by Logan Beirne
License to Plunder
While Washington and the courts largely defended Americans’ lives and liberty, they were less respectful of the Tories’ property. As congressional and state coffers were rapidly depleted, many patriots eyed the Loyalists’ vast wealth as a means to pay for the war, which had driven the nation to the brink of bankruptcy.
Lacking taxation powers, Congress attempted to print more currency to satisfy its obligations. As a result, the Continental became nearly worthless and the populace became unable to afford even the basic necessities. “America has much more to fear from the effects of the large quantities of paper money than from the operations of [the British],” wrote one patriot in a letter to his father. He recounted the privation suffered by the people due to what he estimated to be a 200 percent increase in prices over a short time. A pair of boots cost him $21 ($444 current dollars), a hat went for $18 ($381), a quart of rum for $20 ($423), and a quart of whiskey for $10 ($211).1 These prices were crushing the American home front.
Even Washington’s mother was clamoring for supplies. At approximately seventy years old, Mary Bell Washington was an unstable character who lacked her son’s finesse. She carried the emotional scars of childhood tragedy and revealed them with her flair for the dramatic. Mary’s father died when she was three, and she was rendered an orphan when her mother passed on nine years later. The girl was graciously taken in by a family friend, George Eskridge.2 A prominent lawyer and member of the Virginia House of Burgesses, Eskridge was a part of the burgeoning colonial gentry. Fortunately for Mary, he was also a compassionate and down-to-earth man who made sure the young orphan was well cared for. He attempted to ensure that she had proper breeding and even introduced her to her future husband, Augustine Washington.
While Mary shunned the high society in which she was raised, she was thankful to Eskridge. Out of appreciation, she named her firstborn (and surprisingly sturdy) son after him. And she came to expect this new George to care for her as well, because she had grown into an anxious and needy woman.3
Her neediness was aggravated by the loss of her husband when George Washington was eleven years old. A slovenly woman with little regard for social conventions, she never remarried. Instead, Mary viewed her strapping eldest son as her husband’s replacement around the farm and in raising her four other children. Washington grew into the role and complied with her many demands. As he matured into an adventurous young man, however, he became eager to escape.
As self-centered as she was willful, Mary perceived George’s opportunities as competition for his devotion, and she thwarted his attempts to leave as a teen. When he eventually broke away to become a surveyor and then a soldier, Mary never completely forgave him. She sent him letters incessantly complaining of his abandonment and even boycotted his wedding to Martha when he was twenty-seven.4
A devoted son, Washington attempted to care for his mother even in his absence. He purchased for her a darling white house situated near those of his two brothers and his sister. Because she was not pleased, he built on a large porch overlooking a garden, but Mary remained unsatisfied and asked for an additional home on the other side of the mountains. Washington apparently received not an ounce of appreciation but plenty of grief.5 His mother excelled at doling that out.
Mary seemed never to acknowledge Washington’s amazing accomplishments as commander, either. Instead, she was known to say, “Ah George, had better have stayed at home and cultivated his farm.”6 She neither congratulated him on his military victories nor consoled him after his defeats. In fact, to add insult to injury, she was even rumored to be “one of the most rabid Tories”!7
Ignoring the fact that her son was battling for his life as well as the fate of the Revolution, Mary acted as though he had neglected her. Like much of America, she suffered from the wartime shortages of food and medicine. However, unlike most of America, she had a son who was the commander in chief. Mary did not care. While her eldest was desperately trying to feed and clothe his army, she went behind his back to petition the Virginia General Assembly for a government stipend. The speaker of the assembly, fearful of insulting Washington, timidly asked him how he would like the legislature to proceed.
