I had by now somewhat recovered my health of mind, and was naturally curious to gaze upon the person of General George Washington, for whose patience, uprightness and courage the British army in general had conceived a great respect; though there were many who could not abide him for his part in condemning poor Major André to the rope. I espied him in the company of a group of high French officers, with whom, however, he was unable to converse in their own language. He was as plainly clothed as he was well mounted. His body was tall, but not stout, his face much pock-marked and with the largest eye-sockets I ever saw in a man. The expression was severe, as of one who has struggled successfully for many years against malice and disloyalty in his associates, and against the sins of pride and anger in himself.
CHAPTER XV
This surrender was to prove fatal to our cause in America, though we still had a quantity of troops stationed on that Continent, and though King George, who received the ill news with perfect composure, was for a continuance of the struggle at all events. Lord George Germaine resigned at last, which was something gained by the country he had so ill served, and was rewarded for his extraordinary services with a viscountcy. The universally detested Earl of Sandwich, alias Jemmy Twitcher, continued in office a few months longer. (His latter years were lonely, for two years before this he had lost his arrogant, greedy but devoted helpmeet, Miss Ray, whom a former lover of hers, the Reverend James Hackman, shot dead with a pistol at the door of Covent Garden Theatre.) The Ministry now declared that none but defensive operations could be conducted against the Americans, and in effect no engagement upon a grand scale was thereafter fought. The fact was, we were waging several important wars at the same time: with the Spaniards at Gibraltar and Minorca—with the massed hordes of India—with the Dutch in almost every sea and ocean of the world—with the French in the West India Islands and India, besides here in America. The poet William Cowper wrote truly and feelingly at this time:
Poor England! Thou art a devoted deer,
Beset with every ill but that of fear.
Thee nations hunt. All mark thee for a prey.
They swarm around thee, and thou standst at bay,
Undaunted still.
Moreover, the Armed Neutrality of Europe, a league consisting of Russia, Prussia, the Scandinavian and Baltic nations, Portugal, Turkey, and in fact nearly the whole of Europe, was opposed to us. These countries were banded together to resist by force the ‘brigandage and cupidity’ of our Navy, when we stopped and searched neutral vessels bringing munitions of war to our numerous foes.
The Opposition now howled for a complete withdrawal of all our forces from America, the better to preserve our own islands. Yes: and we might never have found ourselves in such a fix but for their leaders, who had put party interest before national honour. Careless of the lives of our poor fellows in America, they had secretly promoted the American cause by traitorous correspondence with Dr. Franklin and Mr. Silas Deane, as well as by false reports and libels printed in their scurrilous newspapers. Yet between politicians, who shall judge? Of the Tory leaders, most of those who were not merely idle and incompetent in their duties were downright evil. In Shakespeare’s phrase one might cry: ‘A plague on both your houses!’
It was truly grievous to perceive the style of exultation in which the party writers of the Opposition indulged on the capitulation of Lord Cornwallis. One of them, in direct terms, spoke of ‘the pride of Lord Cornwallis’. What pride? The very reverse was his Lordship’s true character. In this campaign (I declare these facts from my own knowledge) he fared like a common soldier. He assumed, he would admit of, no distinction, not even indulging himself in that of a tent. When a beloved officer is the object of viperous attack, it must rouse a resentment in the mind of every old soldier still living, who knows the contrary to be fact, which it is not very easy for military feeling to bear, or even for Christian forgiveness to pardon. Mr. Ramsay, too, has a very prettily manufactured tale on this occasion: ‘The door-keeper of Congress, an aged man, died suddenly, immediately after hearing of the capture of Lord Cornwallis’ army. His death was universally ascribed to a violent emotion of political joy.’ Mr. Ramsay strongly reminds me of a celebrated Republican preacher, in England, who had the impiety to take for his text the words of good old Simeon, ‘Lord now lettest thou thy servant depart in peace, for mine eyes have seen thy Salvation’, when he preached a sermon to celebrate the French Revolution!
It is interesting to recall that the American Revolution was the means of introducing into France novel ideas of independency, which, gaining a hold among the common people, proved fatal to the established Government. The young French officers of the Newport army who travelled about America and were entertained by a vigorous, hospitable and self-sufficient peasantry, impatient of Government, returned to Europe and there, with great enthusiasm, propagated philanthropical notions. Indeed, they lighted a train of gunpowder that blew their own magazine sky-high. Europe would have been spared thirty years of bloodshed, had these red-heeled young philosophers stayed at Court. It is said that Queen Marie Antoinette’s party had difficulty in forcing on the unfortunate King Louis XVI the treaty with America. Though not averse to depressing Britain, he regarded it as an unfair measure and, when asked to sanction it with his signature, threw away the pen. On repeated importunity, however, he relented and signed the instrument which was indirectly to prove the death-warrant for himself and his lovely young Queen. A large number of the high officers before whom we defiled (including the Duke de Lanzun) were before many years to die under the knife of Dr. Guillotine’s humane instrument or languish for years in prison; and among the rank and file were numerous men destined to be their judges, jailers and executioners.
The Spanish monarchy was likewise ruined by the same contagion and so served out for the part that it took against us.
