovereign.
The Americans retreated as rapidly as possible for a distance of
forty-five miles up the river, but finding they were not pursued they
halted for a few days to rest themselves. They then proceeded in a
distressed condition to Sorel, where they were joined by some
reënforcements, and where, also, their general, Thomas, died of the
smallpox, which still continued to afflict them. He was succeeded in the
chief command by General Sullivan.
Meantime some companies of the Eighth regiment, which were scattered
through the frontier posts on the Lakes, had descended to Ogdensburg.
From thence Captain Forster was detached, on May 11th, with one hundred
twenty-six soldiers and an equal number of Indians, to capture a
stockade at the Cedars, garrisoned by three hundred ninety Americans,
under the command of Colonel Bedell. The latter surrendered on the 19th,
after sustaining only a few hours' fire of musketry, and the following
day one hundred men advancing to his assistance were attacked by the
Indians and a few Canadians. A smart action ensued which lasted for ten
minutes, when the Americans laid down their arms and were marched
prisoners to the fort, where they were with difficulty saved from
massacre.
After providing for the safety of his numerous prisoners, Forster pushed
down the river toward Lachine, but, learning that Arnold was advancing
to attack him with a force treble his own number, he halted and prepared
for action. Placing his men in an advantageous position on the edge of
the river, and spreading the Indians out on his flanks, he made such a
stout defence that the Americans were compelled to retire to St. Anne's.
Forster, encumbered with his prisoners, now proposed a cartel, which
Arnold at once assented to, and an exchange was effected, on May 27th,
for two majors, nine captains, twenty subalterns, and four hundred
forty-three privates. This cartel was broken by Congress, on the ground
that the prisoners had been cruelly used, which was not the case. They
had been treated with all the humanity possible, when the difficulty of
guarding so large a number, with less than three hundred men, is taken
into consideration.
While these events were in progress above Montreal, a large body of
troops had arrived from England, under the command of Major-General
Burgoyne. Brigadier Fraser was at once sent on by the Governor with the
first division to Three Rivers. While the troops still remained on board
their transports off this place, General Thompson advanced with eighteen
hundred men to surprise the town, and would have effected his object had
not one of his Canadian guides escaped and warned the British of his
approach. General Fraser immediately landed his troops, with several
field-pieces, and posted them so advantageously that the Americans were
speedily defeated, their general, his second in command, and five
hundred men made prisoners, while, the retreat of their main body being
cut off, they were compelled to take shelter in a wood full of swamps.
Here they remained in great distress till the following day, when
General Carleton, who had meanwhile come up, humanely drew the guard
from the bridge over the Rivière du Loup, and allowed them to escape
toward Sorel. Finding themselves unable to oppose the force advancing
against them, the American army, under Sullivan, retreated to Crown
Point, whither Arnold also retired from Montreal on June 15th. Thus
terminated the invasion of Canada, which produced no advantage to the
American cause, but on the contrary aroused the hostility of the
inhabitants and drew them closer to Great Britain.
SIGNING OF AMERICAN DECLARATION OF INDEPENDENCE
A.D. 1776
THOMAS JEFFERSON JOHN A. DOYLE
Among historic acts and political deliverances there is none
more weighty in significance and results, none more famous
in the annals of the world, than the American Declaration of
Independence. The document which preserves it to all ages is
"a witness to the world that freedom, resting not on
institutions, but on the necessities of human nature, is no
mere abstract idea, but a vital principle of national life."
At the beginning of 1776 the tide of public opinion in the
colonies was setting strongly toward national independence.
Lexington and Bunker Hill had spoken their message to
America and to the British Government. All the other
colonies had come into line with New England. The earliest
declaration of independence, that of the people of
Mecklenburg County, North Carolina (May, 1775), had preluded
the general proclamation. The second Continental Congress
was at work with growing legislative powers; the New England
forces had been adopted as the Continental Army, with
Washington as commander-in-chief; that army was besieging
the British in Boston; and a movement was in progress
against Canada. In March, 1776, Boston was evacuated. On
June 28th a British attack on Sullivan's Island, off
Charleston, South Carolina, was repulsed by Moultrie. Before
the end of 1775 the Continental Congress had ordered the
building of several ships--the nucleus of the American
navy--and its sea-power was rapidly increased by privateers.
Meanwhile King George III and his minister, Lord North, had
continued their coercive policy and strengthened their war
measures.
Thomas Paine's _Common Sense_, published early in 1776, one
of the most effective popular appeals that ever "went to the
bosoms of a nation," completed the preparation of the public
mind for the great step about to be taken by the Congress.
Jefferson's account of the proceedings day by day, given in
his own _Memoirs_, is the best contemporary record of the
momentous deliberations and decision of this body, assembled
in Independence Hall, Philadelphia. A quarter of a century
before, upon the fillet of the "Liberty Bell," which hung in
the steeple of that Old State House, had been cast the words
of ancient Hebrew Scripture: "Proclaim liberty throughout
all the land, unto all the inhabitants thereof."
Doyle's reflections, as representing an enlightened English
view of the Declaration and the great struggle which it
lifted to its climax, is placed as a suggestive commentary
after the uncolored narrative of the chief author of the
great instrument itself.
THOMAS JEFFERSON
In Congress, Friday, June 7, 1776, the delegates from Virginia moved, in
obedience to instructions from their constituents, that the Congress
should declare that these United Colonies are, and of right ought to be,
free and independent states; that they are absolved from all allegiance
to the British crown, and that all political connection between them and
the state of Great Britain is, and ought to be, totally dissolved; that
measures should be immediately taken for procuring the assistance of
foreign powers, and a confederation be formed to bind the colonies more
closely together.
The House being obliged to attend at that time to some other business,
the proposition was referred to the next day, when the members were
ordered to attend punctually at ten o'clock.
Saturday, June 8th. They proceeded to take it into consideration, and
referred it to a committee of the whole, into which they immediately
resolved themselves, and passed that day and Monday, the 10th, in
debating on the subject.
It was argued by Wilson, Robert R. Livingston, E. Rutledge, Dickinson,
and others--that, though they were friends to the measures themselves,
and saw the impossibility that we should ever again be united with Great
Britain, yet they were against adopting them at this time:
That the conduct we had formerly observed was wise, and proper now, of
deferring to take any capital step till the voice of the people drove us
into it:
That they were our power, and without them our declarations could not be
carried into effect:
That the people of the middle colonies (Maryland, Delaware,
Pennsylvania, the Jerseys, and New York) were not yet ripe for bidding
adieu to British connection, but that they were fast ripening, and, in a
short time, would join in the general voice of America:
That the resolution, entered into by this House on May 15th, for
suppressing the exercise of all powers derived from the Crown, had
shown, by the ferment into which it had thrown these middle colonies,
that they had not yet accommodated their minds to a separation from the
mother-country:
That some of them had expressly forbidden their delegates to consent to
such a declaration, and others had given no instructions, and
consequently no powers to give such consent:
That if the delegates of any particular colony had no power to declare
such colony independent, certain they were the others could not declare
it for them, the colonies being as yet perfectly independent of each
other:
That the Assembly of Pennsylvania was now sitting above stairs, their
convention would sit within a few days, the convention of New York was
now sitting, and those of the Jerseys and Delaware counties would meet
on the Monday following, and it was probable these bodies would take up
the question of Independence, and would declare to their delegates the
voice of their State:
That if such a declaration should now be agreed to, these delegates must
retire, and possibly their colonies might secede from the Union:
That such a secession would weaken us more than could be compensated by
any foreign alliance:
That in the event of such a division, foreign powers would either refuse
to join themselves to our fortunes, or, having us so much in their power
as that desperate declaration would place us, they would insist on terms
proportionately more hard and prejudicial:
That we had little reason to expect an alliance with those to whom alone
as yet we had cast our eyes:
That France and Spain had reason to be jealous of that rising power,
which would one day certainly strip them of all their American
possessions:
That it was more likely they should form a connection with the British
court, who, if they should find themselves unable otherwise to extricate
themselves from their difficulties, would agree to a partition of our
territories, restoring Canada to France, and the Floridas to Spain, to
accomplish for themselves a recovery of these colonies:
That it would not be long before we should receive certain information
of the disposition of the French court, from the agent whom we had sent
to Paris for that purpose:
That if this disposition should be favorable by waiting the event of the
present campaign, which we all hoped would be successful, we should have
reason to expect an alliance on better terms:
That this would in fact work no delay of any effectual aid from such
ally, as, from the advance of the season and distance of our situation,
it was impossible we could receive any assistance during this campaign:
That it was prudent to fix among ourselves the terms on which we should
form alliance, before we declared we would form one at all events:
And that if these were agreed on, and our Declaration of Independence
ready by the time our ambassador should be prepared to sail, it would be
as well as to go into the Declaration at this day.