Washington was mortified. He wrote his brother saying that their mother was “upon all occasions, and in all Companies complaining of the hardness of the times, of her wants and distresses; and if not in direct terms, at least by strong innuendos inviting favors which not only makes her appear in an unfavourable point of view but those also who are connected with her”—especially her eldest son, a man who worked assiduously to craft his public persona.8 Deeming her requests to be for “imaginary wants” that were “oftentimes insatiable,” he sent his brother on a mission to ascertain her real needs and ask that she cease embarrassing him.9 He also took the time to write the Virginia Assembly to explain his mother’s irrationality and instruct them to ignore her.10 He knew she was relatively well off compared with his troops starving around him. The country was suffering and he urged the assembly to deal with bigger problems.
As the costly war raged, Congress soon owed great debts to the nation’s own soldiers and civilians, as well as to France. The nation was on the verge of bankruptcy, but Congress was unwilling to default on its debts, seeing those obligations as sacrosanct. The congressmen did not feel the same way about the value of the currency, however.
By the winter of 1780, the financial situation was so bleak that Congress repudiated the Continental in order to stave off bankruptcy. Although Congress refused to default on the debt owed to its own citizens and foreign governments, it saw this devaluation as an alternative solution. Therefore, the national government retired the circulating Continentals by accepting them at just one-fortieth of their face value. 11
The result was near chaos. American troops watched in dismay as the value of their pay virtually evaporated. Bartenders stopped accepting Continental bills to purchase rum. Merchants barred their doors, unwilling to sell their wares for anything but gold or silver. Protesters marched through the streets of Philadelphia, parading as their unhappy mascot a tarred dog that was “feathered” with Continentals.12
Meanwhile, Benjamin Franklin was in Paris vigorously lobbying for more monetary aid. French loans and subsidies kept the United States financially afloat, but just barely. Even Franklin’s unmatched shrewdness could not get enough money to alleviate America’s suffering. And as the costly war drained even Louis XVI’s deep coffers, France’s patience waned.
The Americans were so desperate for funds that many turned to seizing the riches of their neighbors—the hated Loyalists. While the courts and politicians showed the Loyalists clemency when it came to their lives, the civilian authorities were less merciful to their wallets. Congress and the states launched an “attack on their personal fortunes which gradually impoverished them.” They began their monetary assault with a “nibbling system of fines and special taxation.”13 In addition to the double and treble taxes commonly imposed by the states, Loyalists also faced fines for refusing to fight for the patriots, for the misdeeds of the substitutes they hired to fight in their stead, and for almost any showing of support for the British.14 A Loyalist convicted of entering the British lines could be fined a whopping 2,000 pounds, roughly worth $350,000 in modern U.S. dollars!15
If the Loyalist could not—or would not—pay such fines, his property could be sold from under him.16 And the wretch whose property did not cover the fine risked a whipping, branding, or even the loss of an ear.17 This hardship was heightened by the fact that in some states, a Loyalist who refused to swear allegiance to the patriots’ cause could neither buy nor sell land, sue his neighbor for amounts owed, or even practice as an attorney if that was his profession.18
When Congress and the states were still not collecting enough from these Tory outlaws, they resorted to outright confiscation. Congress resolved “it be earnestly recommended to the several states, as soon as may be, to confiscate and make sale of all the r
eal and personal estate therein, of such of their inhabitants and other persons who have forfeited the same, and the right to the protection of their respective states, and to invest the money arising from the sales in continental loan office certificates.”19 The states readily heeded this recommendation. New York alone confiscated 3.6 million pounds worth of property from its Loyalist population.20
While the civil authorities were seizing property like a drunken kleptomaniac, Washington was far more restrained. As a corollary to his defense of Americans’ lives, the commander also defended their property.
It was the American commander’s role to protect Americans’ rights and employ the proper procedures determined by the republic. In fact, it was the Continental Congress and the state legislatures that often trampled on Americans’ property rights, while the commander in chief sought to protect them. For example, after Congress evicted Loyalists throughout Philadelphia from their own homes in 1778, Washington fired off a letter of protest, criticizing the move as “impolitic,” contending that “to exile many of its Inhabitants cannot be the interest of any State.”21 But even though he disagreed with some of the legislators’ actions, he understood such measures to be their prerogative.
