While Washington rode eastward on March 2, a clerk wrote carefully across the Journal in Philadelphia: “The ratification of the Articles of Confederation being yesterday compleated by the accession of the State of Maryland. . . .” Washington knew, of course, that some sort of ceremony would attend Maryland’s ratification, but he had not been told when the documents were to be presented, and, had he been informed, he would not have expected an immediate change for the better. As his horse struggled with the mud of late winter, the sole question raised by the action of Maryland was whether the Articles of Confederation would help bring recruits to camp, bread and meat to the men, and full support to the French Admiral who soon was to show the fleur-de-lis again in Chesapeake Bay.
The party reached the Newport Ferry March 6 and went to the flagship, Duc de Bourgogne, where Rochambeau, Destouches and all the senior officers had assembled to welcome the Commander-in-Chief. After introductions, Washington went ashore, to the bark of a grand salute, and found that the French troops had been drawn up on either side of the route to Rochambeau’s quarters. Splendid soldiers they were, well uniformed and finely accoutred. The interest of the General, of course, was not in the warmth of the reception accorded him but in preparations for the departure of the French fleet. Destouches must be as far south of Newport as possible before Arbuthnot had word at Gardiner’s Bay that the French were weighing anchor. Everything was ready on the seventh, as Washington saw it, for Destouches to sail. Nothing happened. The next day the Fantasque ran aground, but Destouches sent word the vessel soon would be floated. About sunset, the French men-of-war sailed triumphantly out, the magnificence of the spectacle marred, in Washington’s eyes, by the delay in staging it. Three days thereafter the worst possible result seemed probable. Lookouts reported that on March 10 the British fleet had gone to sea with as much assurance as if Arbuthnot had the reckoning of Destouches’ flagship. The American commander no longer permitted himself to assume that the fleet from Rhode Island would get to Virginia before the British.
Washington’s return journey was by way of Lebanon. Over an exceedingly bad road he reached Headquarters March 20, but he found there no reports that relieved his anxiety. On the twenty-first he received word of the presence of Destouches’ squadron in Hampton Roads. Was it now too late? American spies and lookouts insisted a fleet of transports had left Sandy Hook March 13. These assuredly were being sent to Chesapeake Bay and, on arrival, would make Arnold dangerous again. Recent perils were redoubled. Virginia might be subjugated and Greene destroyed. Washington reminded himself, again and again, that “we ought not to look back, unless it is to derive useful lessons from past errors, and for the purpose of profiting by dear bought experience”; but this time, when he saw America’s affairs brought, as he said, “to an awful crisis,” he could not deny himself the reflection that great opportunity had come when the French vessels temporarily outnumbered the British. He did not wish his friends to think he had failed to urge the utmost be made of it, and he explained the circumstances when he answered communications from Philip Schuyler, Joseph Jones, William Fitzhugh and John Armstrong, though he carefully marked the paragraph “Private.” In a hasty letter to Lund Washington, he said somewhat awkwardly:
. . . this I mention in confidence, that the French Fleet and detachment did not undertake the enterprize they are now upon, when I first proposed it to them; the destruction of Arnolds Corps would then have been inevitable before the British fleet could have been in a condition to put to Sea. Instead of this the small squadron, which took the Romulus and other Vessels was sent, and could not, as I foretold, do anything without a Land force at Portsmouth.
For a man of cheerful self-mastery Washington’s mood was of the blackest when, on March 30, doubt over the outcome of the French naval expedition was removed. He learned that Destouches and Arbuthnot had met off the Virginia Capes on the sixteenth, engaged for an hour and then broken off an action neither seemed anxious to press. Although the advantage, except in casualties, was on the side of Destouches, he had decided that the British could outsail his fleet, could get into the Chesapeake before him, and that, therefore, it seemed best to return to Newport. Details were reported within a few hours after the first news. French leaders were anxious to convince Washington that Destouches did his utmost. Next time, they said, he might have better luck.
Anxiety for Destouches’ fleet had been matched by anxiety over Greene. As early as March 15 it had been known that Greene defiantly had recrossed the Roanoke River and had a somewhat less gloomy prospect, though he was weaker than some members of Congress were inclined to think. At last, on March 31, Washington received a brief dispatch from him, with a copy of a report the commander of the Southern Department had sent Congress regarding a battle with Cornwallis at Guilford Court House, North Carolina, on the fifteenth. In a hot action, British discipline and persistence had driven Greene from the position he had chosen, but he had inflicted losses that would burden British adversaries who had destroyed their wagons and had little equipment with which to care for their wounded. Some leaders, hearing this encouraging news, applied Pyrrhus’s lament to Cornwallis: another such victory and he would be undone. Washington was more cautious in his judgment. He held to his belief that the troops who recently had sailed from New York had been dispatched to reenforce Cornwallis. They now were said to be fifteen to sixteen hundred in number, under Maj. Gen. William Phillips, and were free to land at Portsmouth, Wilmington, or any other harbor from which they could march expeditiously to Cornwallis. Arnold, too, might be strong enough to join Cornwallis with part of his forces or to shape his plans in cooperation with those of the General.
Whatever advantage Greene might have gained at Guilford Court House would be cancelled if Greene had to face Cornwallis, Phillips and perhaps half of Arnold’s command. Could Washington give assistance? Recruiting showed no improvement; food was as scarce and transportation as feeble as ever; the prospect of the regular supply of clothing was improved by the resignation of James Wilkinson as Clothier General, but men still were being returned unfit for duty because they were almost naked. With French aid from Newport it might be possible to execute a demonstration in front of New York that would prevent further detachment of British forces to Virginia; but beyond this, what could be done to help Greene? One possibility of relief in the Southern Department was the dangerous course of sending Lafayette to Greene. Should the Marquis go to Greene despite Destouches’ failure, or should he resume his place in an Army that thereby would admit its inability to reenforce Greene? Washington thought the subject of sufficient importance to justify a council of war. The unanimous decision was to reverse the march of Lafayette, who already was moving north from Annapolis, and to send him to join Greene. Orders to this effect were forwarded April 6. Approximately two weeks later Washington received from Greene a dispatch that told of Cornwallis’s withdrawal from Guilford Court House to Wilmington. That town was at a greater distance than Greene could attempt to cover. “In this critical and distressing situation,” said Greene, “I am determined to carry the war immediately into South Carolina.” He explained: “The enemy will be obliged to follow us, or give up their posts in that State. If the former takes place, it will draw the war out of this State, and give it an opportunity to raise its proportion of men. If they leave their posts to fall, they must lose more there than they can gain here. If we continue in this State, the enemy will hold their possessions in both.”
Lafayette was well advanced on his march when Washington learned of this bold plan. Would the Marquis be able to go as far as Greene might proceed? Could Lafayette afford to leave Arnold and Phillips to do their worst in Virginia while he moved to the Carolinas? Everything depended on Greene and his men, on the rally of Virginia and North Carolina, and, as always, on the hope that the French would have more ships of war on the coast than the British manned. Until that great day arrived the American cause might sink lower and lower. In a letter to Laurens, Washington reviewed some of the struggles against nakedness and hunger: “. . . why,” he said, “need I run into the detail, when it may be declared in a word that we are at the end of our tether, and that now or never our deliverance must come.”
To all the anguish of leadership there now was added personal humiliation of a sort Washington had not known during the entire war. In a post captured during the final days of March by Loyalist partisans near Smith’s Clove was a full and candid letter on the military situation written by Washington to Benjamin Harrison. Washington took the loss stoically and perhaps did not recall the contents of other communications that had found their way to the desk of his adversary, if indeed, he knew which had been captured and which had gone by a different post. Then, about a fortnight after this incident, the General found in Rivington’s Gazette of April 4 a brief extract from the letter he had written Lund Washington when he had felt that the small size of de Tilly’s squadron and the delay in the sailing of Destouches’ ships had cost the allies an opportunity of destroying Arnold. Publication of the criticism was certain to be offensive to Rochambeau, Destouches and the other French leaders whose support was more desperately needed than ever. Washington had told Laurens it was “now or never” with French deliverance. Could it be that a careless letter had increased the chance the answer would be “never”?
Rochambeau’s dispatch on the subject was so dignified and restrained that it scarcely could be called a protest. Washington left the drafting of an answer to Hamilton, who submitted a text that displayed both frankness and self-restraint. In the paper the Colonel placed before him, Washington expressed his regret “that an accident should have put it in the [enemy’s] power to give the world anything from me which may contain an implication the least disagreeable to you or to the Chevalier Destouches.” Washington went on: “Whatever construction it may bear, I beg your Excellency will consider the letter as to a private friend, a gentleman who has the directions of my concerns at home, totally unconnected with public affairs, and on whose discretion I could absolutely rely.”
Another embarrassment came in a letter of Lund Washington’s, followed by one Lafayette sent from Alexandria on April 23. These papers explained that when a British sloop came up the Potomac many Negroes left Mount Vernon and joined the enemy. Lund himself went aboard, carried food to the officers and consented to supply provisions in hope that he might procure the return of the slaves. “This,” said the Marquis, “being done by the gentleman who in some measure represents you at your house will certainly have a bad effect, and contrasts with spirited answers from some neighbors that had their houses burnt accordingly.” Washington’s sense of justice told him that Lund had done this to save Mount Vernon from possible destruction, but he could not withhold a stiff rebuke. He told his manager: “. . . to go on board their vessels; carry them refreshments; commune with a parcel of plundering scoundrels, and request a favor by asking the surrender of my Negroes, was exceedingly ill-judged, and ’tis to be feared, will be unhappy in its consequences, as it will be a precedent for others, and may become a subject of animadversion.”