On the other side, it was urged by J. Adams, Lee, Wythe, and others that
no gentleman had argued against the policy or the right of separation
from Britain, nor had supposed it possible we should ever renew our
connection; that they had only opposed its being now declared:
That the question was not whether, by a Declaration of Independence, we
should make ourselves what we are not; but whether we should declare a
fact which already exists:
That, as to the people or Parliament of England, we had always been
independent of them, their restraints on our trade deriving efficacy
from our acquiescence only, and not from any rights they possessed of
imposing them, and that so far, our connection had been federal only,
and was now dissolved by the commencement of hostilities:
That, as to the King, we had been bound to him by allegiance, but that
this bond was now dissolved by his assent to the last act of Parliament,
by which he declares us out of his protection, and by his levying war on
us, a fact which had long ago proved us out of his protection; it being
a certain position in law, that allegiance and protection are
reciprocal, the one ceasing when the other is withdrawn:
That James the II never declared the people of England out of his
protection, yet his actions proved it, and the Parliament declared it:
No delegates then can be denied, or ever want, a power of declaring an
existing truth:
That the delegates from the Delaware counties having declared their
constituents ready to join, there are only two colonies, Pennsylvania
and Maryland, whose delegates are absolutely tied up, and that these
had, by their instructions, only reserved a right of confirming or
rejecting the measure:
That the instructions from Pennsylvania might be accounted for from the
times in which they were drawn, near a twelvemonth ago, since which the
face of affairs has totally changed:
That within that time it had become apparent that Britain was determined
to accept nothing less than a _carte-blanche_, and that the King's
answer to the lord mayor, aldermen and common-council of London, which
had come to hand four days ago, must have satisfied everyone of this
point:
That the people wait for us to lead the way:
That _they_ are in favor of the measure, though the instructions given
by some of their _representatives_ are not:
That the voice of the representatives is not always consonant with the
voice of the people, and that this is remarkably the case in these
middle colonies:
That the effect of the resolution of May 15th has proved this, which,
raising the murmurs of some in the colonies of Pennsylvania and
Maryland, called forth the opposing voice of the freer part of the
people, and proved them to be the majority even in these colonies:
That the backwardness of these two colonies might be ascribed, partly to
the influence of proprietary power and connections, and partly to their
having not yet been attacked by the enemy:
That these causes were not likely to be soon removed, as there seemed no
probability that the enemy would make either of these the seat of this
summer's war:
That it would be vain to wait either weeks or months for perfect
unanimity, since it was impossible that all men should ever become of
one sentiment on any question:
That the conduct of some colonies, from the beginning of this contest,
had given reason to suspect it was their settled policy to keep in the
rear of the confederacy, that their particular prospect might be better,
even in the worst event:
That, therefore, it was necessary for those colonies who had thrown
themselves forward and hazarded all from the beginning, to come forward
now also, and put all again to their own hazard:
That the history of the Dutch Revolution, of whom three states only
confederated at first, proved that a secession of some colonies would
not be so dangerous as some apprehended:
That a declaration of independence alone could render it consistent with
European delicacy, for European powers to treat with us, or even to
receive an ambassador from us:
That till this they would not receive our vessels into their ports, nor
acknowledge the adjudications of our courts of admirality to be
legitimate in cases of capture of British vessels:
That though France and Spain may be jealous of our rising power, they
must think it will be much more formidable with the addition of Great
Britain; and will therefore see it their interest to prevent a
coalition; but should they refuse, we shall never know whether they will
aid us or not:
That the present campaign may be unsuccessful, and therefore we had
better propose an alliance while our affairs wear a hopeful aspect:
That to wait the event of this campaign will certainly work delay,
because, during the summer, France may assist us effectually, by cutting
off those supplies of provisions from England and Ireland on which the
enemy's armies here are to depend; or by setting in motion the great
power they have collected in the West Indies, and calling our enemy to
the defence of the possessions they have there:
That it would be idle to lose time in settling the terms of alliance,
till we had first determined we would enter into alliance:
That it is necessary to lose no time in opening a trade for our people,
who will want clothes, and will want money too for the payment of taxes:
And that the only misfortune is that we did not enter into alliance with
France six months sooner, as, besides opening her ports for the vent of
our last year's produce, she might have marched an army into Germany,
and prevented the petty princes there from selling their unhappy
subjects to subdue us.
It appearing in the course of these debates that the colonies of New
York, New Jersey, Pennsylvania, Maryland, Delaware, and South Carolina
were not yet matured for falling from the parental stem, but that they
were fast advancing to that state, it was thought most prudent to wait a
while for them, and to postpone the final decision to July 1st; but,
that this might occasion as little delay as possible, a committee was
appointed to prepare a Declaration of Independence. The committee were
John Adams, Dr. Franklin, Roger Sherman, Robert R. Livingston, and
myself. Committees were also appointed, at the same time, to prepare a
plan of confederation for the colonies, and to state the terms proper to
be proposed for foreign alliance.
The committee for drawing the Declaration of Independence desired me to
do it. It was accordingly done, and, being approved by them, I reported
it to the House on Friday, June 28th, when it was read, and ordered to
lie on the table. On Monday, July 1st, the House resolved itself into a
committee of the whole, and resumed the consideration of the original
motion made by the delegates of Virginia, which, being again debated
through the day, was carried in the affirmative by the votes of New
Hampshire, Connecticut, Massachusetts, Rhode Island, New Jersey,
Maryland, Virginia, North Carolina, and Georgia. South Carolina and
Pennsylvania voted against it. Delaware had but two members present, and
they were divided. The delegates of New York declared they were for it
themselves, and were assured their constituents were for it; but that
their instructions having been drawn near a twelvemonth before, when
reconciliation was still the general object, they were enjoined by them
to do nothing which should impede that object. They, therefore, thought
themselves not justifiable in voting on either side, and asked leave to
withdraw from the question; which was given them.
The committee rose and reported their resolution to the House. Mr.
Edward Rutledge, of South Carolina, then requested the determination
might be put off to the next day, as he believed his colleagues, though
they disapproved of the resolution, would then join in it for the sake
of unanimity. The ultimate question, whether the House would agree to
the resolution of the committee, was accordingly postponed to the next
day, when it was again moved, and South Carolina concurred in voting for
it.
In the mean time a third member had come post from the Delaware
counties, and turned the vote of that colony in favor of the resolution.
Members of a different sentiment attending that morning from
Pennsylvania also, her vote was changed, so that the whole twelve
colonies who were authorized to vote at all, gave their voices for it;
and, within a few days, the convention of New York approved of it; and
thus supplied the void occasioned by the withdrawing of her delegates
from the vote.
Congress proceeded the same day to consider the Declaration of
Independence, which had been reported and laid on the table the Friday
preceding, and on Monday referred to a committee of the whole. The
pusillanimous idea that we had friends in England worth keeping terms
with still haunted the minds of many. For this reason, those passages
which conveyed censures on the people of England were struck out, lest
they should give them offence. The clause, too, reprobating the
enslaving the inhabitants of Africa, was struck out in complaisance to
South Carolina and Georgia, who had never attempted to restrain the
importation of slaves, and who, on the contrary, still wished to
continue it.
Our northern brethren also, I believe, felt a little tender under those
censures; for though their people had very few slaves themselves, yet
they had been pretty considerable carriers of them to others. The
debates, having taken up the greater parts of July 2d, 3d, and 4th,
were, on the evening of the last, closed; the Declaration was reported
by the committee, agreed to by the House, and signed by every member
present except Mr. Dickinson.
