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As Washington looks on General Benjamin Lincoln accepts the sword of
surrender offered by British General Charles O'Hara on behalf of Lord
Cornwallis at Yorktown ending major combat between armies in North
America during the Revolution--but not ending the war itself.
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The British musicians had it right when they played The
World Turned Upside Down on October 19, 1781. On that day British forces commanded by Lieutenant General Lord Cornwallis marched out of their fortifications
at Yorktown, Virginia between ranks of Continental Army and French
troops. Cornwallis, feigning illness, dispatched Irish born Brigadier General Charles O’Hara to do the distasteful duty. O’Hara attempted to offer the sword of surrender to the senior French officer, the Comte de Rochambeau
who declined pointing to General George Washington. Washington, irked at Cornwallis’s breach of
decorum, likewise refused to accept the sword from an inferior officer. He chose
his subordinate, General Benjamin
Lincoln, who had been humiliated
at the surrender of Savannah, Georgia, to accept the
sword. 7,087 British and German mercenary officers and enlisted
men and 840 sailors from the British
fleet in the York River lay down their
arms.
Modern historians accurately
emphasize that the victory at
Yorktown would have been impossible
except for the large French Army under Rochambeau and the presence of the French Fleet under the Comte de Grasse at sea. After the patriotic
hagiography of Washington in the 19th Century, it has become fashionable
to decry the Continental commander’s generalship, particularly in
light of his long string of battlefield losses to the
British—especially the disastrous Long Island campaign. But Washington was masterfully in command
of the operation from the time the allies reached agreement in Newport,
Rhode Island.
Since the moral boosting but small
victories at Trenton and Princeton, Washington’s main
achievement had been just keeping his army in the field against a far
superior force through terrible deprivation and brutal winters at
Valley Forge and Morristown, with poor material support from
a Congress with no power to levy taxes in to pay for the
war.
On the battlefield in personal command,
Washington’s record was at best mixed. In 1777 he lost the Battle of
Brandywine allowing Major General Lord William Howe, Commander in
Chief of His Majesty’s Forces in North America, to
capture Philadelphia and also lost an attempt to go on the offensive
at Germantown. He was able to
deter the always slow and timid Howe from marching his army up the Hudson
to join up with Gentleman Johnny Burgoyne’s invasion force from Canada. A northern Army under Horatio Gates
with the notable assistance of Benedict Arnold was able to destroy
Burgoyne’s army in battles around Saratoga—a turning point in the war
which encouraged the French to enter the conflict. But because he was not on the scene,
Washington would get scant credit in his role as over-all Commander
in Chief.
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Washington reams General Charles Lee a new one and dismisses him on the
spot before rallying his fleeing troops at the Battle of Monmouth--a
stalemate that none-the-less turned the British back to New York.
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The Battle of Monmouth in June of 1778,
one of the largest field battles of the war, ended up at tactical tie
after the early stages of the Continental attack against an army under new
British commander Sir Henry Clinton were bungled by Washington’s old
rival for command, General Charles Lee who he angrily relieved
in the field. Washington rallied
his fleeing troops and snatched a stalemate from the jaws of
defeat. Despite not being beaten in
the field, however, Clinton was discouraged and retreated to New York achieving
Washington’s most important strategic mission—keeping the Continental
Army in intact to fight another day.
In 1779 Clinton moved up the Hudson but was checked
by a counter-offensive by outnumbered Continental units under General
Mad Anthony Wayne. Skirmishes at Verplanck’s Point and at Stony
Point showed that the Continental infantry
had become formidable and were an
enormous boost to morale. With the Continental also still in possession
of key fortifications on the Hudson,
Clinton was forced to turn back again.
While Washington went into
another brutal winter encampment a Morristown, New Jersey, Clinton and much of
his Army sailed south where they
took Savannah from troops under General
Benjamin Lincoln. As much of the
fighting shifted south, Washington’s influence
in Congress was at its low point
and he could not get his choice of Nathaniel Greene to take command there
approved. Instead they appointed the official victor of Saratoga, Horatio
Gates, who had been involved in plots
to replace Washington in over-all command.