Now, as usual, Washington’s troops were hungry if they were not naked, without pay when not without food. Every effort to keep the Army together was hampered by the smallness of his staff. Hamilton declined to resume his regular place. The determination of the General to do absolute justice was not shaken but he could not accede immediately to Hamilton’s appeal for field assignment. Washington undertook to get proper rank and seniority for the self-effacing Tench Tilghman who, with David Humphreys, temporarily constituted the official “family.” Jonathan Trumbull, Jr., the choice of Washington for the post of military secretary, promised to join the staff early in June; other appointees were under consideration.
By May 13, Washington saw that large opportunity awaited his troops if they could be fed. Luzerne wrote that he was going to urge Destouches to make another effort in the Chesapeake. Washington had a thousand positive wishes for this, and forwarded Luzerne’s letter to Destouches; but an express from the east brought word that command at Newport had changed: on the sixth the French frigate Concorde had landed at Boston the Comte de Barras, who was to relieve the temporary successor of de Ternay. The same frigate included among its passengers the Viscomte de Rochambeau, son of the General. A shower of letters from the senior, from Barras, from General the Chevalier François Jean de Chastellux, and from Destouches, conveyed intimations that the younger Rochambeau had important dispatches. An early meeting with Washington was much desired by Rochambeau and Barras. The reply of the American commander was immediate: He would be happy to meet the gentlemen on May 21, and, as the Connecticut Legislature would be in session at Hartford, he would suggest Wethersfield for the conference.
Washington set out May 18 for Wethersfield. As the second day’s ride was nearing its end a group of gentlemen met the General and escorted him to Joseph Webb’s house at Wethersfield. May 21 Washington and his officers rode up to Hartford to welcome Rochambeau, who arrived about noon. The French commander was accompanied by Chastellux and an official “family,” but there was one disappointment: Barras had been detained in Rhode Island by the appearance of a British fleet, assumed to be that of Arbuthnot.
The next day Rochambeau confirmed the content of dispatches from France: A large fleet under the Admiral Comte de Grasse had left Brest, with infantry reenforcements on transports, and was going to the West Indies; but when this fleet had passed the Azores, vessels with six hundred troops were to be detached and, under the escort of the Sagittaire, were to proceed to Newport. With this accession of strength, where should the French take the field? That was what Rochambeau wished most of all to consider.
The obvious alternatives were Virginia and New York harbor. Either the French and Americans had to proceed overland to Virginia or they must conduct operations in New York. What was the judgment of Washington? The American commander did not hesitate: Could not the situation in Virginia be relieved more economically and more readily, in the controlling circumstances, by attacking New York than by attempting anything else? In event the enemy could not be challenged at sea, no better plan seemed to Washington to be within the means of the French and Americans than that of threatening vigorously the reduced garrison of New York. Clinton then would have to recall troops from Virginia or risk the loss of his most valuable base. Subtraction from the force of the enemy might serve Greene and Lafayette almost as well as additions to their own numbers. Would it not be incomparably easier to move the French from Newport to the lower Hudson than to attempt to drag the whole Army to James River in Virginia? Nothing short of the transfer of all Clinton’s troops to the South could justify that ordeal.
Rochambeau had another and exciting question: The principal French fleet was going to the West Indies—he did not say why or for how long—but if a naval reenforcement were to appear on the coast, how did Washington think it should be employed? The General replied that a choice of plan depended primarily on the size of the squadron. It might be used to help in the New York operations; it might be of largest good in circumstances not foreseen. The second of these possibilities was suggested because it was plain that a fleet of superior strength could intercept supplies for the enemy in Virginia and the Carolinas and thereby stop almost immediately the progress of Cornwallis and his columns. The nearer hope was in having de Grasse come to New York where he might cut off Arbuthnot from that base or seal the British ships in the harbor. Barras then would be free to join de Grasse. After that, any advantage that sea power could yield the allies might be within their grasp. The Frenchmen consented that Washington might bring the question to the attention of Luzerne and might say they were of one mind with the American in urging that de Grasse come to the coast of the United States. Washington forthwith addressed the French Minister, whom he urged to write the Admiral. When Washington dismounted at the New Windsor Headquarters about sunset May 25 he could tell himself that the conference had been successful, except for the absence of Barras whom it was most desirable he know personally; but, as generally happened, bad news awaited him: Martha was quite sick; the enemy’s forces from Canada were said to have reached Crown Point, whence it was thought they might penetrate into the valley of the Mohawk. This danger from the direction of the New York lakes continued to hang over Washington, but it did not become acute while he was making his initial preparations for the joint attack on New York. To that operation news from Virginia and the Carolinas gave the spur of immediacy. The enemy in Virginia had advanced as far as Petersburg, and on April 25 Lord Rawdon had made a successful sally from Camden, South Carolina, which Greene had been besieging. Washington thought this investment did vast honor to Greene and forecast the loss by the British of more of their isolated posts in South Carolina, unless Cornwallis marched to relieve them; but, meanwhile, what was to be the fate of Virginia, whither the British seemed to be making ready to send still more troops from New York? There even were rumors of a transfer of the entire British army to Virginia, in which event the difficulties of land transportation could not be permitted to stand in the way of a similar movement by the Continental Army.
The very next development threatened to destroy the whole of the Wethersfield plan. As Washington had few expresses and no cipher for correspondence with Greene and Lafayette, his own seal and the vigilance of the post rider were his sole security of such military secrets as he had to transmit. In spite of previous capture of embarrassing letters, the General on May 31 wrote Lafayette via the regular public channels that the joint operation of Americans and French was to be against New York primarily because “it was thought that we had a tolerable prospect of expelling the enemy or obliging them to withdraw part of their force from the southward, which last would give the most effectual relief to those States”—the secret of all others it was important to keep from the British. This precious paper was in a mail taken from the carrier June 3 by “an artful and enterprising fellow.” Sir Henry Clinton valued the seizure so highly that he gave the captor two hundred guineas, but he could not refrain from boasting of his good luck and foolishly let it be known that he was acquainted with the plans of the Americans. Washington, on his side, tried to depreciate the importance of the disclosures and sharpen the question the British soon began to ask—was the letter a ruse? The awkward reality persisted: If Washington made active preparations for an attack on New York, would not Clinton conclude that the dispatch to Lafayette was authentic and that Washington was trying to tempt the British to recall troops from Virginia?
News that came to American Headquarters in early June indicated that this plan, or a second best, had to be put into operation with the least possible delay. The situation in Virginia had become desperate. Cornwallis was known to have formed junction at Petersburg on May 20 with Phillips’s troops, who now were under Arnold; additional British transports had arrived in the Chesapeake; Joseph Jones sent warning that disaster might weaken resistance. Lafayette must avoid action until he was reenforced or Greene could take some of the pressure from him.
Help must be given Lafayette. Congress immediately authorized requests for 4200 three-months’ militia from Pennsylvania, Delaware and Maryland. Washington did not fail to make it plain that if Virginia was overrun, the enemy soon would be north of the Potomac. The reorganized Pennsylvania Line, which included numerous veterans, must be started from York and pushed to Lafayette by steady marches.
While these hurried measures for the relief of imperilled Virginia were still in their first stage, Washington learned that Admiral Barras disapproved the suggestion made at Wethersfield for the removal of the French fleet to Boston after Rochambeau left Rhode Island for the Hudson with the greater part of the French infantry. Besides, the French now wanted one thousand militia, not the agreed half that number, for the protection of the Newport anchorage and the stores. Washington had to ask Massachusetts and Rhode Island for five hundred each to serve with the four hundred French whom Rochambeau intended to leave there, an arrangement that was not effected otherwise than with some muttering by the state authorities. The American commander renewed his appeal to Rochambeau for the earliest possible advance of the French infantry to the vicinity of New York. He had to resist pleas that he go to Virginia and assume personal direction there. Washington needed to remain where he was and carry the heaviest of a soldier’s responsibility, that of sound decision. “. . . we must not despair,” he wrote John Mathews, “the game is yet in our hands; to play it well is all we have to do, and I trust the experience of error will enable us to act better in future.” Washington added: “A cloud may yet pass over us; individuals may be ruined; and the country at large, or particular States, undergo temporary distress; but certain I am that it is in our power to bring the war to a happy conclusion.”
Behind this now was more than hope. “Peace talk” was in the air. Washington listened but did not believe that a general treaty would be signed within a year. Then, in the last week in May, he had this intelligence from Laurens, who wrote at Passy, March 24: “The naval dispositions were made before my arrival; five ships of the line for the East Indies with troops; twenty, commanded by de Grasse, for the West Indies, twelve of which are to proceed to America. They will probably arrive on our coast in July. We have no news yet of their departure.” Washington so often had been given false news by men who believed it true that his impulse was to doubt, but daily the evidence accumulated until, at length, on June 13, confirmation came. A dispatch from Rochambeau, covered one in which de Grasse stated that he was bringing the French fleet to the coast of North America for a limited time about July 15. Washington’s mind ran ahead to what might be accomplished then. Rochambeau must be urged to appeal for the use of the troops that accompanied the Admiral. If they were made available, then the failure of the States to supply their quotas would not be fatal; and if the men-of-war under de Grasse were added to those of Barras and the total exceeded . . . but Rochambeau must be reminded at once: “Your Excellency will be pleased to recollect that New York was looked upon by us as the only practicable object under present circumstances; but should we be able to secure a naval superiority, we may perhaps find others more practicable and equally advisable.”
What could be undertaken after de Grasse’s arrival depended on the solution of a complicated equation of at least five factors—the margin of superiority the Admiral would possess, the duration of his stay in American waters, the number of troops he brought with him, the reenforcement of the British meantime, and the successful activity of the States to make the Continentals numerically effective and mobile. These were contingencies so involved and uncertain that while Washington canvassed many possible combinations, he concluded the most practicable course was to hold for the time being to the Wethersfield plan: he would bring Rochambeau’s troops to New York to take the first steps in the investment of that city while he did his utmost to build up the American Army. De Grasse would decide where the French fleet should operate; the allied land forces must be ready to conform and, if need be, to shift the scene of operations.
