Chapter 12

Not long afterward, however, the barbarians had an opportunity of treating him with less respect. It was in the month of August of this year that he was engaged with a reconnoitring party in company with the partisan Rogers, near Ticonderoga. They had been employed in watching the movements of the enemy, and were on their return to Fort Edward when the attention of the French partisan officer, Molang, who was on the lookout, was attracted to them by a careless shooting-match between Rogers and a fellow British officer. A confused hand-to-hand action ensued in the woods, in the course of which Putnam, his gun missing fire, "while the muzzle was pressed against the breast of a large and well-proportioned savage," was captured and bound to a tree by that formidable personage. The English party now rallying, drove their pursuers backward, which brought the unfortunate Putnam to a central position between two fires. "Human imagination," well says Colonel Humphreys, "can hardly figure to itself a more deplorable situation." Putnam remained more than an hour deprived of all power save that of hearing and vision, as the musket-balls whizzed by his ears and a ruthless savage aimed his tomahawk repeatedly, with the infernal dexterity of a Chinese juggler, within a hair's breadth of his person. This amusement was succeeded by the attempt of a French petty-officer to put an end to his life by discharging his musket against his breast. It happily missed fire. The action was now brought to an end in favor of the Provincials; but Putnam was carried off in the retreat by his Indian captor. He was now destined to witness one of those scenes, since so well described by Cooper, of the peculiar tortures inflicted by the Indians upon their prisoners in war; but unhappily with less complacent feelings than the reader of the skilful novelist experiences, whose terrors are tempered by the delightful art of the narrator. With Putnam the spectator and the sufferer were the same. He has been bound on the march with intolerable thongs, he has almost perished under his burdens, he has been tomahawked in the face; he is now to be roasted alive. A dark forest is selected for the sacrifice; stripped naked, he is bound to a tree, and the inflammable brushwood piled around him. Savage voices sound his death-knell. Fire is applied, when a sudden shower dampens the flame, to burst forth again with renewed strength. Though securely fastened, the limbs of the victim are left some liberty to shrink from the accursed heat. He has thought his last thought of home, of wife and children, when the desperate French partisan, Molang, the commander of the savage hordes, hearing of the act, rushes upon the scene and rescues him from his tormentors. Putnam is now restored to the guardianship of the Indian chief by whom he had been captured, and from whom he was separated during these hours of agony, when he had fallen into the hands of the baser fellows of the tribe. The party now reach Ticonderoga, where Putnam is delivered to Montcalm, and thence courteously conducted by a French officer to Montreal.

There he found himself within reach of a benevolent American officer, then a prisoner in the city, Colonel Peter Schuyler, who generously ministered to his necessities, and who was instrumental in procuring his release from the French commander, when he himself was exchanged after the capture of Frontenac. Putnam, on his return home, gallantly conducted through the wilderness the sorely tried Mrs. Howe and her children, whose adventures in Indian captivity and among the French, equal the inventive pages of romance.

The next year, in Amherst's great campaign, Putnam returned to Montreal under better auspices. He was with that commander in his onward movement, with the rank of lieutenant-colonel, and rendered efficient service in the passage down the St. Lawrence, by his bravery and ingenuity. When the fort of Oswegatchie was to be attacked, and two armed vessels were in the way, he proposed to silence the latter by driving wedges to hinder the movement of their rudders, and to cross the abatis of the fortification by an attack from boats, armed with long planks, which were to be let down when the vessels, protected by fascines, were placed alongside of the work. A timely surrender anticipated both of these expedients. The dying Wolfe had conquered Canada at Quebec, making victory easy elsewhere in the province. Montreal surrendered to the allied forces without a blow. Putnam, it is recorded, availed himself of the opportunity to look up the Indian chief who had taken him prisoner, and exchange civilities and hospitalities, now that the tables were turned.

We next find Putnam in charge of a Connecticut regiment, in a novel field of warfare, on the coast of Cuba, in Lord Albemarle's attack upon Havana, in 1762. He was in considerable danger in a storm, when the transport in which he embarked with his men was wrecked on a reef of the island; a landing was effected by rafts, and a fortified camp established on the shore. He was again fortunate in escaping the dangers of a climate so fatal to his countrymen. On his return home, he was engaged in service against the Indians, with the title of colonel. The war being now over, he retired to his farm, which he continued to cultivate till he was again called into the field by the stirring summons of Lexington.