JOHN ANDREW DOYLE
Before this it had become evident that to defer any longer the formation
of an independent government was to keep up an unnecessary source of
weakness. Already the voice of the nation had protested unmistakably
against the longer continuance of anarchy. The first definite step
toward such a change had been taken in 1775 by New Hampshire. On October
11th their delegates had petitioned Congress to allow them to establish
a government, but Congress, having still hopes of the success of the
petition, had deferred answering their appeal. The majority of Congress
saw at last that independence was only a question of time. An answer was
sent to the Convention of New Hampshire, recommending it to form a
government. Similar advice was sent the next day to South Carolina, and
a little later to Virginia. Yet New Hampshire shrank from so decisive a
step, and coupled the formation of their new government with a studious
expression of their allegiance. Virginia showed a nobler spirit.
In January the convention passed a motion, instructing their delegates
to recommend Congress to throw their ports open to all nations, and thus
to cast off the commercial supremacy of England. But the mere
establishment of independent State governments was not enough. An
imperial government, also independent of England, was essential. To
establish independence without confederation would be only doing half
the work. In the words of Franklin, "We must all hang together, unless
we would all hang separately." About this time Franklin's scheme for a
confederation was laid before Congress. The scheme did not include, but
it evidently implied, independence. Franklin had been throughout a
strenuous advocate of reconciliation, as long as reconciliation was
possible, and his opinion ought to have convinced all that the time for
separation had come. But the timid counsels of his colleague, Dickinson,
overruled the motion, and the scheme of a confederation was not even
formally considered. On February 16th the question of opening the ports
was formally laid before Congress. In the next month measures were taken
which clearly showed that independence was at hand. A private agent was
sent to France by the authority of the committee of secret
correspondence, and the instructions of the commissioners sent to Canada
contained a clause inviting the people of Canada to "set up such a form
of government as will be most likely in their judgment to produce their
happiness." The clause was objected to as implying independence, and
gave rise to a debate, but was ultimately carried. At last, after seven
weeks' deliberation, the Congress resolved to emancipate the colonies
from all commercial restrictions, and on April 6th the ports of America
were thrown open to the world.
On March 27th South Carolina proceeded to construct a government. They
asserted as their principle of action that the good of the people is the
origin and end of all government, and they set forth the misconduct of
the King, the Parliament, and the officers of the English Government. At
the same time they introduced no change into the system of
representation or the qualification of voters. On May 4th the Assembly
of Rhode Island passed an act discharging the inhabitants of the colony
from allegiance to the King, and at the same time authorized its
delegates in Congress to conclude a treaty with any independent power
for the security of the colonies. On May 6th the Assembly of Virginia
met at Williamsburg. After a declaration that all pacific measures were
useless, and that "they had no alternative left but an abject submission
to the will of those overbearing tyrants, or a total separation from the
Crown and Government of Great Britain," they passed two resolutions; the
first empowering their delegates at the convention to propose a
declaration of independence and a confederation of the colonies; the
second appointing a committee to draw up a declaration of rights and a
scheme of government for the colony. On June 12th the Declaration of
Rights was laid before the Assembly, and on the 29th a constitution was
produced.
The Assembly then proceeded to elect a governor. The choice fell on
Patrick Henry. Rightly was he, who had first foreseen independence and
bidden his countrymen look the danger of it in the face, deemed worthy
to be the first to govern the State which he had called into being. All
the colonies except Pennsylvania and Maryland followed the example of
Virginia, and when, on July 1st, the motion for independence was laid
before the Congress, the delegates of nine colonies were pledged to vote
in its favor. The delegates of Pennsylvania and Maryland were divided,
those of South Carolina unanimously opposed independence. The New York
delegates were all in favor of independence, and represented the opinion
of the colony, but could not vote, as their convention had not yet been
duly elected. When the question came forward for decision next day,
Dickinson, who had opposed it on the first day with great earnestness,
stayed away, as did one of his colleagues, and the vote of Pennsylvania
was altered. Another delegate arrived from Delaware, whose vote turned
the scale, and South Carolina, rather than stand alone, withdrew its
opposition. New York alone was unable to vote, and on July 2d, by the
decision of twelve colonies, without one adverse vote, it was resolved
"that these united colonies are, and of right ought to be, free and
independent states; that they are absolved from all allegiance to the
British Crown, and that all political connection between them and the
state of Great Britain is, and ought to be, totally dissolved." Seldom
was the irony of history more strikingly illustrated than when Hancock,
a rebel specially selected for proscription by the English government,
put the question to the vote, and declared the American colonies forever
independent.
Thomas Jefferson, of Virginia, was selected to draw up the Declaration
which had been resolved upon. His pen had already served his country. In
1774 he had published _A Summary View of the Rights of British America_,
setting forth the dangers which menaced the country, and encouraging the
people in defence of their liberties. He had signalized himself in his
own colony by his opposition to slavery. "Wherever he was, there was
found a soul devoted to the cause of liberty, power to defend and
maintain it, and willingness to incur all its hazards."
On July 4th the Declaration was produced. It declared the abstract
principles on which their secession was justified; it then drew up an
indictment against the King, in eighteen heads, setting forth the
various ways in which he had proved himself "a tyrant unfit to be the
ruler of a free people." Finally it declared that the united colonies
were free and independent states; that the connection with Great Britain
was and ought to be totally dissolved, and that as free and independent
states, they had full power to "levy war, conclude peace, contract
alliances, establish commerce, and to do all other acts and things which
independent states may of right do."
Seldom in human events do the facts of history carry their own
explanation so clearly with them. A people who had grown up gradually,
almost unconsciously, under democratic institutions, at last saw those
institutions subverted. To preserve the spirit of them, they changed
their form. We must not be misled into the error of underrating the
importance of the American struggle by any idea of the insignificance of
the issue at stake. We must not suppose that it was, as an earnest and
eloquent writer has called it, "a war for the vindication of the
principle of representative taxation." Its immediate origin, it is true,
involved no vital interest, such as often has been at stake when nations
have risen against their rulers. But "rebellions may fall out on small
occasions; they do not spring from small causes," was said by the first
and wisest of political philosophers. Taxation was, as Burke says, that
by which the colonists felt the pulse of liberty, "and as they found
that beat, they thought themselves sick or sound."
The whole key to the American Revolution lies in two facts; it was a
democratic and a conservative revolution. It was the work of the people,
and its end was to preserve, not to destroy or to construct afresh. The
policy of an early father of New England, "In a revolution burn all, and
build afresh," was far from being that of his descendants. Throughout
the whole War of Independence the colonists had a fixed known end in
view. More than that, they had already within themselves the means for
effecting that end, and making it enduring, as far as what is human can
endure. The future that they proposed to themselves was not independent
of their past: it was a fuller development of it. There was no need for
beginning with the year one, or for throwing aside as worn out anything
that their ancestors had left them. And it was essentially a democratic
revolution. Throughout, the movement came from the people. The very
blunders made by the hesitation and timidity of Congress were the
mistakes of an assembly of delegates, not of representative statesmen.
When the final step was taken, the Congress was not the originator of
it, but was little more than a mouthpiece giving expression to the
declared wishes of the nation.
DEFEAT OF BURGOYNE AT SARATOGA
A.D. 1777
SIR EDWARD SHEPHERD CREASY
Viewed by itself, the victory over Burgoyne might have
little appearance of being one of the decisive battles of
the world, among which Creasy reckons it. That it acquired
such importance was due, as Creasy himself shows, to its
direct consequences, especially its influence upon the
French. It led them to espouse the American cause, and by
their aid the Revolution was brought to a successful ending.
Since the Declaration of Independence the American forces
had met with varying fortunes. They had been defeated in the
Battle of Long Island, August 27, 1776, and at White Plains,
October 28th. Forts Washington and Lee, defences of the
Hudson, were both lost, and the Americans retreated through
New Jersey. By a masterly return movement Washington
retrieved the situation, winning the Battle of Trenton,
December 26, 1776, and that of Princeton, January 3, 1777.
On August 16, 1777, Stark gained the Battle of Bennington,
but within a month (September 11th) Washington was beaten by
Howe on the Brandywine, and the Americans suffered defeat at
Germantown October 4th. In this state of affairs the
movements of Burgoyne, who had invaded New York from Canada,
were watched with deep concern on both sides.
The final operations between the Americans and Burgoyne's
forces included two engagements, which are often spoken of
as the Battles of Saratoga, also as the Battles of
Stillwater or of Bemis' Heights, from the local names.
