In these dark hours France generously came to the aid of the patriots, struggling for freedom in America against such desperate odds. The tidings of the French Alliance awoke new emotions of joy in the weary hearts at Valley Forge. The British army in Philadelphia amounted to not less than thirty thousand men. They were greatly alarmed. The danger was imminent that a French fleet might appear in the Delaware and cut off their retreat by water, while the American farmers, thus encouraged, would rise en masse and prevent their escape by land. This doubtless would have been their doom but for a succession of storms which delayed the French fleet.
With precipitation, the British evacuated Philadelphia. Their heavy material of war was shipped to New York. The troops marched very cautiously through New Jersey. Washington followed closely in their rear. The 28th of June was a day of intense heat. The British were at Monmouth. The march of another day would unite them with the troops in New York. They would then be safe from attack. Washington was extremely anxious that they should not escape without receiving at least one heavy blow.
Lee was in the advance with five thousand men. Washington ordered him to make an impetuous assault, promising to hasten to his support. Instead of obeying orders this strange man, of undoubted abilities but of inexplicable eccentricity, commenced a retreat. Intense, beyond the power of utterance, was the chagrin of Washington as he met Lee, at the head of his troops, in this retrograde movement. In tones of anguish he exclaimed: “What means this ill-timed prudence?” Lee instantly replied:
“I know of no man blessed with a larger portion of that rascally virtue than your Excellency.”
There was no time for altercation. Lee’s men felt humiliated. As soon as they caught sight of Washington they greeted him with cheers. Promptly they wheeled around at his command, and rushed upon the foe. A bloody battle ensued with all its ordinary complications of uproar, tumult, woe and death.
The British were routed and driven from the field. The Americans, exhilarated by their success, slept upon the field with their arms by their side, and impatiently awaited the morning, eager to renew the battle. Signal as had been their success, it would have been far more decisive had General Lee obeyed orders. General Washington wrapped himself in his cloak, and slept in the midst of his soldiers.
In the night the vanquished British silently stole away. In the morning no foe was to be seen. There were left three hundred of the mutilated bodies of their dead unburied upon the plain. Sixty prisoners were taken, and six hundred deserted the ranks, and scattered through the country. They were disgusted with the infamous service into which they had been driven by kings and courts, and were kindly received by the American farmers. At Middletown the remains of the fugitive army, protected by the guns of the fleet, embarked and were conveyed to New York.
Thus another summer passed away of marches, countermarches and skirmishes, many of them bloody and woeful, but without any decisive results. The inhuman court of England, disheartened by the wholesale desertion of troops, both English and German, and disappointed in their inability to enlist Tories for the war, redoubled their efforts to summon the demoniac savages to their aid. Loud were the remonstrances against this atrocious conduct by many of the noblest men of England, both in the Commons and in the House of Lords. But the King and the Court declared, that in order to subdue America they had a right to use whatever instruments God and nature had placed in their hands. The British sent agents to the cruel savages of the Mohawk to rouse the fierce warriors of the Six Nations against the feeble villages of the frontier. It was a demoniac deed. Scenes of horror were witnessed too awful for recital. The annals of our globe contain scarcely any tragedies more awful than the massacres of Cherry Valley and Wyoming. The narrative of these deeds sent a thrill of horror not only throughout France and America, but into multitudes of humane hearts in England. Some Englishmen pleaded earnestly for us, like Lord Chatham, in the House of Lords. We shall never forget his words as he exclaimed, in view of these outrages:
“Were I an American as I am an Englishman, I would never lay down my arms, never—never—NEVER.”
Washington sent four thousand men to defend, as far as possible, the poor, helpless pioneers from the torch and the scalping-knife. Hundreds of lowly homes were laid in ashes. Hundreds of families, parents and children, were butchered, before the savages were driven from their murderous work. They fled at length to Niagara, where the British received their allies into their fortresses.