―102―

BIOGRAPHY—FOR THE PORT FOLIO.

SKETCH OF THE LIFE OF GENERAL HORATIO GATES.

Concluded from page 484, vol. ii.

GATES was in a private station, residing on his farm in
Virginia, in June, seventeen hundred and eighty. The low
state of their affairs in the southern districts induced con-
gress, on the thirteenth of that month, to call him to the chief
command in that quarter. The state of affairs in Pennsyl-
vania, Jersey, and New-York, afforded sufficient employ-
ment for Washington, and Gates being the next in rank
and reputation, was resorted to as the last refuge of his suf-
fering country.

The efforts of the British in the southern states had been
very strenuous and successful. Charleston, the chief city,
had been taken. All the American detachments, collected
with great difficulty, easily dissolved by their own fears, ill
furnished with arms, and unqualified for war, by inexperi-
ence and want of discipline, were instantly overwhelmed and
dispersed by the well-equipped cavalry of Tarleton, and the
veterans of Rawdon and Cornwallis. The American leaders
were famous for their valour, perseverance, and activity;
but these qualities would not supply the place of guns, and
of hands to manage them. At this crisis Gates took the
command of that miserable remnant which bore the name of
the southern army, and which mustered about fifteen hun-
dred men. A very numerous and formidable force exist-
ed in the promises of North-Carolina and Virginia. The
paper armies of the new states always made a noble appear-
ance. All the muniments of war overflowed the skirts of
these armies; but, alas! the field was as desolate as the pa-
per estimate was full. The promised army proved to be
only one tenth of the stipulated number, and assembled at
the scene of action long after the fixed time. The men were
destitute of arms and ammunition, and scantily supplied both
with the patriotism and courage of true soldiers.

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Two modes of immediate action were proposed. One
was to advance into the country possessed by the enemy, by
a road somewhat circuitous, but which would supply the ar-
my with accommodations and provisions. Gates was averse
to dilatory measures. He was, perhaps, somewhat misled
by the splendid success which had hitherto attended him.
He was anxious to come to action immediately, and to termi-
nate the war by a few bold and energetic efforts. He therefore
resolved to collect all the troops into one body, and to meet
the enemy as soon as possible. Two days after his arrival
in camp he began his march by the most direct road. This
road, unfortunately, led through a barren country, in the hot-
test and most unwholesome season of the year.

During this march all the forebodings of those who pre-
ferred a different track were amply fulfilled. A scanty sup-
ply of cattle, found nearly wild in the woods, was their prin-
cipal sustenance, while bread or flour was almost wholly
wanting, and when we add to a scarcity of food the maligni-
ty of the climate and the season, we shall not wonder that
the work of the enemy was anticipated in the destruction of
considerable numbers by disease. The perseverance of
Gates, in surmounting the obstacles presented by piny thick-
ets and dismal swamps, deserves praise, however injudicious
the original choice of such a road may be thought by some.
In this course he effected a junction with some militia of
North-Carolina, and with a detachment under Porterfield.

He finally took possession of Clermont, whence the
British commander, lord Rawdon, had previously withdrawn.
That general prepared, by collecting and centering his forces
in one body, to overwhelm him in a single battle. Lord
Rawdon was posted with his forces at Camden. After
some deliberation, the American leader determined to ap-
proach the English, and expose himself to the chance of a
battle.

Rumour had made the numbers of the Americans much
greater than they really were in the imagination of the Bri-
tish. Cornwallis himself hastened to the scene of action,

―104―

and, though mustering all his strength for this arduous occa-
sion, could not bring above two thousand effective men into
the field. Nineteen, however, out of twenty of these were
veterans of the most formidable qualifications. With the
reenforcement of seven hundred Virginian militia and some
other detachments, Gates's army did not fall short of four
thousand men. A very small portion of these were regular
troops, while the rest were a wavering and undisciplined mi-
litia, whose presence was rather injurious than beneficial.

