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Title: The Campaign of Trenton 1776-77
Author: Drake, Samuel Adams, 1833-1905
Language: English
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Copyright Status: Not copyrighted in the United States. If you live elsewhere check the laws of your country before downloading this ebook. See comments about copyright issues at end of book.

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[Illustration: _East View of_ Hell Gate, _in the Province of_ New York.

_W A Williams Del. 1725_

_1. Hoorns Hook._ _3. Hancock's Rock._ _5. Morrisena._ _7. Pinfold's
Place._ _9. The Pot._ _11. The Frying Pan._

_2. The Gridiron._ _4. The Mill Rock._ _6. Bahanna's Island._ _8.
Hallet's Point._ _10. The Hogs back._]

  Decisive Events in American History







_All rights reserved_

Rockwell and Churchill


        PRELUDE                                  7

     I--NEW YORK THE SEAT OF WAR                11

    II--PLANS FOR DEFENCE                       19

   III--LONG ISLAND TAKEN                       26

    IV--NEW YORK EVACUATED                      33

     V--THE SITUATION REVIEWED                  43


   VII--LEE'S MARCH AND CAPTURE                 59

  VIII--THE OUTLOOK                             68

    IX--THE MARCH TO TRENTON                    79

     X--TRENTON                                 89


   XII--AFTER PRINCETON                        108


Seldom, in the annals of war, has a single campaign witnessed such a
remarkable series of reverses as did that which began at Boston in
March, 1776, and ended at Morristown in January, 1777. Only by
successive defeats did our home-made generals and our rustic soldiery
learn their costly lesson that war is not a game of chance, or mere
masses of men an army.

Though costly, this sort of discipline, this education, gradually led to
a closer equality between the combatants, as year after year they faced
and fought each other. When the lesson was well learned our generals
began to win battles, and our soldiers to fight with a confidence
altogether new to them. In vain do we look for any other explanation of
the sudden stiffening up of the backbone of the Revolutionary army, or
of the equally sudden restoration of an apparently dead and buried cause
after even its most devoted followers had given up all as lost. As with
expiring breath that little band of hunted fugitives, miserable remnant
of an army of 30,000 men, turning suddenly upon its victorious pursuers,
dealt it blow after blow, the sun which seemed setting in darkness,
again rose with new splendor upon the fortunes of these infant States.

Certainly the military, political, and moral effects of this brilliant
finish to what had been a losing campaign, in which almost each
succeeding day ushered in some new misfortune, were prodigious. But
neither the importance nor the urgency of this masterly counter-stroke
to the American cause can be at all appreciated, or even properly
understood, unless what had gone before, what in fact had produced a
crisis so dark and threatening, is brought fully into light. Washington
himself says the act was prompted by a dire necessity. Coming from him,
these words are full of meaning. We realize that the fate of the
Revolution was staked upon this one last throw. If we would take the
full measure of these words of his, spoken in the fullest conviction of
their being final words, we must again go over the whole field, strewed
with dead hopes, littered with exploded reputations, cumbered with
cast-off traditions, over which the patriot army marched to its supreme
trial out into the broad pathway which led to final success.

The campaign of 1776 is, therefore, far too instructive to be studied
merely with reference to its crowning and concluding feature. In
considering it the mind is irresistibly impelled toward one central,
statuesque figure, rising high above the varying fortunes of the hour,
like the Statue of Liberty out of the crash and roar of the surrounding

Nowhere, we think, does Washington appear to such advantage as during
this truly eventful campaign. Though sometimes troubled in spirit, he is
always unshaken. Though his army was a miserable wreck, driven about at
the will of the enemy, Washington was ever the rallying-point for the
handful of officers and men who still surrounded him. If the cause was
doomed to shipwreck, we feel that he would be the last to leave the

His letters, written at this trying period, are characterized by that
same even tone, as they disclose in more prosperous times. He does not
dare to be hopeful, yet he will not give up beaten. There is an
atmosphere of stern, though dignified determination about him, at this
trying hour, which, in a man of his admirable equipoise, is a thing for
an enemy to beware of. In a word, Washington driven into a corner was
doubly dangerous. And it is evident that his mind, roused to unwonted
activity by the gravity of the crisis, the knowledge that all eyes
turned to him, sought only for the opportune moment to show forth its
full powers, and by a conception of genius dominate the storm of
disaster around him.

Washington never claimed to be a man of destiny. He never had any
nicknames among his soldiers. Napoleon was the "Little Corporal,"
"Marlborough" "Corporal John," Wellington the "Iron Duke," Grant the
"Old Man," but there seems to have been something about the personality
of Washington that forbade any thought of familiarity, even on the part
of his trusty veterans. Yet their faith in him was such that, as
Wellington once said of his Peninsular army, they would have gone
anywhere with him, and he could have done anything with them.



[Sidenote: New views of the war.]

Upon finding that what had at first seemed only a local rebellion was
spreading like wildfire throughout the length and breadth of the
colonies, that bloodshed had united the people as one man, and that
these people were everywhere getting ready for a most determined
resistance, the British ministry awoke to the necessity of dealing with
the revolt, in this its newer and more dangerous aspect, as a fact to be
faced accordingly, and its military measures were, therefore, no longer
directed to New England exclusively, but to the suppression of the
rebellion as a whole. For this purpose New York was very judiciously
chosen as the true base of operations.[1]

In the colonies, the news of great preparations then making in England
to carry out this policy, inevitably led up to the same conclusions, but
as the siege of Boston had not yet drawn to a close, very little could
be done by way of making ready to meet this new and dangerous emergency.

We must now first look at the ways and means.

[Sidenote: The new Continental Army.]

A new army had been enlisted in the trenches before Boston to take the
place of that first one, whose term of service expired with the new
year, 1776. On paper it consisted of twenty-eight battalions, with an
aggregate of 20,372 officers and men. By the actual returns, made up
shortly before the army marched for New York, there were 13,145 men of
all arms then enrolled, of whom not more than 9,500 were reported as fit
for duty. These were all Continentals,[2] as the regular troops were
then called, to distinguish them from the militia.

[Sidenote: It marches to New York.]

Immediately upon the evacuation of Boston by the British (March 17,
1776), the army marched by divisions to New York, the last brigade, with
the commander-in-chief, leaving Cambridge on April 4.[3] This move
distinctly foreshadows the general opinion that the seat of war was
about to be transferred to New York and its environs.

There is no need to discuss the general proposition, so quickly accepted
by both belligerents, as regards the strategic value of New York for
combined operations by land and sea. Hence the Americans were naturally
unwilling to abandon it to the enemy. A successful defence was really
beyond their abilities, however, against such a powerful fleet as was
now coming to attack them, because this fleet could not be prevented
from forcing its way into the upper bay without strong fortifications at
the Narrows to stop it, and these the Americans did not have. Once in
possession of the navigable waters, the enemy could cut off
communication in every direction, as well as choose his own point of
attack. Afraid, however, of the moral effect of giving up the city
without a struggle, the Americans were led into the fatal error of
squandering their resources upon a defence which could end only in one
way, instead of holding the royal army besieged, as had been so
successfully done at Boston.

Having arrived at New York, Washington's force was increased by the two
or three thousand men who had been hastily summoned for its defence,[4]
and who were then busily employed in throwing up works at various
points, under the direction of the engineers.

[Sidenote: Make-up of the army.]

Now, it is usual to call such a large body of raw recruits, badly armed,
and without discipline, an army, in the same breath as a well armed and
thoroughly disciplined body. This one had done good service behind
entrenchments, and in some minor operations at Boston had shown itself
possessed of the best material, but the situation was now to be wholly
reversed, the besiegers were to become the besieged, their mistakes were
to be turned against them, the experiments of inexperience were to be
tested at the risk of total failure, and the _morale_ severely tried by
the grumbling and discontent arising for the most part from laxity of
discipline, but somewhat so, too, from the wretched administration of
the various civil departments of the army.[5] The officers did not know
how to instruct their men, and the men could not be made to take proper
care of themselves. In consequence of this state of things, inseparable
perhaps from the existing conditions, General Heath tells us that by the
first week of August the number of sick amounted to near 10,000 men, who
were to be met with lying "in almost every barn, stable, shed, and even
under the fences and bushes," about the camps. This primary element of
disintegration is always one of the worst possible to deal with in an
army of citizen soldiers, and the present case proved no exception.

Except a troop of Connecticut light-horse, who had been curtly and
imprudently dismissed because they showed sufficient _esprit de corps_
to demur against doing guard duty as infantry, and whose absence was
only too soon to be dearly atoned for, there was no cavalry, not even
for patrols, outposts, or vedettes. These being thus of necessity drawn
from the infantry, it was usual to see them come back into camp with the
enemy close at their heels, instead of giving the alarm in season to get
the troops under arms.

As for the infantry, it was truly a motley assemblage. A few of the
regiments, raised in the cities, were tolerably well armed and
equipped, and some few were in uniform. But in general they wore the
same homespun in which they had left their homes, even to the field
officers, who were only distinguished by their red cockades. In few
regiments were the arms all of one kind, not a few had only a sprinkling
of bayonets, while some companies, whom it had been found impracticable
to furnish with fire-arms at the home rendezvous, carried the
old-fashioned pikes of by-gone days. Among the good, bad, and
indifferent, Washington had had two thousand militia poured in upon him,
without any arms whatever. But these men could use pick and spade.

The single regiment of artillery this "rabble army," as Knox calls it,
could boast was unquestionably its most reliable arm. Under Knox's able
direction it was getting into fairly good shape, though the guns were of
very light metal. In the early conflicts around New York it was rather
too lavishly used, and suffered accordingly, but its efficiency was so
marked as to draw forth the admission from a British officer of rank
that the rebel artillery officers were at least equal to their own.

These plain facts speak for themselves. If radical defects of
organization lay behind them, it was not the fault of Washington or the
army, but is rather attributable to the want of any settled policy or
firm grasp of the situation on the part of the Congress.

Washington had no illusions either with regard to himself or his
soldiers. His letters of this date prove this. He was as well aware of
his own shortcomings as a general, as of those of his men as soldiers.
There could, perhaps, be no greater proof of the solidity of his
judgment than this capacity to estimate himself correctly, free from all
the prickings of personal vanity or popular praise. With reference to
the army he probably thought that if raw militia would fight so well
behind breastworks at Bunker Hill, they could be depended upon to do so
elsewhere, under the same conditions. His idea, therefore, was to fight
only in intrenched positions, and this was the general plan of campaign
for 1776.[6]


[1] As will be seen farther on, New England had no strategic value in
this relation.

[2] Continentals. This term, for want of a better, arose from the
practice of speaking of the colonies, as a whole, as the Continent, to
distinguish them from this or that one, separately.

[3] The last brigade to march at this time is meant. As a matter of
fact one brigade was left at Boston, as a guard against accidents. Later
on it joined Washington.

[4] General Lee had been sent to New York as early as January. He took
military possession of the city, with militia furnished by Connecticut.

[5] In a private letter General Knox indignantly styles it "this rabble

[6] "Being fully persuaded that it would be presumption to draw out our
young troops into open ground against their superiors, both in numbers
and discipline, I have never spared the spade and pickaxe."--_Letters._



[Sidenote: Troops sent to Canada.]

Washington's army had no sooner reached the Hudson than ten of the best
battalions[1] were hurried off to Albany, if possible, to retrieve the
disasters which had recently overwhelmed the army of Canada, where three
generals, two of whom, Montgomery and Thomas, were of the highest
promise, with upwards of 5,000 men, had been lost. The departure of
these seasoned troops made a gap not easily filled, and should not be
lost sight of in reckoning the effectiveness of what were left.

[Sidenote: Strength of the army.]

This large depletion was, however, more than made good, in numbers at
least, by the reinforcements now arriving from the middle colonies, who,
with troops forming the garrison of the city, presently raised the whole
force under Washington's orders[2] to a much larger number than were
ever assembled in one body again. A very large proportion, however,
were militiamen, called out for a few weeks only, who indeed served to
swell the ranks, without adding much real strength to the army.