Gates failed badly and was
finally replaced by Green who initiated a Fabian
strategy of hit-and-run attacks
and engaging in bloody battles which the British technically won but sustained heavy
losses. The British, now under
Cornwallis after Clinton returned to New York, were forced to retreat north
into Virginia where the Marquis de
Lafayette, Washington’s young
favorite, was playing cat and mouse with British raiders under Tory Col. Banastre Tarleton and turncoat Benedict
Arnold.
The winter of 1780-81 instead of concentrating
the army in one encampment as in the past, Washington dispersed his regiments
to towns around New York, New Jersey, and Pennsylvania in order to supplement inadequate rations from Congress with foraging opportunities. On New
Year’s Day, 1781 veteran troops
of the Pennsylvania Line, some of
the finest troops in the Army under the command of Anthony Wayne, mutinied.
They had not been paid by Pennsylvania since enlistment. In fact the only money most had ever seen was
a paltry $20 enlistment bonus, far
less than that paid by other states.
They had enlisted for “three years or the duration of the war” and
figured that their enlistments expired on the First. They resolved to march on Philadelphia to
demand back pay. One officer was killed
trying to prevent it. A committee of sergeants was elected to present
their petition and negotiate.
They organized themselves into units
and set off on an orderly march.
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The Mutiny of the Pennsylvania Line on New Year's Day 1781 was more
orderly than this illustration. One officer was shot trying to prevent
the men from leaving camp, but most marched away peacefully and in good
order.
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When Clinton heard of the mutiny,
he offered the men immunity and parole plus enrolment bonuses and standard Regular
Army pay if they would switch
sides. But the men refused and
declared their loyalty to the new nation.
Washington and Wayne were sympathetic to the men and wrote in their
behalf to both Congress and the government of Pennsylvania. Eventually the crisis was averted due to loans arranged by financier Robert Morris. Pennsylvanian
agreed to discharge the three year men who did not accept a
new, more generous, re-enlistment bonus.
Approximately 1,250 infantrymen and 67 artillerymen were discharged. Some later returned to the service for new
bonuses. Only 1,050 remained on the
rolls. Some regiments were disbanded and
their remaining officers and men transferred
to other units. Almost everyone was
given a furlough to go home with
instructions to assemble with their new regiments which were each posted to
different towns. Almost all came
back. By spring Wayne was able to
take command and march his men out for another campaign season.
The close thing, which had sent Congress into a panic, was indicative of Washington’s struggle keeping his army together and effective.
The years of effective stalemate between
Washington’s main army and Clinton in New York was the background when Rochambeau
arrived at Newport, Rhode Island along
with a formidable French fleet under Admiral François Joseph Paul de Grasse, and $20,000 in coin for the cash strapped Continental Army.
Together Washington and the French hashed out the plan to move swiftly to trap Cornwallis’s army in Virginia before Clinton could re-enforce
it. The audacious details of moving two entire armies—4,000 Continentals
and 5,000 French—by a combination of forced
march and sail all the way from Newport to Virginia were mostly the work of
Washington himself.
The result was that the trap was successfully sprung, a text
book siege and gallant final assault,
plus the French fleet fighting off the Royal
Navy and preventing
re-enforcements. The world was indeed
turned upside down. But the war was not over.
Clinton still had a large Army in New York and fighting on the western Frontier continued with ever
greater cruelty and brutality on both sides.
But the American Revolution was now
another world war, an extension of a long series of European and
colonial conflicts between the
British and the French. The interests of both nations in the Caribbean, Africa, and India were now
in play in addition to the fate of American
Independence. The treasuries of both countries were being
bled dry and their military and naval
forces stretched to the limit. In Paris
Benjamin Franklin and John Adams now had leverage to open negotiations to end the war with recognition of
U.S, Independence. But the process would
take time.
Under the circumstances neither
Washington nor Clinton wanted to risk their armies wastefully. They went into a long period of wary, watchful waiting.
But
the Continental Army was idle and hungry.
An idle, hungry army is a very dangerous
thing.
The
aftermath of other revolutions won
by rebel armies after protracted wars would come to similar cross roads. It almost never ended well. Usually the victorious General would place himself at the head of his troops and overthrow
what civil revolutionary authority there
was, declaring himself President,
Dictator, or Monarch and consolidating
his power by lavishing the spoils of war
on his officers and men.