Let me here append, as a curiosity, an extract from a speech delivered in Congress, when the news of our surrender arrived, by the famous Dr. Witherspoon, President of Nassau College at Princeton, and the first Classical scholar of America. I must, let me make clear, take exception to his severe and ungrateful attack upon General Washington, as also to his censure upon Admiral Sir Thomas Graves (who afterwards fought very gallantly under Admiral Howe at the Glorious First of June). In the Chesapeak fighting Sir Thomas did all that could have been expected of him; but he was unlucky. However, Dr. Witherspoon’s praise of Lord Cornwallis at least is not amiss, and I trust that the speech will not prove uninteresting as showing the disunion and uncertainty of American opinion at this time.
It is incumbent on us to thank Heaven for the victory which we have just obtained, and though over a handful of troops, yet they were flushed with success, and led on by a General, whose valour is no less illustrious than his discretion; by a General not equalled in courage by the Macedonian madman, or, in wise and solemn deliberation, by the Roman Fabius; nor has his defeat tarnished his fame; for he was encompassed about with a mighty host of the picked troops of France and America, aided by a formidable navy; and, to sum up his difficulties, he was attacked by famine in his camp.
It would be criminal in me to be silent on this occasion, which has diffused such joy in every breast. To procure America freedom and happiness has ever been my study, ever since I arrived among you; for this I have encountered a variety of hardships, and suffered not a little in my private fortune and reputation.
Now, gentlemen, since victory irradiates our arms, let us snatch this opportunity of securing to ourselves advantageous terms of peace; so shall we reap a profitable benefit from the example of all the wise states so eminent in history.
Some may think it very censurable, and highly derogatory to the dignity of this mighty Commonwealth to crouch and offer terms of peace, when we have been gathering such blooming laurels; but when we duly weigh all the circumstances of our overrated victory, the reasonableness of my advice may more fully appear to every dispassionate man.
Lord Cornwallis’s tro
ops had boldly marched through the heart of our country, opposed not only by woods, rivers and swamps, but also by all the force we could send against him, which was greatly superior to him in numbers; his whole army, I would say his foraging party (for it does not deserve the name of army) did not exceed four thousand; and, small as it was, it had spread universal dismay; it had struck terror even into General Washington’s camp, and wondrous to relate (!) brought that man of valour out of his lurking place (which it would seem he had taken a lease of) at the head of no less than thirteen thousand troops, whom he had been training to arms, and teaching to storm mock castles these three years, in a strong impregnable camp, where no enemy would ever think it worth while to disturb his slumbers, and so panic-struck was the American hero, that even with the great and formidable army under his command, would he not dare to attack an English foraging party; no, he must first be sure the French were before him with eight thousand of the gens d’armes, as a breastwork, to save his gallant troops, whose blood has ever been so precious to him. And to complete his safety, that thirty sail of the line-of-battle ships, manned with twenty-five thousand seamen (half of whom might act ashore) were within call of him. Heavens! Gentlemen, if every victory is to cost us so dear, if we must send into the field fifty thousand men before we can capture four thousand fatigued, half-starved English, we must view at a very remote distance, our so much wished for Independency: to bring this about if we go on as we have, for these long seven years, we ought to have more than all the wealth of all Mexico and Peru, and our women must bring forth four males at one birth. O dauntless spirit of immortal Cromwell, behold how enervated are thy descendants!
Gentlemen, trivial and contemptible as our success is, we got it by mere accident; we got it not by the vigilance of our allies, or the powers of our arms; we got it by the neglect or cowardice of the British Admiral, who would not, when he had the golden opportunity, take possession of the Chesapeak; and to this gross blunder alone are we to ascribe our fortune. But, gentlemen, although one commander has abandoned his post, and betrayed the best interests of his country, can we suppose that his guilt will not meet that severe and exemplary punishment it deserves? Can we hope that British vengeance will never wake, that it will always sleep? When that culpable Admiral is put to death, do you foolishly imagine his successor will not be alarmed for himself, and profit by his fate? Yes; he will exert himself, he will be master of the Chesapeak, upon which you know our destiny hangs; for if that is once shut up, Virginia and Maryland, the springs of all our resources, the objects which enticed your good and great ally to aid you, are no more! Then a few British soldiers may harass our planters, lay waste their lands, set their tobacco in flames, destroy their docks, and block up such ships as they cannot burn or capture.
It is a painful task, gentlemen, for me to set before your eyes a true picture of your affairs, but it is the duty of a friend. He who flatters you at this awful period smiles in your face while he stabs you in the vitals; it is by exhibiting to you such a picture, that you will be convinced you ought to send Commissioners to treat with Britain for peace, without a moment’s delay. Our enemies, I own, are surrounded with danger; a strong confederacy is in arms against them; yet although they possess but a speck of land, the fortitude of Britons, their exertions and supplies, have astonished the wondering world; they are by no means exhausted: they have hitherto asked for no alliance, they have singly and alone kept all their combined foes at bay. Britain has yet in store very tempting offers to hold out to any potentate whom she may court; she is mistress of our seaports; the large and fruitful colony of Canada is hers; her fleets have all arrived from Quebec, the Baltic, the West Indies and East Indies, without the loss of a ship; her arms in Asia have carried conquest before them; so long as they hold their dominions there, they will have a perennial source of riches. Such is the situation of our foe; but how much more terrible may she become, if she joins to her already resistless marine the fleet of another power!