The American commander refused to be a plundering one, and his men suffered for it. He had matured since those days leading up to the Jumonville Affair decades earlier, when he played loose with the rules on confiscation. Now, rather than permit his troops to ravage the countryside like ravenous hyenas, Washington believed his only lawful option was to obtain supplies via the proper congressional channels. And Congress had proven utterly inept at obtaining supplies for his army. Early in the war, they attempted to collect assessments from the states and supplement the shortfall by printing Continentals. But when the states were not paying enough and the Continentals plummeted in value, Congress then attempted a republican experiment in “direct supply.”22
Under this plan, the states were expected to supply guns, shoes, pork, etc. on request. Like a starving man shouting into the wind, these requests fell on deaf ears—the states were usually unable (and often unwilling) to supply Washington’s army. The states were concerned about defending themselves and reluctant to divert their resources for the protection of their sister states. New York even went so far as to take clothing meant for the Continental Army and keep it for the state militia. With his troops “perishing for want of it,” Washington lambasted this appropriation of the clothing as “a most extraordinary piece of Conduct”23
“People are starving,” Washington lamented; “the Cry of want of Provisions comes to me from every Quarter.”24 His army had been fighting for years without adequate pay or supplies. During the winter months especially, his men perished for want of food and clothing. The supply shortage became particularly acute at Valley Forge during the bitter winter of 1778.
Upon the arrival of Washington’s troops, the farming community of Valley Forge quickly transformed into a military city of death. Like locusts, the 14,000 soldiers culled trees for miles in every direction to use for construction material and firewood. They worked furiously to erect thousands of crude wooden huts before the frigid winds could pierce their ragged clothing. They built defensive fortifications, and raced against the freezing ground to dig miles of trenches designed by Washington to repel attacks. But the smell of the trenches was probably repulsive enough—they also came to serve as the army’s latrines. Within a few days, the pastoral valley turned into a field of putrid misery.
One patriot reported, “It is certain that half the army are half naked, and almost the whole army go barefoot.”25 Washington’s officers recommended that to keep the army in good fighting condition, each soldier needed daily rations of a pound of beef, pork or salted fish, a pound of flour or hard bread, a half gill of rum or whiskey (liquid courage), and a half pint of rice.26 But Congress could not keep up with this demand at a cost of three shillings and four pence per ration,27 and the soldiers were lucky to receive just a fraction of that amount, or any at all.
Washington pleaded for more. “I am now convinced, beyond a doubt,” he wrote to Congress, “that unless some great and capital change suddenly takes place in that line, this Army must inevitably be reduced to one or other of these three things. Starve, dissolve, or disperse, in order to obtain subsistence.” Bemoaning the lack of food and clothing, one of his officers summarized, “All things seem to contribute to the ruin of our cause.”28
A staggering 2,500 of Washington’s men were estimated to have perished that winter. His principled opposition to plunder was certainly put to the test; there must have been tremendous emotional and political pressure to allow his men to run carte blanche through the countryside seizing supplies for mere self-preservation. But Washington was determined to “crush in its earliest stage every attempt to plunder even those who are known to be Enemies to our Cause.”29 It was his role to protect the Americans. Only the civil authorities, he believed, had a right to strip Americans of their property.
