THE BATTLE OF TRENTON

And such they are--and such they will be found:
Not so Leonidas and Washington,
Their every battle-field is holy ground
Which breathes of nations saved, not worlds undone.
How sweetly on the ear such echoes sound!
While the mere victor's may appal or stun
The servile and the vain, such names will be
A watchword till the future shall be free.
--Byron.

THE BATTLE OF TRENTON

In December, 1776, the American Revolution was at its lowest ebb.
The first burst of enthusiasm, which drove the British back from
Concord and met them hand to hand at Bunker Hill, which forced
them to abandon Boston and repulsed their attack at Charleston,
had spent its force. The undisciplined American forces called
suddenly from the workshop and the farm had given way, under the
strain of a prolonged contest, and had been greatly scattered,
many of the soldiers returning to their homes. The power of
England, on the other hand, with her disciplined army and
abundant resources, had begun to tell. Washington, fighting
stubbornly, had been driven during the summer and autumn from
Long Island up the Hudson, and New York had passed into the hands
of the British. Then Forts Lee and Washington had been lost, and
finally the Continental army had retreated to New Jersey. On the
second of December Washington was at Princeton with some three
thousand ragged soldiers, and had escaped destruction only by the
rapidity of his movements. By the middle of the month General
Howe felt that the American army, unable as he believed either to
fight or to withstand the winter, must soon dissolve, and,
posting strong detachments at various points, he took up his
winter quarters in New York. The British general had under his
command in his various divisions twenty-five thousand
well-disciplined soldiers, and the conclusion he had reached was
not an unreasonable one; everything, in fact, seemed to confirm
his opinion. Thousands of the colonists were coming in and
accepting his amnesty. The American militia had left the field,
and no more would turn out, despite Washington's earnest appeals.
All that remained of the American Revolution was the little
Continental army and the man who led it.

Yet even in this dark hour Washington did not despair. He sent in
every direction for troops. Nothing was forgotten. Nothing that
he could do was left undone. Unceasingly he urged action upon
Congress, and at the same time with indomitable fighting spirit
he planned to attack the British. It was a desperate undertaking
in the face of such heavy odds, for in all his divisions he had
only some six thousand men, and even these were scattered. The
single hope was that by his own skill and courage he could snatch
victory from a situation where victory seemed impossible. With
the instinct of a great commander he saw that his only chance was
to fight the British detachments suddenly, unexpectedly, and
separately, and to do this not only required secrecy and perfect
judgment, but also the cool, unwavering courage of which, under
such circumstances, very few men have proved themselves capable.
As Christmas approached his plans were ready. He determined to
fall upon the British detachment of Hessians, under Colonel Rahl,
at Trenton, and there strike his first blow. To each division of
his little army a part in the attack was assigned with careful
forethought. Nothing was overlooked and nothing omitted, and
then, for some reason good or bad, every one of the division
commanders failed to do his part. As the general plan was
arranged, Gates was to march from Bristol with two thousand men;
Ewing was to cross at Trenton; Putnam was to come up from
Philadelphia; and Griffin was to make a diversion against Donop.
When the moment came, Gates, who disapproved the plan, was on his
way to Congress; Griffin abandoned New Jersey and fled before
Donop; Putnam did not attempt to leave Philadelphia; and Ewing
made no effort to cross at Trenton. Cadwalader came down from
Bristol, looked at the river and the floating ice, and then gave
it up as desperate. Nothing remained except Washington himself
with the main army, but he neither gave up, nor hesitated, nor
stopped on account of the ice, or the river, or the perils which
lay beyond. On Christmas Eve, when all the Christian world was
feasting and rejoicing, and while the British were enjoying
themselves in their comfortable quarters, Washington set out.
With twentyfour hundred men he crossed the Delaware through the
floating ice, his boats managed and rowed by the sturdy fishermen
of Marblehead from Glover's regiment. The crossing was
successful, and he landed about nine miles from Trenton. It was
bitter cold, and the sleet and snow drove sharply in the faces of
the troops. Sullivan, marching by the river, sent word that the
arms of his soldiers were wet. "Tell your general," was
Washington's reply to the message, "to use the bayonet, for the
town must be taken." When they reached Trenton it was broad
daylight. Washington, at the front and on the right of the line,
swept down the Pennington road, and, as he drove back the Hessian
pickets, he heard the shout of Sullivan's men as, with Stark
leading the van, they charged in from the river. A company of
jaegers and of light dragoons slipped away. There was some
fighting in the streets, but the attack was so strong and well
calculated that resistance was useless. Colonel Rahl, the British
commander, aroused from his revels, was killed as he rushed out
to rally his men, and in a few moments all was over. A thousand
prisoners fell into Washington's hands, and this important
detachment of the enemy was cut off and destroyed.

