by Logan Beirne
Having just celebrated his thirty-ninth birthday, Cornwallis was a short, well-fed gentleman, whose round, dour face and drooping eyes masked a cunning intellect. He was known as an affable man, but not above occasional fits of rage. Respected by his countrymen for his military service in the Seven Years’ War, he was feared by the American side as a tremendously shrewd “madman.”22 Cornwallis displayed a particularly aggressive countenance that winter, having been kept away from his adored wife.
Gathering additional forces along the way, Cornwallis swept through the cold, slushy roads of New Jersey towards Trenton. He was prepared to destroy Washington’s force of approximately 5,000 exhausted men with his 8,000 well-trained and well-fed troops. But the foxy Washington still had some more tricks up his painstakingly tailored sleeve.
Slowed by the muddy roads, Cornwallis’s main force did not arrive at the outskirts of Trenton until January 2, 1777. Washington knew he could not stop a prolonged assault, but because night battles were treacherous and therefore rare at the time, he needed only to hold back Cornwallis’s superior force until darkness fell.
As soon as the mass of redcoats was spotted five miles outside the town at ten o’clock in the morning, Washington unleashed a small team of sharpshooting riflemen to harass them. Firing unexpectedly from behind trees and walls, the Americans slowed down Cornwallis’s troops for five precious hours with their guerilla tactics. But the British forces were unstoppable. For Washington, the early January sunset could not come soon enough.
Cornwallis arrived in Trenton late that afternoon. Washington urgently sought a defensible position and came upon a scenic stone bridge over a creek. While the Assunpink Creek would normally be too shallow to provide a defense, it was now swollen from the storm, making it treacherous to ford. Besides, Washington did not have time to be too picky. Dusk settled in, and Washington’s forces stood nervously in position along the raging creek. As the drumbeats of the red hordes neared, they braced for the attack.
Amid the ensuing battle, Washington was like a one-man fortress. Sitting stoically on his horse on the American-held side of the bridge, he was a symbol of American resolve. When one soldier accidentally bumped into his commander during the battle, he was astonished to find that “the horse stood as firm as the rider and seemed to understand that he was not to quit his post and station.”23 Unlike his defeat in New York, Washington would see to it that his men did not retreat this time. He would personally make sure they stood and fought. And as usual, he led by example.
Washington’s “firm, composed, and majestic countenance . . . inspired confidence and assurance.”24 Amazingly, the Americans held their ground. The patriots fired mercilessly across the creek with their guns and eighteen artillery pieces as Cornwallis sent his men in suicidal droves towards the bridge.25 Between the descending darkness and the choking smoke, the British found themselves charging blindly into unfamiliar terrain.26 The darkness was pierced only by terrifying flashes of fire from muskets and cannon. The Americans drove back three attacks.
When the formerly picturesque bridge ran red with the “killed and wounded and red coats,” Cornwallis decided to wait for morning to try again.27 He knew he could readily overwhelm Washington’s beleaguered troops then. With the dawn’s light, his men would be able to see their targets and also wade through the waist-deep creek as it calmed. And so Cornwallis told his officers, “We’ve got the old fox safe now. We’ll go over and bag him in the morning.”28
But the fox was not about to wait around for that. Wary of being encircled by Cornwallis’s larger force, Washington had no intention of lingering to see what happened in the morning. Instead, he only waited until midnight’s darkness again came to his aid. Then he began another daring maneuver, using the same trick he had employed in his stealthy escape from Brooklyn. He left some men behind to tend fires and make noise, thus deceiving Cornwallis into believing the whole army remained just across the bridge, while the bulk of the force slipped away into the night.
Washington did not want just another retreat, however. He lusted for further victory. Emboldened by his new commander-in-chief powers, he was eager to use them to turn the tide. He could take quick, decisive action without getting approval from Congress. So instead of retreating again to safety across the Delaware River, he chose to drive deeper into enemy-held New Jersey.
