Part 20

The military force of General Gage in Boston was increased to such an extent that he soon exhausted his supplies. For relief, he sent out small foraging parties secretly, to seize and appropriate whatever they could lay their hands upon. Hearing that there was a magazine of supplies at Concord, on the night of April 18, 1775, he sent out eight hundred picked men, under the command of Lieutenant-Colonel Smith, to destroy it. By some means Dr. Warren of Boston learned of General Gage's intentions, and, by a previously concerted signal, gave the alarm. A light in the steeple of the Old North Church was the signal to certain patriots that the people must be called to arms.

A courier on horseback dashed away from Charlestown, at breakneck speed, to give the alarm to the sleeping inhabitants of villages between that place and Concord. At the top of his voice he cried, to startle the minute-men from their beds, "The regulars are coming!"

Certain leading patriots on the way must be aroused and told the story of their danger. So, with a furious pound upon their door, and the wild cry, "The regulars are coming!" the heroic patriots were routed from their beds.

At Lexington Mrs. Harrington, a brave and trusty heroine, heard the midnight cry, and she sprang from her bed, ran to the chamber door, and shouted to her son, who was a minute-man, "John, get up! The regulars are coming!"

By the time day-light began to dawn, the minute-men were in arms, and the whole region round about was fired with the courage and enthusiasm of men resolved to be free or die. When the British troops reached Lexington at five o'clock on the morning of April 19, they found a hundred minute-men drawn up in battle array. Major Pitcairn rode up to them, and shouted:

"Disperse, you rebels! Throw down your arms and disperse!"

His order was followed by a volley of musketry right into the faces of the Lexington soldiers, killing four and wounding several others. The minute-men dispersed, and the British troops hurried on to Concord. Here they met with an unexpectedly hot reception by several hundred minute-men, who had come through the darkness to defend their supplies and the town. Every hour their number increased by the accession of heroes, who came from even twenty miles away to meet the foe.

The British commander was forced to order a retreat, in which his army suffered even more than it did in the battle. The minute-men, from behind trees, houses, barns, and stone walls, picked off the red-coats, so that when the invaders reached Lexington, on their retreat, they were exhausted, depleted, and disheartened. But for the arrival of reinforcements under Lord Percy, the Yankees would have killed or captured Colonel Smith and all his force.

Notwithstanding Colonel Smith was reinforced by "sixteen companies of foot, a corps of marines, and two pieces of artillery," the retreat was continued. All the way from Lexington to Boston, minute-men, who lived remote from the route, and heard the startling news too late to hurry to Concord, annoyed the retreating army by pouring the contents of their muskets into their ranks from covert places where they concealed themselves for bloody work. When the British reached Charlestown, they had sustained a loss of sixty-five killed, one hundred and eighty wounded, and twenty-eight prisoners. The Americans lost fifty killed and thirty-four wounded.

That was the opening of the Revolutionary War, in which independence was achieved. On that nineteenth day of April, 1775, was fired the first gun which, John Adams said, "was heard around the world." From that moment Americans armed themselves, and an army of defence was hastily rallied at Cambridge. The Assembly of Massachusetts was in session at the time, and voted to raise thirteen thousand men in the Colony, and ask the other New England Colonies to increase the number to thirty thousand. There was scarcely any need of such action by the Legislature, however, for the patriotism of the people was unbounded. The Concord fight obliterated the last vestige of apathy, and drew forth a spirit of heroism before unknown. From every quarter men rushed to arms voluntarily, ready to sacrifice even life in the common cause. As an example of the unparalleled devotion to the country, Israel Putnam of Connecticut was ploughing in the field when the news of the Concord fight reached him. Without stopping to go to his house, he jumped upon the back of his horse, instructed his son to carry the intelligence to his mother, and galloped away to join the troops at Cambridge. With such courage and patriotism Americans rallied for the defense of the country, coming even from the most distant hamlets of New England.

The second American Congress met in Philadelphia about four weeks after the battle of Concord. Washington was in his seat promptly, wrought up to the highest pitch of determination in the cause of liberty. He had just come from a convention in Virginia, in which Patrick Henry stirred the hearts of all true patriots by one of his indescribable harangues for the American cause, in which he closed with the memorable words:

"We must fight! I repeat it, sir, we must fight! An appeal to arms and to the God of hosts is all that is left us!"

In that deep and solemn conviction Washington met his associates in the second Congress at Philadelphia. What were his opinions regarding the situation at that time may be learned from his familiar conversation with John Adams:

"The decisive blow is struck," remarked Adams; "the Concord fight has made our duty plain."

"It could not possibly be made plainer," replied Washington, "and the Concord fight must convince our oppressors that Americans will never yield to their domination."

"You are right in that view, Colonel Washington; the spirit of hostility to tyranny is grander than I dreamed of. It augurs well for the future."