Other times revolutions devolved
into bitter civil war. Almost never did
it end with civil government intact
and hardly a shot fired in anger.
One
man, General Washington himself, prevented
calamity in one of the most important
acts of his distinguished career and one that is little remembered
today. This is what happened.
The
bulk of the Army had been encamped at Newburgh,
New York to keep the British Army under
close surveillance and bottled up in
New York City since March of
1782. As another winter approached, all
eyes turned to Congress where proposals to provide pensions when the Army was inevitably
disbanded were being debated.
In
1780, to squelch earlier discontent among the troops, Congress had pledged to, on the model of the British, put all officers on half-pay for the rest of their lives. Now the treasury,
such as it was, was empty and with no
power to compel the states to fund the government under the new Articles of Confederation, there was no way to make good on that
promise. Worse, in January Superintendent of Finance Robert Morris announced
that the coffers were empty and that
he was suspending paying the Army.
Previously
Morris, a financier and one of the wealthiest men in the new nation, had
met such emergencies by personally
guaranteeing notes—and buying many
of them himself. That he refused to do
so at this juncture was part a plan of
a faction of Congress known as the Nationalists to put pressure on the new government to assert limited powers of taxation, notably the ability to levy an import duty or impost. This was bitterly opposed by a larger block of Congress and many states had passed instructions to their delegates forbidding them to vote in favor of
payments of pensions fearing that it would force the adoption of taxation.
The
Nationalists, who included Morris, Gouverneur
Morris of New York, James Madison, and
Alexander Hamilton who had left the
Army to take a seat in Congress from
New York, backed the impost plan not only to meet obligations to the Army, but
to pay the many debts Congress amassed during the Revolution. They hoped that a possible crisis involving
the Army might force Congress to move.
They were in more or less confidential
communication with officers in the Army, including some senior commanders.
Among
those was one of Washington’s favorite officers, General Henry Knox who was encouraged to draft a memorial to
Congress signed by other senior
officers of such impressive stature
that they could not be dismissed as
mere malcontents. After expressing dissatisfaction with the
suspension of pay, the memorial offered a
compromise on the pension issue.
Instead of half pay for a life time, they indicated the Army would be
satisfied with a lump sum payment. It concluded with a not very veiled threat that “that any further
experiments on their [the army’s] patience may have fatal effects.” Private messages were also sent to Secretary of War Benjamin Lincoln,
himself recently out of the Army and the officer delegated by Washington to
receive the surrender of the British at Yorktown,
that made clear the dangerous state of
moral in the Army.
The
memorial was delivered to Congress by General
Alexander McDougall and Colonels John
Brooks and Matthias Ogden in
late December 1782. McDougall and Brooks
lingered in Philadelphia to lobby
Congress and monitor the situation. They met with a special committee in early January to explain the seriousness of
the situation. That committee reported
to the whole body on January 22 at which time Robert Morris shocked Congress by
announcing his resignation in despair of the body acting. The nationalists twice tried to pass
legislation calling for pensions at full pay to end on a specific date as an alternative to the original lifetime
half pay or the Army’s immediate lump sum.
On February 4 Congress rejected the proposal for the second time.
Brooks
hastened back to Newburgh to rally the
officer corps for more decisive action. McDougall wrote Knox under the significant pseudonym Brutus suggested that the Army refuse
to disband when peace was announced until their demands were met. That action would be virtual mutiny in the
face of an order from Congress to demobilize. Knox was sympathetic
but non-committal.
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General Horatio Gates, the victor in the Saratoga campaign with the
significant assistance of Benedict Arnold, was the second senior officer
in the Army but was involved with the Newberg conspirators and was not
trusted by Washington. He sat helplessly at the meeting of officer who
Washington masterfully won over with a dramatic gesture.
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Meanwhile
other dissenting forces in the Army became involved. That included the staff of Washington’s chief
rival General Horatio Gates, the victor at Saratoga
and a clique of younger officers
long dissatisfied with Washington’s leadership and outside the thrall of the cult of personal loyalty to him.
Nationalists in Congress may have believed that these officers might be
the core of a coup d’état should it
become necessary.
