It was in the course of this effort to strengthen the northern forces that Washington received his second budget of bad news during the time Greene was in Philadelphia: Recruitment was progressing so slowly that it might be termed a failure, not to say a scandal. As Washington cited figures in explaining why more troops had not reached Peekskill, he grew almost sarcastic:
. . . sorry I am to observe, the militia have got tired, and . . . the Colonels of the Continental Regiments have been greatly deceived themselves, have greatly deceived me, or the most unheard of desertions or most scandalous peculations have prevailed, among the officers who have been employed in recruiting; for Regiments, reported two or three months ago to be half completed are, upon the Colonels being called upon in positive terms for a just state of them, found to contain less than 100 men; and this is not the case of a single Regiment only, but of many.
There were black clouds in the spring sky when Greene returned, but some bright spots could be seen. The brig Sally had arrived in the Delaware with 6800 muskets, 1500 gunlocks and other ordnance stores. An express brought word on the twenty-ninth that the French ship Mercury had anchored safely March 17 at Portsmouth, New Hampshire, with nearly twelve thousand firelocks, one thousand barrels of powder, forty-eight bales of woolens and many scarce articles.
Other wants were not relieved by anything that Greene had been able to accomplish in Philadelphia, though many of the Army’s problems had been explained to Delegates who were disposed to assist as best they could under their awkward system of administration by committee. Greene brought back much news of appointments, reproofs and suspension. Gates was to proceed to Ticonderoga and to take command there in place of Schuyler; Congress on receipt of charges against the senior naval officer, Commodore Esek Hopkins, had suspended him from command; the position of commandant of the forts in the New York highlands had been created and George Clinton had been named to it.
Washington digested Greene’s report and turned again to his task of confining Howe, clinging to restive militia, trying to expedite recruiting, and arousing officers from their lassitude. In particular, Washington sought to improve his system of intelligence so that he could discover quickly and accurately the direction of the enemy’s advance. The test was certain to come, he thought, long before the Army was large enough to meet it victoriously. That raid on Peekskill might mean that Howe was planning to ascend the Hudson. Now, on the last day of March, an American captain of a “tobacco ship” who had escaped from New York reported at Headquarters. About three thousand troops, he stated, had embarked there and apparently were ready to sail. “It was generally said,” Washington wrote after the examination of the captain, “they had in contemplation an expedition to Chesapeake Bay, and to make a descent on the Eastern Shore.” Further, “there were some who conjectured, they mean to go up the North River and to take the highland fortifications if possible.”
The first days of April brought no confirmation of the report by the captain but the news, whether correct or erroneous, heightened the pitch of the argument at Morristown over the perennial question, where would the British strike? Washington’s opinion was that Howe’s army was about to move up the Hudson or to Philadelphia, with the probability in favor of the Quaker City. Congress was so nearly convinced the enemy was to descend on Philadelphia that it adopted measures to safeguard the approaches and remove the more valuable stores. Defence of the city had to be fitted into Washington’s broader strategical plan, which, as in the past, was to avoid a general engagement and, at the same time, prevent the severance of the New England States from those to the south. General Carleton was expected to make the utmost of controlling Lake Champlain. He or General Burgoyne would be able to invest, or at least approach, Ticonderoga without effective challenge. Washington considered it essential to hold Ticonderoga and the highland passes at any price short of removing his own Army from in front of Howe. All the while, too, he had to keep an eye on Rhode Island and on the British fleet.
“In short,” Washington wrote one of his Brigadiers April 3, “the campaign is opening, and we have no men for the field.” It was incredible, but substantially true: By the middle of April the weakness of the Army was more ominous than it had been in late winter. Even in that plight Washington refused to fall back on the policy of short-term enlistments. He had to fight; he confessed, to “keep the life and soul of this Army together,” but he retained the confidence of most of his men and he did not weaken in determination. Three times in March he had been compelled to give warning that the debacle might not be far distant unless the Army was recruited heavily and at once with dependable troops. April 12 he set down the statement, “I wish I could see any prospect of an Army, fit to make proper opposition, formed anywhere,” and nearly two weeks later he told Schuyler that the Army already had “a much longer indulgence” at the hands of the enemy than Americans “had any right to expect.”