"There is no alternative left to the Colonies," continued Washington; "the army of Great Britain has deliberately attacked us. The work of this Congress should be to create an army, and provide for defence."

"In the most liberal manner, too, for that only is patriotic," added Adams. "When Parliament resorts to belligerent measures against the remonstrances of Chatham, Burke, Barré, Pitt, and other worthies, we are justified in putting the worst construction upon their intentions."

"Nothing can be more obvious," responded Washington. "And the British troops must be expelled from Boston by force, or our American Colonies are reduced to a condition of vassalage. The army that precipitated the attack at Concord must be paid for the effrontery, or we are slaves."

"Without appealing again to the king?"

"Yes, without appealing again to his Majesty. Our appeals have been spurned. Our entreaties have been interpreted as the pleas of cowardice. Our patience has been regarded as pusillanimity. Because British oppression has been met by respectful remonstrance instead of indignant denunciation, it has appealed to arms; and that appeal must be promptly met by warlike preparations and the challenge to battle."

The second American Congress did send another appeal to the king, though not with the vote of Washington. It was an able, patriotic paper, setting forth the grievances of the Colonists in language that would have moved the hearts of friends to pity. At the same time, however, the members voted to put the Colonies upon a war basis. Many independent military companies had been organized in the Colonies within a few months; and these, by vote, were constituted the Continental Army, in connection with others to be raised. Three millions of dollars were appropriated for supplying arms and stores, and five hundred dollars a month for the salary of a commander-in-chief, to be elected.

The provincial army around Boston was gathered entirely from the New England Colonies, and was wholly without organization or discipline, a motley multitude of men, who left their homes and rushed to camp upon the impulse of patriotic sentiments. John Adams moved that Congress adopt that army, provide for its support, and elect for it a suitable commander. His speech on the occasion pointed so plainly to Washington as the man of all others for commander-in-chief, that the latter gentleman rose from his seat and left the hall. On the following day Washington was unanimously elected commander-in-chief of the Continental Army, a very unexpected honor to him.

With much diffidence, and his usual modesty, he arose in his seat to accept the appointment, and said:

"Though I am truly sensible of the high honor done me in this appointment, yet I feel great distress, from a consciousness that my abilities and military experience may not be equal to the extensive and important trust. However, as the Congress desire it, I will enter upon the momentous duty, and exert every power I possess in their service, and for the support of the glorious cause. I beg they will accept my most cordial thanks for this distinguished testimony of their approbation.

"But lest some unlucky event should happen, unfavorable to my reputation, I beg it may be remembered by every gentleman in the room that I this day declare, with the utmost sincerity, I do not think myself equal to the command I am honored with.

"As to pay, sir, I beg leave to assure the Congress, that, as no pecuniary consideration could have tempted me to accept this arduous employment at the expense of my domestic ease and happiness, I do not wish to make any profit from it. I will keep an exact account of my expenses; these, I doubt not, they will discharge, and that is all I desire."

His acceptance was received with enthusiastic applause, followed by a resolution, declaring that "they would _maintain_ and _assist_ him and _adhere_ to him with their _lives_ and _fortunes_ in the same cause."

The same Congress appointed Artemas Ward, Charles Lee, Philip Schuyler, and Israel Putnam major-generals; and Seth Pomeroy, Richard Montgomery, David Wooster, William Heath, Joseph Spencer, John Thomas, John Sullivan, and Nathaniel Greene brigadier-generals. Horatio Gates was appointed adjutant-general. These appointments were made with Washington's acquiescence, if not at his suggestion.

John Adams wrote to a friend: "There is something charming to me in the conduct of Washington; a gentleman of the first fortunes on the continent, leaving his delicious retirement, his family and friends, sacrificing his ease, and hazarding all in the cause of his country. His views are noble and disinterested. He declared, when he accepted the mighty trust, that he would lay before us an exact account of his expenses, and not accept a shilling pay."

XVII.

IN THE SIEGE OF BOSTON.

"There is no time to lose," remarked Adams to Washington. "Letters to me from Generals Warren and Ward insist that the undisciplined army cannot be kept together much longer without the aid of Congress; and Congress has done the best thing it could for the army in appointing you to its command."

"I shall lose no time in preparations to take command of the army," replied Washington. "I shall repair to Cambridge at once."

"Without returning to Mount Vernon?"

"Yes; that would consume too much time. Much as I should enjoy a visit home, I must forego the pleasure, and hasten to my command."

"A sacrifice, truly," remarked Adams.

"And one that both my wife and mother will appreciate," added Washington, "although the disappointment will be so great to them. Our country first, for the sake of our homes."

"True, very true; and it is a terrible necessity that makes it true," continued Adams. "War is serious business, and under its direful necessities you may never see your loved Mount Vernon again."