Drawing upon his spy network, Washington obtained detailed maps of the region. From these, he learned of largely unknown backwoods roads that had recently been cut through the pine forests. His goal was to use these secret paths to slip past Cornwallis’s main force towards an unsuspecting British rearguard of just one thousand men. As he had done in Trenton, he wanted to conduct a surprise attack on an isolated inferior force; but first he had to get to them.
Washington ordered his exhausted men to march for twelve miles that night against the stinging winter winds.29 It was now January 3, and they had been running on adrenaline since their all-night march and their victory in Trenton a little over a week earlier. While their jubilance had buoyed them, the wear was starting to show.
The cold had returned, freezing the muddy roads and the Americans along with them. With starlight as a guide, they marched in utter silence, huddling together and struggling to survive in their scant clothing. Hungry and fatigued, many fell asleep standing up when their column stopped. 30 Some perished along the way, falling into icy ponds or simply collapsing on the road. Like marching zombies, the Americans had become so accustomed to hardship that they were seemingly numbed to the misery.
As daylight arrived, Washington and his men were approaching the sprawling farms and orchards of Princeton. The morning was “bright, serene, and extremely cold, with a hoarfrost that bespangled every object.”31 But the wearied Americans had little time to enjoy the sparkling scenery. Washington’s plan had worked beautifully: they stunned the enemy yet again. But the British quickly spotted the ragged Americans and fired on them. The battle was on.
“Parade with us, my brave fellows!” Washington shouted as he led the charge. With his hat in hand, he rode ahead on his horse, yelling “There is but a handful of the enemy, and we will have them directly.”32
His men were awe-struck by their commander. One admiring soldier marveled at seeing him “brave all the dangers of the field and his important life hanging as it were by a single hair with a thousand deaths flying around him. Believe me, I thought not of myself.”33 The Americans charged!
But the attack almost led to disaster. Perhaps too brave, Washington was caught directly in the crossfire as he led the charge. The British and the Americans were a mere thirty yards apart, and Washington in between, when both lines unleashed a barrage of bullets. An American officer, assuming that Washington had to have been hit, covered his eyes with his hat. But, miraculously, Washington appeared to be bulletproof. Again.
According to one popular tale, back during the Seven Years’ War, Washington’s Native American foes attempted to kill him in a particularly bloody battle. Their sharpshooters fired shot after shot right at him, with no effect. They were shocked. A brave recalled, “I had seventeen clear shots at him . . . and after all could not bring him to the ground. This man was not born to be killed by a bullet.” The chief ordered that they stop firing and declared, “This one is under the special protection of the Great Spirit.” Washington too chalked up his survival to a higher power, writing to his younger brother, “I now exist and appear in the land of the living by the miraculous care of Providence, that protected me beyond all human expectation; I had 4 Bullets through my Coat, and two Horses shot under me, and yet escaped unhurt.”34 He survived similar close calls in Brooklyn and during his retreat from Manhattan. And now during this battle at Princeton, he was again miraculously unscathed.
When the “most horrible music” of musketry subsided, Washington’s baritone voice emerged, ordering his men to continue their charge.35 His dashing figure pierced through the smoke like a supernatural force. Reveling in the battle
, the commander shouted, “It’s a fine fox chase boys!”36
He inspired the selflessness the Americans needed to overcome their fears. Despite being outnumbered approximately five to one, the British resisted fiercely, but it was of no use. The Americans overwhelmed their foes, and, in doing so, achieved another stunning victory. The patriots had exacted more than 500 enemy casualties and captured over 200 prisoners while losing just a few dozen men. 37 Washington had turned the psychological tide of the war.
