Thus the dreary summer of 1780 lingered away, over our war-scathed, woe-stricken land. There were many bloody conflicts, but no decisive battles. Still Washington was victorious; for he thwarted all the herculean endeavors of the British to enslave our land.
In the opening spring of the year 1781, the British turned their main energies of devastation and ruin against the South. Richmond, in Virginia, was laid in ashes. With their armed vessels they ravaged the shores of the Chesapeake and the Potomac. They landed at Mount Vernon, and would have applied the torch to every building, and trampled down all the harvests, had not the manager of the estate ransomed the property by bringing in a large quantity of supplies. When Washington heard of this he was much displeased. He wrote to his agent:
“It would have been a less painful circumstance to me to have heard that in consequence of your non-compliance with their request, they had burned my house and laid the plantation in ruins. You ought to have considered yourself as my representative, and should have reflected on the bad example of communicating with the enemy, and of making a voluntary offer of refreshments to them with a view to prevent the conflagration.”
Still the prospects of the country were dark. The army dwindled away to three thousand men. There was no money in the treasury. The paper money issued by Congress had become quite valueless. The British, exasperated by defeats, and humiliated in seeing their fleets and armies held at bay so long by a foe so feeble, were summoning their mightiest energies to close the war as with a clap of thunder.
Cornwallis was now with a well-equipped army at Yorktown, in Virginia. There was no foe to oppose him. Washington made a secret movement, in conjunction with our generous allies, for his capture. He deceived the British by making them believe that he was preparing for the siege of New York. One bright and sunny morning in September, Cornwallis was surprised, and quite astounded in seeing the heights around him glistening with the bayonets and frowning with the batteries of the Americans. And at the same time a French fleet was ascending the bay, and casting anchor before the harbor. The British general was caught in a trap. A few days of hopeless despairing conflict ensued, when famine and the carnage of incessant bombardment compelled him to surrender. It was the 19th of October, 1781.
Awful was the humiliation of Cornwallis. Seven thousand British regulars threw down their arms. One hundred and sixty pieces of cannon graced this memorable triumph. The noble Washington, as the British troops were marching from their ramparts to become captives of war, said to the Americans:
“My brave fellows, let no sensation of satisfaction for the triumphs you have gained induce you to insult your fallen enemy. Let no shouting, no clamorous huzzaing increase their mortification. Posterity will huzza for us.”
The next day he issued the following characteristic order to the army:
“Divine service is to be performed to-morrow, in the several brigades and divisions. The commander-in-chief earnestly recommends that the troops not on duty should universally attend, with that seriousness of deportment and gratitude of heart which the recognition of such reiterated and astonishing interpositions of Providence demand of us.”
It was midnight when the rapturous tidings reached Philadelphia. A watchman traversed the streets shouting at intervals, “Past twelve o’clock, and a pleasant morning. Cornwallis is taken.”