2. SIEGE OF CHARLESTON.
Charleston had long been an object of cupidity on the part of the British. We have already had occasion to speak of an expedition under Sir Peter Parker and Generals Cornwallis and Howe, destined against that city, and the summary check they received at Fort Moultrie—that "old slaughter-pen"—every one of whose garrison was a hero, and the record of whose combined resistance can never be remembered but to the honor and praise of American valor. That repulse was not forgotten by the British, and, when next an attempt should be made, it was to be expected that preparations would be commensurate with the magnitude and difficulties of the enterprise.
It proved so. In the spring following the siege of Savannah, General Clinton left New York with ten thousand men, intent on the capture of Charleston. Lincoln was still at the head of the American troops in the South. But they were altogether inadequate to defend the city against so numerous and formidable a force as now appeared against him. For his own credit, as well as for the honor of the American arms, clearly he should have avoided a collision. But, over-persuaded by Governor Rutledge and other prominent citizens, and, moreover, reluctant to abandon a place which contained large public stores, or seem to yield where there was hope of success, he consented to remain, and accomplish whatever human wisdom, combined with American valor, could do.
On the 30th of March, General Clinton commenced the siege. He proceeded with a caution, to be explained only by the lesson taught the British at the siege of Fort Moultrie, and a determination not to be under the necessity of meeting with another such disastrous result. In another place, it should have been noted, that Fort Moultrie, in the present invasion, made no resistance, the contest, it being intended, should be on the mainland, and in the immediate vicinity of the city, where such defences had been erected as the authorities were able to provide.
On the 10th of April, the first parallel was completed, and Lincoln was summoned to surrender. To this summons, he replied: "that he felt it to be his duty, and it was also his instruction, to defend the place to the last extremity." Ten days elapsed, during which a second parallel was finished, and a second summons made and declined. A heavy and formidable cannonade was now opened by Clinton, which was kept up, with scarcely any remission, for several days. Meanwhile, Lincoln was almost constantly on duty—straining every muscle to resist the steady, but apparently fatal, advance of his foe. It is related of him, that "one day he was ten hours in the saddle, without once dismounting—riding hither and thither, with his great heart filled with anxious foreboding; and, the last fortnight, he never took off his clothes to rest. Flinging himself, in his uniform, on a couch, he would snatch a few moments' repose, and then again be seen riding along the lines."
Meanwhile, his defences became weakened, and his troops exhausted with labor and fatigue. They had little time to sleep, and even the supply of provisions was limited. Yet, Lincoln continued, day after day, to inspire them with courage and hope. All that a brave commander could do, he did—concealing the apprehensions which harrowed his inmost soul, and for which there were reasons; all that men could do, his noble few did—suffering privations seldom experienced during the revolutionary contest. It was a brave defence! It was a long, protracted, painful struggle! But it was in vain. At length, the batteries of the enemy had reached within eighty yards of the American defences, and preparations were making for a general storm. Thus environed by a formidable force, both by sea and land,
----"Nec spes opis ulla dabatur"—
it was the dictate of humanity, both in respect to the inhabitants of the city, and the brave, but exhausted, remnant of his devoted army, to capitulate. Accordingly, overtures were made to General Clinton, which were at length accepted. Charleston fell, and the entire army laid down arms. By the terms of capitulation, the garrison were to march out, and deposit their arms in front of the works; but, as a mark of humiliation, the drums were not to beat an American march, nor their colors to be displayed. This was severe; but the humiliation was remembered, when, eighteen months afterwards, Lord Cornwallis surrendered at Yorktown, and "waters of a full cup were wrung out" to him.