that side. Howe, as second in command, was detached with about two thousand men, and landed on the outward, side of the peninsula, covered with shipping, without opposition; he was to advance from thence up the hill which was over Charlestown, where the strength of the enemy lay; he had under him Brigadier-General Pigot. Clinton and myself took our stand (for we had not any fixed post) in a large battery directly opposite to Charlestown, and commanded it, and also reaching the heights above it, and thereby facilitating Howe’s attack. Howe’s disposition was exceeding soldierlike; in my opinion it was perfect. As his first arm advanced up the hill they met with a thousand impediments from strong fences, and were much exposed. They were also exceedingly hurt by musketry from Charlestown, though Clinton and I did not perceive it until Howe sent us word by a boat, and desired us to set fire to the Town, which was immediately done; we threw “a parcel of shells, and the whole was instantly in flames; our battery afterwards kept an incessant fire on the heights; it was seconded by a number of frigates, floating batteries, and one ship-of-the-line. And now ensued one of the greatest scenes of war that can be conceived: if we look to the height, Howe’s corps ascending the hill in the face of intrenchments, and in a very disadvantageous ground, was much engaged; to the left the enemy pouring in fresh troops by thousands, over the land; and in the arm of the sea our ships and floating batteries cannonading them; straight before us a large and noble Town in one great blaze—the church-steeples being timber, were great pyramids of fire above the rest; behind us, the church-steeples and heights of our own camp covered with spectators of the rest of our Army which was engaged; the hills round the country covered with spectators; the enemy all in anxious suspense; the roar of cannon, mortars, and musketry; the crash of churches, ships upon the stocks, and whole streets falling together, to fill the ear; the storm of the redoubts, with the objects above described, to fill the eye; and the reflection, that, perhaps, a defeat was a final loss to the British Empire in America, to fill the mind; made the whole a picture, and a complication of horrour and importance beyond any thing that ever came to my lot to be witness to. I much lament Tom’s* absence; it was a sight for a young soldier that the longest service may not furnish again; and had he been with me he would likewise have been out of danger; for, except two cannon balls that went a hundred yards over our heads, we were not in any part of the direction of the enemy’s shot. A moment of the day was critical: Howe’s left were staggered; two battalions had been sent to re-enforce them, but we perceived them on the beach seeming in embarrassment what way to march. Clinton then, next for business, took the part without waiting for orders, to throw himself into a boat to head them; he arrived in time to be of service; the day ended with glory, and the success was most important, considering the ascendancy it gave the Regular Troops; but the loss was uncommon in officers for the numbers engaged. Howe was untouched, but his Aid-de-Camp, Sherwin, was killed; Jordan, a friend of Howe’s, who came engage le de cœur, to see the campaign, (a shipmate of ours on board the Cerberus, and who acted as, aid-de-camp,) is badly wounded. Pigot was unhurt, but he behaved like a hero, You will see the list of the loss. Poor Colonel Abercrombie, who commanded the Grenadiers, died yesterday of his wounds. Captain Addison, our poor old friend, who arrived but the day before, and was to have dined with me on the day of the action, was also killed; his son was upon the field at the same time. Major Mitchell is but very slightly hurt; he is out already. Young Chetwynd’s wound is also slight. Lord Percy’s Regiment has suffered the most, and behaved the best; his Lordship himself was not in the action. Lord Rowden behaved to a charm; his name is established for life.

TO GENERAL BURGOYNE.

SIR: In reading the newspapers I find an extract of a letter which it is said you wrote a few days after the battle. of Charlestown, to a noble Lord in England; and I take notice you close your narration of that important day’s work, by saying, “The day ended with glory.”

As I am totally at a loss to know what part of the day’s conduct was crowned with so much “glory”on your part, permit me, Sir, to inquire, whether it was such a “glorious” achievement for upwards of two thousand regular disciplined troops, being the flower of the British Army, headed by the most approved and experienced Generals, with part of the train of artillery, supported and covered with one ship-of-the-line, a number of frigates and floating batteries, and a large battery on Copp’s Hill, in which General Clinton and you took your stand, and which commanded the Town, to dislodge a much inferiour number of American Militia from a slender defence, which they had but four hours to prepare, for it was twelve o’clock before either spade or pickaxe entered the ground, and the Lively, ship-of-war, fired upon them at four next morning, and soon after the battery above mentioned began to play.

Was it, indeed, such a “glorious” action, with all this tremendous apparatus of war, and under all these advantageous circumstances, in the space of twelve hours to kill seventy-seven, and wound two hundred and seventy-eight Americans, (twenty-eight of whom were captivated,) and take five small pieces of cannon, which they had not time to place? Nor was all this effected till they had sustained your fire from four o’clock in the morning till four o’clock in the afternoon; being then quite worn down with fatigue, and their ammunition wholly expended, were obliged to retreat.

Your representation of the transactions of that day does the Americans an honour you never intended. All Europe will revere the fortitude, and stand surprised at the firmness, and valour of this handful of brave, though undisciplined men.

Or was it, indeed, such a “glorious” sight to view the field strewed with the mangled corpses of a few brave and virtuous Americans? Or to see the agonies and hear the piercing shrieks and dying groans of Abercrombie, Pitcairn, and above a thousand others of those who were brought hither to crush the rising liberty of America, but who now lay weltering in their gore? Or to behold the inexpressible anguish of the widows and orphans made by that day’s wicked attempt to enslave America?

If such a such a scene as this is “glorious” in your eyes, Americans are of opposite sentiments; they lament the loss of those brave Britons, whose life and blood should have been reserved for a cause of justice against the natural enemies of Englishmen. Americans mourn over the wounds you compel them to give, and heartily sympathize with those widows and orphans you forced them to make.

But perhaps it was your laying Charlestown in ashes that has elated your mind, and led you to conclude that “the day ended with glory.”

Remember, Sir, any parricide, any assassin, the greatest of villains, with proper materials, can set wooden buildings on fire, especially when they themselves are as far out of danger as you were at that time.

Was it indeed “glorious” to see whole streets falling together in flaming ruins, owned by subjects second to none for their loyalty to the Monarch of Britain, who, by the way, have now sprung to their arms, determined to check the bloody career of ministerial vengeance, or perish in the attempt?

Was there any necessity, from the exigency of the day, for this wanton waste of English property, to the amount of one hundred thousand Pounds sterling? You yourself acknowledge that neither Clinton nor you perceived any firing from the Town of Charlestown on the troops under Lord Howe, nor did any body else see any; for I now appeal to his Lordship’s candour, whether it was possible that his troops could have been annoyed by the Americans from any of the houses in Charlestown provided those houses had been full of them? The Town of Charlestown was always in your power, and you might have set it on fire at any hour when you pleased.

Would it not have been less inglorious to have reserved it for the use of your own troops, who have since loaded you with many a curse, while suffering in cold and rain for want of being covered in those very buildings you destroyed?

If this is your idea of “glory,” I shall think that this, and the martial soul you discover in lamenting the absence

*His nephew, the Honourable Thomas Stanley, Esquire, (and brother to Lord Stanley,) who is gone a volunteer to Boston in His Majesty’s service.