The first of these actions, that of September 19, 1777, in
which Gates, with Morgan and Arnold under him, commanded the
Americans, was indecisive. Under the same commanders the
Americans (October 7th) won the decisive victory which
Creasy describes. His opening statement shows the modern
English sentiment concerning the American Revolution, and
this feeling finds its correlative in the gradual change of
tone on the part of American writers.
The war which rent away the North American colonies from England is, of
all subjects in history, the most painful for an Englishman to dwell on.
It was commenced and carried on by the British ministry in iniquity and
folly, and it was concluded in disaster and shame. But the contemplation
of it cannot be evaded by the historian, however much it may be
abhorred. Nor can any military event be said to have exercised more
important influence on the future fortunes of mankind than the complete
defeat of Burgoyne's expedition in 1777; a defeat which rescued the
revolted colonists from certain subjection, and which, by inducing the
courts of France and Spain to attack England in their behalf, insured
the independence of the United States, and the formation of that
transatlantic power which not only America, but both Europe and Asia,
now see and feel.
Still, in proceeding to describe this "decisive battle of the world," a
very brief recapitulation of the earlier events of the war may be
sufficient; nor shall I linger unnecessarily on a painful theme.
The five Northern colonies of Massachusetts, Connecticut, Rhode Island,
New Hampshire, and Vermont, usually classed together as the New England
colonies, were the strongholds of the insurrection against the
mother-country. The feeling of resistance was less vehement and general
in the central settlement of New York, and still less so in
Pennsylvania, Maryland, and the other colonies of the South, although
everywhere it was formidably strong.
But it was among the descendants of the stern Puritans that the spirit
of Cromwell and Vane breathed in all its fervor; it was from the New
Englanders that the first armed opposition to the British crown had been
offered; and it was by them that the most stubborn determination to
fight to the last, rather than waive a single right or privilege, had
been displayed. In 1775 they had succeeded in forcing the British troops
to evacuate Boston; and the events of 1776 had made New York--which the
royalists captured in that year--the principal basis of operations for
the armies of the mother-country.
A glance at the map will show that the Hudson River, which falls into
the Atlantic at New York, runs down from the north at the back of the
New England States, forming an angle of about forty-five degrees with
the line of the coast of the Atlantic, along which the New England
States are situate. Northward of the Hudson we see a small chain of
lakes communicating with the Canadian frontier. It is necessary to
attend closely to these geographical points in order to understand the
plan of the operations which the English attempted in 1777, and which
the battle of Saratoga defeated.
The English had a considerable force in Canada, and in 1776 had
completely repulsed an attack which the Americans had made upon that
province. The British ministry resolved to avail themselves, in the next
year, of the advantage which the occupation of Canada gave them, not
merely for the purpose of defence, but for the purpose of striking a
vigorous and crushing blow against the revolted colonies. With this view
the army in Canada was largely reënforced. Seven thousand veteran troops
were sent out from England, with a corps of artillery, abundantly
supplied and led by select and experienced officers. Large quantities of
military stores were also furnished for the equipment of the Canadian
volunteers, who were expected to join the expedition.
It was intended that the force thus collected should march southward by
the line of the Lakes, and thence along the banks of the Hudson River.
The British army from New York--or a large detachment of it--was to make
a simultaneous movement northward, up the line of the Hudson, and the
two expeditions were to unite at Albany, a town on that river. By these
operations, all communication between the Northern colonies and those of
the Centre and South would be cut off. An irresistible force would be
concentrated, so as to crush all further opposition in New England; and
when this was done, it was believed that the other colonies would
speedily submit. The Americans had no troops in the field that seemed
able to baffle these movements.
Their principal army, under Washington, was occupied in watching over
Pennsylvania and the South. At any rate, it was believed that, in order
to oppose the plan intended for the new campaign, the insurgents must
risk a pitched battle, in which the superiority of the royalists in
numbers, in discipline, and in equipment seemed to promise to the latter
a crowning victory. Without question, the plan was ably formed; and had
the success of the execution been equal to the ingenuity of the design,
the reconquest or submission of the thirteen United States must in all
human probability have followed, and the independence which they
proclaimed in 1776 would have been extinguished before it existed a
second year.
No European power had as yet come forward to aid America. It is true
that England was generally regarded with jealousy and ill-will, and was
thought to have acquired, at the Treaty of Paris, a preponderance of
dominion which was perilous to the balance of power; but, though many
were willing to wound, none had yet ventured to strike; and America, if
defeated in 1777, would have been suffered to fall unaided.
Burgoyne had gained celebrity by some bold and dashing exploits in
Portugal during the last war; he was personally as brave an officer as
ever headed British troops, he had considerable skill as a tactician;
and his general intellectual abilities and acquirements were of a high
order. He had several very able and experienced officers under him,
among whom were Major-General Philips and Brigadier-General Frazer. His
regular troops amounted, exclusively of the corps of artillery, to about
seven thousand two hundred men, rank and file. Nearly half of these were
Germans.
He had also an auxiliary force of from two to three thousand Canadians.
He summoned the warriors of several tribes of the red Indians near the
Western Lakes to join his army. Much eloquence was poured forth both in
America and in England in denouncing the use of these savage
auxiliaries. Yet Burgoyne seems to have done no more than Montcalm,
Wolfe, and other French, American, and English generals had done before
him. But, in truth, the lawless ferocity of the Indians, their
unskilfulness in regular action, and the utter impossibility of bringing
them under any discipline made their services of little or no value in
times of difficulty; while the indignation which their outrages inspired
went far to rouse the whole population of the invaded districts into
active hostilities against Burgoyne's force.
Burgoyne assembled his troops and confederates near the River Bouquet,
on the west side of Lake Champlain. He then, on June 21, 1777, gave his
red allies a war-feast, and harangued them on the necessity of
abstaining from their usual cruel practices against unarmed people and
prisoners. At the same time he published a pompous manifesto to the
Americans, in which he threatened the refractory with all the horrors of
war, Indian as well as European.
The army proceeded by water to Crown Point, a fortification which the
Americans held at the northern extremity of the inlet, by which the
water from Lake George is conveyed to Lake Champlain. He landed here
without opposition, but the reduction of Ticonderoga--a fortification
about twelve miles to the south of Crown Point--was a more serious
matter, and was supposed to be the critical part of the expedition.
Ticonderoga commanded the passage along the lakes, and was considered to
be the key to the route which Burgoyne wished to follow. The English had
been repulsed in an attack on it in the war with the French in 1758,
with severe loss. But Burgoyne now invested it with great skill; and the
American general, St. Clair, who had only an ill-equipped army of about
three thousand men, evacuated it on July 5th.
It seems evident that a different course would have caused the
destruction or capture of his whole army, which, weak as it was, was the
chief force then in the field for the protection of the New England
States. When censured by some of his countrymen for abandoning
Ticonderoga, St. Clair truly replied "that he had lost a post, but saved
a province." Burgoyne's troops pursued the retiring Americans, gained
several advantages over them, and took a large part of their artillery
and military stores.
The loss of the British in these engagements was trifling. The army
moved southward along Lake George to Skenesborough, and thence, slowly
and with great difficulty, across a broken country, full of creeks and
marshes, and clogged by the enemy with felled trees and other obstacles,
to Fort Edward, on the Hudson River, the American troops continuing to
retire before them.
Burgoyne reached the left bank of the Hudson River on July 30th.
Hitherto he had overcome every difficulty which the enemy and the nature
of the country had placed in his way. His army was in excellent order
and in the highest spirits, and the peril of the expedition seemed over
when they were once on the bank of the river which was to be the channel
of communication between them and the British army in the South. But
their feelings, and those of the English nation in general, when their
successes were announced, may best be learned from a contemporary
writer. Burke, in the _Annual Register_ for 1777, describes them thus:
"Such was the rapid torrent of success, which swept everything away
before the Northern army in its onset. It is not to be wondered at if
both officers and private men were highly elated with their
good-fortune, and deemed that and their prowess to be irresistible; if
they regarded their enemy with the greatest contempt; considered their
own toils to be nearly at an end; Albany to be already in their hands;
and the reduction of the Northern provinces to be rather a matter of
some time than an arduous task full of difficulty and danger.