Washington concluded that the movement of Rochambeau’s troops to New York might present a chance for double surprise of the enemy at night. If Continentals could be brought down the Hudson and thrown against the outer defences of Manhattan Island at the time Rochambeau arrived from the east, advantage might be gained that could be exploited later. Washington decided to make the effort and personally supervised most of the preparations. Painstakingly he tried to make certain that he effected what he had failed at Germantown, the simultaneous convergence of columns that used different routes. When the moves were made, nothing went even decently well. Almost before a blow could be struck, the advantage of surprise was lost, and nearly all the British outposts were withdrawn over Harlem River to positions the allies could not assail. Nothing was gained beyond a good opportunity of close reconnaissance; the failure of the operation in every other particular was complete.
To Washington, as always, the lesson was, Remember the reasons for failure—and try again! He moved to a position near Dobbs Ferry, with the French infantry on his left and their cavalry still farther eastward, and he carefully took time for ceremonial visits to Rochambeau’s Headquarters. The enemy remained obligingly lazy in New York and produced nothing more in the way of news than that Arbuthnot had turned over the naval command to Admiral Thomas Graves on July 4. Washington continued his struggle to procure bread and meat for his men with some prospect of finding enough to keep them alive, but recruitment by the States lagged so wretchedly that he had only 5835 Continental rank and file in mid-July. A humiliating plight this was, especially as he had told Rochambeau that he hoped to have 10,250 troops available for the operations against New York. He and the French commander continued their reconnaissances, as if preparing for action, and on July 22/23 they made a demonstration in front of King’s Bridge and near Morrisania.
Startling changes were reported to Washington from Virginia. Cornwallis and his restless cavalry commanders, Banastre Tarleton and John Simcoe, had been tramping and galloping as if trying to make up for the long siesta of Clinton. Tarleton had led five hundred men half across the state to a magazine in Charlottesville. Simcoe drove Steuben and 550 recruits across James River at Point of Fork. Apparently, Cornwallis’s maneuvers were designed to destroy arms and manufactories, entrap Lafayette, if possible, and, at the least, prevent the junction of the Marquis’s force with Wayne’s part of the reorganized Pennsylvania Line, which was moving south. Lafayette played hide-and-seek with the British in frank admission that “we cannot afford losing”; and after Cornwallis left Richmond June 20 and started toward Williamsburg, the Frenchman acted as if he were pursuing a defeated foe. On the twenty-sixth he had the temerity to assail Simcoe’s Rangers. Lafayette was repulsed with the loss of at least eighteen Continentals; but when Simcoe counterattacked he had to pull back.
Cornwallis remained at Williamsburg, too strong to be attacked by Lafayette; but it was one thing to have the British commander marching unchallenged through Virginia and quite a different matter to have him halfway down the Peninsula where he was watched by the Marquis and might be assailed readily if de Grasse came to Virginia waters with the transports of a powerful fleet. Washington’s prudent order to Lafayette was that he concentrate his forces and await the arrival of a confidential messenger, when one could be found to carry him information “of very great importance.” The next report Washington had of the Marquis was that he had been defeated July 6 at Green Spring. Casualties of at least 139 did not spoil Lafayette’s usual good luck; after the engagement Cornwallis crossed the James and marched for Portsmouth as if he were in retreat.
Greene had not called on the reenforcements Washington had directed to him because he had hoped that if Lafayette retained these men, the Marquis would be able to avoid a “capital misfortune.” Greene continued to feel concern over the superiority of the enemy’s mounted forces, but with his little “army” he had maneuvered the British from all their positions in Georgia, outside Savannah, and from most of South Carolina. These were strokes that Washington praised warmly and gratefully. The most likely move of the British was for Cornwallis to establish himself strongly at Portsmouth, as Washington saw it now, and then to reenforce New York with part of his troops and Charleston with the remainder. Should an operation against the lower Hudson prove impracticable, even with de Grasse’s help, and the enemy still remain in Virginia, the campaign should be transferred to that state. Tactical dispositions in the Old Dominion seemed to be favorable, and Greene wrote confidently that an adequate force could dispose of Cornwallis in three weeks. The possibility of a laborious shift of scene appeared to Washington sufficiently real to prompt him to urge that Barras keep the French transports off Rhode Island in condition to sail on short notice.
MAP / 14
THE MARCH TO YORKTOWN
AND THE BATTLE OF THE CHESAPEAKE CAPES
Washington thought the chances of success in North River were dwindling so fast that he scarcely was justified in pursuing his plans there; but as he could not hasten by a single hour the arrival of de Grasse’s fleet, he was in the difficult situation where he neither could abandon the enterprise against New York nor delay much longer the arrangements for a move south. He had simultaneously to be asking himself how he could get forage and wheat and wagonage and much besides when he had no means of paying for anything. Collapse had come in May and by the middle of July had reached the stage where hard money alone was used in the market. This perplexity was brought to Washington’s own marquee by a visit from the Superintendent of Finance on August 11. By direction of Congress, Robert Morris and Richard Peters of the Board of War came to confer with Washington on the ironical question of providing an Army for 1782—though scarcely more than 50 per cent of the forces authorized for 1781 had yet been assembled. Washington undertook preparation of a paper to show why no reduction in the military establishment could safely be planned. Logically, this was not a difficult task; practically, it was hard to think clearly of what might or might not be required because every day’s dispatches made plain the all-absorbing fact that bleak defeat or shining victory was close at hand.
The great, the long-awaited news arrived on August 14: Barras wrote that de Grasse was coming to the Chesapeake, not to New York, and that the Admiral had twenty-nine warships with more than three thousand troops! No such intelligence as this had been received since that glorious April 30, 1778, had brought news of the French alliance. As always, there were shadows. One of them was a warning that de Grasse could not remain later than October 15. Another was a hint by Barras that he might undertake operations with his squadron against British shipping off Newfoundland, a diversion that must be prevented if possible. The length of de Grasse’s service was much too brief unless plans for the early siege of New York were abandoned and all energies devoted to transferring Rocham-beau’s army to Virginia, along with all American forces not imperative for the protection of West Point. New York City remained the great strategical prize, but it must be left for another campaign.
Washington started immediately his preparations. He decided that approximately 2500 men would be the maximum number he could afford to send from his own Army, along with the whole of the French, and he proceeded to select the troops who were to go. Choice of aggressive and competent command for this detachment was the next duty and a delicate one. As most of the troops named for the detachment were under Alexander McDougall, his chief thought it proper to offer him the command. When McDougall declined, Washington reverted to the rule of seniority and named Benjamin Lincoln, to the deep disappointment of Robert Howe and, in some measure, of Lafayette. In the light infantry, the command of Alexander Scammell was to be raised to its authorized strength of four hundred. A place in that expanded corps already had been found for Hamilton, whose stubborn pride Washington overlooked in careful justice to the brilliant New Yorker’s shining service. Lafayette was admonished to prevent the retreat of Cornwallis into Carolina, and was authorized to retain Wayne if that officer had not marched to join Greene.
The lines of advance of the French and Americans were studied; a new appeal was to be made to the States for recruits to serve with the main Army and for militia to guard the defences of the Hudson. Rochambeau and Washington called on Barras to abandon his plan for an expedition to Newfoundland, and they succeeded in getting the Admiral’s promise to join de Grasse in the Chesapeake and protect vessels that were to carry the French siege artillery and the Americans’ reserve of “salted provisions.” If weather favored, Barras would sail on August 21 from Newport for Virginia. This decision was of the highest importance. With Barras’s squadron, de Grasse almost certainly would have a heavier broadside than the enemy could bring to bear. The guns and the rations from Rhode Island might make the difference between sure victory and possible failure on land.
Washington kept clearly before him what Lafayette stated in simplest terms, “should a French fleet now come in Hampton Roads the British army would, I think, be ours”; but Washington stressed the provisos that de Grasse should arrive opportunely and that Cornwallis should not escape meantime. Cornwallis had gone to Yorktown. At that point on the Virginia Peninsula, Washington reasoned, the British commander was in a trap that could be sprung. He and Rochambeau drafted suggestions for the guidance of de Grasse in the situations the Admiral might find on arrival. Then they faced the hard question on which nearly everything else might depend: How was the greater part of the allied Army to leave its positions north of New York and proceed southward without being attacked while in motion? General Chastellux had suggested that when de Grasse approached Boston or Newport, which then was expected to be the Admiral’s port of call, the French force should advance into Jersey and remain there in a threatening position until the fleet took aboard the heavy guns and stores left in Rhode Island. Thereupon all the men-of-war should proceed to the Chesapeake and the entire Army move overland to Trenton and thence by water to Chester or New Castle. From that point the troops should tramp to Head of Elk and, reembarking, should go to Yorktown or some other landing close to the British. Washington and Rochambeau adopted this plan, or one very similar to it, and decided to develop the first phase as a ruse. Word was to be spread that de Grasse was expected hourly; the French and the American detachment intended for service in Virginia were to be moved to New Jersey, as if they were to assail Staten Island; inquiry was to be made for boats everywhere between Newark and Amboy; pontoons were to be paraded so that the dullest-witted Loyalist would guess they were intended to support a span between the mainland and the island; a bread oven built for the French at Chatham was to be mentioned as if it were the first of several to be constructed nearby. The hope was that spies would conclude that Rochambeau’s troops were to remain in Jersey for weeks.
