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I have precipitated my reader with perhaps too much violence
into the midst of the revolutionary war. Although
I shall endeavour to bring him out of it as safely as I
can, yet there is much work for us to do. It would be
quite impossible for me, who have set myself to the task
of taking off the cream, of distilling the spirit, or, in
other words, of extracting the moral square root of my
life, to omit so important a fraction of it, as the period
upon which I have now entered.

Let me go back five minutes. I arrived in America
on the 15th day of May. I hastened to Morton's Hope.
In the little vault which my uncle had himself constructed,
I read two inscriptions—“Fortitude Morton,
ob. Jan. 15, 1774.” “Joshua Morton, ob. Dec. 1776.”
They were both gone—the Hope was tenantless.

It will be easily believed that I had no inducement
to linger there. It was no time then to abandon myself
to an unavailing melancholy. I sorrowed long and
deeply for one I had so tenderly loved; but I felt that it
was idle and unmanly to exhibit or to indulge my grief.

I had had time during a long voyage to America to reflect
upon my destiny—upon my mission—I hastened
now to act.

I found my uncle's agent. I was the sole heir. The
property was far beyond my most extravagant estimate.
Although all kinds of property had necessarily depreciated,
yet I knew that this was temporary, and I found

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myself possessed of a fortune far more ample than I had
dreamed of. I was delighted. I felt that it had fallen
into good hands. I knew it would be of use.

A new campaign was opening. The war had already
become unpopular. The enthusiasm which had glowed
through the public bosom on the first outbreak of the
revolution had grown faint. The elasticity with which
the nation had bounded from under the first pressure of
tyranny, had begun to slacken. It was beginning to
sink under the new and complicated weights which were
now crowded upon it. Washington still bore up, but
the whole mass of the war hung upon his Atlantean
shoulders. He did not bend nor quaver, but he called
aloud to the nation in his agony. They had not responded
to his call. Congress was heroic, but it was comparatively
powerless. It was not the nation. The General's
“coups de guerre” at Trenton and Princeton,
had for a moment roused the flagging spirit of the country—
but still it drooped.

Army there was none. When Washington commenced
his retreat through the Jerseys, hotly pursued by
Howe's army and Howe's proclamation, his ragamuffins
were hardly a thousand strong. A thousand men, and
those worn out—sick—miserable—naked—starving—
“no eye had seen such scare-crows.” It was a mystery
that he got them across the Delaware—it was a still
greater mystery that he brought them up to the enemy—
but it was the greatest mystery of all that he led them
off victorious.

It is neither invidious nor unpatriotic to say this. It
was the height of hallucination to suppose any thing
else possible. The men were brave but they were not
soldiers; and Washington well knew, and the nation

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learned it afterwards, that a British army was not exactly
a thing to be trifled with; that British soldiers required
soldiers to beat them. The curses of Washington upon
the militia and the whole militia system, were too well
founded. The pay and the bounty were too contemptible.
Recruits were not to be had. Enlistments for
three years, or for the war, became every day more rare.
Jobbing and substituting were found more profitable.—
Unfortunately a war is not a thing to be done by the
job, or at any rate there should be but one job made of it.

In short, at the close of each campaign, Washington
found himself at the head of a phantom army—a will of-the-wisp
which led him a pretty dance through swamps
and morasses, and flitted away when it was most needed.
The troops were sure to dissolve, the periods of service
were sure to expire, at the very moment when some grand
stroke was contemplated.

It has become of late the fashion to underrate the hero;
but I know nothing more sublime in the history of conquerors
than the adamantine soul which faltered not—
the devoted patriotism which did not become sickened
and disgusted by such constant and wearing trials as
those he contended with.

I had had time to observe all these things. I arrived at
a sort of pause. The winter campaign was over—the
second was to begin. It was easy to see the cause of
most of the national difficulties. I saw them. Every
one saw them. They were simply want of money, and
want of men. Congress voted men, as Glendower called
his “lackey spirits;” but none came when they were
called. The spirits for reasons best known to themselves;
but the soldiers for the most potent reason in the world;
because they were not paid for it.

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The want of money was simply the result of the
powerlessness of the general government. It was a radical
defect, which it seems the majority will not learn, (although
the world is so many thousand years old,) that
delegation is not abdication. The mob will not learn
that although it is a sovereign and an absolute one, it is
not beneath its dignity to confide its powers to trustworthy
ministers and servants.