"At home the joy and exultation were extreme; not only at court, but
with all those who hoped or wished the unqualified subjugation and
unconditional submission of the colonies. The loss in reputation was
greater to the Americans, and capable of more fatal consequences, than
even that of ground, of posts, of artillery, or of men. All the
contemptuous and most degrading charges which had been made by their
enemies, of their wanting the resolution and abilities of men, even in
their defence of whatever was dear to them, were now repeated and
believed.
"Those who still regarded them as men, and who had not yet lost all
affection for them as brethren; who also retained hopes that a happy
reconciliation upon constitutional principles, without sacrificing the
dignity of the just authority of government on the one side or a
dereliction of the rights of freedmen on the other, was not even now
impossible, notwithstanding their favorable dispositions in general,
could not help feeling upon this occasion that the Americans sunk not a
little in their estimation. It was not difficult to diffuse an opinion
that the war in effect was over, and that any further resistance could
serve only to render the terms of their submission the worse. Such were
some of the immediate effects of the loss of those grand keys of North
America--Ticonderoga and the Lakes."
The astonishment and alarm which these events produced among the
Americans were naturally great; but in the midst of their disasters,
none of the colonists showed any disposition to submit. The local
governments of the New England States, as well as the Congress, acted
with vigor and firmness in their efforts to repel the enemy. General
Gates was sent to take the command of the army at Saratoga; and Arnold,
a favorite leader of the Americans, was despatched by Washington to act
under him, with reënforcements of troops and guns from the main
American army.
Burgoyne's employment of the Indians now produced the worst possible
effects. Though he labored hard to check the atrocities which they were
accustomed to commit, he could not prevent the occurrence of many
barbarous outrages, repugnant both to the feelings of humanity and to
the laws of civilized warfare. The American commanders took care that
the reports of these excesses should be circulated far and wide, well
knowing that they would make the stern New Englanders, not droop, but
rage. Such was their effect; and though, when each man looked upon his
wife, his children, his sisters, or his aged parents, and thought of the
merciless Indian "thirsting for the blood of man, woman, and child," of
"the cannibal savage torturing, murdering, roasting, and eating the
mangled victims of his barbarous battles," might raise terror in the
bravest breasts; this very terror produced a directly contrary effect to
causing submission to the royal army.
It was seen that the few friends of the royal cause, as well as its
enemies, were liable to be the victims of the indiscriminate rage of the
savages; and thus "the inhabitants of the open and frontier countries
had no choice of acting: they had no means of security left but by
abandoning their habitations and taking up arms. Every man saw the
necessity of becoming a temporary soldier, not only for his own
security, but for the protection and defence of those connections which
are dearer than life itself. Thus an army was poured forth by the woods,
mountains, and marches, which in this part were thickly sown with
plantations and villages. The Americans recalled their courage, and,
when their regular army seemed to be entirely wasted, the spirit of the
country produced a much greater and more formidable force."
While resolute recruits, accustomed to the use of fire-arms, and all
partially trained by service in the provincial militias, were thus
flocking to the standard of Gates and Arnold at Saratoga, and while
Burgoyne was engaged at Fort Edward in providing the means of the
further advance of the army through the intricate and hostile country
that still lay before him, two events occurred, in each of which the
British sustained loss and the Americans obtained advantage, the moral
effects of which were even more important than the immediate result of
the encounters. When Burgoyne left Canada, General St. Leger was
detached from that province with a mixed force of about one thousand men
and some light field-pieces across Lake Ontario against Fort Stanwix,
which the Americans held. After capturing this, he was to march along
the Mohawk River to its confluence with the Hudson, between Saratoga and
Albany, where his force and that of Burgoyne's were to unite. But, after
some successes, St. Leger was obliged to retreat, and to abandon his
tents and large quantities of stores to the garrison.
At the very time that General Burgoyne heard of this disaster he
experienced one still more severe in the defeat of Colonel Baum, with a
large detachment of German troops, at Bennington, whither Burgoyne had
sent them for the purpose of capturing some magazines of provisions, of
which the British army stood greatly in need. The Americans, augmented
by continual accessions of strength, succeeded, after many attacks, in
breaking this corps, which fled into the woods, and left its commander
mortally wounded on the field: they then marched against a force of five
hundred grenadiers and light infantry, which was advancing to Colonel
Baum's assistance under Lieutenant-Colonel Breyman, who, after a gallant
resistance, was obliged to retreat on the main army. The British loss in
these two actions exceeded six hundred men; and a party of American
loyalists, on their way to join the army, having attached themselves to
Colonel Baum's corps, were destroyed with it.
Notwithstanding these reverses, which added greatly to the spirit and
numbers of the American forces, Burgoyne determined to advance. It was
impossible any longer to keep up his communications with Canada by way
of the Lakes, so as to supply his army on his southward march; but
having, by unremitting exertions, collected provisions for thirty days,
he crossed the Hudson by means of a bridge of rafts, and, marching a
short distance along its western bank, he encamped on September 14th on
the heights of Saratoga, about sixteen miles from Albany. The Americans
had fallen back from Saratoga, and were now strongly posted near
Stillwater, about half way between Saratoga and Albany, and showed a
determination to recede no farther.
Meanwhile Lord Howe, with the bulk of the British army that had lain at
New York, had sailed away to the Delaware, and there commenced a
campaign against Washington, in which the English general took
Philadelphia, and gained other showy but unprofitable successes. But Sir
Henry Clinton, a brave and skilful officer, was left with a considerable
force at New York, and he undertook the task of moving up the Hudson to
coöperate with Burgoyne. Clinton was obliged for this purpose to wait
for reënforcements which had been promised from England, and these did
not arrive till September. As soon as he received them, Clinton embarked
about three thousand of his men on a flotilla, convoyed by some
ships-of-war under Commander Hotham, and proceeded to force his way up
the river.
The country between Burgoyne's position at Saratoga and that of the
Americans at Stillwater was rugged, and seamed with creeks and
water-courses; but, after great labor in making bridges and temporary
causeways, the British army moved forward. About four miles from
Saratoga, on the afternoon of September 19th, a sharp encounter took
place between part of the English right wing, under Burgoyne himself,
and a strong body of the enemy, under Gates and Arnold. The conflict
lasted till sunset. The British remained masters of the field; but the
loss on each side was nearly equal--from five to six hundred men--and
the spirits of the Americans were greatly raised by having withstood the
best regular troops of the English army.
Burgoyne now halted again, and strengthened his position by field-works
and redoubts; and the Americans also improved their defences. The two
armies remained nearly within cannon-shot of each other for a
considerable time, during which Burgoyne was anxiously looking for
intelligence of the promised expedition from New York, which, according
to the original plan, ought by this time to have been approaching Albany
from the south. At last a messenger from Clinton made his way, with
great difficulty, to Burgoyne's camp, and brought the information that
Clinton was on his way up the Hudson to attack the American forts which
barred the passage up that river to Albany. Burgoyne, in reply, stated
his hopes that the promised coöperation would be speedy and decisive,
and added that, unless he received assistance before October 10th, he
would be obliged to retreat to the Lakes through want of provisions.
The Indians and Canadians now began to desert Burgoyne, while, on the
other hand, Gates' army was continually reënforced by fresh bodies of
the militia. An expeditionary force was detached by the Americans, which
made a bold though unsuccessful attempt to retake Ticonderoga. And
finding the number and spirit of the enemy to increase daily, and his
own stores of provisions to diminish, Burgoyne determined on attacking
the Americans in front of him, and, by dislodging them from their
position, to gain the means of moving upon Albany, or, at least, of
relieving his troops from the straitened position in which they were
cooped up.
Burgoyne's force was now reduced to less than six thousand men. The
right of his camp was on high ground a little to the west of the river;
thence his intrenchments extended along the lower ground to the bank of
the Hudson, their line being nearly at a right angle with the course of
the stream. The lines were fortified in the centre and on the left with
redoubts and field-works. The numerical force of the Americans was now
greater than the British, even in regular troops, and the numbers of the
militia and volunteers which had joined Gates and Arnold were greater
still. The right of the American position--that is to say, the part of
it nearest to the river--was too strong to be assailed with any prospect
of success, and Burgoyne therefore determined to endeavor to force their
left. For this purpose he formed a column of fifteen hundred regular
troops, with two twelve-pounders, two howitzers, and six six-pounders.