In the preliminary scenes of the war, he fairly represented the feeling of the mass of his countrymen, as it was excited by the successive acts of parliamentary aggression. As a soldier of the old French war, he had learned the weakness of British officers in America, and the strength of a hardy, patriotic peasantry. "If," he said, "it required six years for the combined forces of England and her colonies to conquer such a feeble colony as Canada, it would, at least, take a very long time for England alone to overcome her own widely extended colonies, which were much stronger." Another anecdote is characteristic of the blunt farmer. Being once asked whether he did not seriously believe "that a well-appointed British army of five thousand veterans could march through the whole continent of America," he replied, "no doubt, if they behaved civilly, and paid well for everything they wanted; but--if they should attempt it in a hostile manner, though the American men were out of the question, the women, with their ladles and broomsticks, would knock them all on the head before they had got half way through."

The news of Lexington--the war message--transmitted from hand to hand till village repeated it to village, the sea to the backwoods, "found the farmer of Pomfret, two days after the conflict, like Cincinnatus, literally at the plough." He unyoked his team and hastened in his rude dress to the camp. Summoning the forces of Connecticut, he was placed at their head, with the rank of Major-General, and stood ready at Cambridge for the bloody day of Bunker's Hill. He was in service in May, in the spirited affair checking the British supplies from Noddle's Island, in Boston Harbor, and resolutely counselled the occupation of the heights of Charlestown. When the company of Prescott went forth on the night of June 16th, to their gallant work, he was with them, taking no active command, but assisting where opportunity served. He was seen in different parts of the field, but his chief exertions appear to have been expended upon the attempted fortification of Bunker's Hill, where he met the fugitives in the retreat, and conducted "such of them as would obey him," says Bancroft, to the night's encampment at Prospect Hill.

Putnam's was one of the first Congressional appointments, ten days before the battle, when the rank of Major-General was conferred upon him. He continued to serve at the siege of Boston, and when the theatre of operations was changed by the departure of the British to New York, was placed by Washington, in 1776, in command in that city until his own arrival. He employed himself during this short period, with several devices for the safety of the harbor. In August, on the landing of Howe, he was, upon the sudden illness of Greene, who had directed the fortifications, and after the arrival of the British, left in command at the battle of Long Island, and much censure has been thrown upon him for the neglect of the passes by which the American left was turned. In the actual combat there appears to have been a divided authority.

The abandonment of New York next followed, with the retreat to Westchester and the passage through the Jerseys. Putnam was then, in January, 1777, ordered to Philadelphia to make provision for its defence. In May, he was put in command of the post at the Highlands, to secure its defences, and observe, from that central position, the movements of the enemy. In the summer of this year, Sir Henry Clinton, at New York, sent up the river a flag of truce to claim one Edmund Palmer, who had been taken in the American camp, as a lieutenant in the British service. This drew forth from Putnam a reply which has been often quoted:

"HEADQUARTERS, August 7, 1777.

"Edmund Palmer, an officer in the enemy's service, was taken as a spy lurking within our lines; he has been tried as a spy, condemned as a spy, and shall be executed as a spy, and the flag is ordered to depart immediately.

"ISRAEL PUTNAM.

"P.S.--He has been accordingly executed."

In September, a portion of Putnam's command was withdrawn by Washington for the support of the army in Pennsylvania, by a peremptory order which, it is said, put an end to a plan formed by Putnam for a separate attack on the enemy at New York. Forts Montgomery and Clinton, at the entrance to the Highlands, fell into the hands of Clinton by a surprise shortly after, but the conquest of this important position was neutralized by the victory of Gates, at Saratoga. The British remained at Fort Montgomery but twenty days. Putnam seems still to have entertained some project in connection with New York, which led him to withhold troops called for by the imperious necessities of Washington. The neglect of these orders brought a pointed letter from Hamilton, and an equally significant rebuke from Washington himself. In the following spring, Putnam was relieved of his command in the Highlands by the appointment of General McDougal to the post, and was ordered to Connecticut to superintend the raising of the new levies. He was stationed the following winter at Danbury, when the famous descent of the precipice at Horse Neck occurred, one of the latest marvels of Putnam's anecdotical career. While he was on a visit to one of his outposts at Horse Neck, Governor Tryon of New York, advanced upon the place with a considerable body of troops. Putnam planted his small force on the hill, but was speedily compelled to provide for the safety of his men by a retreat, and for his own, by plunging down a formidable rocky steep by the roadside.

In 1779, he was again in the Highlands, superintending the defences then erected at West Point, one of which, the fort now in ruins, bore his name. In the winter, he visited his family in Connecticut, and as he was returning to the army, at Morristown, was struck with paralysis. His right side was enfeebled, and his active career ceased, though he enjoyed the cheerful, tranquil pursuits of age. His memory remained unimpaired. One of his amusements was to relate to his friend and military companion, Colonel Humphreys, those events of his varied life, which that officer wrought into the pleasing narrative appropriately addressed to the State Society of the Cincinnati in Connecticut, and published by their order. The dedication of the work to Colonel Jeremiah Wadsworth, bears date June 4, 1788, about two years before the decease of the hero of the story. General Putnam died at Brookline, Conn., May 29, 1790, in his seventy-third year.