By
mid-February rumors that a peace
treaty was at hand swirled around both the capital in Philadelphia and the camp
in Newburgh, bring the situation closer to crisis. Hamilton wrote privately to Washington, his patron in the Army and who was said to
regard him, like the Marquis de Lafayette as a son. Taking advantage of the
relationship, Hamilton warned the General of the dangers in his camp and urged
him to “take the direction” of the
army’s anger—in other words be ready to assume
command of a coup against Congress.
Shocked, Washington
wrote back that he sympathized with
the plights of both the Army and of
Congress but flatly said that he would be no
part of a plan to use the Army as a
threat to the civil government in
contradiction to the republican principles on which the war
had been conducted.
On
February 21 Knox dashed the hopes of
Congressional Nationalists that he would lend his prestige to a threat not to
disband the Army undoubtedly after consultation
with Washington. In letters he expressed
again sympathy for the Army’s plight but declared he would not participate in
any mutiny or revolt and expressed the hope that the Army would only be used
“against the Enemies of the Liberties in America.”
Without
the support of Washington and Knox—indeed with their declared opposition—the
Nationalists turned their attention to Gates as their best bet for a man on a
white horse. They sent Gates a
signal of their support should he decide to move with Pennsylvania Colonel Walter Stewart, returning to duty after an
illness. He arrived in camp on March 8
and met with Gates. Rumors about an impending
demonstration of some kind swirled through the camp.
On
March 10 an unsigned letter, later
attributed to Major John Armstrong, Jr. who was an aide to Gates, began circulating in camp calling for a meeting of field grade officers the next day,
March 11 at 11 am.
As
soon as Washington got wind of it he denounced
the “disorderly... and irregular nature” of the anonymously called meeting in his
general orders of the day on the
morning of the 11th. Without explicitly banning the meeting, he proposed his
own meeting of officers on March 15. The
letter was carefully worded to give
the impression that Washington
himself would not attend. Instead, he directed the meeting to be chaired by the “senior officer present” knowing full well that would be Gates.
The
next day a second anonymous letter appeared claiming that Washington’s
endorsement of a meeting on the 15th was a signal the General would support a
threat in force to Congress. Washington
was furious.
For
the next three days the camp was awash in rumors and whispered plot.
On
the appointed time on Saturday, March 15 the officers assembled in the New Building or Temple which had just been constructed and was the largest facility in camp capable of
hold such a meeting. As expected, Gates
took the chair. Shortly after he called
the meeting to order, Washington suddenly and unexpectedly appeared and asked
permission to address the assembly.
His
sudden appearance caused quite a stir—and for one of the few times in his
experience in the Army the greeting was
not unanimously adulatory. Younger officers and those who had not
personally served close to him hooted
and jeered. Gates must have been none to glad to see
his commander, but had no choice but
to allow him to speak.
Washington
came to the front of the room and turned to face his officers. He gave a short speech with unusual
heat and passion, a departure from his carefully cultivated image of lofty
probity. He had carefully drafted
the statement, but gave it without notes
as if extemporaneously. He called upon the assembly to oppose anyone “who wickedly attempts to
open the floodgates of civil discord and deluge our rising empire in blood.”
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"I have grown not only gray, but nearly blind in the service of my country" Washington told his brother officers at Newburgh bringing many to tears and diffusing a potential mutiny or coup against Congress.
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Then
he drew sheets of paper folded in
half length-wise from inside his coat.
It was a letter from a member of Congress, he said. He fumbled
with the paper and seemed to have
difficulty reading it. He then drew
from another pocket a new pair of spectacles.
Almost no one except his closest aides had yet seen him wear
them. He slowly unfolded them and perched
them unsteadily on his nose.
“Gentlemen,
you will permit me to put on my spectacles, for I have not only grown gray but
almost blind in the service of my country.”
Many of the officers wept. The sympathy
and sentiment of the room swung
immediately to Washington. After reading
the letter, which really added little to the issue at hand, the General bowed and left the building without waiting
for a response. He didn’t have to
wait. The conspiracy or potential coup
or whatever had been afoot collapsed.
A motion was made to denounce the
anonymous letters. It passed virtually
unanimously with on Colonel Timothy
Pickering protesting. Other motions affirmed the loyalty of the Army. A committee consisting of General Knox and
Colonel Brooks was appointed to draft a final resolution which expressed the “utmost confidence” of the Army in
Congress and the “disdain and abhorrence”
for the irregular proposals circulated earlier.
