presumed the principal attack would be directed. The adjacent ground was flat, or furrowed by ravines, and consequently favorable to the besiegers. The space comprised within the fortifications was extremely circumscribed, and afforded no safety to the garrison. Upon the opposite side of the river, the village of Gloucester had been surrounded with earthen works, furnished with artillery where the position admitted; but these works were of little importance. The trenches were opened by the allied armies in the night, between the sixth and seventh of October. Notwithstanding the violent fire of the besieged, they pushed their works with so much perseverance, that soon they had completed their first parallel, erected the batteries, and covered them with little less than a hundred pieces of heavy ordnance. The thickest walls could not have withstood the shock of so heavy a fire, much less those of Yorktown, which were not completed. So far were they from that state, that the British troops were not less employed in their construction under the fire of the enemy, than they were in their defence. In a few days, most of their guns were silenced, their defences in many places ruined, and the shells reached even the ships in the harbor, where the Charon of forty-four guns, with some of the transports, were burnt. It was manifest that valor was impotent against so formidable means of attack, and consequently, that the defence could not be of long duration. The artillery of the Americans was commanded by general Knox, who in this siege as in all the other actions of the war, displayed the talents of a consummate engineer. He had formed his cannoniers with such success, that the French themselves were astonished at the precision of their manœuvres.

In the midst of so many perils, Cornwallis received a despatch from Clinton, which held out the hope that if the winds and unforeseen accidents did not prevent, the relief would sail from New York the twelfth of October. He reminded him, however, that a plan of this nature was subject to a thousand unlucky casualties; that he wished therefore, to be informed if it was deemned possible to hold out till the middle of November; his intention, in the contrary case, being to march himself by way of the land, and to fall upon Philadelphia. He could not, doubtless, have undertaken a more efficacious diversion in favor of the besieged. Such were the formal promises of general Clinton to lord Cornwallis. How, it may be asked, could the English have deceived themselves so grossly with respect to the time necessary for the reparation of their ships, that instead of departing from New York the fifth of October, as they had announced, they did not make sail until the nineteenth? This miscalculation seems difficult to be accounted for. It is certain only that the promise of succours and their unexpected delay, occasioned the loss of the army. In the firm expectation of being soon relieved, Cornwallis persisted in his defence, and thus abstained from resorting to

the means of safety that were in his power. If it be just to acknowledge a motive of excuse for his conduct in the first letter, by which Clinton assured him that the fleet would set sail the fifth of October, it will still remain very difficult to justify the resolution to which he adhered, when he had been apprised by a second despatch, that the squadron could not put to sea until the twelfth, a despatch which left room for doubts even with respect to that. Among the principal officers of the garrison commanded by lord Cornwallis, there were not wanting those who advised him to evacuate a place so little susceptible of a long defence, and to transport his army suddenly to the left side of the river, where there was still left him a way to escape from the fate that menaced him. They urged him to withdraw in the night to Gloucester with the greater part of his army. This passage might be effected easily with the shipping that lay in the harbor. The superiority of force, and the surprise of an unexpected attack, precluded all doubt of their being able to disperse the corps of M. de Choisy, who invested Gloucester. The British army would thus find itself in that fertile country which is situated between the York and the Rappahanock. Not having yet been made the seat of war, it was sure to afford horses and provision in abundance. By forced marches it would be possible to gain an hundred miles upon the enemy, and to protect the retreat by a rearguard of three thousand picked men, both infantry and cavalry. Once masters of the country beyond the York, they would be at liberty to march upon Philadelphia, and there join general Clinton, who would have repaired thither through New Jersey, or to bend their course towards the Carolinas, keeping the upper route, in order to pass the rivers above the points where they divide into several branches. Either of these ways offered some hope of safety, since Washington, for want of shipping, would not be able to cross the river soon enough to follow the British army; and not knowing the direction it would have taken, he would be obliged to divide his troops into several detachments. And even in the supposition that he was apprised in time of their march, his pursuit would not be prompt enough to come up with them; since lodgings and subsistence for so numerous an army must necessarily fail him. By remaining here,' added the partisans of this opinion, we devote ourselves to certain destruction; by opening ourselves a passage, we may yet find safety. We shall, in any event, have the consolation of thinking that so magnanimous an attempt will shed new lustre upon the arms of the king. If it is fated that so gallant an army cannot escape captivity, let this not be till after it has exerted its utmost force to avert it, and after having acquired an honored name and bright faine among the brave!'

Lord Cornwallis, whatever might have been his motives, would never listen to these salutary counsels; he persisted in his deter

mination to defend himself behind walls that were indefensible. Perhaps he persuaded himself that he could prolong his resistance until the arrival of relief, and thus escape the blame to which he exposed himself on the part of his sovereign, in hazarding his army by an attempt to retreat. Perhaps, also, the uncertainty of saving it by this resource, appeared to him as great as that of the arrival of succours. But whatever was the private opinion of the British general, it could have no influence upon that fatal issue which was rapidly approaching. The besiegers had already commenced the labors of the second parallel, and their activity seemed to increase every day. They were now but three hundred yards from the place. The English endeavored to arrest them by a deluge of bombs and balls. But the artillery of the first parallel kept up so heavy a fire, that the besieged, far from being able to interrupt the labors of the second, soon beheld all their batteries upon their left flank dismounted. This event was the more prejudicial to them, as it was against that very part that the allies directed their principal attack. In order to complete their trenches, it remained for them to dislodge the English from the two advanced redoubts of which we have made mention above. Washington gave orders that they should be carried by assault. With a view of exciting emulation between the two nations, the attack on the redoubt upon the right was committed to the Americans, and of the other to the French. The American detachment was commanded by the marquis de la Fayette and by colonel Hamilton, aid-de-camp of the commander-in-chief, a young man of the highest expectation. They were accompanied by colonel Laurens, son of the former president of Congress, who was at that time confined in the tower of London. He was also a youth of the fairest hope, and would infallibly have furnished a brilliant career if an untimely death had not snatched him from his family, and from his country. The baron de Viomesnil, the count Charles de Damas, and the count de Deux Ponts, commanded the French. The commanders addressed their soldiers a short exhortation to inflame their courage; they represented that this last effort would bring them to the term of their glorious toils. The attack was extremely impetuous. On its success depended in a great measure that of the siege. Relying entirely upon their bayonets, the Americans advanced with unloaded arms; they passed the abattis and palisades without waiting to remove them. The English, astonished at so much audacity, attempted in vain to put themselves upon defence. The humanity of the conquerors equalled their courage. They granted life to all those who demanded it, notwithstanding the cruelties recently committed at New London. Young Laurens gained great credit upon this occasion, and personally took the commanding officer prisoner. The loss was very moderate on both sides. The redoubt upon the left cost more efforts; but at