[Sidenote: Plans for defence.]

It being fully decided upon that New York should be held, two entirely
distinct sets of measures were found indispensable. First the city was
commanded by Brooklyn Heights, rising at short cannon-shot across the
East River. These heights were now being strongly fortified on the
water-side against the enemy's fleet, and on the land-side against a
possible attack by his land forces.[3]

[Sidenote: New York in 1776.]

The second measure looked to defending the city from an attack in the
rear. At this time New York City occupied only a very small section of
the southern part of the island which it has since outgrown. A few farms
and country seats stretched up beyond Harlem, but the major part of the
island was to the city below as the country to the town, retaining all
its natural features of hill and dale unimpaired. At this time, too, the
only exit from the island was by way of King's Bridge,[4] twelve miles
above the city, where the great roads to Albany and New England turned
off, the one to the north, the other to the east, making this passage
fully as important in a military sense, as was the heavy drawbridge
thrown across the moat of some ancient castle.

[Sidenote: Fort Washington.]

Fort Washington[5] was, therefore, built on a commanding height two and
a half miles below King's Bridge, with outworks covering the approaches
to the bridge, either by the country roads coming in from the north or
from Harlem River at the east. These works were never finished, but even
if they had been they could not solve the problem of a successful
defence, because it lay always in the power of the strongest army to cut
off all communication with the country beyond--and that means the
passing in of reënforcements or supplies--by merely throwing itself
across the roads just referred to. This done, the army in New York must
either be shut up in the island, or come out and fight, provided the
enemy had not already put it out of their power to do so by promptly
seizing King's Bridge. And in that case there was no escape except by
water, under fire of the enemy's ships of war.

One watchful eye, therefore, had to be kept constantly to the front,
and another to the rear, between positions lying twelve to thirteen
miles apart, and separated by a wide and deep river.

It thus appears that the defence of New York was a much more formidable
task than had, at first, been supposed, and that an army of 40,000 men
was none too large for the purpose, especially as it was wholly
impracticable to reënforce King's Bridge from Brooklyn, or _vice versa_.
But from one or another cause the army had fallen below 25,000
effectives by midsummer, counting also the militia, who formed a
floating and most uncertain constituent of it. For the present,
therefore, King's Bridge was held as an outpost, or until the enemy's
plan of attack should be clearly developed; for whether Howe would first
assail the works at Brooklyn, Bunker Hill fashion, or land his troops
beyond King's Bridge, bringing them around by way of Long Island Sound,
were questions most anxiously debated in the American camp.

However, the belief in a successful defence was much encouraged by the
recent crushing defeat that the British fleet had met with in
attempting to pass the American batteries at Charleston. Thrice welcome
after the disasters of the unlucky Canada campaign, this success tended
greatly to stiffen the backbone of the army, in the face of the steady
and ominous accumulation of the British land and naval forces in the
lower bay. Then again, the Declaration of Independence, read to every
brigade in the army (July 9), was received with much enthusiasm. Now,
for the first time since hostilities began, officers and men knew
exactly what they were fighting for. There was at least an end to
suspense, a term to all talk of compromise, and that was much.

[Sidenote: The British army.]

Thus matters stood in the American camps, when the British army that had
been driven from Boston, heavily reënforced from Europe, and by calling
in detachments from South Carolina, Florida, and the West Indies, so
bringing the whole force in round numbers up to 30,000 men,[6] cast
anchor in the lower bay. Never before had such an armament been seen in
American waters. Backed by this imposing display of force, royal
commissioners had come to tender the olive branch, as it were, on the
point of the bayonet. They were told, in effect, that those who have
committed no crime want no pardon. Washington was next approached. As
the representative soldier of the new nation, he refused to be addressed
except by the title it had conferred upon him. The etiquette of the
contest must be asserted in his person. Failing to find any common
ground, upon which negotiations could proceed, resort was had to the
bayonet again.


[1] These were Poor's, Patterson's, Greaton's, and Bond's Massachusetts
regiments on April 21, two New Jersey, two Pennsylvania, and two New
Hampshire battalions on the 26th. See _Burgoyne's Invasion_ of this
series for an account of the Canada campaign.

[2] The numbers are estimated by General Heath (_Memoirs_, p. 51) as
high as 40,000. He, however, deducts 10,000 for the sick, present. They
were published long after any reason for exaggeration existed.

[3] The Brooklyn lines ran from Wallabout Bay (Navy Yard) on the left,
to Gowanus Creek on the right, making a circuit of a mile and a half.
All are now in the heart of the city.

[4] King's Bridge was so named for William III., of England. It crosses
Spuyten Duyvil Creek. The bridge at Morrisania was not built until 1796.

[5] Fort Washington stood at the present 183d street. Besides defending
the approaches from King's Bridge, it also obstructed the passage of the
enemy's ships up the Hudson, at its narrowest point below the Highlands.
At the same time Fort Lee, first called Fort Constitution, was built on
the brow of the lofty Palisades, opposite, and a number of pontoons
filled with stones were sunk in the river between. The enemy's ships ran
the blockade, however, with impunity.

[6] The British regiments serving with Howe were the Fourth, Fifth,
Sixth, Tenth, Fourteenth, Fifteenth, Sixteenth, Seventeenth,
Twenty-second, Twenty-third, Twenty-seventh, Twenty-eighth,
Thirty-third, Thirty-fifth, Thirty-seventh, Thirty-eighth, Fortieth,
Forty-second, Forty-third, Forty-fourth, Forty-fifth, Forty-sixth,
Forty-ninth, Fifty-second, Fifty-fourth, Fifty-fifth, Fifty-seventh,
Sixty-third, Sixty-fourth, and Seventy-first, or thirty battalions with
an aggregate of 24,513 officers and men. To these should be added 8,000
Hessians hired for the war, bringing the army up to 32,500 soldiers.
Twenty-five per cent. would be a liberal deduction for the sick,
camp-guards, orderlies, etc. The navy was equally powerful in its way,
though it did little service here. Large as it was, this army was
virtually destroyed by continued attrition.



[Sidenote: British move to L. Island.]

Up to August 22, the British army made no move from its camps at Staten
Island. On their part, the Americans could only watch and wait. On this
day, however, active operations began with the landing of Howe's troops,
in great force, on the Long Island shore, opposite. This force
immediately spread itself out through the neighboring villages from
Gravesend, to Flatbush and Flatlands, driving the American skirmishers
before them into a range of wooded hills,[1] which formed their outer
line of defence. Howe had determined to attack in front, clearing the
way as he went.

[Sidenote: Plan of attack.]

As the enemy would have to force his way across these hills, before he
could reach the American intrenched lines around Brooklyn, all the roads
leading over them were strongly guarded, except out at the extreme
left, beyond Bedford village, where only a patrol was posted.[2] This
fatal oversight, of which Howe was well informed, suggested the British
plan of attack, which was quickly matured and successfully carried out.
It included a demonstration on the American left, to draw attention to
that point, while another corps was turning the right, at its unguarded

A third column was held in readiness to move upon the American centre
from Flatbush, just as soon as the other attacks were well in progress.
When the flanking corps was in position, these demonstrations were to be
turned into real attacks, which, if successful, would throw the
Americans back upon the flanking column, which, in its turn, would cut
off their retreat to their intrenchments.

This clever combination, showing a perfect knowledge of the ground,
worked exactly as planned.

By making a night march, the turning column got quite around the
American flank and rear unperceived, and on the morning of the 27th was
in position, near Bedford, at an early hour, waiting for the
signal-guns to announce the beginning of the battle at the British left.

[Illustration: BATTLE OF LONG ISLAND.]

[Sidenote: Battle of Long Island.]

Both columns then advanced to the attack. Being strongly posted, and
well commanded, the Americans made an obstinate resistance and did hold
the enemy in check for some hours at one end of the line, only to find
themselves cut off by the hurried retreat of all the troops posted at
the passes on their left; for as soon as the firing there showed that
the turning column had come up in their rear, these troops, with great
difficulty, fought their way back to the Brooklyn lines, leaving three
generals and upwards of 1,000 men in the enemy's hands.

The resistance met with by the enemy's turning corps may be guessed from
what an officer[3] who took part has to say of it. "We have had," he
goes on to relate, "what some call a battle, but if it deserves that
name it was the pleasantest I ever heard of, as we had not received more
than a dozen shots from the enemy, when they ran away with the utmost

[Sidenote: Washington re-enforces.]

Though not in personal command when the action began, Washington crossed
over to Brooklyn in time to see his broken and dispirited battalions
come streaming back into their works. Fearing the worst, he had called
down two of his best regiments (Shee's and Magaw's) from Harlem
Heights, and Glover's from the city, to reënforce the troops then
engaged on Long Island, but as has already been pointed out, reënforcing
in this manner was out of the question. By making a rapid march, the
Harlem troops reached the ferry in the afternoon, after firing had
ceased. They were, however, ferried across the next morning.

[Sidenote: 28th and 29th.]

These movements would indicate a resolution to hold the Brooklyn lines
at all hazards, and were so regarded, but during the two days subsequent
to the battle, while the enemy was closing in upon him, Washington
changed his mind, preparations were quietly made to withdraw the troops,
while still keeping up a bold front to the enemy, and on the night of
the 29th the army repassed the East River without accident or

Having thus cleared Long Island, the British extended themselves along
the East River as far as Newtown, that river thus dividing the hostile
camps throughout its whole extent. And though New York now lay quite at
his mercy, Howe refrained from cannonading it, for the same reason as
Washington did from shelling Boston; namely, that of securing the city
intact a little later.

In spite of this brilliant opening of the campaign, and outside of the
noisy subalterns who were making their _début_ in war, it was felt that
the British army, fresh, numerous, and splendidly equipped, had
acquitted itself most ingloriously in permitting the Americans to make
their retreat from the island as they had, when the event of an assault
must probably have been most disastrous to them.

[Sidenote: Losses so far.]

On the other side defeat had seriously affected the _morale_ of the
Americans. Fifteen hundred men had been lost on Long Island. A great
many more were now being lost through desertion. In Washington's own
words the unruly militia left him by companies, half regiments or whole
regiments, leaving the infection of their evil example to work its will
among the well-disposed.

[Sidenote: New York to be held.]

Although the defence of New York had thus broken down at its vital
point, a majority of generals favored still holding the city. To this
end Washington now divided his forces, leaving 4,000 in the city,
posting 6,500 at Harlem Heights, and 12,000 at Fort Washington and
King's Bridge. Though furnished by a general officer,[4] these figures
really include the sick, who were estimated at nearly 10,000, as well as
the large number detached on extra duty. Washington, himself, vaguely
estimated his effective force at under 20,000 at this time.

As thus arranged, Harlem Heights, in the centre, became the army
headquarters for the time being, Washington, by one of those little
accidents that sometimes arrest a passing thought, occupying the
house[5] of the same lady who had formerly refused the offer of his hand
in marriage, Miss Mary Phillipse, later to accept that of Colonel Roger
Morris, his old companion in arms during Braddock's fatal campaign.


[1] This range of hills includes the present Prospect Park and Greenwood

[2] This weak point was the approach from the east where the Jamaica
road crossed the hills into Bedford village. By striking this road
somewhat higher up, the enemy got to Bedford before the Americans,
guarding the hills beyond, had notice of their approach.

[3] Captain Harris, of the Fifth Foot.

[4] General Glover's estimate.

[5] The Morris House is still standing at 160th street, near 10th
avenue, N. Y., and is now occupied by Gen. Ferdinand P. Earle.



Howe seems to have thought that so long as Washington remained in New
York he might be bagged at leisure. In no other way can his dilatory
proceedings be accounted for. Sixteen days passed without any
demonstration on his part whatever. Meantime, however, the steady
extension of his lines toward Hell Gate had operated such a change of
opinion in the American camp that the decision to hold the city was now
reconsidered, and the evacuation fixed for September 15. It was seen
that the storm centre was now shifting over toward the American
communications, but just where it would break forth was still a matter
of conjecture.