Notwithstanding his inferiority of numbers, Cornwallis
found that a retreat would be more pernicious than a battle
under the worst auspices; and he himself, on the sixteenth
of August, prepared to attack his enemy. General Gates
had taken the same resolution at the same time; and the ad-
verse forces came to an engagement in which the Americans
suffered a defeat. The loss of the battle was ascribed with
reason to the cowardice and unskilfulness of the militia.
Among these the rout and confusion was absolute and irre-
trievable, and Gates had the singular fortune of conducting
the most prosperous and the most disastrous of the military
enterprises in this war.

Here was a dismal reverse in the life of Gates. His
prosperous scale sunk at Camden as fast as it had mounted
at Saratoga. There had been a difference of opinion as to
the best road to the theatre of action, and the hardships and
diseases which one party had foretold would infest the road
which he took, actually exceeded what was menaced. A bat-
tle lost against half the number, in circumstances where the
vanquished army was taken, in some degree, by surprise,
would not fail to suggest suspicions as to the caution or dis-
cernment of the general.

Gates continued in command till October the fifth in the
same year, about fifty days after the disaster at Camden.
In this interval he had been busily employed in repairing the
consequences of that defeat, and was now reposing for the
winter. He was, on that day, however, displaced, and sub-
jected to the inquiry of a special court. This inquiry was a

―105―

a tedious one, but terminated finally in the acquittal of the
general. He was reinstated in his military command in the
year seventeen hundred and eighty-two. In the meantime,
however, the great scenes of the southern war, especially the
capture of Cornwallis, had past. Little room was afforded
to a new general to gather either laurels or henbane. A par-
ticular detail of those transactions in which he was concern-
ed exceeds the limits prescribed to this hasty sketch. In
like manner we are unable to digest that voluminous mass of
letters, evidences, and documents by which the resolution of
congress, in favour of his conduct at Camden, was dictated.

The capture of Cornwallis, which produced such grand
and immediate consequences, swallowed up the memory of all
former exploits, and whatever sentence the impartial histori-
an may pronounce on the comparative importance of the cap-
ture of Burgoyne, and the surrender of Cornwallis, to the
national welfare, or to the merit of the leaders, the people of
that time could not hearken to any such parallel. They
swam in joy and exultation, and the hero of York-town was
alike with congress and with people the only saviour of his
country.

If Cornwallis was encompassed with insuperable obsta-
cles to retreat when his situation became desperate, and all
sources of new supply of provision were exhausted; if he
was surrounded by enemies more numerous than his own
troops, such likewise were the circumstances of Burgoyne,
and which ensured the assailants a victory in both cases.
In Burgoyne's case these obstacles to retreat were partly fo-
rest and morass, but chiefly consisted in the caution and la-
bour of Schuyler and of Gates. The mounds which enclo-
sed Cornwallis consisted entirely of a formidable fleet of a
foreign power, and the greater part of his assailants were fo-
reign auxiliaries. Gates completed the destruction of his
adversary, already half executed by his own folly, and by
the skill and diligence of Gates's predecessors; but that plan
by which Cornwallis was plunged into a desperate situation,

―106―

was wholly digested by the wisdom of Washington. Corn-
wallis's surrender was the signal for peace, which every one
recognised as soon as it was displayed; but the event at Sa-
ratoga, as to its influence on the event of the war, might be a
topic of endless dispute.

A second mysterious and delicate transaction of this war,
was the conduct of the officers at the close of it. They de-
manded payment of their wages in arrear, but this being quite
impossible, they threatened that vengeance which their mili-
tary union had put in their power. Thus the thoughtful ob-
server, who foresaw in this revolution nothing but the usual
course, from a well regulated government to a military usur-
pation, imagined the next step in such a progress was alrea-
dy at hand. He overlooked, however, the character of the
great leader, who added to the perseverance of Cromwell
and the magnanimity of Cæsar the integrity of the wisest
and best of men.