Washington surprisingly was able to begin his march by August 19. The first phase of the movement, though without material accident, was completed more slowly than Washington had hoped. He warned his officers that success might depend thereafter on speed. The British showed no curiosity as the Army crept south. Some activity was observed in Graves’s fleet; otherwise the enemy kept quiet, and the march continued until the twenty-seventh when reports of an increase in British force on Staten Island led Washington to halt for a day at Springfield and close the rear. When he wrote Congress that day, reporting his advance, he made no prediction, but in less formal correspondence he expressed confidence. “The moment is critical,” he said, “the opportunity precious, the prospects most happily favorable.”
That evening brought news of reenforcements to the British fleet off Sandy Hook. Had not this news of British naval reenforcement created a measure of suspense, September 30 would have been rewarding to Washington. He felt that it was possible to continue the ruse of an attack on Staten Island one day longer, and to bolster this artifice he hurried his Americans forward in three columns by separate routes. Washington waited for a short time at Trenton and then set out for Philadelphia with Rochambeau, Chastellux and their entourage. The approach of the cavalcade to the Quaker City was known long enough in advance for the City Guard to serve as escort. At the city, Washington did not permit events of the day to occupy his hours so completely that he had no time for the task of procuring transportation to Head of Elk. A prudent agreement provided that the troops should march all the way. Water transportation was to be employed only for the siege guns and the heavy stores. This would delay the march of the infantry, but it was the best arrangement that could be made.
Then came news that threatened to change everything. The morning of September 1 brought a letter of August 31 which announced that the British fleet had sailed from New York. Washington’s immediate conclusion was that these warships were trying to intercept the French squadron from Newport. The fleet now had reenforcements, identified as Hood’s fleet and counted at thirteen. Total British strength, therefore, was twenty ships of the line, enough to overwhelm Barras. On the other hand, if Barras joined de Grasse and the two met Hood and Graves, many a British standard might fall. De Grasse alone might worst the two. If either de Grasse or Barras reached the Chesapeake and the British did not, then Cornwallis assuredly would be captured unless Lafayette most improbably let him slip past. One contingency remained, affrighting and perhaps fatal: Suppose the combined British fleets, with reenforcements for Cornwallis, should get to Virginia waters ahead of de Grasse—what would happen then?
Much business lay at hand on September 2. The American Army marched through Philadelphia in a cloud of dust that could not choke enthusiasm, but pleasures were alloyed and perplexities were aggravated by the fateful questions, Where was de Grasse; what had befallen Barras? Excellent reports from Lafayette of his measures to hamper Cornwallis were supplemented by dispatches in which Greene suggested substantially what Washington hoped to be able to do in the South. All this was gratifying and might be reassuring if Barras escaped and de Grasse arrived early with superior force. The contingency was similar in nature to that which Washington had faced without flinching over and over again, when the American cause had hung on some wretched uncontrollable “if.” The difference was in scale. This time the “if” almost certainly would determine whether the war would be dragged on feebly or would be ended in swift victory and a peace of independence.
In half hope, half apprehension, Washington arranged in Philadelphia for the repair of roads he was to use on the southward march and, as there no longer was possibility of concealing the objective of the Army, he called on New Jersey, Delaware and Maryland for supplies. On the morning of the fifth he said farewell to Philadelphia and au revoir to Rochambeau, who elected to go by water to Chester. Three miles of sombre riding southward from Chester. Then a horseman on the road ahead, an express: Admiral de Grasse is in the Chesapeake with twenty-eight ships of the line and three thousand troops!
De Grasse had arrived with a powerful fleet and with troops more numerous than those of the American detachment under Lincoln! Joyfully Washington directed his cavalcade to turn around and trot back to Chester, in order that he might await Rochambeau’s landing and announce the glorious tidings. Lafayette and the French reenforcements now could prevent the retreat of Cornwallis by land; de Grasse could cut off all relief from the sea—that was the prospect. As Washington talked of this, Rochambeau’s vessel hove in sight. The waiting American General forgot his dignity the moment he recognized the figure of the Count on deck. Washington took off his hat, pulled out his handkerchief and waved both with wide sweeps of his arms. When Rochambeau stepped ashore, Washington embraced his astonished comrade. Victory was ahead, the first clear-cut major victory he ever had won in the field. He had been waiting and working six years for that!
On the morning of September 6, Washington pushed swiftly to Head of Elk. There he announced in General Orders the arrival of de Grasse: “As no circumstance could possibly have happened more opportunely in point of time, no prospect could ever have promised more important successes, and nothing but our want of exertions can probably blast the pleasing prospects before us.” To bring more sunshine to clearing skies, he hinted that a month’s pay might be forthcoming, a half-promise that Robert Morris contrived to redeem to the extent of twenty thousand dollars in specie, the first Continental pay ever issued the troops in “hard money.”
In projecting now the strategy of his future operations, Washington overcame a measure of the caution that long years of defensive war had made second nature to him. “Nothing now gives me uneasiness,” Washington wrote his Chief Engineer, “but the two things you mention, not hearing from the Count de Barras . . . and the resolution for the departure of the fleet at a certain time.” Word was sent de Grasse that the utmost expedition would be employed in pushing the column forward and that, meantime, his companions in arms were confident he would do everything possible to prevent the escape of Cornwallis. Final loading and troop movement were left to Lincoln; Washington prepared to hurry forward, with Rochambeau and Chastellux, to join Lafayette.
After an early start for Baltimore from Head of Elk on the eighth, Washington set so rapid a pace that his French colleagues decided to spare their horses and their thighs by letting him dash ahead while they followed at less exhausting speed. Fast as Washington rode, the news of his coming outstripped him. When he approached the town during the afternoon, he found Capt. Nicholas Moore’s light dragoon militia drawn up to escort him. After darkness, every part of the town was illuminated in his honor.
With a single member of his military staff, Washington set out September 9 in an effort to have a day on his own plantation before guests arrived. At length, in deepening shadows, Washington dismounted where he had not set foot for six years and four months. Much of interest to the master of Mount Vernon was to be seen on the morning of the tenth, but duties more immediate awaited a host who was to entertain under his own roof the staffs of Rochambeau and Chastellux, as well as the two Generals themselves and his own “family.”
Dinner was made ready for a large company, made ready with ease, because there was no shortage at Mount Vernon of any food needed to load a table in summer. Washington’s military family arrived just at meal time and no doubt approved both the cooking and the abundance of their General’s home. That evening Rochambeau and his aides received welcome to the best quarters their host could offer. The next day, September 11, Chastellux and his staff reached Mount Vernon and had the same handshake. Jonathan Trumbull, Jr., who was glimpsing for the first time the life of a great plantation, wrote admiringly in his diary: “A numerous family now present. All accommodated. An elegant seat and situation, great appearance of opulence and real exhibitions of hospitality and princely entertainment.”
The weariness of his fellow-travelers and the delights of home kept Washington on the Potomac September 11. He still had no report of Barras and none of any engagement with Cornwallis; but there were ugly tidings of the old persistent foe—hunger. Little or no flour was reaching the troops between the James and the York, because drought had shut down the mills. Militia were subsisting, in part, on “roastening ears” of green corn, four for each man daily. Washington immediately wrote an appeal to the Governor of Maryland for supplies that could be sent quickly down Chesapeake Bay. Even in these matters, the commander did not eclipse the host.
On the twelfth, Washington left home once again and rode straight to bad news. Between Colchester and Dumfries he met a rider with dispatches for Congress. The man said that de Grasse, hearing the enemy was off the Virginia Capes, had carried his fleet to sea, engaged the British and then disappeared with them. The outcome had not been reported when the messenger left the Virginia Peninsula. Anxiety rose instantly. The possibilities were dark, but at the moment they dictated one order only from Washington—that the boats coming from Head of Elk should put their troops ashore or, if they were in harbor, stay there and await further instructions. The cavalcade rode on, but eager, confident hope had been chilled. The familiar and remorseless contingencies of war were nearer. Instead of certainty of success there was at least a chance of a great disaster.
The company of horsemen who reached Williamsburg on the fourteenth had been thinned to twelve by hard driving, the dispatch of aides on special errands, and the tightened rein of those who had rather miss a formal entry than endure a furious pace. Rochambeau and Adjutant General Hand had remained with Washington; a few members of the two staffs had kept their saddles, half in discomfort and half in grumbling admiration of seniors who endured so hard a journey. Washington rode through the camp of Virginia militia without ceremony, but when he approached the French camp he thought it courteous to dismount and wait. In a short while up rode Lafayette and Gov. Thomas Nelson of Virginia, who was in direct command of the state militia. Close behind them was General the Marquis Saint-Simon-Montblérn, head of the French troops that had arrived with de Grasse. Lafayette dismounted instantly and clasped Washington enthusiastically in his arms. Then he presented Saint-Simon. Saint-Simon invited the Commander-in-Chief to ride through his camp where his troops were eager to see their leader. Washington observed them with interest and satisfaction—the first reenforcement to reach Lafayette and Wayne in what was designed to be the greatest concentration Washington ever had attempted. From the French “town” Washington and his swollen entourage rode into the area where the American tents were pitched. The drums rolled; the guns barked twenty-one times.
Provisions were still scarce, though the trouble was one of organization; there was no actual shortage of grain in Virginia or Maryland; the Eastern Shore was overflowing with abundant crops. Washington noted this information which, on the morrow, he would put into urgent form for Gov. Thomas Sim Lee of the adjoining state. Governor Nelson was there to speak for himself and was able to make an encouraging report.