Many men were disaffected and the incidence of desertion was alarming. Washington believed the cure for military disorder was prompt pay, good provisions and the general improvement of discipline. “. . . Nothing,” he said, “can be more hurtful to the service than the neglect of discipline, for . . . discipline, more than numbers, gives one army the superiority over another.” Sound discipline of this sort was not inculcated easily. The long tedium of the spring had inevitably its demoralizing effect on some of the officers. In spite of everything, Washington tried to hold each officer to the highest standard the individual could attain, but so long as men with commissions did not fall below the minimal requirements of their rank, he did not expect of the dullest and least lettered what he demanded of the ablest and best schooled. He counselled those he found within his reach and in need of admonition or assistance; but in this hard labor of training soldiers, he needed more help than he had.
Snow disappeared from the hills around Morristown; spring came to the fields of New Jersey; roads mysteriously seemed to find bottoms that had been lost in mud. Once only, in the whole of April, however, did the British attempt to do more than protect their foraging parties and then in only a small affair at an outpost at Bound Brook, seven miles upstream from New Brunswick on the Raritan. The Redcoats wasted little time after they found their quarry gone and Bound Brook almost without stores. As soon as the British satisfied themselves they could get no booty, they left the village and returned as they had come. The episode led Washington to reduce the number of posts, in order that the forces might be less exposed to surprise and more readily assembled in event the enemy made the expected major thrust.
The General had very soon to justify in the eyes of Connecticut the application of this policy of maintaining the minimum of posts. At 3 A.M. of April 28 Washington was awakened to receive a dispatch in which General McDougall forwarded reports that a British force had landed on the coast of Connecticut and started inland towards Danbury. That town had become an extensive base, because it was supposed to be safe from raiders and was convenient to Peekskill, where stores were exposed to attack from the Hudson. The morning of the thirtieth Washington received a further report from McDougall: the British had reached Danbury unopposed and burned the stores and some private buildings; on their withdrawal, April 28. they had been assailed by a small body whom General Wooster had scraped together. Another column was organized by Gen. Gold S. Silliman, who yielded command to Benedict Arnold when that officer arrived. Wooster assailed the British rear; Arnold threw his force across the road by which the King’s men were retiring, and, when pushed aside, continued to harass flank and rear. Wooster was mortally wounded, approximately twenty Americans were killed. British casualties were estimated at figures as high as “500 or 600” and in reality ran to the substantial total of about 154 killed and wounded.
Materially, one loss was more serious than all the others combined. Tents to the number of almost seventeen hundred had been sent to Danbury for safe-keeping and were destroyed there. These were irreplaceable otherwise than by importation. Another
result of the raid was increasing reluctance on the part of Connecticut authorities to send their militia to Peekskill, lest another raid be made on their state, though the raid had shown that Connecticut and the country immediately east of the Hudson were strategically one defensive area.
Washington somehow endured the confinement of his work. Thanks to his habit of early rising, he usually dispatched his routine business by dinner time, when, if conditions permitted, the senior officers and brigade majors of the day were his guests. As a hostess, Martha now presided. She had come to Morristown in mid-March and was to remain until nearly the end of May. It was a relief to him to ride with interesting women; and it was a physical stimulation, when the afternoon was free, to catch ball with some of his juniors. Riding and sports were part of the life for which he yearned.