Washington was fighting to create a democratic republic, not a military dictatorship, after all. And while his powers over war tactics were sweeping, even dictatorial, these did not extend to the American citizens themselves. And so he declared:The General prohibits both in Militia and Continental Troops, in the most positive terms, the infamous practice of plundering the Inhabitants, under the specious pretence of their being Tories—Let the persons who are known to be enemies to their Country, be seized and confin’d, and their Property disposed of, as the Law of the State directs—It is our business to give protection, and support, to the poor, distressed Inhabitants; not to multiply and increase their calamities. After the publication of this order, any officer, either Militia or Continental, found attempting to conceal the public Stores; plundering the Inhabitants under the notion of their being Tories, or venduing of Plunder taken from the Enemy, in any other manner than these Orders direct, may expect to be punished in the severest manner; and be obliged to account for every thing taken, or sold.30
There was also a practical side to Washington’s principled stance, because he believed that “no plundering Army was ever a successful one.”31 Cognizant of the fact that he was also fighting for the hearts and minds of the war-weary American people, he reasoned that plundering would “create dreadful Apprehensions in our Friends, and when it is once begun, none can tell where it will stop.”32 Confiscating property without authorization would “embitter the minds of the People, and excite perhaps hurtful jealousy against the Army.”33 Washington aimed to distinguish his army from the plundering British and Hessian forces that had terrorized the countryside. In this way, Washington was acting virtuously not just because he was a “good guy” but also because it was crucial to be seen as such.
Washington was so “resolved to put a stop to plundering, and converting either public, or private property” to military use that he reacted swiftly and severely when his troops violated his orders.34 Any soldier found to have plundered American property was to be “immediately confined” and “most rigidly punished.”35 Surprisingly, the prohibition on plunder by the army even extended, for the most part, to the property of civilian Loyalists—much to his ravenous troops’ dismay. While he detested the Loyalists as “abominable pests,” Washington was astonishingly protective of their rights.36 Though he viewed them as traitorous Americans, the key was that he still generally considered them to be Americans. And he believed this afforded them protection from his military. Many of his starving soldiers, as well as many congressmen, saw his refusal to confiscate Loyalist property as outrageous.
When some troops inevitably disobeyed his strict rules, Washington was not surprised—to his unending frustration, the Continental Army was not the paragon of American virtue that he wished it to be. Exasperated, he explained to Congress, “I have with some others, used my utmost endeavours to stop this horrid practice, but under the present lust after plunder, and want of Laws to punish Offenders, I might almost as well attempt to r
emove Mount Atlas. I have ordered instant corporal Punishment upon every Man who passes our Lines, or is seen with Plunder . . . .”37 The commander vigilantly strove to keep his unruly men in line.
On one occasion, a whole regiment was accused of “the infamous practice of Plundering.”38 Along with a party of twenty men, the colonel of the regiment had purportedly robbed a house on the outskirts of the American encampment. A bemused Washington wrote that the young man was found with “large Pier looking Glasses, Women’s Cloaths, and other Articles which one would think, could be of no Earthly use to him.”39 But this was no laughing matter. Washington promptly tried the soldier by court-martial, and when the court acquitted him and called for him merely to apologize, Washington rejected such leniency. He “ordered a Reconsideration of the matter, upon which, . . . they made Shift to Cashier him.”40 Then Washington proceeded to have the regiment expelled along with the colonel. For a man who needed all the troops he could get, this was true conviction.
Washington even went so far as to execute a member of his personal guard for taking supplies from an obstinate Tory. He had entrusted this guard, John Herring, with obtaining supplies from the countryside. With a horse and a pass, Herring set out and arrived at the home of Mr. Prince Howland.41 A known Loyalist living in Fishkill, New York, Howland owned a collection of fine garments, which Herring spotted during his visit.42 Following Washington’s protocol, Herring asked to purchase the clothes, but Howland refused to sell them; he was not one to aid the patriot cause.
Herring was not willing to take no for an answer. He gathered other members of Washington’s guard and organized a heist. They knew the policy under Washington: the penalty for such thievery was hanging. Therefore, they donned disguises. While careful to blacken their faces with burnt cork, these not-so-stealthy burglars foolishly wore the round bearskin hats that clearly identified them as Washington’s guard. The bumbling burglars broke into Howland’s house and stole the fine clothing along with some silver spoons and cash.43 Then they proceeded to loot his neighbor before returning to Washington’s camp. Howland promptly reported the theft, complete with a damning description of the burglars’ telltale hats.