During the night of September 14/15 or in the early morning of the fifteenth there came news that swept away most of the doubt that had overhung the operation against Cornwallis. De Grasse was back in Chesapeake Bay, with two captured frigates, after a favorable engagement with the British fleet. What was equally important, Barras’s squadron had joined him without meeting the British or suffering any injury. Every word of this lightened Washington’s load! The troops on the shores of the upper Chesapeake might now be started south again. Many felicitations doubtless were exchanged, but the Commander-in-Chief, as systematic as ever, devoted part of the day to several new aspects of old problems of supply and leadership, and particularly three special preliminaries of a siege of Cornwallis’s Yorktown Lines, which were assumed to be stronger every day. The escape of the British must be prevented. Additional troops must be found to increase the odds of attack and replace men who were certain to fall. Above everything else, assurance must be sought that the French fleet would stay in Virginia waters until the campaign was closed victoriously.
On the fifteenth, Washington requested an interview with de Grasse, and, while awaiting an answer, made a reconnaissance of the British position, received additional officers, and reviewed the Virginia Line. He might have occupied himself for days with things that needed to be done, but de Grasse did not give him the time. On the seventeenth, the Admiral had in James River the fine little captured vessel, the Queen Charlotte. With a favoring wind she brought Washington, Rochambeau and their staffs in sight of the French fleet the next morning. Before them rode thirty-two ships of the line, the largest number Washington ever had seen together. The friendly conference that followed on the Ville de Paris was scarcely more than a succession of explicit answers by de Grasse to questions Washington had prepared in advance: Instructions set October 15 as the Admiral’s date of departure, but he would engage to remain through October. Washington could count on Saint-Simon’s troops till the warships departed.
These answers gave Washington about forty days in which to compel Cornwallis to raise the white flag. Washington turned to a somewhat less essential subject, closing of the possible British line of escape up the York. The Admiral would reserve decision until reconnaissance had been made, but he added, “je ferai certainement tout qui sera en mon pouvoir.” De Grasse offered the use of 1800 to 2000 men from the fleet but he wished them employed only for a sudden attack, a coup de main. He could not detach vessels to block the port of Wilmington, North Carolina, or to take possession of Charleston harbor as his ships were not suited for these enterprises. Cannon he could supply and a small amount of powder. So the conference was satisfying.
For the moment, amity might be enjoyed on other terms than those of cannon-balls and bayonets. The Admiral gave his guests a formal dinner and afterward showed them over his flagship. Then the officers of the fleet arrived to bow to the General. Soon after the Generals reached the Queen Charlotte for their return trip the wind rose and shifted and the weather suddenly changed from hot to cool. The vessel could make little headway, and when the wind ceased, the calm was a veritable mooring. A breeze on the evening of the nineteenth carried her so firmly aground that Washington and his companions got into a boat the next morning and headed for the frigate Andromaque, whence, after a hearty welcome and a stout breakfast, they started towards the mouth of the James. They found the little Queen off the shoal and ready to receive them. Washington went to his cabin, wrote his note of thanks to de Grasse and prepared two brief dispatches; for other correspondence a pitching vessel did not offer a comfortable desk. Soon the Queen was fighting so strong a headwind that there was no alternative to getting under the shelter of the land and spending the night. On the twenty-first the storm still was rattling the shrouds, and the weather seemed to mock hope. At dawn on the twenty-second, when the wind still resisted the ascent of the Queen, Washington would wait no longer. Unpleasant as it might be, a boat must work its way to the left bank of the James and climb by oar to College Creek. Washington, Rochambeau and the others got into the little craft for more hours of strain before they clambered ashore. It was noon when the party reached Williamsburg.
The British had attempted nothing in Washington’s absence except an abortive raid by fireships on the French vessels at the mouth of the York. The one development of possible importance occurred the day he returned to camp: An express brought news that Rear Admiral Robert Digby was off the coast of the United States with British transports and with ships of the line variously estimated from three to ten. This news was passed on to de Grasse by the Baron von Closen, but it was not alarming to Washington as there were thirty-six French ships of the line in the Bay. The French left at Newport, to guard the base after the departure of Rochambeau, had arrived under Barras’s convoy and had landed. Regiments from Head of Elk were beginning to come ashore. General Lincoln had reported on the evening of the twentieth; John Laurens had hurried to the hunt, in order to be “in at the kill.” Virginia authorities and those of Maryland were working vigorously to find provisions and were bringing up sufficient flour for immediate requirements. Washington did not think it prudent to open the siege of Yorktown until he had in hand a large reserve of artillery ammunition, but he found no little pride in the successful timing of the concentration already effected. He wrote Heath, who had been left in command at West Point: “By information, Lord Cornwallis is incessantly at work on his fortifications, and is probably preparing to defend himself to the last extremity; a little time will probably decide his fate; with the blessing of Heaven, I feel it will prove favorable to the interests of America.”
On the twenty-fifth von Closen reported de Grasse greatly disturbed by the news of Digby’s approach, and that his officers were advising him to leave. Though de Grasse held to his engagements with the combined armies, the Admiral now set forth a new plan in a paper translated immediately. After what had been said at the conference on the eighteenth, it seemed incredible that de Grasse should propose to leave a thin squadron in the Chesapeake—two ships of the line and four smaller armed vessels—and sail away with no assurance that he could or would return. Naval men might explain that de Grasse would be restricted in movement if the British entered the Bay and attacked between the mouth of the James and the so-called Middle Ground; but in Washington’s mind the Admiral’s altered plan seemed to threaten complete and irretrievable ruin of the entire campaign in Virginia. Washington’s anxiety rose almost to agony. As soon as he had conferred with Rochambeau, he had Laurens prepare a letter to de Grasse that did not withhold strong words in a logical plea for him to remain in the Chesapeake. This was to be delivered by Lafayette, who combined full knowledge of the situation with prestige that would assure a respectful hearing.
Until word came from de Grasse Washington must wait in suspense and must go ahead with his preparations as if he were sure de Grasse would remain in Hampton Roads. The possibility that Cornwallis might proceed suddenly up the York or across that river and northward was constantly in the mind of Washington. He decided to strengthen Weedon’s Virginia militia who were facing at Gloucester Point, on the north side of the York, a veteran British contingent under Tarleton. Washington requested Rochambeau to send the Duc de Lauzun to Gloucester with infantry and cavalry. On the James, French and American forces continued to arrive from the upper Chesapeake. On the twenty-sixth there was other encouragement, a report that Greene had gained a considerable advantage in a fight of August 8 with a British force under Col. Alexander Stewart.
Then on September 27, Washington received from de Grasse a dispatch on the twenty-fifth to which the American General must have listened with fast-beating heart:
SIR: I have the honor to inform your Excellency that I this morning convened a general council of my officers and laid before them the motives I had in assembling them . . . it was decided that the major part of the fleet should proceed to anchor in York River, that four or five vessels should be stationed in the James to pass up and down the river, and that you should aid us with the means of erecting on Point Comfort a battery of thirty-six pounders and mortars . . . for the good of our operation. . . .
There was more to the dispatch, but who had an ear for that? The great fact was that the fleet would remain. De Grasse had thrown himself heartily into a campaign that must be launched immediately. Let the order of battle be announced. The whole Army would march in one column at 5 A.M. on the twenty-eighth.
When Washington issued orders for a general advance to begin on the morning of September 28, 1781, he expected to be able to open trenches in the enemy’s front within four days, but he anticipated stubborn resistance by the British in the fortified posts of Yorktown and at Gloucester Point. The test of argument would be combat. About sunrise the van moved off towards the British positions, distant about twelve miles; the main American and French forces proceeded as a single supporting column for four or five miles and then Lincoln’s troops held to the right and Rochambeau’s men turned to the left. Marching was slow but no enemy was encountered. Towards evening the line was drawn across the fields and through the woods, part within gunshot of the British advanced works. The only interference was offered by some British dragoons who, when challenged by a few artillery shot, withdrew. As night approached, Washington had his men camp within approximately a mile of the enemy’s left.
The crossing of Great Run was effected easily on the morning of the twenty-ninth. The French heavy artillery was beginning to arrive in James River, opposite Trebell’s Landing, six or seven miles from camp. Until it arrived at the front there might be continuance of the infantry skirmishing, which broke out at intervals during the day, but Washington felt that his riflemen and Rochambeau’s chasseurs à pied could hold their own.
The approach was over sandy ground. Woods and open fields covered the plain. The scene of operations had military importance in three respects only: it was small, it directly commanded the deep York River, and it was confined in a most unusual way. Southwest and west of the town, ran deeply scarped Yorktown Creek. South and southeast, not so scarped, were Wormeley’s Pond and Creek. Between the marsh above Moore’s Mill, which was on Wormeley’s Pond, and the steep ravine of Yorktown Creek the plain was not more than half a mile wide and was known in part as Pigeon Quarter. This was the line of approach, or, from the British point of view, a narrow, defensible outer line. To force it might be costly; to turn it would be almost impossible on the British right because of earthworks constructed by Cornwallis’s engineers. Turning the British left in the vicinity of Moore’s Mill would be less difficult but would leave the allies at a considerable distance from the town.
When Washington looked at Pigeon Quarter some of his advance guard already had crossed the marsh above Wormeley’s Pond and widened the front on which his line could advance; but four British fortifications were located between the two creeks so that they could sweep all the approaches. Washington could see that these works had stout abattis and chevaux-de-frise and that from them, probably, a good view could be had both of the plain near the town and the inner fortifications. As far as he could make out, these approaches seemed easy. There appeared to be no superiority of any part of these earthworks over any other. On his left the British had two redoubts, not connected with each other or with the main lines and approximately four hundred yards in rear of them.
Washington studied as much as was visible from his points of vantage, studied it with more experienced eyes than ever had been at his command in the past. For the first time he had the two greatest luxuries of command—definite superiority of force and uniform competence of command. The result of his reconnaissance and conferences was a three-fold decision to expedite the transportation of the artillery from the James, organize large working parties for providing cover as soon as the advance could begin, and proceed on the assumption that the utmost vigor must be displayed against adversaries who would not surrender until they had lost the power to escape or fight longer.