Suffer me to use the words of the prophet Jeremiah, and ask you, ‘If thou hast run with footmen, and they have wearied thee, how then canst thou contend with horses?’ When your enemy has once made such an addition to her strength, she will rise in her terms upon you, and in the paroxysm of her fury insist upon your submission, your unconditional submission! In order that I may not displease some of you, who hold a man a traitor for telling you wholesome truths, I will suppose all I have said to be exaggerated; I will suppose Britain to be in a galloping consumption; then let me interrogate you. Do you increase in power and wealth? The very reverse is your case. Your maladies, I am sorry to tell you, are incurable. Where are your numerous fleets of merchant ships, which were wont to cover old Ocean? Have you so much as one to convoy your cargoes, or save them from capture? Have you any goods to export? Where are your luxuriant glebes and smiling meads? Alas! they are now an uncultivated waste. Your commerce is extinct; the premium of insurance on the very few ships which dare to peep out, never more to see their natal shore, so enormous, seamens’ wages so high (for nothing but death or an English dungeon is before them!) that ruin and bankruptcy have overwhelmed all descriptions of men; hardly any possess the conveniences, none the luxuries of life but faithless secretaries, avaricious commissaries, and griping contractors. These, indeed, loll in their coaches, live in princely palaces, have a numerous train of vermin to attend them, and fare sumptuously every day. ‘Curse on the wretch who owes his greatness to his country’s ruin!’
Would to God I could here draw a veil over our calamities! but the zeal I have to serve you will not allow it. I must thunder in your ears that your trade is annihilated; your fisheries, that fertile nursery of seamen, that fountain of all we could ever boast, are no morel Our ploughshares beat into bayonets, our soldiers mutinying for want of pay; our planters beggared, and our farmers ruined! You are oppressed with taxes; not to emancipate you from bondage—no, with taxes to support the lazy; to pamper the proud; to exalt mean, cunning knaves and dissipated gamblers to the first offices of the State, to pay armies who have the figures of men, but the hearts of hares; they are, God knows, numerous enough; but of what use? Why do we call in soup-meagre4 soldiers? Are our own cowards? Are they not disciplined after so many years dancing a jig to the fife and drum? Will they not look an enemy in the face when their religion, their liberty, is at stake; when their wives and children are butchered before their eyes?
O America! America! Thou art now ruined and past redemption, consigned to destruction! Curse on this French connexion! I see thee prostrate on the ground, imploring mercy at the feet of the Gallic monarch. If France conquers Britain (which, for your sakes, I pray God to prevent!) I tremble when I think of the accumulated miseries with which you will be loaded. The French have already cheated you out of Rhode Island from whence, as from a flaming volcano, will stream fire to burn your ships, and lay your seaports in smoking ruins. Methinks I see already the Canadians rush in upon your possessions in the North, and the French and Spaniards overrun your southern colonies! Like an impetuous torrent they sweep all before them! And even those of your own flesh and blood, whose lands you have confiscated, whose fathers and brothers you have murdered, join to lay you desolate! I see you turned into a desert, exposed to the ruthless elements, calling upon some hospitable roof to hide you from the storm! May Heaven save you from calamities, and dispose you to sue for peace! ‘Now is the appointed time; now is the day of salvation!’
CHAPTER XVI
My officers, made aware from my attention to the wounded after the battles of Camden and Guildford Court House that I was a surgeon of sorts, sent me over the river from York Town to the General Hospital at Gloucester, a town of not more than twenty houses, to supervise our wounded; for the Regimental Surgeon was sick. Captains Champagné and Apthorpe, as well as the junior officers, were very obliging when they bade me farewell; and professed their deep regret that sergeants could not, equally with themselves, be permitted to return to Europe on parole. The most affect
ing good-bye was spoken to me by the negro Jonah, whose condition as a slave inscribed him among the officers’ baggage which the terms allowed them to retain. He was to sail to England with them, as steward to their mess, by the next packet. When he learned that we were to be parted, he fell at my feet and blubbered. Said he: ‘Sarnt Lamb, massa, you be de best friend poor old black Jonah ebber hab. You done rescue me from de meat-house and make me mighty consequential military nigger. Jonah, him nebber forget darra good Sarnt Lamb, nebber find murrer like to him.’
Only Captain de Saumerez continued with the men of the Regiment, in order to protect them from abuses while in the quality of captives. They were now marched off with the rest of the troops to Winchester, in the back-country of Virginia.
I remained behind in the hospital at Gloucester for five weeks, by which time my wounded comrades had either succumbed to their wounds or were in a fair way to recover. Being sent back across the river one day I went to muse at the grave of poor Kate. It lay close to the entrance of the bomb-proof boudoir, which still remained handsomely furnished for her pleasure and that of Lord Cornwallis, and attracted numerous sightseers. I wished that the Quaker Jonah were there to pray with me: my heart was still stunned and mute.
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