"No one can be more sensible of that than myself, but personal pleasure must yield to the demands of patriotism in such a crisis as this. Duty is the watchword now."

Without consuming time for more than the most hasty preparation, Washington started for Massachusetts, after penning the following tender letter to his wife. The epistle shows so much of his noble character that our narrative would be incomplete without it:

PHILADELPHIA, June 18, 1775.

MY DEAREST,--I am now set down to write you on a subject which fills me with inexpressible concern; and this concern is greatly aggravated and increased when I reflect upon the uneasiness I know it will give you. It has been determined in Congress that the whole army raised for the defence of the American cause shall be put under my care, and that it is necessary for me to proceed immediately to Boston to take upon me the command of it.

You may believe me, my dear Patsy, when I assure you in the most solemn manner, that, so far from seeking this appointment, I have used every endeavor in my power to avoid it, not only from my unwillingness to part with you and the family, but from a consciousness of its being a trust too great for my capacity, and that I should enjoy more real happiness in one month with you at home than I have the most distant prospect of finding abroad, if my stay were to be seven times seven years. But as it has been a kind of destiny that has thrown me upon this service, I shall hope that my undertaking it is designed to answer some good purpose. You might, and I suppose did, perceive, from the tenor of my letters, that I was apprehensive I could not avoid this appointment, as I did not pretend to intimate when I should return. That was the case. It was utterly out of my power to refuse this appointment without exposing my character to such censures as would have reflected dishonor upon myself and given pain to my friends. This I am sure could not, and ought not, to be pleasing to you, and must have lessened me considerably in my own esteem. I shall rely, therefore, confidently on that Providence which has heretofore preserved and been bountiful to me, not doubting but that I shall return safe to you in the fall. I shall feel no pain from the toil or the danger of the campaign; my unhappiness will flow from the uneasiness I know you will feel from being left alone. I therefore beg that you will summon your whole fortitude, and pass your time as agreeably as possible. Nothing will give me so much sincere satisfaction as to hear this, and to hear it from your own pen. My earnest and ardent desire is, that you would pursue any plan that is most likely to produce content and a tolerable degree of tranquility; and it must add greatly to my uneasy feelings to hear that you are dissatisfied or complaining at what I really could not avoid.

As life is always uncertain, and common prudence dictates to every man the necessity of settling his temporal concerns while it is in his power, and while the mind is calm and undisturbed, I have, since I came to this place (for I had not time to do it before I left home), got Colonel Pendleton to draft a will for me, by the directions I gave him, which will I now enclose. The provisions made for you in case of my death will, I hope, be agreeable. I shall add nothing more, as I have several letters to write, but to desire that you will remember me to your friends, and to assure you that I am, with the most unfeigned regard, my dear Patsy,

Your affectionate husband.

The preparation of his will is expressive of his thoughts and feelings at the time, and it magnifies, also, the sacrifice he was making for his country.

It will be noticed that the letter to his wife is dated June 18, the day after the battle of Bunker Hill. He knew nothing of that battle, of course; and the fact shows all the more how rapidly public affairs were hastening to a crisis.

It was the 23d of June when he left Philadelphia, and just before leaving he addressed another brief letter to his wife, that furnishes a key to his heart:

PHILADELPHIA, June 23, 1775.

MY DEAREST,--As I am within a few minutes of leaving this city, I could not think of departing from it without dropping you a line, especially as I do not know whether it will be in my power to write again until I get to the camp at Boston. I go fully trusting in that Providence which has been more bountiful to me than I deserve, and in full confidence of a happy meeting with you in the fall. I have not time to add more, as I am surrounded by company to take leave of me. I retain an unalterable affection for you, which neither time nor distance can change. My best love to Jack and Nelly, and regards to the rest of the family, concludes me, with the utmost sincerity,

Your entire GEO. WASHINGTON.

Two thousand troops had gathered in Philadelphia, and he reviewed them before leaving. The whole two thousand escorted him out of the city, and a company of light-horse escorted him to New York, together with Generals Lee and Schuyler.

Twenty miles from Philadelphia he was met by a courier on horseback, bringing particulars of the battle of Bunker Hill.

"How many Americans were engaged in it?" Washington inquired.

"About twelve hundred only."

"Who led them?"

"General Prescott."

"How many were killed?"

"About four hundred and fifty were killed and wounded. The British lost more than half of their men."

"What officers fell?"

"The brave General Warren was one."

"Did the men fight well?"

"Never braver men met a foe."

"Then the liberties of our country are safe," added Washington.

As grand a welcome as could possibly be given, without the burning of powder, was tendered by the Provincial Assembly of New York and New Jersey. They could burn no powder because the Colony possessed but four barrels, having forwarded a thousand barrels to Cambridge for the use of the army.