The next morning, September 30, Washington learned that Cornwallis had saved him much labor. During the night the British had evacuated all three of their works in the plain. Abandonment of these defences led Washington to wonder if the British were preparing to retreat across the York or to the country up the river—a possibility that made him almost resentful of de Grasse’s hesitancy to have ships ascend the stream and close one of these lines of withdrawal. Be that as it might, Cornwallis’s withdrawal comforted Washington for a distressful incident of the day, the capture and cruel wounding of Col. Alexander Scammell, former Adjutant General and now a conspicuously able and gallant battalion commander in the light infantry.
Washington decided to tighten immediately the cord around the neck of the British: On the direct approach to Yorktown, between the two creeks, two redoubts were to be constructed in line with those the British had quit. A new effort must be made to prevail upon de Grasse to send frigates up the York. The Admiral must be requested to supply marines he had said he would lend the Army for a coup de main—a request granted before it was renewed. As soon as the remainder of the siege artillery was brought up, the forces would be equipped to attack; with the aid of the French, one at least of Cornwallis’s avenues of escape would be closed. Next would come the swift construction of a trench opposite the enemy’s main defences and then the rapid fortification of this “curtain” with redoubts and artillery.
In classical siegecraft this was the “opening of the first parallel,” intended primarily to shorten the range for effective bombardment of the enemy’s works. To determine the proper position of the parallel, Washington made a reconnaissance within three hundred yards of the advance posts of the British. Further study of the plain disclosed no obstacle to drawing the parallel, but Washington reasoned that nothing was to be gained by occupying the ground before all the siege guns were at hand. While gabions and fascines were being made in large number and the redoubts were being finished, the major task was to find teams to transport the last of the heavy pieces from Trebell’s Landing. So long and wearing was this labor of dragging tons of iron through the sand that Washington did not celebrate and may not even have observed the completion on September 30 of what had been in many ways the great achievement of his Army after the Trenton campaign: On the final day of September, nearly all the most laggard sailing vessels from Head of Elk had cast anchor off College Creek, with the last of Rochambeau’s siege artillery. That had completed on the Virginia Peninsula the concentration for which Washington had written the initial orders at Dobbs Ferry August 16.
Soon there was pleasant news from Gloucester. The Marquis de Choisy assumed command there October 1 after arriving from Newport with Barras’s squadron, and he decided to draw the allied lines closer around Gloucester Point. On the morning of the third his van, passing down a lane slightly less than four miles from the Point, encountered the dragoons of Tarleton who were covering the return of a foraging party. Tarleton turned back with some of his troopers to protect the wagons—and met a prompt charge by cavalrymen as tough of fibre as his own. In a short time, the British leader pulled back. Choisy held the field and later advanced in formal siege of Gloucester Point. It was a small affair but in every way encouraging.
After the clash at Gloucester, everything indicated that the next scene was to be enacted in front of Yorktown, where the enemy kept up a steady fire October 4, 5, and the night of 5/6. Washington did not give back iron to earth in wasteful, aimless fire, but there was work enough, and rising hope besides, because reliable ox-teams now were being delivered at camp and being used to draw the guns towards the redoubts. Good augury attended good effort. On the fifth, Capt. William Pierce reached Headquarters with details of Greene’s battle of September 8. The action had occurred at Eutaw Springs, South Carolina, where Greene had attacked a force of British regulars to prevent the establishment there of a permanent post. After a hard fight the American leader had been compelled to withdraw, but he did not retreat far and when he heard the British had left Eutaw Springs on the evening of the ninth, he organized pursuit of what proved to be little more than a remnant retiring towards Charleston.
Washington’s engineers now were ready, they believed, “for serious operations”; the new fortifications and the strengthening of the occupied redoubts gave security to the troops who were to open the first parallel; entrenching tools and materials were adequate if used economically.
Little beyond routine occurred during the morning of the sixth except for the belated issue of lengthy General Orders that covered “Regulations for the Service of the Siege.” The main task of the day was to convey fascines and gabions as far to the front as they could be carried without disclosing where the first parallel was to be. The trench was to begin directly east of the head of Yorktown Creek, cross the Hampton Road almost at right angles, and then swing on an arc to the high bank of York River, about six hundred yards from the parapet of the advanced British redoubt which also was located on the cliff. While no part of the parallel was to be nearer than this to the British defences, much of the line was to be fully eight hundred yards from them. Simultaneously with the construction of this parallel, the second part of the plan was to be executed: on the extreme allied left, next the river, some of Saint-Simon’s troops were to dig a narrow support trench and a battery from which the French could challenge a star redoubt across the creek. Moreover, with the guns of the proposed battery, the artillerists hoped to reach the British shipping in the river and destroy communication during daylight hours between York and Gloucester. This digging and stir on the British right was to serve still another purpose: it was intended to fix the enemy’s attention at that point and divert the British from close observation of the ground where the parallel was to be drawn.
As the afternoon of October 6 passed, Washington heard of no occurrence that would interfere with the execution of any part of the plan. At four o’clock some of the American troops paraded; at five the French were assembled and assigned their positions; as soon as night fell Rochambeau’s engineers told off the fatigue-parties, which filed out two hours later and began to dig. Washington listened anxiously, but heard no sound from the enemy’s front until about nine, when, on the British right, the watchdogs of the star redoubt started to bark. Soon there were growls on the centre and the right; nowhere except on the bank of the lower stretch of Yorktown Creek, where Saint-Simon was to make his diversion, did the cannonade rise to fury. Elsewhere the hours of the night dragged past, out of step with the staccato of the picks that beat double time along the parallel. Rain hampered the British cannoneers without troubling greatly the men who were shoveling the light, sandy soil. When daylight came the allied troops had good cover in the trench and four redoubts which were sufficiently advanced in construction to protect the garrison. Losses had been few.
The opening of the first parallel and the commencement of fire were several days apart in Washington’s planning. It was second nature with the thrifty American commander to conserve his ammunition. Within the time limit set by the presence of the French fleet, he would not waste a single shot until he had guns enough, close enough, to force Cornwallis’s surrender or make the storming of the British defences successful at minimum sacrifice of blood. Work on redoubts and batteries was pushed without interference. The French finished their battery that afternoon. By the ninth construction was so far advanced that artillery and stores were brought up. Before noon the work on the extreme right was complete. Because the French had excelled in preparation, Washington gave them the honor of beginning the bombardment at 3 P.M. Then the American cannon joined in. Quickly the allied gunners found the range and centred their fire effectively on the embrasures of the enemy’s works. To prevent repairs during the night, Washington had the two batteries continue their fire through the hours of darkness while busy hundreds of allied soldiers worked to bring more guns into position. As a reward of long toil, four additional batteries, two French and two American, were in order early on the tenth for the challenge of the enemy with approximately sixteen cannon and eight mortars, besides those that had been sounding since the previous afternoon—a total of at least forty-six.
The fire from the French left, near the river, was taken up on the Gloucester shore, when Choisy discovered a British force, crowded into six flatboats, that sought to get beyond his right flank. With help from Saint-Simon’s gunners, Choisy compelled the British to creep back to Gloucester Point. Washington observed with admiration the precision of the French fire. Before long the enemy was sending over about six shots only an hour—so few that Americans and French slackened their bombardment.
A flag of truce came from the town at noon. Word soon was passed that the flag covered “Secretary” Thomas Nelson, who was uncle of Gov. Thomas Nelson and had been residing in the large residence that dominated the profile of the town as seen from the right of the American position. He was able to give the camp the first reliable news that had come from Yorktown after the siege began: The bombardment had done much damage and had forced many of the British to take shelter under the cliff, where Cornwallis had established himself in a grotto. On the Gloucester side of the river, Nelson reported, the British were contained by the forces under Choisy. To some extent, officers and men were dispirited, Nelson continued, though they professed no apprehension for the safety of the town.
The probability of attack did not increase as the sun descended. The allied guns were pugnacious; the British fire was listless; embrasures on Cornwallis’s line manifestly were damaged, and even the outline of the parapets became ragged. By twilight the enemy’s batteries seemed almost to be silenced. Not long after nightfall there came from within the British lines a heavy column of black smoke. A large fire it must be; the reflection, now brighter, now dimmer, was visible nearly all night. By morning, the explanation was plain: Saint-Simon’s battery had turned its guns on two frigates that seemed to be maneuvering suspiciously during the afternoon. One of these, the Guadeloupe, got under cover of the land; the other, the Charon, soon was aflame from waterline to truck. This created intense alarm among the masters of other craft. Some were warped to safety; several others caught fire; Saint-Simon’s guns added more redhot round shot to the confusion. The final loss, four or five vessels, was a tribute to French artillerists and a warning of things to come.
October 11 brought satisfaction in the arrival from de Grasse’s fleet of two officers whom the Admiral had directed to determine whether it seemed worthwhile to run frigates past the town in order to close to Cornwallis the line of escape upstream that Washington still believed his adversary might attempt to follow. The officers said little on their return from the river, but, in Washington’s opinion, they “seemed favorably disposed” to the enterprise. The American General wrote to de Grasse in some detail why he believed the operation would be as safe, with favoring wind, as it was strategically desirable.
Washington had no intention of delaying the prosecution of the siege while he awaited de Grasse’s decision. Two more French batteries were going into action on the eleventh; as the British might expect further additions to the first parallel before another was opened, good strategy dictated labor on the second line at once. In undertaking this, the allies had to deal with the two advanced British redoubts on the left. So long as these redoubts were in enemy hands, they barred allied advance. Once secured, they would permit an enfilade of part of the enemy’s inner line and offer shelter for the final assault. They must be taken—but how? The engineers had a simple solution: from the eastern end of the French part of the first parallel troops would move out and construct part of the second as close to the advanced British redoubts as safety permitted, and then they would erect a strong epaulement or “shoulder.” If full advantage were taken of a slight rise of ground, execution of this design would reduce distance to the nearer British earthwork from 650 yards to approximately 330, perhaps even to 300 or less, without exposing the epaulement to intolerable fire. Once the advanced redoubts had been silenced or seized, the second parallel could be extended from the epaulement to the river bank.
