to form the troops, that were advancing, upon an advantageous piece of ground in the rear.”  We cannot add much to these simple and modest words, for they tell the whole story.  Having put Lee aside, Washington rallied the broken troops, brought them into position, turned them back, and held the enemy in check.  It was not an easy feat, but it was done, and when Lee’s division again fell back in good order the main army was in position, and the action became general.  The British were repulsed, and then Washington, taking the offensive, drove them back until he occupied the battlefield of the morning.  Night came upon him still advancing.  He halted his army, lay down under a tree, his soldiers lying on their arms about him, and planned a fresh attack, to be made at daylight.  But when the dawn came it was seen that the British had crept off, and were far on their road.  The heat prevented a rapid pursuit, and Clinton got into New York.  Between there and Philadelphia he had lost at least two thousand men by desertions in addition to nearly five hundred who fell at Monmouth.

It is worth while to pause a moment and compare this battle with the rout of Long Island, the surprise at the Brandywine, and the fatal unsteadiness at Germantown.  Here, too, a check was received at the outset, owing to blundering which no one could have foreseen.  The troops, confused and without orders, began to retreat, but without panic or disorder.  The moment Washington appeared they rallied, returned to the field, showed perfect steadiness, and the victory was won.  Monmouth has never been one of the famous battles of the Revolution, and yet there is no other which can compare with it as an illustration of Washington’s ability as a soldier.  It was not so much the way in which it was fought, although that was fine enough, that its importance lies as in the evidence which it gives of the way in which Washington, after a series of defeats, during a winter of terrible suffering and privation, had yet developed his ragged volunteers into a well-disciplined and effective army.  The battle was a victory, but the existence and the quality of the army that won it were a far greater triumph.

The dreary winter at Valley Forge had indeed borne fruit.  With a slight numerical superiority Washington had fought the British in the open field, and fairly defeated them.  “Clinton gained no advantage,” said the great Frederic, “except to reach New York with the wreck of his army; America is probably lost for England.”  Another year had passed, and England had lost an army, and still held what she had before, the city of New York.  Washington was in the field with a better army than ever, and an army flushed with a victory which had been achieved after difficulties and trials such as no one now can rightly picture or describe.  The American Revolution was advancing, held firm by the master-hand of its leader.  Into it, during these days of struggle and of battle, a new element had come, and the next step is to see how Washington dealt with the fresh conditions upon which the great conflict had entered.