British officers to him, known in history as the "Meschianza." This chapter may well close with a passage from the manuscript diaries of William Ellery, now lying before me.

"On the glorious Fourth of July [1778], I celebrated in the City Tavern, with my brother delegates of Congress and a number of other gentlemen, amounting, in the whole, to about eighty, the anniversary of Independency. The entertainment was elegant and well conducted. There were four tables spread; two of them extended the whole length of the room, the other two crossed them at right angles. At the end of the room, opposite the upper table, was erected an Orchestra. At the head of the upper table, and at the President's right hand, stood a large baked pudding, in the centre of which was planted a staff, on which was displayed a crimson flag, in the midst of which was this emblematic device: An eye, denoting Providence; a label, on which was inscribed, ‘An appeal to Heaven;' a man with a drawn sword in his hand, and in the other the Declaration of Independency, and at his feet a scroll inscribed, 'The declaratory acts.' As soon as the dinner began, the music, consisting of clarionets, hautboys, French horns, violins, and bass-viols, opened and continued, making proper pauses, until it was finished. Then the toasts, followed by a discharge of field-pieces, were drank, and so the afternoon ended. In the evening there was a cold collation and a brilliant exhibition of fireworks. The street was crowded with people during the exhibition. . . .

"What a strange vicissitude in human affairs! These, but a few years since colonies of Great Britain, are now free, sovereign, and independent States, and now celebrate the anniversary of their independence in the very city where, but a day or two before, General Howe exhibited his ridiculous Champhaitre."

"MY

XII.

THE BIRTH OF A NATION.

Y lords," said the Bishop of St. Asaph's, in the British House of Lords, "I look upon North America as the only great nursery of freedom left upon the face of the earth." It is the growth of freedom in this nursery which really interests us most in the Revolutionary period; all the details of battles are quite secondary. Indeed, in any general view of the history of a nation, the steps by which it gets into a war and finally gets out again are of more importance than all that lies between. No doubt every skirmish in a prolonged contest has its bearing on national character, but it were to consider too curiously to dwell on this, and most of the continuous incident of a war belongs simply to military history. If this is always the case, it is peculiarly true of the war of American Independence, which exhibited, as was said by the ardent young Frenchman, Lafayette, "the grandest of causes won by contests of sentinels and outposts."

The Declaration of Independence was publicly read throughout the colonies, and was communicated by Washington in a general order, July 9, 1776,,with the following announcement: "The general hopes this important event will serve as an incentive to every officer and soldier to act with fidelity and courage, as knowing that now the peace and safety of his country depend (under God) solely on the success of our arms; and that he is now in the service of a State possessed of sufficient power to reward his merit and advance him to the highest honors of

a free country." Thus early did this far-seeing Virginian give his allegiance to the new government as a nation,—terming it "a State," "a free country;" not an agglomeration of States only, or a temporary league of free countries. And he needed for his encouragement all the strength he could gain from this new-born loyalty.

It was a gloomy and arduous year, the year 1776. The first duty now assigned to Washington was that of sustaining himself on Long Island and guarding New York. Long Island was the scene of terrible disaster; the forces under Putnam were hemmed in and cut to pieces (August 27th), making Greenwood Cemetery a scene of death before it was a place of burial. In this fatal battle 8000 Americans, still raw and under a raw commander (Putnam), were opposed to 20,000 trained Hessian soldiers, supported by a powerful fleet. Washington decided to retreat from Long Island. With extraordinary promptness and energy he collected in a few hours, from a range of fourteen miles, a sufficient supply of boats-this being done in such secrecy that even his aides did not know it. For forty-eight hours he did not sleep, being nearly the whole time in the saddle. He sent 9000 men, with all their baggage and field artillery, across a rapid river nearly a mile wide, within hearing of the enemy's camp: "the best conducted retreat I ever read of," wrote General Greene. Then began desertions, by companies and almost by regiments. They continued during all his memorable retreat through the Jerseys, when his troops were barefooted and disheartened, and yet he contested every inch of ground. At the beginning of his march he heard of the loss of Fort Washington (November 16th) with 2600 men, their ordnance, ammunition, and stores. The day before he crossed the Delaware the British took possession of Newport, Rhode Island, signalling their arrival by burning the house of William Ellery, who had signed the great Declaration.

Yet amid all these accumulated disasters Washington wrote to Congress that he could see "without despondency even for a moment" what America called her "gloomy hours." He could breathe more freely at last when, on December 8th, he crossed the Delaware at Trenton with what the discouraged. Reed had called "the wretched fragments of a broken army," now diminished to 3000 men. As his last boat crossed, the advanced guard of Howe's army reached the river, and looked eagerly for means of transportation. Washington had seized everything that could float upon the water within seventy miles.

On December 20, 1776, Washington told John Hancock, then President of the Congress, "Ten days more will put an end to the existence of our army." Yet at Christmas he surprised the Hessians at Trenton, recrossing the river and returning on his course with what was perhaps the most brilliant single stroke of war that he ever achieved. A few days later (January 3, 1777) he defeated Cornwallis at Princeton with almost equal ability; and all this he did with but 5000 men, one-half militia, the rest little more. During that year there had been in service 47,000 “Continentals" and 27,000 militia. Where were they all? These large figures had only been obtained through that system of short enlistments against which Washington had in vain protested-enlistments for three months, or even for one month. It is useless for this generation to exclaim against what may seem slowness or imbecility in the government of that day. Why, we ask, did they not foresee what the war would be? why did they not insist on longer enlistments? We have seen in our own time the uselessness of these questionings. Under popular institutions it is hard to convince a nation that a long war is before it; it is apt to be easily persuaded that peace will return in about sixty days; its strength is seen, if at all, in its reserved power and its final resources. The dawn of independence seemed overcast indeed when the campaign of 1776

closed, and Washington, with only three or four thousand men, went sadly into winter-quarters at Morristown.

66

In April, 1777, John Adams wrote proudly to his wife, Two complete years we have maintained open war with Great Britain and her allies, and, after all our difficulties and misfortunes, are much abler to cope with them now than we were at the beginning." The year that followed was in many respects the turning-point of the Revolution. The British had formed a plan which, had it been carried out, might have resulted in a complete triumph for them. It was a project to take thorough possession of the whole line of the Hudson-Burgoyne coming down from the North, Heath going up from the South-thus absolutely cutting the colonies in two, separating New England from the rest, and conquering each by itself. Happily this was abandoned for a measure that had no valuable results, the possession of Philadelphia. It is true that in the effort to save that city, Washington sustained defeat at Brandywine (September 11, 1777), and only came near victory, without achieving it, at Germantown (October 4th). But the occupation of Philadelphia divided the British army-now nearly fifty thousand soldiers-while the American army, though it had shrunk to about half that number, remained more concentrated. Moreover, the luxurious winter in Philadelphia did the invading troops little good; while the terrible winter at Valley Forge was in one sense the saving of the Americans. There they came under the influence of trained foreign officers-Pulaski and Steuben, as well as the young Lafayette. Baron Steuben especially took the hungry soldiers and taught them what drill meant. Heretofore there had been a different drill for almost every regiment —a whole regiment numbering sometimes but thirty men—and many of these retained the practice learned in Indian warfare, of marching in single file.

Meanwhile at the North there occurred successes for the American army, which grew directly out of the abandonment