He headed this in person, having Generals Philips, Reidesel, and Frazer
under him. The enemy's force immediately in front of his lines was so
strong that he dared not weaken the troops who guarded them by detaching
any more to strengthen his column of attack. The right of the camp was
commanded by Generals Hamilton and Spaight; the left part of it was
committed to the charge of Brigadier Goll.
It was on October 7th that Burgoyne led his column on to the attack; and
on the preceding day, the 6th, Clinton had successfully executed a
brilliant enterprise against the two American forts which barred his
progress up the Hudson. He had captured them both, with severe loss to
the American forces opposed to him; he had destroyed the fleet which the
Americans had been forming on the Hudson, under the protection of their
forts; and the upward river was laid open to his squadron. He was now
only a hundred fifty-six miles distant from Burgoyne, and a detachment
of one thousand seven hundred men actually advanced within forty miles
of Albany. Unfortunately, Burgoyne and Clinton were each ignorant of the
other's movements; but if Burgoyne had won his battle on the 7th, he
must, on advancing, have soon learned the tidings of Clinton's success,
and Clinton would have heard of his.
A junction would soon have been made of the two victorious armies, and
the great objects of the campaign might yet have been accomplished. All
depended on the fortune of the column with which Burgoyne, on the
eventful October 7, 1777, advanced against the American position. There
were brave men, both English and German, in its ranks; and, in
particular, it comprised one of the best bodies of grenadiers in the
British service.
Burgoyne pushed forward some bodies of irregular troops to distract the
enemy's attention, and led his column to within three-quarters of a mile
from the left of Gates' camp, and then deployed his men into line. The
grenadiers under Major Ackland were drawn up on the left, a corps of
Germans in the centre, and the English light infantry and the
Twenty-fourth regiment on the right. But Gates did not wait to be
attacked; and directly the British line was formed and began to advance,
the American general, with admirable skill, caused a strong force to
make a sudden and vehement rush against its left. The grenadiers under
Ackland sustained the charge of superior numbers nobly. But Gates sent
more Americans forward, and in a few minutes the action became general
along the centre, so as to prevent the Germans from sending any help to
the grenadiers.
Burgoyne's right was not yet engaged; but a mass of the enemy were
observed advancing from their extreme left, with the evident intention
of turning the British right and cutting off its retreat. The light
infantry and the Twenty-fourth now fell back, and formed an oblique
second line which enabled them to baffle this manoeuvre, and also to
succor their comrades in the left wing, the gallant grenadiers, who were
overpowered by superior numbers, and, but for this aid, must have been
cut to pieces. Arnold now came up with three American regiments and
attacked the right flanks of the English double line.
Burgoyne's whole force was soon compelled to retreat toward their camp;
the left and centre were in complete disorder; but the light infantry
and the Twenty-fourth checked the fury of the assailants, and the
remains of Burgoyne's column with great difficulty effected their return
to their camp, leaving six of their guns in the possession of the enemy,
and great numbers of killed and wounded on the field; and especially a
large proportion of the artillerymen, who had stood to their guns until
shot down or bayoneted beside them by the advancing Americans.
Burgoyne's column had been defeated, but the action was not yet over.
The English had scarcely entered the camp, when the Americans, pursuing
their success, assaulted it in several places with uncommon fierceness,
rushing to the lines through a severe fire of grape-shot and musketry
with the utmost fury. Arnold especially, who on this day appeared
maddened with the thirst of combat and carnage, urged on the attack
against a part of the intrenchments which was occupied by the light
infantry under Lord Balcarras. But the English received him with vigor
and spirit. The struggle here was obstinate and sanguinary. At length,
as it grew toward evening, Arnold having forced all obstacles, entered
the works with some of the most fearless of his followers. But in this
critical moment of glory and danger, he received a painful wound in the
same leg which had already been injured at the assault on Quebec. To his
bitter regret, he was obliged to be carried back. His party still
continued the attack; but the English also continued their obstinate
resistance and at last night fell, and the assailants withdrew from this
quarter of the British intrenchments.
But in another part the attack had been more successful. A body of the
Americans, under Colonel Brooke, forced their way in through a part of
the intrenchments on the extreme right, which was defended by the German
reserve under Colonel Breyman. The Germans resisted well, and Breyman
died in defence of his post, but the Americans made good the ground
which they had won, and captured baggage, tents, artillery, and a store
of ammunition, which they were greatly in need of. They had, by
establishing themselves on this point, acquired the means of completely
turning the right flank of the British and gaining their rear.
To prevent this calamity, Burgoyne effected during the night a complete
change of position. With great skill he removed his whole army to some
heights near the river, a little northward of the former camp, and he
there drew up his men, expecting to be attacked on the following day.
But Gates was resolved not to risk the certain triumph which his success
had already secured for him. He harassed the English with skirmishes,
but attempted no regular attack. Meanwhile he detached bodies of troops
on both sides of the Hudson to prevent the British from recrossing that
river and to bar their retreat. When night fell it became absolutely
necessary for Burgoyne to retire again, and, accordingly, the troops
were marched through a stormy and rainy night toward Saratoga,
abandoning their sick and wounded, and the greater part of their baggage
to the enemy.
Before the rear-guard quitted the camp, the last sad honors were paid to
the brave General Frazer, who had been mortally wounded on the 7th, and
expired on the following day. The funeral of this gallant soldier is
thus described by the Italian historian Botta:
"Toward midnight the body of General Frazer was buried in the British
camp. His brother-officers assembled sadly round while the funeral
service was read over the remains of their brave comrade, and his body
was committed to the hostile earth. The ceremony, always mournful and
solemn of itself, was rendered even terrible by the sense of recent
losses, of present and future dangers, and of regret for the deceased.
Meanwhile the blaze and roar of the American artillery amid the natural
darkness and stillness of the night came on the senses with startling
awe. The grave had been dug within range of the enemy's batteries, and,
while the service was proceeding, a cannon-ball struck the ground close
to the coffin, and spattered earth over the face of the officiating
chaplain."
Burgoyne now took up his last position on the heights near Saratoga; and
hemmed in by the enemy, who refused any encounter, and baffled in all
his attempts at finding a path of escape, he there lingered until famine
compelled him to capitulate. The fortitude of the British army during
this melancholy period has been justly eulogized by many native
historians, but I prefer quoting the testimony of a foreign writer, as
free from all possibility of partiality. Botta says:
"It exceeds the power of words to describe the pitiable condition to
which the British army was now reduced. The troops were worn down by a
series of toil, privation, sickness, and desperate fighting. They were
abandoned by the Indians and Canadians, and the effective force of the
whole army was now diminished by repeated and heavy losses, which had
principally fallen on the best soldiers and the most distinguished
officers, from ten thousand combatants to less than one-half that
number. Of this remnant little more than three thousand were English.
"In these circumstances, and thus weakened, they were invested by an
army of four times their own numbers whose position extended three parts
of a circle round them, who refused to fight them, as knowing their
weakness, and who, from the nature of the ground, could not be attacked
in any part. In this helpless condition, obliged to be constantly under
arms, while the enemy's cannon played on every part of their camp, and
even the American rifle-balls whistled in many parts of the lines, the
troops of Burgoyne retained their customary firmness, and, while sinking
under a hard necessity, they showed themselves worthy of a better fate.
They could not be reproached with an action or a word which betrayed a
want of temper or of fortitude."
At length October 13th arrived, and as no prospect of assistance
appeared, and the provisions were nearly exhausted, Burgoyne, by the
unanimous advice of a council of war, sent a messenger to the American
camp to treat of a convention.
General Gates in the first instance demanded that the royal army should
surrender prisoners of war. He also proposed that the British should
ground their arms. Burgoyne replied:
"This article is inadmissible in every extremity; sooner than this army
will consent to ground their arms in their encampment they will rush on
the enemy, determined to take no quarter."
After various messages, a convention for the surrender of the army was
settled, which provided that "the troops under General Burgoyne were to
march out of their camp with the honors of war, and the artillery of the
intrenchments, to the verge of the river, where the arms and artillery
were to be left. The arms to be piled by word of command from their own
officers. A free passage was to be granted to the army under
Lieutenant-General Burgoyne to Great Britain, under condition of not
serving again in North America during the present contest."