Howe was fully informed of what was going on by his royalist friends in
the city, and like the cat watching the wounded mouse while it is
recovering its breath, he prepared to spring at the moment his
enfeebled adversary should show signs of returning animation.

[Sidenote: British seize New York.]

All being ready, on the very day fixed for the evacuation, Sir Henry
Clinton crossed the East River in boats from Newtown Bay to Kipp's Bay,
with 4,000 men, landed without opposition, owing to a disgraceful panic
which seized the Americans posted there for just such an emergency, and
thus thrust himself in between the Americans in the city and those at
Harlem Heights. Thus cut off, it was only at the greatest risk of
capture that the garrison below was saved, with the loss of much
artillery, tents, baggage, and stores, by marching out on one road while
the enemy were marching in on another,[1] as Clinton had immediately
pushed on up the island, at the heels of the retreating Americans.

A captain of British grenadiers describes what took place after the
landing, in the following animated style:

     "After landing in York Island we drove the Americans into their
     works beyond the eighth milestone from New York, and thus got
     possession of the best half of the island. We took post opposite
     to them, placed our pickets, borrowed a sheep, killed, cooked, and
     ate some of it, and then went to sleep on a gate, which we took the
     liberty of throwing off its hinges, covering our feet with an
     American tent, for which we should have cut poles and pitched had
     it not been so dark. Give me such living as we enjoy at present,
     such a hut and such company, and I would not care three farthings
     if we stayed all the winter, for though the mornings and evenings
     are cold, yet the sun is so hot as to oblige me to put up a blanket
     as a screen."

[Sidenote: Great fire, September 21.]

Each side now rested in possession of half the island, Washington of all
above Harlem Heights, Howe of all below. His conquest was, however, near
proving a barren one, at best, for within a week a third part of the
city was laid in ashes, some say by incendiaries, some by accident.

The situation was now so far reversed that Washington seemed to be
blockading Howe in the city.

[Sidenote: Captain Hale hanged.]

Though it had little bearing upon the result of the campaign, one other
event is deserving of brief mention here. Clinton's descent had been
cleverly managed, out of Washington's sight. What were the enemy
proposing to do next? It was imperative to know. To ascertain this Capt.
Nathan Hale volunteered to go over to Long Island. At his returning he
was arrested. The papers found upon him betrayed his purpose in going
within the enemy's lines, and he was forthwith hanged in a manner that
would have disgraced Tyburn itself.

Howe's next move was probably conceived with the twofold design, first
of cooping Washington up within the island, and second of capturing or
breaking up his entire army.

[Sidenote: Howe's delays.]

But again and again we are puzzled to account for Howe's delays. Hard
fighter that he unquestionably was, he seemed never in a hurry to begin.
There is even some ground for believing that in New York he had found
his Capua. Be that as it may, it is certainly true that nearly a whole
month passed by before the sluggard Sir William again drew sword.

[Sidenote: Lands at Throg's Neck.]

Leaving Lord Percy to defend the lines below Harlem with four brigades,
at eight o'clock P.M. of the 11th of October, General Clinton with the
reserves, light infantry and 1,500 Hessians, embarked on the East River,
passed through Hell Gate, and landed at Throg's Neck,[2] in Westchester,
early the next morning.


Explanation--E, American positions; A-C, British attacks by Harlem
River; B, _via_ King's Bridge; D, from Harlem Plains.]

[Sidenote: Washington moves to White Plains.]

Here he lay inactive for six whole days, within six miles of the road on
which Washington was moving out from King's Bridge to White Plains; for
at the first notice given him of the enemy's movements, which indeed had
all along been anxiously expected, Washington had been drawing out his
forces from Harlem to King's Bridge, first sending forward some light
troops to delay Howe as much as possible, until the army could get into
position. It is evident that but for Howe's delays this purpose could
not have been successfully accomplished.[3]

[Sidenote: Howe marches to give battle.]

Meantime the enemy had been bringing up reënforcements, and on the 18th,
finding the mainland too strongly held at Throg's Neck, for an advance
from that point, they made another landing six miles beyond, whence they
marched toward New Rochelle. From here they again marched (22d) for
White Plains, where Washington was found (27th) drawn up in order of
battle behind the Bronx, waiting for them.

[Sidenote: Battle of White Plains, October 28.]

Here Washington attempted to make a stand, but his right[4] being
vigorously attacked and turned, he was forced to fall back upon a second
position, in which he remained unmolested for several days, when
(November 1) he moved still farther back, to the heights of North
Castle, where he felt himself quite safe from attack.

Howe had now manoeuvred Washington out of all his defences except Fort
Washington, which by General Greene's advice was to be defended, though
now cut off from all support.

[Sidenote: Fort Washington taken.]

Things remained in this situation until November 16, when the fort was
assaulted on three sides, with the result that the whole garrison of
about 3,000 men were made prisoners of war.[5] At some points the
resistance was obstinate, notably at the north, and again at the east,
where one of the attacking divisions attempted to gain the rocky shore
back of the Morris House, under Harlem Heights. A British officer,[6]
there present, says of it that "before landing the fire of cannon and
musketry was so heavy that the sailors quitted their oars and lay down
in the bottom of the boats, and had not the soldiers taken the oars and
pulled on shore we must have remained in this situation."

[Sidenote: Effect on the army.]

[Sidenote: Washington and Lee.]

The loss of the garrison of Fort Washington, 2,000 of whom were regular
troops, was universally regarded as the most severe blow that the
American cause had yet sustained, and it had a most depressing effect
both in and out of the army, but more particularly in the army, as it
tended to develop the growing antagonism between the commander-in-chief
and General Lee, who had ineffectually advocated the evacuation of Fort
Washington when the army was withdrawn from the island. Lee's military
insight had now been most decisively vindicated. His antipathy to
serving as second in command became more and more pronounced, and was
more or less reflected by his admirers, of whom he now had more than
ever. Worse still, it was destined soon to have the most deplorable
results to the army, the cause, and even to Lee himself.


[1] A British brigade was sent down to the city in the course of the

[2] A contraction of Throgmorton's Neck. As this was an island at high
tide, the Americans quickly barred the passage to the mainland by
breaking down the bridge.

[3] On account of the want of wagons this was very slowly done, as the
wagons had to be unloaded and sent back for what could not be brought
along with the troops.

[4] This rested on Chatterton's Hill, some distance in front of the main
line. Not having intrenched, the defenders were overpowered, though not
until after making a sharp fight.

[5] An excellent account of the operations at Fort Washington will be
found in Graydon's _Memoirs_, p. 197 _et seq._

[6] Lieut. Martin Hunter, of the Fifty-second Foot.



[Sidenote: The new situation.]

The dilemma now confronting Washington was hydra-headed. Either way it
was serious. On one side New England lay open to the enemy, on the other
New Jersey. And an advance was also threatened from the North. If he
stayed where he was, the enemy would overrun New Jersey at will. Should
he move his army into New Jersey, Howe could easily cut off its
communications with New England, the chief resource for men and
munitions. Of course this was not to be thought of. On the other hand,
the conquest of New Jersey, with Philadelphia as the ultimate prize, in
all probability would be Howe's next object. At the present moment there
was nothing to prevent his marching to Philadelphia, arms at ease. To
think of fighting in the open field was sheer folly. And there was not
one fortified position between the Hudson and the Delaware where the
enemy's triumphal march might be stayed.

Forced by these adverse circumstances to attempt much more than twice
his present force would have encouraged the hope of doing successfully,
Washington decided that he must place himself between the enemy and
Philadelphia, and at the same time hold fast to his communications with
New England and the upper Hudson. This could only be done by dividing
his greatly weakened forces into two corps, one of which should attempt
the difficult task of checking the enemy in the Jerseys, while the other
held a strong position on the Hudson, until Howe's purposes should be
more fully developed. With Washington it was no longer a choice of
evils, but a stern obedience to imperative necessity.

[Sidenote: The army divided.]

[Sidenote: Washington in New Jersey.]

Lee was now put in command of the corps left to watch Howe's movement
east of the Hudson, loosely estimated at 5,000 men, and ordered back
behind the Croton. Heath, with 2,000 men of his division, was ordered to
Peekskill, to guard the passes of the Highlands, these two corps being
thus posted within supporting distance. With the other corps of 4,000
men Washington crossed into New Jersey, going into camp in the
neighborhood of Fort Lee, where Greene's small force was united with his
own command.[1] Orders were also despatched to Ticonderoga, to forward
at once all troops to the main army that could be spared. Fort Lee had
thus become the last rallying-point for the troops under Washington's
immediate command, and in that sense, also, a menace to the full and
free control of the lower Hudson, which the guns of the fort in part
commanded at its narrowest point. Howe determined to brush away this
last obstruction without delay.

[Sidenote: Fort Lee taken.]

Regarding Fort Lee as no longer serving any important purpose, perhaps
foreseeing that it would soon be attacked, Washington was getting ready
to evacuate it, when on the night of November 19[2] Lord Cornwallis made
a sudden dash across to the New Jersey side, passing Fort Lee
unperceived, landed a little above the fort at a place that had
strangely been left unguarded, climbed the heights unmolested, and was
only prevented from making prisoners of the whole garrison by its
hurried retreat across the Hackensack. Everything in the fort, even to
the kettles in which the men were cooking their breakfasts, was lost.

As regards any further attempt to stay the tide of defeat, all was now
over. The enemy had obtained a secure foothold on the Jersey shore from
which to march across the State, when and how he pleased. Unpalatable as
the admission may be, the fact remains that the Americans had been
everywhere out-generaled and out-fought. Nearly everything in the way of
war material had been lost in the hurried evacuation of New York.[3]
Confidence had been lost. Prestige had been lost. Clearly it was high
time to turn over a new leaf. With this lame affair the first division
of the disastrous campaign of 1776 properly closes, and the second
properly begins. It had been watched with alternate hope, doubt, and
despondency. Excuses are never wanting to bolster up failing
reputations. The generals said they had no soldiers, the soldiers
declared they had no generals; the people hung their heads and were



[1] The Eastern troops remained on the east bank of the Hudson, under
Lee's command, while those belonging to the Middle and Southern colonies
crossed the Hudson with Washington. This disposition may have been
brought about by the belief that the soldiers of each section would
fight best on their own ground, but the fact is notorious that a most
bitter animosity had grown up between them.

[2] This movement is assigned to the 18th by Gordon and those who have
followed him. The 19th is the date given by Captain Harris, who was with
the expedition.

[3] An enumeration of these losses will be found in Gordon's _American
Revolution_, Vol. II., p. 360.



It was now the 20th of November. In a few weeks more, at farthest, the
season for active campaigning would be over. Thus far delay had been the
only thing that the Americans had gained; but at what a cost! Yet
Washington's last hopes were of necessity pinned to it, because the
respite it promised was the only means of bringing another army into the
field in season to renew the contest, if indeed it should be renewed at

[Sidenote: Strength of the army.]

[Sidenote: State of public feeling.]

Losses in battle, by sickness or desertion, or other causes, had brought
his dismembered forces down to a total of 10,000 men, of whom 3,500 only
were now under his immediate command, the rest being with Lee and Heath.
And the work of disintegration was steadily going on. Always hopeful so
long as there was even a straw to cling to, Washington seems to have
expected that the people of New Jersey would have flown to arms, upon
hearing that the invader had actually set foot upon the soil of their
State. Vain hope! His appeal had fallen flat. The great and rich State
of Pennsylvania was nearly, if not quite, as unresponsive. Disguise it
as we may, the fire of '76 seemed all but extinct on its very earliest
altars, and in its stead only a few sickly embers glowed here and there
among its ashes. The futility of further resistance was being openly
discussed, and submission seemed only one step farther off.