When Cornwallis received word of the rout, he raced towards Princeton with his force “in a most infernal sweat, running, puffing and lowing and swearing at being so outwitted.”38 But he arrived an hour too late. Washington had already evacuated to the north, deeper into New Jersey. The patriots briskly marched another fifteen miles before collapsing in exhaustion.39 After some searching, Washington decided to hunker down for the winter in Morristown, New Jersey, for some much-needed rest. Just twenty-five miles from Howe’s stronghold in New York City, Morristown afforded the Continental Army protection by its surrounding hills as well as food from its ample farmland.
19
Idolatry
News of the American victories spread rapidly around the globe. Frederick the Great, the king of Prussia, described Washington’s back-to-back triumphs as “the most brilliant of any recorded in the annals of military accomplishments.”1 This was extremely high praise from a man of such great military acclaim—and the praise was justified. For the first time, it appeared to America and the world that the ragtag American forces might actually be able to humble the British Empire.
For his part, General Howe saw his recent defeats as little more than embarrassing skirmishes, but he did not care to suffer any more of them. He decided to abandon New Jersey for the winter. As usual, he was in no hurry. Happily partying with Mrs. Loring in New York, he assumed he would simply finish off Washington in the spring.
The Americans’ empowered commander had retaken most of New Jersey. And with it, Washington’s reputation reached new heights. “Had he lived in the days of idolatry,” the Pennsylvania Journal remarked, Washington would have been “worshipped as a god.”2 With his strong popular backing, the commander gained even more authority.
Previously, the war council appointed by Congress had shot down Washington’s ideas time and again, contributing to the disastrous delay in escaping Manhattan. Now Congress informed Washington that he was “not bound by their opinion, but ought finally to direct every measure according to his own judgment.”3 Washington had grown accustomed to the frank debate in the war council meetings, and he would continue to hold these meetings, but now he felt free to reject the council’s conclusions. And he would.4 He had the power to lead his troops as he saw fit.
At this stage, Washington was less concerned about public opinion than he was about protecting his frazzled and fatigued army. In order to do so, he would have to assert his authority more forcefully vis-à-vis the politicians. For one thing, he began to criticize the congressmen more openly. In one letter, he vented his frustration over Congress’s “superficial view of the [war] and circumstances of things in general and their Own Troops in particular.” According to Washington, Congress was “not sufficiently acquainted with the state and strength of the army.”5
When he obtained reports that Congress had ordered up troops without informing him, he wrote, “I heartily wish Congress would inform me of the dispositions they make of the troops. Their not doing it, disconcerts my arrangements and involves me in difficulties.”6 Washington had grown impatient with Congress’s military incompetency and did not want them attempting to lead troops behind his back. The American army could no longer function as a many-headed beast; it needed to be united under Washington’s decisive command. Congress largely agreed and acknowledged that their commander was better equipped to make the military decisions.
In another letter, Washington blasted congressmen for leaking reports to the public. To Washington, proper public disclosure was imperative, and he ran his army accordingly. He had little patience with blabbing congressmen. He blasted Congress as “impolitic” and behaving “injuriously to the common cause.” He called it “still more impolitic . . . for individual members to detail matters to the public without Stamping them with the authority of their body.”7 He was now the master of the war effort, and Congress was hampering it. Washington wanted Congress to “shape up” and he let them know it.
Throwing his weight around, Washington bluntly told Congress, “we can no longer drudge on in the old way.”8 He was frustrated that Congress had granted him the power to fight but he still lacked the resources to do so. He faulted Congress for “ill-timing the adoption of measures,” explaining, “by delay in the execution of them, or by unwarranted jealousies, we incur enormous expenses and derive not benefit from them.”9 The young nation’s scarce resources were precious and Washington, who had honed his penny-pinching skill as he shrewdly built up Mount Vernon in Virginia, had some ardent opinions on the matter. He urged Congress to assert its political authority in relation to the states so that he might better obtain the means to pay, feed, clothe, and arm his troops. This was a far cry from the servile Washington who had edited his letters to make them sound more deferential early in the war.