How
much of the proceedings that morning were carefully stage-managed in advance by Washington and Knox and how much was happy accident is hotly debated by historians.
I am in the camp that recognizes Washington as a brilliant tactician. The old fox knew exactly what he was doing.
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The
speech went down in history as the Newburgh
Address, but it was a bit of stage business that carried the day.
Meanwhile
Washington sent copies of both the anonymous letters and his address to
Congress which was debating, yet again, the pension issue. Even steadfast opponents now realized how narrowly
disaster had been averted. The Nationalist now saw an opportunity. They advised the creation of a committee to study the intelligence and
come up with a solution. Shrewdly, they stacked the committee with steadfast opponents of any pension
plan. But presented with mounting
evidence of deep dissatisfaction in the Army and the prospect that in the
future Washington might not be able to so deftly turn aside open rebellion, one
anti-pension delegate, Eliphalet Dyer
of Connecticut, now came forward with
a proposal for a lump-sum payment, including arrears pay.
As
finally approved, the pension plan called for half-pay for five years, mirroring the solution proposed by Knox
and twice rejected before. The payment
was not in cash, but in government bonds, highly speculative securities many thought
would be worthless. Many officers sold their bonds to speculators for pennies on the dollar. But
those who held onto the bonds were made whole. Thanks to the adoption of the Constitution, the new ability of the
nation to levy import duties and all of the taxes, and Secretary of the Treasury Alexander Hamilton’s determination to
fully pay off Revolutionary War debt,
the bonds were redeemed by the
government at full value in 1790.
But
Congress was not yet out of the woods.
Discontent spread to the still uncompensated
non-commissioned officers and there
was some minor rioting in camp and
talk of marching on Philadelphia to claim their back pay. Once again the specter of the Army refusing
to disband was raised.
On
April 19, eight years to the day since the Battles
of Lexington and Concord, with
news of a final Peace Treaty confirmed,
Washington declared the war over. Congress quickly ordered him to disband the
Army and voted each enlisted man and
non-commissioned officer three months’
pay. Since there were still no funds
in the treasury, Robert Morris stepped up $800,000 in notes on his personal accounts to the troops. Many soldiers, in need of cash just to get
home, sold their notes to speculators at deep discounts. The notes, whether retained by the soldiers
or by the speculators were also paid off by Hamilton.
Soldiers
left camp over the next few months either on a furlough from which they never expected to be recalled or outright
discharged. The notes were given them
upon their separation. This caused
difficulties when a Pennsylvania regiment
was swept by rumors that they would be discharged before getting their
notes. They departed camp and marched on
Philadelphia in June, sending Congress scurrying to Princeton, New Jersey. There is evidence that some supporters of the
Newburgh plot also had a hand in this dangerous mini-uprising including Walter Stewart, John Armstrong, and
Gouverneur Morris.
The
crisis passed. The Army was formally disbanded in November except for small garrisons at West Point and on the frontier.
But
Washington had one last appearance before his officers which was also critical
in staving off the hopes of some
that they could become a hereditary
class of American aristocrats.
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Washington entered New York City to wild cheers after seeing the signal that the last British ship had taken sail in 1783.
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It
was only nine days after the English under
Sir Guy Carlson, Commander-in-Chief of all British Forces in
North America, sailed out of New
York Harbor. On the way out an enraged gunner on one of the ships let
go one final round on Patriot crowds jeering on Staten Island. The ball plunked pitifully in the water
well short of its target. Barring some
skirmishing by Native allies on the
frontier that was the last shot of
the war. The American Revolution was
essentially over and to the world’s surprise the upstart Colonies were the victors.
Washington
was hovering outside the city with many of his staff officers and top
commanders waiting to take control of
the last bastion of British power in the fledgling states.
Although
Carlson had received orders from London to
evacuate in August, he informed the President
of Congress in a letter that it would take weeks to complete the task
because he would also be taking with
him all of the Tory refugees who
could reach the city—eventually 29,000 of them—and slaves who had escaped
into British lines after they were promised
freedom. By the treaty ending the
war, the slaves were supposed to be returned
to their “rightful owners” but despite
the objections of Southern members of Congress, the new
government was eager enough to see the Red
Coat army gone that they were willing to wink at this breach of
the treaty.
