General Morgan Praying—Page [38].
The spirit which endured such trials was the best surety of their success. But reinforcements had been received in Quebec. The garrison was prepared, and Arnold, after making some demonstrations, retired to Point au Tremble, twenty miles distant, to await the coming of Montgomery. When the two forces were joined, they were yet inadequate to the attack of the strongest fortress in America; but the hero who now commanded the Americans could not endure the thought of retreat.
On the last day of the year 1775, in the midst of a furious snowstorm, the memorable attack was made. On this occasion it was, as Morgan confessed afterward, that he was "afraid"—but fear, to his nature, was not a passion which weakened him, but which urged him on. It was not for himself, personally, that he was afraid; no, he dreaded the effect of a defeat upon his country; he could not see, without shrinking, his brave friends and comrades rushing upon what seemed like death in the land of the enemy. In his own words we have his thoughts:
"The night we stormed Quebec, while I was waiting with my men, in the cold, driving storm, for the word to advance, I felt unhappy; I looked up at the frowning battlements above me, and then around upon my armful of men, and felt that the enterprise was more than perilous; I felt that nothing short of a miracle could prevent our being destroyed in a contest where we fought at such an immense disadvantage. With such feelings I stepped aside, and kneeling down in the snow, alongside an old gun, with the storm beating into my face, I poured out my soul in an humble petition to God, beseeching him to be my shield and protection in the coming struggle—for nothing but an Almighty arm could save us—and I really and sincerely feel that I owed my safety to the interposition of Providence, and I thought so at the time."
In the attack which followed, and which was unsuccessful, Morgan did all that a brave man could do. He scaled the walls of the fortress, and sprung down alone amid the surprised garrison, though speedily followed by numbers of his men. The enemy, appalled by such heroism, fell back to the second barrier, and here, had he been properly supported, Morgan might have been again successful; but the men had rendered their guns useless; the riflemen who had followed him were unsupported; to face a double row of bayonets and climb a wall was beyond the power of the most desperately brave. After an obstinate resistance Morgan and his corps were forced to surrender.
So much did Morgan's bravery impress the English, that, when a prisoner in their hands, he was offered the rank of Colonel in the English service, and many persuasive reasons were given why he should accept it. It need not be said that he rejected the temptation with scorn.
General Daniel Morgan was born of Welch parentage, in New Jersey, in the year 1736. Like so many of our most illustrious heroes, he was a "self-made man." His family, which belonged to the "middle class," had an interest in some Virginia lands, to attend to which he visited that colony when about seventeen years old. Glowing with health, and full of that love of adventure which always characterized him, he determined to remain in Virginia, and begin the business of life for himself. He had money enough for the purchase of a wagon and pair of horses. With these he entered upon the employment which gave him the name of the "wagoner" long after he had risen to military fame. He remained near Winchester for about two years. When General Braddock's army commenced its march against Fort Duquesne it was accompanied by several corps of provincial troops. Morgan, the "ruling passion" thus early displaying itself, joined one of these corps. He drove his own team in the baggage-train. On the way occurred one of those instances, too frequent in military experience, where the power of an officer is used with meanness and tyranny against the soldier in his power. The ruggedness of the way causing much trouble with the train, and Morgan's team becoming impeded, along with many others, a British officer approached him, and, with much impatience demanded why he did not move along. He replied that he would move as soon as he was able. The officer, yielding to his irritable temper, with unmerited harshness declared that if he did not move along he would run him through with his sword. The high spirit of the wagoner-boy could not brook this insult; he gave a fierce reply, when the officer at once made a pass at him with his weapon. Morgan held in his hand a heavy wagon-whip; parrying the stroke with the quickness of thought, he closed with his superior; the sword was broken in the struggle; then, using his whip with the skill which long practice had given him, he inflicted upon the Englishman a severe castigation. Such a breach of military law of course was not to be forgiven. Morgan was tried by a court-martial, which sentenced him to receive five hundred lashes. The sentence was carried into effect. The young victim bore this horrible punishment with mute heroism, silently fainting from torture and exhaustion, while fifty lashes were yet in reserve, which were of necessity remitted. Three days afterward, the officer who had been the occasion of this barbarity became convinced of his injustice, and, seeking Morgan in the camp hospital, implored his forgiveness. Through this miserable occurrence, the brave young volunteer was disabled from duty, and escaped the danger and disgrace of Braddock's defeat.
Not long after his return from this unhappy campaign, he was appointed an ensign in the colonial service. His merit had become apparent to the Government of the colony; already he had won the friendship of Washington, which afterward availed him on many trying occasions. His known courage and activity caused him to be employed in the most dangerous services. On one occasion, accompanied by two soldiers, he was carrying dispatches to one of the frontiers of Virginia, infested by cunning and ferocious savages. While in cautious progress through the forest, unaware that any eye was upon them, or any stealthy step tracking them fatally and silently, suddenly the discharge of rifles was heard; his two companions fell dead by his side. Morgan himself received the only severe wound he ever had during his military career; a rifle ball entered the back of his neck, and, shattering his jaw, passed out through his left cheek. Though he believed himself mortally wounded, his presence of mind did not fail. Leaning forward on his saddle, he grasped the mane of his horse, and pressing the spurs into his sides, darted forward at full speed toward the fort. A single Indian followed him, eager for his scalp. Morgan, in after years, often spoke of the appearance of this savage, who ran with his mouth open, and his tomahawk raised to strike the fatal blow. Finding his pursuit in vain, the Indian finally threw the tomahawk with all his force, hoping it would hit the soldier; but it fell short; the horse, with his bleeding rider, gained the fort. Morgan was perfectly insensible when taken from the animal; but proper treatment, and the vigor of his constitution, restored him to health in six months.
From this time until the commencement of the Revolutionary War, he remained in Frederick, employed in his old business as a wagoner. At this time, he was wild and reckless, proud of his immense strength, inclining to rough society, fond of the most rollicking pastimes, and even, it is said, frequenting the gaming-table. His nature was of that active and superabundant kind, that he could not live without excitement; that which in times of idleness became a fault, or almost a crime, leading him into wild excesses, was the same energy which, as soon as there was a noble object for its exercise, sprung to the labor of defending liberty.