VI.—“RETREAT.”
Now it was that Washington beheld his soldiers shrink and give way on
every side! On every hand they began to waver, from line to line, from
column to column ran terrible rumors of the approach of Cornwallis, with
a reinforcement of grenadiers; the American soldiers were struck with despair.
They had fought while there was hope, they had paved their way to victory
with heaps of dead, they had fought against superior discipline, superior
force, superior fortune, but the mist that overhung the battle field, blasted all
their hopes, and along the American columns rang one word, that struck
like a knell of death on the heart of Washington—“retreat”—“RETREAT!”
It was all in vain that the American chieftain threw himself in the way
of the retreating ranks and besought them to stand firm—for the sake of
their honor, for the sake of their country, for the sake of their God.
It was all in vain! In vain was it that Pulaski threw his troopers in the
path chosen by the fugitives; in vain did he wave his sword on high, and
beseech them in his broken dialect, with a flushed cheek and a maddening
eye, implore them to turn and face the well-nigh conquered foe! It was in
vain!
In vain did Mad Anthony Wayne, the hero of Pennsylvania, ride from
rank to rank, and with his towering form raised to its full height, hold his
hand aloft, and in the familiar tones of brotherly intimacy, beckon the soldiers
once again to the field of battle.
All was in vain!
And while Chew's house still belched forth its fires of death, while all
through Germantown were marching men, hot-foot from Philadelphia, while
over the fatal lawn rushed hurried bands of the Continentals, seeking for
their comrades among the dead, Washington gazed to the north and beheld
the columns of Continentals, their array all thinned and scattered, their numbers
diminished, taking their way along the northern road, calmly it is true,
and in remarkable order, but still in the order of a retreat, though the enemy
showed no disposition to annoy or pursue them.
And while his heart swelled to bursting, and his lip was pressed between
his teeth in anguish, Washington bowed his head to the mane of his gallant
“grey” and veiled his face in his hands, and then his muscular chest throbbed
as though a tempest were pent up within its confines.
In a moment ne raised his face. All was calm and immoveable, all
traces of emotion had passed away from the stern and commanding features,
like the waves rolling from the rock.
He whispered a few brief words to his aids-de-camp, and then raising his
form proudly in the stirrups, he rode along the Continental columns, while
with a confused and half-suppressed murmuring sound, the Retreat of Germantown commenced.