length, the French chasseurs and grenadiers, animated by the example of their chiefs, carried it with the bayonet. This double conquest was no less useful to the allies than it was honorable for their arms. Washington presented the two regiments of Gatinois and Deux Ponts, who had contributed to it, with the two pieces of cannon which they had taken. The besieged made no attempt to recover the two redoubts. The besiegers hastened to include them in the second parallel, which before the next morning was entirely completed. The situation of the garrison was become so critical, that it could no longer hope for safety. Cornwallis foresaw perfectly, that when the besiegers should have opened the fire of the batteries of their second parallel, all means of resistance would fail him. The greater part of his artillery was dismounted, broken, or otherwise disabled; the walls were crumbled into the ditches; in a word, almost all the defences were rased. Having lost the use of his heavy artillery, the British commander gave with difficulty some sign of resistance by firing at intervals with his howitzers and small mortars.

In this state of things Cornwallis, in order to retard as much as was in his power the completion of the batteries upon the second parallel, resolved to reach them by a vigorous sortie. He did not flatter himself, however, that even by this expedient he should be able to extricate himself from the alarming position he was in, nor yet to protract his defence for any considerable space of time. He wrote to general Clinton that being exposed every moment to an assault in ruined works, and an almost open town, with a garrisen weakened by sickness, the distress of Yorktown was such that he could not recommend to the fleet and army to run any great risk in endeavoring to save it.

Meanwhile, a detachment sallied from the place, on the night of the sixteenth of October, under the conduct of colonel Abercrombie. They deceived the enemy by answering as Americans; and, having penetrated to the second parallel, made themselves masters of two batteries, the one French and the other American. The French who had the guard of that part of the intrenchment, suffered considerably. The English spiked eleven picces of cannon, and would have done much more mischief, if the viscount de Noailles had not charged them furiously, and driven them before him into the town. This sortie was not of the least advantage to the besieged. The cannon which were hastily spiked, were soon again rendered fit for service.

The fire of the place was entirely extinct. Scarcely did it throw. from time to time a cohorn shell into the camp of the besiegers; and this last source of defence was nearly expended. The garrison was sensibly enfeebled by disease; fatigue and discouragement overwhelmed even the soldiers who remained for service. All hope was vanished; an assault must prove irremediable.

Straitened

on all sides, Cornwallis was constrained to resort to new expedients. He had recourse to a measure which he ought to have embraced before it was too late; and that was, to pass the river suddenly with his garrison, and to try fortune upon the opposite bank. He reflected, that even if it was not in his power to escape the enemy entirely, he had at least the hope of retarding the moment of his surrender; and that, in any event, the allies occupied in pursuing him, would not so soon have it in their power to turn their thoughts and arms upon new enterprises. The boats are prepared; the troops embark; they leave behind the baggage, the sick and wounded, and a feeble detachment, in order to capitulate for the town's people, with a letter from Cornwallis to Washington, recommending to the generosity of the conqueror the persons not in a condition to be removed. Already a part of the troops is landed at Gloucester Point; another embarks; the third division only is waited for; a perfect calm prevails in the air and upon the waters; every thing seemed to favor the design of the British commander. But all of a sudden, at that critical moment of hope, apprehension and danger, arose a violent storm of wind and rain, and all was lost. The boats were all driven down the river, and the army thus weakened and divided was involved in a state of the most imminent danger. The day began to appear. The besiegers opened a tremendous fire froin all their batteries; the bombs showered copiously even into the river. But the tempest, in the meantime, had abated; the boats were able to return, and the English finding this last way of safety interdicted them by inexorable fortune, came back, not without new perils, to that shore, where a certain death or an inevitable captivity awaited them. Again in Yorktown, Cornwallis being sensible that his position was now past all remedy, and preferring the life of his brave troops to the honor they might have acquired in a murderous and desperate assault, sent a flag to Washington, proposing a cessation of arms for twenty-four hours, and that commissioners might be appointed on both sides for settling the terms of capitulation. The American general was not disposed to grant so long a time, on account of the possible arrival of British succours. He answered, that he could only grant a truce of two hours; and that during this interval he should expect the propositions of the British commander. Cornwallis was desirous that his troops might obtain the liberty of returning to their respective countries, the English to England, the Germans into Germany, upon giving their parole not to bear arms against France or America until exchanged. He demanded, besides, the regulation of the interests of those Americans, who having followed the British army, found themselves involved in its fate. Both of these conditions were alike refused; the first, because it was not intended to leave the king of England at liberty to employ his captive regiments in the home garrisons; the second, because it was a civil 51

VOL. II.