After Washington had sent General Putnam to the vicinity of New York, in the command vacated by Heath, the Commander-in-Chief had to spend time on letters designed to coax Putnam into an attack on King’s Bridge or, at the least, into a demonstration against that post. Ticonderoga demanded attention. Washington did his utmost to get the New England States to complete the recruiting of the additional regiments and to hurry them to Ticonderoga, where Gates was given the service of the alert Arthur St. Clair. Schuyler had won vindication at the hands of Congress, had worked usefully for some weeks in Philadelphia, and soon was to have again the command of a redefined Northern Department, in which Gates was to serve under him or else resume duty as Adjutant General. In May, as in every month after Gates had left Headquarters, Washington could have used the experience and reasoning power of that officer, because perplexities continued to multiply. It was impossible for Washington to know all that was happening in his Army. He found it particularly difficult to get trustworthy estimates or prompt action from Commissary General Joseph Trumbull, who remained in New England, and from recruiting officers, scattered everywhere.
A case of large possibilities of injustice concerned Arnold and his dissatisfaction over the outcome of his political campaign to recover his “rights” to promotion. A resolve of Congress made him a Major General but it did not restore him to the seniority he had when he was among the Brigadiers. Arnold came to Headquarters on May 12 with the statement that he wished to go to Philadelphia for a settlement of his accounts and an examination of charges made against his integrity. In explaining this Arnold probably asked for a letter to the President of Congress in order to assure a hearing. Washington wrote such a paper, in which he concluded: “These considerations are not without their weight, though I pretend not to judge what motives may have influenced the conduct of Congress upon this occasion. It is needless to say anything of this gentleman’s military character. It is universally known that he has always distinguished himself as a judicious, brave officer of great activity, enterprise and perseverance.”
Through the early months of 1777 the policy of Congress had been to discourage foreign officers from coming to America, but not to discredit Silas Deane, agent in Paris, or to offend the Comte d’Argoud of Martinique, an enthusiastic supporter of the American cause and the sponsor of numerous applicants for commission. The feeling had been confirmed that most foreign officers arriving in 1775-76 were adventurers who had been given rank beyond their merit. There was agreement, also, that officers who did not understand English should not be commissioned; but exceptions were frequent. The broad exception in this policy concerned engineers and artillerists.
On May 8, a French officer of approximately Washington’s own age arrived at Headquarters and introduced himself in English as Col. Thomas Conway of the Army of His Most Christian Majesty. Conway explained his name and his knowledge of English by saying that he was Irish-born, though educated in France. He spoke of some of the French officers who had come with him to America aboard a ship that brought a much-desired cargo of cannon, but he may not have told of a controversy with an engineer who had tried to dismiss him before their ship left France. Washington formed a good first opinion of Conway and sent him to Philadelphia with a letter more commendatory than the General usually wrote of a stranger. Congress received the Frenchman enthusiastically, accepted at face value all that Deane wrote of him in a letter of introduction and elected him a Brigadier General. Hearing of this, American colonels of long service might have pondered alternatives: They themselves must be exceedingly poor officers or else Conway must be superlative.
Behind Conway came the man who had wished to get rid of him in advance, Philippe Charles Tronson du Coudray. This gentleman, the most extravagant acquisition of Deane, had no less than eighteen other officers and ten sergeants in attendance on him. He had stopped May 14 in Boston where he had expressed much contempt for the British who let themselves be driven from so strong a position. Du Coudray put the highest valuation on his professional standing, his connections and his writings on military subjects. He did not tell Washington precisely what he expected to do, but he dropped hints to other officers that led to the belief he had a contract with Deane under which he was to be vested with the chief command of the artillery.
Washington prepared a letter to the President of Congress in a determination to have the dangers of such an appointment plain. “General Knox,” wrote Washington, “. . . has deservedly acquired the character of one of the most valuable officers in the service, and . . . combatting the almost innumerable difficulties in the department he fills, has placed the. artillery upon a footing that does him the greatest honor.” Were he superseded, Knox “would not think himself at liberty to continue in the service.” In that event, Washington gave warning, the artillery would be convulsed and unhinged. Would it not be possible to satisfy du Coudray by appointing him to some other position? Du Coudray hurried to Philadelphia and presented to amazed members of Congress articles of agreement between him and Deane. These carried a variety of financial guarantees for du Coudray, prefaced by the statement that he was to have the title of General of Artillery and Ordnance with the rank of Major General. His was to be “the direction of whatever relates to the Artillery and Corps of Engineers, under the order and control only of the Congress of the United Colonies, their Committee of War, or the Commander-in-Chief for the time being.” The agent had no authority to make such a contract. Were it accepted, it would give du Coudray and his French artillerymen seniority over all American officers of like rank who had been recommissioned January 1, 1777.