The secret history of this conspiracy would be very cu-
rious, and either the enemies or friends of Gates would find
something of importance to his character. Yet nice and ar-
duous indeed would be the task of exhibiting that something
to the public. The author must be silent on this subject,
from a sense of justice, which will not suffer him to act upon
his own imperfect knowledge, in a case where any decision
must be of the utmost consequence to the fame of a great
man, dead. *

  * I have often been surprised to observe that in an age where the
facilities of writing and publishing are so great, there should be so few
books of the most valuable kind. The memoirs of great men, written
by themselves. In times of revolution the number of such men mul-
tiply, and in other cases they write and publish by thousands; but in
our revolution where can such a performance be found? Excepting
slight and contemptible specimens of self-written memoirs, I recol-
lect none. The letters of Washington are precious relics indeed, and
the letters of all official characters would be valuable beyond estima-
tion. These, indeed, will become of popular value in time; and im-
mense collections of letters will be rescued from the bottoms of moul-

―107―

When the revolution was completed Gates retired to his
plantation in Virginia. We are unacquainted with the par-
ticulars of his domestic economy; but have reason to infer
that it was eminently mild and liberal, since seven years af-
terwards, when he took up his final residence in New-York,
he gave freedom to his slaves. Instead of turning these mi-
serable wretches to the highest profit, he made provision for
the old and infirm, while several of them testified their at-
tachment to him by remaining in his family. In the charac-
teristic virtue of planters, hospitality, Gates had no competi-
tor, and his reputation may well be supposed to put that vir-
tue to a hard test. He purchased, in the neighbourhood of
New-York, a spacious house, with valuable ground, for the
life of himself and his wife, and here, with few exceptions,
he remained for the rest of his life.

No wonder that the military leaders in the revolution
should aspire to the enjoyment of its civil honours after-
wards. The war was too short to create a race of mere sol-
diers. The merchants and lawyers who entered the army
became merchants and lawyers again, and had lost none of
their primitive qualifications for administering the civil go-
vernment. Gates, however, was a singular example among
the officers of high rank. His original profession was a sol-
dier, and disabled him from acquiring the capacity suitable
to the mere magistrate and senator. During twenty-three
years he was only for a short time in a public body. In the
year 1800 he was elected to the New-York legislature in
consequence of a critical balance of the parties in that state,

  dy trunks, and make their journey to public libraries. Even manu-
script memoirs of that period must start into life in the course of cen-
turies; but in the meantime what havoc will be made among them
by the policy, carelessness, or ignorance of families! Thirty years
have not been sufficient to give this value to the records of the revolu-
tion, and the hand of Time is brushing fast into oblivion the only docu-
ments connected with the revolution which are of most value. T[gap]
only genuine testimonies to the truth of events.

―108―

and withdrew again into private life as soon as the purpose
for which he was elected was gained.

Gates was a zealous partizan; but he was, as a man of
ambition, so far unfortunate, that his party was a minor part
of the nation, and consequently excluded from office and
emolument. When the national government was formed, a
grand schism took place, known by the names of federalists
and anti-federalists. The French revolution added new bit-
terness and new topics of dissention to this division. The
former outnumbering the latter, administered the govern-
ment for several years, and hence Gates enjoyed less general
consideration than his former rank and services certainly en-
titled him to claim. With a very large part of the people
his former services and merits were no atonement for his
present political offences. And, seeing all things through
the eyes of faction, his political creed was as derogatory to his
understanding as to his morals. This is not a time or place
to draw a minute portrait of his character. We can only
say, in general, that he had a handsome person, tending to
corpulence in the middle of life; remarkably courteous to
all; and carrying good humour sometimes beyond the nice
limit of dignity. He is said to have received a classical
education, and not to have entirely neglected that advantage
in after life. To science, literature, or erudition, however,
he made no pretensions; but gave indisputable marks of a
social, amiable and benevolent disposition. He had two
wives, the last of whom, who still survives him, he brought
from Virginia. She has been much admired for her man-
ners and conversation. He died without posterity at his cus-
tomary abode near New-York, on the tenth of April 1806,
after having counted a long series of seventy-eight years.*

  * Respect for the reader obliges the writer of the above perform-
ance to mention as an apology for some of its defects, that a greater
part was written when sickness disabled him from consulting books
or holding the pen.