ANTHONY WAYNE[4]

By O. C. BOSBYSHELL

(1745-1796)

[Footnote 4: Copyright, 1894, by Selmar Hess.]

Across the pages of history recording mighty conflicts that rock nations and governments to their foundations, flash certain grand characters whose career adds a charm to the dreary and often prosaic narrative. Some bright particular star, whose lustre flings romance over dry facts, firing the hearts of all patriots with enthusiasm and national fervor. Honoring the great commanders of the wars of the ages for their noble deeds, here and there sparkles out the brilliant genius of a warrior with less responsibility, but whose name inspires the ardor of men, the love of women, and the fervor of the poet and novelist. Such a character, such a man, was "Mad" Anthony Wayne, an able, fearless soldier of the American Revolution, so thoroughly patriotic such an earnest, honest believer in the righteous cause for which he fought, that he was mad indeed with all found arrayed against the interests of the Colonists, or with those who, having donned the Continental uniform, were indisposed to fight.

Anthony Wayne was born in Waynesborough, Easttown Township, Chester County, Penn., on January 1, 1745. He sprang from good English stock. His grandfather resided in Yorkshire, England, but during the reign of Charles II. purchased an estate in the County Wicklow, Ireland, and settled on it. Being a thorough Protestant he espoused the cause of King William III., and in the service of that monarch fought in the Battle of the Boyne, as a captain of dragoons. In 1722 he came to America with his four sons, and procured some one thousand six hundred acres of land in Chester County, Penn., upon which he settled in 1724. His youngest son, Isaac, the father of Anthony Wayne, received as his share of his father's estate five hundred acres of land near Paoli. Born and brought up amid the charming surroundings of this most beautiful country, it is easily understood why Anthony Wayne became so thoroughly imbued with tastes for the beautiful. His neatness in dress, and earnest advocacy of a brilliant uniform for the officers and men of the Revolutionary Army, had its foundation in the very atmosphere he lived in, this magnificent Chester Valley. "Dandy" Wayne indeed, but only so far as neatness in dress and delicacy of taste were concerned, for a nobler-minded, more unselfish patriot never entered the army of a nation. Wayne was educated at the Philadelphia Academy, and he became a surveyor of some note. He attended closely, however, to his magnificent farm, and took a lively interest in all affairs affecting his fellow-citizens. In 1765 and 66, only just of age, he was sent to Nova Scotia to survey some lands belonging to Benjamin Franklin and others.

In May, 1766, he married Mary, the daughter of Bartholomew Penrose, a Philadelphia merchant, and settled down to the life of a farmer. He was a stirring man in his neighborhood, fond of an active and out-door life. He was filled with military impulses; his choice of a profession, that of surveyor, evidently arose from his taste for exploration, and for the excitement incident to plunging into trackless wastes of forests and mapping out new boundaries. His love of military pursuits led him to study all the great works on the art of war, and when the time came he was prepared, as few soldiers of the revolution were, for the conflict with the trained soldiers of Great Britain. He formed companies with the men in his neighborhood, and drilled them assiduously. This gave him prominence and popularity, so that he is found a member of the Pennsylvania Legislature in 1774-75. Wayne seemed to have prescience of what was coming, and when the conflict came he was ready. In September, 1775, he raised a regiment of soldiers, of which he became the colonel in the January following, and joined General Sullivan's command in Canada in the spring of 1776. At the battle of Three Rivers, May, 1776, Wayne displayed remarkable military knowledge, and was enabled to extricate his command from difficulties that seemed almost insurmountable. In a letter to Dr. Franklin and others he gives a graphic description of this engagement. Of his men engaged he says, "I have lost more than the one-quarter part, together with a slight touch in my right leg, which is partly well already." This was Wayne's first battle. He displayed such remarkable coolness and excellent judgment throughout this engagement, as to command the respect and admiration of all in the army; his entire career during this unfortunate Canadian campaign exhibited clearly his soldierly qualifications. Recognizing these, General Schuyler, in November, 1776, appointed Colonel Wayne to the command of Fort Ticonderoga and Mt. Independence, which military post Wayne considered the second most important in the country. While stationed here, Wayne busied his men in rendering the place as nearly impregnable as possible, and by warm, fervid letters implored the "powers that be" in Pennsylvania, to send proper clothing, food, and arms to the men of that State serving in his army. So negligent did the State seem to the needs of its men, that this warm-hearted, high-spirited warrior, seriously thought of resigning his commission, being unable to longer witness the impoverished condition of his troops.