No time was lost in carrying out the plan. Digging began at dusk. Some of the American parties escaped all cannonade; the French faced a heavy fire, which their artillery countered. Rochambeau’s lieutenants moved up reenforcements in expectation of a sortie. They had to deal with one alarm during the night, but they found it merely a clash of patrols. Before morning the troops were covered. “Lord Cornwallis’s conduct,” Washington wrote that day, “has hitherto been passive beyond conception; he either has not the means of defence, or he intends to reserve his strength until we approach very near him.”
The only change during the day was an increase in British cannon fire, which annoyed but did not delay the allied workmen. Washington felt that several days might pass before he could get the full measure of his adversary. Meantime, in the face of an increasing, mixed fire of round shot and shell, which exacted a higher toll on the thirteenth, preparations for the next phase of the siege went steadily on. Without waiting for these to be finished, Washington ordered the guns of all the other fortifications within range to open on the advanced works opposite the American right. Saint-Simon, on the allied left, began to pound the star redoubt. The British answer was no more spirited than usual, though it included some five-inch shells which could not be seen in flight.
About 2 P.M. the Commander-in-Chief was told that the engineers considered the British positions so heavily damaged that a successful assault was practicable. Washington did not wait for details: Lafayette with four hundred light infantry must make ready to assault the advanced redoubt next the river; Rochambeau was requested to send a force of his own choice against the nearer detached work—an honor the French leader gave to General Vioménil. Simultaneously with the attacks by Vioménil and Lafayette, the French were to demonstrate against the star redoubt and British lines in Gloucester. Although several hours must pass before the new gamble with fate began, ears already were being tuned for the sound of the six guns, fired in succession, that were to give the signal for the attack.
Before the afternoon ended Washington went to the French line, met Vioménil and heard with approval the details of that officer’s preparations. Then the Commander-in-Chief rode over to the ground where Lafayette’s officers were waiting. Battlefield oratory was not one of Washington’s acquirements, but he made a brief appeal, earnest if not eloquent: the participants in the assault, he said, must be firm, brave soldiers; the success of the attack on both redoubts depended on them. That was all. If, from the left flank, nervous fire of small arms presently was heard between the one-two of cannon shot, Washington of course knew what it meant: punctually and vigorously, Saint-Simon was launching his demonstration in the hope he might convince the British that he intended to attack. Had not distance drowned it, the sound of Choisy’s feint in Gloucester might have been audible, also.
Soon the batteries ceased fire. Then, about seven o’clock, the stillness was broken by a shot from one of the French redoubts. Men started out silently from the trench. Their order was explicit: be silent, use the bayonet only. In a minute or two the vanguard disappeared in the shadows; the main body of the detachment followed. Washington and the other generals might almost have held their breath as they waited for the discovery of the attack. Then there rolled swiftly the sound of the fire of the guard. Evidently the French had been challenged and had received all the lead the men on the parapets could hurl at them. The sharp bark of small arms came from the redoubt the Americans were assaulting. Hamilton, in command of Lafayette’s column of Americans, had also failed to achieve a complete surprise. Anxious minutes passed. The fire from the left became more furious; that on the right slackened. Soon the roar of voices was mingled with the crash of musketry. There were shouts, cheers. After that, fire ceased at the redoubt near the river and became intermittent from the direction of the French advance.
Both redoubts had been captured! The French had found the abattis strong and almost undamaged twenty-five yards in front of the redoubt. Time and men had been lost in breaking through. On reaching the ditch the French had thrown themselves into it, only to face a stubborn fraise and a bristling palisade. Some of the troops climbed over these obstacles and broke into the redoubt; others waited until the artificers removed the stakes. Once in the enclosure the French quickly overwhelmed the defenders, who did not make the last-ditch defence expected of them. At the other redoubt, Hamilton’s main party pulled out carelessly planted palisades and swarmed over the parapet; Laurens’ band swiftly closed on the rear of the redoubt.
Little time was allowed to provide for safety because the enemy soon turned on the redoubts all the guns that could be brought to bear from the inner fortifications. As this fire quickened, workers wielded their picks and within three quarters of an hour had raised earth high enough to cover the new garrison. The British shells passed over the heads of the men on the American part of the line but indicated on the French some of the heaviest losses sustained during the evening.
As the night spent its hours the enemy’s cannonade took a smaller toll. By morning the workers had nearly completed the fortification of a curtain they had run all the way to the river.
The New York Brigade marched proudly into the captured work. When Washington visited the redoubt later in the day with some of the French and American officers he made his inspection under a warm fire of rifles as well as of artillery, because the lines now were close enough together for good marksmen to use small arms with some effect. He paid no heed to this and had little difficulty in deciding, with the engineers’ aid, where new batteries should be placed contiguous to the captured redoubts. The troops on fatigue duty labored with zeal; the artillerists soon contrived to get two howitzers into each of the newly occupied works; by 5 P.M. they were put in action.
Before sunrise October 16 word reached Headquarters of an alarm on the lines and a sortie by the British. About four o’clock, 350 picked troops broke into the second parallel, close to the point of junction between French and Americans and near two uncompleted batteries. The British pretended to be an American relief. By this artifice they surprised a small detachment of the Agenois Regiment, most of whom had been permitted to go to sleep. When the Redcoats came to the French communication trench that led to the first parallel, they halted doubtfully. By good fortune, the Viscount de Noailles was near, guessed what the situation was and unhesitatingly attacked with the cry “Vive le Roi!” The British had been told to spike the guns with the tips of bayonets, and the men had not been deployed either for attack or defence. In a few minutes they streamed back towards their own lines. Within a few hours the spikes had been removed and every cannon had been put back in action. Washington dismissed the sortie as “small and ineffectual . . . of little consequences to either party” and devoted his energies to bringing into operation the batteries on which both French and Americans had been working diligently.
With the advanced British redoubts his own, he now had to face frontal fire only. Preparation was simplified. By 4 P.M. or a little later two of the French batteries were ready and three pieces in a large American work could be put in action. When they began a new bombardment the other batteries barked a welcome and aroused the enemy to swift, hot answer. While hundreds of Americans labored to bring up guns and strengthen the works for an even more destructive bombardment the next day, the French artillerists displayed their skill by ricocheting their shot. This did much damage to the British defences and, with good luck, sometimes placed a projectile directly over the parapet and among the men posted there. A fair day ended in a fairer prospect. The chance of naval relief of Cornwallis seemed remote; de Grasse at last was willing to send frigates up the York if the American commander provided small boats to protect against fireships, which Washington readily could do. A furious squall swept down the York after midnight, but by the morning of the seventeenth it had passed.
The camp was full of exciting news. During the night Cornwallis had made some effort to escape to the north side of the river and been frustrated by the squall. As far as the Americans could make out, none of the garrison on either side of the river had escaped. They remained where they were, exposed to the heaviest fire yet poured on them. The French had two more batteries in action; the “grand battery” of the Americans was complete. Some artillerists estimated more than one hundred guns engaged in what sounded as if it were a ceaseless bombardment. This was tearing the enemy’s works apart. The only fire the allies had to face was that of small mortar shells which the enemy dropped with persistence.
If any slackening of fire was audible as Washington transacted business at Headquarters, he attached no importance to it. Pauses came often in a bombardment. The General was about to write de Grasse on the matter of pilots for the passage of the river above Yorktown when a rider pulled up his horse in front of the tents. He had a dispatch for Washington, transmitted in circumstances that had led every observer to ask the same question. Between nine and ten o’clock, a drummer had sounded a parley. A British officer thereupon had come out in front of the defences with a white handkerchief; firing had ceased, an American had run forward, bandaged the eyes of the man with “the flag,” and led the emissary through the American lines. In the messenger’s hand was the letter the British officer had brought:
SIR, I propose a cessation of hostilities for twenty-four hours, and that two officers may be appointed by each side, to meet at Mr. Moore’s house, to settle terms for the surrender of the posts at York and Gloucester.
I have the honour to be, &C
CORNWALLIS
The proposal to surrender had come much earlier than Washington had permitted himself to hope. Now that terms were asked, they must be imposed at once, justly but rigidly. With punctuation by cannon that had renewed the bombardment when the British flag had returned, Trumbull drafted a reply which Laurens revised slightly and Washington approved. About 2 P.M. fire again halted temporarily for the paper to be passed in this form:
MY LORD:I have had the Honor of receiving Your Lordship’s Letter of this Date. An Ardent Desire to spare the further Effusion of Blood, will readily incline me to listen to such Terms for the Surrender of your Posts and Garrisons of York and Gloucester, as are admissible.
I wish previously to the Meeting of Commissioners, that your Lordship’s proposals in writing may be sent to the American Lines: for which Purpose, a suspension of Hostilities during two Hours from the Delivery of this Letter will be granted. I have the Honor, etc.
In this, Washington felt he had taken decent precaution, but he had so little doubt of Cornwallis’s enforced submission that he began preparations for the formal surrender. As de Grasse was the allied commander who would require the longest notice, Washington had Tilghman and Laurens draft a cordial letter in which he invited the Admiral’s “participation in this treaty which will according to present appearances, shortly take place.” Later in the afternoon Washington received a second letter from Cornwallis. The time allowed in a reply to Washington, said the British commander, did not permit him to enter into details of terms. Among the proposals he then sketched hastily one only was completely inadmissible—that the surrendered forces be returned on parole to Britain or to Germany. The other concessions sought by Cornwallis were not of a sort to indicate he would attempt to renew the fighting if he did not win them. Washington consequently agreed to a continued suspension of hostilities, and apparently he overlooked the possibility that the enemy might wreck or burn equipment before such acts were forbidden.