The articles of capitulation were settled on October 15th, and on that
very evening a messenger arrived from Clinton with an account of his
successes, and with the tidings that part of his force had penetrated as
far as Esopus, within fifty miles of Burgoyne's camp. But it was too
late. The public faith was pledged; and the army was indeed too
debilitated by fatigue and hunger to resist an attack, if made; and
Gates certainly would have made it if the convention had been broken
off. Accordingly, on the 17th, the Convention of Saratoga was carried
into effect. By this convention five thousand seven hundred ninety men
surrendered themselves as prisoners. The sick and wounded left in the
camp when the British retreated to Saratoga, together with the numbers
of the British, German, and Canadian troops who were killed, wounded, or
taken, and who had deserted in the preceding part of the expedition,
were reckoned to be four thousand six hundred eighty-nine.
The British sick and wounded who had fallen into the hands of the
Americans after the battle of the 7th were treated with exemplary
humanity: and when the convention was executed, General Gates showed a
notable delicacy of feeling, which deserves the highest degree of honor.
Every circumstance was avoided which could give the appearance of
triumph. The American troops remained within their lines until the
British had piled their arms; and when this was done, the vanquished
officers and soldiers were received with friendly kindness by their
victors, and their immediate wants were promptly and liberally supplied.
Discussions and disputes afterward arose as to some of the terms of the
convention, and the American Congress refused for a long time to carry
into effect the article which provided for the return of Burgoyne's men
to Europe; but no blame was imputable to General Gates or his army, who
showed themselves to be generous as they had proved themselves to be
brave.
Gates, after the victory, immediately despatched Colonel Wilkinson to
carry the happy tidings to Congress. On being introduced into the hall
he said: "The whole British army has laid down its 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 for their
service."
Honors and rewards were liberally voted by the Congress to their
conquering general and his men; and it would be difficult, says the
Italian historian, to describe the transports of joy which the news of
this event excited among the Americans. They began to flatter themselves
with a still more happy future. No one any longer felt any doubt about
their achieving their independence. All hoped, and with good reason,
that a success of this importance would at length determine France, and
the other European powers that waited for her example, to declare
themselves in favor of America. "There could no longer be any question
respecting the future, since there was no longer the risk of espousing
the cause of a people too feeble to defend themselves."
The truth of this was soon displayed in the conduct of France. When the
news arrived at Paris of the capture of Ticonderoga, and of the
victorious march of Burgoyne toward Albany, events which seemed decisive
in favor of the English, instructions had been immediately despatched to
Nantes 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.
The American commissioners at Paris, in their disgust and despair, had
almost broken off all negotiations with the French Government; and they
even endeavored to open communications with the British Ministry. But
the British Government, elated with the first successes of Burgoyne,
refused to listen to any overtures for accommodation. But when the news
of Saratoga reached Paris the whole scene was changed. Franklin and his
brother-commissioners found all their difficulties with the French
Government vanish. The time seemed to have arrived for the house of
Bourbon to take a full revenge for all its humiliations and losses in
previous wars. In December a treaty was arranged, and formally signed in
the February following, by which France acknowledged _the Independent
United States of America_. This was, of course, tantamount to a
declaration of war with England.
Spain soon followed France; and, before long, Holland took the same
course. Largely aided by French fleets and troops, the Americans
vigorously maintained the war against the armies which England, in spite
of her European foes, continued to send across the Atlantic. But the
struggle was too unequal to be maintained by Great Britain for many
years; and when the treaties of 1783 restored peace to the world, the
independence of the United States was reluctantly recognized by their
ancient parent and recent enemy.
FIRST VICTORY OF THE AMERICAN NAVY
A.D. 1779
ALEXANDER SLIDELL MACKENZIE
American naval officers look back with intensest pride to
Paul Jones, their earliest hero, the founder of those high
traditions which have done so much to raise the navy to its
present standard of efficiency. Decatur, Perry, Farragut,
Dewey, these and a thousand others of their kind, have but
followed the lead of Paul Jones, have learned their deepest
lesson in the thrill that came to each of them in boyhood on
hearing that proud defiance hurled at the ancient mistress
of the seas, "I have not yet begun to fight."
Although much greater sea-battles, in point of numbers of
both ships and men engaged, are recorded in history, yet
this, the first naval engagement by an American vessel, is
counted among the most famous of all on account of its
stubbornness. The child was matched against the parent; an
American vessel against a British, the latter far the
stronger. The combat was mainly between the Bonhomme
Richard, Jones' ship, with forty guns, many of them
unserviceable, and the British ship, Serapis, of superior
armament, as shown below.
John Paul Jones, commonly known as Paul Jones, was born in
Scotland in 1747, the son of John Paul, a gardener. He
emigrated to Virginia, and, assuming the name of Jones,
became first lieutenant (1775) in the American navy. When in
1778 France joined the colonies against England, Jones, who
had already performed several noteworthy exploits, was in
that country. Through the influence of Franklin an old
merchant vessel, the Duc de Duras, was converted into a
ship-of-war and, with four others, placed under the command
of Jones. In honor of Franklin he named the Duras "Poor
Richard," and, in compliment to the French language and
people, she was called the Bonhomme Richard, the French
colloquial equivalent.
With a squadron of five ships, each except his own under a
French commander and three of them with French crews as
well, Jones sailed from L'Orient, France, August 14, 1779.
He passed around the west coast of Ireland and around
Scotland. There was much discontent among the French
officers, and, though four of his ships were still with him
when he sighted the Baltic fleet, Jones could not count on
loyal service, especially from the Alliance, whose captain
had already shown much insubordination.
The memorable fight has never been better described than in
the following plain and direct account of Mackenzie,
himself an officer of the United States navy.
The battle between the Bonhomme and the Serapis is invested with a
heroic interest of the highest stamp. Jones had been cruising off the
mouth of the Humber and along the Yorkshire coast, intercepting the
colliers bound to London, many of which he destroyed (1779). On the
morning of September 23d he fell in with the Alliance.[27] This
rencounter was a real misfortune; as, in the battle which ensued, the
former disobedience and mad vagaries of Landais, her commander, were
about to be converted into absolute treason. The squadron now consisted
of the Richard, the Alliance, the Pallas, and the Vengeance.
About noon Jones despatched his second lieutenant, Henry Lunt, with
fifteen of his best men, to take possession of a brigantine which he had
chased ashore. Soon after, as the squadron was standing to the northward
toward Flamborough Head, with a light breeze from south-southwest,
chasing a ship, which was seen doubling the cape, in opening the view
beyond, they gradually came in sight of a fleet of forty-one sail
running down the coast from the northward, very close in with the land.
On questioning the pilot, the Commodore discovered that this was the
Baltic fleet, with which he had been so anxious to fall in, and that it
was under convoy of the Serapis, a new ship, of an improved
construction, mounting forty-four guns, and the Countess of Scarborough,
of twenty guns.
Signal was immediately made to form the line of battle, which the
Alliance, as usual, disregarded. The Richard crossed her royal yards,
and immediately gave chase to the northward, under all sail, to get
between the enemy and the land. At the same time signal of recall was
made to the pilot of the boat; but she did not return until after the
action. On discovering the American squadron, the headmost ships of the
convoy were seen to haul their wind suddenly and go about so as to
stretch back under the land toward Scarborough and place themselves
under cover of the cruisers; at the same time they fired signal-guns,
let fly their topgallant sheets, and showed every symptom of confusion
and alarm. Soon afterward the Serapis was seen reaching to windward to
get between the convoy and the American ships, which she soon effected.
At four o'clock the English cruisers were in sight from deck. The
Countess of Scarborough was standing out to join the Serapis, which was
lying-to for her, while the convoy continued to run for the fort, in
obedience to the signals displayed from the Serapis, which was also seen
to fire guns. At half-past five the two ships had joined company, when
the Serapis made sail by the wind; at six both vessels tacked, heading
up to the westward, across the bows of the Richard, so as to keep their
position between her and the convoy.