Colonel Wayne was appointed Brigadier General in February, 1777, and ordered to join General Washington's army at Morristown, N. J., in April of the same year. He was given command of the "Pennsylvania Line" consisting of two brigades of four regiments each, with a total strength of about 1,700 men. His activity and alertness during the summer, in harassing and annoying the enemy, went far toward ridding the State of that enemy, and gained for him the praise of Washington, who publicly acknowledged his "bravery and good conduct." The British, unable to force their way through New Jersey, determined to go around by sea to Philadelphia, and after embarking at Staten Island were next heard from within the Chesapeake Bay. Washington moved his army to Wilmington, Wayne having been sent ahead to organize the militia rendezvousing in Chester County, Penn. He rejoined the army at Germantown and marched with it to Wilmington.

In the battle of Brandywine, September 11, 1777, Wayne was particularly distinguished. He occupied the left of the American line at Chad's Ford, and had opposed to his forces, the Hessians commanded by Baron von Knyphausen. He fought all day, holding his ground tenaciously, repelling every effort made by the enemy to cross the ford and worrying them by repeated attacks of his light infantry, which he frequently sent over the creek for the purpose. The right wing of the enemy having been turned, Wayne, at sunset, retreated in good order, without the loss of any artillery or stores. On the evening of September 20th, Wayne, with a detachment of twelve hundred men, was suddenly and impetuously attacked at Paoli Tavern by a very large force of the rear guard of the British army, which rear guard he had been sent to annoy. By the betrayal of Tory spies at the time of the attack, the forces "were not more than ten yards distant." Notwithstanding the impetuosity of the attack, by largely overwhelming numbers, Wayne succeeded in extricating his command without loss of artillery, ammunition, or stores. Some sixty-one Americans were killed. A court of inquiry was instituted to inquire into Wayne's conduct of this affair, which resulted so distastefully to him that he demanded a court martial. This court acquitted "him with the highest honors," a conclusion approved by General Washington.

Wayne's residence was searched by the British immediately after the Paoli fight, with the hope of capturing the general. The officer, in his zeal, ripped open a feather-bed with his sword. Mrs. Wayne indignantly exclaimed, "Did you expect to find General Wayne in a feather-bed? Look where the fight is the thickest!"

Wayne led the right wing at the battle of Germantown, October 4, 1777, and forced the enemy back a distance of two miles. The British claim that "this was the first time we had ever retreated from the Americans." The balance of the army, failing to accomplish the end desired, Wayne was compelled to retreat, but this he did in good order, and when General Howe, who "could not persuade himself that we had run from victory," as Wayne puts it, followed the Americans, Wayne drew up in line. "When he advanced near we gave him a few cannon shot with some musketry--which caused him to break and run with the utmost confusion." Wayne lost a horse in this engagement, and received slight wounds in the hand and foot. The memorable winter at Valley Forge followed. General Wayne, ever active, devoted his time to procuring necessary supplies for the army. His earnest appeals to the State authorities and men of influence, for the welfare of the brave men at Valley Forge, tell a tale of suffering and endurance hard to realize. Early in the spring of 1778 he successfully raided the British lines, carrying off horses, cattle, forage, and other supplies. After the evacuation of Philadelphia, Wayne kept up a constant annoyance around the rear of the British army, fighting whenever the opportunity came.

The American army re-entered New Jersey in June, 1778, and moved across that State in a line parallel with the route taken by the British army. These lines encountered each other on June 28th, at Monmouth; an engagement fought, in the main, on a plan suggested to General Washington by General Wayne. General Charles Lee's half-hearted action, to call it no more severe name, resulted in the battle of Monmouth being less of a disaster to the British army than it promised. Wayne did his part gloriously. Lee, who with his own command was in full retreat when he should have earnestly supported Wayne, ordered Wayne to retire. This the latter did, chagrined and mortified, until the mortification was turned into delight upon meeting the Commander-in-Chief, who immediately ordered Wayne to advance to the attack again. This was just what Wayne wanted, and with three Pennsylvania regiments, one from Maryland, and one from Virginia, he stayed the assaults of the flower of the English army, the _corps d'elite_, and successfully held his line, causing the enemy to retire with great loss. General Washington commended General Wayne in the highest terms for his "good conduct and bravery through the whole action." Writing of this engagement to the Secretary of War, Wayne says, "Tell the Phila ladies that the heavenly, sweet, pretty red coats--the accomplished Gent-n of the Guards and Grenadiers have humbled themselves on the plains of Monmouth."