In one of his desponding moments Washington turned to his old comrade,
Mercer, with the question, "What think you, if we should retreat to the
back parts of Pennsylvania, would the Pennsylvanians support us?"

Though himself a Pennsylvanian by adoption, Mercer's answer was given
with true soldierly frankness. "If the lower counties give up, the back
counties will do the same," was his discouraging reply.

"We must then retire to Augusta County in Virginia," said Washington,
with grave decision, "and if overpowered there, we must cross the

A volume would fail to give half as good an idea of the critical
condition of affairs as that brief dialogue.

[Sidenote: Cruelties to prisoners.]

First and foremost among the many causes of the army's disruption was
its losses in prisoners. Not less than 5,000 men were at that moment
dying by slow torture in the foul prisons or pestilential floating
dungeons of New York. Turn from it as we may, there is no escaping the
conviction that if not done with the actual sanction of Sir William
Howe, these atrocities were at least committed with his guilty
knowledge.[1] The calculated barbarities practised upon these poor
prisoners, with no other purpose than to make them desert their cause,
or if that failed, totally to unfit them for serving it more, are almost
too shocking for belief. It was such acts as these that wrung from the
indignant Napier the terrible admission that "the annals of civilized
warfare furnish nothing more inhuman towards captives of war than the
prison ships of England."

This method of disposing of prisoners was none the less potent that it
was in some sort murder. Washington had not the prisoners to exchange
for them, Howe would not liberate them on parole, and when exchanges
were finally effected, the men thus released were too much enfeebled by
disease ever to carry a musket again.

In brief, more of Washington's men were languishing in captivity in New
York than he now had with him in the Jerseys. And he was not losing
nearly so many by bullets as by starvation.

[Sidenote: Affects recruiting.]

We have emphasized this dark feature of the contest solely for the
purpose of showing its material influence upon it at this particular
time. The knowledge of how they would be treated, should they fall into
the enemy's hands, undoubtedly deterred many from enlisting. In a
broader sense, it added a new and more aggravated complication to the
general question as to how the war was to be carried on by the two
belligerents, whether under the restraints of civilized warfare, or as a
war to the knife.

Thrown back upon his own resources, Washington must now bitterly have
repented leaving Lee in an independent command. If there was any secret
foreboding on his part that Lee would play him false, we do not discover
it either in his orders or his correspondence. If there was secret
antipathy, Washington showed himself possessed of almost superhuman
patience and self-restraint, for certainly if ever man's patience was
tried Washington's was by the shuffling conduct of his lieutenant at
this time; but if aversion there was on Washington's part he resolutely
put it away from him in the interest of the common cause, feeling, no
doubt, that Lee was a good soldier who might yet do good service, and
caring little himself as to whom the honor might fall, so the true end
was reached. It was a great mind lowering itself to the level of a
little one. But Lee could only see in it a struggle for personal favor
and preferment.

[Sidenote: Retreat begins.]

After the evacuation of Fort Lee, Lee was urged, unfortunately not
ordered, to cross his force into the Jerseys, and so bring it into
coöperation with the troops already there. The demonstrations then
making in his front decided Washington to fall back behind the Passaic,
which he did on the 22d, and on the same day marched down that river to
Newark. On the 24th Cornwallis,[2] who now had assumed control of all
operations in the Jerseys, was reënforced with two British brigades and
a regiment of Highlanders.

Before this force Washington had no choice but to give way in proportion
as Cornwallis advanced, until Lee should join him, when some chance of
checking the enemy might be improved. At any rate, such a junction would
undoubtedly have made Cornwallis more circumspect. As Lee still hung
back, Washington saw this slender hope vanishing. He for a moment
listened to the alternative of marching to Morristown, where the troops
from the Northern army would sooner join him; but as this plan would
leave the direct road to Philadelphia open, it neither suited
Washington's temper nor his views, and he therefore adhered to his
former one of fighting in retreat. And though he had failed to check
Cornwallis at Newark he would endeavor to do so at New Brunswick.

For New Brunswick, therefore, the remains of the army marched, just as
the enemy's rear-guard was entering Newark in hot pursuit. On finding
himself so close to the Americans, Cornwallis pushed on after them with
his light troops, but as Washington had broken down the bridge over the
Raritan after passing it, the British were brought to a halt there.

[Sidenote: New Brunswick evacuated.]

Sustained by the vain hope of being reënforced here, either by Lee or by
new levies of militia coming up as he fell back toward Philadelphia,
Washington meditated making a stand at New Brunswick, which should at
least show the exultant enemy that there was still some life left in his
jaded battalions, and perhaps delay pursuit, which was all that could be
hoped for with his small force. Instead, however, of the expected
reënforcement, the departure of the New Jersey and Maryland brigades,
still so called by courtesy alone, since they were but the shadows of
what they had been, put this purpose out of the question. Again
Washington reluctantly turned his back to his enemy.

Lee's troops were now the chief resource. What few militia joined the
army one day melted away on the next. In Washington's opinion the
crisis had come. He therefore wrote to his laggard lieutenant, "Hasten
your march as much as possible or your arrival may be too late."

[Sidenote: December 7.]

Fortunately Cornwallis had orders not to advance beyond New Brunswick.
He therefore halted there until he could receive new instructions, which
caused a delay of six days before the pursuit was renewed.[3] On the 7th
Cornwallis moved on to Princeton, arriving there on the same day that
Washington left it. This was getting dangerously near, with a wide river
to cross, at only one short march beyond.

In view of the actual state of things, this retreat must stand in
history as a masterpiece of calculated temerity. Keeping only one day's
march ahead of his enemy, Washington's rear-guard only moved off when
the enemy's van came in sight. There is nowhere any hint of a disorderly
retreat, or any serious infraction of discipline, or any deviation from
the strict letter of obedience to orders, such as usually follows in the
wake of a beaten and retreating army. Washington simply let himself be
pushed along when he found resistance altogether hopeless. In this firm
hold on his soldiers, at such an hour, we recognize the leader.


[1] Captain Graydon (_Memoirs_) and Ethan Allen (_Narrative_), both
prisoners at this time, fix the responsibility where it belongs.

[2] Cornwallis (Lord Brome) was squint-eyed from effects of a blow in
the eye received while playing hockey at Eton. His playmate who caused
the accident was Shute Barrington, afterwards Bishop of Durham. He
entered the army as an ensign in the Foot Guards. His first commission
is dated Dec. 8, 1756.

[3] This delay is chargeable to Howe, who kept the troops halted until
he could consult with Cornwallis in person as to future operations. The
question was, Should or should not the British army cross the Delaware?



[Sidenote: December 2 and 3.]

"Hasten your march or your arrival may be too late." When this urgent
appeal was penned Lee had not yet seen fit to cross the Hudson, nor was
it until Washington had reached Princeton that Lee's troops were at last
put in motion toward the Delaware.

Hitherto Lee had been in some sort Washington's tutor, or at least
military adviser,--a rôle for which, we are bound in common justice to
say, Lee was not unfitted. But from the moment of separation he appears
in the light of a rival and a critic, and not too friendly as either. In
the beginning Washington had looked up to Lee. Lee now looked down upon
Washington. Unquestionably the abler tactician of the two, Lee seemed to
have looked forward to Washington's fall as certain, and to so have
shaped his own course as to leave him master of the situation. In so
doing he cannot be acquitted of disloyalty to the cause he served, if
that course threatened to wreck the cause itself.

[Sidenote: Lee's plans.]

It is only just to add that for troops taking the field in the dead of
winter, Lee's were hardly better prepared than those they were going to
assist. General Heath, who saw them march off, says that some of them
were as good soldiers as any in the service, but many were so destitute
of shoes that the blood left on the rugged, frozen ground, in many
places, marked the route they had taken; and he adds that a considerable
number, totally unable to march, were left behind at Peekskill. This
brings us face to face with the extraordinary and unlooked-for fact that
instead of bending all his energies toward effecting a junction with the
commander-in-chief, east of the Delaware, in time to be of service, Lee
had decided to adopt an entirely different line of conduct, more in
accord with his own ideas of how the remainder of the campaign should be
conducted. Meantime, as a cloak to his intentions, he kept up a show of
obeying the spirit, if not the letter, of his instructions, leaving the
impression, however, that he would take the responsibility of
disregarding them if he saw fit. If he had written to Washington, "You
have had your chance and failed; mine has now come," his words and acts
would have been in exact harmony.[1]

[Sidenote: December 7 and 8.]

On the 7th Lee was at Pompton. This day an express was sent off to him
by Heath informing him of the arrival of Greaton's, Bond's, and Porter's
battalions from Albany. Lee replied from Chatham directing them to march
to Morristown, where his own troops were then halted. The prospect of
this reënforcement, which in all probability he had been expecting to
intercept, may account both for the slowness of Lee's march, and for the
closing sentence of his reply to Heath. Here it is: "I am in hopes to
reconquer (if I may so express myself) the Jerseys. It was really in the
hands of the enemy before my arrival."

[Sidenote: Washington crosses the Delaware.]

[Sidenote: December 8.]

In halting as he did Lee was deliberately forcing a crisis with
Washington, who was all this time falling back upon his supplies, while
the British, having to drag theirs after them, could only advance by
spurts. Here was a rare opportunity for fighting in retreat being thrown
away, as Washington conceived, by Lee's dilatoriness in reënforcing
him. Reluctant to abandon his last chance of giving the enemy a check,
Washington seems to have thought of doing so at Princeton (ignorant that
this spot was so soon to be the field of more brilliant operations) as a
means of gaining time for the removal of his baggage across the
Delaware. It was probably with no other purpose that his advance, which
had reached Trenton as early as the 3d, was marched back to Princeton,
which Lord Sterling was still holding with the rear-guard as late as the
7th, when, as we have seen, Cornwallis made his forced march from
Brunswick to Princeton, in such force as to put resistance out of the
question. Here he halted for seventeen hours, thus giving Washington
time to reach Trenton, get his 2,200 or 2,400 men across the Delaware,
and draw them up on the other side, out of harm's reach, just as his
baffled pursuers arrived on the opposite bank.

Cornwallis immediately began a search for the means of crossing in his
turn.[2] Here, again, he was baffled by Washington's foresight, as
every boat for seventy miles up and down the Delaware had been removed
beyond his adversary's reach.

On the day of this catastrophe, which seemed, in the opinion not only of
the victors, but of the vanquished, to have given the finishing stroke
to the American Revolution, Lee's force, augmented by the junction of
the troops marching down to join him, was the sole prop and stay of the
cause in the Jerseys.

That force lay quietly at Morristown until the 12th of the month, when
it was again put in motion toward Vealtown, now Bernardsville.

[Sidenote: Gates arrives.]

[Sidenote: Lee taken.]

At this time a second detachment from the army of the North, under
Gates,[3] was on the march across Sussex County to the Delaware. Being
cut off from communication with the commander-in-chief, Gates sent
forward a staff officer to learn the condition of affairs, report his
own speedy appearance, and receive directions as to what route he should
take, Hearing that Lee was at Morristown, this officer pushed on in
search of him, and at four o'clock in the morning of the 13th, he found
Lee quartered in an out-of-the-way country tavern at Baskingridge,
three miles from his camp, and by just so much nearer the enemy, whose
patrols, since Washington had been disposed of, were now scouring the
roads in every direction. One of these detachments surprised the house
Lee was in, and before noon the crestfallen general was being hurried
off a prisoner to Brunswick by a squadron of British light-horse.

Lee's troops, now Sullivan's, with those of Gates, one or two marches in
the rear, freed from the crafty hand that had been leading them astray,
now pressed on for the Delaware, and thus that concert of action, for
which Washington had all along labored in vain, was again restored
between the fragments of his army, impotent when divided, but yet
formidable as a whole.