The luxury of silence and of safety now was the Army’s—at least for a night. The exchanges of the day made it possible for a man to stretch out and sleep as long as he would or could in the chill October air—and have no fear of a Britsh bayonet in his chest. At Headquarters some of the staff must have labored over the answer to be made the next day to Cornwallis, but they encountered little difficulty in giving unequivocal form to their terms. By morning Jonathan Trumbull had a draft that Washington found altogether acceptable:
MY LORD: To avoid unnecessary Discussions and Delays, I shall at Once, in Answer to your Lordships Letter of Yesterday, declare the general Basis upon which a Definitive Treaty and Capitulation must take place. The Garrisons of York and Gloucester, including the Seamen, as you propose, will be received Prisoners of War. The Condition annexed, of sending the British and German Troops to the parts of Europe to which they respectively belong, is inadmissible. Instead of this, they will be marched to such parts of the Country as can most conveniently provide for their Subsistence; and the Benevolent Treatment of Prisoners, which is invariably observed by the Americans, will be extended to them. The same Honors will be granted to the Surrendering Army as were granted to the Garrison of Charles Town. The Shipping and Boats in the two Harbours with all their Guns, Stores, Tackling, Furniture and Apparel, shall be delivered in their present State to an Officer of the Navy, appointed to take possession of them.
The Artillery, Arms, Accoutrements, Military Chest and Public Stores of every Denomination, shall be delivered unimpaired to the Heads of Departments, to which they respectively belong.
The Officers will be indulged in retaining their Side Arms, and the Officers and Soldiers may preserve their Baggage and Effects, with this Reserve, that Property taken in the Country, will be reclaimed.
With Regard to the Individuals in civil Capacities, whose Interests Your Lordship wishes may be attended to, until they are more particularly described, nothing definitive can be settled.
I have to add, that I expect the Sick and Wounded will be supplied with their own Hospital Stores, and be attended by British Surgeons, particularly charged with the Care of them.
Your Lordship will be pleased to signify your Determination either to accept or reject the Proposals now offered, in the course of Two Hours from the Delivery of this Letter, that Commissioners may be appointed to digest the Articles of Capitulation, or a Renewal of Hostilities may take place.
I have the Honor etc
Off went the messenger with the letter. By the time he reached the line the curiosity of thousands of adversaries was being satisfied through the bounty of the truce. On the beach of York hundreds of busy people might be seen moving to and fro. At a small distance from the shore were ships sunk down to the water’s edge—farther out in the channel the masts, yards and even the top gallant masts of some might be seen without any vestige of the hulls. On the opposite side of the river was the remainder of the shipping drawn off as to a place of security. Even here the Guadeloupe, sunk to the water’s edge, showed how vain the hope of such a place. Under the terms about to be imposed the remaining transports and other vessels must be left as they were for final disposition by the French Admiral. De Grasse, unfortunately, would not be present in person to settle the details and share the honors. Sickness had overtaken him and he designated Barras in his stead. The day brought assurance, also, that an American “fleet” as well as a French, would be in the background of the final scene. The remaining troops of St. Clair were arriving off the mouth of the York.
Cornwallis, in answering Washington, abandoned effort to have his army paroled home and contented himself with seeking three things—terms of special honor for the unassailed garrison of Gloucester Point, permission to dispatch a small vessel to New York with a cargo of private property, and immunity for Loyalists at the two posts. Washington was entirely satisfied that the British could not escape now, and he knew that at a meeting of commissioners he could impose all essential terms that honor, safety of the American cause, and decent consideration for a defeated foe demanded. More than this, Washington did not intend to exact. He named Laurens as one American commissioner and left the choice of the other to Rochambeau, who selected de Noailles, Lafayette’s brother-in-law.
While Laurens and de Noailles were listening to the British commissioners, Washington made ready an American and a French detachment, each of two hundred men, to occupy British defences on the main roads and thereby prevent unauthorized entry into Yorktown or egress from it—a precaution the expectant spirit of the troops dictated. Evening came without any word on the progress of the negotiations, but Washington awaited the return of Laurens and de Noailles without concern. When they arrived they reported that British appeals and objections of one sort and another had so prolonged the meeting that the articles of capitulation were not in final form; but the American commissioners brought back a rough draft, for consideration of which they had extended the truce until nine o’clock on the morning of the nineteenth. That sufficed. The terms were those of honorable surrender, mitigated for the officers by permission to return on parole to Europe or to an American port in British hands. Cornwallis’s temporary use of the sloop Bonetta for a voyage to New York was allowed, with the proviso that she carry dispatches and soldiers but no public property. Officers were to retain their side-arms; all baggage of individuals was to remain their own, unless it included effects taken from the inhabitants. Details of formal surrender were set forth punctiliously as to flag and music and march, and with such a “compensation” for the part of the garrison of Gloucester Point as Cornwallis had said he would expect. The sole flat denial of Cornwallis’s amended proposals concerned the requested article that “natives or inhabitants of different parts of this country, at present in York or Gloucester are not to be punished on account of having joined the British army.” Washington’s refusal of this was brief: “This article cannot be assented to, being altogether of civil resort.”
When the articles were entirely in order, Washington authorized Laurens to notify the British of certain minor changes of terms. Then the General was ready for his final move. “I had [the papers] copied,” he wrote, and sent word to Lord Cornwallis “that I expected to have them signed at 11 o’clock and that the garrison would march out at 2 o’clock. . . .” The alternative was one so plain that Cornwallis could not hesitate in his choice. About eleven o’clock the text of the articles arrived from the British lines. Attached were the signatures of Cornwallis and Thomas Symonds, senior naval officer in the York River. These two names were written under a line that read: “Done at York, in Virginia, this 19th day of October 1781.” Washington had this separate paragraph duly added: “Done in the trenches before Yorktown, in Virginia, October 19, 1781.” Below this he quietly wrote “G. Washington.” His colleague used the title, “Le Comte de Rochambeau.” Barras signed: “Le Comte de Barras En mon nom & celui du Comte de Grasse.” It was finished! Except for the formalities of surrender.
Time came for the great event. Washington had given his orders verbally during the forenoon—and never to subordinates more eager to obey. The people of the neighborhood were to be allowed to witness the ceremonies; the French troops were to be on one side of the road down which the British marched; the Americans were to be on the other side in two lines, the Continentals in front, the militia behind them.
When Washington rode up between the lines that had formed for a distance of about half a mile the French bandsmen were performing magnificently and the Americans were playing “moderately well”; but what was the quality of their music then to Washington? Those Continentals were symbols as surely as they were soldiers. From his left, Washington heard different music—and, doubtless, the rustle that often sweeps a silent, excited throng. The march of the British was slow and labored. Minutes passed before the head of the column approached. Washington, on his fine charger, probably looked straight ahead. Rochambeau, opposite him, was no less militarily correct in his dress uniform with the shining badges of French orders on his chest.
Louder now was the music, closer to the column. Presently came a perfectly appointed British general officer with his staff, all mounted and escorted. When the leader reached the waiting commanders he turned to his left and started to address Rochambeau, but the Count pointed to Washington. King George’s officer swung around with an apology for his mistake. The American observed him instantly as a man of about forty and most courteous in his bearing—but not Lord Cornwallis. He was Brigadier Charles O’Hara of the Guards, and he came to represent his Lordship who was indisposed and unable to appear. Washington showed neither irritation nor disappointment, but, of course, if the British commander acted through a deputy, would General O’Hara be so good as to consult General Lincoln, who was directly at hand? A brief exchange sufficed: On the right of the road, a short distance beyond the position of Washington and his staff, Lincoln explained, there was an open field around which French hussars had formed a circle: The British would enter this circle, one regiment at a time, lay down their arms and await instructions to march back between the lines of allied troops.
O’Hara proceeded on his heartbreaking mission. Soon the leading platoon of the British army was in front of Washington. Many of the round-hatted English soldiers were in liquor; but most of the troops were well dressed, many of them in new uniforms, and they adhered to the letter of the articles of capitulation. The British and German flags were cased and carried ungloriously past gorgeous French standards and proudly flying American colors. All the music continued to be what Washington had prescribed, English or German, not French or American, in return for the British demand at Charleston that the drums of the despised “rebels” should “not beat a British march.” Silently and slowly the troops filed to the surrender ground, and then, after a while, they began the return march, with no emblem of the soldier except uniform and knapsack.
Washington had invited General O’Hara to dinner, and O’Hara proved to be sociable and entirely at ease, with none of the air of a captive. When the meal was over and Washington could turn again to business, he found that no news had come of any hitch in the surrender of the Gloucester post to Choisy.
At the day’s end Washington undertook the most delightful of all miltary duties. Three times previously, three times only, Washington had addressed to Congress papers that announced major successes—the occupation of Boston, the capture of the Hessians at Trenton, and the retreat of Clinton from Monmouth. None of these had been comparable in prisoners and in booty to Yorktown. Washington could prepare a “victory dispatch” in the loftiest use of the term and entrust the delivery of the paper to a staff officer he wished particularly to honor. Trumbull must draft the paper; when it was revised and copied, it must be placed in the hands of the faithful, selfless Tench Tilghman for delivery to Congress. No officer of the Army had earned a better right to this conspicuous distinction.
The dispatch began: “Sir, I have the Honor to inform Congress, that a Reduction of the British Army under the Command of Lord Cornwallis, is most happily effected. The unremitting Ardor which actuated every Officer and Soldier in the combined Army in this Occasion, has principally led to this Important Event, at an earlier period than my most sanguine Hope had induced me to expect.” The rest was praise of others.