The news of Trenton alarmed the British, and Lord Cornwallis with
seven thousand of the best troops started at once from New York
in hot pursuit of the American army. Washington, who had now
rallied some five thousand men, fell back, skirmishing heavily,
behind the Assunpink, and when Cornwallis reached the river he
found the American army awaiting him on the other side of the
stream. Night was falling, and Cornwallis, feeling sure of his
prey, decided that he would not risk an assault until the next
morning. Many lessons had not yet taught him that it was a fatal
business to give even twelve hours to the great soldier opposed
to him. During the night Washington, leaving his fires burning
and taking a roundabout road which he had already reconnoitered,
marched to Princeton. There he struck another British detachment.
A sharp fight ensued, the British division was broken and
defeated, losing some five hundred men, and Washington withdrew
after this second victory to the highlands of New Jersey to rest
and recruit.

Frederick the Great is reported to have said that this was the
most brilliant campaign of the century. With a force very much
smaller than that of the enemy, Washington had succeeded in
striking the British at two places with superior forces at each
point of contact. At Trenton he had the benefit of a surprise,
but the second time he was between two hostile armies. He was
ready to fight Cornwallis when the latter reached the Assunpink,
trusting to the strength of his position to make up for his
inferiority of numbers. But when Cornwallis gave him the delay
of. a night, Washington, seeing the advantage offered by his
enemy's mistake, at once changed his whole plan, and, turning in
his tracks, fell upon the smaller of the two forces opposed to
him, wrecking and defeating it before the outgeneraled Cornwallis
could get up with the main army. Washington had thus shown the
highest form of military skill, for there is nothing that
requires so much judgment and knowledge, so much certainty of
movement and quick decision, as to meet a superior enemy at
different points, force the fighting, and at each point to
outnumber and overwhelm him.

But the military part of this great campaign was not all. Many
great soldiers have not been statesmen, and have failed to
realize the political necessities of the situation. Washington
presented the rare combination of a great soldier and a great
statesman as well. He aimed not only to win battles, but by his
operations in the field to influence the political situation and
affect public opinion. The American Revolution was going to
pieces. Unless some decisive victory could be won immediately, it
would have come to an end in the winter of 1776-77. This
Washington knew, and it was this which nerved his arm. The
results justified his forethought. The victories of Trenton and
Princeton restored the failing spirits of the people, and, what
was hardly less important, produced a deep impression in Europe
in favor of the colonies. The country, which had lost heart, and
become supine and almost hostile, revived. The militia again took
the field. Outlying parties of the British were attacked and cut
off, and recruits once more began to come in to the Continental
army. The Revolution was saved. That the English colonies in
North America would have broken away from the mother country
sooner or later cannot be doubted, but that particular Revolution
Of 1776 would have failed within a year, had it not been for
Washington. It is not, however, merely the fact that he was a
great soldier and statesman which we should remember. The most
memorable thing to us, and to all men, is the heroic spirit of
the man, which rose in those dreary December days to its greatest
height, under conditions so adverse that they had crushed the
hope of every one else. Let it be remembered, also, that it was
not a spirit of desperation or of ignorance, a reckless daring
which did not count the cost. No one knew better than
Washington--no one, indeed, so well--the exact state of affairs;
for he, conspicuously among great men, always looked facts
fearlessly in the face, and never deceived himself. He was under
no illusions, and it was this high quality of mind as much as any
other which enabled him to win victories.

How he really felt we know from what he wrote to Congress on
December 20, when he said: "It may be thought that I am going a
good deal out of the line of my duty to adopt these measures or
to advise thus freely. A character to lose, an estate to forfeit,
the inestimable blessing of liberty at stake, and a life devoted,
must be my excuse." These were the thoughts in his mind when he
was planning this masterly campaign. These same thoughts, we may
readily believe, were with him when his boat was making its way
through the ice of the Delaware on Christmas Eve. It was a very
solemn moment, and he was the only man in the darkness of that
night who fully understood what was at stake; but then, as
always, he was calm and serious, with a high courage which
nothing could depress.

The familiar picture of a later day depicts Washington crossing
the Delaware at the head of his soldiers. He is standing up in
the boat, looking forward in the teeth of the storm. It matters
little whether the work of the painter is in exact accordance
with the real scene or not. The daring courage, the high resolve,
the stern look forward and onward, which the artist strove to
show in the great leader, are all vitally true. For we may be
sure that the man who led that well-planned but desperate
assault, surrounded by darker conditions than the storms of
nature which gathered about his boat, and carrying with him the
fortunes of his country, was at that moment one of the most
heroic figures in history.

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