These vexations were among the worst Washington had to endure in the endless task of finding intelligent officers, training those who gave promise and putting incompetents where they could do least harm if they could not be dismissed. Lesser troubles with American officers were presented, solved, compromised or deferred; the Frenchmen remained a continuing enigma when Washington should have been free to devote a mind otherwise untroubled to what might prove the decisive test of the year.
Howe manifestly was to move soon; but there was as much doubt as ever in Washington’s mind regarding the objective of the enemy, except that it probably was one that required the use of both the transports and the fleet. All the probabilities and the few known facts led Washington to decide that he should move closer to New Brunswick and into a strong position, whence he could follow quickly any British advance, whether towards the eastern States or toward Philadelphia. He selected as the most advantageous position a well-protected valley at Middle Brook, on the left bank of the Raritan, seven miles northwest of New Brunswick, and moved Headquarters to the new encampment on the evening of May 28. The greater part of the Army followed May 31.
Washington took advantage of warm weather and field encampment to discipline the men, drill the officers in military etiquette and watch the enemy. Prior to June 7 nothing of importance was reported concerning Howe’s plans. It was known that troops had left Rhode Island, but their destination had not been established. Troops from New York had joined Howe. On the seventh word was received that “many vessels” at New York were being fitted out for horses. Three uneventful days follo
wed. Then, on June 10, Col. David Forman reported he had seen much activity in shipping off Sandy Hook, Amboy and Prince’s Bay. In the belief the next express might bring news that would set every wheel turning, Washington ordered all baggage loaded, except the tents. June 12 brought intelligence of the arrival of additional regiments from Europe, the ferrying of British troops from Staten Island to Amboy and the gathering of British shipping in Prince’s Bay.
What, then, was afoot? Was Howe about to proceed by land, by sea, or by both a voyage and a march along the coastal plain? Washington, weighing reports and probabilities, believed that the British were reenforcing New Brunswick heavily and that they were aiming at the destruction of the American main Army or were preparing an expedition to capture Philadelphia. The Hudson seemed the less probable objective. The advice of the council was that all troops in excess of one thousand be called from Peek-skill. Morristown was to be held lightly; Sullivan should move from Princeton to Millstone River, where his flank could not be turned by the enemy though he would be free to maneuver.
Two days later American Headquarters learned that Howe had started his movement: the British advance was at Somerset Court House. As far as the Continentals could ascertain, the enemy was occupying New Brunswick still. Washington was ready. Mifflin had been directed to collect boats on the upper Delaware; Congress had ordered Arnold to proceed to Trenton and take command there; Washington dispatched a call for the New Jersey militia and expected news that the enemy was headed for the Delaware or for a general attack along the upper Raritan.
Howe did neither. He merely stayed where he was. The American General waited in vain with tents struck, wagons loaded and horses harnessed and hitched to the vehicles. So little happened that Washington found the hour in which to write a letter that restored full, friendly relations with Joseph Reed, to whom he vainly had offered command of the cavalry. With Charles Lee no longer talking freely and writing carelessly from American Headquarters, reconciliation was easy. It would have been gratifying if at that very hour, Reed had been present to add his suggestions for ascertaining what the British were to do next and how they could be checkmated. American outposts were commanded to keep on the alert; Sullivan was told to get beyond the right flank of the Redcoats by moving to Flemington. Were he to remain on the left of the British he might be separated from the main Army. To their surprise, both Washington and Sullivan received a steady flow of militia.
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