The old confederacy of the United States was instituted
to carry on a war. It should have been a hundred-handed
giant—a Briareus waving a hundred swords but
directed by a single hand. It proved only an enormous
polypus, a sluggish, drowsy, palsied creature, moving its
thousand legs and arms at different times, and in different
directions, but incapable of moving forward with a
single powerful impulse. In a confederacy which has a
nominal head indeed, but whose various members, from
some defect in the machinery, cannot all be moved at
the volition of that head, a spasmodic and irregular action
is sure to take the place of the regular, healthy, concentrated
movement, which alone will fulfil the object of
the confederacy. But there is no need of enlarging on
the weakness of the government, for it seems that we
shall never grow wiser, and that we are still determined
to neutralize our institutions by our hesitation to subscribe
to that belief in human virtue which dictated their organization.

In a word, the nation had no money—without money
they could not pay their troops. They had no coin.—
They must use credit. They emitted bills. It was
known how little power was in the hands of the government.
It was known that they trembled to tax. It was
known that they hesitated to contract a loan—they

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shivered constantly on the brink of their capability. Of
course, with each fresh emission of paper, the paper depreciated.
The amount expanded which they wanted
the power to redeem. The depreciation naturally suggested
to the trembling congress, the necessity of contracting
their issues. And yet without bills how could they
pay their troops? They had been bankrupt when they
began business. They could pay nothing but their notes
of hand.

Now if the President could have borrowed a good
round sum at once—if it had been possible to silence all
the sneaking fears of corruption and moneyed influences;
or if it had been in the power of Congress to contract a
a good honest debt, which would have been a fund and
a security for property in peace, as well as a golden chain
to bind the nation together, affairs would have been better.
It would have been better to come to the nation
with pockets turned inside out, and honestly borrow what
they wanted at once, than by little and little swindle them
out of more small change than the whole debt would
have amounted to. But with tied hands and empty
pockets what could they do? They did all they could.
All that heroism and patriotism hampered by jealousy
could do the Congress did.

At any rate one point was gained. The problem was
fortunately solved at last. It was proved that nothing
but an army could beat English regiments; and that
amateurs from the plough, and dilettanti from the dockyards,
were excellent raw material, but required to be
manufactured. They were the stuff to make good soldiers
of, but they must first be made.

I shall make no apology to the reader for all this digression.
He may skip it if he chooses, and advise all

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his friends to do the same. But I insist upon saying all
I have got to say on this subject, because it is necessary
to my purpose. I know it is dull. I know it is common-place;
but my readers may be sure “that when I am
dull, there is always a design in it.”

I saw at once my situation. I knew what I could do,
and what I could not do. I could not give them a
new constitution; but I could give them a little money.
I could give them a few men. I determined to sacrifice
my whole fortune if it were necessary. It was but a
drop in the bucket—but still it was a drop. Besides,
there was no doubt my example would be of service, and
emulation in such a cause would be of incalculable value.

I went immediately to work. It was my intention to
apply my feeble strength to the task of obviating one or
two glaring defects of the present system. It was easy
for me if I was unsparing of money to raise a strong
able bodied, resolute corps. I limited the number to five
hundred; but they were all picked men, all marksmen.
I selected them from no particular district or state. On
the contrary, it was rather an object with me to unite a
certain number of representatives from all. I wished to
see if it were possible in the course of a continued military
existence to annihilate the conflicting peculiarities of
the different sections of the country, and alchemize them
down into a single, solid and congenial mass.

It was easy for me to obtain the necessary powers from
the legislature. It was not difficult for me to obtain a
commission. It was also no Herculean task to fill up
my number; for I was able to make the allowance of
clothes, blankets, camp utensils, &c. so liberal that the
principal reason for the general distaste to the service disappeared
in our volunteer corps. In return I demanded

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from each member a solemn promise under seal, to continue
in the corps, till death or till the close of the war.

With regard to myself I determined to lay the precept
of subordination to superiors to my heart. I determined,
if possible, to be governed only by my wish to serve my
country. That my patriotism might be pure and disinterested
was my constant prayer. I endeavoured to
guard myself with all my strength against personal ambition;
the besetting sin of all partisans and of all
partisan warfare. I determined to submit without a
murmur to all orders of my superiors, and as far as possible
to discourage the republican spirit in my corps.
That I might live to see a glorious and firm republic
erected on the ruins of the fallen monarchy was my
constant prayer; but I knew that the work of erection
was to be accomplished by an army, and I felt that in an
army the despotic principle was indispensable.