Lee's written and spoken words, if indeed his acts did not speak even
louder, leave no doubt as to his purpose in amusing Washington by a show
of coming to his aid, when, in fact, he had no intention of doing so. He
not only assumed the singular attitude, in a subordinate, of passing
judgment upon the propriety or necessity of his orders,--orders given
with full knowledge of the situation,--but proceeded to thwart them in
a manner savoring of contempt. Lee was Washington's Bernadotte. Neither
urging, remonstrance, nor entreaty could swerve him one iota from the
course he had mapped out for himself. Conceiving that he held the key to
the very unpromising situation in his own hands, he had determined to
make the gambler's last throw, and had lost.

Although Lee's conduct toward Washington cannot be justified, it is more
than probable that some such success as that which Stark afterwards
achieved at Bennington, under conditions somewhat similar, though
essentially different as to motives, might, and probably would, have
justified Lee's conduct to the nation, and perhaps even have raised him
to the position he coveted--of the head of the army, on the ruins of
Washington's military reputation. Could he even have cut the enemy's
line so as to throw it into confusion, his conduct might have escaped
censure. With this end in view he designed holding a position on the
enemy's flank,[4] arguing, perhaps, that Washington would be compelled
to reënforce him rather than see him defeated, with the troops now
beyond the Delaware. Washington saw through Lee's schemes, refused to be
driven into doing what his judgment did not approve, and the tension
between the two generals was suddenly snapped by the imprudence or worse
of Lee himself.

Captain Harris,[5] who saw Lee brought to Brunswick a prisoner, has this
to say of him: "He was taken by a party of ours under Colonel Harcourt,
who surrounded the house in which this arch-traitor was residing. Lee
behaved as cowardly in this transaction as he had dishonorably in every
other. After firing one or two shots from the house, he came out and
entreated our troops to spare his life. Had he behaved with proper
spirit I should have pitied him. I could hardly refrain from tears when
I first saw him, and thought of the miserable fate in which his
obstinacy has involved him. He says he has been mistaken in three
things: first, that the New England men would fight; second, that
America was unanimous; and third, that she could afford two men for our


[1] Lee had expected the first place and had been given the second. His
successes while acting in a separate command (at Charleston) told
heavily against Washington's reverses in this campaign; and his
outspoken criticisms, frequently just, as the event proved, had produced
their due impression on the minds of many, who believed Lee the better
general of the two. Events had so shaped themselves, in consequence, as
to raise up two parties in the army. And here was laid the foundation of
all those personal jealousies which culminated in Lee's dismissal from
the army. While his abilities won respect, his insufferable egotism made
him disliked, and it is to be remarked of the divisions Lee's ambition
was promoting, that the best officers stood firmly by the

[2] Cornwallis took no boats with him, as he might have done, from
Brunswick. A small number would have answered his purpose.

[3] Ticonderoga being out of danger for the present, Washington had
ordered Gates down with all troops that could be spared.

[4] As Washington had been urged to do, instead of keeping between
Cornwallis and Philadelphia.

[5] Lord George Harris, of the Fifth Foot.

[6] It will be noticed that this account differs essentially from that
of Wilkinson, who, though present at Lee's capture, hid himself until
the light-horse had left with their prisoner.



To all intents the campaign of 1776 had now drawn its lengthened
disasters to a close. It had indeed been protracted nearly to the point
of ruin, with the one result, that Philadelphia was apparently safe for
the present. But with Washington thrown back across the Delaware, Lee a
prisoner, Congress fled to Baltimore, Canada lost, New York lost, the
Jerseys overrun, the royal army stretched out from the Hudson to the
Delaware and practically intact, while the patriot army, dwindled to a
few thousands, was expected to disappear in a few short weeks, the
situation had grown desperate indeed.

So hopeless indeed was the outlook everywhere that the ominous cry of
"Every one for himself"--that last despairing cry of the
vanquished--began to be echoed throughout the colonies. We have seen
that even Washington himself seriously thought of retreating behind the
Alleghanies, which was virtual surrender. Even he, if report be true,
began to think of the halter, and Franklin's little witticism, on
signing the Declaration, of, "Come, gentlemen, we must all hang together
or we shall hang separately," was getting uncomfortably like inspired

If we turn now to the people, we shall find the same apparent consenting
to the inevitable, the same tendency of all intelligent discussion
toward the one result. One instance only of this feeling may be cited
here, as showing how the young men--always the least despondent portion
of any community--received the news of the retreat through the Jerseys.

Elkanah Watson sets down the following at Plymouth, Mass.: "We looked
upon the contest as near its close, and considered ourselves a
vanquished people. The young men present determined to emigrate, and
seek some spot where liberty dwelt, and where the arm of British tyranny
could not reach us. Major Thomas (who had brought them the dispiriting
news from the army) animated our desponding spirits with the assurance
that Washington was not dismayed, but evinced the same serenity and
confidence as ever. Upon him rested all our hopes."

[Sidenote: British plans.]

At the British headquarters the contest, with good reason, was felt to
be practically over. Unless all signs failed one short campaign would,
beyond all question, end it; for at no point were the Americans able to
show a respectable force. In the North a fresh army, under General
Burgoyne, was getting ready to break through Ticonderoga and come down
the Hudson with a rush, carrying all before them, as Cornwallis had done
in the Jerseys. This would cut the rebellion in two. On the same day
that Washington crossed the Delaware, Clinton had seized Newport,
without firing a shot. This would hold New England in check. In short,
should Howe's plans for the coming season work, as there was every
reason to expect, then there would be little enough left of the
Revolution in its cradle and stronghold, with the troops at New York,
Albany, and Newport acting in well-devised combination.

Brilliant only when roused by the presence of danger, Howe as easily
fell into his habitual indolence when the danger had passed by. In
effect, what had he to fear? Washington was beyond the Delaware, with
the débris of the army he had lately commanded, which served him rather
as an escort than a defence. If let alone, even this would shortly

Under these circumstances Howe felt that he could well afford to give
himself and his troops a breathing-spell. This was now being put in
train. Cornwallis was about to sail for England, on leave of absence.
The garrison of New York disposed itself to pass the winter in idleness,
and even those detachments doing outpost duty in the Jerseys, after
having chased Washington until they were tired, turned their attention
exclusively to the disaffected inhabitants. The field had already been
reaped, and these troops were the gleaners.

[Sidenote: Chain of posts.]

To hold what had been gained a chain of posts was now stretched across
the Jerseys from Perth Amboy to the Delaware, with Trenton, Bordentown,
and Burlington as the outposts and New Brunswick as the dépôt, the first
being well placed either for making an advance, or for checking any
attempts by the Americans to recross the river. Washington believed that
the British would be in Philadelphia just as soon as the ice was strong
enough to bear artillery. If the expected dissolution of his army had
happened, no doubt the enemy's advanced troops would have taken
possession of the city at once. And it is even quite probable that this
contingency was considered a foregone conclusion, since British agents
were now actively at work in Washington's own camp, undermining the
feeble authority which everybody believed was tottering to its fall. Be
that as it may, the fact remains that active operations were for the
present wholly suspended. At the officers' messes or in the barracks all
the talk was of going home. Besides, if Howe had really wanted to take
Philadelphia there was nothing to prevent his doing so. There were no
defences. If saved at all, the city must be defended in the field, not
in the streets.

Bordentown being rather the most exposed, Count Donop was left there
with some 2,000 Hessians, and Colonel Rall at Trenton with 1,200 to
1,300 more. Both were veterans. As these Hessians were about equally
hated and feared, it was well reasoned that they would be all the more
watchful against a surprise.

[Illustration: THE ATTACK ON TRENTON.]

[Sidenote: Rall and Donop.]

As soon as he had time to look about him, Donop at once extended his
outposts down to Burlington, on the river, and to Black Horse, on the
back-road leading south to Mt. Holly, thus establishing himself at the
base point of a triangle from which his outposts could be speedily
reënforced, either from Bordentown or each other. The post at Burlington
was only eighteen miles from Philadelphia.

In order to understand the efforts subsequently made to break through it
this line should be carefully traced out on the map. In spots it was
weak, yet the long gaps, like that between Princeton and Trenton, and
between Princeton and Brunswick, were thought sufficiently secured by
occasional patrols.

To meet these dispositions of the enemy Washington stretched out the
remnant of his force along the opposite bank of the Delaware, from above
Trenton to below Bordentown, looking chiefly to the usual crossing
places, which were being vigilantly watched.


Under date of December 16 a British officer writes home as follows:
"Winter quarters are now fixed. Our army forms a chain of about ninety
miles in length from Fort Lee, where our baggage crossed, to Trenton on
the Delaware, which river, I believe, we shall not cross till next
campaign, as General Howe is returning to New York. I understand we are
to winter at a small village near the Raritan River, and are to form a
sort of advanced picket. There is mountainous ground very near this post
where the rebels are still in arms, and are expected to be troublesome
during the winter."

[Sidenote: Cruelties of troops.]

He then goes on to speak of the deplorable condition in which the
inhabitants had been left by the rival armies, dividing the blame with
impartial hand, and moralizing a little, as follows: "A civil war is a
dreadful thing; what with the devastation of the rebels, and that of the
English and Hessian troops, every part of the country where the scene of
the action has been looks deplorable. Furniture is broken to pieces,
good houses deserted and almost destroyed, others burnt; cattle, horses,
and poultry carried off; and the old plundered of their all. The rebels
everywhere left their sick behind, and most of them have died for want
of care."

This telling piece of testimony is introduced here not only because it
comes from an eye-witness, but from an enemy. Beneath the uniform the
man speaks out. But his omissions are still more eloquent. It was not
so much the loss of property, bad as that was, as the nameless
atrocities everywhere perpetrated by the royal troops upon the young,
the helpless, and the innocent, that makes the tale too revolting to be
told. In truth, all that part of the Jerseys held by the enemy had been
given up to indiscriminate rapine and plunder. It was in vain that the
victims pleaded the king's protection. As vainly did they appeal to the
humanity of the invaders. The brutal soldiery defied the one and laughed
at the other. Finding that the promised pardon and mercy were synonymous
with murder, arson, and rapine, such a revulsion of feeling had taken
place that the authors of these cruelties were literally sleeping on a
volcano; and where patriotism had so lately been invoked in vain, hope
of revenge was now turning every man, woman, and child into either an
open or a secret foe to the despoilers of their homes. One little breath
only was wanting to fan the revolt to a flame; one little spark to fire
the train. All eyes, therefore, were instinctively turned to the banks
of the Delaware.



[Sidenote: Spirit of the officers.]

[Sidenote: Post at Bristol.]

Enough has been said to show that only heroic measures could now save
the American cause. Fortunately Washington was surrounded by a little
knot of officers of approved fidelity, whose spirit no reverses could
subdue. And though a calm retrospect of so many disasters, with all the
jealousies, the defections, and the terror which had followed in their
wake, might well have carried discouragement to the stoutest hearts,
this little band of heroes now closed up around their careworn chief,
and like the ever-famous Guard at Waterloo, were fully resolved to die
rather than surrender. This was much. It was still more when Washington
found his officers inspired by the same hope of striking the enemy
unawares which he himself had all along secretly entertained. The hope
was still further encouraged by a reënforcement of Pennsylvania
militia, whose pride had been aroused at seeing the invader's vedettes
in sight of their capital. These were posted at Bristol, under
Cadwalader,[1] as a check to Count Donop, while what was left of the old
army was guarding the crossings above, as a check to Rall.

To do something, and to do it quickly, were equally imperative, because
the term of the regular troops would expire in a few days more, and no
one realized better than the commander-in-chief that the militia could
not long be held together inactive in camp.

[Sidenote: Rall's danger.]

The isolated situation of Rall and Donop seemed to invite attack. Their
fancied security seemed also to presage success. An inexorable necessity
called loudly for action before conditions so favorable should be
changed by the freezing up of the Delaware when, if the enemy had any
enterprise whatever, the river would no longer prevent, but assist, his
marching into Philadelphia, and perhaps dictating a peace from the halls
of Congress.

Donop being considerably nearer Philadelphia than Rall, was, as we have
seen, being closely watched by Cadwalader, whose force being largely
drawn from the city had the best reasons for wishing to be rid of so
troublesome a neighbor.

[Sidenote: Gates sulking.]

More especially in view of possible contingencies, which he could not be
on the ground to direct, Washington sent his able adjutant-general,
Reed,[2] down to aid Cadwalader. This action, too, removed a difficulty
which had arisen out of Gates' excusing himself from taking this command
on the plea of ill-health.

[Sidenote: In Philadelphia.]

Below Cadwalader, again, Putnam was in command at Philadelphia, with a
fluctuating force of local militia, only sufficiently numerous to
furnish guards for the public property, protect the friends, and watch
the enemies, of the cause, between whom the city was thought to be about
equally divided. Most reluctantly the conclusion had been reached that
the appearance of the British in force, on the opposite bank of the
Delaware, would be the signal for a revolt. Here, then, was another rock
of danger, upon which the losing cause was now steadily
drifting,--another warning not to delay action.

It was then that Washington resolved on making one of those sudden
movements so disconcerting to a self-confident enemy. It had been some
time maturing, but could not be sooner put in execution on account of
the wretched condition of Sullivan's (lately Lee's) troops, who had come
off their long march, as Washington expresses it, in want of everything.

[Sidenote: A first move.]

Putnam was the first to beard the lion by throwing part of his force
across the Delaware.[3] Whether this was done to mask any purposed
movement from above, or not, it certainly had that result. After
crossing into the Jerseys Griffin marched straight to Mt. Holly, where
he was halted on the 22d, waiting for the reënforcements he had asked
for from Cadwalader. Donop having promptly accepted the challenge,
marched against Griffin, who, having effected his purpose of drawing
Donop's attention to himself, fell back beyond striking distance.

It was Washington's plan to throw Cadwalader's and Ewing's[4] forces in
between Donop and Rall, while Griffin or Putnam was threatening Donop
from below; and he was striking Rall from above. Had these blows fallen
in quick succession there is little room to doubt that a much greater
measure of success would have resulted.

Orders for the intended movement were sent out from headquarters on the
23d. They ran to this effect:

[Sidenote: Rall the object.]

Cadwalader at Bristol, Ewing at Trenton Ferry, and Washington himself at
McKonkey's Ferry, were to cross the Delaware simultaneously on the night
of the 25th and attack the enemy's posts in their front. Cadwalader and
Ewing having spent the night in vain efforts to cross their commands,
returned to their encampments. It only remains to follow the movements
of the commander-in-chief, who was fortunately ignorant of these

Twenty-four hundred men, with eighteen cannon, were drawn up on the bank
of the river at sunset. Tolstoi claims that the real problem of the
science of war "is to ascertain and formulate the value of the spirit of
the men, and their willingness and eagerness to fight." This little band
was all on fire to be led against the enemy. No holiday march lay before
them, yet every officer and man instinctively felt that the last hope
of the Republic lay in the might of his own good right arm.

Did we need any further proof of the desperate nature of these
undertakings, it is found in the matchless group of officers that now
gathered round the commander-in-chief to stand or fall with him. With
such chiefs and such soldiers the fight was sure to be conducted with
skill and energy.

[Sidenote: Strong array of officers.]

Greene, Sullivan, St. Clair, Sterling, Knox, Mercer, Stephen, Glover,
Hand, Stark, Poor, and Patterson were there to lead these slender
columns to victory. Among the subordinates who were treading this rugged
pathway to renown were Hull, Monroe, Hamilton, and Wilkinson. Rank
disappeared in the soldier. Major-generals commanded weak brigades,
brigadiers, half battalions, colonels, broken companies. Some sudden
inspiration must have nerved these men to face the dangers of that
terrible night. History fails to show a more sublime devotion to an
apparently lost cause.

[Sidenote: The Delaware crossed.]

Boats being held in readiness the troops began their memorable crossing.
Its difficulties and dangers may be estimated by the failure of the two
coöperating; corps to surmount them. Of this part of the work Glover[5]
took charge. Again his Marblehead men manned the boats, as they had done
at Long Island; and though it was necessary to force a passage by main
strength through the floating ice, which the strong current and high
wind steadily drove against them, the transfer from the friendly to the
hostile shore slowly went on in the thickening darkness and gloom of the
waiting hours.

Little by little the group on the eastern shore began to grow larger as
the hours wore on. Washington was there wrapped in his cloak, and in
that inscrutable silence denoting the crisis of a lifetime. Did his
thoughts go back to that eventful hour when he was guiding a frail raft
through the surging ice of the Monongahela? Knox was there animating the
utterly cheerless scene by his loud commands to the men in charge of his
precious artillery, for which the shivering troops were impatiently
waiting. At three o'clock the last gun was landed. The crossing had
required three hours more than had been allowed for it. Nearly another
hour was used up in forming the troops for the march of nine miles to
Trenton, which could hardly be reached over such a wretched road, and in
such weather, in less than from three to four hours more. To make
matters worse, rain, hail, and sleet began falling heavily, and freezing
as it fell.

To surround and surprise Trenton before daybreak was now out of the
question. Nevertheless, Washington decided to push on as rapidly as
possible; and the troops having been formed in two columns, were now put
in motion toward the enemy.

The march was horrible. A more severe winter's night had never been
experienced even by the oldest campaigners. To keep moving was the only
defence against freezing. Enveloped in whirling snow-flakes, encompassed
in blackest darkness, the little column toiled steadily on through
sludge ankle-deep, those in the rear judging by the quantity of snow
lodged on the hats and coats of those in front, the load that they
themselves were carrying. Not a word, a jest, or a snatch of song broke
the silence of that fearful march.

At a cross-road four and a half miles from Trenton the word was passed
along the line to halt. Here the columns divided. With one Greene filed
off on a road bearing to the left, which, after making a considerable
circuit, struck into Trenton more to the east. Washington rode with this
division. The other column kept the road on which it had been marching.
Sullivan led this division with Stark in the van. At this moment
Sullivan was informed that the muskets were too wet to be depended upon.
He instantly sent off an aid to Washington for further orders. The aid
came galloping back with the order to "go on," delivered in a tone which
he said he should never forget. With grim determination Sullivan again
moved forward, and the word ran through the ranks, "We have our bayonets

All this time Ewing was supposed to be nearing Trenton from the south.
In that case the town would be assaulted from three points at once, and
a retreat to Bordentown be cut off.


[1] John Cadwalader, of Philadelphia. His services in this campaign were
both timely and important.

[2] Joseph Reed succeeded Gates as adjutant-general after Gates was
promoted. Reed's early life had been passed in New Jersey, though he had
moved to Philadelphia before the war broke out. His knowledge of the
country which became the seat of war was invaluable to Washington.

[3] This force was under command of Colonel Griffin, Putnam's

[4] James Ewing, brigadier-general of Pennsylvania militia, posted
opposite to Bordentown. In some accounts he is called Irvine, Erwing,

[5] Col. John Glover commanded one of the best disciplined regiments in
Washington's army.



Very early in the evening there had been firing at Rall's outposts, but
the careless enemy hardly gave it his attention. Some lost detachment
had probably fired on the pickets out of mere bravado. The night had
been spent in carousal, and the storm had quieted Rall's mind as regards
any danger of an attack.[1]

[Sidenote: The attack.]

But in the gray dawn of that dark December morning the two assaulting
columns, emerging like phantoms from the midst of the storm, were
rapidly approaching the Hessian pickets. All was quiet. The newly fallen
snow deadened the rumble of the artillery. The pickets were enjoying the
warmth of the houses in which they had taken post, half a mile out of
town, when the alarm was raised that the enemy were upon them. They
turned out only to be swept away before the eager rush of the
Americans, who came pouring on after them into the town, as it seemed
in all directions, shouting and firing at the flying enemy. That long
night of exposure, of suspense, the fatigue of that rapid march, were
forgotten in the rattle of musketry and the din of battle.

[Sidenote: Street combats.]

Roused by the uproar the bewildered Hessians ran out of their barracks
and attempted to form in the streets. The hurry, fright, and confusion
were said to be like to that with which the imagination conjures up the
sounding of the last trump.[2] Grape and canister cleared the streets in
the twinkling of an eye. The houses were then resorted to for shelter.
From these the musketry soon dislodged the fugitives. Turned again into
the streets the Hessians were driven headlong through the town into an
open plain beyond it. Here they were formed in an instant, and Rall,
brave enough in the smoke and flame of combat, even thought of forcing
his way back into the town.

[Sidenote: Sullivan in action.]

But Washington was again thundering away in their front with his cannon.
In person he directed their fire like a simple lieutenant of artillery.
Off at the right the roll of Sullivan's musketry announced his steady
advance toward the bridge leading to Bordentown. The road to Princeton
was held by a regiment of riflemen. Those troops, whom Sullivan had been
driving before him, saved themselves by a rapid flight across the
Assanpink. Why was not Ewing there to stop them! Sullivan promptly
seized the bridge in time to intercept a disorderly mass of Hessian
infantry, who had broken away from the main body in a panic, hoping to
make their escape that way.

[Sidenote: Hessians surrender.]

Not knowing which way to turn next, Rall held his ground, like a wounded
boar brought to bay, until a bullet struck him to the ground with a
mortal wound. Finding themselves hemmed in on all sides, and seeing the
American cannoneers getting ready to fire with canister, at short range,
the Hessian colors were lowered in token of surrender.

A thousand prisoners, six cannon, with small-arms and ammunition in
proportion, were the trophies of this brilliant victory. The work had
been well done. From highest to lowest the immortal twenty-four hundred
had behaved like men determined to be free.

[Sidenote: The river recrossed.]

Now, while in the fresh glow of triumph, Washington learned that neither
Ewing nor Cadwalader had crossed to his assistance. He stood alone on
the hostile shore, within striking distance of the enemy at Bordentown,
and at Princeton. Donop, reënforced by the fugitives from Trenton,
outnumbered him three to two. Reënforced by the garrison at Princeton,
the odds would be as two to one. All these enemies he would soon have on
his hands, with no certainty of any increase of his own force.

His combinations had failed, and he must have time to look about him
before forming new ones. There was no help for it. He must again put the
Delaware behind him before being driven into it.

Washington heard these tidings as things which the incompetence or
jealousies of his generals had long habituated him to hear. Orders were
therefore given to repass the river without delay or confusion, and,
after gathering up their prisoners and their trophies, the victors
retraced their painful march to their old encampment, where they
arrived the same evening, worn out with their twenty-four hours'
incessant marching and fighting, but with confidence in themselves and
their leaders fully restored.

This little battle marked an epoch in the history of the war. It was now
the Americans who attacked. Trenton had taught them the lesson that, man
for man, they had nothing to fear from their vaunted adversaries; and
that lesson, learned at the point of the bayonet, is the only one that
can ever make men soldiers. The enemy could well afford to lose a town,
but this rise of a new spirit was quite a different thing. Therefore,
though a little battle, Trenton was a great fact, nowhere more fully
confessed than in the British camp, where it was now gloomily spoken of
as the tragedy of Trenton.


[1] Harris says that Rall had intelligence of the intended attack, and
kept his men under arms the whole night. Long after daybreak, a most
violent snow-storm coming on, he thought he might safely permit his men
to lie down, and in this state they were surprised by the
enemy.--_Life_, p. 64.

[2] General Knox's account is here followed.--_Memoir_, p. 38.



[Sidenote: Cadwalader crosses.]

The events of the next two days, apart from Washington's own movements,
are a real comedy of errors. The firing at Trenton had been distinctly
heard at Cadwalader's camp and its reason guessed. Later, rumors of the
result threw the camps into the wildest excitement. Bitterly now these
men regretted that they had not pushed on to the aid of their comrades.
Supposing Washington still to be at Trenton, Cadwalader made a second
attempt to cross to his assistance at Bristol on the 27th, when, in
fact, Washington was then back in Pennsylvania.[1]

Cadwalader thus put himself into precisely the same situation from which
Washington had just hastened to extricate himself. But neither had
foreseen the panic which had seized the enemy on hearing of the surprise
of Trenton.