Like earlier in the war, Washington’s actions reinforced his words. But now, he began standing up to Congress rather than obligingly following its militarily imprudent commands. For example, when some congressmen called for another foolhardy attempt to invade Canada, he objected. “I am always happy to concur in sentiment with Congress,” he wrote, “and I view the emancipation of Canada as an Object very interesting to the future prosperity and tranquility of these States; but I am sorry to say, the plan proposed for the purpose does not appear to me to be eligible.”10 Ethan Allen’s invasion of Canada and subsequent attempts had been disasters, and Washington did not want to repeat them. While many in Congress likewise saw an invasion of Canada as impractical, other members continued to press the matter. When the issue came up again a month later, Washington repeated his opposition and declined to proceed with the invasion.11 He was now the master of war tactics, not Congress, since he was far better versed in military strategy and more familiar with the strength of his own forces. Barely keeping his army together, he knew that an offensive against Canada would be a ludicrous military decision.
The commander risked exceeding the limits of his vast military authority by objecting to the invasion on political grounds as well. He reasoned that ousting the British from Quebec would leave the country vulnerable to a French attack down the road. 12 While the Americans were courting the French as allies, Washington still did not trust his old adversaries. Luckily for the American cause, Congress acquiesced to their commander’s opposition and abandoned the invasion.
Washington had grown bold. In one episode he may have gone too far. He asserted too much authority, and some politicians began to question their benevolent military dictator.
In an effort to turn more of the patriots’ American brothers against them, General Howe offered amnesty to defectors. He proposed that any American who swore allegiance to the Crown would be pardoned. This was a very appealing proposition for many Americans—especially since it appeared that the British were winning. The patriotic exuberance that characterized the beginning of the war had faded. And now many Americans saw Howe’s offer as a great opportunity to return to their homes and farms in peace, and to escape punishment for their transgressions against the mother country. If Washington was going to lose anyway, they might as well save themselves.
This was a tremendous predicament for Washington, as Howe’s amnesty proposal threatened to spur mass defection from the American cause. Washington wrote with alarm that many Americans were being “Influenced By Inimical Motives, [and] Intimidated By The Threats Of The Enemy.”13 Many were beginning to swear allegiance back to the Crown. Washington already faced Loyalist Americans who were working against him, but now Howe’s plot
threatened to turn the moderates and even some patriots against him as well—or at least keep them from fighting on his side.
Washington no longer knew whom he could count on to fight for him, and thus he drew the proverbial line in the sand.
Washington declared that “it had become necessary to distinguish between the friends of America and those of Great-Britain.” So he ordered an oath of his own. In early 1777, to pressure his countrymen to “stand ready to defend the [nation] against every hostile invasion,” Washington presented an ultimatum:. . . I do therefore, in behalf of the United States, by virtue of the powers committed to me by Congress, hereby strictly command and require every person having subscribed such declaration, taken such oath, and accepted such protection and certificates from Lord and General Howe, or any person acting under their authority, forthwith to repair to Head-Quarters, or to the quarters of the nearest general officer of the Continental Army or Militia (until farther provision can be made by the civil authority) and there deliver up such protections, certificates, and passports, and take the oath of allegiance to the United States of America.14
This was an uncharacteristically draconian order. But if Howe’s oath was persuading moderate Americans to abandon the patriot cause, Washington would take drastic measures to reverse that trend. He required this “counter-oath” from his countrymen if they wanted to remain in their homes. If they had pledged their allegiance to Britain and now refused to pledge to the United States, then they’d better run. Washington was “hereby granting full liberty to all such as prefer the interest and protection of Great-Britain to the freedom and happiness of their country, forthwith to withdraw themselves and families within the enemy’s lines.” Adding a thinly veiled threat, Washington concluded, “And I do hereby declare that all and every person, who may neglect or refuse to comply with this order, within thirty days from the date hereof, will be deemed adherents to the King of Great-Britain, and treated as common enemies of the American States.”15