The opposing ships thus continued to approach each other slowly under
the light southwesterly air. The weather was beautifully serene, and the
breeze, being off the land, which was now close on board, produced no
ripple on the water, which lay still and peaceful, offering a fair field
to the combatants about to grapple in such deadly strife. The decks of
the opposing vessels were long since cleared for action, and ample
leisure remained for reflection, as the ships glided toward each other
at a rate but little in accordance with the impatience of the opponents.
From the projecting promontory of Flamborough Head, which was less than
a league distant, thousands of the inhabitants, whom the recent attempt
upon Leith had made aware of the character of the American ships, and
the reckless daring of their leader, looked down upon the scene,
awaiting the result with intense anxiety. The ships also were in sight
from Scarborough, the inhabitants of which thronged the piers. The sun
had already sunk behind the land before the ships were within gun-shot
of each other; but a full harvest-moon rising above the opposite
horizon, lighted the combatants in their search for each other, and
served to reveal the approaching scene to the spectators on the land
with a vague distinctness which rendered it only the more terrible.
We have seen that the Alliance had utterly disregarded the signal to
form the line of battle when the Baltic fleet was first discovered, and
our squadron bore down upon them. She stood for the enemy without
reference to her station, and, greatly out-sailing the other vessels,
was much sooner in a condition to engage. Captain Landais seemed for
once to be actuated by a chivalrous motive and likely to do something to
redeem the guilt of his disobedience. The officers of the Richard were
watching this new instance of eccentricity, for which Landais' past
conduct had not prepared them, with no little surprise; when after
getting near to where the Serapis lay, with her courses hauled up, and
St. George's ensign--the white cross of England--proudly displayed, he
suddenly hauled his wind, leaving the path of honor open to his
commander. While the Pallas stood for the Countess of Scarborough, the
Alliance sought a position in which she could contemplate the double
engagement without risk, as though her commander had been chosen umpire,
instead of being a party interested in the approaching battle. Soon
afterward the Serapis was seen to hoist the red ensign instead of St.
George's, and it was subsequently known that her captain had nailed it
to the flag-staff with his own hand.
About half-past seven the Bonhomme Richard hauled up her courses and
rounded-to on the weather or larboard quarter of the Serapis, and within
pistol-shot, and steered a nearly parallel course, though gradually
edging down upon her. The Serapis now triced up her lower-deck ports,
showing two complete batteries, besides her spar deck, lighted up for
action, and making a most formidable appearance. At this moment Captain
Pearson, her commander, hailed the Bonhomme Richard and demanded, "What
ship is that?" Answer was made, "I can't hear what you say." The hail
was repeated: "What ship is that? Answer immediately, or I shall be
under the necessity of firing into you!" A shot was fired in reply by
the Bonhomme Richard, which was instantly followed by a broadside from
each vessel. Two of the three old eighteen-pounders in the Richard's
gunroom burst at the first fire, spreading around an awful scene of
carnage. Jones immediately gave orders to close the lower-deck ports and
abandon that battery during the rest of the action.
The Richard, having kept her headway and becalmed the sails of the
Serapis, passed across her forefoot, when the Serapis, luffing across
the stern of the Richard, came up in turn on the weather or larboard
quarter; and, after an exchange of several broadsides from the fresh
batteries, which did great damage to the rotten sides of the Richard and
caused her to leak badly, the Serapis likewise becalmed the sails of the
Richard, passed ahead, and soon after bore up and attempted to cross her
forefoot so as to rake her from stem to stern.
Finding, however, that he had not room for the evolution, and that the
Richard would be on board of him, Captain Pearson put his helm a-lee,
which brought the two ships in a line ahead, and, the Serapis having
lost her headway by the attempted evolution, the Richard ran into her
weather or larboard quarter. While in this position, neither ship being
able to use her great guns, Jones attempted to board the Serapis, but
was repulsed, when Captain Pearson hailed him and asked, "Has your ship
struck?" to which he at once returned the immortal answer:
"_I have not yet begun to fight!_"
Jones now backed his topsails, and the sails of the Serapis remaining
full, the two ships separated. Immediately after, Pearson also laid his
topsails back, as he says in his official report, to get square with the
Richard again; Jones at the same instant filled away, which brought the
two ships once more broadside and broadside. As he had already suffered
greatly from the superior force of the Serapis, and from her being more
manageable and a faster sailer than the Richard, which had several times
given her the advantage in position, Jones now determined to lay his
ship athwart the enemy's hawse; he accordingly put his helm up, but,
some of his braces being shot away, his sails had not their full power,
and, the Serapis having sternway, the Richard fell on board of her
farther aft than Jones had intended. The Serapis' jib-boom hung her for
a few minutes, when, carrying away, the two ships swung broadside and
broadside, the muzzles of the guns touching each other. Jones sent Mr.
Stacy, the acting master, to pass up the end of a hawser to lash the two
ships together, and, while he was gone on this service, assisted with
his own hand in making fast the jib-stay of the Serapis to the Richard's
mizzen-mast.
Accident, however, unknown for the moment to either party, more
effectually secured the two vessels together; for, the anchor of the
Serapis having hooked the quarter of the Richard, the two ships lay
closely grappled. In order to escape from this close embrace, and
recover the advantage of his superior sailing and force, Captain Pearson
now let go an anchor, when the two ships tended round to the tide, which
was setting toward Scarborough. The Richard being held by the anchor of
the Serapis, and the yards being entangled fore and aft, they remained
firmly grappled. This happened about half-past eight, the engagement
having already continued an hour.
Meantime the firing had recommenced with fresh fury from the starboard
sides of both vessels. The guns of either ship actually touched the
sides of the other, and, some of them being opposite the ports, the
rammers entered those of the opposite ship when in the act of loading,
and the guns were discharged into the side or into the open decks. The
effect of this cannonade was terrible to both ships, and wherever it
could be kept up in one ship it was silenced in the other. Occasional
skirmishing with pikes and pistols took place through the ports, but
there does not appear to have been any concerted effort to board from
the lower decks of the Serapis, which had the advantage below.
The Richard had already received several eighteen-pound shot between
wind and water, causing her to leak badly; the main battery of
twelve-pounders was silenced; as for the gunroom battery of six
eighteen-pounders, we have seen that two out of the three starboard ones
burst at the first fire, killing most of their crews. During the whole
action but eight shots were fired from this heavy battery, the use of
which was so much favored by the smoothness of the water. The bursting
of these guns, and the destruction of the crew, with the partial blowing
up of the deck above, so early in the action, were discouraging
circumstances, which, with a less resolutely determined commander, might
well have been decisive of the fate of the battle.
Colonel Chamillard, who was stationed on the poop, with a party of
twenty marines, had already been driven from his post, with the loss of
a number of his men. The Alliance kept studiously aloof, and, hovering
about the Pallas and the Countess of Scarborough, until the latter
struck, after half an hour's action, Landais endeavored to get
information as to the force of the Serapis. He now ran down, under easy
sail, to where the Richard and Serapis grappled. At about half-past nine
he ranged up on the larboard quarter of the Richard, of course having
the Richard between him and the Serapis, though the brightness of the
moonlight, the greater height of the Richard, especially about the poop,
and the fact of her being painted entirely black, while the Serapis had
a yellow streak, could have left no doubt as to her identity; moreover,
the Richard displayed three lights at the larboard bow, gangway, and
stern, which was an appointed signal of recognition.
Landais now deliberately fired into the Richard's quarter, killing many
of her men. Standing on, he ranged past her larboard bow, where he
renewed his raking fire, with like fatal effect. To remove the chance of
misconception, many voices cried out that the Alliance was firing into
the wrong ship; still the raking fire continued from her. Captain
Pearson also suffered from this fire, as he states in his report to the
Admiralty, but necessarily in a much less degree than the Richard, which
lay between them. There is ample evidence of Landais having returned
there several times to fire on the Richard, and always on the larboard
side, or opposite one to that on which the Richard was grappled with the
Serapis.
While the fire of the Serapis was continued without intermission from
the whole of her lower-deck battery, the only guns that were still fired
from the Richard were two nine-pounders on the quarter-deck, commanded
by Mr. Mease, the purser. This officer having received a dangerous wound
in the head, Jones took his place, and, having collected a few men,
succeeded in shifting over one of the larboard guns; so that three guns
were now kept playing on the e
Showing first 200,000 characters. Full text: gutenberg.org/ebooks/32690