[Sidenote: At Bordentown.]

On getting over the river, Cadwalader learned the true state of things,
which placed him in a very awkward dilemma as to what he should do next.
As his troops were eager to emulate the brilliant successes of their
comrades, he decided, however, to go in search of Donop. He therefore
marched up to Burlington the same afternoon. The enemy had left it the
day before. He then made a night march to Bordentown, which was also
found deserted in haste. Crosswicks, another outpost lying toward
Princeton, was next seized by a detachment. That, too, had been
hurriedly abandoned. Cadwalader could find nobody to attack or to attack
him. The stupefied people only knew that their villages had been
suddenly evacuated. In short, the enemy's whole line had been swept away
like dead leaves before an autumnal gale, under that one telling blow at

Even Washington himself seems not to have realized the full extent of
his success until these astonishing reports came in in quick succession.
As the elated Americans marched on they saw the inhabitants everywhere
pulling down the red rags which had been nailed to their doors, as
badges of loyalty. "Jersey will be the most whiggish colony on the
continent," writes an officer of this corps of Cadwalader's. "The very
Quakers declare for taking up arms."[2]

[Sidenote: Trenton reoccupied.]

In view of the facts here stated, Washington was strongly urged to
secure his hold on West Jersey before the enemy should have time to
recover from their panic. The temper of the people seemed to justify the
attempt, even with the meagre force at his command. On the 29th he
therefore reoccupied Trenton in force. At the same time orders were sent
off to McDougall at Morristown, and Heath in the Highlands, to show
themselves to the enemy, as if some concerted movement was in progress
all along the line.[3]

[Sidenote: Princeton reënforced.]

Meantime the alarm brought about by Donop's[4] falling back on Princeton
caused the commanding officer there to call urgently for reënforcements.
None were sent, however, for some days, when the grenadiers and second
battalion of guards marched in from New Brunswick. In evidence of the
wholesome terror inspired by Washington's daring movements comes the
account of the reception of this reënforcement by an eye-witness,
Captain Harris, of the grenadiers, who writes of it: "You would have
felt too much to be able to express your feelings on seeing with what a
warmth of friendship our children, as we call the light-infantry,
welcomed us, one and all crying, 'Let them come! Lead us to them, we are
sure of being supported.' It gave me a pleasure too fine to attempt

Howe was now pushing forward all his available troops toward Princeton.
Cornwallis hastened back to that place with the _élite_ of the army.
While these heavy columns were gathering like a storm-cloud in his front
Washington and his generals were haranguing their men, entreating them
to stay even for a few weeks longer. Such were the shifts to which the
commander-in-chief found himself reduced when in actual presence of this
overwhelming force of the enemy.

[Sidenote: Washington concentrates.]

Through the efforts of their officers most of the New England troops
reënlisted for six weeks--Stark's regiment almost to a man.[5] And these
battalions constituted the real backbone of subsequent operations.
Hearing that the enemy was at least ready to move forward, Cadwalader's
and Mifflin's troops were called in to Trenton, and preparations made
to receive the attack unflinchingly. This force being all assembled on
the 1st of January, 1777, Washington posted it on the east side of the
Assanpink, behind the bridge over which Rail's soldiers had made good
their retreat on the day of the surprise, with some thirty guns planted
in his front to defend the crossing. Washington and Rall had thus
suddenly changed places.

[Sidenote: His position, Jan. 2, 1777.]

The American position was strong except on the right. It being higher
ground the artillery commanded the town, the Assanpink was not fordable
in front, the bridge was narrow, and the left secured by the Delaware.
The weak spot, the right, rested in a wood which was strongly held, and
capable of a good defence; but inasmuch as the Assanpink could be forded
two or three miles higher up, a movement to the right and rear of the
position was greatly to be feared. If successful it would necessarily
cut off all retreat, as the Delaware was now impassable.

On the 2d the enemy's advance came upon the American pickets posted
outside of Trenton, driving them through the town much in the same
manner as they had driven the Hessians. As soon as the enemy came within
range, the American artillery drove them back under cover, firing being
kept up until dark.

Having thus developed the American position, Cornwallis, astonished at
Washington's temerity in taking it, felt sure of "bagging the fox," as
he styled it, in the morning.

The night came. The soldiers slept, but Washington, alive to the danger,
summoned his generals in council. All were agreed that a battle would be
forced upon them with the dawn of day--all that the upper fords could
not be defended. And if they were passed, the event of battle would be
beyond all doubt disastrous. Cornwallis had only to hold Washington's
attention in front while turning his flank. Should, then, the patriot
army endeavor to extricate itself by falling back down the river? There
seems to have been but one opinion as to the futility of the attempt,
inasmuch as there was no stronger position to fall back upon. As a
choice of evils, it was much better to remain where they were than be
forced into making a disorderly retreat while looking for some other
place to fight in.

Who, then, was responsible for putting the army into a position where it
could neither fight nor retreat? If neither of these things could be
done with any hope of success, there remained, in point of fact, but one
alternative, to which the abandonment of the others as naturally led as
converging roads to a common centre. In all the history of the war a
more dangerous crisis is not to be met with. It is, therefore,
incredible that only one man should have seen this avenue of escape,
though it may well be that even the boldest generals hesitated to be the
first to urge so desperate an undertaking.

[Sidenote: Washington's tactics.]

In effect, the very danger to which the little army was exposed seems to
have suggested to Washington the way out of it. If the enemy could turn
his right, why could not he turn their left? If they could cut off his
retreat, why could not he threaten their's? This was sublimated
audacity, with his little force; but safety here was only to be plucked
from the nettle danger. It was then and there that Washington[6]
proposed making a flank march to Princeton that very night, boldly
throwing themselves upon the enemy's communications, defeating such
reënforcements as might be found in the way, and perhaps dealing such a
blow as would, if successful, baffle all the enemy's plans.

The very audacity of the proposal fell in with the temper of the
generals, who now saw the knot cut as by a stroke of genius. This would
not be a retreat, but an advance. This could not be imputed to fear, but
rather to daring. The proposal was instantly adopted, and the generals
repaired to their respective commands.

[Sidenote: Jan. 3, 1777.]

[Sidenote: March to Princeton.]

Replenishing the camp fires, and leaving the sentinels at their posts,
at one o'clock the army filed off to the right in perfect silence and
order. The baggage and some spare artillery were sent off to Burlington,
to still further mystify the enemy. By one of those sudden changes of
weather, not uncommon even in midwinter, the soft ground had become hard
frozen during the early part of the night, so that rapid marching was
possible, and rapid marching was the only thing that could save the
movement from failure, as Cornwallis would have but twelve miles to
march to Washington's seventeen, to overtake them--he by a good road,
they by a new and half-worked one. Miles, therefore, counted for much
that night, and though many of the men wore rags wrapped about their
feet, for want of shoes, and the shoeless artillery horses had to be
dragged or pushed along over the slippery places, to prevent their
falling, the column pushed on with unflagging energy toward its goal.

[Sidenote: British in pursuit.]

Shortly after daybreak the British, at Trenton, heard the dull booming
of a distant cannonade. Washington, escaped from their snares, was
sounding the reveille at Princeton. The British camp awoke and listened.
Soon the rumor spread that the American lines were deserted. Drums beat,
trumpets sounded, ranks were formed in as great haste as if the enemy
were actually in the camps, instead of being at that moment a dozen
miles away. Cornwallis, who had gone to bed expecting to make short work
of Washington in the morning, saw himself fairly outgeneralled. His
rear-guard, his magazines, his baggage, were in danger, his line of
retreat cut off. There was not a moment to lose. Exasperated at the
thought of what they would say of him in England, he gave the order to
press the pursuit to the utmost. The troops took the direct route by
Maidenhead to Princeton; and thus, for the second time, Trenton saw
itself freed from enemies, once routed, twice disgraced, and thoroughly
crestfallen and stripped of their vaunted prestige.

[Sidenote: Mercer's fight.]

Three British battalions lay at Princeton the night before.[7] Two of
them were on the march to Trenton when Washington's troops were
discovered approaching on a back road. Astonished at seeing troops
coming up from that direction, the leading battalion instantly turned
back to meet them. At the same time Washington detached Mercer to seize
the main road, while he himself pushed on with the rest of the troops.
This movement brought on a spirited combat between Mercer and the strong
British battalion, which had just faced about.[8] The fight was short,
sharp, and bloody. After a few volleys, the British charged with the
bayonet, broke through Mercer's ranks, scattered his men, and even
drove back Cadwalader's militia, who were coming up to their support.

Other troops now came up. Washington himself rode in among Mercer's
disordered men, calling out to them to turn and face the enemy. It was
one of those critical moments when everything must be risked. Like
Napoleon pointing his guns at Montereau, the commander momentarily
disappeared in the soldier; and excited by the combat raging around him,
all the Virginian's native daring flashed out like lightning. Waving his
uplifted sword, he pushed his horse into the fire as indifferent to
danger as if he had really believed that the bullet which was to kill
him was not yet cast.

Taking courage from his presence and example the broken troops re-formed
their ranks. The firing grew brisker and brisker. Assailed with fresh
spirit, the British, in their turn, gave way, leaving the ground strewed
with their dead, in return for their brutal use of the bayonet among the
wounded. Finding themselves in danger of being surrounded, that portion
of this fighting British regiment[9] which still held together
retreated as they could toward Maidenhead, after giving such an example
of disciplined against undisciplined valor as won the admiration even of
their foes.

While this fight was going on at one point, the second British battalion
was, in its turn, met and routed by the American advance, under St.
Clair. This battalion then fled toward Brunswick, part of the remaining
battalion did the same thing, and part threw themselves into the college
building they had used as quarters, where a few cannon shot compelled
them to surrender.

Three strong regiments had thus been broken in detail and put to flight.
Two had been prevented from joining Cornwallis. Besides the killed and
wounded they left two hundred and fifty prisoners behind them. The
American loss in officers was, however, very severe. The brave Mercer
was mortally wounded, and that gallant son of Delaware, Colonel Haslet,
killed fighting at his commander's side.

After a short halt Washington again pushed on toward Brunswick, but
tempting as the opportunity of destroying the dépôt there seemed to him,
it had to be given up. His troops were too much exhausted, and
Cornwallis was now thundering in his rear. When Kingston was reached the
army therefore filed off to the left toward[10] Somerset Court House,
leaving the enemy to continue his headlong march toward Brunswick, which
was not reached until four o'clock in the morning, with troops
completely broken down with the rapidity of their fruitless chase.

Washington could now say, "I am as near New York as they are to


[1] Cadwalader seems to have done all in his power to cross his troops
in the first place. His infantry mostly got over, but on finding it
impossible to land the artillery--ice being jammed against the shores
for two hundred yards--the infantry were ordered back. Indeed, his
rear-guard could not get back until the next day. This was at Dunk's
Ferry. The next and successful attempt took from nine in the morning
till three in the afternoon, when 3,000 men crossed one mile above

[2] Thomas Rodney's letter.

[3] Heath was ordered to make a demonstration as far down as King's
Bridge, in order to keep Howe from reënforcing the Jerseys. It proved a
perfect flash-in-the-pan.

[4] Part of Donop's force fell back even as far as New Brunswick.

[5] Stark made a personal appeal with vigor and effect. His regiment had
come down from Ticonderoga in time to be given the post of honor by
Washington himself.

[6] In a letter to his wife Knox gives the credit of this suggestion to
Washington, without qualification.

[7] These were the Seventeenth, Fortieth, and Fifty-first.

[8] The hostile columns met on the slope of a hill just off the main
road, near the buildings of a man named Clark, Mercer reaching the
ground first.

[9] The Seventeenth regiment, Colonel Mawhood, carried off the honors of
the day for the British.

