The Governor had gradually become mindful of an opposition as stubborn as it was persistent. He had encountered it in his treatment of the Tories, but not until Alexander Hamilton became an advocate of amnesty and oblivion, did Clinton recognise the centre and future leader of the opposing forces. Hamilton did not appear among those interested in the election of governor in 1777. His youth shut him out of Assembly and Congress, out of committees and conventions, but it did not shut him out of the army; and while Governor Clinton was wrestling with new problems of government in the formation of a new State, Hamilton was acting as secretary, aide, companion, and confidant of Washington, accepting suggestions as commands, and acquiescing in his chief's judgment with a fidelity born of love and admiration. In the history of war nothing is more beautiful than the friendship existing between the acknowledged leader of his country and this brave young officer, spirited and impulsive, brilliant and able, yet frank and candid, without ostentation and without egotism. It recalls a later-day relationship between Ulysses S. Grant and John A. Rawlins, his chief of staff. In July, 1781, Hamilton, in command of a corps, accompanied Washington in the forced march of the American army from New York to Yorktown. This afforded him the opportunity, so long and eagerly sought, of handling an independent command at a supreme moment of danger, and before the sun went down on the 14th of October, he had led his troops with fixed bayonets, under a heavy and constant fire, over abatis, ditch, and palisades; then, mounting the parapet, he leaped into the redoubt. Washington saw the impetuosity of the attack in the face of the murderous fire, the daring leap to the parapet with three of his soldiers, and the almost fatal spring into the redoubt. "Few cases," he says, "have exhibited greater proofs of intrepidity, coolness, and firmness." Three days later Cornwallis surrendered.