all America ought to
support them in their opposition." With such words in his mind, Gage had
to listen to the ringing of the church bells in welcome to Samuel Adams
as he returned from Philadelphia. Adams and Cushing, two of the Boston
delegates, now took their seats in the provincial congress, and the
remaining two delegates were invited to attend. The public acts of the
congress continued bold and uncompromising, and every little while there
came to the harried governor some public letter of remonstrance, or some
delegation from an aggrieved town or county convention, to object, to
expostulate, or to demand. Never were people better trained to politics
than the Americans at this moment. Gage was quite unfitted to cope with
them. Hutchinson would have been more vigorous, and even Bernard more
clever. The king fitly characterized his governor as "the mild general."

Gage, in his perplexity, now made trouble by suggesting the recruiting
of Indians against the day of rebellion, and called for more troops from
England. The disgusted king sought to replace him as commander-in-chief
by the one English soldier whom the Americans held in respect, in fact,
as the hero of the French war, almost in reverence. But Sir Jeffrey
Amherst bluntly told the king that he would not serve against the
Americans, "to whom he had been so much obliged." The king was forced to
content himself by sending to Gage's support three major-generals, as if
in the hope that their divided counsels would bring about a uniform
policy.

Of these three men America was to hear a good deal in the next seven
years. The least important of them was Sir Henry Clinton, of respectable
military skill. More striking in character was Sir John Burgoyne, poet,
dramatist, parliamentarian, upon whom America will ever look with the
indulgence which the victor feels for one who is signally and completely
defeated. "General Big-talk," the Yankee balladist called him when once
the siege was in progress. It is true that Burgoyne had an easy flow of
words, and we shall before long find him doing his share to make Gage
ridiculous. But Burgoyne had his manly parts, and though he lacked
greatness, he commands at times our sympathy and our respect. He made a
romantic marriage, which proved a happy one; and his real claim to
literary distinction lies in the letter in which, on his departure for
America, he commended his wife to the care of the king. Burgoyne, in a
still brutal age,