With
the refugees and former slaves safely aboard, Carlton finally loaded his
garrisons and set sail on November 27.
Washington
refused to enter the city until his scouts
confirmed that all the troops were gone
and an English ensign flying from a high pole on the Battery Park was hauled down and replaced by American colors. That was hard
because the British had greased the
pole. Numerous attempts were made before the flag was finally hauled down and
the Stars and Stripes were nailed to the pole.
Immediately
upon spying the new flag, Washington entered the city at the head of his troops
and paraded down Broadway to the Battery.
Washington
did not plan to stay long in New York after securing the city. Like all
soldiers, he was eager to return home. But he had a few loose ends to wrap up first.
In
the more than two years since the last major battle, the defeat of Cornwallis’s army at Yorktown, Washington had to keep his
army together and in the field until a treaty could be concluded and the
British left. But with the immediate
military threat removed, Congress had been even more reluctant than usual to
support the troops with supplies, provisions, and pay. With victory at hand actual privation stalked
the Army as it had in the bleakest days of the war.
Moral
not only suffered, but mutiny brewed.
Although many veterans had been mustered
out, fresh levies had taken their place.
A band of Pennsylvania troops
stationed at Lancaster moved to
march on the capital at Philadelphia. They entered the city unobstructed and
were joined by members of the local
garrison who trapped Congress in
the State House.
Although
the mutiny was quelled and the emergency passed, Washington was mortified. He was also concerned by similar sentiments
being voiced even among his closest circle of brother officers. Many
wanted their beloved commander to seize
the government and rule as either a dictator—or even a king—who would dispense favors and honors among them.
Virtually unique in all history, Washington, the
victorious commander, would have none of it.
He sincerely believed in civilian government and civilian authority over
the military, even though it caused him no end of vexations.
He
decided to call his officers together for a “final farewell” before departing the city. He chose the Frauncis Tavern, one of the few
meeting places with food and drink in the city large enough for the
gathering. The tavern on Pearl Street had been built as the elegant mansion for a wealthy merchant
but had been a popular gathering point
since before the Revolution.
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At
noon on December 4, 1782, the day designated by Congress for the disbandment of
the Continental Army, General
Washington entered the Long Room of
the tavern where 80 of his officers, including most of those to whom he was
personally connected, were assembled. It
was an emotional scene. It was described
in 1830 in a memoir by Colonel Benjamin
Tallmadge. Although some historians doubt the accuracy of such
recollections long after the fact, most believe that something very like the
scene he described actually took place:
At 12 o’clock the officers repaired to Fraunces Tavern in
Pearl Street where General Washington had appointed to meet them and to take
his final leave of them. We had been assembled but a few moments when his
excellence entered the room. His emotions were too strong to be concealed which
seemed to be reciprocated by every officer present. After partaking of a slight
refreshment in almost breathless silence the General filled his glass with wine
and turning to the officers said, “With a heart full of love and gratitude I
now take leave of you. I most devoutly wish that your latter days may be as
prosperous and happy as your former ones have been glorious and honorable.”
After the officers had taken a glass of wine General
Washington said “I cannot come to each of you but shall feel obliged if each of
you will come and take me by the hand.” General Knox being nearest to him turned
to the Commander-in-chief who, suffused in tears, was incapable of utterance
but grasped his hand when they embraced each other in silence. In the same
affectionate manner every officer in the room marched up and parted with his
general in chief. Such a scene of sorrow and weeping I had never before
witnessed and fondly hope I may never be called to witness again.
Then, without much further ceremony or the need for pointed
commentary, the offers rose to escort their commander to a barge that took him to New Jersey. From there he rode to Annapolis, Maryland where Congress was sitting after the mutiny
scare in Philadelphia. There he submitted
a final report and tendered his resignation. Then on to retirement at Mount Vernon.
These final displays
were the example to his officers and
troops. There would be no military coup,
no dictatorship, no new American royalty and aristocracy.
It was an act more
profound in many ways than any battlefield victory.
Tomorrow—First
in Peace.
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