While the war was languishing in the North it was being carried on with vigor in the South. Sir Henry Clinton, in the spring of 1780, captured the city of Charleston, with General Lincoln and all his army. Clinton then returned to New York, leaving Lord Cornwallis in command of the British. Another American army, mostly militiamen and new recruits, many of whom had never handled a bayonet, was formed in North Carolina, and placed unfortunately under the command of the incompetent Gates. The British met Gates at Sander's Creek, near Camden, and after a sharp conflict the Americans were completely routed. British and Tories were now more barbarous than ever in their treatment of patriots who fell into their hands, and repeated executions of Americans on pretended charges of violating compulsory oaths of allegiance, or no charges at all, excited thirst for retribution among the friends of liberty. General Nathaniel Greene, of Quaker birth, but one of the greatest soldiers of the Revolution, was sent to command a new army of the South; with Daniel Morgan, William Washington and Henry Lee—known as "Light-horse Harry" and father of the Confederate commander, Robert E. Lee—as his lieutenants. Morgan, at Cowpens, annihilated Tarleton's Legion, which had committed many cruelties in South Carolina. Greene fought the British at Guilford, Hobkirk's Hill and Eutaw Springs, and although he did not win a battle, he left the enemy, on each occasion, in much worse condition than before the encounter. Cornwallis, the British commander, although not defeated, was becoming weaker and weaker, and he retreated into Virginia, from an enemy whose every repulse was a British disaster.
The final act in the mighty drama was now approaching. From the Potomac to the confines of Florida the Southland was aroused against the British as it never could have been aroused except for the barbarities which Cornwallis perpetrated and sanctioned. The British commander was behind the intrenchments at Yorktown with an army of about eight thousand men and a horde of Tories who had been willing agents in carrying out against their own countrymen the atrocious decrees which for a time made a Poland of the Carolinas. Sir Henry Clinton, thoroughly deceived by the movements of Washington and Rochambeau, was anxious only to protect New York, and the victorious fleet of France was prepared to cut off the escape of Cornwallis by the sea. Washington and Rochambeau, with the allied armies, marched against Yorktown from their rendezvous at Williamsburg on September 28. They drove in the British outposts, and began siege operations so promptly and vigorously that the place was completely invested on the thirtieth by a semi-circular line of the allied forces, each wing resting on the York River. The Americans held the right; the French the left. A small body of British at Gloucester, opposite Yorktown, was beset by a force consisting of French dragoons and marines, and Virginia militia. Heavy ordnance was brought from the French ships, and on the afternoon of October 9, the artillery opened on the British. Red-hot balls were hurled upon the British vessels in the river, and the flames shooting up from a 44-gun ship showed that fire was doing its work. Under cover of night parallels were thrown up closer and closer to the British lines, and the besieged saw the chain which they could not break tightening around them. The Americans and French carried by storm two redoubts which commanded the trenches, and now Cornwallis had to take his choice between flight or surrender, if flight were possible. He determined to flee, but a terrible storm made the passing of the river too dangerous, and a few troops who had crossed over were brought back to Yorktown.
French and Americans poured shot and shell into the British intrenchments, and the bombardment grew heavier day by day. The superior forces and strong situation of the besiegers made it impossible to break through their lines. It would not even have been a forlorn hope. No course now remained but to surrender. Cornwallis sought to make the best terms possible. He has been severely and plausibly criticised for abandoning the Tory refugees to American justice and vengeance. Horace Walpole, writing in safe and comfortable quarters, far from siege or battlefield, said that Cornwallis "ought to have declared that he would die rather than sacrifice the poor Americans who had followed him from loyalty, against their countrymen." Had Cornwallis so declared he would doubtless have had a chance to die without any objection on the part of the patriots on whose friends and relatives he had inflicted devilish cruelties. Cornwallis was obliged to choose between perishing with all his army, or accepting the terms which his conquerors saw fit to grant. Apart from the formal articles of surrender he obtained the informal consent of the allies that certain Tories most obnoxious to their countrymen should be permitted to depart to New York in the vessel which carried dispatches from the British commander to Sir Henry Clinton.[2] ] General Lincoln, who had been compelled to surrender to the royal troops at Charleston in the previous year, received the sword of Cornwallis from General O'Hara, and twenty-eight British captains, each bearing a flag in a case, handed over their colors to twenty-eight American sergeants. The number of troops surrendered was about 7000, and to these were added 2000 sailors, 1500 Tories and 1800 negroes. The British lost during the siege in killed, wounded and missing about 550 men; the Americans lost about 300. The spoils included nearly 8000 muskets, 75 brass and 160 iron cannon and a large quantity of munitions of war and military stores, as well as "about one hundred vessels, above fifty of them square-rigged."[3] ] On the day after the surrender Washington ordered every American soldier under arrest or in confinement to be set at liberty, and as the next day would be Sunday he directed that divine service should be performed in the several brigades.
"Oh God, it is all over!" exclaimed Lord North, on hearing that Cornwallis had surrendered. And it was all over, although we have Franklin's authority that George III. continued to hope for a revival of his sovereignty over America "on the same terms as are now making with Ireland." These hopes were soon dissipated, and a treaty of peace was finally signed at Paris, September 23, 1783. The British troops sailed away from New York on November 25, and General Washington, after a tender parting with his officers, resigned his commission. A great number of Tory refugees departed from New York with the British, but it is doubtful whether their lot was happier than that of those who remained to accept the new order of things. It is only necessary to glance at the diary of Hutchinson, the royalist governor of Massachusetts, to perceive that, even under the most favorable circumstances, the situation of the exiled Tories was miserable indeed. Many of them settled in Canada, there to hand down to their descendants feelings of antipathy which, in America, have long been discarded. Many of them wisely returned to the United States, and were magnanimously forgiven and received as brethren and citizens. No voice was raised to plead more eloquently in their behalf than that of Patrick Henry. "I feel no objection," he exclaimed, "to the return of those deluded people. They have, to be sure, mistaken their own interests most wofully, and most wofully have they suffered the punishment due to their offences. * * * Afraid of them!—what, sir—shall we who have laid the proud British lion at our feet, now be afraid of his whelps?"