There was a delay at the opening of the summer campaign.
At its commencement the pieces stood nearly
thus upon the chess board. The Howes with their army
and fleet were in possession of New-York. The northern
army under Burgoyne were hovering about the lakes
and threatening Ticonderoga.

The Americans under Schuyler, Lincoln, and Putnam
were in possession of the forts on the lakes and
along the North River.

Washington was in the Jerseys.

It was nearly certain that the two British armies intended
a junction and co-operation. It was Washington's
object to baffle their intentions if possible. The
junction would probably be at New-York, but as the British
commanded the sea, there were two ways of effecting
it.

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Burgoyne threatened the fortresses which were between
him and New-York. Howe might move up the
river, and by a synchronic movement attack the forts
from below at the moment that the New-York army was
thrown into the Jerseys. While Washington was weakening
himself at the south by sparing all he could for
the army at Peekskill, and still farther north, Howe's
army co-operating with the fleet might suddenly make
a rapid advance to the south, and give him the fool's
mate at the third move in Philadelphia. It was his
earnest wish to save that city if possible.

While he was thus at cross purposes with the enemy,
it was my lot to arrive at his camp in Pompton plains,
N. Jersey. The fleet had sailed from New-York, but
whether for the Chesapeake or Delaware, or whether
with the intention of returning suddenly to co-operate
with Burgoyne, was yet a problem.

I was admitted to the presence of the general, and
stated my wishes and intentions. I had the good fortune
to meet his approbation. He perceived that I had
adopted his views, and that I was influenced by upright
and virtuous motives. Moreover, I was of the class which
he wished to be engaged in the country's service. I was
not actuated by a love of gain, nor even of glory. Moreover,
I had a stake in society. I had a respectable local
reputation to lose. A good estate to forfeit. A neck
which it was an object to me to keep as long as possible
out of the halter. In short, I was one of those in whom
he could confide. He saw that there was no danger of
my making money out of my commission.

I was unhappy that I was not permitted to remain in
his camp: but with that elevated patriotism for which
he was remarkable, he chose rather to strengthen the

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armies of other generals than his own; and still mistrusting
the designs of Burgoyne, and of the force which was
opposed to him, he preferred to send our corps to the north,
than to reinforce himself. I rejoiced, however, in the end.
I felt afterwards that Brandywine would hardly have
been so auspicious or so encouraging a commencement
for a volunteer, as Saratoga.

Soon after this I fell in with Mr. Welcome Dodge.
Accident, not worth while to relate, led to our acquaintance.
I enlisted him a member of my corps, and he
became of invaluable service to me. My numbers were
not yet complete, and his experience and native shrewdness
enabled me to provide myself with the best recruits;
his friends Bill Stimpson and Belah Humphreys among
the number.

As soon as my corps was complete I pushed directly for
New-Hampshire. At the time I joined the army of the
north, the deeply injured Schuyler had command of that
department. The Americans were gradually backing
out before Burgoyne, who was proceeding southward
with fearful rapidity. The recoil of the Americans
served, however, eventually to concentrate their force.

The favourite plan of the British ministry was to
push an army by the way of the Northern Lakes, from
Canada to the Hudson. It had been matured in the cabinet
during the winter, and Burgoyne, to whom its management
was entrusted, had even visited England to assist
at the deliberation. As a corollary to the plan, St.
Leger was to advance towards the Hudson, through the
valley of the Mohawk.

Burgoyne set himself early to his task. He advanced
like a giant with rapid strides, and with signal success.
The Americans were too weak to oppose him, and their

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general unwillingly and slowly retreated, disputing every
inch, but forced, however, reluctantly to yield.

On the 5th of July, the cherished Ticonderoga fell
into the hands of the Englishmen, with its important adjunct,
Fort Independence. On the 6th and 7th, Fort
Anne, and Fort Edward, were relinquished, and the
American general fell back to Saratoga. At last, he was
forced to abandon that position, and then he retreated
like a stag to the water, and stood at bay on a small island
at the confluence of the Hudson and the Mohawk.

On the 15th of August, Burgoyne was at Saratoga,
and St. Leger had invested Fort Schuyler.

The rapidity with which the English general had
swept downward from the North, had inevitably lengthened
his line, and thereby attenuated his army. Moreover,
his stores and heavy baggage were to be conveyed
by land over a difficult country, from Fort George to Saratoga,
a tedious and perilous process.

Reflecting upon these things before his arrival at Saratoga,
he determined that the rebels should be his purveyors.
He knew that they had large magazines in
the neighbourhood. He cast his eyes upon Bennington.