Washington left General Schuyler in command at New York and hastened forward to Cambridge, for at New York he received a more detailed account of the battle of Bunker Hill. This information caused him to hasten his journey; and he reached Watertown, where the Legislature was sitting, on the second day of July. That body gave him an enthusiastic welcome, and presented a lengthy address to him, in which they spread out the deplorable condition of the army, pledging their prompt aid in its organization and discipline.

On the third day of July he was escorted by an imposing cavalcade to Cambridge, four miles distant, to take immediate command of the army. Notwithstanding the scarcity of powder, his arrival was announced by salvos of artillery; and the sight of him, in his splendid bearing, drew from the admiring thousands the heartiest cheers. The general of whom they had heard so much even more than met their expectations, and their joy knew no bounds.

Washington wheeled his noble charger under the shadow of the "Great Elm," where he formally took command of the Continental Army, thereby making the tree historic to this day. He was forty-three years of age at that time.

Mrs. John Adams was in Cambridge when Washington arrived, and she wrote of him as follows:

"Dignity, ease, and complacency, the gentleman and the soldier look, agreeably blended in him. Modesty marks every line and feature of his face. These lines of Dryden instantly occurred to me:

"'Mark his majestic fabric! He's a temple Sacred by birth, and built by hands divine; His soul's the deity that lodges there, Nor is the pile unworthy of the God.'"

Washington found General Artemas Ward in command, who informed him that, "We have fourteen thousand five hundred men, including the sick."

"How many troops of the king hold Boston?" Washington inquired.

"About eleven thousand of the best disciplined troops that England could send over."

"And how many inhabitants of Boston are there in the city now?"

"Seventeen thousand; and it is said that they are treated as rebels, except the Tories, who support the cause of the Crown. General Gage is in command, and Generals Howe, Clinton, and Burgoyne arrived with their last reinforcements."

"Gage was with me twenty years ago in the expedition against Duquesne," said Washington. "Generals Howe, Clinton, and Burgoyne are the best generals the king can send, I suppose."

"I judge so. At any rate this army is a mob compared to the royal army in Boston. Very few of them were ever in the service before. They know nothing about order and discipline, and care as little."

"They must learn both as quickly as possible," responded Washington. "An army without discipline can be little more than a mob. My first step will be to bring the army under rigid military discipline."

Washington, accompanied by General Lee, took immediate measures to acquaint himself with the condition of the army, and in an incredibly short time had it distributed thus: The right wing was stationed on the heights of Roxbury, under the command of Major-General Ward; the left wing was stationed on Winter and Prospect Hills, in what is now the city of Somerville, under command of Major-General Lee; while the centre, under Major-General Putnam, occupied Cambridge. The army was thus distributed over a line of some twelve miles in length.

The army was destitute of clothing, ammunition, and nearly everything for its comfort. The mass of them were dressed as they were clad when they left their farms and work-shops, a dirty, ragged collection of armed men, though resolute and brave. Their cry against the king's troops in Boston was:

"Shut them up! Starve them out! Drive them into their ships, and send their ships out to sea!"

To add to the disheartening situation, Charlestown lay in ashes, having been set on fire by the enemy's shells at the battle of Bunker Hill; there were no well-constructed works throughout the whole line of fortifications; insubordination was popular among the troops, who called it _independence_; and still worse, jealousies prevailed among the troops of different Colonies.

The larger part of the army, nearly ten thousand, belonged to Massachusetts, and they were in the worst plight of all. Washington made the following magnanimous apology for them:

"This unhappy and devoted province has been so long in a state of anarchy, and the yoke has been laid so heavily on it, that great allowances are to be made for troops raised under such circumstances. The deficiency of members, discipline, and stores can only lead to this conclusion: _that their spirit has exceeded their strength_."

A British officer wrote home:

"The rebel army are in so wretched a condition as to clothing and accoutrements, that I believe no nation ever saw such a set of tatterdemalions. There are few coats among them but what are out at elbows, and in a whole regiment there is scarce a whole pair of breeches."

Nevertheless, the material for an army in such a crisis was good. The famous General Nathaniel Greene of Rhode Island organized three regiments in that province after the Concord fight, and he was there with his men, "the best disciplined and appointed troops in the army." Connecticut also raised a respectable force, and put them under the command of General Israel Putnam, who left his plough in the furrow, and galloped off to Boston; and they were there. The brave Colonel Stark of New Hampshire, with his "Green Mountain boys," was there also. Other officers of ability were doing all they could with an undisciplined army, while the rank and file were eager to drive the foe out of Boston. A leader like Washington was needed to organize and manipulate this rough mass of material. A chief like him, too, was indispensable to elevate their moral condition; for drunkenness, revelry, lewdness, profanity, gambling, not to mention other evils, abounded.

The following was Washington's first order to the army: