CHAPTER XXVII
_The Lion Turns Fox_
The Quaker road led southeast from Trenton until it reached the villageof Sandtown, where it turned to the northwest again, and it was notuntil that point was reached that the surprised soldiers realized thedaring nature of the manoeuvre, and the character of that night march,which they had at first considered another hopeless retreat. It wasastonishing, then, with what spirit and zeal the soldiers trampedsilently over the frozen roads; the raw, green militia vied with theveterans, in the fortitude with which they sustained the dreadfulfatigue of the severe march. The long distance to be traversed, onaccount of the detour to be made, rendered it necessary that the men bemoved at the highest possible speed. The road itself being a new one,lately cleared, the stumps and roots of trees not yet grubbed up, madeit difficult to transport the artillery and the wagons: but the tiredmen cheerfully assisted the tired horses, and the little army madegreat progress. The morning of Friday, January the 5th, dawned clearand cold, with the ground covered with hoar frost. About sunrise thearmy, with Washington again in the lead, reached the bridge over StonyBrook about three miles from the village of Princeton. Leading themain body across the bridge, they struck off from the main highwaythrough a by-road which was concealed by a grove of trees in the lowerground, and afforded a short cut to the town.
General Mercer was an old friend and comrade of the commander-in-chief;he had been a companion of Prince Charles Edward in his romanticinvasion of England in '45, a member of Braddock's unfortunateexpedition, and wounded when that general's army was annihilated; andsometime commander of Fort Du Quesne, after its capture by GeneralForbes. He was detailed, with a small advance party comprising theremnants of Smallwood's Marylanders, Haslet's Delawareans, andFleming's Virginians, and a small body of young men from the firstfamilies of Philadelphia, to the total number of three hundred, tocontinue up the road along the brook until he reached the main road,where he was to try and hold the bridge in order to intercept fugitivesfrom Princeton, or check any retrograde movement of the troops whichmight have advanced toward Trenton. The little band had proceeded buta short distance on their way, when they unexpectedly came in sight ofa column of the enemy.
It was the advance of the British, a part of Von Donop's leadingbrigade, _en route_ for Trenton to assist Cornwallis in bagging the"old fox" according to orders,--the Seventeenth Regiment, under ColonelMawhood. Mercer's troops being screened by the wood, their characterwas not visible to Mawhood, who conjectured that they must be a body offugitives from the front. Under this impression, and never dreaming ofthe true situation, Mawhood promptly deployed his regiment and movedoff to the left to intercept Mercer, at the same time despatchingmessengers to bring up the other two regiments, the Fortieth andFifty-fifth, which had not yet left Princeton. Both parties rushed fora little rising ground on the edge of a cleared field, near the houseof a peaceful Quaker named Clark. The Americans were nearer the goalthan their opponents, and reached it first. Hastily deploying hiscolumn, Mercer sought shelter behind a hedge fence which crowned theeminence, and immediately opened up a destructive fire from hisriflemen, which temporarily checked the advancing enemy. The British,excellently led, returned the fire with great spirit, and with suchgood effect that, after a few volleys, Mercer's horse was wounded inthe leg and his rider thrown violently to the ground, Talbot's waskilled under him, and several of the officers and men fell,--among themthe brave Colonel Haslet, who was mortally wounded. In the confusionthus unfortunately caused, the Americans could hear sharp commands ofthe English officers, then the rattling of steel on the gun-barrels,and the next moment the red-coated men broke out of the smoke and,unchecked by a scattering fire from the Americans, gallantly rushed upat them with fixed bayonets. There were unfortunately no bayonets inthis small brigade of the Continental army. A few of the men clubbedtheir muskets resolutely as the two lines met, and made a stoutresistance; but the on-coming British would not be denied, and, as thecharge was pressed home, the Americans wavered, broke, and fell back insome disorder before the vigorous onslaught of the veteran troops.Mercer, filled with shame, strove in vain to rally his men. Disdaininghimself to retreat, and gallantly calling upon them to advance, hethrew himself upon the advancing British line, sword in hand, followedby his officers, and for a brief space there was an exciting melee onthe hill. A blow from the butt end of a musket felled the general tothe ground. Talbot sprang to his side, and swept the bayonet away fromhis heart by a blow of his sword delivered with a quick movement of hispowerful arm. Mercer profited by the moment's respite to leap to hisfeet.
"Thank you, my lad," he said.
"Do you get to the rear and rally the men, general," cried Talbot,firing a pistol at short range into the midst of the crowding enemy."I 'll hold these men in play." But the fighting blood of the oldScotchman was up, and for answer he struck boldly at the man oppositehim.
"Surrender, you damned rebels!" cried an officer near them.
"Never!" replied Mercer, cutting down the man with whom he was engaged,while Talbot did the like to the one next him. With a roar of rage theBritish sprang on the two men. In a trice one of the bayonets got pastMercer's guard and grazed his arm, another buried itself in his bosom,a third struck him in the breast. The old man struck out weakly,dropped his sword and fell, pierced by a dozen wounds, but stillbreathing. Talbot, who was as yet unharmed, though covered with bloodand dust, his hat gone, stepped across his body.
He might have retreated, being young and active; but that was not thecustom of his family, neither would he abandon the body of his bravecommander; besides, every moment of delay was precious. Surely theywould be reinforced and rallied; he knew the promptness of Washingtontoo well to doubt it for a moment; and, last of all, what was lifewithout Kate? One glance he cast to the bright sky, flushed with thefirst rays of the rising sun, and then he stood on guard. The youngman's eyes were burning with the intoxication of the fight, and hissoul filled with great resolve; but his sword-play was as cool and asrapid as it had been in the Salle des Armes at Paris, where few couldbe found to master him. The little group of British paused a moment inadmiration of his courage.
"One at a time, gentlemen," he cried, smiling, and warding off avicious bayonet thrust. "Are there none here who will cross swordswith me, for the honor of their flag?"
The young lieutenant in command of that part of the line promptlysprang forward and engaged; the two blades rang fiercely together, andgrated along each other a moment later. The men stepped back. But thebrave lieutenant had met his match, and, with set lips and iron arm,Talbot drove home his blade in the other's heart. Ere he could recoverhimself or withdraw his sword, he was beaten to his knees by a blowfrom a gun-barrel; the blood ran down over his face.
"Surrender! surrender!" they cried to him, "and we will spare yourlife."
For answer his hand sought his remaining pistol. The first one of hisopponents fell dead with a bullet through his heart, and the nextmoment the deadly steel of a bayonet was buried in Talbot's throat.
"Kate--Kate!" he cried in agony, the blood bubbling from his lips, andthen another bayonet found his gallant heart; and he sank down on hisface, at the foot of the dying officer, his lips kissing the soil ofthat country in defence of whose liberties he had fallen.
As was customary with his family, he had died on the field, grimlyfacing fearful odds to the last. The last of his line, he had made agood ending, not unworthy his distinguished ancestry; for none of theproud and gallant race had ever died in the service of a better cause,be it that of king or Parliament, than this young soldier who had justlaid down his life for love of his country!
The slight check afforded by the interposition of the Americans wasover. The British were sweeping everything before them, when ColonelMawhood, the cool-headed officer, who had been sitting on a littlebrown pony, with a small switch in his hand, directing the combat,became aware of a large body of men coming up on his right flankthrough the wood. With
the readiness of a practised soldier, heinstantly stopped the advance of his men, wheeled them about, broughtup his guns, and prepared to open fire. The American officers had timeto mark with admiration the skill with which the manoeuvre waseffected, and the beautiful precision with which the men carried outtheir orders. Then the force, a large body of Pennsylvania militiawhich Washington had despatched at the first sound of firing in thedirection of Mercer, broke out of the wood, and advanced rapidly. Themuskets of the redcoats were quickly brought to the shoulder, and atthe word of command the British line was suddenly tipped with fire andthen covered with smoke. Many of the militia fell at this volleydelivered at close range; some of the fallen lay still and motionless,while others groaned with pain; the raw troops fired hastily into thesmoke, then hesitated and stopped uncertainly as the volley wasrepeated. It was another critical moment, and the hour brought the man.
Washington himself had most opportunely arrived on the field in advanceof the troops, attended by Seymour. One glance showed him Mercer'sbroken retreating column and the hesitating Pennsylvania militia!Everything was at stake. It was not a time for strategic manoeuvresnow, but for men--nay, there were men there as good as ever fought--butfor a man then. Providentially one was at hand. Putting spurs to hisgallant white horse, he rode down the line in front of the Pennsylvaniamilitia, waving his hat and cheering them on.
"An old-fashioned Virginia fox-hunt, gentlemen!" he cried gayly, givingthe view halloo! Galloping forward under the fire of the Britishbattery, he called to Mercer's shattered men. They halted and facedabout; the Seventh Virginia broke through the wood on the flank of theBritish; Hitchcock's New Englanders came up on the run with fixedbayonets; Moulder's Philadelphia battery opened fire from the hill onthe opposing guns.
The fire of a warrior had now supplanted the coolness of a general.Dashing boldly forward, reckless of the storm of bullets, to withinthirty yards of the British line, and smiling with stern pleasure inthe crisis which seemed to develop and bring out every fibre of hisdeep nature, he called upon his men to come on. Recovering themselves,they responded with the utmost gallantry. Mawhood was surrounded andoutnumbered, his victory suddenly changed to defeat; but, excellentsoldier that he was, he fought on with desperate resolution, and theconflict was exceedingly hot. Washington was in the thick of it.Seymour, who had followed him closely until the general broke away inthe smoke to lead the charge, lost sight of him for a moment, envelopedas he was in the dust and smoke of the battle. When he saw him emergefrom the cloud, waving his sword, and beheld the enemy giving way onevery side, he spurred up to him.
"Thank God!" he said; "your excellency is safe."
"Away! away! my dear Seymour," he cried, "and bring up the troops. Theday is our own!"
To the day of his death Seymour never lost the splendid impression ofthat heroic figure, the ruddy face streaked with smoke and dust, theeyes blazing with the joy of battle, the excitement of the charge, themighty sweep of the mighty arm! Mawhood's men were, indeed, routed inevery direction; most of them laid down their arms. A small partyonly, under that intrepid leader, succeeded in forcing its way throughthe American ranks with the bayonet, and ran at full speed towardTrenton under the stimulus of a hot pursuit.
Meanwhile the Fifty-fifth Regiment had been vigorously attacked by St.Clair's brigade, and, after a short action, those who could get awaywere in full retreat towards New Brunswick. The last regiment, theFortieth, had not been able to get into action at all; a part of itfled in a panic, with the remains of the Fifty-fifth, towards NewBrunswick, hotly pursued by Washington with the Philadelphia City Troopand what cavalry he could muster, and the rest took refuge in thecollege building in Princeton, from which they were dislodged byartillery and compelled to surrender. The British loss was about fivehundred in killed and wounded and prisoners, the American less than onehundred; but among the latter were many valuable officers,--ColonelsHaslet and Potter, Major Morris, Captains Shippen, Fleming, Talbot,Neal, and General Mercer.
After following the retiring and demoralized British for a few miles,Washington determined to abandon the pursuit. The men were exhaustedby their long and fatiguing marches, and were in no condition to makethe long march to New Brunswick; most of them were still ill equippedand entirely unfitted for the fatigue and exposure of a further wintercampaign,--even those iron men must have rest at last. The flyingBritish must have informed Leslie's troops, six miles away, of thesituation; they would soon be upon them, and they might expectCornwallis with his whole force at any time. He drew off his troops,therefore, and, leaving a strong party to break down the bridge overStony Brook and impede the advance of the English as much as possible,he pushed on towards Pluckamin and Morristown, officers and menthoroughly satisfied with their brilliant achievements.
Early in the morning the pickets of Cornwallis' army discovered thatsomething was wrong in the American camp; the guard had been withdrawn,the fires had been allowed to die away, and the place was as still asdeath. A few adventurous spirits, cautiously crossing the bridge,found that the guns mounted in front of it were only "quakers," andthat the whole camp was empty,--the army had decamped silently, andstolen away before their eyes! My Lord Cornwallis, rudely disturbedfrom those rosy dreams of conquest with which a mocking spirit hadbeguiled his slumber, would not credit the first report of hisastonished officers; but investigation showed him that the "old fox"was gone, and he would not be bagged that morning--nor on any othermorning, either! But where had he gone? For a time the perplexed andchagrined commander could not ascertain.
The Americans had vanished--disappeared--leaving absolutely no tracebehind them, and it was not until he heard the heavy booming of cannonfrom the northeast, borne upon the frosty air of the cold morning aboutsunrise, that he divined the brilliant plan of his wily antagonist anddiscovered his whereabouts. He had been outfought, outmanoeuvred,outflanked, and outgeneralled! The disgusted British were sent backover the familiar road to Princeton, now in hotter haste than before.His rear-guard menaced, perhaps overwhelmed, his stores and supplies indanger, Cornwallis pushed on for life this time. The English officerconceived a healthy respect for Washington at this juncture which didnot leave him thereafter.
The short distance between Trenton and Princeton on the direct road waspassed in a remarkably short time by the now thoroughly aroused andanxious British. A little party under command of Seymour and Kelly,which had been assiduously engaged in breaking down the bridge overStony Brook, was observed and driven away by two field-pieces, whichhad been halted and unlimbered on a commanding hill, and which openedfire while the troops advanced on a run; but the damage had been done,and the bridge was already impassable. After a futile attempt torepair it, in which much time was lost, the indefatigable earl sent histroops through the icy water of the turbulent stream, which rosebreast-high upon the eager men, and the hasty pursuit was once moreresumed. A mile or so beyond the bridge the whole army was brought toa stand by a sudden discharge from a heavy gun, which did someexecution; it was mounted in a breastwork some distance ahead. Thearmy was halted, men were sent ahead to reconnoitre, and a strongcolumn deployed to storm what was supposed to be a heavy battery. Whenthe storming party reached the works, there was no one there! A lonethirty-two-pounder, too unwieldy to accompany the rapid march of theAmericans, had been left behind, and Philip Wilton had volunteered toremain, after Seymour's party had passed, and further delay the Britishby firing it at their army as soon as they came in range. These delayshad given Washington so much of a start that Cornwallis, despairing ofever overtaking him, finally gave up the pursuit, and pushed on ingreat anxiety to New Brunswick, to save, if possible, his magazines,which he had the satisfaction in the end of finding intact.
To complete this brief _resume_ of one of the remarkable campaigns ofhistory, Washington strongly fortified himself on Cornwallis' flank atMorristown, menacing each of the three depots held by the Britishoutside New York; Putnam advanced from Philadelphia to Trenton, withthe m
ilitia; and Heath moved down to the highlands of the Hudson. Thecountry people of New Jersey rose and cut off scattered detachments ofthe British in every direction, until the whole of the field waseventually abandoned by them, except Amboy, Newark, and New Brunswick.The world witnessed the singular spectacle of a large, well-appointedarmy of veteran soldiery, under able leaders, shut up in practicallyone spot, New York and a few near-by villages, and held thereinexorably by a phantom army which never was more than half the size ofthat it held in check! The results of the six months' campaign were tobe seen in the possession of the city of New York by the British army.That army, which had won, practically, all the battles in which it hadengaged, which had followed the Americans through six months ofdisastrous defeat and retreat, and had overrun two colonies, now hadnothing to show for all its efforts but the ground upon which it stood!And this was the result of the genius, the courage, the audacity of oneman,--George Washington! The world was astounded, and he took anassured place thenceforward among the first soldiers of that or any age.
Even the English themselves could not withhold their admiration. Thegallant and brave Cornwallis, a soldier of no mean ability himself, andwell able to estimate what could be done with a small and feeble force,never forgot his surprise at the Assunpink; and when he congratulatedWashington, at the surrender of Yorktown years after, upon thebrilliant combination which had resulted in the capture of the army, headded these words: "But, after all, your excellency's achievements inthe Jerseys were such that nothing could surpass them!" And the wittyand wise old cynic, Mr. Horace Walpole, with his usual discrimination,wrote to a friend, Sir Horace Mann, when he heard of the affair atTrenton, the night march to Princeton, and the successful attack there:"Washington, the dictator, has shown himself both a Fabius and aCamillus. His march through our lines is allowed to have been aprodigy of generalship!"
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