back the moral, social, and political dissolution going on about him.
With the aid of France, he meant to strike one decisive blow, and end
the struggle. Every moment was of importance, and yet the days and
weeks and months slipped by, and he could get nothing done. He could
neither gain control of the sea, nor gather sufficient forces of his
own, although delay now meant ruin. He saw the British overrun the
south, and he could not leave the Hudson. He was obliged to sacrifice
the southern States, and yet he could get neither ships nor men to
attack New York. The army was starving and mutinous, and he sought
relief in vain. The finances were ruined, Congress was helpless, the
States seemed stupefied. Treason of the most desperate kind suddenly
reared its head, and threatened the very citadel of the Revolution.
These were the days of the war least familiar to posterity. They
are unmarked in the main by action or fighting, and on this dreary
monotony nothing stands out except the black stain of Arnold's
treason. Yet it was the time of all others when Washington had most to
bear. It was the time of all others when his dogged persistence and
unwavering courage alone seemed to sustain the flickering fortunes of
the war.

In April Washington was pondering ruefully on the condition of affairs
at the south. He saw that the only hope of saving Charleston was in
the defense of the bar; and when that became indefensible, he saw that
the town ought to be abandoned to the enemy, and the army withdrawn to
the country. His military genius showed itself again and again in
his perfectly accurate judgment on distant campaigns. He seemed to
apprehend all the conditions at a glance, and although his wisdom
made him refuse to issue orders when he was not on the ground, those
generals who followed his suggestions, even when a thousand miles
away, were successful, and those who disregarded them were not.
Lincoln, commanding at Charleston, was a brave and loyal man, but he
had neither the foresight nor the courage to withdraw to the country,
and then, hovering on the lines of the enemy, to confine them to the
town. He yielded to the entreaties of the citizens and remained, only
to surrender. Washington had retreated from New York, and after five
years of fighting the British still held it, and had gone no further.
He had refused to risk an assault to redeem Philadelphia, at the
expense of much grumbling and cursing, and had then beaten the ene