[10] The position at Morristown had been critically examined by Lee's
officers during their halt there. Washington had therefore decided to
defend the Jerseys from that position.



It had taken Cornwallis a whole week to drive Washington from Brunswick
to Trenton; Washington had now made Cornwallis retrace his steps inside
of twenty-four hours. In the retreat through the Jerseys there had been
neither strategy nor tactics; nothing but a retreat, pure and simple. In
the advance, strategy and tactics had placed the inferior force in the
attitude menacing the superior, had saved Philadelphia, and were now in
a fair way to recover the Jerseys without the expenditure even of
another charge of powder.

While Washington was looking for a vantage ground from which to hold
what had been gained, everything on the British line was going to the
rear in confusion. Orders and counter orders were being given with a
rapidity which invariably accompanies the first moments of a panic, and
which tend rather to increase than diminish its effects.

What was passing at Brunswick has fortunately found a record in the
diary of a British officer posted there when the news of Washington's
coming fell like a bombshell in their camp. It is given word for word:

     On the 3d we had repeated accounts that Washington had not only
     taken Princeton, but was in full march upon Brunswick. General
     Matthew (commanding at Brunswick) now determined to return to the
     Raritan landing-place, with everything valuable, to prevent the
     rebels from destroying the bridge there. We accordingly marched
     back to the bridge, one-half on one side, the remainder on the
     other, for its defence, never taking off our accoutrements that

     On the 3d, Lord Cornwallis, hearing the fate of Princeton, returned
     to it with his whole force, but found the rebels had abandoned it,
     upon which he immediately marched back to Brunswick, arriving at
     break of day on the 4th. I then received orders to return to
     Sparkstown (Rahway?). Washington marched his army to Morristown and
     Springfield. At about the time I arrived at Sparkstown, a report
     was spread that the rebels had some designs upon Elizabethtown and
     Sparkstown. The whole regiment was jaded to death. Unpleasant this!
     Before day notice was brought to me by a patrol that he had heard
     some firing towards Elizabethtown, about seven miles off. I
     immediately jumped out of bed and directed my drums to beat to
     arms, as nothing else would have roused my men, they were so tired.
     Soon after this an express brought me positive orders to march
     immediately to Perth Amboy, with all my baggage. At between six and
     seven the rebels fired at some of my men that were quartered at two
     miles distance. I had before appointed a subaltern's guard for the
     protection of my baggage. This duty unluckily fell upon the
     lieutenant of my company, which left it without an officer, the
     ensign being sick at New York. I immediately directed my
     lieutenant, who was a volunteer on this occasion, to march with his
     guard, that was then formed, to the spot where the firing was,
     while I made all the haste I could to follow him with the

     The lieutenant came up with them and fired upwards of twelve
     rounds, when, the rebels perceiving the battalion on the march, ran
     off as fast as they could. Had I pursued them I should perhaps have
     given a good account of them.

The company baggage-wagon was, however, carried off by the Americans,
driver and all. The garrison got to Perth Amboy that night.
Elizabethtown was evacuated at the same time. The narrative goes on to

     The only posts we now possess in the Jerseys are Paulus Hook, Perth
     Amboy, Raritan Landing, and Brunswick. Happy had it been if at
     first we had fixed on no other posts in this province....
     Washington's success in this affair of the surprise of the Hessians
     has been the cause of this unhappy change in our affairs. It has
     recruited the rebel army and given them sufficient spirit to
     undertake a winter campaign. Our misfortune has been that we have
     held the enemy too cheap. We must remove the seat of war from the
     Jerseys now on account of the scarcity of forage and provisions.

The writer shows the wholesome impressions his friends were under in
this closing remark: "The whole garrison is every morning under arms at
five o'clock to be ready for the scoundrels."

In New York great pains were taken to prevent the truth about the
victories at Trenton and Princeton from getting abroad. False accounts
of them were printed in the newspapers, over which a strict military
censorship was established; but in spite of every precaution enough
leaked out through secret channels to put new life and hope in the
hearts and minds of the long-suffering prisoners of war.

It was one of the misfortunes of this most extraordinary campaign that
every blow Washington had struck left his army exhausted. After each
success it was necessary to recuperate. It was now being reorganized in
the shelter of its mountain fastness, strengthened by a simultaneous
uprising of the people, who now took the redress of their wrongs into
their own hands. No foraging party could show itself without being
attacked; no supplies be had except at the point of the sword. A host of
the exasperated yeomanry constantly hovered around the enemy's advanced
posts, which a feeling of pride alone induced him to hold. Putnam was
ordered up to Princeton, Heath to King's Bridge, so that Howe was kept
looking all ways at once. Redoubts were thrown up at New Brunswick,
leading Wayne to remark that the Americans had now thrown away the spade
and the British taken it up. Looking back over the weary months of
disaster the change on the face of affairs seems almost too great for
belief. From the British point of view the campaign had ended in utter
failure and disgrace. In England, Edward Gibbon says that the Americans
had almost lost the name of rebels, and in America Sir William Howe
found that he had to contend with a man in every way his superior.


American Army, 12, 17 _note_;
  marches to N. York, 12;
  its efficiency, 14;
  weakened by detachments, 19, 24 _note_;
  reënforced, 19, 20;
  effectives in summer of 1776, 22, 24 _note_;
  defeated at L. Island, 29;
  losses there, 31;
  how posted after the battle, 31, 32;
  driven from N. York, 39;
  fights at White Plains and Fort Washington, 40;
  losses there, 41;
  is divided into two corps, 44;
  dissension in, 49 _note_;
  reduced numbers, 50;
  summary of losses, 52, 53;
  reaches the Delaware, 57;
  in position there, 75;
  is reënforced, 79;
  time expiring, 80;
  reënlistments, 97.

Bedford, L. I., seized by British, 27.

Bordentown, occupied by British troops, 71, 72;
  evacuated, 95.

British Army of subjugation, 23;
  by regiments, 25 _note_;
  takes the field, 27;
  drives the Americans from L. Island, 27 _et seq._;
  in winter quarters, 72, 76.

Brooklyn Heights fortified, 20, 24 _note_;
  outer defences, 26;
  turned by British, 27, 28.

Cadwalader, Col. John, 80, 87 _note_;
  fails to get his troops across the Delaware, 83;
  succeeds better in a second attempt, 94;
  and occupies Bordentown, 95.

Clinton, Gen. Sir Henry, at N. York, 34;
  moves to Throg's Neck, 36;
  captures Newport, R. I., 70.

Cornwallis, Gen. Lord, surprises Fort Lee, 45;
  is reënforced, 55;
  pursues Washington, 55, 56, 57, 58 _note_;
  is unable to follow him beyond Trenton, 62, 67 _note_;
  has leave of absence, 71;
  hastens back to Trenton, 97;
  makes a forced march back to N. Brunswick, 106.

Declaration of Independence, read to the army, 23.

Donop, Col. Count, 72, 75;
  abandons Bordentown, 95.

Ewing, Gen. James, 83, 87 _note_.

Fort Lee, 24 _note_;
  evacuated, 45, 49 _note_.

Fort Washington, built, 21, 24 _note_;
  assault and capture of, 40, 41, 42 _note_.

Gates, Gen. Horatio, brings troops from Ticonderoga, 63, 67 _note_;
  refuses a command, 81.

Glover, Gen. John, at L. Island, 30;
  at Trenton, 85, 88 _note_.

Greene, Gen. Nathaniel, advises the holding of Fort Washington, 40;
  at Fort Lee, 45;
  heads a column at Trenton, 87.

Griffin, Colonel, moves into the Jerseys, 82.

Hale, Capt. Nathan, taken and hanged, 36.

Harlem Heights, the army headquarters, 32, and _note_.

Haslet, Col. John, at Princeton, 105.

Heath, Gen. Wm., put in command in the Highlands, 44, 96, 106 _note_.

Howe, Gen. Sir William, lands at L. Island, 26;
  his delays, 36;
  moves into Westchester, 39;
  fights at White Plains, 40;
  and takes Fort Washington, 40;
  inhumanity to prisoners by his permission, 52;
  plans for next campaign, 70;
  takes things easy, 71;
  roused by Washington's bold strokes, 97.

King's Bridge, importance of, to N. York, 20, 21;
  an outpost, 22, 24 _note_.

Kipp's Bay, landing-place of British, 34;
  account by an eye-witness, 34, 35.

Knox, Gen. Henry, improves the artillery service, 16, 17;
  at Trenton, 84, 85.

Lee, Gen. Charles, sent to N. York, 18 _note_;
  ineffectually urges evacuation of Fort Washington, 41;
  a rival of Washington, 41;
  gets a separate command, 44;
  moves to join Washington, 59;
  his equivocal attitude, 50, 60;
  his troops, 60, 67 _note_;
  is reënforced, 61;
  halts at Morristown, and is captured, 63;
  probable aims, 65.

Long Island, campaign opened at, 26;
  British plan of attack, 27;
  flank march, 27, 28; evacuated, 30.

McDougall, Gen. Alexander, at Morristown, 96.

Mercer, Gen. Hugh, at Princeton, 104, 105, 107 _note_.

Mifflin, Gen. Thomas, at Trenton, 98.

New Jersey, invaded, 50;
  apathy of people, 51;
  military situation in, 71;
  outrages perpetrated by the invaders, 77, 78;
  arouse the people, 78;
  mostly reconquered, 108, 112.

New York, the seat of war, 11;
  its strategic value, 13;
  defence determined upon, 13;
  how effected, 20 _et seq._;
  the city and island in 1776, 20;
  escapes bombardment, 30;
  dispositions for holding the city, 31, 32;
  evacuation ordered, 33;
  takes place, 34;
  partially burnt, 35.

North Castle, Washington retreats to, 40.

Percy, Gen. Lord Hugh, in command at Harlem, 36.

Philadelphia, critical situation there, 81.

Princeton, attacked by Washington, 103;
  losses at, 105.

Putnam, Gen. Israel, commands at Philadelphia, 81;
  sends a force into the Jerseys, 82, 88 _note_.

Rall or Rahl, Col., 72;
  alarm of an attack, 89, 93 _note_;
  fights bravely, and is mortally hurt, 91.

Reed, Joseph, 81, 87 _note_.

St. Clair, Gen. Arthur, at Princeton, 105.

Stark, Gen. John, at Trenton, 87, 106 _note_.

Sterling or Stirling, Lord (William Alexander), at Princeton, 62.

Sullivan, Gen. John, succeeds to command of Lee's corps, 64;
  leads a column at Trenton, 87.

Throg's Neck, British land at, 39, 42 _note_.

Trenton, occupied as a British outpost, 72;
  carried by assault, 89 _et seq._;
  fruits of victory, 91;
  an epoch in the war, 93;
  first abandoned, 93;
  then reoccupied, 96.

Washington, Gen., at N. York, 12;
  decides to act on the defensive, 18 _note_;
  stands on his dignity, 24;
  not in command at L. Island, 29;
  orders its evacuation, 30;
  moves to White Plains, 39;
  rights there, but has to fall back, 40;
  his dilemma, 43;
  decides to divide his force, 44;
  crosses into N. Jersey, 45;
  manoeuvring for delay, 50;
  rises above partisanship, 54;
  directs Lee to join him, 54, 55;
  retreats to Newark, 55;
  to New Brunswick, 56;
  troops leave him, 56;
  at Princeton, 57;
  admirable retreat, 57;
  crosses the Delaware, 62;
  determines on striking the British outposts, 79, 80;
  his plan, 82, 83;
  marches on Trenton, 83 _et seq._;
  carries Trenton by assault, but is obliged to recross the
    Delaware, 91, 92;
  but reoccupies Trenton, 96;
  takes post there, 98;
  steals a march on Cornwallis, 101, 107 _note_;
  fights at Princeton, 103;
  personal gallantry, 104;
  marches to Somerset C. H., 106.

White Plains, Washington concentrates at, 39, 42 _note_;
  action at, 40.

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